Suchergebnisse

Issue 45.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 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 ave located at Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. REvIEw FOR REIolGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1986 by REVIEW FOR REt,IGIOUS. 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 i~vlr~w FOR I~LtG~OUS: EO. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel E 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 Sept. / Oct., 1986 Volume 45 Number 5 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to I~v~Ew FOn REt,tG,OUS; 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 ~Oa REL~C~OUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell . Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, M! 48106. A major 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. Dominican Mission and Apostolic Common Life Mary A nn Fatula, O.P. Sister Mary Ann is the Chairperson of the Theology Department of Ohio Dominican College (1216 Sunbury Road; Columbus, OH 43219). Her last article, "Trusting in the Providence of God," appeared in the issue of January/February, 1986. In company with other religious orders, we Dominicans have placed a great amount of energy into reclaiming our mission of apostolic preaching in the Church. Yet even as we have become increasingly competent and profes-sional in our ministries, more than a few of us have sensed that something is radically missing from our reappropriation and that our mission requires far more of us than the total dedication of our energies to ministry. If we are honest, we must admit to a growing pain which we too easily push aside because we fear the cost of facing its implications. We find our ministries consuming us, sapping our energies and perhaps making very little real or lasting impact on others in spite of our hectic lives. At the same time, we see that the women and men drawn to Dominican life do not come to us for the sole sake of ministry. In many cases they already have been successful in a ministry and are looking for a committed community which will nourish their prayer and service in the Church. Yet we know in our hearts that precisely what these young people desire and have aright to expect from us we seem unable to offer them. In addition, our study of Dominic shows us that his vision entailed not simply a task to be accomplished but the far more comprehensive and demanding reality of a life to he lived. As we catch glimpses of these truths, we are beginning to suspect that our desire for "something more" in our life together expresses 641 642 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 the Spirit's own cry within us for the very life to which this same Spirit has called us: a life of preaching as the apostles did, out of a rich communion not only with the Lord but also with one another. The Relation Between Dominican Mission and Apostolic Common Life Many of us may not have reflected on the importance of community when we entered religious life, and yet we probably experienced its value, at some level at least, simply because we could not escape its structure. Today, however, we often have local settings in which hardly a semblance of com-munity life exists. On weekends no one is around; on weekdays it is difficult, if not impossible, to find one evening during a given month when even a small community is present in its totality at a supper meal. In many instances, not much binds us together except the TV set. We know by experience that simply promulgating laws does not make us choose something, no matter how valuable it is. We make free commit-ments because we have experienced the beauty of the reality held out to us, or because our hearts and minds reach out to claim a value when its beauty becomes apparent to us. Perhaps we do not experience the beauty of common life today--quite the opposite. But a deepened understanding of what common life can and must be for us could inspire us to consciously claim it anew. Far from providing "icing on the cake" to pep up our mission, so to speak, apostolic common life is literally a matter of life and death for us: if we do not reclaim it, we will perish. The interior communion and interdependence at the heart of Dominic's vision is something no structure or law can deliver to us; no outside force will hold us responsible for living it unless we ourselves do. Dominican apostolic common life, and thus the Dominican mission, will survive only if living men and women freely choose to devote their energy to living it. As M.H. Vicaire points out, Dominic renewed the apostolic life in its fullness precisely because he founded the outer element of missio upon the inne~ element of communio. The mission of itinerant preaching of God's word, the very ministry that founds the Church, was to flow from the rich interior life the Dominicans lived through prayer, the evangelical counsels, community and study. Far more than the task of merely verbal or written preaching, Dominic's mission entailed living the Word we preach with our mouths and pens, preaching in fact with our very lives. "I have come to cast fire on the earth" (Lk 12:49). We know the differ-ence between the preaching of mere words, and the kind which enlightens and sets fire to us: "Were not our hearts burning within us as he spoke to us on the way" (Lk 42:32). Dominican preaching is meant to be both light (or the mind and warmth for the heart because that preaching Dominican Mission / 643 comes from fire in the heart. This constitutes the Dominican mission in the Church, inseparably Word and Spirit, truth and love, light and fire--the fire of loving communion lived and put into words. The Spirit of communion anointed Jesus himself in the word he proclaimed (Lk 4:18); gathering a community around him, he preached not as an isolated individual but united to his Father and also to the twelve: "Let usgo to the next towns that we may preach there also, for this is why I came out" (Mk 1:39). When Jesus sends the apostles to preach, he sends them not one by one, but two by two (Mk 6:7). A witness at Dominic's canonization process in Bologna testified, "his words were so moving that most of the time he himself and his listeners were stirred to tears." We ourselves weep when something in a speaker's heart sets fire to our own hearts. Dominic wept when he preached because he spoke of what he loved and lived in his communion with the living God and with brothers and sisters. Jordan of Saxony writes of him that his "fre-quent and special prayer to God was for the gift of true charity." In a marve-lously creative synthesis Dominic combined the itinerant preaching of the apostles with the communio of the early Church. Preaching formed the purpose of the Dominicans' prayer, study, and community; but even more, the apostolic life they lived together, the reality of their love and communion with one another in the Lord, constituted the loudest and clearest word they preached. "Living Together," Community Life, and Common Life We have learned to distinguish between mission and ministry; our mission of preaching entails living the apostolic life in its fullness, preaching what we live, while our ministries express that mission in concrete and diverse ways. In a similar manner, we can distinguish between simply living together, community living and common life. Most of us perhaps know the first reality, "living under the same roof." Like ships in the night we greet each other but have no real connection to or interaction'with one another. Some of us may know, too, the deeper reality of community life, concrete sharing of goals, interests, work, prayer, responsibilities. But the words "common life" in fact translate the Latin word communio denoting an interior reality, a union of hearts and minds which only the Spirit can effect. Certainly this communion must be expressed in concrete forms, yet its reality is far more deep and inclusive than what "living together" or even "community life" denotes. We can share many things in community and still not share the deepest reality for which we are called together, the Lord whose love makes us one. The Hebrew and Christian Scriptures which, inspired Dominic's vision 644 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 portray preachers as people joined together to receive and to proclaim the Word expressing the very life they live in communion with others. Recalling how communities gathered around the Hebrew prophets, the author of John 17 places on the lips of Jesus the following prayer: May they "be one, as you, Father, in me, and I in you." May they all "be one in us, that the world may believe that you have sent me. I have made known to them your name and I will make it known, that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them." These words hint at the truth that no mere human effort can bring about communio. We have already tried human plans, projects, laws and programs, and we still find that we cannot achieve by our own efforts alone the kind of communion to which we are called as Dominicans. Only the Spirit gives life, and only the Spirit can offer us the power to live the kind of communion to which our vocation calls us, a human sacrament of the unspeakable com-munion at the heart of the triune God. When we ourselves love, we find that the closer we come to another, the more the union causes a bitter-sweet pain precisely because we cannot achieve the kind of oneness we desire. Because we cannot literally have one mind and heart with another; there remains always that final place in us which no one else can know or enter. But the Father, Son and Spirit live literally one life; in their communion no hint of division or separation exists. Our call to communio, to the common life, invites and urges us to be in some way a sacrament of this trinitarian communion. The Acts of the Apostles describes this reality among the early Christians: "The company of believers were of one heart and one soul in the Lord . . . they had all in common" (Ac 4:32). Here common life signifies not simply the sharing of material goods but ultimately the interior bond which makes them of one mind and heart in the Lord. Precisely because of this communion, the early disciples share everything in a "common life." This apostolic communio described in Acts 4:32 clearly inspired Dominic's own vision. The Rule of Augustine which he adopted for his Order opens with the proclamation that those gathered together have been called by the Lord precisely to live with one heart and mind in the Lord. And the primitive Constitution of his Order begins with this prologue: "Because a precept of our Rule commands us to have one heart and one mind in the Lord, it is fitting that., the uniformity maintained in our external conduct may foster and indicate the unity which should be present interiorly in our hearts. "" The earliest constitution of Dominic's Order thus identifies preaching not as a mere speaking of words, but as the expression of unity in the Lord which even in their diversity binds the members together in the apostolic common life. Dominican Mission / 645 The Basic Constitution adopted at River Forest in 1968 emphasizes this theme anew. The first three paragraphs speak of the mission of proclaiming God's Word, but the fourth paragraph makes clear the very heart of this mission: "Because we share the mission of the apostles, we follow their way of life as Dominic conceived it. With one soul we live in community." This distinction between the interior communion and the concrete expression of it in community life has important implications. Those who for serious reasons are unable to live in Dominican community may yet be truly living in the communion that binds us together with one heart and soul in God. Communio does have to be lived out in concrete ways, and community life is one of them, but Dominican communio is lived out also through study, prayer and ministry that flow from our interior union with our brothers and sisters in Dominic's family. We are called to foster one heart and soul in the Lord--a mystery far more deep and demanding than simply living under one roof. The Holy Spirit at the Heart of Dominican Apostolic Communion We address Dominic as "Preacher of grace" precisely because his procla- ¯ marion came not only from grace, from the Spirit's fire, but also spoke about grace, the supremacy of God's mercy and power in our lives. The Dominican mission calls us to preach from the fullness of our own experience of this mercy, our own realization that finally God's work and not our own will save us. In our attempts to renew and to live this communion among us, we are thus brought to our knees; the word of grace we are called to preach to others becomes only a "noisy gong and clanging cymbal" (1 Cot 13:1) unless it is also the word of grace we ourselves live together. In writing of love, Aquinas stresses how the activities of knowing and loving expand and enlarge us by uniting us to reality beyond ourselves. The process of becoming mature adults entails the ability to extend ourselves outside of our own limited being to others around us. Knowledge takes reality into us, so to speak, but in also lov!ng what we know we reach out in an "ecstatic" movement outward toward what we love (ST I, 16, 1). In love, we put others in place of ourselves and regard their good truly as if it were our own. The ecstatic nature of love's union in this way truly enlarges our being, increasingly actualizing us as human persons. Thomas distinguishes, however, between self-gratifying love and the love of friend-ship. In self-gratifying love, although we seem to be drawn out of ourselves to good outside us, the movement of love remains within us and focused on ourselves; we desire the good of others not for their sake but for our own (ST I, 28, 3). The love of friendship, in contrast, loves others as equals and directs 646 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 our affection outside of us to their reality precisely as other. True union thus happens only when we reach out of ourselves in an unselfish move-ment of love toward others' own uniqueness. Yet as experience itself teaches us, our own efforts alone cannot effect this kind of love. Precisely for this reason, "the love of God has been poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit who has been given to us" (Rm 5:5). Most of our communities have engaged in some program of helping us to appreciate and to tap our own resources, especially the gift of one another. But the gift we have left most untapped is the very person of the Spirit. Aquinas notes that the Spirit's name as Gift denotes gratuitous, unreturnable bestowal, with no expectation of return. And because a gift is presented to us only so that it may belong to us, the Spirit given to us is truly ours, our possession, our gift, our Spirit (ST I, 38, 1). Dominican women especially are called upon to renew this awareness of and reliance upon the Spirit's power in our life and ministry together. If we would claim our affinity for the Spirit's tender mercy and strength within and among us, we could become ourselves a new gift in and for the Dominican family, a living gift of women who live and speak the anointed word. For the word we have preached as Dominicans too often has not conveyed or come from the Spirit's anointing. This seems to me a special contribution which Dominican women can make to the Order today: to live and to proclaim the word of truth warmed with the fire. of life. Aquinas stresses that the Word cannot be divorced from the Holy Spirit: because the Son eternally breathes forth the very love between him and the Father, the living person of the Spirit, the Word is always Verbum spirans amorem-- the Word breathing forth love (ST I, 43, 5, ad 2). Only when we internalize this truth will we live out our call to be preachers not simply of the Word but of the anointed Word. Our mission to preach the Word by its very nature thus demands our increasing submission to the Spirit of God in whom we are to find the motiva-tion and power for our life together. "Ask, and it will be given you . . . if you who are evil know how.to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Fath.er give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him" (Lk 11:9, 13). We need to call down upon our life together the Spirit who alone can effect the interior communio at the heart of our preach-ing mission. As Aquinas stresses, the charity at the heart of our union is a created participation in the very person of the Spirit (ST II-II, 24, 2). This is a profound and radical insight, it seems to me: the bond of love we share is in some sense nothing less than the very reality of the Spirit, the divine person of love. As a participation in this Spirit, charity heals and enlivens our capacity to love one another truly as other. Again as Aquinas Dominican Mission / ~147 comments, charity of all the virtues has the strongest inclination to its act, for it reaches out to live in a spontaneous movement of pleasure and delight (ST II-II, 24, 5, ad 3; II-II, 23, 2). Since the Spirit's own person dwells in us by charity, making his power of love in some sense our very own, charity is specifically the same act whereby we love God and also one another. The movement of selfless love that binds us to each other thus of its very nature binds us also to God (ST II, 25, 1). The interior communion at the heart of our preaching mission calls us to reach out to one another's joys and sorrows, but we know how difficult it is to do this. We may be physically in the same room, apparently speaking and listening to one another, and yet we know in our hearts how often we are not present to one another's concerns. This kind of communion can happen only when the Spirit opens us to one another. As William Hill points out, the Spirit--and not just some effect of the Spirit's activity--is the very bond in some way uniting us in apostolic communion.' Perhaps we have had tastes of this communion at a time when we were bound together in a community sorrow or joy or at a time of deep prayer and celebration. We may have experienced this interior bond when the group was lost in silence and we had an intimation that our common life is not simply words we say or tasks we do for another. As Hill notes, when the Spirit "lays fast hold of us, we begin to live from a personal center that is our own self.''2 This last insight suggests that Dominican apostolic common life is possible only at the price of a profound continuing conversion on the part of each of us. W~ are called to live not from a center of narrow interest and self-concern, but from the abundant love of the Spirit who enlarges our hearts by making room in them for the truth of one another, In the depths of our being, the Spirit "lures us to the self-transcendence" of interdependence in the midst of our diversity: "The proper domain of the Spirit is not life in isolation, but in communion.''3 Neither Jesus nor Dominic sent our people one by one to convert the world, to be individual leavens in many places. This is a valid call, but it is not ours as Dominicans. If we are to live our charism in the Church, our preach-ing must express the fire of love that we live first of all in communion with one another. Individual men and women may have 1o minister alone in special cases, but their ministry also is called to give voice to the communion at the heart of the Dominican mission. If we are truly to live what we preach and preach what we live, the word we proclaim as Dominicans must express the apostolic communion we live with one another. The apostles' own preaching had such power because it overflowed with the Spirit's love lived in communion with one another, Because the Spirit inflames and anoints our preaching only to the extent that this same Spirit 648 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 binds us in love in one another, we will rediscover what it means to be fire in the Church, as Dominic was, only when we rediscover the absolute central-ity of apostolic communion. In many instances we still do not preach and minister out of the abundant communio we live with one another. And to the extent that we do not, we are insipid in the Church, a "noisy gong" and a "clanging cymbal" (1 Cor 13:1). Each of us is called to beg the Spirit's grace in our individual life and in our life together that our preaching would in fact give voice to the communioh we live with one another. Renewing Common Life Through Renewing the Four Elements of Dominican Life Because the Spirit's grace entails the mystery of both God's activity in us and also our free human cooperation, perhaps our most significant task in deepening our communion is to give renewed attention to each of the four elements which comprise Dominican apostolic life. And for both Dominican women and men, it may well be not simply a question of reclaim-ing but also of claiming these elements as our own in a way we have never done before. With regard to the first of the elements, prayer, we realize that our preach-ing is meant to flow from the abundance of our contemplation: "'contemplata aliis tradere. "" Yet too often we find ourselves saying, "My work is my prayer; the demands of my ministry prevent me from devoting explicit time to prayer." But as Vincent de Couesnongle, former master general of the Order, commented in an address at Providence in 1982, "People quickly distinguish the preachers who speak of the Friend with whom they constantly live, from the preachers who speak of him as of a stranger and try to pass him off as a companion with whom they are on familiar terms. The first know how to speak about God, because they are in the habit of speaking to God." People are thirsting to find in us women and men of God, and they recognize our pretense when we do not pray. And because this is so, what we most owe others in our ministry is precisely what we do with our time when we are not with them. Experience itself teaches us the paradox of grace: that God accomplishes wonderful things through us when we do not devote one hundred percent of our time to ministry, when we devote ourselves also to adoration before the living God in prayer. Many of us are perfectionists who think that our time must be consumed by projects to make our ministry more effective. Without belittling these efforts, more than a few of us are discovering that redirecting some of our " energy from compulsive busy-ness to time in prayer and fostering contempla-tive peace in our lives effect far more profound results than our efforts alone could have accomplished. What we do with our time when our people do Dominican Mission / 649 not see us often bears the deepest gifts for them when they do see us. We owe the people to and with whom we minister a consecration of our time to prayer so that they will find in us living evidence that God's presence and mercy fill the world. With regard to the second element of Dominican life, we are beginning to suspect the radical nature of our call to study. Dominic identifies as the crucial element at the heart of his Order the sacred study which opens us to contemplation and preaching. And is this not what we most lack in our lives today? Again, in his 1982 Providence address, de Couesnongle stresses, "It is a systematic, deepened and persevering study that we need to under-take . If this is not the case, then spiritual suffocation awaits us. The experience of each one of us shows this sufficiently." De Couesnongle com-ments that he stopped congratulating members of the Order for working so hard precisely because "people are overworked., they believe that one has to work like this. And thus, an unbalanced life results" whose equilibrium can be regained only by "stressing more a basic study that is at once serious and prayerful." Without prayer and study, we do no real preaching. We women especially must claim as never before our call to profound study; if we think we have no time for this because of our ministry's demands, we fool ourselves. No one will force us to study; this is a priority choice we ourselves must make. We come now to the third element that fosters communio, our com-munity life. In 1980, de Couesnongle noted in his report to the General Chapter meeting at Walberberg that he too easily believed the common life could be renewed simply by insisting on meetings and rules, as if these would automatically bring results. He came to see that true community life flourishes only to the extent that each person freely chooses to commit herself or himself to a real interest in the community members and to sharing what makes up his or her own life. "The newspaper and TV . . . will simply not suffice to excite and nourish an authentic community life. How many of us know how to share with outsiders what is best about ourselves, but become soeechless with our sisters and brothers?" We need to become, as never before, women~and men of the Word shared with one another, choosing to live what Dominic asked of us by speaking to and about God with one another. Is this not what we so little do? Because very few structures foster our communio, community life will cease to exist unless we freely choose it. We easily blame those in authority for the erosion of our life together when in fact we ourselves are responsible for its life or death. If our communities die, each one of us is responsible. We must begin to speak the Word to one another, to pray together, to speak to one another of deeper matters than simply the weather. 650 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 Because mission is our purpose, our community life and sharing of the Word with one another cannot be a matter of adding more time requirements to our already busy day; our commitment to one another must be in terms of quality rather than quantity time. Even if we are fortunate enough to experience a measure of community life, it is often not communio, our shared faith in the living God, that binds us together. But by taking advantage of the opportunities we already have for quality time together, we can take the risk of improving the level of conversation at table and of sharing the Word at our prayer and house meetings. And instead of harboring anger and resentment, we can begin to speak the truth in love to one another, for even honest fights do far more to foster communio than polite silence. Candidates to our communities who may have tremendous gifts for preaching and prayer and yet do not value the commitment to communio show by this very fact that whatever call they do have, it is not to Dominican life. And we who have already consecrated ourselves to this life must con-sciously choose today what perhaps we have never really chosen before, a true commitment to the community life that fosters the communio at the heart of our Dominican mission. De Couesnongle noted in his 1982 Provi-dence talk that as we have abandoned structures, individualism and non-par-ticipation have grown, and these are the "enemy number-one of community life." "Community life demands interpersonal relationships. Are we not too easily secretive. Do we not spontaneously hide what we are?. We bottle ourselves up and dodge compromising questions." He also notes the radical nature of our present call to community, precisely because so much today militates against a true union among us. We have become as secula-rized as the world, as filled, perhaps, with a selfish individualism that makes it increasingly difficult for us to reach out of ourselves to one another. Just as we ourselves must ratify our own baptismal vows, we Domini-cans are called to make a personal choice to live in fact what we say we are living. We can no longer escape facing ourselves with the question: "Why am I here? If I want to preach as a Dominican, my preaching must come from a true communio I myself concretely live." Unless each of us squarely faces this question and lives out its implications, we will surely die as com-munities, because we will fail to live our charism in the Church. Since the Dominican tradition has always treasured the richness of plural-ity, there are and will be diverse ways of living our call to communio. Our being bound together with one heart and mind in the Lord will express itself in different ways according to the character of each local community. And if for some serious reason a Dominican must live alone, he or she can still live out the Dominican call to communio-missio by fostering in whatever ways possible a true communion, a oneness of mind and heart with the Dominican Mission / 651 brothers and sisters. As our congregations decrease in numbers, we will be forced to cooperate with one another in the kind of collaboration that the Dominican family asks of us. Increasingly we are called to minister together, to provide options for living in communities of other Dominican congrega-tions in order to preach and minister from a communio concretely lived. And we need to actively work toward these new kinds of configurations. We consider finally the relation between communio and ministry. We Dominican women especially are growing to realize that our mission is not simply ed.ucation but Dominic's mission, the preaching of God's Word through our varied ministries. Each of us needs to take personal responsi-bility for the extent to which her ministry concretely expresses this mission and to ask ourselves how we can best focus our varied gifts in the service of proclaiming the Word. Perhaps more than a few of us are called to re-examine whether the ministry to which we are devoting our energies is the one to which God is calling us now, the ministry which best utilizes our gifts for the mission of proclaiming the Word. We need also to ask ourselves whether we have allowed our ministries to consume and master us, rather than to free us in joyful service. When we fail to live the Dominican call in all of its elements, when we cheat other dimensions of our life to devote all of our energy to ministry, we find our-selves in an inevitable burnout, ministering not out of the abundance of our communion with God and with one another, but out of our own emptiness. Not every possible ministry is meant for us as Dominicans. If we are not ministering from the fullness of a contemplative peace and in a way that fosters this peace in others, we need to face the hard question of why this is so. If all that we bring to the world as Dominicans is more busy-ness, more hectic activity, we have nothing to contribute. What others need from us is not more unpeacefulness but the witness of men and women who minister from the depths of contemplative peace. This is one of the chief ways we are called as Domincans to be counte~:-cultural. When our ministry no longer fosters this peace within and around us, when it drains us end-lessly and yields nothing but unpeace, we need to take a second look at whether God is not calling us to another ministry more at the heart of our mission to proclaim the Word. De Couesnongle points out in his 1982 Providence address: "Work is not prayer., in saying we lack time we find an easy excuse. Do we have the right to present ourselves as religious whose word proceeds from the abundance of contemplation? Time is needed, if we are to pray. Let us find this time and give it to God . . . This is my dream for the Order: contemplation and preaching., preaching ex abundantia contempla- 652 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 tionis. "' This is also Dominic's dream for us. But a dream becomes reality only when we ask it as a gift from God and then with all of our hearts make a conscious choice to commit ourselves to its realization., together. In his 1970 commentary on the Fundamental Constitution, Vicaire stresses that our one profession, our one vow, integrates us "'into the communion, and it is the communion which has the mission. "" Our vow consecrates us not only to God but also to one another, for it consecrates us to be a "reli-gious community of life vowed to preaching." Our Dominican life itself "is an apostolic mission in the Church" that springs from the communion we live with one another. Vicaire continues: we are not "just a team engaged in a common task." We are "a community of life, centered essentially in faith's response to the Gospel and in the seeking for God together." Our call to the common life is the heart of our specific mission in the Church, for our preaching as Dominicans is meant to flow from our communion with God and with one another, the communion that makes us in truth of one heart and mind in the Lord. "This requires that we be a true community. We are in it for better or for worse, as in the conjugal community, until death." We need to take seriously this "conjugal" relationship not only with the Lord but also with one another, for as married people can and do tell us, real communion happens only at the cost of personal time and energy and commitment. Our Dominican mission will again bring fire to the Church and world only to the extent that it springs from and expresses the communio we live with one another. As ! write these words, 1 am conscious of how little I live them. But I also know that to run from the truth is to sell our very soul. May the words de Couesnongle spoke in Providence in 1982 about the common life as the indispensable well-spring of our preaching mission in the Church continue to knock at the door of our minds and hearts: "Each of us must feel herself or himself responsible for this. We have to pay out of our own person . Alone and in community, let us have the courage to confront this problem and then, 'Do what he tells you.' " NOTES ~William J. Hill, O.P., The Three-Personed God (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 1982), p. 303. 21bid, p. 288. 3lbid, p. 307. Active and Monastic: Two Apostolic Lifestyles George A. Aschenbrenner, S.J. Father Aschenbrenner is well known to our readers especially for the series of yearly surveys in spirituality he authored from 1980 through 1985. For the past year he has been Director of the Spiritual Formation Program at the North American College in Rome, where he may be addressed (00120 Vatican City State). This article originally appeared in the USIG Bulletin (Rome: no. 70, 1986), and is reprinted with permission. The spirited beauty and gracefulness of Jesus Christ has inspired the minds and hearts of women and men for centuries. They have been stirred, at times, to feats of missionary heroism all over the world. At other times, they have found encouragement for quiet, hidden faithfulness to the daily duties of a very ordinary state in life. In all these different types of heroism the moti-vation is the same: an enthusiastic love of Jesus Christ. In some way, then, Christian spirituality is always one and the same. Its beginning and end, its motive and energy always focus on that one whose words still echo in hearts today: "I am the Way, the Truth and the Life" (Jn 14:6). But over the many years, this one, central essence of Christian spirituality has taken expression in many different forms, some of which, at times, have seemed almost irreconcilable. Whenever these different forms are misunderstood and their common rooting in one basic Christian spirituality is forgotten, then they can become competitive or even truly at loggerheads. The interrelationships of each form with the one fundamental Christian spirituality, and of the various forms among themselves, have not always been easy and clear. But as long as we are careful to maintain a lively familiar-ity with and a genuine belief in Jesus Christ as the root and foundation of 653 654 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 Christian spirituality, we can speak of numerous Christian spiritualities. The following quotations are good examples of two very different dynamics within the one basic Christian spirituality: The Carthusian life rests upon a deep foundation of silence which you know and love, and it is in that depth that the Eternal Word is born for each one of us. There lies our whole vocation: to listen to Him who generates the Word and to live thereby. The Word proceeds from Silence, and we strive to find Him in His Source. This is because the Silence here in question is not a void nor a negation but, on the contrary, Being at its fullest and most fruitful plenitude. That is why it generates; and that is why we keep silent.~ Take down your lantern from its niche and go out! You may not rest in firelight certainties, Secure from drifting fog of doubt and fear. You may not build yourself confining walls And say: 'thus far, and thus, and thus far shall I walk, And these things shall I do, and nothing more.' Go out! For need calls loudly in the winding lanes And you must seek Christ there. Your pilgrim heart Shall urge you still one pace beyond. And love shall be your lantern flame.2 Though the dynamic of expression is different in these two instances, the core of the matter is the same: a heart afire with God's love in Jesus. But there will often be a very significant difference in the details of the daily living out of these two dynamics. And though the difference is never so profound asto destroy a common essence and a genuine bond, yet it is significant enough to prevent an easy identification of these two forms. My concern in this article is to describe and distinguish further these two different charisms or spiritualities, without endangering their basic rootedness in the tradition of Christian spirituality. Often in the past the Christian tra-dition has distinguished between monastic and apostolic spiritualities. I would like to suggest a further refinement of that distinction--a nuance that seems to me to be important and clarifying in these present times of struggle to understand the essence and expression of apostolic spirituality in religious life and throughout the Church. After some comments on the essence of all Christian spirituality as being apostolic, I will describe at some length what I will call two different apostolic lifestyles, charisms or spiritualities: the monastic and the active. Among the ancient world religions Christianity is unique in its strong Two Apostolic Lifestyles / 655 incarnational quality. In the Christian religion, at its center, is the claim that the Son of God became a full human being. Neither a deceptive illusion, nor a passing hallucinatory appearance, Jesus of Nazareth intimately, pre-cisely, awesomely gives flesh in our midst to the God who lives, beyond beginning or end, in unapproachable light and holiness. In Jesus, there can be no doubt that God is turned toward us forever in loving forgiveness and is ineluctably involved with and committed to our world evolving in time. In fact God is the decisive source and gentle sustainer of all being and crea-tion. And so we find in Jesus someone who enters our world confidently and profoundly, someone who lives and loves tenderly, courageously, thoroughly, and yet whose center of identity is never fully of this world. His God, addressed so intimately as Abba, "my dear Father," focuses his heart far beyond all of this world. On Calvary an apparently absurd and horrendous death can be desired, even chosen, precisely because his identity, though fully lived within this world, is not finally rooted here. And this identity is then fully revealed by God in the blessing of resurrection. The God of Christian religion always far transcends in being, beauty and life anything of this world. And so the Christian God is never fully identified with or by anything of the here and now, but, in Jesus, stands forever committed in loving forgiveness to all of us and to our created uni-verse. Fired by the same Spirit of God, all disciples of Jesus must learn to find an identity resonating in God far beyond this world while they live and love with a profound joy and hope that implicates them seriously within this world--but never so as to confine their identity to what they can see, taste and know here and now. And this balanced integration of the seriously incar-national with the transcendently eschatological has never been easy for any disciple of Jesus. There must never be any doubt of Christianity's healthy, creative and serious concern for this world. In the sense of a serious commitment to and involvement with our world, every disciple of Jesus must be intensely apostolic. Not to be apostolic, in this sense, is simply to betray Christian discipleship. For this reason, any facile distinction between apostolic spiritu-alities and monastic spiritualities may confuse, and may even deny the healthy, creative and serious concern--the apostolic concern--with this world that must be part of monastic spirituality. Nevertheless, as the central point of this article will make clear, there are two different ways of living out Christianity's serious, loving concern for this beautiful, anguished world. A central assertion of this article is that the essential apostolic orientation of Christian spirituality can be expressed in either a monastic or an active lifestyle. And these two quite different apostolic lifestyles are the result of God's Spirit at work in the hearts of men and women. This distinction, then, 656 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 is not something simply of human invention. Over centuries, as believers have struggled to be faithful to the Spirit of God inspiring their hearts, apostolic concern for our world expressed itself in a variety of ways. The evidence for our distinction here has resulted from God's love stirring human hearts down the ages. This distinction between the two dynamics of a monastic and an active relationship with the world cuts across the whole Church. It can name the experience of lay men and women as much as it can describe different types of religious congregations. And the Church has not always found it easy to acknowledge and respect these different apostolic charisms among women and men. Today, however, as a result of Vatican II, we are in a better position to recognize and cooperate with the different ways that grace stirs human hearts to express themselves and to be present.to God. To confuse or blur these two distinctive apostolic dynamics runs the danger of not respecting God's call in human hearts and of not cooperating properly in the formation of an appropriate apostolic Christian presence. The monastic and the active styles of Christian apostolate are not meant as hard and fast divisions. Rather, they express tendencies, movements of grace in our hearts. For many people and for many religious congregations, the challenge is to achieve the proper blend of these tendencies. We are speak-ing here, then, of a whole spectrum of development, from the highly monastic with little mixture of the active, right through to the highly active with a similarly small mixture of the monastic. It is like a long clothesline, and every individual and every group in the Church may be imagined as a clothespin that God attaches to some part of the line. As we consider these two different apostolic dynamics and tendencies of grace in the human heart, the issue centers on nothing less than identity-- either the identity of an individual or the corporate identity of a religious congregation. To avoid spiritual schizophrenia and identity confusion, no pins ought to be on the clothesline in the exact center. People who try to focus identity on this central point of the spectrum attempt the impossible balance of a life in apostolic faith of exactly equal monastic and active proportions. Religious congregations that referred in the past to themselves as semi-cloistered have been invited after Vatican II more carefully and decisively to interpret their identity with clear priority for either the monastic or the active style. The semi-cloistered balancing of exactly equal monastic and active dimensions is not possible. And such identity confusion, besides the damage done an individual or a religious congregation, also wreaks havoc in the ministry which, as the product of such identity confusion, must also be con-fused and weakly focused. Before moving now to a description of each of these two apostolic dynamics and lifestyles, two further comments are in order. First, no priority Two Apostolic Lifestyles / 657 of one style over the other is intended. The claim is that the monastic and the active are different and distinctive. There is no claim that they are superior, one to the other, in any way. Second, in describing each dynamic I will center on groups or on individuals who legitimately embody each tendency in a fullness and a clarity--with little qualification and nuance. When seen in such simple clarity and fullness, the dynamic in question can be better appreciated. But it should be understood that for many individuals and reli-gious congregations, the precise challenge is for them to qualify and nuance both dynamics so as to achieve an appropriate and identifying blend of each one.3 The Monastic Apostolic Dynamic I will describe six aspects of the monastic charism. These aspects are not disparate realities that stand on their own; rather they coalesce into a whole sensibility and way of life. As integrated and unified, they make up the monastic experience of God and the monastic vision of reality. These aspects are rooted in a distinctive dynamic at work in human hearts and comprise what, in the Church's long history, is usually called monastic spirituality. 1. Formal prayer is the primary determining influence. In the monastic apostolic lifestyle, the formal prayer of the Liturgy of the Hours and the Eucharist, and any other private contemplation resulting from the liturgy, has a clear and decisive primacy in the development of the Whole way of life. These times of formal prayer are the first items placed in the daily schedule. They literally determine the schedule and the contour of the life. As regularly spread throughout the day, this experience of formal prayer clearly determines, not only the schedule, but the very structure of monastic spiritu-ality. The heart of the monastic person is primarily and thoroughly rapt in the contemplation of God. And simply everything reveals this primacy. 2. Order, routine, regularity and schedule are central. Because of the clear priority of the Liturgy of the Hours and the Eucharist, the monastic life reveals and requires a regularity of order and schedule. Often, only Sundays"and special feasts will vary the fundamental routine of monastic life. An active prejudicefor variety as the spice of life should not lure monastic people away from a profound regularity of life in which the monastic heart is purified and disciplined for docility to the spon-taneity of God's Spirit. The disorder of any inappropriate irregularity is serious enough to trivialize the monastic experience of God. 658 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 3. Being set apart from the world in order to be part of the world. The monastic dynamic always requires an appropriate withdrawal from the world. This being set apart from the world can never become an end in itself, nor an uncaring protection from the world. Should such a lack of concern develop, the monastic life would have lost that apostolic commitment to this world which is essential to all Christian discipleship. But for the monastic heart, it is precisely through being set apart from the world that a care and concern for the world grows and is appropriately expressed. This monastic withdrawal from the world can serve as a reminder for all disciples of Jesus. "If you belonged to the world, the world would love its own; but the reason that the world hates you is that you do not belong to the world for I chose you out of the world" (Jn 15:19). These words of Jesus profess a type of separation from the world without which serious Christian discipleship can never be possible. The monastic separation from the world-- never meant to be a frightened disinterest, but rather a sharing in God's passionate care for this world--serves as a reminder of Jesus' words for every Christian disciple. This monastic separation from the world is expressed in many different ways. Some monasteries are situated literally out in the middle of nowhere. Others are situated in the midst of an inner city, still crumbling or now being redeveloped. Sometimes the monastic person is set apart from the world in a small, simple apartment-hermitage. Especially in experimentation after Vatican II, monastic women and men have rediscovered that the cloister of the heart contemplatively fascinated in God is the central issue, much more than any grilles and cloistered spaces. And yet, unless there is an appropriate external separation from the world, the monastic heart will be distracted and become trivialized in its simple contemplative focus on God. 4. Stability, solitude and peace figure prominently in the monastic life. From the outset, in discussing the importance of each of these three qual-ities in the monastic life, key distinction must be made between the quality considered as a profound inner reality of heart and as an external expression of that same interior reality. When stability is viewed as a profound, inner quality of heart, it typifies and would be expected of any mature believer-- and not just of the monastic person. Interior stability, as dependability and responsibility before God, always entails the refined sensitivity which dis-tinguishes God's word of true love from the many other seductive words of apparent and fallacious love heard at times within the human heart. This inner stability and refined insight comprise the core of faith maturity and, therefore, would be at the very heart of both monastic and active apostolic lifestyles. Two Apostolic Lifestyles / 659 But there is an appropriate external expression of this inner stability of heart that typifies the monastic lifestyle and not the active. Vowed stability in a monastic congregation, though surely a profound reality of heart in all the members, also unites them in this specific place with a communal bond that facilitates their ongoing search together into God. This kind of external stability, while stimulating profound communal experience of God in the monastic life, obviously interferes with the mobility of the active life. To appreciate the necessary role of solitude in the monastic life, the same distinction must be applied. A regular experience of solitude alone with and in God is another sign of every mature believer, whether called to the monas-tic or the active life. Without such experience of God in solitude, we remain superficial and immature, in our experience of life, ourselves and God. One of the dangers that could weaken the Church's ministry today, especially in the active form, is the situation in which active apostles become too busy for regular prayer in solitude--with the result that their faith becomes immature, superficial and indecisive. But for the monastic heart there must be an appropriate external expression and atmosphere of quiet solitude if one is to maintain a live witness within the Church of an inner solitude with God, a nourishment for which all our hearts year9 and are made. In a similar fashion, peace, as a deep inner quality of heart, is Jesus' gift to every serious disciple. Beyond this mature, inner experience of Jesus' peace, the monastic apostolic lifestyle also provides an external expression and atmosphere of peace, without the disruption and distraction of the active lifestyle. This distinction between inner quaiity of heart and external expression is very helpful in describing both the overlapping and the distinctiveness of these two apostolic lifestyles. I will make use of it later in describing the active style of being apostolic. 5. The apostolate of formal prayer is most typical of monastic spirituafity. The formal prayer of the Liturgy of the Hours and the Eucharist and of individual contemplation is the chief and primary apostolate or ministry of the monastic heart. No other secondary ministry should be practiced except insofar as it relates to and does not interfere with the monastic life of con-templation alone with God. To blur or confuse this ministerial primacy of formal prayer could, once again, trivialize the monastic experience of God. The monastic heart always senses a salvific radiation emanating from its contemplative adventure alone in God. 6. Importance of physical presence in the formation of monastic community. Christian community is usually easier to define than to live. Wherever 660 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 it occurs, it is a union of minds and hearts primarily focused by a shared faith vision. Though many other elements, like similar age, training and interests, may facilitate union of minds and hearts, nothing is more important than a genuinely corporate faith vision regularly experienced and appropri-ately expressed. In the monastic style of Christian community, physical pres-ence, often in silence, plays a very important role in developing and maintaining the unity deriving from a corporate faith vision. A physical togetherness in prayer, reading, eating, sleeping and recreating are further aspects of the monastic dynamic at work in human hearts--and they are not unimportant ones in the living of monastic community. The Active Apostolic Dynamic Contrasted with the monastic, the active apostolic lifestyle is rooted in a different dynamic in the heart, and it also takes a different expression. This difference becomes obvious in the first of the six aspects that I will now describe. 1. Ministry is the primary determining influence. Vatican II, when describing this active dynamic in terms of religious life, speaks of communities in which "the very nature of the religious life requires apostolic action and services.''4 When this active charism is given either to a whole community or to an individual believer, it is ministerial involvement, rather than formal prayer, that determines the contours and the schedule of daily life. This is an important but very subtle point, which requires further eluci-dation, lest it be seriously misunderstood. To give primacy of influence to ministry is not meant to deny the absolute importance of quiet contemplation for the active apostle. Henri Nouwen states clearly the importance of formal prayer for ministry when he says: "If the minister wants to minister 'In the Name' he must live in the Name and speak and act from there.''5 Without mature prayer, mature ministry just is not possible. To deepen their regular contemplative experience is a great challenge today for active apostles, so busy and fatigued with responding to our modern world's needs. Let me be firm and clear in asserting this radical importance of formal prayer for the busy minister. The point to be stressed here, while not denying the importance of regular prayer, concerns the influence that ministry has on the whole makeup of the active life. The legitimate demands of ministry form the schedule of the day. When people enter a new ministry, with the intention of maintaining a past set time for private prayer which now will clearly interfere with availability for the new ministry, this violates the dynamic of the active apostolic charism. Two Apostolic Lifestyles / 661 To have a schedule of formal prayer already in place before entering into the new ministerial situation is backwards for active apostles. Rather, they must first insert themselves into the new ministry and get an honest sense of its reasonable demands. Only then can their conviction about regular contemplation determine the specifics of when, where and how long they should pray each day. That there be regular contemplation is beyond doubt, regardless of ministry. But the determination of the specifics of regular contemplation depends upon the demands of the new ministry. For the active apostle, ministry, then, while not a substitute for regular contemplation, is the primary determining influence in this whole way of life. 2. Flexibility for change is central. Because busy ministry and service of others is essential to active spiritu-ality, a regular routine scheduled around formal prayer is not possible. A flexibility of heart and spirit is called for, in order to respond to the challenges and needs of a world so often in great upheaval and unrest. The earlier distinction between a profound reality of the heart and its external expression is important here again. Flexibility of heart is not some-thing that only active apostles know. A profound inner flexibility of spirit makes possible genuine docility to the spontaneity of the Holy Spirit--and is always a sign of spiritual maturity, both for monastic and for active people. Responsible involvement in complicated and unsettled situations, something not usual in monastic life, calls forth in the active apostle a distinctive external expression and practice of this mature flexibility of heart. The struggle and anguish involved in much of our response to Vatican II reveals how hard it is to change a routine and how prone many of us are to find our security in a rather rigid routine rather than in a faithfully loving God. As indicated above I believe that a routine is not only healthy, but necessary for living out the monastic charism. But, while a certain routine is necessary for all human life, the active apostle must always resist the escape into an overly monastic routine and must learn to trust the gift of flexibility that is always part of the active apostolic dynamic in the Church. 3. Ability discerningly to find, be with and serve God in all activity. Someone in a busy, active life can become very scattered and distracted. One's attention almost constantly flits from one thing to another. One's energy and concern are poured out in one situation after another. Drained and running, one loses a sense of focus, of unity and maybe even of funda-mental meaning. As life gets more and more hectic and chaotic, burnout of body and spirit sets in. Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 Moments of special religious experience in formal prayer cannot, all by themselves, stem the tide of this heightening discouragement and tension. More than regular formal prayer is needed. Despite a great desire for unity and integration, human consciousness is capable, often without being aware of it, of various compartmentalizations. One of these is the split between formal prayer and the activity of life. In such a split, the surge of religious experience in private prayer ebbs in the face of all the busy activity of the rest of the day. The frantic, frenetic business of the day often calls forth and reveals in the apostle little sense of God. Private prayer is stubbornly main-tained in an attempt to keep religious experience alive. But such an ebb and flow of religious experience actually saps the apostle's energy and finally fails in accomplishing the desired integration in which all the activity of a day contributes to, rather than interferes with, a person's unifying religious experience. The proper balance of regular prayer and discerning involvement in the business of everyday can simplify and purify the focus and commitment of a heart so that the compartmentalized split of human experience into sacred and secular is gradually healed in a unity whereby all human experience bbc0mes religious--and finds God. In my own opinion, this is the greatest challenge still facing active apostolic spirituality. Often, past religious for-mation produced a compartmentalized relationship between prayer and activ-ity. Religious formation, in many ways, is still struggling to help active apostles find the proper interior integration that facilitates, and actually makes possible, the religious experience of finding, being with and serving God in all activity. Active apostles need a reflective sensitivity, in order to recognize the subtle but real difference between a selfish manipulation of others that finds self and a generously humble service of others that finds God. Only a genuine experience of the intimacy of God's love as beyond all other love and inviting a radical abandonment of self in love to God, together with a rigorously careful discernment of inner affective experiences, can make possible a human, loving presence that finds God in all activity and dealings with others. Vatican 11 makes a similar claim when it says that, for com-munities in religious life whose very nature requires apostolic action and services, "their entire apostolic activity should be animated by a religious spirit.''~ 4. Mobility and apostolic availability are key in active spirituality. Because mission and active ministry are so central to the active apostolic dynamic, mobility of body and spirit are important. Any rigidity in a person can interfere with the fruitfulness of this charism. In an active religious corn- Two Apostolic Lifestyles / 663 munity, the members come together precisely in order to be sent out on specific ministries, each of which shares in God's mission of salvation in Jesus. Any stubborn selfishness or immature insecurity will always corrode that mobility for mission which should characterize active spirituality. Apostolic availability is a readiness of spirit born of a freedom radically fascinated with a loving God's faithful commitment to us. Because of the inevitable limitation of human weakness and sinfulness, this freedom never perdures perfectly in a human heart. It must be won and received again and again. But the more this precious freedom grows in a human heart or in a whole congregation the more an availability of spirit allows the person or congregation to be thoroughly committed to a present ministry, but always with a readiness for wherever God's love may lead in the future. 5. The prayer of the apostolate is most typical of active spirituafity. The phrase that typifies monastic spirituality is reversed here. Granting, once again, the absolute value of regular contemplation in any serious spiritual life, the typical and more important prayer of the active apostle is a distinctively prayerful presence in and through all activity. This is related to. the third element above, i.e. the need to find, be with and serve God in all activity. The prayer of the apostolate should not be misunderstood as that claim and practice that many of us struggled with through the 1960s and 1970s: "my work is my prayer." Most of us now know the heresy.of such a claim, even though active apostles who would not want to profess an identification of work and prayer can still easily be pressured into living such a heresy. We have learned again over recent years that for no one does work become prayer, unless that person regularly stops working--and prays. So the prayer of the apostolate does not mean any simpliste identification of work and prayer. Rather the prayer of the apostolate involves two mutual and integral movements. The first is an appropriate, regular involvement in contempla-tion, which gradually spills over and renders pi'ayerful everything the person does, says and is. The second is an involvement in activity which stirs a desire for, and sometimes provides the subject matter of, formal contemplation in private. As one grows faithful and sensitive to these two movements, a pres-ence in all activity develops which is prayerful--a presence which is the Spirit of God praying and which reveals those clear signs of the Spirit mentioned in chapter five of Galatians. ¯ 6. A unity of mind and heart extending far beyond physical presence. Whereas the corporate faith vision of those sharing the monastic charism 664 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 requires much physical presence with one another, the active apostolic dynamic, because its very nature requires apostolic action and services, does not depend as much on the physical presence of the members to each other. It can foster a union of minds and hearts among members missioned all over the world in various ministries. Obviously, this corporate bond is not auto-matic. It is not the effect of any one person's fiat. It cannot be something superficially external. Rather, a unity rooted deeply in the hearts of all mem-bers will always require a profound attitude of heart on the part of each member, a distinctive type of missioning process and the careful practice of certain human, symbolic means. To say that the active charism depends less on the physical presence of the members than the monastic does certainly does not mean that physical presence can be simply disregarded in active communities. It is inhuman to imagine that members of a local live-in community, whatever the size, can develop a union of minds and hearts if they never gather together in quality physical presence. However, without disregarding the need for some such physical presence, we must not conceive the communitarian dimension Of the active charism according to monastic norms. Many active congregations today continue to struggle in local communities with how much physical presence of all members and what quality of presence of each is needed if there is to be a genuine, faith union of minds and hearts. If this struggle is not better resolved soon, increasing numbers of active religious, caught in the tension between involvement in an exciting ministry and the boring frustration of no shared vision in the local community, may well find celibacy too heavy a burden to bear alone. The De-monasticizing of Active Religious Life As religious have seriously responded to Vatican II's invitation to return to "the original inspiration" behind their own institute, a greater realization of the clear distinction between the differing and graced dynamics of the monastic and active has grown among us. In the wake of this growing clarity there also comes the realization that in the past we have not always respected this distinction with enough care. A major part of the renewal of religious life, therefore, has involved the de-monasticizing of institutes which were, in their founding, and which should, with greater fidelity over the years have continued to be, actively apostolic rather than monastic. This de-monasticizing process has not been easy. Mistakes have occurred. At times, inevitably, overreaction has set in. And many individuals have experienced great personal anguish in the midst of the confusion and turmoil of critiquing and of chang-ing, through experiment, revered and long-standing practices. But this process, although most painful, was unavoidable. To avoid it Two Apostolic Lifestyles / 665 would have been as serious a refusal as to violate the reverent d~cility due the Spirit of God who invites us to be faithful to the genuine, graced identity of our religious institute. In the past twenty years much headway has been made in realigning the fundamental conception, formation programs, ministerial practices and daily living of communities according to their rediscovered, original identity. Though the process is surely not finished, we are presently involved, appropriately enough, in a period of careful assessment of the fruits of this renewal process.7 A successful evaluation can help us to sift the precious wheat of fidelity to the essentials of religious life, as incarnated in appropriate contemporary expressions of the original founding charism, from the deceptive (though often attractive!) weeds of contemporary develop-ments that either destroy a necessary continuity of identity or shortsightedly try to defend older forms, which are now, and ought to be, simply dead. Vatican II reminds us of the importance of fidelity to the unique charism and identity of each religious community. "It serves the best interests of the Church for communities to have their own special character and purpose."s In line with this directive Thomas Merton cautions us against confusing the monastic and active dynamic: "The monastic life must not be evaluated in terms of active religious life, and the monastic orders should not be equated with other religious institutes, clerical or otherwise. The monastic community does not exist for the sake of any apostolic or educational work, even as a secondary end. The works of the monk are not justified by their external results but only by their relevance to his monastic life alone with God.''9 In conclusion, let me point to three results of respecting the clear dis-tinction between the active and monastic dynamic. First, we must be careful how we make use of the Liturgy of the Hours. In the monastic community the Liturgy of the Hours is a primary determinant and focus of the whole day, at which the physical presence of all is expected. In the active commu-nity, a regular communal prayer besides th.e Eucharist seems necessary. Some use of the Liturgy of the Hours may serve as an appropriate regular com-munity prayer. On the other hand, some other type of communal prayer may better serve a particular community. If something o.f the Liturgy of the Hours is used, it should not become a primary determinant and focus of schedule, to the detriment of the members' ministerial involvement. So, depending on the size and variety of the local community, the physical presence of all members is neither expected nor possible. However, the active community would be deficient in its unified faith vision if each member did not share the same desire to pray together regularly--which desire would always take expression in physical presence, except for ministerial reasons. But for an active community to use the Liturgy of the Hours in a monastic fashion would be to violate its God-given charism. 666 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 Second, members of active communities cannot avoid a natural monas-ticizing tendency as they get older. As the biological breakdown of old age sets in, religious become less and less active, they settle into a much more regularized pattern, and the apostolate of prayer becomes more predominant in their daily lives. If we are careful of certain presuppositions, this natural monasticizing tendency will not necessarily violate the active apostolic nature of a community. But the older members, whose lifestyle is now understand-ably more monastic, must not claim that this monastic lifestyle is the genuine identity of the whole congregation. Another subtle change of attitude could be entailed here. If a section of the motherhouse is located where many of the older, retired sisters are living, then naturally the style and schedule of life for that part of the house will be more monastic--as it should be. However, we must then be careful .that this more monastic schedule and style not be idolized as typical for all other houses of the congregation, an image that motherhouses often in the past have projected. Such a misunderstanding would be a serious interference with the unity and ministerial effectiveness of the whole congregation. In fact, it can be downright demoralizing and dis-torting for younger members. Furthermore, though these older members are much more inactive than earlier in their lives, they must be helped to keep the active zeal and concerns of their hearts alive and peacefully integrated with their bodily inactivity. These older members must also have a live sense of the ministry of old age and retirement. They must be helped to realize how valuable and necessary for the whole congregation's ministerial effectiveness is their own ministry of prayer and sacrifice. So often older religious think they have retired from ministry. I cannot stress enough the need for the elderly, and for everyone, to realize that while the aged and the sick must humbly retire from active involvement they never retire from ministry. The final and most important ministry is dying. If these concerns are not forgotten, then the natural monasticizing tendency of old age 'will not interfere with the active, apostolic nature of a religious community. Third, in the long history of women's religious congregations, for various historical reasons which are beyond my simple point here, the Church has had great difficulty in recognizing the active charism at work in the hearts of various foundresses. Angela Merici, Mary Ward, Marguerite Bourgeoys and Louise de Marillac and their followers are but a very few examples of the suffering this confusion has caused. In some ways the Church still continues to struggle today with this issue of more fully acknowledging and facilitating the active charism within communities of women religious. It is very clear that the Church's welcoming approval of valid contemporary forms of active spirituality among women religious--and without imposing any additional, Two Apostolic Lifestyles / 667 illegitimate, monastic expectations-- will enormously enrich God's mission of justice and love in our world. This article has described two different charisms, two different apostolic lifestyles, the active and the monastic. The Spirit of God has created and kept these two charisms alive in the Church. In a recent talk to the American bishops Michael Buckley, S.J., summarized the treatment of charism in the document "Directives for Mutual Relations Between Bishops and Religious in the Church": "Charism always involves three factors: It is an enabling gift of the Spirit which so conforms the recipients to Christ that they build the Church.''~° Three things, then: a gift of the Spirit, intimacy with Jesus, for the sake of the Church. As we come to appreciate further the active and monastic lifestyles in the Church, it is the hope of this writer that we will not confuse or corrupt these different charisms, but cooperate with what God intends, through them, for the unity of the Church, the holiness of its members and the service of a faith-filled justice in our world. Paul's words to the Corinthians both confirm and stimulate our hope: There is a variety of gifts but always the same Spirit; there are all sorts of service to be done, but always to the same Lord; working in all sorts of differ-ent ways in different people, it is the same God who is working in all of them. The particular way in which the Spirit is given to each person is for a good purpose (1 Co 12:4-7). NOTES ~They Speak By Silence, a Carthusian (Huntington, Indiana: Our Sunday Visitor Inc.), p.3. 2One Pace Beyond--The Life of Nano Nagle, M. Raphael Consedine, P.B.V.M., (Moorabbin, Victoria: L.R. McKinnon & Co., 1977), p. 7. 3As a result of their study of the document "Essential Elements in the Church's Teach-ing on Religious Life as Applied to Institutes Dedicated to Works of the Apostolate," Franciscans are investigating and proposing the evangelical life as the best description of their charism. It remains to be seen whether this evangelical life is a third type of spirituality different from what I am calling the monastic and the active, whether it is its own unique blend of the active and monastic, or whether it is a particular version of an active spirituality. 668 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 4Vatican 11, "Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life," #8. 5Soul Friend, Kenneth Leech, (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1977), p. viii. 6Vatican II, "Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of Religious Life," #8. 7See my two articles "Assessing and Choosing Even as the Journey Continues," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, March/April 1984, and "Come Let Us Talk This Over: Issues in Spirituality, 1985," Part 1, 'REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, July/August 1985, and Part II, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, September/October 1985. 8Vatican II, "Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life," #2. 9The Monastic Journey, T. Merton, (New York: Image, 1978), p. 213. ~°See "The Charism and Identity of Religious Life," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, September/ October 1985, p. 661. From Tablet to Heart: Internalizing New Constitutions I and II Address: by Patricia Spillane, M.S. C. Price: $1.25 per copy, plus postage. Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Canonical Considerations of Autonomy and Hierarchical Structure Elizabeth McDonough, O.P. Sister McDonough is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Canon Law at The Catholic University of America (Washington, DC 20064). This article is based on a presen-tation she made to the LCWR convention in New Orleans last September. In the Middle Ages--from the grips of which many people suspect canon law has never been freed--canonical discipline was known as "practical theo-logy." That is, it was not a separate science as it is today, with specialized formulators, practitioners, codifiers and interpreters. What people did on a regular basis became operative norms of action. By authoritative interven-tion or by custom these operative norms of action eventually became recog-nized as laws in the technical sense of the Aristotelian/Thomistic construct, that is: An ordinance of reason formulated and promulgated by one charged with care of the common good. At that point in time the reasonableness of the norm, the intelligence of the individual, and each person's freedom of choice were paramount. Also in the Middle Ages--from the grips of which many people like-wise suspect religious life has never been freed--the ancient monastic and recently discovered mendicant ideas of religious life held sway. By that time the former was already highly clericalized, feudally land-based, rather well-off, and subject to frequent reforms. The latter was a new notion capitalizing on mobility, the development of towns, the discovery of trade, the rise of universities, and renewed lay piety. It, too, soon became rather clericalized; comfortably land-based, economically well-off, and in need of frequent reforms. 669 670 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 Nearly three centuries later at the time of Trentmfrom the grips of which most people are quite certain canon law and religious life have not been freed--canonical science was heavily influenced by nominalism, voluntarism, legalism and emerging casuistry. At that point in time the reasonableness of the norm, the intelligence of the individual, and one's freedom of choice were no longer paramount. The then recognized forms of religious life were suffering badly from the mediocrity and compromise and half measures that commonly accompany the waning of initial fervor, the dissipation of energies, the loss of resources, the monotony of the ordinary, the discovery of personal interpretation, and the sometimes misplaced convenience of dis-pensation, exception and privilege. Similarly, all of society was in flux: notions of political power, emerging nations, methods of warfare, forms of communication, frontiers of exploration, monetary systems, philosophical reasoning, theological conclusions, and ecclesiastical structures all experienced incredible upheavals and alterations. And in the midst of this social and ecclesial melange, the desperately needed "new idea" of apostolic religious life was conceived by Angela Merici, Ignatius Loyola, Mary Ward, Louise de Marillac and Jane de Chantal. These charismatic individuals were fol-lowed in a few centuries by Catherine McAuley and many others. Perhaps it was a failure of imagination on the part of the ecclesiastical establishment that perpetuated the ancient, cloistered, monastic model in theological reasoning and canonical practice for women religious. But reli-gious life itself simply continued to develop. Eighty percent of the religious groups ever founded became established between Trent and the twentieth century, and non-cloistered, non-solemnly vowed, apostolic religious life for women was finally universally recognized, but not until 1900. Canon law-- retaining some remnant of its medieval ',practical theology" identity--could not ignore the reality of the "new idea" in religious life forever, although recognition came rather slowly by our standards. Relating to the Present But what precisely is the connection of all this with the topic at hand, namely "Canonical Considerations of Self-Determination, Just Autonomy and Hierarchical Structure"? The connection is this: At the moment recog-nized forms of religious life are suffering badly from the mediocrity and compromise and half measures that commonly accompany the waning of initial fervor, the dissipation of energies, the loss of resources, the monotony of the ordinary, the discovery of personal interpretation, and the sometimes misplaced convenience of dispensation, exception and privilege. Similarly, at the present time all of society is in flux: notions of political power, emerg-ing nations, methods of warfare, forms of communication, frontiers of explo- Canonical Considerations / (171 ration, monetary systems, philosophical reasoning, theological conclusions, and ecclesiastical structures are all experiencing incredible upheavals and alterations. We are clearly in a post-conciliar era incredibly comparable to the late Middle Ages and to post-Tridentine times. In the midst of this social and ecclesial melange, religious life is again in need--perhaps desperately in need--of yet another "new idea." But those of us who are currently members of established communities, more than likely, are not the bearers of this desperately "new idea." At best we are perhaps--or certainly have the opportunity to be--artisans of a transition. And with proper understand-ing and use, this writer contends that canon law can be a great aid in this transition. Fostering a Transition To illustrate the transitional role of contemporary religious institutes, let us for a moment take the medieval methodological approach of canon law as "practical theology" and look at what current "theology in practice" in the 1983 code suggests about this life we call "religious." To begin, the new law talks about life: an identifiable form of life, a substantive form of life, a stable form of life. It speaks of a life clearly understood and freely chosen: a life of following Christ, a life of total dedication to God. It con-siders this life a particular state in the Church undertaken by profession of the evangelical counsels and lived in accord with the supreme law of the Gospel as expressed in the proper law of one's institute. It is a life involving some fixed organizational structures, certain obligations and rights, various spiritual exercises, some restrictions on personal and apostolic activities, numerous clear procedures for admission and departure, and a public con-nection to the local and universal Church. From the point of view of "practical theology" the new code requires proper law specification in seventy-four out of the one hundred fifty-three canons that apply to religious institutes. In other words, in nearly half of the canons concerning religious, the institute itself must or may determine specific elements of the life of its members, both individually and collectively. Thus, widespread distinctions in practice are not excluded by the universal law requirements for common life, identifiable superiors, necessary forma-tion, apostolic limitations, departure procedures, and the like. The prin-ciple of subsidiarity is canonically incorporated in the new code, and opportunities for practical variations are amply provided. How well or to what extent these are utilized depends entirely on one's proper law. Proper-law revision, or the writing of constitutions, as experienced during the last two decades in the life of religious institutes has been no easy task, however. In some instances the process was carried out in an ambience of 672 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 internal polarization that fomented contentions among members as each retreated to his or her corner courageously defending the truth for the sake of God. In other instances the formulation of an institute's truly representa-tive legislation was complicated by a certain lack of contemporaneity in institutional and hierarchical Church structures themselves. Nevertheless, these difficulties do not negate the fact that it is precisely the revision of proper-law wherein lies the opportunity for institutes to incorporate new ideas and new experiences of religious life. Good proper-law revision allows them to accomplish this without having to shoulder the burden of being the initiators or receivers of the desperately needed "new idea" mentioned above. Moreover, incorporating new ideas and experiences in proper-law to the greatest extent possible now, can help pave the way for later canonical acceptance of other, newer ideas and experiences, however long that may take. Institutionalizing Charisms Backtracking momentarily before going on, let us note that the phrase "new idea" is entirely inadequate. Ideas have consequences, but they are not the only realities that have consequences. And religious life is never primarily or merely an idea, an intellectual endeavor. It is a gift of the Spirit to, in, and through the Church. Charisms are like seeds planted in particularly fertile soil in a specific historical context. They are shaped and reshaped by the exigencies of history, by the fortunes and misfortunes of the passage of time. They are nourished and grow and evolve in the context of everyday life with everyday people--interspersed here and there by those we happily refer to as "saints" (while being equally happy we never had to live with them). Charisms are never captured in constitutions or any collection of fundamental and secondary documents. Charisms live in people or they do not live at all. Legal norms, on the other hand, are externally formulated and externally measurable. They can never totally express internal motivation. Thus, the basic import of any constitutions and any collection of fundamental and secondary documents is not merely their juridical perspective and canoni-cal determination. The legal heritage of an institute, capturing as best it can the articulated charism, is always conditioned by the emerging values of real life as experienced by those inspired to embrace the charism. People are, you see, an undeniably important element of the canonical system. On another level, the institutional Church, which in some form or another has been with us for nearly two millennia, must itself occasionally reach out and embrace a genuinely new charism. In such instances the ecclesial structure must fracture its preset boundaries, redefine its established cate-gories, and reorient its institutional life in order to incorporate, that is, take Canonical Considerations / 673 into its structures, a new breath of the Spirit. This reaching out and embracing a charism has probably happened only three times in Church history: for Benedictine monasticism, medieval mendicancy, and post-reformation apostolic orders. In each instance, institutional embracing of the new charism occurred quite slowly, required numerous adjustments and experienced set-backs over the years. The time may very well be ripe for another institutional embracing of truly new charisms of consecrated life in the Church. If so, this too will occur slowly, require adjustments, and experience setbacks. And, if history can offer us any objective insights regarding the process and its effects, one might be cautioned to note that once the institutional Church reaches out and embraces a genuinely new charism, the rest of the story is that of the charism's institutionalization. It is simply a matter of time and human nature: initial ideals are eventually dimmed or forgotten; initial fervor is slowly chilled or lost; initial Gospel goals are gradually subordinated to preservation of the new institution. Suffice it to say that the readers of this article are, more likely than not, part of already established, already institutionalized charisms and, as such, are not the first wave of any new movement in religious life. Limiting Self-Determination and Autonomy The parameters of ecclesial embrace and the exigencies of historical evolu-tion are the primary limiting factors in the "self-determination"aspect of any religious founder or foundress, of any religious institute. Self-determina-tion is never absolute. It has always been far from so for religious life, and still is. But this is also the case, for example, regarding members of the Christian faithful in general. In the new code all Christians are entitled to form associations (c. 215). All Christians should lead holy lives and promote the building up of the Church (c. 210). All Christians have the right and duty to work towards announcing the Gospel of :salvation (c. 211) and to undertake apostolic activi-ties (c. 216). But no Christians are obliged in any way to seek official recog-nition for these :activities in 'any canonical form unless they choose to do them in the name of the Church '(c.301,). And no Christian is obliged in any way to choose any form of consecrated life (c. 573 §2). Yet the self-determination of any Christian (which is never absolute to begin with) is quite circumscribed and channeled--limited, if you will--by either of the above choices once made. As individuals we cannot be both teachers and nurses at the same time. As communities we cannot be both monastic and apostolic at the same time. As institutes we cannot be both Ursuline and Franciscan at the same time. Thus, in an era that prefers to deal with "both/and," we are sometimes faced with an inevitable "either/or" because 674 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 no self-determination is absolute. Similarly the "just autonomy" of any institute is always and only to be considered within the context of ecclesial embrace and historical evolu-tion. Philosophically speaking, autonomy refers to freedom from external control and censure. It guarantees room for action and reflection without disruption, but it includes necessary coordination in reference to the whole. Nevertheless, any auto nomos, from the Greek to be self-normed, is funda-mentally limited by creation and redemption: by our realistic situation of being creatures in an ambience of and affected by evil. As individuals we have from the start only limited independence that remains always relative: so, too, with religious institutes in the Church. Appreciating the Role of Obligation Here it may be important to digress somewhat to consider the bias that supports the current canonical system. It is a philosophical/theological con-struct characterized by valuing status, common good and obligation. This is so in contrast to more recent philosophical/theological constructs character-ized by valuing human dignity, individual advantage and personal rights. Neither need be mutually exclusive of, or in direct contradiction to, the other. But both have often appeared so. Even with the advances of the last few centuries and the affirmations of recent popes and the articulations of Vatican Council II, the former con-struct is the one that clearly underlies the new law. In the new code, the communal context of "status" constantly qualifies any affirmations of equality in dignity. In it, the common good--perceived as a set of conditions enabling the attainment of reasonable objectives for the sake of which individuals have decided to collaborate--is clearly prior to independent, indi-vidual advantage. In it, rights are subordinate to and conditioned upon duties intrinsic to the Gospel and to our social nature. In it, the protection of rights is for the sake of fuller participation in one's evangelical and social obliga-tions. And in it, patriarchal paradigms and male-dominated linear images still predominate. But what of the alternative constructs? What of, for example, the philosophical and theological mind-set that emerges from the social contract and human rights theories of Hobbes, Locke and Rousseau? These are to a great extent the basis of our constitutional republic and the foundation of American civil law and jurisprudence. Prescinding from their equally patriarchal paradigms and male-dominated linear images, note that social-contract and human-rights theories appear to posit the pristine existence of free, independent but highly vulnerable individuals willing to ransom a portion of personal autonomy for collective security. Rights are the "playing Canonical Considerations / 675 cards" or the "poker chips" of the barter: some cannot be relinquished (these are termed "inalienable"); others can be relinquished but can also be recalled (in breach of contract). It may appear, at times, that the institu-tional Church would be much better off with a healthy dose of American civil liberties incorporated into its legal system: with a civil rights basis; with non-hierarchical checks and balances; with protection by administrative pro-cedures; with guarantees of prior notification, due process, provision for counsel, and the like. And, for the most part, this is probably not only an accurate observation but also a viable possibility and partial reality. Witness, for instance, the numerous appeals boards and administrative tribunals that already exist in many religious institutes and dioceses to complement the heavily hierarchical Church system. Indeed, it is clear that these two systems are not, and need not be considered, contradictory or mutually exclusive. Nevertheless, there is a significant difference between the Medieval and Enlightenment mind-sets, and the difference is crucial for ecclesiastical law and especially for religious institutes. Social-contract and human-rights con-structs, while very affirming of life and dignity in theory, are singularly inept at guaranteeing life and dignity to the individual from the community in practice. This is because one finds in them no legal locus of obligation. They are based, if you will, on the implicit myth that somewhere there exists a Utopian world of perfectly free humans who have no alienated or usurped rights and who experience no unresolved conflicts, individually or collectively. Reality is not quite so Utopian. So, for example, in the American social-contract/ human-rights systems, suppose you are .walking over a bridge beneath which there is someone in the water drowning. Note that, even though the drowning person has affirmed rights to life, education, suitable housing, equal-opportunity employment, a just wage, and more, there is absolutely no civil-law focus of obligation for anyone to come to his or her aid. This is not to say there is no moral obligati?n to come tothe person's aid, but there is no legal one. In fact, the legal system--because of numerous possibilities for litigation--at times seems even to militate against fulfillment of one's moral obligations in such situations. And note that we are not discussing here the medical/moral/legal subtleties of prenatal life or of the terminally ill. We simply have a recognizably fully alive human being with numerous affirmed rights who ends up quite dead because of lack of legal obligation in the system itself. In sharp contrast, the Aristotelian/Thomistic system of law, and even further back the Judaic/Talmudic system of law, are based primarily on obligations: common, mutual, reciprocal obligations that arise from a cor-porate experience. The Hebrew, the Christian, the religious is chosen-- passive voice--be it at Sinai, through the Last Supper, or by a call to conse- 676 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 crated life. We are chosen. This is not to suggest that we, therefore, have no responsibilities; but rather, to highlight the fact that the initiative is God's. Only the response is ours. Thus it is the beginning of our system's notion of legal obligation that becomes the crucial difference in the end.~ We do not begin by bartering away any pristine "rights." We receive a gift, with consequences. The legal constructs of our lives relate to divine events in and through which everything necessary for the eternal salvation of everyone for all ages has somehow already been given, in some sense even commanded. They are the same divine events in and through which we have freely assumed personal perpetual obligations. And they provide for an amazing absence of Utopian myths. For there is in salvation history ample evidence of human failure, outright betrayal, personal and collective infidelity, repeated digressions, and an uncanny unwillingness to live up to our part of the bargain. In contrast, on the part of God, there is ample evidence of long-suffering patience, relentless forgiveness and unswerving fidelity to the promise of mercy. Moreover, if we do not read the Gospel too selectively, even after having done everything expected, you and I have no basic right or even a distant claim to any reward whatsoever, although we are assured in the end of attaining the greatest possible goal. Situating Obligation in Hierarchical Structures The importance of proper law--the law that obtains for one's own insti-tute- has already been mentioned in regard to fostering the current transition in the paradigms of religious life. Proper law is also crucial to any element of self-determination and just autonomy within the Church's hierarchical structure. And the central element of ecclesiastical proper law, as well as ecclesiastical universal law, is the locus of incumbent obligation. This is what gives our laws content and objectivity for assuring the protection of values and the exercise of rights, even if these values and rights are not directly named as such. In fact, whether or not the values and rights are actually named in the law is of minimal importance. Perhaps at this point an example is in order. There is an ancient principle of Roman Law which states: Where there is a right, there is a remedy (Ubi ius, ibi remedium). It is in the logical contrapositive that we more readily recognize the truth of the principle, namely: If there is no remedy to be found for violation of an affirmed right, there is really no right at all. With this in mind, let us proceed to the example. It is an example not taken from ttie~ law for religious so that the content will not distract from the point intend~dl. Chnon 22'1! §'2',of~ the 1983 code states: If the Christian faithful are sum- Canonical Considerations / 677 moned to judgment by c6mpetent authority, they have the right to be judged in accord with the prescriptions of law applied with equity. It sounds wonder-ful. But what is there to guarantee that this will, indeed, be the case? The answer: incumbent obligations and opportunities to insist on their fulfill-ment as provided in the canons on judicial procedures. °The affirmed right of c. 221 §2 can be vindicated because all tribunal personnel must take an oath that they will fulfill their functions properly and faithfully (c. 1454). All tribunal personnel must disqualify themselves from involvement in cases concerning: (1) persons with whom they have a first-cousin or closer relationship, (2) persons for whom they are guardians or trustees~ (3) persons with whom they have a close friendship or for whom they feel a great animosity, as well as (4) those instances in which they desire to make a profit or avoid some loss (c. 1448). And if the tribunal personnel do not disqualify themselves, the parties in the case can lodge an objection (c. 1229) to which the court must attend before the trial can continue (c. 1451). All tribunal personnel are forbidden to accept any gifts whatsoever for the performance of their duties (c. 1456). And any tribunal personnel are subject to penalties, including loss of office, if they refuse to deal with a case for which they are competent, or attempt to deal with a case for which they are not competent, or violate the law of secrecy, or inflict damage on the parties out of malice or serious negligence (c. 1457). In other words, these procedural canons--specifying as they do the legal locus of obligations and providing the opportunity to insist that the obliga-tions be fulfilled--are really what give canonical force to c. 221 §2. But the point is this: These canons, albeit with different numbers, were also in the former code. The affirmation of current c. 221 §2 was not. How much this newly affirmed "right" would mean without these related obligations is questionable, for indeed: If there is no remedy, there is really no right. And how much this newly incorporated right actually adds to the related, already long-standing procedures still remains to be seen. All the foregoing in norway intends to ignore the fact that. even in the best of legal systems incumbent obligations can upon occasion be observed primarily in the breach. The intention is, rather, to provide a clear under-standing of the importance of obligations in the Church's legal system in order to investigate more meaningfully the numerous obligations contained in the canons concerning religious institutes. Religious Institutes and Obligations To begin our discussion, as well as to illustrate the complexity of the: interrelationships among canons, let us consider thosecanons contaii~ed under the title "Obligations and Rights of Institutes and of their Members,." cc. 678 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 662-672. As often as one might comb the (official Latin) text of the canons, there is not one strict right (ius) to be found. But at this point in the presenta-tion, such a discovery should be no great surprise: It is the locus of incumbent obligation, not the affirmation of rights, that is the substantive base for our legal system. Moreover, listed in these canons there are numerous obliga-tions from which it is clear that what other legal systems call "rights" will be respected even though not mentioned by name. To pursue the practical content of obligations/rights in the code as related to self-determination, just autonomy and hierarchical structure, we will isolate one of the canons in this section and investigate its canonical consequences. Perhaps the most important obligation listed in this set of canons is that of c~ 670: Each institute must (debet) supply for its members all those things necessary for attaining the end of their vocation. The debet is canonically preceptive language. The subject, object, and matter of the obligation are, respectively, the institute, its members, and necessities. Proper law should certainly address itself to the objective meaning of "necessities," and the meaning should have some reference to what is justly judged so in an equit-able manner by competent authority within the norms, structures, and resources of a particular institute. There is some problem, to be sure, with relating mandated necessities to the end of one's vocation when that end ultimately transcends temporal realities and, thus, is effectively precluded from the possibility of practical evaluation. But consequences of the mandate in c. 670 are extensive and have already been addressed by canonists.2 At the very least, this obligation on the part of institutes is interpreted as requiring those in positions, of government to provide for, and as giving members a corresponding right to: (1) sound, complete, approved proper law, (2) structural provision for general chapters, superiors and councils, (3) systematic formation, (4) stable community life, (5) suitable options for apostolic action or internal work in accord with the institute's mission, and (6) appropriate material goods and .opportunities for ongoing health care, formation, work and renewal. Note that none of the mutual obligations/rights in this list are meaningful except as connected to a coherent legal system that can guarantee their fulfill-ment. And recall that in Church law the locus of incumbent obligation is what provides objective content and procedural safeguards for affirmed or unaffirmed rights. It is the locus of incumbent obligation that is the basis for whatever down-ward or lateral accountability might exist in our hierarchical system, which Canonical Considerations / 679 operates primarily on the intrinsic principle of upward accountability. That is, in fulfilling well the obligations it has towards its members (i.e., its down-ward accountability), any institute is also more than likely fulfilling its obliga-tions towards the other elements of the hierarchical structure (i.e., its lateral and upward accountability). Simply put, an institute cares for downward accountability by attending to the legal obligations it has towards its members. It does this by providing for at least the six categories mentioned as flowing from the requirement of c. 670. But in so doing the institute is not only protecting the rights of individual members. It is also establishing itself on a sound operational basis for relating to equivalent juridic persons, such as other religious institutes, in lateral accountability. And it is likewise con-tributing to its own just autonomy in the upward accountability of the insti-tute to higher authorities in the hierarchical structure. Thus, all of the mutual obligations/rights that derive from c. 670 are directly or indirectly related to the question of an institute's existence and just autonomy. But the motive for action and the locus of accountability in c. 670-- fulfilling obligations toward members--shift the focus for the institute from that of accepting the collective imposition of alien restrictions to that of guaranteeing the possible pursuance of someone's response to having been chosen. It is possible to approach this accountability from an entirely different perspective, namely: from the recog-nition of just autonomy for religious institutes in c. 586. Indeed, the result of beginning with c. 586 might even be somewhat similar, as will be seen in the next section. Yet the basis for action in the former approach is probably more canonically sound. Religious Institutes and Just Autonomy Canon 586 states that it belongs to local ordinaries to preserve and protect (servare ac tueri) the autonomy of each institute. In the same canon "just autonomy of life, especially of government" is recognized by universal law. The canon goes on to describe this "just autonomy" as that by which insti-tutes enjoy (gaudeant) their own discipline and have the power to pre~serve (servare valeant) their patrimony3 intact. The patrimony of an institute of consecrated life is described in c. 578 as the intention and purpose of the founders/foundresses, sanctioned by competent ecclesiastical authority, con-cerning the nature, end, spirit and character of the institute as well as its sound traditions. The canon adds that this patrimony is to be faithfully preserved (servanda est) by all. Elsewhere, in c. 631 § 1, the general chapter is given special responsibility both to protect (tueri) the institute's patrimony as described in c. 587 and to promote its appropriate renewal (accommodatam renovationem). Still elsewhere in c. 587 §1, institutes must (debent) incor-porate into their constitutions .whatever is established regarding their 680 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 patrimony in order to faithfully protect (ad. fide#us tuendam) the voca-tion and identity of their instutute. Another set of canons is also pertinent to the investigation at hand: cc. 675 §1, 611 #2, 677 §1, and 671. The first states that in apostolic institutes apostolic action is part of their very nature (ipsam eorundem naturam). The second states that a bishop's consent for canonical erection of a religious house includes the right (ius) to exercise the works proper to the institute according to the norm of law and within any restrictions contained in the consent. The third states that superiors and members of institutes should faithfully retain (fide#ter retineanO and prudently accommodate (prudenter accommodenO the mission and works of their institute. And the fourth states that members may not undertake pgsitions outside of those proper to the institute,without the permission of legitimate superiors. Both the language and the interplay of all these canons are significant. The patrimony of any institute, or, if you will, the meaningful heritage or expres-sion of its charism, is somehow to be contained in its proper law. Note that this is the same sound, complete, approved proper law to which membe~-s have a right by reason of the obligation in c. 670. And this patrimony is to be preserved by all--an unqualified and inclusive all--according to c. 578. Con-stitutions (c. 587), general chapters (c. 631), and local ordinaries (c. 586) are each required (using some form of the same Latin verb, tueor) to protect the institute's patrimony. Chapters have the responsibility to renew it (c. 631), while superiors and members have the ability to retain and accommodate certain aspects of it (c. 677). Now for the sake of example, let us suppose that an institute has been founded whose nature is apostolic, whose purpose is to practice the corporal works of mercy, whose spirit is non-monastic, and whose character, because of its purpose, is for the most part one of commitment to individual rather than to collective apostolates. Let us also suppose that the instutute is of pontifical right, that it has three canonically erected houses in three dioceses, and that its members are present in seven other dioceses in which the institute has n6 canonically erected houses. Finally, let us suppose that a member of this institute, with appropriate permission from internal authorities and fulfilling the norms of universal and proper law, is exercising an apostolate which the diocesan bishop does not wish this person to exercise in the diocese entrusted to his care. The stage is set, is it not, for the play of tensions commonly experienced between just autonomy and hierarchical structure? Without being facetious, let me suggest further that the script for this act of the play commonly has the religious entering stage left, the bishop entering stage right, and all defini-tive action coming Deus ex machina from above. The entire performance Canonical Considerations / 681 is usually viewed only through the opera glasses of a communications media well known for its ability to distort the factual while filling lacunae with unfounded conjecture. When the curtain falls, there are inevitable winners and losers, but who belongs to which category most often depends on where you were seated--center orchestra, third balcony, backstage, or in the wings. And usually the real issues have neither been well addressed nor even partially solved, while genuine Christian values, not to mention Christian people, have more than likely been forgotten or neglected or badly battered during the performance. As a canonist, this writer holds there are viable alternatives to the above scenario. For, if law does nothing else for us in the Church, it ought to at least be able to function as the impartial arbiter in cases of conflict. How well it can do this for cases such as the above, however, depends on how clearly and thoroughly obligations are both delineated in proper law and fulfilled by those responsible for them. But, to return to the case and the question at hand: Can the bishop prohibit the religious from exercising the apostolate in the diocese entrusted to his care? If you view it from the per-spective of the religious--to use familiar phraseologywthe "bad news" is that he probably can, because ultimately all religious are subject to the power of the bishop in apostolic works (c. 678 §1). The "good news" is that such a prohibition would be very difficult in some circumstances. Needless to say, if you are looking at this case from the vantage point of the bishop, the content of the answer is exactly the same: The prohibition is probably possible but possibly very difficult. The law, you see, is rather objective and can be an impartial arbiter in such matters, even though the "goodness" or "badness", attributed to the content would probably be reversed (and logically so) in the judgment of the bishop. Why is it probably possible but possibly very difficult for the bishop to forbid the religious from exercising an apostolate in the diocese entrusted to his care? The answer, to be canonically sound, requires a careful investi-gation of the canons previously mentioned. If the institute is an apostolic one, then apostolic works are part of its nature by law (c. 675). The nature of an institute as sanctioned by ecclesiastical authority is part of its patri-mony to be preserved°by all (c. 578) and contained in its constitutions (c. 587). The power to preserve this patrimony is part of an institute's legally recognized just autonomy of life, and local ordinaries are to preserve and protect this autonomy (c. 586). Regarding just autonomy of life, on the one hand, it cannot be restricted merely to internal matters or only to government. If autonomy is restricted to internal matters, then the understanding of religious life under universal law would be a dichotomized, compartmentalized one. The code takes great 682 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 pains to indicate that this is clearly not the case, and especially for the apostolic activity of apostolic institutes (cc. 662, 673, 675). Furthermore, if autonomy is restricted to the institute's internal government, then the just autonomy "especially of government" recognized in c. 586 is a meaningless phrase even canonically. On the other hand, if any apostolate is fundamental to an institute and if any autonomy in regard to this apostolate is to be recognized, then the apostolate must be clearly articulated in the institute's constitutions. If it is clearly articulated in the constitutions, and if the institute has a canon-cially erected house in the diocese, then this includes a strict right (ius) to exercise proper-law apostolate(s) of the institute from this house (c. 611 #2). Note, however, that while the institute has this right, each and every member of the institute is not necessarily free to exercise the right. Canonists do agree that, in granting consent for a religious house, a diocesan bishop can restrict some of the institute's activities for all of the members or all of the institute's activities for some of the members. But they also agree that he cannot restrict all of the institute's activities for all of the members. If he judges this extreme restriction necessary, he simply ought not to grant consent for establishing the house. Thus, in response to the case, if: - there is a constitutionally established apostolate - exercised by a member of the institute -~with proper internal permissions ~ according to universal law (i.e., legally) -. from a canonically established house -to which no general or specific apostolic restrictions have been attached, it would be very difficult for the bishop to prevent the religious from continuing the apostolic activity. The prohibition would not be impossible, however, because it is provided by c. 679, that if: - the bishop judges there is a most grave cause - after having referred the matter to the major superior - and if the major superior does not take appropriate action - the bishop can prohibit the religious from remaining in the diocese. But this action constitutes a penalty (c. 1327 §1) which means that -the procedure for application of penalties is to be followed (cc. 1341-1353) - no steps may be dispensed with (c. 87) 7 all wording must be interpreted strictly (c. 18) - the constitutions of the institute may not be violated (c. 1327 §1) and - the bishop must immediately inform the Holy See of his action (c. 679). Canonical Considerations / 683 Whence, the answer given above must contain an important qualification: The prohibition is probably possible but possibly very difficult only if the initial legal obligations regarding apostolate, houses and constitutions have been fulfilled by the institute to which the member belongs. But such is not usually the case, is it? For the most part situations arise in which it is clear that one or many of the above legal obligations have not been fulfilled and, consequently, the rights involved are not well protected. It often happens that the institute has no canonically erected house in the diocese. Then there is simply no right for the institute or any of its member to exercise any apostolate there. If they do so, they do so at the good will of the bishop who can subsequently forbid what he has previously permitted. The written agreements between diocesan bishops and competent superiors, which are now required by c. 681 when entrusting works to religious, might possibly give the religious a cause for civil-law action in the case of a breach of contract, but this could only occur if the agreements were poorly composed canonically in the first place. One might add that adhering to the require-ment for these written agreements, which are supposed to include the type of work involved, could possibly identify potential conflicts such as the above case in their incipient stages. It also often happens that a particular activity exercised by a religious is not mentioned--or at least not referred to in a specific enough manner--to definitively include it in the constitutionally approved elements of the insi-tute's apostolate. The competent internal authority by making a practical interpretation in the course of good government may judge that this specific activity is included within the constitutionally approved elements of its aposto-late. But if this practical interpretation is challenged and recourse is had to the competent external authority, the interpretation of the authority who approved the constitutions in the first place is the one that prevails. Another common occurrence is practical accommodation of an institute's mission and apostolic works by the superiors and members in accord with c. 677. An institute may adapt its apostolate from educating orphans, for instance, to educating Blacks or Hispanics. Or, again, an institute may relin-quish nursing in hospitals in order to serve in home-nursing ministries. Some-times these accommodations are not subsequently or accurately incorporated into one's constitutions by a general chapter. But legal affirmation of such adjustments is both the obligation and prerogative of general chapters accord-ing to c. 631. If general chapters do not fulfill their obligations by providing an adequate update of an institute's proper law, the "good news" and "bad news" for the religious will be rendered as mentioned above. Three other forms of apostolic accommodation are also common and can be far more problematic, namely: 684 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 (1) defining the institute's mission and apostolate in so generic a manner that almost any apostolic activity can be included in them, (2) including in the institute's mission and apostolate some activities that appear to be only indirectly connected with its patrimony, and (3) including in the institute's mission and apostolate those activities which relate closely to those prohibited for religious in universal law. It would be unrealistic--if not grandiose--to attempt a treatment here of the specifics of each of these instances, but all three can certainly be recog-nized as occasions for another play of tensions between just autonomy and hierarchical structure. In the process of approval of constitutions, competent ecclesiastical authorities often perceive these instances as fostering generic vagueness or minute inclusiveness or institutional challenges: Their response is usually to request or to mandate adjustments in wording and/or content. This is often viewed by the institutes both as a violation of their just auto-nomy and as a negation of their renewal experiences. There is no doubt that the attitudes of those involved in the dialogues concerning constitutional revision are crucial to the results. In the first case just suggested, there can be--but need not be--a real danger of dissipating an institute's resources by too extensive a diversification within a generic category, such as education or health care or social justice. In the second, there can be, but need not be, a noble attempt to "legitimize" the activity of every member, however diversified, by incorporating it by name into the institute,s proper law. In the third, there can be, but need not be, a genuine and necessary prophetic challenge to the gradually institutionalized: restrictions on Gospel imperatives. Whether competent authorities and reli-gious institutes approach these and similar situations from a stance of polari-zation and confrontation or from a stance of pluralism and constructive compromise alters the "flashpoint" of the matter involved. A "flashpoint" is the degree of flammability of combustible materials. Most readers will probably be aware that there have been many tenuous "flashpoints" approached and passed by the interaction of hierarchy and religious--as well as among religious themselves--throughout history. Such opposition and conflict, indeed, utter conflagrations at times, have been regrettable and are certainly not to be excused.4 But in the interaction of religious charism and ecclesial institution they will always be potentially present. Suggestions are sometimes made that religious institutes experiencing great charism/hierarchical tensions might opt for what is referred to as "non-canonical" status. Legally speaking "non-canonical" is a misnomer as well as an almost impossible option. Religious institutes are by law public juridic persons (c. 634, 116 §2). Canonical Considerations / 685 This means they automatically have a "canonical status" which can also be described as legal standing or public authentication within the ecclesial structure. This status is understood to guarantee the soundness of the insti-tute's charism and traditions, to empower the duly elected officers of the institute forgoverning, and to confer a mandate on the institute (and its members) for apostolic activities. It is quite clear in Church law that only the appropriate ecclesiastical authorities--namely, Diocesan ]~ishops or the Apostolic See--can erect religious institutes (cc. 576, 578-579, 589), can approve and accept the charisms of founders and foundresses (c. 578), and can officially interpret and moderate the practice of the evangelical counsels (c. 576). Any public juridic person in the Church is by law a "perpetual" entity and can be legitimately extinguished only by competent authority (c. 120 §1). The Apostolic See alone is able to suppress an institute of consecrated life once it has been canonically erected (c. 584). On the occasion of such sup-pression, the disposition of the goods of the institute, which are by law "ecclesiastical goods" (c. 1257), belongs to the Apostolic See (c. 584) unless the approved statutes of the public juridic person (i.e., the institute's proper law) provide otherwise (c. 123). Thus, the material possessions of any religious institute, as well as the final decisions regarding what is to be done with them, do not belong ultimately to the institute or to its members but to the institutional Church. Moreover, religious institutes are "collegial" public juridic persons (c. 115 §2) andas such continue to exist (unless suppressed) as long as there is one surviving member, upon whom all the rights and obliga-tions of the institute devolve (c. 120 §2). For two major reasons, therefore, it is not legally realistic for a religious institute as such to become "non-canonical" in response to the tensions experienced in the interplay of the institute's charism and hierarchical struc-tures: (1) suppression of a religious institute is difficult to accomplish and (2) truly non-canonical status is almost impossible to find. First, an institute does not have the authority to suppress itself; and it is rare that all members of an institute might opt for requesting suppression by the Apostolic See. If such were the case., however, the juridic person could totally cease to exist. But if even a few chose to remain and were allowed to do so, these few would then enjoy all the rights and assume all the obligations of the still existing original religious institute. The ecclesiastical goods of the institute would also be subject to the care and control of the remaining members according to Church law? In other words, the mem-bers of any religious institute cannot simply decide to self-destruct the juridic person and head off into the sunset, each fortified with his or her own "piece 686 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 of the (institutional) rock." Second, even if an institute were sup

Issue 44.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1985. ; REvtEw Fo~ R ELIGIOUs(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 uffices are located .at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR R ELIGIOLIS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1985 by R EV~EW FOR R ELIGtOUS, Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $10.00 a year; $19.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year (postage). For subscription orders or change of address, write REvl[w RELIGIOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel E 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 July/August, 1985 Volume 44 Number 4 Manuscripts, hooks for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to RI:vIEW ~OX RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVlEW FOR R EL~amUS; Room 428; 3601 LindeH 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 Rdo; Ann Arbor, M! 48106. Answering the Call of Christ M. Ingeborg Rohner, 0 S. E This article is based on a,talk given by Mother Ingeborg at the national meeting of the Institute on Religious Life which was held, in Washington D.C. in June of this year. Mother lngeborg is sgrving as provincial of her community,,and resides at St. Francis Convent; 2120 'Central Avenue; Alton, IL 62002. All of us here have heard a great deal in recent years about vocations to the religious life. So very much of what we have been hearing goes under the general heading of "Vocation Crisis~---why the crisis arose, and what we. should be doing about I do not intend here to propose'new analyses to explain, or remedies to resolve this crisis. Rather I would hope,to be able to share simply with you a summation of what we in our community have been doing to foster vocations, and what we have learned from the effort. My primary credential for addressing this subject has been my fourteen years of experience (1970- 1984) as director of novices for my community, du.ring which time I have also been responsible for vocation recruitment. Before sharing these experiences with you, I would like to attempt to give some formulation to the fundamental and evolving understanding of the nature of vocation that I have brought tothis twofold task given to me by my community. I am made the,bolder in this attempt because I find myself in such agreement with the statements of our Holy Father in his apostolic exhortation Redemptionis Donum: "The call to the way of the evangelical counsels springs from the interior encounter with the love of Christ, which is,a°redeeming love. christ calls precisely through this love of his" (n. 3). The Holy Father cites the well-known passage from Mark (10:21), 481 4112 / Review for Religious, 'July-August~ 1985 applying it specifically to the matter of vocation: "And Jesus, looking upon [the young man], loved him." This look--a specifically personal look takes on a spousal character, the Holy Fath, et notes, involving as it does a choice made on the basis of an exclusive love-relationship. The gospel narrative is the basis of my confidence that there will always be vocations to that explicit form of evangelical radicalism which we call religious life. I am confident of this simply and in the final analysis because we have been created for God--and thus created for love. Every vocation has its origin when Love itself--our loving God--looks into the eyes,into the hearts, of those who truly seek h'im. Whenever this happens, the fire of a radical love-response will be enkindied. St. Francis looked once into the ~yes of the Crucified One and under-stood this well. From that moment of encounter, he would cry: "Love is not loved!7 ¯ What .did Francis ,see? He saw what each person who is truly called by Christ sees in some fashion: Infinite. Love reaches out to his creature, and asks for a response of love. And that lo~k, and the response it invokes, in briefest terms, constitutes the "vocation-story" of each and every person . who has ever been called by Christ. Since God is Love, I am called to respond to his love. Pontius Pilate once asked: "What is truth?" Perhaps the question for our time ~ought to be: "What is lo.ve?"--because our modern perceptions of the meaning of love seem so distorted. Especially for us religious is ,thi's question of supreme importance because not only does one's initial call/response, but also to a considerable extent does one's perseverance depend on how one understands the meaning of love. The Meaning of Love ¯ St. Thomas Aquinas has defined love as "velle alicui bonum"---to will (effectively) for another~what is good. In its richest understanding, this definition would seem to include within its comprehension., all efforts, to bring another person alive in some fashion; to make another person full and i'ich; to enable another person to realize the full flowering of his or her potential. . In his.Spiritual,Exercises, St.!gnatius of Loyola noted that authentic love becomes manifest~more in deeds than inwords, that it consists in the exchange of complete mutuality between lovers, insofar as this is possible. Quite evidently what is intended in these simple phrases is a real sharing, not ,merely a: verbal exchangi~-of facile promises. What is intended is a sharing of all that I have and, much more difficult and frightening--and fulfilling--of.~all that I am. Answering the Call of Christ / 483 This is the form of love that is also at the base of that special covenant relationship which we call spousal. In our humhn experience this form of covenant bonding may, perhaps', begin with a kind of fascination, an experience which is not deliberately chosen, but which "happens" to indi-viduals. Yet, when it is authentically human, it ends with a commitment, it ends with a :decision, it ends with a definitive'choice, a choice that-is characterized by the word unconditional, a~ choice which includes as its further limit,forever. " " This is the kind of love that is revealed in the life and being and teaching of Christ. When the Holy Father talks about the love that the religious somehow experiences, to which the religious is called to make a responsei .it is this kind oflove to which he is pointing. It is the love of choice, of commitment, it involves the definitive handing over of oneself. It. is a love, therefore, that ischaracterized by fidelity in the commitment that has been undertaken. ~. The Mystery of V9caf!on ~, A vocation, the call or summons from Christ that isaddressed:to an. individual, involves.a mystery. However it happens, however the.process i~ launched, to whatever moment we point,as marking its "beginning," the more fundamental question ofeach~vocation story yet remains: Whatis it in, me, ,in my personal.history, that has already "set me up" so that 1 become responsive to that particular stimulus, and choose to answer in this particular way? How do I come to perceive that I am called, that I am called to this particular community? ~ ~ ~ " " What.is' it, this mysterious .something, that can bring (o the convent door and entrance into religious life, a person ~who oftentimes, is barely Christian, a person who knows.the proper words, perhaps, but has not yet really heard them, and is not reallylquite sure what they mean--words fis fundamental as: God,-Trinity, Christ, sacraments, Church. Yet. there clear!y is something.thatdraws this particular person to a ;way of life that, she does not know, that she does not understand,, but upon which she is some.how simply willing to embark. How can the response of such a person be a response of love, the unique response to a unique call that is centered upon the ~rson of Christ who is to become her All, when she does not even know, really, who Christ is?0 ' .~. I have witnessed this process, too often to be able to deny it. God, in his goodness, mysteriously touches the soul of such a persrn in a way ihat makes it possible for her to hear him say to tier:~ "You, come and follow me!'?.She, in turn; effectively says: "Who are you?'l don't even know you." 484 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 And he says, in effect: "Come andsee! In time you will know! For now, just come and follow me." And, so very often, this is what she does. And, so very often, this is what actually happens. When the person is responsive, it does happen that, out of such seeming nothingness there can blossom, a genuine vocation. Out of seemingly nothing a :relationship does grow and develop between her person and the person of Christ. A soul content with its God even thus vaguely understood, a soul that is beginning to consider everything else as of little value,is a soul that is opening unto God and to the movements of God within it. And God can and does act on that soul. .In each individual, then, what is of crucial importance to the develop-ment of a vocation are those specific components of .personality which make us to be the individuals that we are, those peculiar sensitivities which make us to bealert and attentive so as to hear God's call in the first place, and tO respond to its gradual unfolding within our life-story. Every vocation is always utterly unique, even as is the person to whom it is addressed. Christ deals with each soul in a vefy~concrete way. The transcript of his dealings with each soul constitutes that person's life-history. It is in the working out Of this life-story 'that different individuals .arrive through so many different paths at the convent door.' It really does not make much difference, .then, what actually brings a person to the convent door. All kinds of influences and incentives can be found to be operative, even today, in bringing this to pass: adolescent hero-worship; distinctiveness of dress or function, a specific career choice, a generous, but barely differentiated impulse to serve. All of these have been operative in the different vocation stories. It really doesn't matter, very much what it is that actually brings a person, to the door. What is of crucial importance for the development of authentic human life within the convent is why the person remains, even though the final coming to terms with this may involve a process of growth that can even require years for its full development. It is the openness to the possibility of such growth that is absolutely required if this life-choice is not to be frustrated. Vocation as aProcess . , Experience has ~convinced me that typically by the time of vows the novice really is in a position to commit herself--if only after a fashion but still effectively--to the way of life that she has chosen for herself. I am not at all sure, though; that every novice, even by the time of vows,-has yet~truly found her vocation, her call, the concrete determinants that will specify her way of responding. The newly professed are often still very far from know- Answering the Call of Christ ing how to, or even being willing to, let God be God in their lives. Even as their director, then, I don't always fully understand how a vocation develops within each individual. I do know we formation people do not cause any vocation to grow. Our office is' to discern, to invite, to clarify matters with the individual. Our task is to maintain an atmosphere that is nurturing, one in which this mystery that is.a vocation can develop. But beyond these forms of enablement we are only bystanders and observers of the developing relationship that takes place between the individuaiand her God. Vocation, then, is a process. It is not an instant product. It is a Very ,gradual process, one that has a beginning and a middle, but there is no identifiable end-point to its development in this world. I don't know how, or even that the process is going on day after day--even in my own soul--except by looking back, by recognizing in retrospect how he has brought me, in ways that I don't often understand, to ~xperience him in ways that I could not predict; and he has done this not according to any plan of mine, but according to his own free determinations. Christ does not normally call saints tO religious life. Normally he calls d~velol6ing, limited human persons who are willing, even if inconsistently so, to become saints. He calls them to enter upon a lifelong enterprise with him. ~And herein, it seems tome, lie the essence and the theology of religious vocation. The Vocation "to Be" "In the 50s, 60s and 70s, and even into the 80s, we religious had been putting a great deal of emphasis in our vocational literature on the works that we do. We used to advertise constantly the service that our congrega-tions were doing "for Christ": teaching, nursing, social work, and so forth. And we invited young people to join us in those enterprises, But, especially today, sooner or later there must arise the question: "But why be a religious? I can do all these works 'for Christ' as a lay person." And that, of course, is quite true! This is the reason why 1 personally atiach such great importance to a theme that our Holy Father, John Paul II, has been trying so very hard, and in such a variety of ways to emphasize, as he also does in Redemptionis Donum: What religious are is of far greater.importance than what religious do. Our vocation is a call to be, more than it is a call to do. "Doing," .of course, is going to follow out of that call, out of that "being~" But the call to religious life is a call to be! This is a theme of such great importance, one which we in formation work must find ways of communicating convincingly to our young people. 4116 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 This is the understanding of vocation that' has influenced so strongly what we in our community and province have been doing in our vocational ministry. But enough o.f theory! Let us pass, now, to facts regarding our com-munity and its experience of the past fourteen years of exercising this ministry. A Summary of Our Congregation Worldwide, the total number of sisters in our congregation is 1,917. Our motherhouse is in Germany; we also have provinces in-Holland, Japan, Indonesia, Africa, and America (including a rapidly developing mission in Brazil). In descending order, our largest novitiates are located in Germany, USA, Brazil, and Indonesia. The combined American province includes all of the United States, as well as Brazil. ~The mission in Brazil, now twelve years old, includes seven stations and hasa rapidly growing novitiate and postulancy. The total ,population of,our, combined province is 134 sisters, with an ave.rage age of 28. For the United States proper these figures are 10! sisters, whose aver~age age is 31 years. It is about this segment of our province that I propose now to comment. In my tenure as director of novices (1970-84), 101 you.ng women entered our 6ommunity. Fifty-five of this number remain in the community while, all told, forty-six have left. Of those fifty-five sisters, sixteen are in first formation, twenty-four are. junior-professed, and fifteen are sisters with final vows. Statistics on ThoJe Who Have Left the Community : 26 individuals left as postulants: 18 chose to leave 8 were asked ! 1 sisters left as noyices: 6 chose to leave 5 were asked 8 sisters left as juniors: 7, chose to leave, I was asked 1 finally professed sister chose to leave. Hopefully the fundamental motivation of the fifty-five sisters wh'o remain in our community is clear: these are women who want to continue on the way they have chosen, the way of learning how to return love for Love, life for Life, and, with his grace, they will persevere in this course that they' have Chosen. ' Reasons for Departure Regarding those who have left our community, the discoverable reasons for., their departure are manifold. Almost a fifth of these women were found to be afflicted ,with some incapacitating mental illness. Sometimes it is the pressure of convent living which brings such to the surface. Answering the Call of Christ / 487 Doubtless~in. some instances the potential for this factor should hax?e been discovered prior to admission--and we are getting better at this important task. On the other hand, our candidates come from all over (he continent, and in the practical order it is difficult to have sufficient time with them for the successful identification of every latent illness. ~ ' In "a few instances, those who departed from our community finally yielded tO' faniily pressure. It takes ~ourage and at times a great deal:o~" stamina to'live out the Gospel imperatives which demand that one' lbave family and all things else in order to be a disciple of Christ. "Whoever puts tiis hand to the plow but keeps looking back is unfit for the reigfi of Grd" (Lk 9:62). In these instances, apparently, the faith of the individual was hot strong enough to withstand the pressure generated by the drain of the contrary feelings experienced in the face of familial displeasure. In yet other instances, ianguage barriers and transcultural trauma affected the outcome of admission. Perhaps in these instances I was naiv~ in not assigning greater weight to the difficulty that such factors would briiag to the formation experience when I accepted into the novitiate per-sons too recently arrived in this country, or too recently con{,erted to the Church. Chastity, too, is a source of a variety of problems, the basic remedy of which remains the same. St. John, the virgin apostle resting on tl~e bosom of Christ, remains the symbol of th~ love-relationship which must develop ¯ between the consecrated celibate and God. Its absolute necessity li~s been evidenced again and again in my experience. What is at issue here is not the maintenance of some form of sterile virginity,_ but the hurturing of a "garde~a well protected," of a "secret place" reservbd for the One Bridegroom to whom th~ individual has pledged herself, whom she has chogen for herself. There is room as well of course! for the 1rye-experience of a Mary Magdalene, who knew ho~, ~o love totally because she knew how to love ardently. Bfit no~mally virginity tl~rown carelessly away, or purity held. cheaply does not provide fertile soil for the growth of true love. So it was that about a fifth of thosewho departed from our community had been 'playing (I chose the term' deliberately) with sex, 6yen while still among us, apparently~ scar~:ely realizing the gravity of their actions against their own lives and hopes, as well as against God, the community, and the larger society. Lacking in genuin~ interior discipline, they often seemed weakened in spirit to the point of no longer even recognizing or desiring their ~:rnsecrated chastity as a positive value. ~ Theexperience of being sex.ually abused in childhood was fi fact~,r in a few instances of those Whose leaving was partly motivated by the demands of "41~11 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 chastity. I know that often in such Eases something effective can be done-- because I have seen it happen. In these instances, however, we were-not able to find that "something." In regard to the need for friendship in religious life and our natural hunger for human love, a spiritualdirector once said: "Don't give yourself to love unless you have given up love." In some cases this principle appar-ently was not grasped, or, if grasped,' was not accepted. There was one clear instance of lesbianism. But evidence of immaturity and an excessive sensu-ality in the quest for intimacy seemed to be operative in other cases. The "Third Way" is no longer considered "in." But there has lingered a misun-derstood desire for friendship leading to relationships which prove to be actually counter-productive, stifling genuine interest in growing or even maintaining a spiritual life. Eventually some individuals were asked to leaye. ¯ Perseverance Reflecting upon the experience we have had with all those who have left our community, I have come to the conviction that if "vocation" is a mystery, perseverance in one's vocation is no less so. I have wondered how applicable, in certain of these instances, might be the suggestion contained in Bonhoeffer's phrase: some were "hoping to live by 'cheap grace.'" St. Paul wrote: "You have been purchased, and at a price!"(l Co 6:20). It is the cross of Christ that is the purchase price of our redemption. There isjusi no cheap or easy way to give my life back to him in the daily lived response of my love. ~ A very evident problem of our time is that of perseverance in one's commitment. The young people Who join us come from.a society that is geared to the expectation of instant results. Their expe, ctation is real, even if its fulfillment is beyond the realm of the possible. There is no such thing in real life corresponding to what is longed for in our "instant society,." bu~t they have been taught that the dream is real, and they have. bought into the dream. And the dream undermines their seriousness of purpose and their constanc~ in commitment. The young people who come to us have spent a tremendous proportion of their lives before a TV screen. Formation persons .should look at TV from time to time specifically to remind themselves of the surrounding culture out of which their young charges have come. They might look specifically to see what has been so formative in the lives of today's young people. Perhaps as formative as the shows and movies of TV is the constant repetition of the message of easy success and instant gratification that is communicated in the flow of advertising. All commercials, it seen/s, prom- Answering the Call of Christ ise in one fashion or other instant satisfaction, immediate relief from pain, the effective remedy to every discomfort, success in business, wealth beyond measure, the guarantee of the deepest and most enduring of interpersonal relationships--parenting as well as r.omantic--all of which attractive goals are to be won by th~ use of mere products. The key to Prince Charming's Success lies in a tube of toothpaste; a lozenge guarantees success in meeting the girl of one's dreams--and effort-lessly living happily ever after! Oh, no one consciously, knowingly assumes such patently absurd attitudes. But attitudinal formation is seldom conscious and knowing. And so they come to us, the young, with their expectation of "instant holiness" as well! They really do anticipate immediate and unending union with God, constant consolation in prayer, gratification in work, an imme-diate perception of the worthwhileness of whatever they are doing. They really do look forward to finding heaven on earth in the convent. They really do anticipate living out their days 'with lovable and loving compan-ions, within the walls of perfect, ready-made Eommunities. And the pain of disillusionment is heavy indeed. Our young people today need a great deal more attention and care, counseling and encouragement, and affirmation ~than did our generations of a simpler age. In my own novitiate, there was one director for l I0 novices. Today we offer the young much, much more help--both from within the community, through the greater number of persons assigned to the work of formation, ahd through reliance on a variety of outside resour-ces as well. Yet there is no sure or magic remedy for solving all problems. There is no structure, no system that can guarantee perseverance, l can no mo~e guarantee my fidelity to my vocation than I can guarantee my salvation. The strength that I need can only be found in him who~called me, and in ¯ his acceptance of my self:gift. Left to myself, then, 1 could not guarantee even today. But relying on him, I have confidence that, even if I should fail today, he, the Faithful One of Israel, will raise me up again; he will make up for my infidelity. I know this to be true because I have experienced it to be so in my own life, and I have witnessed it to be so in ~the lives of so many others. I have experienced and I have seen that he uses our weaknesses, even as he uses our strengths, in order to fastiion the persons he loves and calls into being. Apart from him, because of my own experience of being human, I know I could not promise him "forever." With him, I could hope to do so because he accepts my promise, and in accepting my promise he pledges himself to be my enablement. 490 / Review for Religious, July, August, 1985 Another source of unrest, a negative influence on t.he possibility of perseverance for the young today, is the emphasi.s that our culture places on feelings. Faith is not. a matter of feelings, but of trust and decision. Young people, however, tend to base their decisions largely on fedings. If I feel good, what I am about is all right. If I feel bad, then I made a wrong decision, and should simply change my situation. 'This is also perhaps the greatest source of failed commitment in our society today--witness our soaring divorce rate. A vocation is the source of a developing relationship .between persons. It is a personal encounter, one on one, and involves the personal experience of the redeemi ~ng love,invitation of Christ and the personal response made by the individual, an integral person, made up of a very concrete body and a very part~c~ular soul. Christ does not extend his invitation to an. abstrac-tion, nor is a stereotype capable of making a personal response. A vocation, then, is always deeply involved with concrete, historical specificity--which means that it has to do with an individual ~with a very particular history, wiao is Composed of very specific wrinkles and warts, Stains and blemishes, the sum of all his or her shortcomings as well as of his or her assets, which, all combined, constitute the existential reality, that is the object of the choice Christ made when he said to the individual: "Come!" .~ I don't know for certain that all the forty-six young women who left our community during those fourteen years did not have a call from God to the religious life. I don't know--whether through their fault or mine--a real vocation was lost in one or other instance. On the other hand, there is also the Gospel story to consider of the man from Gerasa out of whom Christ drove unclean spirits. This man, too, wanted to follow Christ, but he was told: "Go home to your family, and make it clear to them how much the Lord in his mercy has done for you." (Mk 5:19). Whatever the result of such a reflection, ,every departure from the convent works some hardship on the community as well.as on the individual. There is always some degree of tension and an experience of sorrow sur-rounding every departure. ~ And so by tile end of my tenure in office, I became much more careful in screening candidates, both for their sake and for ours. Even so, when novices or postulants leave I am not overly concerned. Their coming, after all, was for the ~ke of a testing. But St.~ Paul says: ":God's gift and his call are irrevocable!" And so it would seem that, once a call has been confirmed by the acceptance of her vows in the .Ch, urch, the individual making profession should be able to persevere in her commitment ~with the help of God's grace. Every departure of a professed sister leaves me uneasy, questioning, most especially if the sister be finally professed. I Answering the Call of Chris~ / 491 do grieve over each such departure--~ven as, at times, 1 can recognize its inevitability. Who Is Accepted? Understanding vocation in the way I have outlined obviously is going to have ramifications on our attitudes and on procedures we devise for receiving young women into our community. On principle, any girl who applies will be,given serious consideration. This principle is based, not on what some might call the "warm body syndrome," but on the conviction that God is generous with his grace, and that we in our turn must be eager to identify, nurture and celebrate the gift of this grace--which is a ,voca-tion- whenever and wherever we find it. Our openness to the discovery of vocations must be a very active openness. ~ 'Thus it :is that we have accepted girls of vastly varied backgrounds and conditions into our community. We have accepted graduates fight out of high school, provided that they have reached their eighteenth .birthday. We have accepted ~some young women with incomplete college experience, as we have accepted others with undergraduate and graduate degrees. In fact, we have accepted two women who came to us with Ph.D.'s. And we have also accepted candidates coming to us from a variety of other backgrounds in the kind and length of the work experience they bring. For myself, and experience has convinced me of this, I belie~,e that criteria,based on age and education or the length of work experience play but relatively little part in helping us to discern a ,readiness on the part of a candidate to answer Christ's call to religious life. The ideal candidate pos, sesses, obviously, a readiness and a capacity to love--and to give her life entirely to Christ, Such a person will always have some intuitive perception that this includes embracing his cross as well; involving the need for self-denial. The presence of such traits in some degree, surely, is what identifies who is clearly ready to enter into religious life. But sufficient for entrance also, other things being equal, can be simply a willingness to be generous. The desi~:e or need to be a caring person can be enough to warrant the beginning of the process of discerning a vocation, hence ultimately, perhaps, of admitting a candidate into religious life, In short, I remain firm in the.conviction that the seed of vocation is to be found in very simple soil, that God is, indeed, generous with his gift of the charism of vocation among his People.ol~believe that I find support for this conviction in the. injunction addressed by St. Paul to the Church of Corinth: ~ Brothers, consider ygur situation. Not many of you are wise, as men account wisdom, not many are influential; and Surely, not many are well- 492 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 born. God chose those whom the world considers absurd to shame the wise; he singled out the weak of this world to shame the strong. He chose the world's lowborn and despised, those who count for nothing, to reduce to nothing those who were something; so that mankind can do no boasting before God (1 Co 1:26-29). All of us who have answered Christ's call are carrying a precious treasure in "earthen vessels." We are all fragile and limited. In point of fact, it is precisely persons of the sort that Paul describes who do answer, and have always answered, the call of Christ. Do young people today prefer, or look.for "traditional" communities? At first glance it might seem that they do; the facts seem to suggest this conclusion. But being "traditional" of itself will not attract or keep new members in a community. As for our own congregation, 1 hope and pray that it would be our love for God and his Christ, our love for the Church, our joyful service of God's People, our constant endeavor to overcome our sinfulness, our desire to live in community, and, perhaps most of all, our evident awareness of who we are and what we are trying to accomplish with our lives, with the help of his grace--that these are what constitute our attractiveness and the effec-tiveness of our invitation to young people to come be with us, and to strive with us to do the same. The procedure we follow in establishing and maintaining contact with potential candidates is simplicity itself. We have very modest advertisements in a few publications; there is word of mouth; and to some extent there is theinfluence of our few institutions. These are the sourcesofjust about all of our initial contactg. But, whatever the source, every contact is taken very seriously, and every individual who makes contact receives individual, consistent--and even persistent--attention. The sisters who undertake this labor of maintaining personal contact have made lasting friendships beyond the circle of' those who actually became candidates, who actually entered. This, in barest outline, is our entire procedure of vocation-re-cruitment. There will always be vocations to the radical living of the Gospel, just as there will always be people who would "dare to let God be God'in their lives." The seriousness and the respect with which we treat every initial contact is based on this assumption. , Surely we live in times that are hard for religious life. Of course we are aware that throngs of young people are not beating on convent doors seeking entrance. Yet we ought not to abandon hope as though God were not Lord. This difficult age is the time into which you and I are born by ,God's Answering the Call of Christ / t193 holy will. And we always seek to embrace this holy will. We have to pray, to sacrifice, and to surround with tender, but also with effective care, those whom God has called and entrusted to us. We have to make earnest efforts to find these young people and to invite them to continue the project of religious life into the future, not for the sake of maintaining a community or an institution, but that God's grace.might continue to be evidenced to a world that is hungry for our witness, and that his kingdom might be enfleshed in our time, too--in accordance with his most holy will. Speaking to seminarians in 1979, our Holy Father said: It is worth dedicating oneself to the cause of Christ, who wants valiant and decided hearts . It is worth making an option for an ideal that will give you great joys, even if at the same time it demands a good many sacrifice!! May those who have received the gift of a call to this life and service take these words into their hearts with courage and joy! "It is worth it!"---as we all here today know so well. Trinitarian Image Let us make man to our image and likehess (Gn 1:26). The Father's image: creating, loving, providing; Dimmed by destroying, not caring, denying. The Son's image: compassionate, patient, self-immolating; Blurred by indifference, impatience, self-seeking. The Spirit's image: sanctifying, consoling, strengthening; Marred by debasing, neglectihg, undermining. Dimmed, blurred, marred By life's harsh ways, Unexpectedly, breathtakingly revealed By mankind suffering. Sister Catharine Consilii, S.S.J. 17 ! I Race St. Philadelphia, PA 19103 Facing the Future: Formation in Apostolic Spirituality Patricia Spillane, M.S. C. Our readers will recognize Sister Spillane as the author of"From Tablet to Heart: In-ternalizing New Constitutions," which appeared in the issues of July/August and September/October, 1982, and which is still available as a single reprint. Sister, a 'Missionary of the Sacred Heart, is a novice director for her community, and is involved in "Philadelphia's very ac~tive inter-community formation program." She may be addressed at the Sacred Heart Novitiate; 67th and Callowhill Streets; Philadelphia, PA 19151. As theologians, spiritual writers, and religious leaders struggle with the attempt to define and clarify apostolic spirituality---especially as it is emerging today among American men and women religious--we, as minis-ters of formation, have a special problem. ~There are fifteen years remaining until 2000 A.D. During these years, how are we to fulfdl our responsibilities to our congregations, to the Church, arid to the wrrld in helping to form men and women who are ready for the adventure and challenge of apostolic religious life? Some of us may be tempted to ignore the challenge before us, maintain-ing a style of formation that certainly worked in the past, but may not prepare persons for the reality they must face in the next fifteen years. Others of us may see so much flux about us that we may decide that "mainstreaming" is the best approach to formation, and so fail to provide the basic core of stability necessary for religious and human development. How do we avoid these two extremes? I am sure that all of us will spend the closing years of this millennium in seeking adequate responses to that question. 494 Formation in Apostolic Spirituafity / 495 In these pages I would like to focus on some characteristics of our emerging apostolic spirituality, and offer some tentative formational guidelines: To begin with, it seems to me: Apostolic religious are called to be evangelizers in an environment that it " increasingly de-structured and stressful. This calls for greater maturity in ' both religious identity and personal identity. Apostolic Religious Are Called to Be Evangelizers , If we are to be, and to form, men and woman of and for the Church, we are called to form evangelizers since: ° Evangelizing is in fact the grace and vocation proper to the Church, her deepest identity,. She exists in order to evangelize.~ Therefore, beyond any professional skills with which men and women come to religious life today, and the professional formation ,.we may subse-quently giv~e them, there must be a primary commitment to .the central mission of evangelization. Whether a Young religious is destined io. be a DRE, a parish social minister, a CEO in a large hospital, or a Dean of Students in an academic environment, he or she must be primarily an eWhgelizer within any given structure or situation. , To prepare persons to become evahgelizers calls for a twofold thrust. On'the one hand, We need to motivate them for their o,wn ongoing spiritual journey: [they] have a constant need ~f being evangelizqdthemselves, if [they] wish to retain freshness, vigor, and strength in order to proclaim the Gospel (EN 15). On the other hand, we need to encourage personal maturation in them of the human foundation on which the spiritual Can build the maturation in self-awareness and capacity for discernment which is so essential for mission and evangelization. For example, we need to help persons in formation to recognize their own tendency to hide behind a role, or profes-sional structure, .or human efficiency instead of dealing directly with the risky business that evangelization can be. Not only must they be in an evangelizing stance with those to whom they minister, but even more importantly, also with their lay collabora"tors and peers. Often those who can easily minister to students, patients, or parish families are threatened when called upon to address those same issues with faculty, staff, pastoral associates, and others. If our religious institutions are to remain viable into the third millennium, this evangelization of staff is even more essential. As formators of apostolic religious, we need to help men and women in 496 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 initial formation to grow in the strength and clarity of their personal religious identity so that they can face the anxiety-provoking and risky challenges of evangelization at all levels. In becoming aware of who they really are and who they are called to be, young religious can move away from defensively using comfortable positions and allow themselves to be confronted by the unsettling demands of evangelization. Similarly, those who have become Comfortable with evangelization need to be flexible enough to respond ~to the needs of the congregation within its institutiom, see the evangelical possibilities in that setting, and not cling to situations that may be' more personally satisfying. A growing capacity for mobility and flexibility--for realistic adjustments to the demands of the apostolate; .congregation, and Church--is essential for apostolic religious formation. Otherwise, we run the risk of always having to adjust the apostolate, congregation and Church to the demands of the individual. In an Environment That Is Increasingly De-structured In many congregations, much of the pre-Vatican II system of a well-or-dered religious life regulated by stated norms and given structures has disappeared. However, the need for personal and group order remains. What has replaced the external structures and systems? A vacuum? Chaos? Peer pressure? Ideally, we would like to think that it has been replaced by individuals who have the cap~icity to structure themselves and make deci-sions about external structures that are both human .and value-oriented. But since experience teaches us that this does not happen automatically, what are we doing as formators to foster the'development of such individ-uals? Are we providing people in initial formation with sufficient opportu-nity to make their own decisions, build up their own "structures, and then reflect on how those decisions and structures promote their formation?' The decrease in numbers of personnel has also contributed to destruc-turing. Men and women entering religious life today must be ready to enter into smaller communities; they may be the sole religious in a school, clinic or agency. Again, this requires a different style of relating, a greater facility in communicating with different .types of people. Religious need to be much more independent, while at the same time committed to the value and process.of community-building. Hence the identities of which I have already spoken must include the'capacity for both autonomy and intimacy in the kind of religious life that can move ahead to the millennium. The decrease of religious structures also means that we do not live surrounded by visible reminders of our faith, but in an increasingly secular-ized world. Consumerism, professionalism, self-actualization can appeal to our emotional needs and dull that faith vision of who we are and what we Formation in Apostolic Spirituality / 497 ¯ are called to be in the world for others. People coming into religious life (and those already present!) can bring with them a real confusion between their needs and values, colored and encouraged by a society of which they are a part. To be able to distinguish clearly between what is emotionally attractive and what is consonant with the Gospel requires a process of human and spiritual integration that takes time and skill. However, with-out it, apostolic discernment can flounder, our faith vision can be distorted in the service of ourselves, and we can substitute our personal preferences for the Gospel .of Christ. In An Environment That Is Increasingly Stressful Change, work, pressure, being too alone, being too close--all of these can prove threatening to different individuals at different times, producing stress and tension. While a certain amount of life-stress is inevitable and should be an impetus for growth, certain kinds and levels of stress tear at the very fabric of apostolic religious life. Naturally, we will experience the tension of renunciation between our own needs and Gospel values if we are trying to follow the Lord, but he rarely asks us to labor passively under continuous stress. Persons differ in their capacity to withstand stress and in their ways of coping with it. Some carry such an inner burden of conflict that hardly any external pressure is needed before they feel any stress; these may be the same persons who have never developed effective coping mechanisms to deal with the normal tensions of life. Others may unconsciously deny the inner effects of external pressure--only to end up ulcerated, aggravated or acting out in inappropriate ways. People in early stages of religious life development need to have a good handle on their inner stress patterns and coping mechanisms so that they will be able to face the realistic difficulties ahead of them. Unrealistic expectations of future community and mission need to be encountered and dealt with one by one, along with an understanding of what inner factors interact with external difficulties to make stress reach intolerable levels. The years of initial formation would seem to be an excellent time for dealing with inner tensions, so that later these may not be the source of distortion, projection and unnecessarily high tension in the community and mission. For example, someone who expects community to be far more nurturing than it can or should be may need help to understand what factors in them produce such a,need-expectation for support, affirmation and comfort. Another who expects community assignments to enhance her own profes-sionalism must confront why her inner security and self-esteem are so 4911 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 shaky. Both kinds: of situations produce frustration and stress that can. easily become intolerable unless they can begin to be defused :by one ,who understands both the person and the values of the congregation. Since so many religious congregations .are .in a state of bridging between, the past that is still with us and a future that breaks out here and there, we need to address with those in formation those realistic sources of tension that are built into our current state of religious life; i.e., tensions ~that may be generated by: -living with religious who are threatened by or resentful of change; -being the only religious ministering in a particular institution; -having assumed too much work and too ~much responsibility and more. We need to be able to deal with the stress inherent in forging ahead, which always involves leaving behind: -leaving behind familiar patterns of living and working, to risk the new and unfamiliar in an effort to respond to God's people; -enduring Separation from friends and loved ones. to move to areas where the need is greatest; -leaving behind our own concepts of ministry to be able to. listen and respond to what the community is asking; -"letting go" of consumer comforts that we can use to,assuage our tensions and pain. All of this indicates that we should not be passive victims of stress, but active collaborators in seeking to integrate and hear what the Lord is saying behind or through each tension. As formation ministers, we cannot expect to help others unless we ourselves have dealt with our own stress issues:- the stress of unrealistic expectations from the community, of dis-agreements with those in authority, of our own sense of inadequacy in facing certain problems, of our own reluctance to confront certain individ- Uals or situations. All 'of these create stress; as a :result.we may try to avoid or deny .the problem; repress our anger and depression, somatize our difficulties, or displace upon otherskand never provide the modeling in stress management that young people in. formation need to see in us. Maturity in Religious Identity The 1983 document of the International Union of Superiors General on Apostolic Spirituality maintains that living a truly apostolic religious life calls for "bold initiatives, constancy in self-giving,0and humility in adversity.~2 Such a challenge can only be met on the solid foundation of an integrated life where religious identity has gradually consolidated and merged with personal identity. As the same document reminds us: "Grace Formation in Apostolic Spirituafity / 499 presupposes nature, is grafted onto it, and ennobles it" (AS 9). (Actually it is :misleading to speak of these two identities as separate, but for discussion .purposes, I.~will look at them sequentially.) Religious identity is not a matter of religious enthusiasm or intellectual curiosity, of certain behaviors, practices or opinions. It is the result of a slow process that occurs where someone (whose personal identity has already crystallized to some extent)gradually surrenders to the Lord, stage by stage and step by step, in a context of growing relationship. Often in very young persons or those whose identities are poorly formed for many reasons, :a cloak of religious appearances may cover up the underlying emptiness. In some religious communities, this may take the form of exter-nal conformity and going along with the group; in other communities it may take :the form of using all the right phrases, being involved in all the current issues. However, this pseudo-religious front (which is unconscious to the person) may mask a lack of genuinereligious struggles and personal convictions, of hard.won growth in prayer and faith over the years. It is possible for one whose identity is weak or confusedto join a group that promises a clear picture of who the person is supposed to be. Religious identity is then "put on" as an external garment, rather than being slowly built up from within~. Certainly, religious identity calls for transformation in Christ, but it would seem that normally Christ looks for someone who already t~ in order to enter into transforming dialogue, A pseudo~religious identity will always be looking for external clues in ambiguous community and ministerial situations. He or she will be seeking security along familiar and well-trodden paths. On the contrary, a trans-formed .personal identity will be one that can risk, dare, step out (if even in .only hidden and small ways), He or she will be taking small steps toward the "profound interiority" (AS 20) which alone can see the world with a transforming gospel vision. Only one who is maturing humanly and spirit-ually can enter into genuine ~relationship with the Lord, allowing defenses to. crumble until one stands naked and loved before him. From that matu-ration comes the kind of compassion for other~ and "apostolic love" (-AS 17) that is .the hallmark of apostolic spirituality. How do we promote this process as religious formators? First of all, we must be in .touch with our own faith journey over the years, seeing the various phases of our own maturing in fidelity--as well as being willing to confront those infidelities 'with which we still struggle. Only in that way can we trust .our own intuitions about the maturation in faith of those with whom we work. -~ Secondly, we must insure that "religious identity" is not being Used defensively by identification with religious structures, works or lifestyle.We 500 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 must look to see if the entering person has sufficiently consolidated a sense of self so that grace can build upon nature~ Thirdly, we must remember that religious and human development are intertwined and actively encourage people in formation to get integrated professional help to resolve the inconsistencies that ma3) hamper the development of their voca-tion. Fourthly, we should continue to'provide experiences throughout the formative period where our men and women in formation have the oppor-tunity to struggle with their own religious beliefs, practices and values alone or with less support than they would like. This may sound~cruel, but if they are always surrounded by an environment that is protective of their values, they may be unconsciously only complying for the sake of rewards or punishments, or identifying for the sake of belonging to the. group. (Of .course, we have to be able to provide the hdp to process the experience and support them through the difficulties.) Unless young people find themselves occasionally in situations devoid of rewards or group support, how will they ever know if they have.internalized the value for the sake of the Lord they profess to follow? Whereas a pseudo-religious identity is based on compliance and identification, a genuine religious identity is based on internalization of gospel values that are uniquely appropriated by the indi-vidual within the context of a loving relationship with Christ that extends outward to the community and to the world.4 In an environment where the external structures and norms supporting compliance have disappeared, often we can search for like-minded groups that will support our choices and values. This is one of the reasons why identification with community is so strong among people entering religious life today. Identification is a normal stage for someone entering religious life, but that stance needs to mature and grow. At best, identification is a temporary solution on the road to forging a more mature religious identity that can both walk alone and be with others during the next fifteen years. For example, someone could have identified with a social justice group that provided significant formative influence and support for his emerging identity. While that is a good departure point for a ministry to the poor, sooner or later the person needs to face deeper issues in himself; e.g., perhaps how his anger when his work is not appreciated has more to do with his own conflicts than with his love forthe poor, or how his generosity wanes when his companions move onto another field. A preferential option for the poor needs to be at the service of the poor--not at the service of one's own needs for approval or esteem, or as an expression of one's narcissism or displaced aggression. The poor and emarginated. deserve the best we can give them--the persevering self-less labor of one willing to lay down his life because he has truly understoodand internalized Formation in Apostolic Spirituafity / 501 Jesus' attraction to the powerless and oppressed. We can help people to grow to that point of self-less giving--and often the best place to start ourselves is by embracing the often thankless, frustrating, and lonely posi-tion that is ours as ministers in the service of formation. Maturing in Personal Identity I have already mentioned several components of emerging personal identity that strengthen and consolidate the human foundation that the Lord draws to himself: -the ability to structure oneself in a meaningful and integrated way; -the ability to handle internal and external stress; -the capacity to internalize gospel values which provide a dynamic motivational source. There are many ways in which personal identity interfaces with religious identity, but I would like to mention only one additional factor because of its significance for evangelization--i.e., that maturing in personal identity transforms one's manner of relating to others. Maturing in personal identity is intertwined with the process of individ-uation-- that struggle whereby an individual moves away from either an overly-dependent position of symbiosis or cohesion with another (or group)--or from an overly-independent position of aloofness or distance. Obviously evangelization suffers whenever the evangelizer is fixated at one or another of these levels. But the emerging personality is also being deprived (although the person would not feel it that way!)~ither because the person is too fearful to withstand the necessary experience of being alone--or too fearful to interact--and therefore is effectively deprived of that enriching and maturing stretching that the threatposes. It is through facing and dealing with such initially threatening alternatives (between being with or being without another) that each person rtioves along the individuation spectrum to where autonomy begins to be possible--where someone is personally secure enough to "go it alone" when the Lord calls for that in different apostolic or communitarian situations--while at the same time, retaining a genuine capacity for interaction and dialogue. Thus true autonomy and intimacy are fruits of the long journey towards personal identity for the apostolic religious--characteristics which-.can make them servants of the Lord and of the Church--instead of being bogged down in their own fears and resistances.5 We would be foolish to expect people in formation to have completed this passage. More realistically, we need to recognize the individuals who are dependently enmeshed in relationships that are more dependent than intimate (as well as have the courage to recognize when we ourselves are 509 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 caugh~tA in that bind !), and then lovingly and persistently confront through all the stages of denial and resistance that. follow. Similarly, we need to approach the more disengaged person and persuadg them with time and patience to begin to enter into relationship. In this way, the journey of a thousand miles towards genuine autonomy and intimacy, if it has not already begun by the time of entrance, can do so, with singlebut significant steps ,in the right direction, at the beginning of religious life. Formational Implications Many.formational implications have already been noted in the course of this article. Le me crystallize a few others under two headings: Formation Personnel: If we accept ~he thesis that we need strong religious and human identities to be ev~angelizers in a de-structured and stressful world, then we first have to address these issues for ourselves as formators. How do we as formation personnel deal with prioritizing our own time and energies, with managing our own stress reactio.ns, strugglin~g with our own issues of personal and religious identity? What are we doing for our own perso.nal and spiritual growth processes? How can we understand and empathize with people in formation if we are "detached ~pectators" observ-ing. their struggles from some safe distance or if we are only aware of them on some intellectual level, having,nev~er allowed ourselves to ,get in touch with our own.feelings and our own sense of ourselves? How can we be companions to_those on the formative journey unless we have jou~eyed and been ~accompani~ed ourselves? Obviously there is need for training programs for formation person.nel bu, t, not all.prggrams deal with the issues of personal integration of which.I am speak, ing. It would seem to me that each formator needs to make decisions about where and how he or she will receive this,kind of personal integrating assistance, .so as to be a disciple for the Church and the world by .the turn of the century. Persons in Initial Formation: . Much fine work has.been written concerning spiritual learning and direction _in t,he pre-novitiate, and juniorate programs which needs not be repeated here. However, the issue of how human formation ,interacts with spiritual development.-~-sometimes to enhance.and sometimes toimpede is often a more difficult one for formation personnel. !n recent years, there has been much interest in "readiness criteria" for various stages of formation which include elements, of both religiousand personal identity; for example Formation in Apostolic Spirituality /'503 Giallanza and ~Gleason's concern for comfort with affectivity, personal independence, social comfort, generosity.6 It would seem that apostolic religious life calls for some degree of actualization of ttiese areas prior to entrance, as well. as reliable indications of capacity to continue to grow in .those directions. How can this be addressed.'? ,~ It would seem that one way would be for the congregation to be in dialogue with the professional doing psychological' testing, indicating ahead of time to the psychologist what are their areas of concern for their religious life and apostolate. Specific feedback can then be requested in these areas concerning the person being tested. The psychologist should be able, through depth interviewing, projective and non-projective testing, to assess the strengths and weaknesses of the applicant, to indicate their capacity to grow and mature in the needed areas and under what circum-stances- e.g., spiritual direction, delaying entrance, growth therapy, work experience, etc. In addition to providing feedback on the person's strengths and weaknesses, a psychologist who is a religious may also offer a perspec-tive on how mature the persbn's religious values seem to be. Feedback to the individual is essential so that the assessment can chal-lenge the person to work with formation personnel on their growing edge. There should be also the possibility of further ongoing help so that, ~by ,growing in self-awareness, the individual may free himself or herself more for the kingdom and the great work of evangelizat.ioh to be dofie in the Church. Another equally important component of maturing identity for ~pos-tolic religious life is apostolic experience, carefully planned and monitored to allow the individual to experience the joys and frustrations, challenges and monotonies of missi6n. However, apostglic experience can eithe'r be a tool for grov~h or an occasion of disillusionmeiat and bitterness, dependihg on how aware the persons are of their own tend.encies, of the apostolic reality that lies before them, and of how much help they have had, prior and during, .to process the experience.7 Finally, I think it is important for people entering religious life to gee that we are all engaged in the same struggle and that we, as professed, take our own ongoing formation as seriously as we do initial. In that way, they can have more realistic expectations of where they should be along the continuum of religious life as they move to final profession--and how much the work of maturing in apostolic religious life is the journey of a lifetime. The document on Apostolic Spirituality maintains that: The integration of prayer and action., is a gradually evolving and quite often a falteringly progressive experience. However falteringly, if lived in 504 / Review'for Religious, July-August, 1985 sincere response to God's ongoing call and constantly molding action, it giv~es rise to that Christ-mindedness which should characterize the true apostle (AS 45). Men End women in initial formation need to feel that they are partners with us in the same "falteringly progressive experience." We accompany each other on this passage into Christ-mindedness, steadfastly encouraging ,those who are pilgrims with us along the way. NOTES ~Paul Vl. On Evangelization in the Modem World, Dec., 1975 no. 14. 2"Theological Reflections on Apostolic Religious Life." Molinari; Ewen, Vallejo. USIG Bulletin, no. 62, 1983. (This document was also printed under the same title in Review for Religious, Jan/Feb, 1984.) Hereafter referred to as AS. ~For a more extensive treatment of the interrelationship between human and spiritual development, see: Joyce Ridick, S.S.C., 71"easures in Earthen Vessels: the Vows. Sthten Island: Alba House, 1984. 4For more discussion on the relationship between compliance, identification and inter-nalization in ~:eligious life, see: Luigi Rulla, S,J, Depth Psychology and Vocation. Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1971, esp. pp. 146-152, 307-318. ~For further discussion on the role of identity in religious life, see: Patricia Spillane, M.S.C., "Called to Be Both Loyal and Prophetic," In-Formation, May, 1982. 6Joel Giallanza, C:S.C., and John Gleason, C.S.C., "Reflections on Initial Formation," Human Development, Fall, 1984. 7patricia Spillane, M.S.C., "When is Apostolic Experience Formative for Religious Life?" Reprints of the Religious Formation Conference, October, 1981. Cross-Cultural Formation: ¯ Culture Does Make a Difference Pat Forster, 0 S.E Sister Forster is director of six novices and seven sisters with temporary profession. Her previous experience included nursing and mission work in Latin America. She has earned a Master's Degree from the Franciscan School .of Theology. Sister Forster may be addressed at 727 East Margaret Street; St. Paul, MN 55106. ~n addressing the subject of cross-cultural formation, I believe it is neces-sary to discuss the racial and cultural implications for both the initiate entering a formation culture and for the directors involved in the orientation of a new member to the community as well as of the community, to the new member. I will, then, first speak of the reflections I have embraced as a formation director. Later, I will addressthe implications for the initiate in a multi-cultural environment. Perhaps the call to formation personnel is a little simpler in that the expectations of what is hoped fo, r are put on one person or one team rather than on a whole cgmmunity. Somehow a community expects of formation personnel what in reality .is important for all of its members. The basic needs are the same. Each person in community is essentially a formation dir.ector, and needs the suggestions that will follow in this article. However practically speaking, we all know that doesn't happen. Formatioia personnel will probably be more effective in cross-cultural formation if they have experienced another culture and have, therefore, an understanding of the pain of oppression as well as of the freedom of having entered into another lifestyle. Formation personnel must also be prayerful people who through their reflection and love respond with transcendent 506 / Review for Religious, July-J4ugust, .1985 values. They would, then, respect the whole person, regardless of c61or, culture, education, beliefs, or personality. It seems that one of the major areas of concern would be that formation personnel have a good grasp of who they are.and who the other is. This will include a good psychological grasp of the stages of growth and development in adults as well as an understanding of the formation person's own personal growth and devel-opment. Granted, this is a lifelong process, and as individuals we are always limited in our ability to do this, there must be some indication that something of depth is in process for this director and her or his God. A few worthwhile questions for formation personnel might be: In what way am I oppressed? If a woman, do I recognize my oppression as a woman? If of a minority culture, do I identify xwho I am and embrace this difference? Am I threatened by not understanding my feelings and thus deny them, or am I open to the unfolding of myself and the other (see Mk 14:66-82)? Foi'mation directors, in addition .to being prayerful .and clear about who they are, will need to be friends who emPower the initiate (see Jn 21:5-17). Each initiate is in the same process as the.director--that is, pre-paring for loving service which is essentially unknown: "And somebody else will put a belt round you and take you where you would rather, not go" (Jn 21:18). To change and to accept who we are and who the other is, is a challenge because we really do not know the outcome. The results will be realized in a new fullness, in the mystery of death and resurrection. Cross-cultural vocations ~;ill need an environment which is, at one time, of their own familiar tradition find, at another time, of the tradition of the other. As Bishop Lyke stated: "W~ need to be with our own at one time and at another time, we need to be with the other."l Because there are no answers ~ind the process is rather a continued one, cross-cultural formation programs will need frequent evaluations and multiple opportunities. An environment which offers multicultural opportunities would be positive. If the initi~ite can actually experience his or her own culture in the parish or in a Specific Christian community while also experiencing the mixture of cultures within the community, distinctions could be made which would identify "yours, mine, and ours." "There is one Body, one Spirit, just as ybu were all called into one and the same hope when you were called" (Ep4:1-~5). Another area of particular importance is that of couhseling. A forma-tion and/or spiritual director must be very aware of differentiation. For example, the way one culture approaches authority, modesty, family life, and so forth, is different from the way another culture d6~s. If several cultures are involved, the formation director will need to be very sensitive to the nuances of languages and culture. The ideal would be that the~dii'ector~ Cross-Cultural Formation / 507 be bilingual and thus know moreconcretely the difficulties of understanding variations in meanings. We must always assume that, if two languages are being used, there is a language problem, This is also true of the differefit languages used.between the whites of Northern U.S.A, and the blacks of Southern U.S.A. Another language is involved. The challenge'is on both sides, not on one or the other. Both verbal and non-verbal messages and feelings need to be understood. The more sensitive person is often the more highly motivated person and the most open to new experiences, so a sensitive person is most helpful. Yet knowledge and experience in another culture tan increase sensitivity andthe ability to identify with another person, and motivate him/her toward further growth? Those directing formation will need to be able to live with the tensions between cultures and facilitate an integration into community. They will ~need to encourage personal identity with the person's culture and within the community. They will need to discern that which is a personality weakness, strength, cultural difference, and simple adjdstment to the for-mation culture and the community culture. Ehch person has a special charism. So, special parish or civic experiences will be important within the pari~h or~ civic community, ~With a variety of°cultures, special coimselors will be important. A black woman needs a bla~k counselor perhaps, or a special house of formation may be needed for the new Hislbanic candidates. Special prayer styles, studies, communications, liturgies, periodicals, and love will be necessary for-all hoping to live effectively in a cross-cultural community. Basic Theology : There is a basic theology which I would name, poetically, a theology of "Conversion and Conflict: ~. ontemplation and Creativity." A multi-culturMcontext implies the challenge of a.multiplici~y of ~,iewpoints which correspond with the differing experiences of people from diverse backgrounds and cultural traditions. A multi-cultural context suggests that no one group has a monopoly on truth. It further implies that.people from cultural and racial backgrounds other than our own are not merely "strange" or "different" or "inferior," but have a perspective of their own) Each person then is unique and important. No one person or culture is to remain isolated, Human beings or groups are always called to live in .tension. This tension can be both negative and positive. It is negative when it causes too much self-occupation or gelf-negation. It is positive when it calls the person to growth and conversion. Transcendent values take the individual to conversion. The human person possesses a character of abso- ¯ 508 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 luteness which transcends as well as~ constitutes the person. To live in a cross~ultural community, conflict and conversion are simultaneously necessary. Conversion is necessary because .it is a turning to the Lord, a turning ~to the truth within self, to the home within. It is a turning to the truth of the other. This truth is known through walking in some confusion and conflict to a new openness and finally to a solidarity. Within this process the human spirit releases its true spirit which is symbolic of a transcendent reality. The transcendent-reality to which I refer is that pro-cess of unfolding the~ true person within the transforming-converting power of the Lord Jesus. This is the individuation or humanizing process which creates new persons and/or new communities. Sacrament and Sacred Having spoken for an openness to constant conversion in ~he midst of differences and conflict, I now wish to speak of the need for a theology of the sacred.All is sacred. All is created by God. We as dependent creatures can interpret all as sacred or profane. In the life of every person the underlying plea is that we interpret the other as sacred. In community, too, the underlying plea is that we interpret the other as sacred. To treat another sacredly is to recognize sacrament. Jesus in his humanness is the primordial sacrament; this is, Jesus, first ¯ and foremost, announces God's loving kindness, compassion, recon.ciliation,¯ presence, otherness. Insofar as we are receptive to this presence in another, we are recognizing the other as sacrament. Our taking time to understand the uniqueness of the other in his or her culture and history is taking the time to know a new divine reality, a new sacrament, the sacred: Doing this will create a new community, a.cross-cultural community. It will mean I never take for granted that I know your history or even that I know my own. It does take for granted that I do not know but am learning daily. Formation directors of cross-cultt~ral communities, then, will be recon-cilers, knowing they have failed to love both locally and globally. ~They will be taken beyond today and beyond the United States. They will begin to see themselves as a minority who will be open to the majority. They will be men and women willing to create a "civilization of love." Cross-Cultural Formation For some years now, perhaps even centuries, there has been something of a debate about culture. Does it make a difference? We North Americans have had a sense of the "melting-pot" within our heritages. Today, in 1985, the "melting-pot" concept is basically unacceptable. Today we respect and honor the sacredness and uniqueness of each person, and further, of each Cross-Cultural Formation / 509 culture. As a people, we do not.ask one anothei" to be part of a melting-pot, we speak more appropriately of a "mosaic," that is, of a people who Choose to come together and are aware of their uniqueness and innate value systems. These people then identify their culture and acculturate on the basis of self and communal awareness. This is an informed decision and it is a decision which retains its own value system. The initiate, then, who chooses toj0in a community which has another cultural.orientation must be a person who knows his/her identity as differ-ent and cherishes that identity while knowingly entering into and accultur-ating to the community only insofar as her/his uniqueness and richness are not compromised. This, of course, will not be possible for many initiates. They will not have that security about their self-identity and thus will need more time or, more specifically, their own time. ,George DeVos states that the following areas will need to be addressed for the persons of multiple cultures coming together: I. Each culture raise~ questions regarding a differentiation between the culture and physical, or motor development; 2. There are issues related to the information-processing mecli-anisms in personality. That is, cognition, perception, and logical thought which carries with the culture; 3. The expressive components in human behavior related to the nature of symbolic thought in the person and its expres-sion through myths, dreams, ritual practices, ideologies, and other bodies of emotional and affective motivations vary within cultural traditions; 4. Empirical investigations find socialization patterns unique. Certain cultures collectively have prevalent child-rearing practices, role expectations, and specific values on the intel-lectual and emotional developments of their members; 5. The mode of change and its implications in cultures differ. Unless there is an asserted effort by social sciences to under-stand change in concert, each discipline and each culture will have partial answers; 6. There are issues~ related to the prob.lems of mental health. What is conformity in one culture .is deviance in another.4 ¯ Over the past four years, I have seen all six of these principles in action. I have 'ministered in two formation programs and the persons included in. the programs were black, white,~Hispanic, and Asian. Let me now address each area specifically. Physical and Motor Development .~ The most important cultural influences on physiological growth are, of 510/ Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 course, related to diet. Other cultural influences related to physiological growth are those of intense sensory stimulation. Included in this stimulation is the effect of such things as circumcision, piercing of the nose, ears, or lips, inoculations, shaping of the head, clothing, experiences of extreme heat and cold, or the .administration of internal stresses such as emetics, irritants, or enemas. When these kinds of things are found in a culture, theperson is found to be taller,.than those in a culture where there is no such stimulation. There are also noticeable differences between carnivorous and non-carni-vorous eaters, between smokers and non-smokers. Cultural pa.tterns tend to,be related~to ~the physiological, psychological, and spiritual patternings .of a.people~ ~ ' Information and Processing One's perception, cognition, and logical thought~change with the family environment, societal pressures, and global awarenesses. If a person is given an intelligence test which is standardized for the Anglo, a Chicano will likely fall short because of another environmental influence. It is of utmost importance that testing personnel or information seekers are com-petent in the minority or culture they are ministering to, If they are not of that culture, they must be very competent in cross-cultural questions. The examiner must establish a rapport with the examinee and'must be sensitive to cognitive differences. For example, people Who have been trained for years to be introverts will be less responsive to external stimtili and more responsive to values of an internal nature: Special training is required of the examiner for linguistically different learners. Testin~ and information seeking should ideally be donb in the t~stee's first language. Testing results require value jl]dgrnents and, therefore, cannot be '~all-or-nothing decisions." Other criteria must be used for cognitive, perceptive, and logical interpreta-tions. ~Using test score~s as the b~is for making a decision tha! will adversely affect an individual's,.education or occupational (vocational) future consti-tutes a clear abuse of the testing process."5 The problem of cultural bias in criteria must be one of primary focus for testing, employment, motivational evaluation, and cross-cultural growth. Human expression of inner attitudes will vary With gestures, folklore, verbal communication, and more. Without recognition of the differences in cognitive thought the "melting-pot" will continue. That is, witho.ut conscious" awareness of identifying the differences, it is possible to expect people tO blend into another's culture rather than maintain uniqueness. Expressive Components Each cultural tradition has different expressive components. These Cross-Cultural Formation / 511 components are noted, particularly in affective expressions. Dreams, too, are related to a culture and cannot be interpreted except within the cultural context of the dreamer. Family ties are frequently misinterpreted with differing cultures. The components of each culture are. complex and unex-plainable. They must be lived and listened to. An initiate, in order to be tinderstood, will need to be assertive enough to tell the myth of her/his family. The expression of this myth will include family affectivity, ritual; prayer life, food, clothes, games, and so forth. Socialization-Empirical Investigation Socialization patterns vary considerably, depending on the economic level of the "person. One of the young women in formation telling of her myth explained how important it was to the family to eat potatoes; this seemed very logical to the rest of us, the majority of whom came from rural farming areas. However, with further storytelling, the woman indicated that since the income of the family was .were in the form of potato chips in a so.me pop and hamburger. This family to buy a large sack of potatoes and a so minimal the potatoes purchased small package along with perhaps never had enough money on hand large piece of meat on sale. Their money came and went on a day-to-day basis. This econQmic situation formed the physiognomy of the family, its buying power, the habits of the family in terms of diet, and ability of the family to .budget. Another important socialization~ pattern is that of the roles assigne~ to various members of the family. One,child may~be assigned as the home-maker, another as outdoorswoman or man and another as the student. These roles are assigned within a culture, which then.doubles.the significance of the role for a young woman who comes to community and has never learned to cook because she was the ~utdoorswoman, or for the young man who never learned to cook while .in his home but now as a novice must cook fo~ the local community. When the.young man happens to be a Hispanic, the cultural shock is even greater. Men in the Hispanic culture are even more distanced from the kitchen than those in a white culture. Change .Concerning the' issues of change in society,- it is of paramount impor-tance that each culture understand the effects of cultural change on the adaptation and adjustment of individuals. For the individual considering two cultural changes, that of religious life and that of another cultui:al environment, chang~ will be more complex. The personality of the individ-ual will remain in spite of acculturation; and, in fact, it becomes exaggerated in its strengths and weaknesses. This alone can be very difficult for an 512 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 individual. Without much notice the anger they knew within themselves before seems to have twice its potential. The passivity an individual identi-fied previously now seems twice as passive, and so forth. Initiates must be counseled in these normal phenomena. There are variations of definitions from one culture to another. What is known to be bizarre in one culture is normal in another. Each ethnic group or person must. recognize the basic culture which belongs .exclusively to itself. The initiate must know her/his history and culture. It is not true that we come knowing our history. The initiate must also return to the culture of her/his past and reflect on that which is truly culture, that which is familiar only, and that.which is unique to be one with the "whole lot" while maintaining and sharing that which is uniquely hers/his. This requires a good deal ofself-possession and self-assertion. -. Mental Health ' '~' ThiS area bears little comment since it has been stated already that the mental health of an individual in one culture is very different from that 'of one in another culture. It is perfectly acg, eptable for North Americansto behave like "work~ihoiics" and then take off work for three days because of a cold. It is less acceptable for North Americans to be lazy than for them to be doing something behavioral which would prevent~ the cold. It is very acceptable for a black or Hispanic woman to miss work or a social gathering .because of her monthly cycle than it is for a North American to do so. The initiate, then; must be a person of deep faith, willing to move beyond self. The step beyond self is a step of faith. All persons involved in the cross-cultural formation l~rogram must be a transcendent people. To be a transcendent people is to be a people who believe in a God of surprises. The willihgness to gift one another with the space and place to be whb we are as well as~to become a new people, a transcendent people, is to be a people, who beli~ive ina new richness, a new community. NOTES ~Bishop James Lyke, O.EM., Assisi Lectures, February 1, 1982,.Berkeley, California. 2Paul P. Pedersen, Juris G. Draguns, Walter J. Lonner, and Joseph E. Trimble, Co,.u.nseling Across Cultures (Hawaii: University of Hawaii Press, 1981), p. 316.~ 3Archie Smith, Jr., Ph.D., "Pastoral Care in Multi-Cultural Contdxt," Guest Lecturei', Pacific School of Religion, February,, 1983, unpublished paper. 4George DeVos, "Problems and Research in Comparative Human Behavior;" Proceed-ings of the American Philosophical Society, Vol. 113, No; 5, October, 1968, ppl 351 ff. 5Joe L. Martinez, Jr., Chicano Psychology (New York: Academic Press, 19~77), p. 181~ Christian and Religious Obedience Brian O'Leary, S.J. Father O'Leary's earlier article, "Celibate Friendship," appear.ed in the issue of Janu-ary/ February, 1980. Father resides in Manresa House (Dollymount; Dublin'3; Ireland) where he is occupied in research and teaching courses in Jesuit spirituality and in the theology of religious life: O ui~ whole relationship"with God can be both e~perienced and under-stood ~n terms of obedience and "disobedience. Obedience is not just one virtue among other virtues. It is not part of a relationship, that is experienced in isolation, or that can be examined in isolation from the remainder of that relationship. It is an element ir~ every virtue, or if one prefers, it is the soil in which all other virtues take root and grow. This, of course, is taking obedience in its widest sense as cooperation with the will of God, bt~t this is also its most fundamental sense. There is an all-pervasiveness about obe-dience ~vhich reaches into every nook and cranny of our human existence. Obedience as Listening It is illuminating to reflect on the root meaning of the Latin word oboedire which means to listen. We are called to listen to God as he speaks, communicates, reveals himself in Scripture, in the teaching of the Church, in other people, in the signs of the times, in our consciences, in the stirrings of our hearts. Such listening can take myriad forms, from basic self-a~cep-tance, throughan eager following of one's special calling within the Christian community, to the final Amen in accepting the time and manner of one's death. Samuel's "Speak, Yahweh, your servant is listening" (1 S 3:10) is the basic,'lifelong attitude and prayer of the devout Christian. Since Christianity is a form of theism, its adherents are committed to a 513 514 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 belief in the self-revelation of a personal God. Consequently much emphasis is placed on the supernatural modes of God's speaking, such as inspired and inerrant Scriptures, and the life and teaching of Jesus himself! At various times in the past ~and in various different ways, God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets; but in our own time, the last days, he has spoken to us through his Son, the Son that he has appointed to inherit everything and through whom he made everything there is (Heb 1:'1-2). But we ought not to minimize the more ordinary, natural modes of God's speaking. God is the God of reality, and so every aspect of reality is a vehicle for his communication with us. Listening begins, therefore, with what is closest to us--our experience of ourselves. We listen to our bodies as they reveal their~ needs to us (e.g. for nourishment, rest, shelter). We listen to our affectivity with its constantly fluctuating attractions and revulsions. We listen to our souls yearning for ultimate meaning, for aesth~etic expe-rience, an'~ for everitual immortality. To fail to listen to ourselves is to fail to listen to God. As we move outwards from our own psyches there awaits us the invitation to listen to others. Men and women in their very humanity, in their interpersonal relationships and as constitutive of society, are mediators of God and his lording pla, n for us. We are called to listen, n~ot just.to the words people use, but to the experiences,~the Vulnerability, the fragility, the mute i0ngings ~that lie behind the words. This mode"of attentive, empathetic listening, this contemplative attitude towards people, involves encountering the other as other find not as a mere projection of ourselves and our o.wn concerns. As the other speaks, so God communicates, whether we are meeting~ttlat other'as individual or as societal, o~ Obedience as Faith ' The all-pervasive, all-embracing quality of obedience is also underlined in Paul's phrase, "the obedienc~ of faith." ~ Through him [Christ] we received grace and our apostolic mission to preach the obedience of faith to all pagan nations in honor of his name (Rm 1:5). .Glory to him who is able to give you the strength tO liv~ according to the Good News I preach, a~nd in which I proclaim Jesus Christ, the revelation of a mystery kept secret for endless ages, but now so clear that it must be broadcast to .pagans everywhere to bring them to the obedience of faith (Rm 16:25-26). ere obedience is clearly not a particular moral virtue, but that total human response to the Good News. which is proclaimed in the apostolic preaching. Paul's mission is to bring people to this surrender in faith to Christian and Religious Obedience / 515 God. This surrender is not forced; it may be refused. It is a free acceptance of, and response to the Word. This is the radical experience of metanoia for which Paul's own conversion on the road to Damascus could ser~e as a paradigm. Ultimately, for Paul faith is obedience and "obedience is faith, while unbelief is disobedience and .disobedience is unbelief. In the Old Testament Abraham exemplifies this faith-obedience both in his response to God's call (Gn 12:1-5) and in his willingness to sacrifice his son, Isaac (Gn 22:1-18). In the latter story Abraham is asked to take and offer as a holocaust not only "your son, your only child Isaac, whom you love" (which would be a natural and personal tragedy), the one person through whom the promises of Yahweh were to be fulfilled for the Chosen People (which would be a spiritual ~and national tragedy). The.key to the biblical writer's interpretation of this complex story is found in the words: All the nations of the earth shall bless themselves by your descendents, as a reward for your obedience (v. 18). But the primary model of Christian Obedience is that of the adult man Jesus to his Father. Time and again, in St. John's gospel particularly, wd see the deep fascination which the Father exercised on the human sensibility of Jesus. Much light is thrown on what it meant for Jesus tO be°Son, and how his personal se~nse of identity came from his experience of filial'~relationship. His mission appears, not so much as something entrusted to him from outside, but a~s intrinsic to who he is. "To be Son" is "to be ~ent'~ is "to be on mission." My food is to do the will of the one who sent me, and to complete his work (Jn 4:34): 1 can do noticing by myself; I can only j6dge as I am told to judge, and my-judging is just, because my aim is to do not my own will but the will of him who sent me (Jn 5:30). When you have lifted up the Son of Man, then you will know that I am he and that I do nothing of myself: what the Father' h~ taught me is what I preach; lie who sent me is with me and has not left me to myself, for I always do what pleases him (Jn 8:28-29). The world must be brought to know that I love the Father and that I am doing exactly what the Father told me (Jn 14:3 l). The cumulative effect of such textspowerfully communicates the obe-diential attitude of Jesus into which the Father wishes to draw all Christians. Obedience within the Church The Father sent his Son to carry out a saving mission which culminated in the Paschal Mystery, the death and resurrection ,of Jesus. The Father 516/ Review for Religious,, July-August, 1985 and the Son sent the Holy Spirit to carry out a sanctifying mission which inaugurated the community of the New Israel at Pentecost the commu-nity that is Church. Through baptism each person who is initiated into the Church is at the same time inserted into this two-pronged saving/sanctifying mission. Every Christian is not only saved and sanctified but called to share in the saving and sanctifying of others, to be sent into the world as'was the Spirit-filled Jesus. But the primary subject of this sending or mission is not the individual but the community or Church itself. It is by being in com-munion with the Church that the individual receives his/her mission which has its ultimate source ("author") in the Father. Hence the need for authority. Without authority and the means to exercise that authority the Church could not maintain itself in,unity nor fulfill its mission to the world. Since .the Church .is of divine institution and part of God's plan for humanity, the only aut.hority which can legitimately exist in it is God's autho.rity. When we reflect on Scripture we see how God reveals himself, communicates his mes.sage, and exercises his authority through intermediaries or mediators. Moses mediated the Old Covenant to Israel in the Old Testament, while Jesus in his hum~inity mediated the New Covenant in New Testament times. Now the risen Christ through his Spirit shares this mediated authority with th.e Church as a whole and with its duly-constituted leaders. Ho~v such authority is exercised need not concern us here; enough to recognize that it exists and that it is coextensive with the needs of the community for its internal well-being and its saving/sanctifying mission. Much can be learned from the final logion in St. Matthew's gospel: All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go, therefore, make disciples of all the nations; baptize them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teach them to observe all the commands I gave you. And know that I am with you always; yes, to the end of time (Mt 28:18-20). Christ's presence thrrugfi the ages guarantees the reality of the lifeline linking the Church with the source, the author, of all authority God the Father. Religious Obedience There is a parallel, although not an identity, between the authority which exists in the community that is Church,and that which exists in the community that is a religious institute. In both, the ultimate source of authority is God; in both, that authority is mediated; in both, an obediential response is required. Such authority within a religious institute is recognized in faith by a person making a vow of obedience, and then responded to existentially through the daily living out of that vow. Although~both the Christian and Religious Obedience / 517 authority and the obedience are mediated, the vow itself can only be made to God, More precisely, it is made to the Father. As with Christian obedience in general, of which religious obedience is a particular expression, our response-pattern as religious is that of Jesus who "emptied himself to assume the condition of a slave" (Ph 2:7), yet knowing that he is the Beloved Son of the Fatfier. Furthermore the religious state constitutes a closer imitation and an abiding ¯ reenactment in the Church of the form Of life which the Son of God made his own when he came into the world to dothe will of the Father (Lumen Gentium, 44). A question, however, can be raised about the legitimacy of my (or any Christian's) making a vow of obedience in a particular institute. There is a presupposition that the' will of God fbr m~ is to be found with more certainty and clarity in the context of this specific group of people. Both logically and chronologically, before the vow, and necessarily underpin-ning it, is :an act of faith. How can such an act of faith be justified'?. The answer is twofold, Subjectively, there is my own inner experience of call which is leadihg me, not into marriage, nor into the single lay state, nor into some other religious institute, but into this concrete grouping of likeminded and vowed Christians. It is presumed that this subjective experience has been prayer-fully and realistically discerned with the aid of competent spiritual direction. Objectively, there is the guarante6 of the Church which, in approving this institute, has recognized it as a milieu in which the Holy Spirit is present and acti~,e. When the institute in its turn decides to accept me as a member, I can be sure that the Holy Spirit will speak to me in the context, and through the authority structures, of thisgrouping. Within such an institute ongoing discernment isopossible, and such discernment brings together harmoniously the interdependent realities of authority and obedience. The vow implies that never again~do I discern anything merely asan individual. Religious obedience is primarily the attitude of the whole institute seeking the will of God through living out the impliEations of its charism in the contemporary 'world. At any particular time this communal attitude may be more or less faith-ful, and so more or less obediential, more or less Christlike. (A barometer, in psychological terms, is often that of'morale.) The individual member, in turn, may be more or less in ha~rmony with this communal attitude. If I have a strong sense of belonging, then I will actively and enthusiastically participate in the institute's communal search for God's will, striving together towards viable and relevant apostolic choices. On the other hand, if I feel alienated from the institute, living on its fringes, I will tend to opt out of the communal search. I will become 518 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 passive in regard to discernment and forward planning, at best adopting a privatized approach to obedience~doing what I am told, perhaps, but otherwise abandoning my responsibility to play an active role in the dis-cerning and decision-making process within the institute.,~This is a form of disobedience and a failure in faith. Four Aspects of Obedience , ~ Christian and religious obedience involves the whole person and calls for a radical stance which can only originate at the core of a person's being. If that cbre has not been touched, obedience remains superficial if not inauthentic. Because of its all-pervasive nature, obedience is multi-faceted and needs to be examined from different points of view if its reality is not to be distorted. With religious obedience especially in mind we~ will now raise up four of these aspects or dimensions. Ascetical The human person is not obedient by nature. There is both a positive and a negative reason for this. Positively, autonomy or self-rule is the mark of the mature pets.on. The journey from childhood to adulthood is in large part a growth in desire for, capacity for, and exercise of autonomy. But since .a per.son lives in a human community, this autonomy has to be balanced by the demands of interpersonal,, social and political realities. Accepting the need for such balance, and integrating the corresponding limitations of one's autonomy, are also parts of the maturation process. All of this already presupposes an ongoing asceticism. Limitations imposed on one's autonomy by external factors and forces invariably pro-voke resistance, anger, pain and yet eventually they have to be rdcognized as inevitable. This process of growth is sometimes presented as moving through the stages of dependence, independeiice, and interdependence. This iast is the mark~of the mature, socially-integrated adult: an autonomy which recognizes the corresponding autonomy and rights of others. Negatively, there are the realities of sin and disorder. The healthy drive towards autonomy is seduced and vitiated by an unhealthy drive towards egoism and pride. While human autonomy can never b~ absolute, yet we are constat~tly beguiled by Satan's promise: "You will be like gods" (Gn 3:5). It is surely significant that the sin of Adam (ht~mankind) is presented in Scripture as disobedience arising from an overweening desire for autono-my the auionomy of God himself. Against this background the ascetical aspect of religious obedience becomes clearer. Obedience is a human virtue, an attitudinal habit which must be learned through its exercise. The aim is never to break a person's Christian and Religious Obedience / 519 will, but to lead the religious to a genuine inner freedom which will prevent manipulation either by outside pressures or by disorders within the-self. Such freedom will express itself not only in docility and availability, but also in creativity and initiative. Mystical. . This second aspects.of obedience consists in that contemplative gaze towards Christ which enables one to discover him in the interplay between authority and obedience. Given this contemplative attitude a religious actualizes an increasingly intimate union with Christ in two ways. Firstly, the person recognizes in the authority of the superior the authori.ty of Christ, and in the person of the superior the person of Christ. Secondly, othe religious enters into and continually enfleshes, the obediential attitude of Christ himself. The Risen Lord does not hand over, as it were, our obedience t6 the Father as something extrinsic to himself. Rather, since we died and rose again with him in baptism, our obedience is part of his obedience, a prolongation of it in today's ~vorld, just as our prayer is part of his-prayer and is offered to the Father as the prayer of the Whole Christ: the Body-~- head and members. Religious obedience, therefore, is both obedience to Christ present in the superior, and a sharing in the obedience of Christ as he responds filially and radically to his and our Father. He was humble and walked, the path of obedience all the way to death his death on the cross (Ph 2:8). Our obedience and that of Christ are co-terminous. They both lead to Calvary. Obedience, therefore, can be compared with martyrdom, as indeed it has been in the tradition. Martyrdom haaS, either be that total, instan-taneous and violent handing over of ourselves to God through other-in-flicted d~hth, or the piecemeal, gradual, daily handing over of ourselv~es to God through the self-inflicted consequences of the vow of religious obedience. The latter is experienced as continued self-emptying which builds'up to that final and inevitable self-emptying of our natural death when we shall hopefully say with utter freedom and love, "Father, into your hands 1 commit my spirit" (Lk 23:46). Apostolic ¯ Insofar as religious obedience is a union with the obediential will of Christ, so far is it also a union with the salvific will of the Father who "wants everyone to be saved and reach full knowledge of the truth" (1 Tm 2:4). As such, along with every other expression of Christian obedience, it is truly apostolic. Nevertheless, in specifically apostolic institutes the link between obedience and apostolate is much more explicit and direct. Here obedience is primarily in function of mission, a spiritual tool of mission. ~90 ] R~view for Religious, July-August, 1983 The reality of, authoi-ity-obedience is thee channel through which mission, ¯ which originates with the Father, is mediated to the institute and to the individual members. Since mission is constittitive of the basic charism of - such institutes, and is not an optional or subsidiary dimension, obedience as apostolic.has an enormous importance and centrality. Under this heading comes the whole area bf apostolic discernment, both personal and communal. Apostolic choiceS---the selection of ministries and plans for running and evaluating them--become a major issue. A deep level of trust and openness between the members of the institute, and especially in relations with superiors, is necessary. Underpinning this, a spirit.uality which closely integrates contemplation and action is required. Authority calls 'forth and harnesses the good will, talents and energies of all, directing them with zeal and in the spirit of the institute, towards mission. In ,such an atmosphere of faith and serious purpose one dare not trivialize obedience, for example, by seeing it merely in terms of discipline, good order, or even of asceticism. If mature adult obedience does not flourish, neither does the charism of the ir~stitute, and neither does the. mission which is that of the contemporary Christ. Unitive Obedience leads to a union of minds and hearts. However, this is true only when its ascetical demands have been accepted, its mystical dimension has been experienced, and its apostolic thrust has become a powerful dynamic in one's own life and that of one's fellow:religious. This unitive aspect emerges almost spontaneously as the result of religious obedien~ which i~ lix;ed authentically and faithfully. It is not the direct purpos.e of obedience, but rather a side effect which can be gratefully recognized and received as part of the hundredfold promised by Christ to those who have left all for his sake. Vowed Celibacy and Human Sexuality M. Keith, 0 S. E Sister Keith works at the Parish Center of St. Alphonsus Church; 154 Church Street; Deet'~eld, MI 49238, where she may be addressed. There is no doubt that the mentors of our society today, probably at no time more so in history, have placed a great deal of emphasis on complete sexual fulfillment as the answer to everything. Heavy demands are placed on people for self-fulfillment via genital satisfaction. New patterns of sexual manners and morals aris'e constantly. This stress on genital intimacy makes it even more difficult to ignore. Media blitzes, which overtly and covertly proffer a barrage of sexual invitations to genital intimacy to the whole of society, at times overwhelm people. It can be said then, without a doubt, that our culture's emphasis on genital sex dbes provide at least subliminal seduction to all. Therefore, in this age, with its stress on genital intimacy for self-fulfill-ment, celibacy seems an impossible contradiction to the expectations for life which most people hold as a value. Lifelong celibacy, deliberately and freely chosen in the face of one of the most sex,oriented of societies, seems like the ultimate madness. To choose celibacy is a challenge to the cultural idols of hedonism and consumerism. Not only does our culture attack the value of celibacy, western attitudes also undermine even the previous supports that once were available for the~celibate lifestyle. In fact, in some ways, ours is the most discouraging culture possible for a celibate option. Celibac~y today demands the courage of a totally countercultural stance. Today it is much harder to avoid coming to grips with sexuality than it used to be. We are more aware how much sexuality pervades a person's 521 522 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 entire life situation. One's sexuality is seen to extend to every level of being: bodily, emotional, intellectual and volitional. More specifically, human sexuality is a powerful stimulus to move toward others and away from self-centeredness. Human sexuality thus helps attenuate ego-centrism, which dehumanizes both self and others. "Genital sexuality," of course, refers to acts, thoughts, fantasies, desires and feelings which involve or promote direct genital behavior. It is in this sense that today's society holds to the .notion that humanity is impossible without full gratification of the sex drive. Such, however, is not a universal truth. It is the purpose of this paper to show that a vowed celibate is and can become a fully integrated, psycho-sexually mature being without genital sex. Human sexuality is a basic ontological determinant of who we are as persons, and personal i~dentity is.a prerequisite for sexual maturity/identity. This personal identity is, in significant ways, worked out within images of sexual identity and sexual complementarity. Such is fully attained only in the arena of human relationships. Psychological. research shows that the incidence of sexual difficulties and immaturity is neither greater nor less among celibates than among non-celibates. Psychologist Abraham Maslow (1954) pointed out that it is not sexual abstinence as such that is pathogenic, but .the feelings or motiva-tions accompanying it. It is now well known that many cases are found in which celibacy has no pathological effects. Clinical work with non-neurotic people gix;es clear answer that sexual deprivation becomes pathogenic in the severe sense only when it is felt by the individual to represent'irejection by the opposite sex, inferiority, lack of.worth, lack of respect, isolation, or thwarting of basic needs. Sexual deprivation can be borne with some relative ease by individuals for whom it has no such implications. Religious celibates in no way deny or wish to reject their sexuality. In fact their understanding of their celibacy and of their sexuality matures as they advance in age and experience. Becoming an enlightened and respon-sible sexual being is always a lifelong challenge, This challenge involves, among other things, the development of psychosexual maturity. ,And the goal of psychosexual maturity is not orgasm; it is the capacity to love. In the celibate, this maturity is evidenced in the fuller development and harmonious interplay of the individual's psychological and sexual capacities within an ordered value system. Dr. Menninger has stated that "Insofar as choice determines behavior, it stems from some consideration of values." Psychosexual development in the celibate quite evidently cannot be iso-lated from choice and values. There is no realistic way of doing so. Vowed Celibacy and Human Sexuaflty / 523 In choosing celibacy, then, what is at issue is not a negation of any human good or value. It is rather a relativizing of priorities in fife. In choosing a celibate lifestyle, it is a tribute to the values in life that one chooses to celebrate. Celibacy lived means to the individual that: 1) the development of full humanity is more important than genital sexual expression; 2) that true generativity is greater than sexual potency; 3)that self-transcendence is more fully human than self-fulfillment. Psychosexual maturity is not static; it is a dynamic, ongoing process. Whether'a person becomes a celibate or marries, the same maturity, accep-tance of self as a sexual being and the ability to live with impulses and integrate them into the self, is a requirement to achieve full humanity. The bald fact of not being married, of not being involved in a sexual relationship does not constitute the celibate life. To be a vowed celibate means to be empty for God, to be free and open for his presence in many people and to be available for his service. In the past, perhaps, it was not uncommon for some religious and laity to think of celibacy as a state of being asexu~il. In fact, though, vowed celibacy is not an asexual state, even though it precludes full genital inti-macy. Taking vows does not snuff out personality. To say that a vowed celibate drops out of the sexual rivalry game doesn't suggest that the person is no longer a sexual being. It is normal to have sexual feelings. ~ Modern modes of expression would say that the celibate is still fully a sexual being, but without actual genital expression. As stated above, becoming an enlightened and responsible sexual being is a lifelong process; and the celibate, like all other humans, must redirect the tendency to regress into becoming selfish.Celibates need to realize that sexual abstinence does~not automatically confer the capacity to love people in general any more than incontinence in marriage increases the love for anyone. As a matter of fact, though, one difference in the celibate lifestyle is that it does move toward a more freeing love than do other lifestyles. The heart of vowed celibacy is rather.a special, unique and total conse-cration to Christ. The true celibate is effectively head over heels in love with God?' Vowed celibacy is a commitment to love Christ. This is achieved by a genuinely mystical form of life. Without some graspof mystical vision, the celibate is unlikely to remain celibate for long, The depth, and quality of personal prayer manifests itself in the depth and quality of vowed celibacy. Without vision, there is risk of psychic damage. Ignace Lepp (1963) states that ". the libido cannot be channeled in a different direction without injury to sexuality, unless it finds itself entirely consumed in the service of a higher psychic activity." This sublimation means to redirect the sexual drive. It does not mean 524 / Review for Religious, July-August; 1985 to pretend that the sex drive doesn't exist, or to forget it, or to set it aside. Sublimation channels the sexual impulse; it does not stamp it out., But in attempting sublimation, the person must be free and sufficiently motivated by life-ideals which can actually utilize these sublimated energies. The vowed celibate life, attempted without convictions and some form of mysticism, is an attempt at sexual suicide and self-destruction. If lived without an internal conviction, the response will be the simple negation of all the good of life and love and humanity in the individual. One's vowed "celibacy cannot be a complete withdrawal of all involvement in human sexuality; such a step would be the denial of humanity. Rather, consecrated celibacy must become a positive affirmation of beauty and strength. The vow of celibacy, lived with faithfulness, speaks out. against the negative aspects and excesses of the sexual revolution of our time. It contradicts the contemporary attitudes where infidelity and failure to keep commitments is an accepted way of life. Celibacy makes a positive contribution to life since Christian celibacy is an explicit affirmation that a person is aperson first and not second to his or her sex function. It provides a deeper insight into the sexuality of persons themselves. Vowed celibates are seen as total persons, not as individuals dichotomized into body/spirit. Authentic celibacy, then, is an enfleshed experience. Celibacy cannot be understood in isolation. It is experienced in a heterosexual society. It is a growing life experience in and with Christ. This means growing in love with Christ and growing in prayer with Christ. The effects of this lead celibates to a growth and deepening in their love for all people, especially for all those with whom they come into contact. Their response will grow, become actualized and manifest itself in time. And like all love, it defies description. Mature love does not come easy; it is always a growth process. For the b, elibate, this entails a process of growing as a sexual being. It is a continual becoming of the person the celibate is called to be through and. with Christ. Thus celibacy is a call to wholeness and holiness that involves patience, discipline and care. Far from lessening our need of the experience of love, celibacy offers a greater freedom in loving--a freedom to love, at times, without hope .of returned love, and to love the unlovable. This form of unselfish love witnesses to the compassion and mutual respect which are integral to justice, and moral rightness. Celibates live fundamentally indePendent lives; lives not directed to the well-being of.the single destiny for two that is common to. marriage, but directed by the demands of Christ and the Church. Religious celibacy is for loving and living. Vowed Celibacy and Human Sexuaflty / 525 Celibate love is primarily universal in character. It is a call to be con-stantly open to authentic relationships, to befriend any person met with a non-demanding love. It thus is a challenge to celibates to become the persons they are meant to be, to maximize their love and self-giftedness to others. The challenges and rewards of celibacy are the challenges and rewards of love itself. The celibate experience, in sum, is a way of making love, something everyone must do, and, like all lovemaking, it defies close scrutiny. Like all lovemaking, it is a relational exiaerience beyond words. Another great value of the celibate experience is that of availability. ¯ The vowed celibate belongs to no one person, hence to all persons. There is risk to this. Depending on how it is lived, cdibacy can either render the individual sterile or productive. Unless there is a giving away of self, celibacy is supreme sterility. Lived positively, selflessly, celibacy can be distinctively and consciously creative. These creative powers can be termed "generativity. ~ ¯ Generativity is the ability to give, nurture, and sustain life. Erikson states that: ". to know that adulthood is generative does not necessarily mean one must produce children. But it means to know what one does if one does not produce children." In Erikson's eight stages of the development of the person, generativity characteristics of adult life are met even in institutions committed to celibacy. Celibates believe that they will attain a sense of.generativity through loving relationships with people, thus creating life: The celibates'.self-abun-dance and vitality and life-giving existence will be evidenced by their presence and participation in the world. Specifically, the generativity found in vowed celibacy is a commitment to a care and concern that is universal; to a love that is life-giving and without limit. Although there is total and° exclusive intimacy between the vowed celibate and Christ, this does not exclude other relationships. In~ fact inti-macy with Christ depends on other relationships to make it possible. Friendship and support are necessary to the celibate, as is deep prayer and honesty before Christ. Religious celibacy has everything to do with inter-personal relationships. The celibate is a person firmly ~planted on earth for relating to others. Indeed, to be human is to be relational. And, of course, the psychosexually mature celibate loves individuals, not abstract humanity. Today there is a great emphasis on the forming of authentic friendships among both men and women religious. Research has shown that good psychosexual development involves and demands relationships with a vari-ety of people. Drs. Conrad Baars and Anna Terruwe, who have integrated psychiatry with their faith, note that masculine/feminine relationships, as well as same sex friendships, help to develop a wholesome emotional.life. 526 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 ~. There can be no genuine happiness without friendships. Friendships, however, are not easily acquired. They demand work, time and cultivation. Human relations are never finalized, Celibacy also requires the development ofa capacity for deep and lasting relationships. Friendship in th~ lives of religious celibates takes many forms, As one moves across the spectrum from a.cquaintance to friendship, however, the reality of celibacy becomes more pertinent. The love of authentic friendship is not easy, and there are those hurts and disappointments which are part of the "human condition" (Sr. Marie Dugas, S.S.A. 1983)~ But the benefits of friendship help make life worthwhile. Jesus is the model for celibates. He loved all people. He also had several disciples and social friends~ These friendships also developed through hurts, misunderstandings and disappointments. The love experienced in celibate friendship is that of the giving and receiving of love. This experience introduces one into a new understanding of life and one's relation to life. It allows one to rid oneself of the unneeded, counterproductive defenses which hinder growth and integration. It allows one tO be touched by the power beyond the self. Research has shown that true growth and healing take place only in a relationship characterized by love. Celibates, then, should have close friends. The development of friendships in the celibate lifestyle is critical to inter-nal/ external integration which if properly pursued will result in an ade-quately mature personality. Sexual urges will not put the celibate value system and behaviors out of sync in genuine friendship. The celibate friendship is less a response to physical attractiveness and more of a caring for what is good in theperson. The celibate friendship is an attentiveness to the other in a flexible manner rather than in a fixation. Mutual love cannot mean mutual possession. Celibates ~are united in friendship only by the bond of their free will, a bond that is not indissoluble as is that of marriage. And celibate friendships normally do not simply happen. There is ever present the element of choice involved in who twill be admitted, and to what degree of intimacy he or she will be admitted, AlL people, not only celibates, fill their heed for intimacy through. friendships. Intimacy in human living is important for personal growth, self-esteem and for a feeling that life is worthwhile. The more we live in :a mass society, the more importaiat are intimate relationships to maintain our individuality and identity. For Abraham Maslow, in the self-actualiz-ing person, the higher need is for intimacy. If this need is satisfied, the need for genitaljty is lessened Vowed Celibacy and Human Sexuafity / 527 Intimacy can be defined as unfeared self-abandonment, an unfeared self-disclosure and a dissolving of ego boundaries. In intimacy, one gives up control of what is seen by the other. It involves the sharing of one's real identity with others. Eric Berne (1974) calls intimacy a "game free" relationship. Healthy interpersonal living always involves both distance and intimacy. A celibate person striving for universal love must realize that this does not mean universal intimacy. Intimacy requires disciplined living. Besides being grounded in one's own vocation, the celibate must affirm and desire the growth of the other. This non-possessive, non-exclusive love also encourages the growth of the other's relationships with people. The celibate is pleased when the other develops new, outside relationships and interests, knowing that they are the sources of life and growth. The celibate knows that it is important that people never stop growing in love. One definition put it this way, "A friend is one who knows you as you are, understands where you've been, accepts who you've become and still gently invites you to grow" (Sr. Marie Dugas, S.S.A. 1983). This is the heart of intimacy for the celibate lover. If the intimate relationship is healthy, life-giving and creative, it will enhance the quality of the celibate's prayer life, of other relationships and the general well-being itself of the celibate. Vowed celibacy is a viable lifestyle. Although the way of celibacy suits relatively few persons, it is in itself, and for those persons a "normal" way to be, a viable way to meet life and create it. Celibacy means distinguishing between needs and wants. It is a meaningful lifestyle. This life entails an act of radical rejection of some values ih the culture that easily become idola-trous. Celibacy is much more than a set of sexual mores; it is an extension of Christian virtue. It is an act of affirmation about certain human and gospel values that easily become submerged in the culture~ The celibate lifestyle is thus prophetic in its witness. The celibate life lived in the Spirit of Christ can be a very profound and rewarding way of life, The celibate, by foregoing the type of mutuality found in marriage, is saying that no 'human efforts or human projects can ever achieve the full destiny possibl6 for humanity. The celibate is, saying that our full destiny is achievable, not by our own power, but through the power of Jesus Christ. Celibacy joyfully lived, presents an alternate vision. This lifestyle proclaims that the end of life is intimacy with God and others. Joyfully lived, this lifestyle points to what must ultimately be the end of any lifestyle, love of God and others for the "sake of the kingdom." Far from being quixotic, celibacy simply is one way that some men and women find it in their heart to be worth following, a way to be fully alive in this world. The Clown on the Cross Margaret Halaska, 0 S. F. Sister Halaska's previous article in these pages was "A Model of Discernment: The Experience of a Franciscan,' (March/April, 1984). As with that earlier article, the present one also offers a reflection based on a personal experience. Sister Halaska may be addressed at Holy Family Convent; Box 6; Bayfield, WI 54814. I It was a Day of P~rayer for me. I unlocked the door of the house where I was staying that day and walked in. A cross with the clown on it was standing on the living room floor, leaning against a table. The figure caught me off guard, and for a brief moment I was caught in the paralysis of.surprise. But its presence was an invitation.which I could not resist. In a short time I was sitting on the floor directly opposite the strange appari-tion. It intrigued me. A soft clown-figure in place ofothe usual corpus of/ hardened plaster., a clown that was warm and gentle even to the eyes . a clown whose puffy cheeks you could squeeze, creating temporary dimples ¯. a clown whose face reflected pain and peace all at once., a clown who was held to the cross partly by an outsized crown of thorns, one of which pierced his clown-hat and held him fast to the wood. During the course Of the day, I prayed long and often befOre the Clown on the Cross. I didn't say much. I tried to listen. The Clown was silent. I was silent. But the silence was not sterile. Eventually, in an explicable way, the Clownflrew me to himself. Suddenly, | wanted to hug him. It was the moment of prayer. The desire became stronger but I became aware that the Clown was too little and I was too big. And that, too, was prayer. I moved closer to the Clown, touching his face and probing his hands and feet. I felt, not the rigor of death, but the softness of Life. In a new and very powerful way the Paradox of the Cross was again speaking to me: One must die to live. 528 The Clown on the Cross / 529 One exceptionally long thorn pinned the clown-figure to the cross. Needle sharp, piercing, it hooked the hat. I found myself feeling a 'slight sense of relief that it was only the hat! At the same time, it appeared that the thorn was what secured the C!own to the Wood, leaving his arms a little more free .than those of the more conventional plaster casts which are nailed tightly. Somehow those arms

Issue 40.1 of the Review for Religious, January 1981. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every Iwo months, is ediled in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are Iocaled at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1981 by REWEW FOR RELiGiOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at SI. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A.: $9.00 a year; $17.00 for two years. Other countries: $10.00 a year; $19.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write: Rt:vt~:w t'oR Rt:Lt(;tOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. .~eremiah L. Alberg, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor January, 1981 Volume 40 Number 1 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW t'ott RELIGIOUS; 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 Universily; City Avenue at 54th St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW t'OR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis, MO 63108. ++Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from Universily Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Review for Religious Volume 40, 1981 Editorial Offices 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428 Saint Louis, Missouri 63108 Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Jeremiah L. Alberg, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Miss Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is published in January, March, May, July, Sep-tember, and November on the fifteenth of the month. It is indexed in the Catholic Periodical and Literature Index and in Book Review Index. A microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is available from University Microfilms International; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Copyright © 1981 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOtJS. Toward a Method for the Study of Spirituality Edward Kinerk, S.J. Father Kinerk is presently on sabbatical leave, doing post-doctoral studies in spirituality at St. Louis University. He resides at Jesuit Hall; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108, A former professor of historical theology once described spirituality as a "gl0b" area. He explained this rather inelegant label by pointing out that spirituality enjoys an unlimited wealth of resources but possesses no tools for getting those resources organized. "I understand what it means to do history orto do theology," he objected, "but what does it mean to do spirituality?" StUdents contemplating work in spirituality will take small comfort in his remarks but they will know exactly what he meant, for, unlike most other academic disciplines, spirituality lacks both formal definition of its content and methodology proper to itself. Studies in the history of spirituality, prayer, religious life, Scripture, psychology, theology, and any number of authors and movements can be most beneficial in themselves, but where does one find the unifying principles to bring all this knowledge together? The occasional reader, who finds this or that work personally rewarding, will not be troubled by such abstract concerns,but this vagueness of content and style can be ~a formidable handicap for those who undertake a more thorough study, either for their own enlightenment or with the thought of being of service to others. In .the latter case one must analyze spiritualities, interpret them in their historical-cultural context, compare and contrast them to other spiritualities, and finally develop criteria for criticism and evaluation. The tools for such reflection are not commonly available in the way that they are for other disciplines, including theology.' Part of the difficulty lies in the very nature of spirituality. Except for the 3 4 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 Christological controversies of the fourth and fifth centuries it has been rare for theological speculation to elicit passionate responses on the part of Chris-tians, Spirituality, on the other hand, always makes at least an implicit appeal to the heart; it is much closer to people's lives and emotions than is theology. This is to be expected, but it places the "academic" study of spirituality in an awkward corner precisely because the material lends itself so immediately to practical application, the pastoral. Consequently, spirituality as a discipline finds itself more often called upon to train spiritual directors and retreat-givers than to engage in reflection. This onesidedness is risky. Spirituality can-not afford to neglect the mistakes or the riches which are a part of its heritage; nor can it forego with impunity the arduous task of using the theoretical pro-cess to correct the subtle mistakes of common sense.~ In a recent article for REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, Father Alan Jones chronicled the split between devotion and theology--head and heart--and called for the redevelopment of mystical theology in order to "combat the tendency to anti-intellectualism today, particularly in areas where religious experience is concerned.-3 Using William Johnston's definition of mysticism as "wisdom or knowledge that is found through love,'" Father Jones sug-gested contemplation--which includes all levels of knowing--as the means of bringing reflection into religious experience and religious experience into theological reflection. Father Jones's concern to bring head and heart together must be a con-stant preoccupation for spirituality; the great classics were developed more in the chapel than in the library, though they depended on both. However, I believe that we have an auxiliary task which is less "creative" and more "organizational" in character. In order to bring the vast and often unwieldy material from the history of spirituality into the arena of our prayerful reflec-tion it must first be arranged into digestible form. The purpose of this article will be to suggest some questions or distinctions by which such arrangement can proceed: in other words, a method for the study of spiritualities. Of course, this is an ambitious undertaking, and 1 will protest in advance that ' Theologians may protest that method is a problem for them, too, but at least work is being done. Recently David Tracy has suggested five basic models which have influenced theologica~ inquiry: orthodox, liberal, neo-orthodox, radical, and his own "revisionist" model. See David Tracy, Blessed Rage for Order (Seabury, 1975), pages 22-34. Tracy has been influenced in part:through. his long association with the thought of Bernard Lonergan. In a very important work, Method in Theology (Seabury, 1979; first published: Herder & Herder, 1972), Lonergan ~ipplied his transcendental method to the task of developing a method in theology. 1 will cite Lonergan only briefly in the course of this article, but 1 need to acknowledge that the influence of Method has been considerable. 2 For an explanation of the relationship of the realm of common sense and the realm of theory, see Lonergan, Method, pp. 257-258. ' Alan Jones, "Spirituality and Theology," Rt~vm'w ~oR R~.l.~G~Ot~s 39 (1980), p. 171. ' William Johnston, The Inner Eye of Love (Harper & Row, 1978), p. 20. Jones cites this on p. 170 of his article. Study of Spirituality / 5 these are remarks "toward a method." But since the need is great, I hope that .any venture in this direction might prove useful. Spirituality needs (1) a definition of itself, (2) some tools for analyzing a particular spirituality, (3) some guidelines for relating a spirituality to other spiritualities, and (4) some criteria for evaluation. In the pages that follow I will make attempts in the first three areas and then conclude with some limited thoughts about the fourth. What Is Spirituality? Everyone has a notion of spirituality, but efforts to pin it down in defini-tion can, be frustrating. It is everywhere yet nowhere; its scope is so vast-- potentially as vast as the sum and depth of all human experience--that workable content virtually disappears. Spirituality has been described as "life-style." If we realize that this means more than length of hair and particular preferences for food and clothing, this definiton is actually quite good. A person's spirituality is the way in which he or she lives in accordance with basic values. The famous Swiss theologian, Hans Urs von Balthasar, has given this a more philosophical formulation: "The way in which [an individual] acts and reacts habitually throughout his life according to his objective and ultimate insights and decisions.''~ The strength of such a definition lies in its completeness; its weakness is that it is too complete. We are left afloat on a sea of private human experience with no markers to make this or that dimension of experience stand out. These defini-tions are good because they include everything, but they are not workable because they distinguish nothing. And without distinctions analysis is impossible. What should we look for in a workable definition? First of all, a definition of spirituality for the purpose of study should limit the material to what is expressed. Nothing canbe studied unless it iscommunicated in some way. It is true that spirituality must deal with the mysterious depths of the human per-son in relationship to God and that. this mystery often defies conceptualiza-tion. However, it is usually open to communication through symbolization; and this, too, is a form of expression. Spirituality studies expressions, and these expressions can be conceptual or symbolic: they can be words, or they can be art, music, architecture, or indeed any form of human activity. Of course, an individual's full experience of his or her relationship with God can never be adequately expressed., not even symbolically. This is simply a dif-ficulty which the study of spirituality must accept; we can only examine what is expressed and yet we know that the expression is never exhaustive of the reality. Secondly, a definition of spirituality should contain the idea of personal ~ Hans Urs yon Balthasar, "The Gospel as Norm and Test of All Spirituality in the Church," from Spirituality in the Church, Christian Duquoc, editor, Concilium, vol 9 (Paulist, 1965), p. 7. 6 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 growth. There is no spirituality for an animal, nor do we ever speak of God's spirituality.~ What distinguishes the human condition is growth beyond self, self-transcendence. There is a restlessness which is a constant striving to move from the less~ authentic to the more authentic. This is why spirituality gravitates so readily to psychology, and it is precisely the point at which the greatest care must be exercised not to confuse the two.7 Finally, as indicated earlier, a workable definition must contain markers: terms in the definition which orient the material by distinguishing what is important from what is unimportant. Without some means of making distinc-tions the material of spirituality presents an undivided sameness inimical to study. Markers differentiate that material; and this, in turn, facilitates ques-tions for analysis. The particular selection of markers will necessarily be somewhat arbi.t.rary. Here I have chosen to view any spirituality primarily from the standpoint of expressions of the authentic and expressions of the inauthentic. A spiri'tuality, then, is the expression ofa dialecticalpersonal growth from the inauthentic to the authentic. There are three ingredients in the definition: expression, dialectical personal growth, and authentic-inauthentic. Expres-sion need not be clarified further. Growth has been called dialectical to underscore the fact that all spiritual growth is a simultaneous "yes" to one thing and a "no" to something else. Each step toward the authentic demands a corresponding rejection of the inauthentic.8 The Gospel of Luke manifests this dia.lectical character in its expression of the beatitudes: every benediction has its corresponding curse (Lk 6:20-26). Inauthentic and authentic are the markers referred to above. The total authenticity of a human person would be his or her complete self, transcendence in love. Conversely, total inauthenticity would be complete self-alienation, self-centeredness in hate. For our purposes, however, expres-sions of the authentic and inauthentic will normally be but partial representa-tions of these absolute states. In a famous line from the Imitation of Christ, for example, compunction is an expression of the authentic while vain knowledge is an expression of the inauthentic;9 they are signposts along the ~ Process theologians may take exception to this. In a di-polar notion of God one might be able to speak of God's spirituality: "God in his consequent aspect receives into himself that which occurs in the world, so that it becomes the occasion for newer and richer, as well as better~ concretions in the ongoing movement of divine activity," W. Norman Pittenger, "Process Thought: A Contem-porary Trend in Theology," Process Theology, Ewert H. Cousins, editor (Newman, 1971), p. 27. Even if one were to accept this position, it would be quite difficult to move from the idea of a spirituality of God to its description. ' It is very easy for spiritual direction to become psychological counseling. Of course, sometimes this is desirable because it is counseling which is needed, but often we slide into a counseling framework simply because it seems to have more substance than spiritual direction. This again reveals the necessity of definition and methodology proper to spirituality. a Lonergan views this as a fundamental characteristic of religious development. See Method, p. II0. Study of Spirituality / 7 way. Furthermore, specific expressions of the authentic and the inauthentic are not always univocal, even within the sam, e spirituality. In the Cloud of Unknowing, meditation on Christ's passion can be either an expression of the authentic or the inauthentic, depending on the stage of one's contemplative development.'° Questions for Analysis In an age as hermeneutically conscious as our own, it need not be stressed that a pre~'equisite for the analysis of any spirituality is some understanding of its historical-cultural context. To be unaware, for instance, that the end of the Roman persecutions coincided with the great movement to the desert in the fourth century would be to miss the opportunity for many insights into the roots of desert spirituality. The historical-cultural context is available for anyone who wishes to take the time to do someresearch. Our project assumes that this research can and will be done, but we are concerned here with something more general. Questions for analysis must serve two purposes. They must provide a means of organizing the material of a spirituality in such a way that the material can be more easily assimilated. In other words, they must teach us how to read and. how to retain what we read more effectively. The other pur-pose is that of comparison and contrast. The questions for analysis must be such that they canbe asked more or less equally of any spirituality. It is only by putting the same questions to many different bodies of material that we can begin, the,process o.f comparing similarities and contrasting differences which will lead us to deeper understanding. The first question flows immediately from the terms of the definition: what.are the expressions of the authentic and the inauthentic? An effective way to begin answering this question is to make a list. Reading through the SpiritualExercises of St. Ignatius, for instance, we would observe that shame and confusion, sorrow, tears, anguish, intimate knowledge, poverty, humility and gratitudeI' are but some of the expressions of the authentic; and we could do the same for expressions of the inauthentic. Making a list is a good way to begin because it directs us to the text with a simple and specific objective: how does the spirituality express what it values and what it rejects? An exhaustive 9 "I would rather feel compunction of heart for my sins than merely know the definition of com-punction," Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ, edited with an introduction by Harold C. Gardiner (Image, 1955), Book I, chapter 1. ,o The Cloud of Unknowing, by an anonymous fourteenth-century Englishman, edited and in-troduced by William Johnston (Image, 1973), chapter vii. , '~ Ignatius Loyola, Spiritual Exercises, translation by Louis J. Puhl (Newman, 1954). Shame and confusion, sorrow, tears and anguish are from the First Exercise of the First Week, #48; intimate knowledge of Christ is from the First Comtemplation of the Second Week, #104; poverty and humility are from the Two Standards, #147; and gratitude isffrom the Contemplation to Attain the Love of God, #233. 8'/Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 list is rarely possible or even desirable, but we do want to be certain that we ini-tiate our analysis by carefully gathering all of the pertinent expressions. A list gives us the concrete expressions from which to work, but it is too one-dimensional to be of more than limited value. By itself a list cannot single out those expressions which are of special importance, nor can it fit them into a pattern of meaning. What we lack is an organiz.ing form'2 which could give the expressions depth and a relationship to one another. In the SpiritualExer-cises an excellent illustration of such a form is the image of the Two Stand-ards: the Kingdom of Christ verstis the Kingdom of SatanI' ~ The Kingdom of Christ gives depth and relationship to t.he expressions of the authentic while the Kingdom of Satan does the ~ame for the inauthentic. Intimate knowledge, poverty, humility, gratitude and the like contribute definite nuances to the understanding of the nature of these two kingdoms; and the expressions, in turn, receive their full meaning only in relationship to the complete image. The Two Standards are the unifying image for expressions in Ignatian spirituality. While Ignatius himself gives the organizing form of the Two Standards, it is often necessary to uncover a form which is not itself one of the particular images used in a given text. Such would be thecase in the Life'ofAntony by Athanasius. ~4 Clearly the text does not lack for images, but the best organizing form is rather the structure which Athanasius employs to develop his story: a series of four withdrawals by Antony, each one into greater solitude. The authgr uses these withdrawals to highlight periods of development in Antony's life, and each period unifies a corresponding set of expressions of the authentic and the inauthentic. In the first withdrawal Antony left his home to li~,e on the outskirts of the village with an older ascetic. The expressions of the authentig and the inauthentic are characteristic of a "novitiate" period: zeal, faith, desire for purity of heart, imitation 6f the older ascetic were set in opposition to anxiety over f~mily, money, fame, difficulties of asceticism and sexuality. In the second withdrawal, closing himself into a tomb,, the chief ex- '~ The identification of basic units (expr~essions of the authentic and the inauthentic) and the discovery of the forms by which these expressions are related have a slight resemblance to struc-turalism. However, a double caution is in order. In i!s extreme sense structuralism can become an ideology in which all we can know about a system are its basic units and their associations; further meaning would be denied. In a less ideological sense structuralism is a method of inquiry which can be more friendly to theology and spirituality, but even here--as the term can be 'very am-biguous- l wish to make clear that my own use is limited to exactly what has been described in the text. '~ Spiritual Exercises, #13~,- 148. ~' St. Athanasius, Patriarch of Alexandria, was probably the author of the Life ofA ntony shortly after the hermit's death in 356. Antony represented a prototype .for the desert fathers, and, whatever the historical accuracy of the Life, it c~ertainly had a profound influence" on desert spiritqality. This important work is once again available in English: Athanasius: The Life of St. AntOny and the Letter to Marcellinius, translation and introduction by Robert C. Gregg, preface~ by William A. CIcbsh (Paulist, 1980~ Study of Spirituality p~'essions of the inauthentic are wild imaginings, terror and the temptation to flight, while defiance of the demons, perseverance and faith are expressio ~ns of the authentic. From the tomb Antony went to live in an abandoned fort in the desert where he was besieged by the demons. A hint of weariness from the clamor of the demons is the only expression of the inauthentic while expres-sions of the authentic reflect Antony's growing strength: confidence, utter equilibrium, purity of soul, and so forth. Antony's final withdrawal was to the "inner mountain" which is described in paradisal terms. The expression of the inauthentic most characteristic of this period is pride in the power God has given him; while the expressions of the authentic are the manifestations of the power of the Spirit working through Antony: overpowering the demons, curing the sick, instructing the monks and confiz lnding the heretics.~ It is not always possibly to find a single form o of material together. One rather difficult text is tt fine analysis of this spiritual classic, Bernard SI truths which they [the four books of the Imitati~ ranged according to a precise play, a rational s~ dialectic."~6 Much of the difficulty is due to the sl of thoughts useful to the spiritual life, possibly There is a variety of equal themes, and so no sine could give unity to all the expressions. The most o is to discover, or invent, several forms which toge into useful patterns. As a corollary to the organizing forms we can i of the authentic and the inauthentic for stages of s life is a type of growth but in many well-devei specified stages,'7 and the key for detecting thesl sions of the authentic and the inauthentic. When ~ authentic becomes an expression of the inauthen growth has been crossed. An example of this ha~ i the Cloud of Unknowing: meditation on Christi! the authentic for the beginner but just the oppt vanced in the spirit of contemplation. Sometimes 'image which will tie a body Imitation of Christ. In his ~aapen has noted that "the n] enfold have not been ar-ructure, or a psychological yle of the work: a collection by more than one author. le form can be found which ne can do in such a situation ther best gather the material dso examine the expressions !iritual growth. All spiritual 9ed spiritualities there are ~ stages lies with the expres-particular expression of the tic, then a stage of spiritual dready been furnished from passion is an expression of ~site for someone more ad-the stages of growth will be '~ The four journeys: leaving his home to live on the outskirts of a village (Life of Antony, c. 4); living in the tomb (Ibid, c. 8); from tl~e tomb to the abandoned fort (Ibid, cc. 11-12); and the withdrawal to the inner mountain (Ibid, cc. 49-51). ,6 Bernard Spaapen, "A New Look at an Old Classic," from Imitating Christ, E. Malatesta, editor, Religious Experience Series, vol. 5 (Abbey Press, 1974). This work is a translation from the French Dictionary of Spirituality. " Frequently a spirituality will describe the break between an unreflective Christian life and the desire to lead a more spiritual life. Another break occurs later when the Christian leaves the period characterized by struggle and "spiritual achievement" and moves more into a climate of sur-render and "spiritual giftedness." The classical distinctions have been the three ways: purgative, illuminative, and unitive. 10 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 the structure giving unity to the material, but this will not always be the case. The second question for analysis comes from the idea of personal growth. A ~pirituality which reaches the state of expression does not appear out of the vacuum, but it is the maturation of much personal experience. One or many have traveled a similar dialectical journey from the inauthentic to the authen-tic and from this experience comes a wealth of valuable insight. This insight, which embodies both the techniques and the lived experience of the journey, can be called wisdom, and it is the ob)ect of the second question: what is the wisdom of a particular spirituality? To discover the wisdom of'a particular spirituality we must look at its teaching. In what special manner does a spirituality propbse.to find God, and what experience flows from its techniques of encounter? In the Life of Antony, for example, wisdom comes especially from the experience of solitude, x~hich for the desert fathers meant struggle with demons representing every imaginable thought or feeling. The wisdom of the Life of Antony is expressed in a long speech by the hermit to a group of other hermits assembled for the occasion.'8 This speech, often called a speech on discernment, is a description of what to expect in solitude and how to deal with whatever (or whomever) occurred. The wisdom of the desert employs some of the most colorful and varied imagery in the history of spirituality, but it is always characterized by the detection and diminishment of interior turmoil in order to find and preserve apatheia.'9 A very different example, though with striking parallels, is fouhd in the wisdom of St. Ignatius. The Spiritual Exercises express wisd6m not in speeches but in appendices: rules for thinking with the Church, rules for eating, rules for discernment, and so on. Ignatian wisdom, however, is not contained equally in all these rules but in one special and famous set: the rules for the discernment of spirits.2° As mentioned above, the primary image of lgnatian spirituality is the Two Standards, and the go~.l is to serve with Christ who wishes to spread his Kingdom and defeat the Kingdom of Satan. Now these kingdoms will enjoy victory or suffer defe~t as a result of our particular choices. However, the kingdoms are distinguished from each other less by the ,8 Life of Antony, cc. 16-43. ,9 Apatheia was the ascetical goal of the desert fathers. It was not apathy but rather a state of in-terior calm and recollection. Athanasius described this state in the Life of Anthony: "The state of his soul was one of purity, for it was not cpnstricted by grief, nor relaxed by pleasure, nor affected by either laughter or dejection. Moreover, when he saw th'e crowd, he was not annoyed any more than he was elated at being embraced by so many people. He maintained utter equilibrium, like one guided by reason and steadfast in that which accords with nature" (c. 14). Perhaps the best summary of desert wisdom is contained in the writings of Evagrius Ponticus (d. 399), especially in his Praktikos. This has been translated together with Chapters on Prayer and published as Praktikos: Chapters on Prayer translated and edited by John Eudes Bamberger, O.C.S.O. (Cistercian Publication, 1970). ~o Spiritual Excercises, #313-336. Study of Spirituality object of a particular choice than by attitudes. Consequently, the disciple of Christ must differentiate between objects of possible choice according to authenticating.feelings (attitudes) or their opposites. The rules for the discern-ment of spirits, are Ignatius' wisdom for making this all important differentia-tion and decision. There is no need to multiply examples. Wisdom gets at the heart of a particular spirituality because it taps the special experience of the person or persons who have lived it. Often referred to "thoughts" in describing the struggle of solitude and to apatheia as the goal of that struggle. For Ignatius, the key word would be discernment. On the other hand, there need not be but one wisdom for every spirituality. Moving beyond the Spiritual Exercises one could speak also of a wisdom of obedience in Ignatius. The 0b)ective~is to identify the central insights of a spirituality; insights, however, that flow from matured experience. Finally, we.should underline the fact that questions for analysis--expres-sions and wisdom--are effective for focusing and organizing the material, but they certainly do not exhaust its riches. In addition to the fact that no set of questions can ever draw everything from the material, a spirituality will always retain a certain opacity regardless of how carefully it is scrutinized; ~and we will always find ourselx~es returning to the source for clarification, new insight, and personal edification. However, at some point in time we must determine that an analysis is finished, both in the number of questions asked and in the depth of the answers. It is the suggestion of this article that the two questions given above will focus and organize the material sufficiently to enable us to turn to the wider arena of comparison and contrast of different spiritualities. Questions for Comparison and Contrast Bernard Lonergan has described method as"a normative pattern of recur-rent and related operations yielding cumulative and progressive results.''2' What we have thus far isnot a complete method but its foundation. Questions for analysis provide a normative pattern of operat!ons which can be applied to. any number of particular spiritualities, but only continued application fol-lowed by comparison and contrast will yield cumulative and progressive results. Now the general matter for any comparison and contrast would normally be the exprbssions of the authentic and the inauthentic, the images and forms which give them unity, and the expressions of wisdom. From this one could proceed in any number of ways depending only on time, interest, and avail-ability of sources. Let us suppose, for example, that someone was interested in the general topic of prayer and that he or she had some familiarity with both 2, Lonergan, Method, p. 4. 12 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 the Cloud of Unknowing and the works of John of the Cross. Even an exami-nation'of the titles would reveal that "cloud" and "night" are expressions of the authentic for both. A study of the similarities and differences between the Cloud's understanding of "cloud" and John of the Cross's understanding of "night" might prove to be a straightforward and interesting investigation into the meaning of apophatic prayer.2' Ordinarily the work of comparison and contrast will draw heavily on our ability to understand the relative hist6rical-cultural contexts. This can be given some direction, however, if we keep in mind two principles for compari-son. The first is that a spirituality cannot help but reflect certain cosmological perspectives. As a result we should always ask: what understandings of space and time shape the relationship between self, world, and God for a particular spirituality? For example, the Life of Antony used a simple cosmological framework which placed a person on top of the world but under two concen-tric hemispheres: the air, which was the abode of the demons, and the sky, which was heaven and the abode of God. Thus, to go to God one had to leave the world and ascend through the air, and this meant battles with the demons. Today we experience ourselves through a cosmology which is couched in evolutionary and psychological terms. Instead of place, time is the important parameter: it is no longer "up" and "down" which correspond to the authen-tic and the inauthentic but "transformation" and "regression." The discovery and investigations of the unconscious have forged a new vocabulary for our descriptions of evil, human growth, and the nature of freedom. The unconscious has also given us a new locus for expressions of the authentic and the inauthentic. The cosmology of the day--be it Antony's, our own, or any other--will not only shape the expressions of spirituality but it will also locate those expressions in accordance with its perception of the relationship in time and space of self, world, and God. ~: The cosmological questions can be made specific. The question, "'Where is Christ?" yields interesting resolts when asked of St. Basil the Great (fourth century) and St. Ignatius (sixteenth century). Each has a passage about Christ the King and his call to men and women to follow him, but note the different images for describing where Christ is and the practical consequences for discipleship. For Basil: "Where is Christ the King? In heaven, to be sure. Thither it behooves you, soldier of Christ, to direct your course. Forget all earthly delights.''23 Ignatius, however, perceived the world as friendlier potential for the self's encounter with God: "Consider Christ our Lord, standing in a lowly place in a great plain about the region of Jerusalem . ,,2, And instead of forgetting the world in order to go to Christ in heaven, Ignatius See note 28 below. Basil, "An Introduction to the Ascetical Life," From St. Basic, Ascetical Works, TheFathers of The Church vol. 9, translated by Sister M. Monica Wagner, C.S.C. (New York, 1950), p. 9. Spiritual Exercises, #144. ¯ Study of Spirituafity / 13 encourages people to follow a Christ who "sends them throughout the whole world to spread his sacred doctrine among all men, no matter what their state or condition.''25 We can do similar comparisons for time. "'When will Christ come?" For St. Paul and the early Christians the answer was, "Soon!" But for most of the Church's history until recently, the question of time hasn't been that impor-tant. Most Christians tended to regard the world as having a certain timeless stability. The important time was not Christ's coming in glory but the individ-ual's meeting with Christ at death. Today, however, an evolutionary con-sciousness has made time very important. When will Christ come for someone imbued with the vision of Teilhard de Chardin? He will come when the human race, now responsible for cooperating in its own evolution, will have (with God's grace) brought about the kingdom. Statements about time and place are not theological statements; they are descriptions of world views. The location of a spirituality within its particular cosmological framework makes possible the comparison and contrast of similar expressions which come from widely different historical-cultural con-texts. It would be far beyond the scope of this article to attempt to outline the world views which have shaped and been shaped by western thought, but it is worth mentioning here two books which are particularly insightful: Romano Guardini's The End of the Modern World and John Dunne's A Search for God in Time andMemory.~6 Guardini has mapped out four cosmologies fun-damental to the history of western thought: classical, medieval, modern, and post-modern. If we take into account that much has occurred which might further clarify his analysis of the present (post-modern) period, this work is very useful. Dunne has given the study of world views an interesting refine-ment by pointing to the different~ ways in which autobiographies have been written: a story of deeds (classical), a gamut of experience (Augustine), a lad-der of experience (medieval), and a story of appropriation (modern and con-temporary). This does not do justice to the nuances given by Dunne, but the distinctions he introduces are invaluable for appreciating the genres under which spiritual growth has been described. A second principle for comparison and contrast is that there exist specifi-cally different, yet equally valid, spiritualities within the Church. In other words, spiritualities differ not only because of various historical-cultural backgrounds, but they also differ according to type. Of course, a rigid and exclusive classification would be impossible and undesirable, but the varied emphases of many spiritualities suggest that we might discover several models which would help us to better understand similarities and differences. ~ lbid, #145. 2~ John Dunne, A Search for God in Time and Memory (Macmillian, 1967). Romano Guardini, The End of the Modern World, edited with an introduction by Frederick D. Wilhelmsen, translated by Joseph Theman and Herbert Burke (Sheed and Ward, 1956). "14 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 To develop models it Js necessary to select criteria for differentiation. This selection, always arbitrary, establishes the parameters by which the models are distinguished. Here the criteria will be "attitudes" toward two potential loci for expressions of the authentic: the world--including human society and institution--and history--especially change and conversion. We can deter-mine the models by asking this question: does a spirituality view the world and/or history as a positive locus for expressions of the authentic?2' If a spirituality is not positive toward either we will call it apophatic; if it is positive toward both we will call it apostolic; if it is positive toward the world but not toward history we will call it city-ofrGod; and if it is positive toward history but not toward the world we will call it prophetic. At one extreme, answering "no" to both the world and to history, are the apophatic'8 spiritualities. These are the mystical spiritualities known to us today primarily through the Cloud of Unknowing, John of the Cross, and Thomas Merton. For an apophatic spirituality, the chief expression of the authentic is negation of the specific image: one goes toGod through unknow-ing or through darkness. It should be stressed, however, that the apophatic spiritualities do not necessarily hold that the world is evil or that history is meaningless; one need only think of the concern and involvement of Thomas Merton. The apophatic spiritualities emphasize a wisdom of contemplation through negation, and the goal of that contemplation is the love and knowledge of God. A curiosity of apophatic prayer is that its central insight-negation- should never be practiced by a beginner. Both the Cloud and John of the Cross counsel that apophatic prayer is not for everyone, that beginners should definitely rely on the media.ting image, and that there are signs by which one can know if he or she is called to this form of prayer.'9 At the other extreme, answering "yes" to both world and history, are the apostolic spiritualities. An apostolic spirituality views the world and history as a locus for self-transformation, Its expressions can vary greatly. Ignatius was concerned with "the defense and propagation of the faith and the progress of souls.''3° For Ignatius holiness was found through an involvement with the 27 The idea for this came to me from reading John Macquarrie, Christian Hope (Seabury, 1978). In a s~ction called, "A Typology of Interpretations" (pp.86-88), Macquarrie works out four types of Christian hope: individual vs. social, this-worldly vs. other-worldly expectations, evolutionary vs. revolutionary, and realized vs. future. 2a Apophatic: in speaking of God one can either affirm certain truths (kataphatic theology) or, realizing that God is beyond any conceptualization, one can speak o'f him by negation (apophatic theology). The apophatic mystics are those whose way the the way of unknowing. This can be found to a high degree in many mystical writers, and the chief source for ~their apophatic vocabulary is the work of a mysterious Syrian monk of the t:ifth or sixth century who has been known through the ages as Dionysius the Areopagite or pseudo-Dionysius. 29 Cloud of Unknowing, c. 75. John of the Cross~ Ascent of Mount Carmel, translated, edited, and introduced by E. Allison Peers (Image, 1958) Book I1, c. xiii, pp. 219-223. ~0 Ignatius Loyola, The Formula of the Institute, as contained in the papal bull, Exposcit debitum Study of Spirituality world in an attempt to spread the kingdom. Ignatius' successor, Father Pedro Arrupe, wants "the conversion of the individual" but he also wants to "transform the world into a fit habitation for justice and humanity.''3' It is important to distinguish apostolic work from apostolic spirituality as that model is being described here. Everyone is called in some way to the apostolate, but not everyone seeks God primarily through involvement with the world and the transformation of its history. When a particular spirituality adopts the vocabulary of involvement and transformation in its expressions of the authentic and the inauthentic and in its statement of wisdom, then it exem-plifies the essential marks of the apostolic model. A city-of-Godspirituality, saying "yes" to the world and "no" to history, is characterized by the location of expressions of the authentic in one special place in the world to the exclusion of others. This place, which then becomes a reflection of the kingdom of God, could be a monastery, the home, or even the individual human heart. St. Benedict summarized his wisdom in the form of a Rule: how to live the kingdom together in the monastery. The Imitation of Christ counsels flight to the safety of our own hearts where "you will see the kingdom of God come into your soul.''32 A city-of-God spirituality has probably been the norm for most Christians throughout history, and it is also a characteristic of every other type of spirituality, even if not the primary one. Whenever we focus on a particular community or on our own heart we are highlighting the city-of-God dimension of our spiritual lives, The prophetic spirituality finds expressions of the authentic in .history but not in the world. The Old Testament prophet offered interpretations of history as well as judgments. The radical poverty of St. Francis of Assisi was a judgment of the abuse of material wealth and it was a sign of hope in a God who would fulfill all promises. Prophetic spirituality is often characterized.by living one or more of the gospel values to an extreme: Francis and poverty, the virgins and ascetics living a life of celibacy while awaiting martyrdom in the early Church, or the gospel-motivated civil disobedience in our own times. While prophetic spirituality often contains the dimension of a "challenge" it certainly need not be a gloomy spirituality--as witnessed by the joy of St. Francis. Once again, we must not adhere to these models too rigorously. The ex-amples given above illustrated the tendencies of their respective models to a marked degree; but most spiritualities, includ!ng those mentioned, are mix-of July 21, 1550. Translation from Th~ Constitutions of the Society of Jesus, translated and edited by George Ganss (Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1970), p. 66. ~ Pedro Arrupe, "The Challenge of the World and the Mission of the Society," opening address to the Thirty-Second General Congregation of the Society of Jesus. Published in .4 Planet to Heal translated with notes by John Harriott (Ignatian Center of Spirituality, Rome, 1975), p. 312. ~ Imitation of Christ, Book 11, c. 1. 16 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 tures of all four, with perhaps one or more predominating. With this caution. in mind we could make use of the models to organize and clarify the dif-ferences and similarities we observe among the various spiritualities. For ex-ample, both Ignatius of Loyola and John of the Cross were sixteenth-century Spanish saints who shared the same geography and culture. The spiritualities of both these men are familiar enough to us that we would not be surprised to find a number of significant differences in spite of similar backgrounds. We know that consolation is an important part of the spirituality of Ignatius: it is an expression of the authentic, something to be sought in prayer. For John of the Cross, on the other hand, consolation in prayer was often a sign of the in-authentic: the contemplative advancing in prayer should neither seek consola-tion nor trust it when it came.~3 This apparent contradiction is resolved when we remember that we are dealing with two very different models of spiritual-ity. John, the apophatic mystic who shuns specific images so as to approach God in the "night," is consistent within his model when he rejects consola-tions. Ignatius, the apostolic man who finds God in the world through specific choices, is consistent in asking to have these choices confirmed through con-solation. Apophatic and apostolic are different paths of spiritual growth. Towards Evaluation Ultimately evaluation is the responsibility of the Church, and over the cen-turies she has generally given a wide latitude to the expressions claiming to be of the Spirit. As long as a spirituality refrained from making its charism nor-mative for all Christians, maintained a balanced view of theology and human nature, and did not habitually defy the directions of the hierarchy, the Church has been at least tolerant if not actively supportive. Ronaid Knox has catalogued a number of exotic spiritual movements beginning with the Corin-thian community, and his very thorough work is an encyclopedia of spiritual aberrations together with the appropriate judgment of the Church.3' Negative criteria are much easier to establish than positive, and the records of the Holy Office detail specific distortions to be avoided rather than positive principles on which to build. But, then, most great spiritual leaders did not consult the Vatican archives in order to construct a charism; they responded to the work of the Spirit and left the editing to others. Nonetheless~ it is possible to point out three indicators of a good spirituality: good theology, good sense, and good results. Good spirituality must flow out of the Christian communi-ty's understanding of the gospel and hence must exhibit good theology. Spirituality is a human movement, and so good spirituality should reflect a keen sensitivity to the human condition--good sense. Finally, a good spirituality will produce good results because it will be the work of the Holy Spirit-- "Whoever remains in me, with me in him, bears fruit in plenty" (Jn 15:5). John of the Cross, Ascent of Mount Carmel, Book II, cc. 4, 7. Ronald Knox, Enthusiasm (Oxford University Press, 1961). Study of Spirituality / 17 Good theology and good sense are not abstract principles which can be ap-plied unerringly to any new situation. In most cases they are the culmination of a long process of give and take between the Church and the proponents of a new spirituality. On the one side there must be an increasingly sympathetic understanding of the expressions of the new spirituality; on the other, there must be a growing clarification of the meanings of those expressions. Let us take St. Francis of Assisi and the Franciscans as an example. The cry for the vita apostolica--a return to the life of the gospels in penance, poverty, and preaching--did not appear suddenly in 1206 when Francis over-came his fear of leprosy. The twelfth century had already witnessed a large nu.mber of spiritual movements toward the vita apostolica, and many of these movements were in tension with the Church. A change in the socio-economic climate, the abuses of wealth especially among the clergy, and the Church's own reforms of the eleventh century had brought about a hunger for new ways of expressing the spiritual aspirations of those who did not feel called to the cloistered life of the monastery. The Cathars,3~ the Humiliati,~6 and the Waldensians~' were some of the better known movements which answered to this hunger. Almost inevitably there was resistance from the official Church. If we leave aside misunderstandings and personal animosities, this resistance was usually on theological and pastoral grounds. Theologically, the new movements presented opinions ranging from the outright dualism of the Cathars tothe denial of the validity of a sacrament administered by a corrupt priest. Such theological opinions, which touched the sacramental nature of the Church, could not be tolerated. Pastorally, the issue was normally over the right to preach. Did a person who took the gospel seriously and lived poorly have the right to preach without the permission of the local clergy or bishops? Both the Waldensians and the Humiliati approached Rome for approval but were rebuffed on the question of preaching. No one denied the need for greater poverty, and the pope himself called ~' The Cathars, also known as Albigensians, were especially active in southern France from the middle of the twelfth century. They were virtually a distinct religion with their own organization of dioceses. Theologically they were influenced by the Bogomils of Bulgaria whose theology can be traced back to a Manichean dualism. ~6 The Waldensians were an evangelical movement founded by Valdes, a merchant from Lyons~ They attempted to remain orthodox but were forbidden to preach at the time of the Third Lateran Council (I 179). ~' The Humiliati appeared in northern Italy during the second part of the twelfth century. They were forbidden to preach in 1179 but were eventually reconciled to the Church by Innocent III in 1201. He gave them a threefold rule which regulated the men as canons regular, the women as religious, and a group of married people as a type of third order. For an interesting treatment of the dealings of Innocent Ill with the Humiliati see Brenda Bolton, "Innocent lll's Treatment of the Humiliati", from Popular Belief and Practice, edited by G.J. Cuming and Derek Baker (Cambridge University Press, 1972). 18 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 the bishops and clergy to task for their failure to preach the gospel;38 it was a c/uestion of finding the right form. What took place in the twelfth century was a twofold development whereby the new expressions of spirituality were being clarified against the theological-pastoral demands of the Church; and the Church was learning to listen with more sympathy to the different spiritual needs of her people. By the end of the century the time was ripe for Francis and Dominic. Of course, the phenomenon of St. Francis was not just the inevitable out-come of an historical development. It was also the special work of God's grace in a man who was both generous enough to respond to the call for a life of radical poverty and humble enough to listen to the voice of the Church. Nonetheless, that long century of development points to the kind of prepara-tion and hard work out of which true spiritual insight is born. Nor did Innocent lII's approval of Francis in 1209 complete the process. As numbers increased problems did also. Good sense and a sound understanding of human nature called for certain modifications. More structure and organiza-tion were needed which could channel the charism without destroying it. Pro-vinces were established, local houses and superiors appointed and a year's novitiate was required.39 If we shift back into our own century we realize that the Church is con-stantly faced with new expressions of spirituality arising from the legitimate aspirations of a people hungering for God. These new movements need ~to be examined in the light of good theology and good sense, and they need to receive the sympathetic understanding of the Church. A serious study of spirituality can make a genuine contribution to this endeavor. First of all, a new spirituality needs to identify, and then clarify its expres-sions. This is the work of analysis described earlier. What are the expressions of the authentic and the inauthentic and the forms which organize them? What is its wisdom? Only after these questions are carefully answered does theological evaluation become possible. When we know the expressions of the spirituality and their relationship to one another, then we know its theological stance and we can judge it. The analysis will also reveal the spirituality's perspective on human nature, its understanding of the human condition. While great care must be exercised here, it would violate good sense to have a ,8 In his treatment of the twelfth century, M.-D. Chenu wrote: "Peter the Chanter had denounced the 'most dreadful silence' (pessima taciturnitas) of the clergy, and both Peter and Innocent Ill had invoked a phrase from Isaiah (56:10) to repudiate "these muted dogs who don't have it in them to bark," M.-D. Chenu, Nature, Man, and Society in the Twelfth Century." Essays on New Theological Perspectives in the Latin West, selected, edited, and translated by Jerome Taylor and Lester L. Little. preface by I~tienne Gilson. (University of Chicago Press, 1968), p. 244. ~9 For a discussion of these developments, see Cajetan Esser, Origins of the Franciscan Order, translated by Aedan Daly, O.F.M: and Dr. lrina Lynch (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1970); see especially Chapter Ill: "First Crises and Attempts to Overcome Them." Study of Spirituality / 19 spirituality which proved to be psychologically destructive. It has unfor-tunately happened in the history of spirituality that "leaving the world" has become an occasion for hatred and destruction of the self or the body rather than a love for God?° Finally, analysis of a new spirituality will reveal its in-ternal coherence or lack thereof. This is important because personal growth demands a certain degree of unity of purpose and technique, and a spirituality which seems to move in many different directions at the same time will only provoke confusion and frustration. While this may appear to be obvious, it is not always so easy to recognize. For example, a spirituality expressed entirely in a nineteenth-century idiom might exhibit good theology and good psychology, but unless it is able to translate itself coherently into the language and forms of the twentieth century there will always be an unnecessary tension from trying to operate in a world view, a cosmology, which is no longer our own. This was one of the reasons for Vatican II's call for adaptation in religious life. In addition, a new spirituality needs to be understood externally, and this is the work of comparison and contrast. From the Church's standpoint, evaluation will be enhanced wfien a spirituality is known in relation to other spiritualities both past and present. This much goes without saying~ But such an external understanding'can also be quite useful for the spirituality itself. One of the habitual dangers for a new movement is to see itself as being unique in respo ~nding to the call of the gospels. Time and time again this has resulted in sectarianism and heresy. When a spirituality understands itself in the con-text of.history it will be better able to appreciate its uniqueness without overestimating its importance. 40 An extreme example of this might be found in the Cathars who practiced (though rarelY,) a form of suicide by starvation called endura. This occurred only after the reception of the consolamen-turn which was a conbination of baptism and Eucharist. Once the believer received the con'- solarnentum he or she was to live without any sin whatsoever. It was in fear of a relapse that some chose to end their lives as soon after consolsmentum as possible. The Treasurer As Professional Paschal Phillips, O.C.S.O. Father Phillips is a member of the monastery of Our Lady of Guadalupe Trappist Abbey; Lafayette, OR 97127. Ulnder the bland title of this article lurks a contentious thesis. I hope to demonstrate that the function of the provincial treasurer is a specialized, pro-fessional calling, importantly distinct from related professions such as accounting or management, but every bit as clearly definable and of crucial importance to religious communities. The practical issue of all this appears in the damage done through failure to recognize or effectively utilize this unique function, and the concomitant misjudgments concerning training, qualification, and role recognition. Problems of Definition At the outset, the multiplicity of terms presents a hurdle with symbolic overtones. Titles such as "procurator" "econome" "cellarer" "fiscus" and "minister" vie with more commonplace old standbys like "treasurer" and "business manager" in vague but roughly interchangeable usage. The fact that such nebulous nomenclature has continued points to a lack of reflection on the common nature of the office underlying the multiple titles. Admittedly the office, which we shall for simplicity's sake henceforth call "treasurer," does admit of multiple definitions, since it changes not only from congregation to congregation, but, even more radically, with the person-alities of the incumbent and of the major superior served by the incumbent. In fact, it is usually easier to note major differences in the function which ensue from each provincial election than it is to discover a consistent pattern of divergence between the "economes" of congregation X and the "proc-urators" of congregation Y. 2O The Treasurer as Professional / 21 Besides, any congregation is free to define the duties of its various officers without having to make special reference to neat patterns convenient to the writers of magazine articles. It might follow that analyzing the functions of a treasurer is spreading nets to catch the wind, and that the function--if indeed there is a function at all--is characterized mostly by its lack of fixed form, for its utility lies largely in adapting to present circumstances and local custom. This is certainly true so far as peripheral duties such as bookkeeping go. But, under all the pluralism, a hard core of significance remains that may reward further reflection. The Core Function We live in a world of professionalism. Our first thought, in any need, is to call in a specialist. But routine can create problems. We are so used to calling in an "ologist,"'or training a member of the community to become one (which amounts to the same thing) that we hardly notice, much less reflect upon, the rather delicate set of questions that ought to proceed the call: Do we need help? Is this area important? Wti6m shall we consult? How Will the answers we get be conveyed to the community and its superiors? How will they be adapted to our needs? And how will we know that the answers have been accurately grasped, and emotionally accepted? The core-function of the provincial treasurer appears to be discovered through asking questions such as those, and providing some approaches to the answers. The function might be defined as liaison between the religious pur-pose of the community, and "the world" as organizational (business, legal, financial aspects). An example may clarify. Take the question of accounting: in many a congregation, any sentence which connects the words "treasurer" and "professional" automatically elicits the image of technical accountant. After all, the thinking goes, do we not carefully train teachers and cooks, pro-vincials and novice masters? So send the treasurer off to the university, and turn him or her into a C.P.A.! But there's the rub! We may have trained a C.P.A. who can perform a useful function-- but we have not trained a treasurer. This is not to deny that technical accounting abilities are one of the building blocks, but it does sug-gest that one building block does not make a whole structure. Reconstruct the scene from, that unfamiliar vantage point which defines the treasurer as the person who provides the liaison between the religious com-munity as religious and "the world" as organization. Obviously, accounting expertise is essential to understand and analyze much of what the organiza-tional world has to say to the religious, as it is also essential to translate some of the organizational and support problems of the community into a concise form that can be understood by speakers of "business-ese." But to stop at that point sets the stage for a familiar scenario: a treasurer who conceives his entire function to be that of expert in accounting (and he exists in a milieu where the tacit assumptions all reenforce this point of view), produces ever 22 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 more sophisticated and technically accurate quarterly reports, and submits them in all their complexity to a superior and council whose ability to under-stand them is no more sophisticated than it ever was. In practice the community ends with some poorly conceived mixture of ad hoc remedies. For example, the superior himself burns the midnight oil, hoping to assimilate the skills which enable business executives to glean their impressive insights from such corporate accounts. What has happened is that the already overburdened superior has taken on what is actually the core role of the treasurer. He is attempting to interpret to himself what the business world is saying, and the results are not always happy. The major superior has no time, really, to handle this added, and usually unwelcome chore. Neither does the training nor the personality traits which qualify a good religious superior easily blend well with the demands of business administration. Fur-ther, the superior is there~by subtly insulated from one key source of counsel, and this in an ominous way, since the change is scarcely noticed. Another common reaction of sophisticated reporting to .an unsophisti-cated audience is one of bland beffiddlement. An increasing percentage of council and community simply announce that they have no time for that sort of thing. They are sure that"such i~pressive figures must mean something, and "it is so comforting to realize that we can depend on such a skilled and dedicated treasurer." This remedy: so called, operates in the reverse of the one before. Now it is the treasurer who is isolated from needed feedback and in-telligent questioning, and the treasurer slowly begins to make decisions (or, more commonly, subconsciously to set things up so that only one decision can be made) which should have involved the superior's informed judgment from the start. The misunderstandings and confusions which result, and which so often are blamed on instincts for power or on exaggerated professionalism, are at root only the natural concomitants of poor role-definition. The above examples are painted in bold strokes. In practice any trained treasurer makes a more or less intelligent effort to translate the economic trends revealed by the analysis of the community books and by a general familiarity with the business cycle (changes of interest rates, increasing cost of government, red tape, inflation), and in those cases where this function is handled with skill and sensitivity, there is no doubt that the treasurer's office is being well served by its present incumbent. However, the main point is precisely that a function so delicate and so important should not be performed in a fit of absentmindedness. Few realize that there is the exact point where unreflective instincts, presenting a hastily conceived adaptation of the secular counterpart found in stockholders reports, as unverified assumption that "they" got the message, in short, amateurism, can effectively negate the benefits arising from professional accounting, skilled business analysis, and all the rest. The Treasurer as Professional / 23 Title and Function It should be apparent that one of our problems stems from the very title "treasurer," with its built-in connotation of "bookkeeper." Things are slightly better in more ancient Orders where the person filling this liaison role is called by some more generic title such as "procurator," but the basic prob-lem of role-definition usually remains unexamined. It is entirely possible that the "core function" we have been elaborating could be performed by someone other than the titular treasurer. Indeed, one of the problems is precisely that such is often the case, that, for lack of reflec-tion on the situation, this crucial liaison function is poorly performed by per-sons who scarcely realize they are even involved in such a role. Take, for example, these instances where some dedicated lay person now holds the office of provincial treasurer. There can be no question of these indi-viduals' technical skills, but, on the other hand, there can be little chance that they could ever deal with the community on the deep level of two-way com-munication that is needed to perform this liaison function. Yet someone must be performing that function--however imperfectly--or else the community would be left on the legendary "Cloud 9," a not unknown circumstance, sad to relate. Whoever that "someone" is, he or she is the de facto treasurer, while the holder of the titular office doubtless remains, skilled in his other profes-sion which is valid in itself but different in scope. Still, the very essence of the liaison function does d~mand an alert, in-formed, and up-to-date acquaintance with modern business and government trends. It is doubtful that any community officer except the treasurer would have the time, or even the inclination, to remain permanently qualified for the role. So if the titular treasurer is not the one functioning in the liaison role, our foregone conclusion is that sooner or later the function will be indifferently served. The essential connection between membership in the religious community and the liaison function is illumined more by practice than theory. At the risk of running one example to death we return to the quarterly accounting report. If the treasurer saw liaison as his or her primary function, the first question would still be "where can I hire a skilled .accounting technician to generate thoroughly reliable and professional figures?" Even the second question might be equally unsurprising: "Have I assured myself that I have the technical expertise to evaluate, accurately and professionally, the implications of the figures so presented?" (Already the field has broadened: the evaluation would, of necessity, include factors not strictly within the purview of an ac-countant.) It is the next step which becomes more demanding. "Exactly who are the real power-people and opinion-molders in the congregation, ~:egardless of title? And which items in this mass of data are the ones they need in order to make the decisions pertinent to th'eir role?" And, "Considering the individual personality, background training, and press of duties experienced by each such individual, what is the most effective way to present this data to him or 94 / Review for Religious, I/olume 40, 1981/1 her?" (These questions can lead to the elaboration of some very unorthodox but extremely effective financial reports!) /. It is a rare treasurer who sees the answer to the last two questions as so cen-tral as to demand more skill, more time, more thought and, if available, more training than the elaboration of the figures themselves. It is a rare community which would not be enriched and facilitated if the treasurer did just that. But it also seems next to impossible that any outsider, no matter how sagacious or trusted, could really have the indispensable in-depth understanding of the per-sonality limitations, the real power distribution (as distinguished from a table of organization), and the sundry lapses in hearing skills which form the living matrix of intramural communications. Perhaps fortunately, the liaison function is not usually looked upon as at-tached to the highest echelons of power. Yet, it is all too easy for casual observers, who already have the treasurer pigeonholed in a relatively trivial technician's role, to see any such outreach into the one indispensable function as an intrusion on the role of the superior. Such a reaction, though, is more concerned with shadow than substance: the very essence of the liaison function is to assist, not supplant, the superior in making informed decisions, and to assist, not supplant, the community in understanding the options open to them. Areas of Practical Concern The many excellent circulars on taxes, social security and related subjects coming from the offices of CMSM and LCWR provide opportunity for a quick, but necessarily very rough, check-up. These documents certainly sug-gest impending changes in life-style, deteriorating legal immunities, new norms of economic security and other important long-term adjustments of our community lives. Are these coming changes being considered in advance in every community? Do the CMSM circulars filter down at all? If not, perhaps the liaison function could improve to fill the void. Before noting more current problems, a somewhat dated example might provide historical insight. Between Leo XIII and circa 1970 there was a grow-ing rift between the papal social encyclicals and the employment policies of certain Catholic institutions. Areas of tension have run all the way from the areas of unionization through wages, pensions, and fringe benefits, to on-the-job working conditions. The business world of the United States had somehow tended to come more into line with the encyclicals than religious! Fortunately, this is largely water under the bridge; the majority of Catholic religious orders have recently shown an informed awareness of the problems of Christian employment, even in cases where lack of funds has made it very difficult to know how to respond. But it did take a long time, in some cases a scandalously long time. And the evident surprise which has overtaken more than one provincial administration when the "dear, dedicated lay-teachers" or the "sweet smiling nurses" hit the picket lines, would argue some degree of The Treasurer as Professional / 25 failure in their early-warning system. It is hard to imagine that the fumbling, uncertain--sometimes obscurant-ist- labor relations poli~ie~ ~l:iich charaCteriZed churchly institutions before 1970 would not have been improved if there had been in each congregation one person who was consciously aware of his or her duty to become fully in-formed concerning these trends, and to communicate them to a congregation which was itself aware of having appointed him to such a post-- and respected his function. In short, if each community had possessed a treasurer who was expected to perform the core-function of that office, and trained t.o do it, and if each such treasurer had been left enough time from routine mechanical ac-counting chores to function thus, the whole tale would have been quite dif-ferent. In the absence of that function filled, too often surprise and misinfor-mation proved a poor substitute for expertise at the bargaining table, and in the delicate reestablishment of truly Christian relationships afterward. Even though the labor relations example can be classified as historical in most communities (not all!), it still cannot be written off. For example, the presence of Douglas Frazier of the United Auto Workers on the Chrysler Cor-poration Board of Directors is no doubt just the tip of a large iceberg. Already in Europe workers' representatives on the top levels of management are a commonplace. Is anyone looking up from the accounting books long enough to start formulating a response, or thinking out alternatives, or evaluating present practices, or otherwise preparing for the day when the staff at Hospital A and High School B will be demanding board representation-- per-haps on the management level of the parent religious community itself? Insurance programs reveal another type of need. Too often "profes-sionalism" in the treasurer has been equivalated to the qualification requisite in some other profession simply because no one has noted that the liaison function is a separate profession in itself. We have already noted how this tends, in the accounting function, simply to distance the treasurer from the needs of the community superiors who are not businessmen and therefore can-not be reasonably expected to get maximum benefit from financial anal~,sis designed for business executives. In the related questions of insurance coverage, the problem takes a slightly different twist, although profes-sionalism (again the wrong profession!) here also ends up searching for the solutions that are most effective in the business world. In practice, we end by asking "How can we most expeditiously fit our community into insurance programs written for secular concerns?" The results are often ingenious and admirable examples of the professionalism of the insurance industry. But if someone in the communitY were professionally alert to the peculiar nature of a religious organization as such, he might well end up asking, "What are tl~e unique needs of this community, regardless of what fits the secular organization?" The answer may be quite surprising, and almost always results in unexpected savings and administrative simplification. Fortunately, the question is being asked more and more, and, as a result, some 26 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 specialized insurance policies are being written from the ground up to fit the unique needs of Catholic religious orders. But it should have happened sooner, and the questions should have been asked in many more quarters. Even today too many religious are paying insurance premiums for maternity benefits! The center-stage projects of the hour are probably energy conservation and socio-political activism via proxy voting and the like. Both problem areas carry implications of long-term and profound changes in community life-style. Both, too, are typical in their relations to the treasurer as professional. The current pattern of response is often enough characterized by aimless drift, unplanned, sporadic action, or responses evidently dominated by oen-thusiasts in the community who may or may not have a grasp of the long-run legal and economic implications. Since these areas do have overtones which are none of the treasurer's pro-fessional concern (although hopefully he or she will be deeply concerned as a committed Christian and religious), it follows that the treasurer should not be trying to direct the basic policy decisions in these affairs. But the complexity and multiple legal interlockings involved also suggest that someone--some one-- in each community has to be in a position to study the question from an overall point of view, and to do so with a trained expertise. Some individual must eventually take responsibility for gathering all available information and casting it ina form that alerts both officers and community to the implications for life-style, future economic security, hazards to legal immunities, and all the rest. Further, whereas ad hoc studies can be commendable, some one has gotto stick to the job and follow through, lest the community of 1985 be still acting on the circumstances of 1975. Both by a process of elimination and by logic, this important and irreplaceable function sooner or later (probably sooner) comes home to roost in the treasurer's office, If the incumbent is viewed as a mere technician who handles the computer printout, the community response will, in all probabil-ity," follow the too familiar pattern of muddling through very deep muddles. The rapid erosion of those tax exemptions which form.the practical economic basis of most religious communities provides another field of con-cern for the treasurer as professional liaison officer. Few communities have ever even done any daydreaming, much less planning, about the impact of various all,too-probable changes in the. tax laws. The tendency is to cling mutely and hopefully to the leaky ship. Thisis a wise procedure so faras day-to- day operations are concerned. But some one somewhere in the community should be monitoring, injecting caution into long-range plans, alerting superiors and community to the dangerous side effects of this or that policy, and noting, at least in passing, such unexamined drifts as the slow tendency of both tax courts and local officials to forget the tacit but once universal assumption that religious communities are families (for example: the recent The Treasurer as Professional / 27 tendency to raise zoning problems about sisters living together in a convent situated in a zone for single families; the erosion of the rights of superiors to make decisions for dying, unconscious, or elderly confused members of the community; difficulties with state officials who insist on nursing-home regulations instead of family rules for convents caring for a few elderly sisters, and so on. It is all of a pattern: we are being redefined as "strangers" -- and no one seems to notice). Unfortunately, the personality who gets maximum satisfaction out of the tidy details of bookkeeping is only rarely the same as the one who can perceive social or economic change from afar off. The rare exceptions are indeed pearls of great price. But the core-function is impossible, even for the pearls, if the only training they receive and the only role expectation they encounter are directed exclusively toward the routine of day-to-day administration. Conclusion In the twelfth chapter of Romans, St. Paul surprisingly lists "administra-tion" among the gifts of the Spirit. Indeed, he lists it just after prophecy and before teaching, preaching and almsgiving. It would be ridiculous to apply his thought literally to any specific church functionary, treasurers included--no doubt he had wider nets to spread. But Paul does thereby warn us not to trivialize the administrative functions in the Church into routine mechanics and technological computer-feeding. Faith, judgment, and spiritual insight are necessary, and the community which restricts its gifts of time, training, and trust to major superiors, novice masters, and theology faculties may be quenching the Spirit in a vital area of action. Reflection on the real core-function of the treasurer may lead in most cases not only to a deeper appreciation, of that office, but t9 some understanding of the damnable frustrations connected thereto. Hopefully such reflection could also lead to a major review of the qualifications for the office, along with adjustments in the organizational and psychological matrix which is required for its effective fulfillment. Admittedly there is no place where anyone can go for training in this most delicate function (the author is hatching a plot in this regard!), but probably such training is little needed at least at first. The first Step is to identify who, if anyone, performs the liaison function in the community and then to recognize that function as needed, legitimate, and welcome. Much else will follow naturally. The Eucharist, Priesthood, and Renewal Neil J. Draves-A rpaia Father Draves-Arpaia is a priest attached to Our Lady of Perpetual Help parish. The mailing address is: P.O. Box 160; Scottsdale, AZ 85252. Priesthood is not intrinsically linked to celebration. It is first, and ultimate-ly, united with self-giving, and therefore, sacrifice. And since the sacrifice of-fered by Christians at Eucharist is the victory of Christ which has brought us salvation, it is impossible, once we have grasped the depth of meaning and the redemptive grace of the eucharistic sacrifice, to be any other way than "celebrative." Those who would reduce the Mass to sober ritual, executed with rubrical precision and stone-faced devotion, or those who would see it as a moment for "religious merriment" have moved awfiy, in either direction, from the core mystery that the eucharistic celebration is. For me, the amuse-ment of one group and the solemn piety of the other are both suspect, and neither adequately speak or witness to priesthood to being a priestlypeople. What then might we look for? 1 believe it is necessary to move away from speaking on the Mass for a moment and concentrate on the daily life of God's people. Self-giving, self-forgetting love, sacrifice (whichever term we use) once placed within Christianity must be evaluated in light of the Cross. The eucharistic sacrifice then has "cruciform" implications, and we must look to a cross section of responses and attitudes that come forth from God's people in Christ. Priesthood is a visible sign in our midst of the reality of sacrifice, specifically in the life of a person who is priest, and in the believing communi-ty that would be priestly. Both must express in clear terms and behavior that something two-fold is happening in their lives: that, first, their personal rela-tionship with God is solid and radically oriented towards incarnating the first 28 The Eucharist, Priesthood, and Renewal and greatest commandment, and, then, that their human relationships are more than superficial and nice, but solid, radically oriented towards incar-nating the second and greatest commandment. How might we begin to make evaluation of these? I'm convinced that the priesthood of the faithful and the ministerial priesthood must look to the life of prayer, be it expressed in formal, informal, public or private prayer-styles. There we must begin to ask if, when we go before the Lord, we are truly inter-ceding on behalf of one another. This will give us an indication of how much and to what degree we are in touch with human life and the genuine human needs of those around us. If we cannot bring ourselves to intercede, then we cannot fulfill our principle role as priests or as a priestly people. This is especially significant to the role of the priest-president at the eucharistic sacrifice, for without a continuous sense of intercession in the daily life of the priest, the eucharistic prayer will be formula-oriented and not at all like the priestly prayer of Jesus, who went to the Father on behalf of the people. Next, we must look, priests particularly, to our horizontal prayer: our beseeching and inviting the people to come forward as instruments and missionaries of love. It might not always mean using words, nor may it require lengthy "shar-ing sessions." Priestly people and ordained priests need to know more about the fact that in any "priestly" experience, the action must speak louder than the words. The religious leaders of Jesus' day, from the picture we get from the Scriptures, had words that spoke more loudly than their actions. Jesus called his disciples to the converse: action over words, both in G~d-oriented matters (faith) and people-oriented matters (charity). It's also important to keep in mind that Jesus had the least to say when he was crucified. It was at that moment alone that his Gospel call to love hung totally on pure act. What can we conclude with regard to priesthood and its place within pres-ent renewal and the Eucharist? Liturgical renewal cannot have the impact it is meant to have if it is not preempted by a priesthood that speaks clearly on the issue of "self-giving." For the decade and a half since the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy was issued by the Council, the Church has heard stressed that "the liturgy is the summit toward which the activity of the Church is directed," and that the faithful should approach the sacred mysteries with the proper dispositions so as to cooperate with grace, for the liturgy to produce its full effect. If the Eucharist is the summit, what is the base of Christian activi-ty, if it is not self-giving? And what is the proper disposition with which we ap-proach the eucharistic celebration, if it is not a readiness and willingness to be of praise and thanksgiving, openness and intercession, primarily in attitude, secondarily in words? Priesthood, both ministerial and the priesthood of the faithful (but prin-cipally the ordained priesthood)in itself must begin to look more like the eucharistic sacrifice to the Father with the people of God assembled. It must show itself "in the flesh" to be a continuum between brokenness and wholeness, of movement from the confines of secular humanism and/or 30 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 religious elitism (clericalism, fundamentally among priests themselves and the structures in which they function) to a sharedness, not solely in matters of, priestly service to the Church, but in the basic issues of their lives, issues which are common to all lives. Priesthood, as an instrument of renewal and in its ef-fect upon the Eucharist, becomes an incarnational experience, for it takes the Word and makes it a Verbum Dei: fleshes it, clothes it, directs it towards the kingdom. The moment becomes a means for priesthood to have within it a holiness that is greater than that of the scribes and pharisees since it acts on rather than talks about the concrete issues which face the world today. So, at the base of Christian existence the priesthood is motivation for the Lord's people to join in sacrifice both at the table of the Lord and at the table which is the world. The nature of this life of self-giving requires unconditionally simple signs which speak to the people, like the signs of bread and wine. But signs of love in the daily life of the priest become obscured when humanness is over-taken by a rank-ism in the Church which, in turn, degenerates priesthood into a separate class aloof from the laity and ineffective in speaking about their life experience except in the most "lofty" sort of ways. As the liturgical renewal called for a stripping of secoridary elements which found their way into the eucharistic celebration over the centuries, the priesthood, too, if it is to be an aid in the deep renewal of the Church, must have itself stripped of non-essentials. Like the eucharistic sacrifice of the Roman Rite; priesthood must begin to face the people and become more accountable to them. It must have its distracti'ng bells quieted. Priests, one would hope, can more effectively speak the language of the people and must appreciate how much priesthood's unique gifts come from the people and must return to them. It must witness a praise of life by the priest's readiness to help the human condition in each per-son's struggle to become reconciled to God. Priesthood, to me, expresses its thanksgiving best when priests themselves show a humbleness (which active thanks implies) before God and people, plus an openness which allows for the person of the priest to be nurtured by the community he is calling into fullness. This call to intercession is a vehicle, not for doing some thing for others, but as a preparation, a prayer, to be with them. To pray on behalf of others re-quires that the priest be half of the person who is neighbor. This would mean that we move beyond any limited and debilitating spirituality which might suggest that God hears the prayers of priest over those of the laity. The truly intercessory prayer that is Christian is the one which seeks from God a "oneness" with the p,eople to whom the priest is sent, as did the prayer of Jesus, "that all may be one as you, Father, are in me, and I in you; I pray that they may be one in us." Intercessory prayer speaks of sacrifice, for it moves away from the tendency to badger God for things for ourselves and others, and, when made by a priest, requests that he, here and now, will become the response the Lord would make to those in need. It is occasion for furthering solidarity in the Body of Christ (person to person) and for furthering solidar-ity in the Body of Christ (person to person) and for allowing the Holy Spirit to The Eucharist, Priesthood, and Renewal use priesthood as sacrament (God to his people). When intercession is made by a priestly, people, they pray to be the response the Lord would make to the world's needs, and the Church then can be a "kind of sacrament of union and unity." In this way, personal needs, while neither denied nor overlooked, become secondary for the moment, and the needs of others become primary for the moment. Intercessory prayer does not give us the chance to be self-seeking, or to approach God with the long multiplication of words that would make prayer manipulative and evasive. It helps us to understand more precise-ly why Jesus r~jects this as authentic prayer and replaces it with a simple prayer of unity that begins, "Our Father in heaven." The prayer of the priest (or of a priestly people) allows for lives to blend, and there will be less cause for disparity in the p.riest's daily life and his ministry at Mass, for this sacrificial celebration at the "summit of the Church's activity" will be an authentic summation of what has been. Priesthood has everything to do with self-giving, and as it forces its way out of entrapments it becomes an event, an encounter with what is real. The same applies to the entire people of God in Christ. Events, or moments of self-giving, are times of celebration and joy for they are an exodus from slavery, from the death of isolation and self~centeredness. It is on this issue where renewal is most needed: moving people away from thinking in terms of what they "do" to how they position themselves towards God and neighbor, the way they choose to be. The vocation of priest and of the priestly people leaps away, so to speak, from cultic functions and attendance at such, to a covenant in the eucharistic sacrifice, because there have already been preliminary celebrations ofthis mutual, self-forgetting love among Christians wherever they meet between the times they gather at table in the grace and peace of God, our Father a'nd the Lord Jesus. Catherine of Siena and Raymond of Capua: A Friendship in Perspective Paul Conner, O.P. Father Conner teaches moral and spiritual theology at the Dominican School of Philosophy and Theology of the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley. His address is: St. Albert's Priory; 5890 Birch Court; Oakland, CA 94618. Catherine Benincasa's public life is more widely known than her personal life: during the six hundred years since her death, attention has been so drawn to her astonishing political impact on the Europe of her day that she is fre-quently called one of the most influential women of history. Within our own decade Catherine's enduring intellectual and spiritual authority has been heightened through her being declared one of the two women doctors of the Church. Little wonder, then, that the private life of this Sienese woman has escaped widespread notice, and yet in regard to human friendships, for instance, few life histories are as intriguing, both in scope and depth of development. I would like to focus attention in this article on the dominant human rela-tionship of her short life of 33 years, her friendship with Blessed Raymond of Capua. This relationship could be understood adequately on its own merits, but I find that it takes shape so much better within the immediate religious setting of Dominican life in which it was born and flourished. Looking to the Lord Jesus is indeed first; but after this, every religious family that seeks the essential features of its life must turn to its founder. Tempting as it might be, I do not claim that friendship is an essential feature of Dominican life, at least as friendship is ordinarily understood--though there are superb examples of it in the Dominican heritage, past and present. What is interesting though, is that Dominic did give the spirit of friendship to 32 Catherine of Siena and Raymond of Capua / 33 his followers, since his own life was so rich, even overflowing, in friendship, human and divine. A glance, then, at his life, together with what might be termed a theological consideration of Dominican friendship, will form a helpful con-text within which to view Catherine's and Raymond's unique friendship. St. Dominic In spite of popular misrepresentation of St. Dominic in later centuries as a stern, inquisitorial figure, conclusive, historical evidence shows him to be an exceptionally loving person. More than three hundred depositions for his canonization; his first biography written by his friend and successor, Jordan of Saxony; the Lives of the Brethren, collecting eyewitness accounts of the early years from all over the order, all tell of the many men and women in various walks of life who cherished friendships with him. Jordan speaks of Dominic's lifelong, radiant mixture of charm and reserve that attracted and held men's hearts. His best modern biographer in English, Bede Jarrett, puts it this way: "God's greatest gift to man in the order of nature, and almost the greatest even on the supernatural plane, is the gift of making and securing friends; and judged by this, Dominic was indeed blessed by God.'" The first brethren assure us that perhaps no one among them had a greater taste for fraternity than Dominic. He enjoyed friendships of varying degrees with his followers, and, like his Lord, chose from among them a "beloved disciple," John of Navarre. With the many communities of sisters that he founded, Dominic always maintained a personal bond, helping them in temporal but particularly spiritual needs, instructing them so that they absorbed his own spirit and dedication to truth. Besides 16aving us a descriptive portrait of Dominic, Blessed Cecilia kept a valuable record of his Roman ministry. She relates that during his visits to the sisters he either "exhorted them to greater spiritual ef-fort or merely sat among them, refreshing them with the charm of his conver-sation and sharing with them the experiences of the day.''2 The range of Dominic's friends outside the order was extensive. Legendary is his beautiful relationship with St. Francis. TheLives of the Brethren records that the two "became but one heart and one soul in God and enjoined their sons to foster this brotherly spirit until the end of time." Dominic befriended men and women converts; family members of people with whom he worked, such as the two daughters of Count Simon de Montfort; women recluses in Rome; bishops and cardinals--even popes. Gregory IX, in the bull of Dominic's canonization dated 1234, wrote that Domin'ic was ' Bede Jarrett, O.P., Life of St. Dominic (New York: Image Books, 1964), p. 122. 2 See M. H. Vicaire, O.P., Histoire de saint Dominique (Paris: Editions du Cerf, 1957), V. 11, pp. 278-279. 34 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 bound to us by ties of deep friendship, before we were raised to the pontificate; his life carried with it in our eyes certain proofs of heroic holiness . We are convinced, as also are our people, that through his prayers God may do us mercy, and that one who was our friend on earth will still in heaven hold us in no less ~ffection. Wherefore. we have determined to add his name to the number of the saints.~ The prominence of friendship in Dominic's life noticeably influenced his early followers. Numerous touching friendships among them are a matter of historical record: Jordan of Saxony and Henry of Cologne, Jordan and Diana d'Andalo, Albert the Great and Thomas Aquinas, and the two Dominicans of particular interest to this article, Catherine of Siena and Raymond of Capua. Theological Atmosphere A certain theological atmosphere has surrounded and, I would say, condi-tioned the development of Dominican friendships throughout the history of the order. This is as it should be, since Dominican life, like Christian life, tends toward fullness of love--primarily with the I ndwelling Divine Persons, but secondarily with all men and women whom God loves. This Christian love, or charity, is the main indicator of vitality and growth in the life of grace. Thomas Aquinas was the first theologian to penetrate into the mystery of charity by way of human experience of authentic friendship, applying his understanding to God's love for us and our love for him.4 A distinctodynamic seems to have resulted, creating the theological atmos-phere to which I refer. Dominicans have looked first to faith for conviction about divine love and friendship with God and God's friends. They have then looked to their personal experience of human friendship with God. They have found, particularly in prayer, that their experience 6f divine friendship served as corrective, if need be, and certainly as goal for their human friendships. These two experiences, the human and divine, mutually illumined and en-riched the other, each according to its competency. I would hazard a guess that a practical result of this theological atmos-phere has been that individual Dominicans were richer or poorer in friend-ships with other Dominicans depending on the age in which they lived. Let me explain. In all ages genuine Dominicans are very discriminating about their friends, owing largely, I think, to this conditioning theological atmosphere. They tend not to let natural instincts for friendship predominate, unless each particular relationship can be harmonized with divine friendship. Authentic charity as their chosen goal must determine everything in their lives. Besides rarely find-ing people enough to their natural liking in the baffling assemblage the Lord calls together in religious communities, their faith and theological orientation ~ See M. H. Vicaire, O.P., Saint Dominique, La vie apostolique Paris: Editions du Cerf, 1965), p~ 90. ¯ See St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, lI-ll, q. 23, a. I. Catherine of Siena and Raymond of Capua / 35 yield such a high ideal that natural potential alone is not enough to satisfy them. But in ages when many members of a Dominican community or province or the worldwide order are deeply one in mind and heart about essential goals and ways of Dominican life, friendships abound, even without much founda-tion in natural similarities. Close bonds are formed on the basis of similarity of thought, love for and dedication to the highest, most valuable, and most permanent of realities. On the other hand, history indicates that Dominican friendships are rare in times of wide diversity in mind, heart, and life concerning essentials of a com-mon calling. In these circumstances, with little in common by nature or by grace, profound friendships are the exception. Masculine-Feminine Complementarity in the Order of Preachers Before focusing on the profound relationship between Catherine and Raymond of Capua, let us look at an additional feature which Dominic built into the very structure of his order, namely masculine-feminine complemen-tarity. In Dominic's mind, the men and women of the order were each to con-tribute something essential to the order's goal of contemplating and spreading sacred Truth. His plan was that the nuns should pray and do penance, and the friars should preach. With this complementary power, no obstacle could pre-vent the accomplishment of goals. To assure from the beginning this complementary feature of the order, Dominic established at Prouille (southern France), in 1207, an arrangement he had known from his years as a canon regular in Spain: the "double-monastery" where friars and nuns lived side by side, each in separate convents yet joined in one common life. Later, wherever he had men, Dominic himself established the feminine counterpart: in Madrid in 1217; in Segovia, Saragossa, and Palencia in 1218; in Rome in 1221. He intended the same in Bologna with Diana d'Andalo and a group of her friends, but died before doing so. This planned masculine-feminine complementarity was emphasized throughout the order by the custom of calling the friars "Preachers" and the nuns "Sisters, Preachers, or Preacheresses.' '~ Saint Catherine, Doctor of Friendship Our context is now sufficient for turning to Catherine and Raymond, two Dominicans who personified in their friendship the masculine-feminine com-plementarity of their order. In her writings, Catherine was such a preacheress that, as noted above, she has been declared a Doctor of the Universal Church. Happily enough, she has See Paul M. Conner, O.P., Celibate Love (Huntington, Indiana: Our Sunday Visitor Press, 1979), pp. 54-56. ~16 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 left explicit teaching on human friendship, particularly :in Chapters 41-44 of her famous Dialogue. Briefly, she sees positive temporal and eternal benefits as well as distinct dangers. An enduring benefit is that we do not lose human friendships at death. Rooted in happiness in God, the saints in heaven also share one another's hap-piness and so color their own beatific joy with "more abundant., delight and contentment." Catherine looks at friendship on earth as "consolation, sweetness, com-fort, and joy." Friends here help one another "grow in grace and virtue," and they provoke each other to honor and glorify the heavenly Father. A serious danger arises from human friendship which begins primarily as spiritual love but slowly becomes predominately sensual. To bring con-secrated persons to this end, Satan will insidiously engender a distaste for religious life, inducing them to search for pleasurable compensations in friendships. Prayer is judged in terms of self-satisfaction and is eventually dropped. "Worldly conversations" become more and more appealing and help stifle former desires for prayer, purity of spirit, suffering for God, and fraternal charity. Why does God permit this outcome? It is because he desires to purify the person from his unrecognized imperfection of loving creatures with a love mainly "passionate" or "sensible." After a friendship becomes established, the person might observe, for example, that his friend pays more attention to others than to him. He experiences disappointment and suffering. There are, then, two possible outcomes. His suffering can bring the deepened awareness that he has been seeking self in a love he thought wholly generous--the Father's hoped-for outcome. This insight will give birth to healthy "distrust of self" and to a more perfect love, charity, for all persons, including his par-ticular friend. This happy result, Catherine asserts, can occur only i.n someone "enlightened by faith," who desires "to walk in the virtues.especially prudence and discernment." A person, however, who is "ignorant in the faith" and not striving to walk in virtue, a person who "has no life," as Catherine puts it, will find the experi-ence of diminishing sensible satisfaction in prayer a great danger. He may well follow Satan's lead and give himself up to "confusion, tedium of mind and sadness of heart, abandoning any virtuous exercises." To such a person, friendship will eventually mean ruin and inner "death." Despite her medieval view and expression of things, Catherine's general teaching on spiritual friendship stands clear: it is good if the result is authentic charity, not self-love. Catherine lived her teaching, filling her short life with an amazing range of men and women friends. One among them was unique. Catherine and Raymond Born of the noble Delle Vigne family of Capua in 1330, Raymond entered Catherine of Siena and Raymond of Capua / ~17 the Dominican Order at age seventeen. During studies at .Bologna he excelled in scripture and patrology before obtaining the lectorate degree in sacred theology. He taught in Dominican priory schools between 1358 and 1362, and for the next four years served as spiritual director to the nuns of his order at the monastery of Montepulciano. In 1367, he was elected prior of Santa Maria sopra Minerva, a principal Dominican community of men in Rome. Raymond was sent to Siena some six years later to be Regent of Studies for the young men of the order in training there. And so it was that this man of extensive education and experience came to meet Catherine in 1374, the consequence of both her praying for a confessor capable of guiding her in her evolving mystical experience, and of the order's appointment of Raymond tO investi-gate and direct her life. Catherine promised Raymond obedience, and after some time of testing her authenticity, he came quickly to understand her and her spirituality. From the beginning they admired each other, Raymond recognizing in Catherine a woman of fine intellect, intense striving for sanctity, and tireless apostolate; Catherine in Raymond, a man of intelligence, tact, breadth of understanding, and development in virtue. Upon this basis their friendship grew firm and profound. Frank admission~ in their writings and biographical events reveal that they came to know each other intimately. Catherine opened her whole soul to Raymond, who by his counsel and authority over her, helped her come to full self-knowledge. In four short years their relationship had become very important to both of them. When the pope called Raymond to Rome in 1377 to be prior again of the convent of the Minerva, Catherine's letters speak of her "torment" and the "particularly hard and painful" experience this first separation from her "intimate friend" occasioned. She asked the Lord, who had "imposed upon me a royal and very poignant trial., to strengthen me in this privation which language is so incapable of expressing.''6 Understandably, news from Raymond alwaysbrought her joy. Later correspondence gives further indications of the quality of their love. Once, when Raymond had turned back from a papal mission to Avignon because of impending ambush, Catherine affectionately reproached him. He misread her intention, and so she wrote: "You have thought that my affection for you had diminished; but you are mistaken . l love you as I love myself; and I have hoped that the goodness of God would also make your affection perfect.-7 In her numerous letters, Catherine customarily addressed Raymond as her ~ See Letter 119 quoted in Johannes Joergensen, Sainte Catherine de Sienne (Paris: Editions Gabriel Beauchesne, 1929), p. 187. 7 Josephine Butler, Catherine of Siena (London: Horace Marshall & Son: 1894), pp. 289-290. 38 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 "beloved Father," or "friend of predilection," or by the pseudonym that so pleased her, il mio Giovanni singolare--presumably in comparison to the Lord's preferential friendship for St. John. During the last months of her life, in extreme weakness and suffering, Catherine wrote a long report of her mystical experience to Raymond,. ad-dressing him lovingly over and over again: "My most sweet Father." In Letter 232 she tells him of a vision wherein she saw .herself entering by love and desire into Christ through the wound in his side, "accompanied by my Father St. Dominic; Giovanni, my friend of predilection; and all my spiritual children." It had been revealed to Catherine that the pope would send Raymond to King Charles of France and that she would die before his return. Raymond relates that she took him into privacy and "talked continuously, her large eyes shining., saying such strong and beautiful words." Often she "grasped his hand and smiled beautifully." Then, accompanying Raymond to the port of Ostia, she "knelt,., and crying, made the sign of the cross.''8 In their few years together, Raymond and Catherine collaborated in many undertakings, helping each other both naturally and supernaturally. Raymond, for example, was cured through Catherine's prayer from the plague which decimated Siena in 1374. He then joined her in relief work among the city's victims. Afterwards they went together in retreat to the tomb of St. Agnes of Montepulciano. Later in Pisa, Raymond was with Catherine in the Church of St. Christina when she received the stigmata. She prayed that the wounds be made invisible, and so it was that Raymond was the only person to bear public witness to the miracle. In 1376, the two met in Avignon in a successful attempt to persuade Pope Gregory XI to return to Rome. They traveled back to the Eternal City together, spending some time there with each other before Raymond's final departure. During their political actiQity, Catherine and Raymond turned to each other for support. She admired his political wisdom, most often following his advice which opened up new dimensions and possibilities to her. Together they promoted the crusades and prayed and worked for the reform of the Church. To counter a fear and reluctance in his character, Catherine would urge Raymond, when events demanded, to act bravely and with courage. In-deed, they cooperated in every way, so much so that one biographer con-cludes: "Catherine and Fra Raimondo were both working for the same ends, and aided each other with a mutual exchange of ideas, energies and counsels.''9 In the realm of grace, Raymond received instruction from Catherine for his spiritual progress. She was ever mindful of him in prayer, and even after See Hyacinth M. Cormier, O.P., Blessed Raymond of Capua (Boston: Marlier, Callahan & Co., 1900), p. 58. Arigo Levasti, My Servant Catherine (London: Blackfriars Publications, 1954), p. 140. Catherine of Siena and Raymond of Capua / 39 her death, Raymond testified that his spiritual stamina came from his con-tinued communications with Catherine in spirit. Before their final parting, Catherine wrote to Raymond: "1 beseech you to collect into your own hands any writings of mine which you may find and the book (the Dialogue); do with all of them whatever you deem is most for God's honor and glory.'''° Even in his overbusy life as Master General, Raymond worked successfully to promote Catherine's canonization, gathered and preserved all her writings, and found time to compose her first biography, a task that took him fifteen years. Dealing principally with her personal rather than public life and bringing to light the most touching incidents and her most characteristic traits, Raymond's is a surprisingly objective account. From it all later biographers have drawn their material. Conclusion Without doubt, in their close knowledge and love of one another and in the cooperative ministry they exercised, Blessed Raymond of Capua and St. Catherine of Siena exemplify the masculine-feminine complementarity of the Dominican Order. Their friendship helped each of them, as well, toward sanctity. We began by saying that Catherine's personal life could be better understood within its Dominican context. It has also become clear that through her own personification of the spirit of St. Dominic and of the charism he gave to the order, the latter itself stands better revealed. Friendship between Dominicans may not be an essential feature of Dominican life, but throughout the last seven hundred and fifty years, few friendships recorded by history surpass those between Dominicans. The order is fertile soil for close ties between persons fired by its goals and fully given to its ways. Could one not even say that the more Dominicans are Dominican, the greater the likelihood, today as in past centuries, of Dominican friend-ships? Letter 102 cited in Cormier, op. cit., p. 134. Service of the Heart: The Quest for Authentic Prayer in Judaism Michael Maher, M.S.C. Father Maher teaches Scripture at the Mater Dei Institute of Religious Education in Dublin. His last article appearin.g in these pages was "Old Testament Poetry and Religious Experience Today" (March, 1979). Father Maher's address is Woodview; Mount Merrion Ave.; Blackrock, Co. Dublin; Ireland. Everyone who has made an effort to develop a meaning,ful prayer-life knows how easy it is to allow regular prayer to become a mechanical ritual rather than a vital and elevating experience. But the danger of allowing prayer and worship to become a perfunctory recitation of hallowed formulae or a conventional performance of traditional rituals is not special to our age. The problem seems to be permanently contemporary, and Jewish religious tradi-tion seems to have been continually on guard against it. Ever since Isaiah sternly chided his co-religionists who honored the Lord with their lips while their hearts were far away (see Is 29:13), the leaders of Israel continued the prophet's task of safeguarding the truly spiritual and per-sonal character of the people's devotional life, and of ensuring that the indi-vidual's prayer should always be animated by a living faith, should always be the expression of sincere love, and should always involve deep feelings and devotion. The rabbis, and their successors right down to our times, used the word kavvanah to express the attitude of interior devotion and personal involvement that should accompany every prayer and every religious observ-ance of the devout Jew. Directing the Mind The word kavvanah which became part and parcel of Jewish devotional 40 Service of Heart / 41 literature is derived from a verb meaning to direct, and implies directing the mind to God, concentrating the attention on the prayers being recited, saying them in a spirit of devotion, and excluding thoughts and feelings that distract one from the experience of encountering God. When one prays with kavvanah one's heart and lips agree, and one's whole person is involved in the awesome act of appearing before one's Creator and Lord. This is what the Talmud' means when it says that "when a man prays he should direct his heart to heaven" (Berakoth 31 a). Another Talmud text declares that if a man does not put his mind to the performance of a religious duty his act is not a religious act at all (Rosh ha-Shanah 28b). These same ideas find another formulation in Pirke Aboth or the Sayings of the Fathers, a compendium of maxims that have been popular among all Jews since the early Christian centuries. Here the sage's warning runs as follows: "When you pray do not make your prayer mere routine, but a plea before God for mercy and grace" (PirkeAboth 2:13). To avoid the routine against which this saying warns the reader, and to minimize the danger of prayer becoming a merely mechanical recitation, the rabbis of the Talmud urged that something new should be introduced into one's prayer every day (Berakoth 29b). These and similar declarations created among the Jews an awareness of the importance of personal involvement in prayer, and by the Middle Ages the statement that prayer without kavannah or concentration is like a body without a soul or a husk without a kernel, had become proverbial. The Shulchan Aruch, a sixteenth-century law book which was regarded by all Jews up to our day as the authoritative guide to religious living, stated that "a little prayer with kavvanah is better than a lot without it." Although this declara-tion did nothing to diminish the prolixity of Jewish prayers or to shorten synagogue services--the Sabbath morning service, for example, lasting more than three hours--the spirit behind it continued to motivate pious Jews in their quest for sincerity and moral earnestness in their prayer. Just as the prophets of old rejected prayer that did not come "from the heart" (Ho 7:14; see Ps 108:1), the.rabbis o f the Talmud regarded prayer and worship as"a ser-vice of the heart" (Taanith 2a; see Sifre on Dt 10:12), and the Jews in general knew that prayer which was not a heartfelt, experience was not prayer at all. ' The word Talmud means "teaching," and is the name given to a body of writings that incor-porates what were at one time the oral traditions of Judaism. The Talmud records the laws that regulated the daily life of the Jews, as well as the general lore, legendary and otherwise, that formed popular Jewish culture. One version of the Talmud developed in Palestine from about the year 200-350 A.D., while another version was formulated in Babylon in the period between 200 and 500 A.D. The'Talmud is a commentary on the Mishnah (see next note), and like the latter is divided into six orders, which in turn are divided into tractates. Both Mishnah and Talmud are quoted according to tractate. Each tractate deals mainly with one special topic. Thus, for exam-ple, the tractate Berakoth--the word means "blessings"--deals largely with prayer matters. 42 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 Calm and Composure However, if the teachers in Israel regarded kavvanah as an indispensable quality of true prayer they realized that it was not something that can be easily acquired or retained. A text which has come down to us from about 200 A.D., and which is recorded in the Mishnah,' declares that "none may stand to say the Tefillah3 save in sober mind" (Mishnah, Berakoth 5:1). The text then goes on to say that "the pious men of old used to wait an hour before they said the Tefillah, that they~might direct their heart to God." The Talmud commen-tators on this passage remarked that one should not say the Tefillah while im-mersed in "idleness or laughter, or chatter, or frivolity or idle talk" since these are obvious impediments to the concentration and composure that should characterize one's communion with the Holy One. So important was this concentration and composure in the eyes of the rabbis that they recom-mended that one should not attempt to pray at all when one is agitated or preoccupied by distracting thoughts. They state, for example, that one should not pray on return from a journey in case one might not be able to give proper attention to prayer (Talmud, Erubin 65b). Another text which dates from the early Christian centuries declares that "One whose dead relative lies unburied before him is exempt from reciting the Shema" and the Tefillah . Because when a man sees his loss before him he is distraught" (Dt Rabbah 9:1). These recommendations convey the idea that one must control one's mind, one's imagination, and one's feelings before engaging in prayer. This teaching of the rabbis was to be expressed by Maimonides (died 1204), the great Jewish philosopher of the Middle Ages, who wrote as follows: Before engaging in pra'yer one must free one's heart from all preoccupation~s, and regard oneself as standing in God's presence. It is therefore proper to sit a while before praying in order to direct the heart and then pray calmly and devoutly. However, the Jewish teachers realized that the proper dispositions for prayer cannot be acquired during a few moments of concentration before ac-tually beginning to pray. The quality of one's prayer is greatly influenced by 2 The Mishnah, literally "repetition," is the name given to a collection of teachings that are attrib-uted to rabbis who lived in the period between 150 B.C. and 250 A.D. These teachings were codified by Judah the Prince in the middle of the third century A.D. However, in the compilation of~his Mishnah, Judah used earlier collections of rabbinic teachings. ~ Tefillah, meaning "prayer," is the name given to the Jewish prayer par-excellence which con-sisted of eighteen benedictions or petitions. The Tefillah was recited three times daily, in the morning, in the afternoon, and in the evening. Those who attefided the synagogue recited it there, while others recited it in private. The petitions of the Tefillah substantially go back to New Testa-ment times. ¯ The word Shema simply means "hear." It is the name given to a prayer traditionally recited in the morning and in the evening by every male Jew. The prayer, or rather confession of faith, begins with the passage, "Hear, O Israel." (Dr 6:4-9)--hence the name--and continues with Dt. 11:13-21 and Nb 15:37-41. Service of Heart / 43 the whole tone of one's daily life. Nahmanides, a thirteenth century Jewish mystic and scholar of Spain, was aware of this when he wrote: When you pray, remove all worldly considerations from your heart. Set your heart right before God, cleanse your inmost thoughts, and meditate before uttering your devotions. Act thus all your days and in all things, and you will not sin. By this course your deeds wil! be upright, and your prayers pure and clean, innocent and devout, and acceptable before God. Know Before Whom You Stand When Amos wished to warn his fellow-Israelites about the punishment that awaited them because of their infidelity he said simply: "Prepare to meet your God!" (Am 4:12). These blunt words were given a broad interpretation and the rabbis applied them to the preparation needed for prayer. Such an interpretation of the text is by no means unreasonable, because prayer is a meeting with God, and as such it cannot be lightly undertaken. Prayer for the rabbis in particular was a matter of what they called chutzpah, that is, an act of, boldness, even of impertinence. For who can have a right to appear before his creator and Lord, to address him, and to expect an answer? Yet the Jewish sages knew that prayer was part and parcel of Israelite life, and that the great heroes of old, like Moses, David, Jeremiah, had all prayed. Therefore, although the rabbis spoke of God as ".the Holy One, blessed be he," and addressed him in prayer as "Lord, King of the Universe," they never hesitated to present their every plea before him. The Talmud teaches explicitly that "'chut:&ah, even against God is of avail," meaning that God cannot resist one who prays, and that the Lord of Glory does not rejec~ his servants who approach him. Yet, lest the chutzpah involved in prayer go beyond boldness and con-fidence, and become insolence and offense, rabbinic tradition was careful to insist on the reverence and respect that should characterize one's attitude in God's. presence. The rabbis recalled tha,t when the Israelites saw the glory of God on Sinai "their souls fled" and the~, trembled in holy fear. If Moses and the generation of the Exodus who had experienced so many manifestations of God's power and goodness were unable to stand with confidence in his presence, how much more should the less privileged generations of the people feel overcome by his might and majesty? Rabbi Eliezer (c. 100 A.D.) gave this advice to his disciples: "When you pray, know before whom you stand, and in this way you will win the future world" (Berakoth 28b). A slightly modified version of this text became known to generation after generation of Jews who read the words "Know before whom you stand" inscribed in many synagogues over the ark which contained the scrolls of the law. Such an inscription reminded the worshippers of the awesome meaning of prayer, and forcefully suggested that all levity and casualness were inappropriate in the praying congregation. Other synagogue inscriptions that conveyed the same message were Jacob's words as recorded 44 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 in Gn 28:17: "How awesome is t his place! This is none ot her than t he house of God, and this is the gate of heaven," or the psalmist's declaration "1 keep the Lord always before me" (Ps 16:8), or the well known verse from Isaiah, "Ho-ly, holy, holy is the Lord God of hosts," which was also to have an important place in Christian churches and in Christian prayers. These, or similar words, were continual reminders of synagogue worshippers that an attitude of flip-pant self-assurance or a casual or indifferent mood are unbecoming in one who genuinely strives to enter into communion with his God. However, lest the dignity of God and the serious nature of prayer frighten off the would-be worshipper, other texts which instill an attitude of trust in God's presence were at the disposal of those who went to the synagogue to pray. The Jerusalem Talmud laid down the general principle that the Jew need never hesitate to approach God in prayer: "When a man is in trouble let him not cry out to the angel Michael or to the angel Gabriel, but to me, and I will answer immediately" (Berakoth 9, 1.13a). The traditional Jewish Prayer Book began with a series of biblical texts which were designed to create an atmosphere of adoration and devotion in the worshipping community. Texts such as "O Lord, I love the habitation of thy house" (Ps 26:8), or "But as for me, my prayer is to thee, O Lord" (Ps 69:13) were calculated to set the scene for serene reflection, and to express an awareness of God's love and goodness without which prayer is impossible. So while the Jew's attitude to God contained an ingredient of reverent fear, and while his approach to his Lord was characterized by a sober recogni-tion of the divine majesty that 'cannot be flouted, his relationship to God was also marked by trust in a personal Being who, far from being an arbitrary despot, is a God in whom power and love are one, and who cares for those who approach him with faith. The Talmud taught that "one cannot deal familiarly with heaven" (Berakoth 33b-34a), but it did not set God outside the reach of the average Jewish believer. Gestures of Reverence In Old Testament times the temple in Jerusalem was for the Israelite "the house of the Lord" (Ps 27:4). The perpetual lamp which burned in the temple (see Lv 24:2f) was for the rabbis of later times a witness to mankind that God dwelt among his people (Talmud, Sabbath 22b), and the religious leaders of Israel strove to instill into the people a deep respect for the place where God had set up his abode. The Mishnah records the following prescription that was framed in order to ensure that the biblical command to "reverence the Sanc-tuary" (Lv 19:30) would be fulfilled: A man should not behave himself unseemly [in the temple area]. He may not enter the Temple Mount with his staff or his sandal or his wallet, or with dust upon his feet, nor may he make it a short by-pass; still less may he spit there (Mishnah, Berakoth, 9:5). Of course the ultimate aim of this prescription Was to honor the God who Service of Heart / 45 was worshipped in the temple~. The rabbis are explicit about this when they state that just as one does not revere the Sabbath but him who commanded the observance of the Sabbath, so one is not to revere the sanctuary but him who gave the commandment concerning the sanctuary (Talmud, Yebamoth 6a-6b). The authors of these rabbinic statements understood the importance of an aura of sacredness that can help to make one conscious of being in the divine presence, and that can help to generate the I~avvanah that makes prayer meaningful. Biblical tradition prescribes no particular postures or movements for prayer. But we do find mention of several physical postures that are meant to give expression to one's spiritual and menta

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

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

Issue 34.1 of the Review for Religious, 1975. This was the first issue edited by Dan Meenan, S.J. ; Review ]or Religious is edited by faculty members of the School of Divinity of St. Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. Published bimonthly and copy-right (~ 1975 by Review [or Religious. Composed, printed, and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $1.75. Sub-scriptiqn U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a year; $11.00 for two years; other countries, $7.00 a year, $13.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order payable to Review ]or Religious in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent Review ]or Religious. Change of address requests should include former address. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor January 1975 Volume 34 Number 1 Renewals, new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to Review for Religious; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Correspondence with the editor and the associate editor together with manuscripts and books for review should be sent to Review for Religious; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsyl-vania 19131. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Review for Religious is published in January, March, May~ July, September, and November on the fifteenth of the month. It is indexed in the Catholic Periodical and Literature Index and in Book Review Index. A microfilm edi-tion of Review for Religious is available from University Microfilm; Ann Ar-bor, Michigan 48106. Copyright © 1975 by Review for Religious. Symposium on Continuing Formation Peter W. Cantwell, O.F.M. Sister Margaret McGovern, R.S.M. Brother Ronald Perry, F.M.S. In the following is given the text of three talks given in March 1974 to the Combined Major Superiors' Conference of Australia. PRINCIPLES OF CONTINUING FORMATION By Peter W. Cantwell, O.F.M. (Father Cantweli is Deputy Head of the Department of Pastoral Studies at Yarra Theol?gy Union in Box Hill, Australia, and a Director of Formation for the Franciscan Fathers. His address is: Franciscan Retreat House; 39 Sackville Street; Kew, Victoria 3101; Australia.) The most obvious question to ask at the beginning of a paper such as this is: Why continuing formation at all? The Need for Continuing Formation The first answer that comes to mind is: There are no professionals in living! We never graduate from the undergraduate status in the katter of life and liv-ing. And the other side of the coin is: It is surprisingly easy to become a drop-out from the university of life, to become someone who feels that he has now arrived and earned a rest and doesn't need to learn any more, and that it is now time to rest on his laurels! Well, in God's dealings with His chosen people, as soon as laurels were seen as things to rest on, then the People of God were broken in some very real way. To be a follower of Christ is a process of con-tinuing conversion of heart; we never have the faith in a static sense, but it is something that grows in us and must keep.growing. Augustine described the process of faith as: Hands groping in the dark. It is very easy, and very human, to give up the groping and find a comfortable niche. So the real question is not: How do we justify the time given to continuingformation? but rather: How do we justify not making it more of a priority than perhaps we do? We should not be asking "Why?" but rather "Why not?" 3 4 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 One of the answers sometimes given to the "Why not?" question is: Someone else has to do my work while I am away, and besides l am not con-tributing to the Province during that time. The second statement is invalid, for surely ! am preparing myself to be better equipped when I come back. And possibly the first statement reflects a certain mania for productivity and an ap-proach to religious life which is over task-centered (work is primary) rather than person-centered (the person is primary). But beyond the more general human need for continuing education and re-education-- being experienced in many fields today quite outside Church circles: teachers, nurses, management, and so forth--there are several very clear reasons from within the Church which emphasize the need for continuing formation. Vatican II specifically challenged religious to respond to the needs of the contemporary world and thereby make themselves more striking and credible witnesses to the gospel. It demanded of religious that they be attentive to the signs of the times and that they speak the good news to the people of this century and not the last. The challenge of Vatican iI was and is virtually a mandate for rebirth, and it was the impetus of Vatican II which stimulated the search for a new identity for religious orders and congregations. This mandate for rebirth was made doubly complicated by the rapidity of the changes occurring in society around. Not only did religious have to catch up on ~a world that was already in front, but on a world that was accelerating at a frightening rate (see Future Shock). So in religious life at the moment we have not only abandoned many struc-tures which have ceased to be useful and begun to search for new horizons--a challenging enough task on its own--but we have to try to accomplish this in a rapidly changing environment. In a recent article Karl Rahner analyzes the whole question of change in reference to religious life and concludes that one of the primary demands on religious today is to cope with a situation of change where many of the familiar landmarks have gone for good. This in itself puts considerable pressure on people: It requires a deeper and more solidly based personal maturity to be able to cope with change than it did to live year after year in a fairly codified, unchanging, structured, more conforming religious life. So if I were to try to sum up the need for continuing formation, the sum-mary would run something like this: --if we want to keep growing as persons, we need it. --if we want to answer the challenge of ,Vatican 1I, we need it. --if we want our witness to keep pace with and be relevant to today's world, we have no other option. Definition With that in mind I would like to try to give a description of how 1 see con-tinuing formation: The facilitation of the continuing growth of the whole person so as to promote a deeper and fuller commitment to the person and mission of Christ. Symposium on Continuing Formation Put perhaps in a more simple form, I do not ~believe that the central goal of continuing formation is to give people a lot more knowledge or produce people who are a lot better informed (though that is part of it, as we shall see), but rather to help the person: believe more in himself, believe more in life, believe more in Christ. This demands a real wrestling with myself in the radical depths of my faith-committed humanity, a continuing conversion~ as I try to inch forward in growth towards a fuller realization within myself Of the fullness of the Person of Christ. IMPLICATIONS Growtl~ and Attitude Change The first term in the description is "growth." Growth is and must be the central issue in continuing formation (or any formation for that matter). And something that is closely associated with the whole notion of growth is attitude change. What is an attitude? In my day-to-day living what determines the way l am ~oing to act in various situations is the set of attitudes which my life ex-periences to date have taught me. An attitude could then be simply described as "the way I perceive a situation," and it determines the way I will behave in a given situation. If my attitude towards change is that it is unnecessary, then my behavior will probably be one of resistance. If my attitude towards myself is one of general insecurity, change will be threatening for me, and 1 will resist again but for a different reason. Attitudes are usually fairly deeply engrained, they are a distilled product of my life experiences to date, they are very much tied to the center of my per-sonhood, "where I am at now." So they change only slowly and with much ef-fort. Attitude change is usually described as a threefold process, involving: firstly, beginning to let go of the old outlook and behaviors ("unfreezing"); secondly, looking around for a new frame of reference and new behavior models ("changing"); and thirdly, trying to solidify the newly acquired outlook and behavior so that they become a permanent part of the person's functional repertoire ("refreezing"). I would like to group the,first set of principles for continuing formation un-der these various dimensions of attitude change. '° Unfreezing" The first thing we are asking the person to undertake in attitude change is to venture out of an accustomed way of acting and to look around for new possibilities. Any person does this only with great caution, very tentatively, and. in an atmosphere of trust and acceptance, and is more likely to be too slow rather than too fast in the process: Hence: 6 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 If we are aiming at real growth, we can expect varying degrees of resistance, because we are asking persons to venture out into strange territory. In this venture it is very necessary that I see the need to move and am willing to take the risk involved. It is no good if you are trying to drag me along by the scruff of the neck. So: We cannot force people to grow or be renewed. A lot of time must be spent in eliciting the molivation Io want to grow. The effectiveness of a program depends to a large extent on how open the people participating are to the goals of the program, I feel it must be a terribly strong temptation for a superior, often out of sheer desperation, to use a large amount of moral and even physical pressure on those who are dragging their renewal heels to do programs that they simply do not want to do. Well, they might learn some new information, but they cannot possibly grow unless they want to. Father Nebreda, in his framework of catechesis, speaks of pre-evangelization: a kind of remote preparation for the proclamation of the good news. I think we need a type of pre-evangelization in the renewal work, almost like watering the ground before the plough comes along. There is a basic psy-chological axiom which says: People cannot be taught or learn who feel at the same time that they are being attacked. I feel that at times we need to spend more time watering the ground, gently listening to people and freeing them from the threat that they are about to be put through the compulsory sausage machine. Quite frequently we might find a surprising willingness under the camouflage of opposition. The next principle is perhaps self-explanatory: The longer a person has been in a relatively unchanging structure, the more resistance there is likely to be to change. Behavior patterns that have been in operation for a longer period of time, especially with people who are less secure in themselves, tend to become such a part of the person that change, while dearly Wished for, should not be expected. 1 often feel that the best and most that we can do for such people is to create opportunities for growth, encourage participation, but be open to the possibility that change may not be likely and that psychologically the person will remain where he or she is. The superior is then faced with the difficult situation of trying to find a niche for him which will be meaningful and enable him to feel that he is contributing something worthwhile, which will not de-mand change, but at the same time not create unnecessary hardships for those in the community who are trying to change. Quite a job! The last principle in this section is one which is very important: Real growth involves risk-taking and pain and tension, and may include the need for special help for a period of time. Sometimes, no matter how well one prepares a program and how well one screens people for it, an individual comes along who cannot cope with it and Symposium on Continuing Formation / 7 wl~o suddenly finds that he needs specialized help. (l would evenlike to extend the.principle and say that at some of the more critical phases of our individual growth most of us need something more than the ordinary help!) But to get back to renewal. In our experience, some superiors tend to overreact to this temporary inability of one of their subjects to cope. Well, if casualties con-stantly happened with the one program then one should ask some serious questions about the program. But an equally valid approach where real growth is concerned might see such a time of passing personal conflict as a not-to-be-unexpected factor of real efforts to grow, and if rightly handled by the right person such conflicts can be catalysts for very real growth. In fact we grow only through tension and conflict. And it could be far better for such tension and conflict to come to the surface in a controlled situation such as a program rather than when the person is busily engaged in the normal commitment to the apostolate. I am saying that to want "growth without casualties" is unreal and is perhaps wanting to avoid one of the unavoidables in growth. "Changing" We now come to the second stage of attitude change. Having tried to let go of an accustomed way of acting, the person is left in a state of confusion or doubt. That is an uncomfortable feeling, and gives rise to a strong motivation to resolve it. There are two ways that the person will usually try to do this. The first is to try to have a clear idea of the new goal that he is heading for, to seek to try to establish a new conceptual framework, to find ideas and ex-planations which are more in accord with life as he now sees it: lectures, books, reflection, the experience of others, and so forth--all the ways that we can find things out. He is looking for a new vision as to where he is heading. It is here that we treat of the place of new information in continuing education: Input and new information is an essential element of growth, but it can be, and often has been, wrongly made equivalent to growth. I think we all know the positive need and real benefits of new information, so just let me state some of the things that worry me about overemphasis on in-formation. Knowing does not necessarily by any means mean doing, and knowing how I should change does not mean that I am any closer to actually changing. I believe that in the early days of renewal within the Church we made the error of thinking that if we could get the latest lecturer with the latest idea on the latest subject then all would be well and we would immediately transform our orders and congregations. Such a notion of growth is one-sided. Know.ledge is essential, it provides a necessary frame of reference for un-derstanding experiences, and it elicits motivation for further growth. But the identification of knowledge with growth, as I think often happened in the older type of seminary training, can have unfortunate consequences. From the in-dividual's point of view it tends to produce the person who can mouth the latest I~ / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 catchword (be it "caring and sharing" or "togetherness" or whatever) without there being any internal experience to go with it and make sense of it. And from the point of view of the congregation in the context of renewal, it leads to disappointment and cynicism because the expected fruits are not forthcom-ing. But to get back to the positive side, the first need of someone who is trying to change is to have a real and valid frame of reference so that he can see and understand where he is going. A second need to help him in this crucial mo-ment of change is to see this new vision realized in some way or another in the lives of significant people around him. Such significant people would include those who are trying to inject the new ideas (fine words without example are dry), but more particularly the people back hgme, the members of the com-munity and province, and possibly most particularly the leadership in the province. So we say: Change of attitude is greatly assisted where the leadership in a province (overall, not just the provincial or general) approaches some kind of exemplification of the goals of renewal. "Refreezing" The final stage of attitude change is the "refreezing," which simply means that we try to make sure that the acquired learnings persist and become a nor-mal part of the person's behavior. And here the whole environment of a com-munity and a province plays a very significant role. It is not unusual for people to undergo some change, but not be able to maintain it. Many mental hospital patients, for instance, recover in hospital where they are away from the interaction with members of their family or other persons who played an important part in bringing about their breakdown. On leaving the hospital in a reasonably healthy state ofbody and mind they go back to the old context of relationships which promptly brings about a relapse. Either the behavior patterns were not deeply engrained enough, or the environment and atmosphere were so negative as to be destruc-tive. Hence the principle: If growth changes are to be lasting, there is need for a supportive environment and con-tinuing reinforcement. An extreme example of this would be: a religious is removed from an en-vironment which is hostile to any change, given a short intensive program which requires a lot of reintegration on the personal level, and is then returned to the same situation with no follow-up! The more intensive aspects of personal renewal need to be prepared for, nurtured during the moments of change, and solidified through support and follow-up. In other words there needs to be an atmosphere of renewal in a prov.ince, renewal cannot be considered a "oncer" which we now get all our people through and then get back to normal life and work. Some of our friars reflect this wrong attitude when they now say: "1 have done my renewal!" Symposium on Continuing Formation / 9 The Whole Person The second aspect of our definition is that continuing formation is meant to promote the growth of the whole person. I would like to touch on a couple of principles very briefly. The first principle really sums up two things I have said already: Real renewal in a province requires an atmosphere which is "person-centered" as con-trasted to "task-centered" (excessive concern with productivity). If renewal is an urgent need today, then it must come first in practice as well as theory. One of the tensions that many religious whom 1 am counseling are facing today is that numbers in the congregation are dwindling, the same number of commitments is being maintained, and so people are being stretched beyond their elastic limit., and break. That is almost the direct opposite of the at-mosphere which is needed for real renewal. If people are going to be able to have the time and energy necessary to do some real personal reflection and reintegration, to keep pace with changing life today, and to survive in their religious commitments, then possibly they should be doing less than they were before--at least till they do some catching up! The second principle has ]already been touched on too: The whole person--intellectual, spiritual, human--must be considered if renewal is to be lasting: I feel the emphasis has been something like this: the intellectual has been overcatered for, the spiritual has been undercatered for, and the whole human dimension has often been completely neglected. Enough has been said on the intellectual area and the need for information. What of the spiritual? The last part of the description of continuing formation says.~that the overall and primary goal of renewal is "to promote a deeper and fuller commitment to the person and mission of Christ." The faith-prayer-Christ dimensior~ must ob-viously be the air we breathe when talking of renewal, for nothing makes sense outside of this framework. Today, at the very grass roots of religious con-gregations, there is a real awakening of a need for spiritual direction and counseling, .for depth of prayer and the need for reflection--maybe because these have been partly left out of some renewal efforts to date! On the human level, the level of normal personal maturing, the level of adequate preparation for the various stages of life (especially the later stages), the level of the development of a sense of self-worth and self-value, the whole field of a psy-chology and theology of leisure and the creative use of leisure time, we have often been abysmally lacking. But the other papers will fill this out more. The third principle: The whole of each person must be considered if renewal is to be lasting. To achieve this the different members of a province need to have access to a variety of programs. The simple point 1 am making by way of principle is this: In any province we have a variety of people with a variety of needs: the young and the old, those 10 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 who have done a lot of renewal and those who have done little, those brought up under the older formation programs and those under the newer, those who need pre-evangelization and those who need follow-up, those who need something pretty solid for a longer period of time, those groups with special needs (for example, superiors), programs for a single community, coedu-cational programs, intellectual versus experiential programs, and so forth. We cannot hope to find an ultimate program that will suit everyone, that we can put them through, and then imagine that all is done. Finally: A n atmosphere of renewal in a province, and a variety of possible programs to cope with differing needs, is more likely to avoid the dangers of polarization (where few people get a lot and the rest nothing). I feel that a province should, as far as possible, move as a whole,.but within a very broad unity. Pluralism within a broad unity. That might mean that some members need to do less and move more slowly, and others more and move more quickly. A variety of programs helps to spread the leaven as far as possi-ble and avoid dangerous splitting. Conclusion By way of conclusion, I would like to do no more than mention three broad principles which might help us to be as realistic, and even as optimistric, as possible about religious life today: Because growth is a slow and painful process, we should not expect too much too soon from any person or program. Conflict is functional: that is, growth occurs only in a situation of reasonable conflict and tension. In the absence of all ~tension a group stagnales. One of the goals of renewal should be to create a wise pluralism within a broad unity so as to be as open as possible to whatever direction the Spirit moves in. CREATIVE RENEWAL AND RELIGIOUS WOMEN By Sister Margaret McGovern, R.S.M. (Sister Margaret McGovern, R.S.M., is Director of the Social Work Department at the Mater Hospital; Pacific Highway; Crows Nest, N.S.W. 2065; Australia. She is also deeply involved in renewal work for religious throughout Australia.) The previous paper described some of the principles which must be considered when offering and organizing continuing education programs for members of religious congregations. The next paper by Brother Perry outlines in detail how some of the existing programs attempt to meet these needs and shows where there are gaps and overlapping. Here we should like to attempt to tease out some of the difficulties in renewing the total person, with particular application to women religious. Programs designed to stimulate the process of renewal in Symposium on Continuing Formation the individual should not be confused with renewal itself. The latter is the work of the Spirit in the human heart. Programs of renewal are merely predisposing stimuli to the person to enter into the process of rendering himself more aware and able to appreciate and cooperate with the action of the Spirit. Multiple Options of Renewal Stimuli A very basic and fundamental principle here is the necessity of keeping a wide variety of programs continually open as options for a variety of people. We all need education and continuing formation in all aspects of total Chris-tian living. We need to learn and learn again, so that we may deepen and broaden our commitment to the truth who is Christ. Some of us need depthing in one particular area at one stage of our lives, and something quite different at another. Where people's needs are concerned we cannot have a neat, chronological, tightly-boxed sequence of renewal programs. For instance, it seems quite reasonable to presume that people who have been out on the apostolate for fifteen years might like a fairly intensive period of renewal. But even within that one group, what each wants and what each gets from any given program will, predictably, be quite different. (Incidentally~ the attitude behind phrases that one often hears today; "They've had their renewal," "She has done her renewal," betrays a very superficial outlook. Renewal must be a life's task.) Pluralism of opportunity is essential in any attempt to provide stimulus for an individual's growth and conversion.-Conversion is ultimately an individual phenomenon between God and the pers.on concerned: The community does play an important role in terms of support, atmosphere, and encouragement, both humanly and spiritually; but ultimately each individual must face his own conversion alone and against the background of his own individual uniqueness. So there can be no package deals for conversion. Nonetheless, our social condition means that stimuli to growth and renewal will often be provided by some kind of organized course, retreat, and so forth. Optimal Size of Programs Probably the most effective programs are those offered on a small group basis where the chances of remaining uninvolved or untouched are lessened. If a course is offered on a small group basis there is far more likelihood that it can be tailored to the needs of this particular group of people, thus lessening the frustration of those who have already been through a particular experience but are asked to do it again "for the sake of those who haven't done it yet." A small group renewal experience is more likely to get to where the person is at, and to be real formation as well as imparting a certain amount of information. Both of these elements are essential, as the other two papers emphasize. Types of Programs The kinds of continuing formation programs which might well operate for 12 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 the renewal of the total person over a period of years would include the following: updating in some of the key areas of modern theology; exposure to a variety of experiences in prayer forms; opportunities for indepth spiritual renewal, as, for instance, in varied forms of retreats (small groups, private, directed, communal), time in a house of prayer, individual direction; education in methods, forms, and process of community sharing; programs which foster self-awareness in relationship to others; workshops which assist the superior to learn to operate comfortably and.effectively in that role; some education on an even broader basis, for instance, some psychology, sociology, history and so forth, on the principle that some understanding of human and social phenomena lessen the threat of change and adaptation. Some of these programs are more directly spiritual in nature, others are more oriented to the development of the full, human person. Some will be more pertinent to a person at one stage of her growth and others at another. But both are necessary to grow into full maturity in Christ. Combining Resources A major problem is worth mentioning here. Organizationally it is very dif-ficult for major superiors, particularly if working merely with members of their own orders, to continually provide such a wide variety of programs as is suggested here. Intercongregational cooperation would seem to offer a partial solution. While it is quite true that it is important for some of the.renewal ex-periences to be assimilated just with members of one's own congregation (for example, a re-discovery of the charism of the founder), many of the other programs suggested could well be offered on a broader basis, particularly those that are information-oriented. And while major superiors are being mentioned, another point could be made: that it is very important for the major superior not only to arrange programs for the other sisters, but insofar as possible to at-tend and participate and thus model what renewal is all about. Is The Latest The Best? One of the less fortunate attitudes around in the renewal field today is that of equating the latest with the best. There are many courses and programs and experiences provided in the whole field of renewal, and they tend to wax and wane in cycles of popularity, and as the need determines. But they are all'valid and even necessary in the right context.~Choice made on the basis of"the latest is the best" can be not only unhelpful but be positively retrogressive, as for in-stance in the case of a person d6ing a fairly advanced program without the necessary preparation. One of the most recent renewal booms has been in the area of directed retreats: six to eight days, thirty days, and so forth. One cannot avoid the im-pression that a great number of sisters are enrolling to do one of these because it is the latest renewal "must." Speaking to this subject, David Fleming says: Symposium on Continuing Formation The accomplishment of having spent thirty days in prayer can easily be set up as a false criterion for determining who the really renewed religious are. It is not so much a con-scious putdown of the "have nots"., but rather a whole atmosphere is being created for the desirability and even necessity of being among this new elite in order to be the good religious (See David Fleming, S.J., "The Danger of Faddism and the Thirty-Day Retreat," Review for Religious, 1974, p. 97.) What we must try to do is to continually provide a wide variety of renewal opportunities to satisfy a factually wide variety of needs, including the latest types of programs but not overemphasizing these. It is a subtle and ticklish thing not only to spread the canvas wide but to present the various facets of the canvas objectively, so that those who are beginning a renewal process in their lives will begin at the right place, without at the same time feeling inferior to or outmastered by those who have been on the path for some time. And perhaps one of the more difficult and time-consuming tasks of the major superior is to keep encouraging each member to continually grow from where she is at and in whatever way she feels best. What of the Non-Participants? We need to make sure that renewal stimuli can get to all--or maybe we should say that all have the opportunity of getting tO renewal. Over recent years there has been a spate of workshops in the areas of personal awareness, communication skills, and so forth. These are good and necessary and serve a specific function. But what of the sisters who are not touched by these and who are perhaps frightened of becoming involved in such a course? We have left behind, in many cases, the second novitiate concept and taken on four to six week renewal programs. These are usually quite eclectic in terms of offering a broad smorgasboard of renewal possibilities. But not all will be touched by these either. What of them? For major superiors this differential rate of participation can be worrying, as it can seem that the more they supply to their communities the more it looks like a case of "to those who have, more will be given." And the worrying other side of the coin is the impression that the fearful ones are falling further behind. It is unfortunate if renewal becomes a cause of polarization, and yet, in many communities, it appears to be just that. Creative Leisure One of the questions that needs more attention in renewal today, especially for female religious, is the whole question of education for some form of creative leisure. The appreciation of and provision for Ieisure was by tradition abysmally lacking in many women's congregations. This has no doubt been responsible for a lot of the maladjustment and discontent of many women religious who were trained in and lived under that system. We are not talking about an easier way of life! We are speaking of the opportunity, and the regular opportunity, to just stop and be, to be able to get out of and away from 14 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 the pressure of the normal workaday job, to restore, revitalize, and refresh one's inner body and spirit., in whatever way each individual best enjoys do-ing that. Leisure is the chance for me to experience myself in relation to myself, others, and creation. Some appreciation and cultivation of leisure is very necessary to cultivate prayer in depth. We are still very heavily tainted by the good old Protestant work ethic of productivity, consumerism, materialism, getting the job done even if it means working ourselves into the ground doing it. And often we do just that and ruin even our productive hours of work ,because we are too exhausted or dried up. Leisure includes simple things like taking exercise--according to the medical profession a very healthy activity. How many women in your com-munity get any regular creative exercise: playing tennis, squash, golf, swim-ming, doing yoga, going on bush walks, and so forth? Women by their nature are creative: someone cooks nicely, sews beautifully, paints, and so forth. But how often do they get the chance to do it just for the sheer joy of doing it? And in the leisure field there are limitless possibilities in adult education courses: pottery, basket weaving, literature, history, and so forth. In many cases for women religious this part of their lives has been neglected for so long that. they almost have a need to be educated towards leisure and the creative use of such. And this is where leadership is needed in terms of providing opportunity for and positively encouraging women religious towards developing themselves in this area. Conclusion And that brings us back to where we started from: that renewal can only be thought of in terms of a continual, ongoing, lifelong process embracing the whole Christian person, body, mind, and spirit. That means trying to keep the body fresh, the mind informed, and the spirit as close to the Lord as possible; These conditions assist the woman religious today to witness to the simple gospel message of the good news of Christ in a world where the only constant is change, where adaptation is continually being demanded of her, and where the pressure on her to really be something for modern man is steadily increasing. RENEWAL AND CONTINUING EDUCATION: WHAT IS HAPPENING AND WHAT HAPPENS? By Brother Ronald Perry, F.M,S. (Brother Ronald Perry has contributed much to the renewal of religious life in Australia and is the Director of the Sydney Archdiocesan Institute of Counselling. His address is: Marist Brothers; 16 Dorahy Street; Dundas, N.S.W. 2117; Australia.) We may distinguish forms of continuing education under three possible headings: remedial, retraining, and continuing stimulation. By "remedial" we mean any form of continuing education that involves updating in all its variations, where, the attitude change that we all vaguely call renewal is'en- Symposium on Continuing Formation couraged or stimulated or begins to take place. The religious life document from the council is subtitled the "appropriate renewal" or the "adaptation and renewal" of religious life. Most renewal programs are heavily geared in this direction with the stress often on what is "new." By "retraining" we mean the process where we either prepare a person or a group for a new role or task or, without such specific goals, strive to develop the talent and potential of individuals or groups. This is basically a process in-volving a good deal of time and depthing. This retraining may be developmen-tal, and aimed therefore at improving the potential of a person in a rather general way; or specific, where it aims to prepare a person for a specific task or role, such as novice master, spiritual director, counselor, and so forth. In either case it involves much forward planning, consultation with the person con-cerned, a reasonably clear statement of aims, and often withdrawal from pres-ent activities for a time. By "continuing stimulation" we mean the type of program where we aim to call persons to continuing conversion, to recall the challenge and the grace of the gospel gift and call, and to depth the experience of the faith again. This we must do always. But in particular we must ensure that it can happen at every stage of a person's passage through life. This type of program is also always "new" but in a different sense of new to what we were referring to abo','e: it is the newness of the gospel and its constant challenge to us. RENEWAL IS OFTEN REMEDIAL Factors in Renewal Firstly, it is important to reflect on where renewal leads us and what is in-cluded. As we try to analyze the different aspects of renewal programs and the different sorts of skills and knowledge that are required for us to begin to change in a very fundamental way, three distinguishable aspects emerge: (a) We need a great deal of new intellectual knowledge that will enable us to establish new cognitive frames of reference to help us think with the Church. Specifically today this means becoming up-to-date in thinking with the Church, in, for instance, the whole new emphases in dogmatic theology that have emerged since the Council. Again, moral theology is a particularly impor-tant area where a fuller understanding of sin, reconciliation, penance, law, and authority is very important to enable us to move away from an approach to morality that was geared primarily to laws and "do's and don't's?' Recent developments in Scripture, what it means and what its central importance is in the life of the Christian, must be a vital area of concern in all our attempts at renewal. (b) We need a new capacity to share in community. This second aspect of renewal seems to consist in the development of a real capacity to share with others and to support others in community (in whatever situation that might happen to be), to share one's faith vision with others, and to communicate in charity and truth. This has been one of the great riches of the renewal in the 16 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 Church over the last several years. It reflects something that is happening in society at large, and has led us, by comparison to older forms of religious life, to a deeper understanding of the Church as community. (c) We need a new possibility of self-understanding and self-awareness before God. It has always been said that real renewal is personal renewal, and one aspect of the movement away from structures is that each person is called and challenged to look at himself more closely, more truly, and to face himself before God in a way that is more genuine (see Review for Religous, 1974, pp. 78-84 for an illustration of this). These three areas involve great variety and richness, and their attainment also means overcoming some difficulties, as for instance the development of a particular climate and particUlar skills. But it would seem that we have no choice in facing all three of these areas. The Church frequently calls us to this. Even if we would escape such a call, the pressure of our own contemporaries on us to become more effective witnesses of the Christ of the Gospels leaves no other alternative. The Process of Renewal It is difficult to analyze what we actually expect from all sorts of renewal programs. Perl~aps the following various expectations. schema might tie together some of the Personal self-awareness P A W Listening PRAYERFUL R C I (ableto meet) Community Development A T T Loving HOPEFUL Y I N (tolerant) New frames of reference E O E Relevant COMPASSIONATE (knowledge) R N S (understandable) S Development in the three areas of personal self-awareness, community, and new knowledge will result, if it happens properly, in a new understanding of and new capacity for prayer, but understood in a very different way to "saying prayers." Such a development will take time, and many religious have agonized through the difficulty of abandoning some prayer, shortening their time of prayer, rejecting some forms of prayer, finding some prayers meaningless, and so forth. The above diagram is not meant to imply any miraculous immediacy of results; it is more a question of what does happen frequently and what can happen for all of us. And if our prayer becomes more truly genuine, it should appear as a more credible witness in the action that is the apostolate both inside one's own community and beyond it. In that apostolate, then, we shall be relevant, what we say will be un-derstandable, we will be able as St. Peter suggests to have an answer for those who question us about the faith. We will also be more loving people in that we are more tolerant of others, more open to them however different they may be to us in belief or way of life. And we will be listening people because, with such a message, we are' able to meet them. Therefore, the person who is renewed by whatever process would be seen as Symposium on Continuing Formation prayer-ful, because in a real way in contact with the Lord and expressing that directly; hope-ful, because he is able to offer the world its only hope of un-derstanding meaning in life and seeing hope in what we live; and com-passionate, because able to live with and suffer with and be with fellow humans as Jesus, incarnate on earth, was able to be. Some Principles for Renewal Some principles that apply in the renewal of the whole person would include the following: (a) Development in one area without the others can be problematic. For in-stance, to be offered a solid diet of new understanding of theology without an additional capacity to understand self and to share with others in community, can produce isolated and confused people. On the other hand, to offer people considerable personal development through counseling, group work, and even spiritual direction, without an adequate understanding of the moral and dogmatic principles that are relevant can also lead to confusion. (b) Very few people are too rigid for some change. We often despair in renewal programs and cause polarization because we feel that many people are too rigid to change. I think we need to remember that we have come from a very structured situation and a very structured upbringing. This is probably true of ordinary Catholics, but particularly true of religious, and it is a slow process to change that older frame of reference~ A few people will be too.rigid in character structure to change, but this is the exception rather than the rule and usually results from some personality difficulty. But we should not give up on people too easily. Rather, as suggested by Father Cantwell in the earlieroar-ticle, we should be able to cushion the demands for chahge so that people are asked only to do a small amount at~a time and in ways that can be seen as valid and true for them. (c) This principle of renewal is really a corollary of the last: it is vital not to omit any group. It is very easy to concentrate on the younger ones and the pliable middle age ones! But this is just another way of reinforcing possible polarization. (d) Often, in the initial stages of renewal, it will be important to encourage and help develop some key leaders in order that through these people and their efforts the process will permeate the whole group. This is not the only possible method, and many successful programs have begun with a gathering of the whole province and operating on the principle of unity. However, the latter is not always easy to carry out. In any case, some special attention will need to be paid to encourage leaders to act as bridge-builders: that is, to encourage those who can see what needs to be done, to help them do it with as little aggression and hostility as possible, and with as much resp.ect for each age group and each person as possible. (e) Finally, and perhaps most obviously, renewal is written first in the lives of men. Persons leading renewal must be seen as credible. 1~ / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/I Types of Programs As we have said already, many types of programs with varied goals are usually gathered together under the one head of renewal. For instance, many a "month of renewal,' is based largely on lectures (knowledge), but takes place within the context of a large group of members of the same community or con-gregation, so that the whole dimension of community development and the challenge of deeper self-awareness become very significant elements of the overall experience. On the other hand, some courses in moral theology, while focusing prin-cipally on lectures and new information, cannot but challenge one's personal understanding of conscience, sin, law, and so forth, and therefore include a good deal of the self-awareness aspect of renewal, though less of the com-munity element. A number of courses on spirituality and spiritual theology are very deep challenges to personal awareness and depthing, would include some know-ledge, but may play down the community dimension a good deal. The in-dividually directed retreat is a good example of this. Some types of community development sessions that focus on group in-tei'action seem to consist mainly of an ensemble of what we have listed as com-munity development and self-awareness. Some sessions that involve training in communication skills would appear to concentrate almost entirely on com-munity development. It might be worth noting here that in the final section labeled "Continuing Stimulation," what has been variously called self-understanding, self-awareness, and so forth becomes self-appraisal, self-examination, self-depthing, the theological experience of conversion and reconciliation . . . because obviously the "self" part means "self before God." RETRAINING: LEARNING THROUGHOUT ONE'S ENTIRE LIFE In the first place we have already mentioned the obvious need for special training for special appointments. We could well ask ourselves if we are always prepared to give sufficient time to this, to look far enough ahead, and to prepare people sufficiently for the actual program. Secondly~ there is the obvious necessity for us to develop the talents that God has given us. But this is a somewhat paradoxical question in Christianity. Two quotations from the Holy Father illustrate this. The first is from Populorum progressio: In the design of God, every man is called upon to develop and fulfill himself, for every life is a vocation. At birth, everyone is granted, in germ, a set of aptitudes and qualities for him to bring to fruition. Their coming to maturity, which will be the result of education received from the environment a0d personal efforts, will allow each man to direct himself towards the destiny intended f9r him by his Creator. Endowed with intelligence and freedom, he is responsible for his fulfillment as he is for his salvation. The second quotation is from a recent talk by the Holy Father on religious life (5/11/72): Symposium on Continuing Formation Let us be clear: the form of religious life must not sacrifice natural talents or personal charisms. It must serve the vocation of each person. And it is a very heavy task for you, Superiors, to see to it that each of your sisters may develop in it, may be treated with con-sideration, be recognized and loved, and be able to bring the best of herself to her com-rhunity and to the world. However, the paradox of the Gospel, which you, more than others, are called to accept :fully, must not be forgotten: "For whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it" (Mr 16:25). Be assured: this love ofthe Lord, lived to the extent of renunciation of yourselves, cannot remain without fruit. Bringing you deep joy and the hope of eternal life, it will mysteriously open up for souls the way to the God of love. Yes, in this sense, do not fear to be fully religious. This is a problem for each Christian as he or she faces life. In religious life it is both the vow of obedience and our commitment to each other in com-munity that are necessary constraints to our "self fulfillment." This is a reality of our commitment, and any renewal that refuses to face it is utopian and un-christian, and certainly is not closely connected with religious life and the demands, both personal and apostolic, that it makes. However this is not to say, as the Holy Father emphasizes, that we can afford to "despise natural talents or personal charisms." A third aspect of retraining we hear voiced in all circles today, but par-ticularly among professional people: the necessity for commitment to lifelong education. The phenomenon of professional obsolescence is becoming in-creasingly frequent. Do we realize on the merely practical level how many religious feel a bit obsolescent? Finally, we may need a structure of some kind to facilitate retraining: for instance a committee, a director of studies, to take close consultation with per-sons about their potential and hopes. Again, we are not advocating "doing one's own thing" and that that is the only, or even primary, goal in retraining. Any such studies are obviously done in the context of the whole province, its commitments, and its capacities. (For a general treatment of the various aspects of continuing education, see Review for Religious, 1972, pp. 226-36; 1973, pp. 1325-35.) The Needs of the Different Age Groups The needs of the different age groups must be considered in all retraining programs, It may be useful here to highlight .some of the needs that seem to surface most readily in th~ religious life context. The Young The young have a special need for ideals: frames of reference that point high for them and help them to make the effort to take on the mind of Christ by means of the life style and prayer structures that are offered them. We must be very careful today not to structure too much for the young. But it is worth noting that many novices and junior professed these days complain about not being clear enough on what is expected of them. While we do not wish tO return to an older, highiy structured framework, this demand makes a valid point that all of those concerned with formation must take into account. 20 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 Next, and perhaps even more obviously, the young need welcome-- welcome from the person in charge of their formation and welcome from the total community. They do not belong and they are aware of this. To a small extent they accept it but it is a great thrill for them gradually to come to be-long to the group they have joined. (Could I point out here the need for them to learn their traditions, the traditions both in their origins, and in the local history of the group which they are joining?) Under this same heading they need reasonable support from each other, coupled with the chance to build up a community, to recognize others, and allow them to be different. They also need, and this is perhaps stressed less, independence. They need to gradually learn the solitude and the capacity to be alone, a learning very fun-damental in growth towards real celibacy. This includes the capacity to gradually face themselves. We cannot demand this too early of the young, and ttie excessively long periods of silence in older novitiates were not always help-ful in this regard. On the other hand, an excessive stress on community may not be the answer either. The young also need a forum to work out their questions. They will ask some of these aggressively, and people in formation know to their cost that they have to accept and allow for much of this questioning these days. But while they do allow for it, they do not need to become doormats! All these various needs demand some new goals and ideals, some values that are chosen and followed, some structures that are agreed on and kept to but that are real and relevant. It also assumes that psychologically these y.oung religious are very much on the way to self-discovery, even though the journey has just begun. Early Apostolic Life In their early apostolic life many of the above needs continue with perhaps these additions: They need to acquire professional skill and competerice. This is absolutely essential today and is strongly emphasized in Perfectae caritatis. They need to grow in the capacity to help each other in community. Sometimes the pressure for growth in professional skill crowds this out a little. Like all young people serving in the apostolate, they need the chance and the help to take initiatives, to strive, to succeed, to be recognized, to take risks, to fail, and to be supported by the older members through all this. The task of the older ones is not to withdraw and let them "fail or succeed," but to support them with their maturity and experience, and not to let themselves (the older ones) lose confidence in their role just because they do not have all the bright ideas ~or the quickness of thinking of some younger people. Their maturity, their balance, and their experience are things that the young simply cannot have or do without. They need continuing idealism, encouragement and assistance to center their lives on Christ and to grow towards Him (Eph 4:14). This assumes that Symposium on Continuing Formation they gradually become accustomed to "belonging" to Christ in this community with which they are gradually becoming identified. Middle Age At the present time some of the skills needed and the qualities to be ac-quired by the middle-aged religious would include the capacity to lose hold of some of their acquired frames of reference and to adopt new ones. This is often quite difficult for some middle-aged religious. It is so frequent to hear a major superior say that it is not the old ones who make changes difficult, but those in their forties and fiftie!! Such a change of attitude includes the whole process of "unfreezing" that Father Cantwell has referred to in his earlier paper in this symposium. Then there is the need of the ability to face oneself, with the inevitable feel-ing of failure that often becomes so clear at this stage--a fairly common feel-ing, but that does not make it any easier, is it not also a vital introduction to the meaning of redemption? Such a person also needs the ability to free himself or herself from excessive serf-preoccupation (again not an easy task), to see others as other, whether young or old, and to experience some inner unity. There is also the need to continue to use leisure properly, creatively. And it seems vital at this stage to receive, and to know how to receive, close personal friendship and support, and to be able to give this same support to one's peers. In later middle age some of the above needs may well continue but we may add: the capacity still to use one's potential to the fullest possible extent (it is so easy at this stage to "retire" too early); to appreciate one's own richness at a time of life when that has to mean more than one's capacity to work and to produce; and to have and to use leisure. Another vital feature of this time of life, which is perhaps just as true of earlier middle age, is the need for an opportunity to have a group situation where these personal issues can be face~t. At this stage of life it is almost in-evitable that one must face oneself deeply and personally, and as this often needs to be done with another or with others, supportive group situations are really necessary. This group may also feel the need of separate courses where they are not under pressure from the young or old. Old Age Religious at this stage need to be valued and helped to belong. It is easy for them to feel "out of it." They need to know that the values they have lived by are not abandoned. Often they are reasonably open to change, but only on con-dition they know clearly that the essentials are not denied. Such affirmation and support are an important gift that we owe to our older religious. They should be able to teach compassion to the middle-aged person. Often only the patience and understanding of an older person can help a somewhat younger person to be more tolerant and a little less task-oriented. 22 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 Older religious also need to be asked to hand on their wisdom and their traditions, and to know that their function in life--be it prayer or com-panionship- is valued and appreciated and wanted. CONTINUING STIMULATION I have used this title to indicate that .not all our courses need to use "newness" as the criterion of their excellence. This "newness" has been a strong emphasis in renewal programs in recent times and much of it is both ex-plicable and justifiable. However we always have a continuing need of conver-sion: a need to be joined anew to Christ, to be detached from our own selfishness, to find God's will. It is noteworthy that the article on "spiritual direction" in Sacramentum Mundi lists the process of spiritual direction as i. helping a person to self knowledge; 2. helping a person to self acceptance; 3. helping a person to detachment from his own ego; 4. helping a person to find the present will of God. This is a process that continues at every stage of a person's life, and for which we always need courses and helps that are relevant and stimulating. While "newness" is necessary, it is not the only criterion. Conclusion Finally there is an obvious danger of institutionalizing renewal., and then we shall have to start again. To avoid this it is most important that .personal responsibility be fostered, that opportunities be sought and provided, and that mutual caring and sharing be constantly deepened and encouraged. The New Law for Religious: Principles, Content, Evaluation Kevin D. O'Rourke, O.P. Kevin D. O'Rourke, O.P., is a canon lawyer and the Director of Medical Moral Affairs; The Catholic Hospital Association; 1438 South Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63104. In 1959, on the feast of St. Paul, January 25, Pope John surprised the Catholic Church by announcing that there would be an ecumenical council. At the same time, he stated that the law of the Catholic Church would be revised. After Pope John's death, Pope Paul continued the work, appointing in 1963 a Pon-tifical Commission for the Revision of the Code of Canon Law consisting of forty cardinals. In 1964, he appointed seventy consultors to the Commission. in 1965, tlSe cardinals and consultors were placed on 13 study groups or com-mittees (coetus studiorum) and the revision of the Code of Canon Law began in earnest. The various committees have.held meetings to discuss the needs of the Church insofar as law is concerned. At present, several sections of the revised Church law are nearing completion. The section of the revision in which we are interested, De institutis perfectionis, has been completed in its preliminary form. After 14 general meetings between November 1966 and May 1974, with much work being done by the consultors between the meetings, a tentative set of canons has been produced. These canons will be presented to the Commis-sion on Revision for review, and then, if the practice followed with other sec-tions of the revision is adhered to, they will be sent by Pope Paul to the bishops of the world for evaluation. Because of the nature of the matter, perhaps they will be sent to conferences of major superiors as well. After comments, obser-vations, criticisms, and additions are received, the Committee on Institutes of Perfection will rework the section in light of the additional material and then present it to the Pontifical Commission for Revision for final approval. Since the Holy Father, in collegial union with the bishops, is the legislator in the Church, nothing will be final until his approval is given to the new text. 24 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 Though the tentative text has not been published officially, several accounts of the work of the Commission have been published in the official journal of the Pontifical Commission for Revision, Communicationes.' These accounts, along with some articles written by members of the study group composing the canons, enable us to form a rather accurate picture of the principles, outline, and content of the new canons.~ The purpose of our endeavor, then, will be to present the principles, outline, and content of the new canons for institutes of perfection, and to offer an evaluation of the work that has been completed to date. PRINCIPLES OF THE REVISION Though the first two meetings of the Committee, then known under the ti-tle, De religiosis,3 were productive, at the third session the group determined to formulate principles before proceeding further. These principles would make the work orderly and the discussions less abstract. Accordingly, principles were formulated in accord with the Decree on Religious Life of Vatican Council I I, Perfectae caritatis, with the document implementing the conciliar decrees for religious, Ecclesiae sanctaeo and with the Principles for the Renewal of the Code issued by the Pontifical Commission for Revision? As a result of the Committee's discussion, the following principles were formulated to guide the revision of the laws for institutes of perfection. Spirituality Principle 1. The canons should be stated in such a way that they foster the gift of religious vocation and the presence of grace in the life of those consecrated to the Lord. In other words, the juridical formulation of the canons ought to be harmonized wisely with the theological and mystical elements which lead to the fullness of the spiritual life. Through this principle, the Committee wished to avbid a multiplication of norms and to dispel the idea, held even by some in the consecrated life, that formal and external observance of general or particular laws would lead to perfection. In order to implement this principle, the Com-mittee did two things: Scriptural statements and theological elements were added to the canons, and pastoral canons, hortatory in nature, were als6 employed. aCommunicationes, 1970, pp. 168-81; 1973, pp. 47-69; 1974, pp. 72-93. 2j. Beyer, S.J., "De institutorum vitae consecratae novo jure," Periodica, 1974, pp. 145-68; 179- 222; Mark Said, O.P, secretary of the Committee, "'Progetto della riforma della legislazione codiciale: De religiosis, un giro d'orizzonte," manuscript of a talk given in 1974 to an international conference of major superiors. , 3The title was changed to institutes of perfection after the fourth session, April 1968. Thus, religious life was no longer the paradigm for other institutes in which people practiced the evangelical counsels. The practical changes resulting from this new vision are significant, es-pecially insofar as terminology is concerned. 4Communicationes. 1969, p. 80. The New Law: Principles, Content, Evaluation Individuality Principle 2. The second principle is: the common law of the Church ought to be to foster and conserve the patrimony proper to each religious family. This patrimony consists in the proper and particular charism, the goal, mission, spirit, character, and the tested tradition of each institute. Hence, the canons should be general, all detailed and minute regulations being eliminated since the proper liberty should be afforded each institute. The tendency to group all persons devoted to the following of the evangelical counsels into one category is hereby renounced by the Church. In this manner, the canons will stimulate the self-understanding in each institute, increase an appreciation of the charism of the institute, develop an awareness of the graces received and of the role of the institute in the mission of the Church, and prompt institutes to study and conserve the spirit of the founder. This principle, of course, is in accord with the documents of the Council and seeks to overcome the "leveling" influence of the Code of Canon Law which legislated in too great detail. Subsidiarity Principle 3. The third principle follows from the second. While the constitutive or es-sential principles of the consecrated life should be precisely and clearly stated, other norms should have a certain flexibility so that they may .be applied fit-tingly to different conditions and needs of the Church and institutes of perfec-tion. Essential principles are the same for all institutes dedicated to the evangelical counsels, but in other norms, especially disciplinary norms, sub-sidiarity is needed in order to promote apostolic life and allow adaptation to social and community needs. This principle is contained in the general princi-ple approved by the Pontifical Commission for Revision, but it is applied in this section more liberally because people in institutes of perfecti6n have answered God's call to vocation and should ha~,e greater maturity and respon-sibility. Shared Responsibility Principle 4. The fourth principle, following the admonition of the Conciliar fathers, postulates the need for a more democratic exercise of power in the internal af-fairs of institutes of perfection. Hence, canons which concern the governmental structure.and administration should allo~; representation and cooperation of all members of the institute. Each institute should design suitable governmen-tal programs in light of its nature, spirit, goals, and apostolic mission. Ample freedom must be afforded to develop particular methods of representation and participation in government. Respecting the genius and spirit of each institute, governments should be designed so that the same person does not have office for too long a time, nor too often. Equality Principle 5. The last principle, developed after the Committee had undertaken its 26 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 work,5 concerns equality. Insofar as possible, all institutes of perfection should be treated the same. Hence, there is no longer any distinction in the common law between orders and congregations; between regulars and non-regulars; between solemn and simple vows, granting that there may be some theological difference. Moreover, the Committee sought to eliminate the divisions and divisiveness which arise because of exemption. Hence, exemption, in accord with the documents of the Council, is stressed as a quality affecting the internal life of a community that possesses it. Lastly, the Committee sought to remove all signs of discrimination between institutes of men and women, and between members of each institute. Distinctions might be retained by particular in-stitutes among members, but they are no'longer contained in the general law. The motivation for eliminating all these distinctions was to allow the necessary freedom, thus enabling institutes to find their own identity, to rediscover the spirit of the founder, and after prayer and study, to formulate a body of legislation adapted to their own needs. In doing this, the Committee was aware of certain risks, especially in institutes with less experience; but the risks were considered worthwhile in view of the potential benefits for each in-stitute. For purposes of convenience, I have given each one of these principles a ti-tle. Hence, the five principles which guided the consultors as they wrote the new canons for institutes of perfection might be entitled: 1. The principle of spirituality 2. The principle of individuality 3. The principle of subsidiarity 4. The principle of shared responsibility 5. The principle of equality CHARACTERISTICS OF THE NEW LAW FOR INSTITUTES OF PERFECTION As a result of these principles, according to the secretary (relator) of the Committee, the consultors sought to incorporate certain characteristics into the law during its formulation.6 These characteristics are noted in the following paragraphs. Respect for the Activity of the Holy Spirit All institutes of perfection come into being as a result of the love of the Holy Spirit. God inspires the founder of a community to choose a way of life which enables people to follow Christ more closely. After the institute is ap-proved by the Church, the influence of the Holy Spirit continues; and those who wish to remain faithful to their vocation must follow the way of life given to the founder under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. This is why there is such respect for the charism, vocation, genius, mission, spirit, and tradition of each institute shown in the new canons. ~See Said, "Progetto," p. 6. ~lbid., p. 7. The New Law." Principles, Content, Evaluation Respect for Suitable Autonomy As a result of the principle of ~ubsidiarity, the legislation avoids detailed and minute statements. Autonomy and diversity are promoted by allowing in-stitutes to make the necessary applications of general principles whenever possible. Respect for the Theological Element The consultors realized that they were writing laws, but they also realized that the laws were stated in the Code of Canon Law in an arid and stultifying manner. Hence they sought to give the new laws greater theological flavor, realizing that they were writing for people who were totally dedicated to the pursuit of perfect charity. Respect for Maturity In the future the particular laws of institutes of perfection will be more im-portant than the g~neral laws. Through the particular laws, the character of the institute will be formulated, and in it the specific characteristics of mission and vocation will be stated. Without doubt, an institute will require members who are mature and capable in order to compose this legislation. Moderators and members of the institutes will be given responsibilities of self-determination that will require prayer, insight, and maturity. Respect for Rights of the Church Founded upon the word and example of Christ, institutes of perfection are a gift from God to the Church, the Body of Christ. Hence the Church con-serves and guides these institutes under the direction of the Holy Spirit. All members of institutes of perfection must be committed to building up the Body of Christ, according to the vocation of each institute. People in institutes of perfection have the obligation to bring Christ to the world. Hence, this legisla-tion recalls continuously that the life of people in institutes of perfection must be lived in union with Christ. But in order to live in close union with Christ, those in institutes of perfection must be in close union with the Church. CONTENTS OF THE PROPOSED NEW LAW In this section, I shall give an outline of the proposed law, then make a few preliminary and general remarks, and finally discuss various points in the con-tents of the proposed law. Outline of the Proposed Law INSTITUTES OF PERFECTION Preliminary Canons cc. 1-6 Part I Common to Institutes of Perfection Title I Constitution, Institutes and Their Parts cc. 7-13 21~ / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 Title I1 Dependence of Institutes upon Ecclesiastical Authority cc. 14-24 Title III Government of Institutes of Perfection cc. 25-36 Title IV Administration of Goods cc. 37-43 Title V Admission into an Institute cc. 44 Article 1 Requirements of Candidates cc. 45-49 Article 2 Formation of Candidates cc. 50-56 Article 3 Incorpora.tion into the Institute cc. 57-64 Article 4 Formation of Members of the Institute cc. 65-67 Title VI Obligations of Institutes and Their Members cc. 68-75 Title VII Separation from an Institute Article I Transfer to another Institute cc. 76-77 Article 2 Departure from an Institute cc. 78-82 Article 3 Dismissal from an Institute cc. 83-87 Article 4 Juridical Condition of Those Separated from an Institute cc. 88-90 Part 1I Proper to Different Institutes of Perfection Preliminary Canons cc. 91-94 Title I Religious Institutes cc. 95-99 Chapter I Article I Article 2 Chapter II Article 1 Article 2 ¯ Article 3 Title II Title Ill Monastic Institutes cc. 100 Monks cc. 101-106 Nuns cc. 107-109 Religious Institutes Dedicated to Apostolic Works cc. I10- 113 Canonical Institutes cc. 114-115 Conventu.al Institutes cc. 116-117 Apostolic Institutes cc. 118-120 Institutes United for Apostolic Life cc. 121-124 Secular Institutes cc. 125-127 General Remarks on the Proposed Law In order to treat adequately and clearly the various forms of institutes dedicated to the consecrated life, the matter is divided into general and par-ticular considerations. Though some of the titles contained in the first part of the division are also contained in the Code of Canon Law, the matter is treated in an entirely new manner, and for the most part, the content is changed con-siderably. The matter in the second part of the division is entirely new. The main purpose in this section of this article will be to present a rather detailed account of the contents of the new law for institutes of perfection. Since the text is still under development, changes will be made in it before it is submitted to the episcopal conferences; and many more changes will be made in it before it is promulgated. Hence, specific statements should npt be con-sidered as final. Nonetheless, the general thrust o.f the new law can be perceived The New Law." Principles, Content, Evaluation by concentrating on what has been formulated thus far. In translating from the Latin, I have tried to be accurate rather than elegant. The text, therefore, with all its clauses and phrases may not read as smoothly as it would if originally written in English. One familiar with the Code of Canon Law will notice that many new terms are used in the new law. The main reason for these changes is the fact that religious life is no longer presented as the paradigm for all institutes of perfec-tion. Hence, more general terms had to be found which would be applicable to all institutes of perfection. Following are some of the terms used in the Code and their counterparts in the new law: Code vita religiosa = religious life religio = religious institute religiosi = religious subjecti = subjects soperiores = superiors domus = house votum = vow novitius = novice novitiatus = novitiate magister novitiorum = novice master professio = profession professio perpetua = perpetual profession professio temporaria = temporary profession New Law vita consecrata = consecrated life institutio perfectionis = institute of perfection sodales = members sodales = members moderatores = moderators sedes or coetus = house or group sacra ligamina = sacred bonds receptus or sodales nuper recepti = candidate or new members tempus probationis = canonical probation magister probationis canonicae = master of canonical probation cooptatio = incorporation cooptatio perpetua = perpetual profession cooptatio temporaria = temporary professibn Preliminary Canons The preliminary canons contain the principal elements describing and defining the consecrated life, a life devoted to a closer following of Christ through commitment to the evangelical counsels. Naturally, these preliminary can6ns are applicable to all institutes of perfection, the individual types of in-stitutes being described and defined in the second part of the tract. There are six preliminary canons. The first presents the theological elements of the con-secrated life by describing the various characteristics which constitute and specify it. It states: I. Life consecrated through the profession of the evangelical counsels is a stable form of life, by which the faithful, following Christ more closely, are dedicated totally to God loved above all, so that by a new and special title they are ordered to the honor of God, to the salvation of the world, and to the building up of the Church, seek the perfection of charity in the service of the kingdom of God, and become clear signs in the Church foretelling heavenly glory. 2. Which form of living in institutes of perfection, constituted under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit and canonically erected by the competent authority of the Church, the 30 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 faithful freely accept, who through vows or other sacred bonds, profess to observe ac-cording to the particular laws of these institutes the evangelical counsels of chastity, poverty, and obedience, and who are united to the mystery of the Church in a special manner by charity, to which the counsels lead. Though the purpose of this presentation does not include analyzing the various definitions given in this tract, because of its importance, we shall schematize the theological notion of the consecrated life in the following out-line. Consecrated life: 1. is a stable form of life 2. dedicates people to God loved above all things 3. orders them by a new and special title to: a. the honor of God b. the salvation of the world c. the building up of the Church 4. enables its members to seek the perfection of charity in service of the kingdom of God and witness heavenly glory in the Church 5. is constituted by inspiration of the Holy Spirit 6. is canonically erected by competent ecclesiastical authority 7. is accepted by professing, through vows or other sacred bonds, the evangelical counsels of chastity, poverty, and obedience, according to the laws of particular institutes 8. unites the faithful to the mystery of the Church in a special manner through charity to which the counsels lead. The charismatic nature of the consecrated life is stated in the second preliminary canon. It affirms that the status of those in institutes of perfection, though not pertaining to the hierarchical structure of the Church, does pertain to its life and sanctity and must be held in honor by all. Both clerics and lay people may be called to this state by divine vocation and thus participate in the saving mission of the Church. The evangelical counsels, the third canon declares, are founded in the teaching and example of Christ. They are a divine gift to the Church from God and it is the duty of the Church to conserve this gift. In early versions of the revision, the right of the Church to govern institutes of perfection was spelled out here, but this power is now treated in Title I1. The fourth canon repeats the thought of Lumen gentium, no. 46, by stating that the profession of the evangelical counsels, though entailing the renuncia-tion of certain values which are to be undoubtedly esteemed, does not detract from a genuine development of human persons, but rather by its very nature is helpful to that development. Those who profess the evangelical counsels, by their consecration do not become strangers to their fellowmen or useless citizens of this earthly city, for even though they sometimes do not directly assist their contemporaries, still they help them spiritually by prayer, sacrifice, and preaching the gospel. All, however, also those who offer service to others and direct the building up of the earthly city to God, give testimony to Christ so that the Heavenly Father may be glorified in all things. The distinction between clerical and lay institutes is explained in canon five, as well as the difference between institutes of diocesan right and pontifical The New Law: Principles, Content, Evaluation right. The distinction between clerical and lay institutes is slightly different from that of canon 498, no. 4 in the Code. Clerical institutes are now defined as institutes which assume the exercise of sacred orders in their particular legisla-tion, said legislation being approved by competent authority. Institutes of pon-tifical right are erected and approved by the Holy See, while diocesan institutes have been erected by a local ordinary but not by the Holy See. The last preliminary canon declares that what is stated concerning members of in-stitutes of perfection pertains to both sexes, unless the context or nature of the case indicates otherwise. This has been called the principle of equality by the secretary of the Committee,~ but the content of the canon fails to justify this laudable title. Part I Those Things Common to Institutes of Perfection Title l The Constitution of Institutes and Their Parts This section was originally entitled, Concerning the Erection, Union, and Suppression of Institutes, Provinces, and Houses. Though the same matter is treated, the title was changed to that given above. In view of the new structures in the Church, such as the national conferences of bishops, and the application of the principle of subsidiarity, this section is changed considerably from the legislation of the Code. Diocesan institutes may be erected by local ordinaries provided the con-ference of bishops, avoiding unnecessary duplication of institutes, grants per-mission. To divide an institute into parts, to erect new parts, or to join existing parts pertains to the authority of the institutes as determined in particular law. To erect a house (sedes) or group of an institute pertains to the competent authority stated in the particular law, provided the consent of the ordinary of the place has been given in writing beforehand. Consent of the ordinary to erect a house of the institute carries with it the right to live according to the spirit, particular go~l, and particular means of the institute, to carry on the works proper to the institute, any condition contained in the permission to establish the house being observed. Moreover, clerical institutes have the right to es-tablish a church or public oratory and to carry on the sacred ministry, the com-mon law being observed. In order to change the apos.tolic purpose of a house or group, the consent of the local ordinary is required, unless it concerns the inter-nal government of discipline of the institute. Changes in institutes which affect matters determined by the Holy See require permission of the Holy See. The permission of the Holy See is also required if two or more institutes unite to form a new institute, or if they unite, one institute retaining, the other surrendering, its identity. Suppression of institutes also pertains to the Holy See which has the right to dispose of the property of the institutes. Suppression of a part of an institute, a province or a vicariate, pertains to the general chapter of the institute in accord with particular law. The supreme moderator may suppress a house, the ordinary of the place having given his consent. If 7Communicationes, 1970, p. 176. 32 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 there is difficulty, the Holy See should be consulted. Property of a suppressed house should be distributed according to particular law and justice, the inten-tion of the donors being observed. Title !! Dependence of Institutes upon Ecclesiastical Authority The revision of the Code has two sections on government; one concerns the dependence of the institute upon the Church, the other the internal government of the institute. The principle underlying the section which outlines the relationship to the Church is that an institute of perfection is constituted for the service of the whole Church. Hence, it is subject to the authority of the Church in order to insure that it achieve its own purpose and cooperate in effecting the common good. Members of institutes of perfection, therefore, are subject to the Holy Father by reason of their bond of obedience. Moreover, it pertains to competent ecclesiastical authority, led by the Holy Spirit, to moderate and interpret the practice of the evangelical counsels and to approve stable forms of life so that institutes will grow and flourish according to the spirit of the founders. The canons insist that in order to preserve their doctrinal and spiritual patrimony, institutes have autonomy of internal government and of particular legislation. The Holy See as well as the bishops must respect this autonomy. This statement is significant because it indicates that internal autonomy is a right, not a privilege nor an exemption. The possibility of exemption is mentioned in this section. Exemption, as Lumen gentium (no. 45) informs us, is the power of the Holy See to remove an institute of pe.rfection from the jurisdiction of the local ordinary and subject it to himself or another authority of the Church, in order to provide better for apostolic service and for the spiritual growth of members of the institute. Only the possibility and purpose of exemption is mentioned, no explanation being given of its meaning. Since exemption is a particular act of the Roman Pontiff, it is not fitting that it be limited through a definition of law. Institutes that are exempt carry on their apostolic life in cooperation with the local ordinary as outlined in Christus Dominus (nos. 34, 35) and Ecclesiae sanctae (1, nos. 22- 40). Thus, the new law states that houses and members of institutes are subject to episcopal authority according to the norms of law. The specific rights of local ordinaries in regard to diocesan institutes are enumerated. In respect to a diocesan institute, a local Ordinary has the right: I. to approve particular laws 2. to confirm changes in particular laws proposed by the general chapter, unless the ¯ matter pertains to the Holy See 3. to give dispensations from the particular law in single and particular (per modum ac-tus) cases 4. to visitate houses of an institute for pastoral reasons or if a particular reason warrants 5. to call members of the institute in their territory to external works of the apostolate in keeping with the purpose and slbirit of the institute, observing religious discipline and obtaining the consent of the competent moderator. The New Law." Principles, Content, Evaluation if the diocesan institute is located in more than one diocese the local ordinary of the principal house approves the particular law, other concerned ordinaries being consulted, and grants proper dispensations. If the principal house is to be moved from one diocese to another, the consent of both local ordinaries is re-quired, Institutes of pontifical right are subject immediately and exclusively to the Holy See in internal government and discipline, any laws to the contrary being observed. Members of these institutes are subject to the local ordinary in the public exercise of divine worship and the external work of the apostolate, ac-cording to the spirit, purpose, and discipline of each institute. Moreover, the local ordinary must visitate houses of pontifical right in regard to the above mentioned matters if grave reasons seem to require it. The last canon of this section calls for regular meetings between local ordinaries and moderators of institutes of perfection in order to improve and coordinate apostolic activity. Title 1II The Government of Institutes of Perfection In this section, the moderator or superiors of the institute are urged to accept and fulfill their responsibilities in a spirit of service toward the com-munity, governing more by promoting cooperation than by imposing precepts. Sufficient authority is provided, however, so that the moderators may wisely and prudently provide for the common good and the growth of individual members. Extensive use of the principle of subsidiarity makes this section of the new law much different from the law of the Code and the attitudes and customs in accord with the Code. In particular the section states the following: Moderators and chapters of institutes have authority to govern individuals and groups within the com-munity, carrying out their pastoral mission according to the particular laws of the institute. In clerical institutes, moderators have ecclesiastical jurisdiction for the internal and external forum. In exempt institutes, moderators possess a greater participation of ecclesiastical power and exercise it in accord with general and particular law. Major moderators in clerical instituti~s are called ordinaries. Moderators should follow the example and command of Christ: "Whoever is great among you, let him become the servant" (Mt 20:26). Moreover, they should recognize and promote the human and Christian dignity of the members, in regard to the exercise of authority, members should display an ac-tive obedience, both in executing and in initiating apostolic works. So that this might be achieved more harmoniously, moderators should listen to the members and consider them as collaborators in working for the good of the in-stitute and the Church. In order for one to be a moderator, whether supreme or subordinate, one must be incorporated definitively in the institute for a period of time deter-mined by particular law. The length of term for each office, which is determined by particular law, should be temporary, unless the spirit of the institute in- 34 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 dicates otherwise for the office of supreme moderator. For the good of the in-stitute and in'order to improve the quality of government and the spirituality of the members, particular law should provide that moderators do not stay in of-rice for too long a period. Hence, when they complete the time prescribed in particular law, they should not assume the office of moderator again until some years have expired. The supreme moderator of an institute should be designated by canonical election according to norms of particular law. Other major superiors are designated according to particular law, that is, they are either elected and then confirmed by the supreme moderator, or appointed but only after adequate and free consultation. Particular law should provide for the appointment or election of minor superiors. Members of the institute must follow the norms of common and particular law in all elections. Moreover, they must vote only for those whom they consider in the Lord to be more worthy of office, avoiding all abuses, especially that of procuring votes for themselves or for others. In order to improve communications, at regular intervals the supreme moderator should send a brief report on the condition and life of the institute to the Holy See. Moreover, moderators should communicate pertinent statements of the Holy See to the members in their care. Moderators should visitate, according to norms of particular law, houses and members under their care. Members should be honest with their moderators responding in truth and charity to legitimate questions. No one should hinder members from fulfilling their responsibilities. The spiritual duties of the moderator are considered carefully. Besides be-ing solicitous about their duties, moderators are to help members seek and love God, foster fraternal communion, promote the growth of the Church and the love of fellow °man, and help members draw closer to Christ through the prac-tice of the evangelical coun~eis. Frequently, they should communicate the word of God to the members, be present with them at the liturgy, stimulate them to the practice of virtue, and instruct by word and example in observance of the law and the worthwhile traditions of the institute. Moreover, let moderators help them in their personal needs, visit and care for the sick sedulously, correct the unruly, strengthen the weakhearted, and be patient to all. The thoughts of this canon, even some of the words, are taken from the Rule of St. Augustine. Moderators must have a permanent council, constituted according to par-ticular law, and must use the council in fulfilling their responsibilities. Consent or consultation is required according to common and particular law. Chapters and councils fulfill their office according to particular and common law, work-ing for the good of the institute or a particular group. In consultation and meetings discretion should be observed so that each institute may be effectively and aptly governed according to its spirit and goals. Moderators should leave the members free in regard to the direction of conscience, the particular law of the institute being observed. Unless members petition it spontaneously, moderators should not hear their confessions. The New Law: Principles, Content, Evaluation Though no one should be bound to confess to a particular priest, worthy con-fessors should be provided regularly. It is desirable that members freely and faithfully open their hearts to their moderators. Title IV Temporal Goods and Their Administration Because the administration of temporal goods in institutes of perfection is subject to the common law of the Church and also to the civil law of particular countries, this section is rather brief. In composing this,part, the Committee sought to state the principles which would foster the practice of poverty and to eliminate all requirements contained in the old law which discriminate against communities of women. The section begins with the statement that temporal goods of institutes of perfection are ecclesiastical goods and as such are Subject to the general laws concerning the patrimony of the Church, unless particular or common law states otherwise. If the particular s, pirit of an institute warrants, particular law may limit or eliminate the power of acquisition, possession, and administration of temporalgoods. Hence~ each institute should form laws which foster, protect, and express the practice, of poverty according to the spirit of the institute. Witnessing to poverty and charity, institutes should give alms and gifts when possible, particular laws being observed:. Major and minor moderators should have a treasurer, constituted accord-ing to particular law, who administrates temporal goods under their direc-tion. Particular law, following common law, should statelwhich actions exceed the goal and manner of ordinary administration. At proper times determined by particular law, administrators should give an account of their responsibility. For the validity of an alienation which exceeds the amouqt set by the episcopal conference, the consent of the Holy See is required. Title V Admission into the Institute The legislation concerning this most important topic is general, the burden for insuring proper selection and formation of candidate being put upon the in-dividual institutes. The law states that any Catholic may ibe admitted to an in-stitute of perfection who, endowed with a divine vocation, is fittingly prepared and approved by proper authority and has the qualities required by common and particular law. The rest of the title is divided into four articles, the first article concerning the preparation of those to be received. The right to admit candidates pertains to major superiors according to the norms of particular law. This responsibility should be fulfilled carefully so that only those are admitted who are of proper age, have the required health, maturity, and aptitude for the life and mission of the institute, experts being consulted to ascertain the presence of these qualities if need be. The following would be admitted invalidly to an institute: 1. those who are not yet 17 years of age 2. a .spouse who is still married 36 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 one who presently is bound by vows or other bonds in an institute of perfection one who conceals a. admission into another institute of perfection b. substantial indebtedness c. the need to render an account to legally constituted authority. Other impediments to valid admission may be stated in particular law. Before candidates are admitted they must present testimony of baptism and confirma-tion as well as the fact that they are free to enter the institute. Recent converts should not be admitted until their steadfastness is demonstrated. Particular law requires additional proof of candidates' worthiness and their freedom from impediments of particular or common law. If necessary, moderators may seek confidential information as well. Article 2 treats the formation of candidates. The purpose of the time of canonical probation,, by which the life in the institute is begun, is to enable the candidates to consider more carefully, their divine vocation, to experience life in the institute, to test and prove their commitment and worthiness, and to im-bue their hearts and mind with the spirit of the institute. The place for canonical probation may be erected, moved, and suppressed by the supreme moderator with the consent of his council. Particular law, in addition to other conditions for the validity of canonical probation, may define requisites in regard to time, provided (dummodo) the duration of canonical probation em-braces at least one continuous year. The purpose of the canonical probation requires that it be made under the direction of a master according to particular law and be adapted to the nature and goals of the institute. Many of the op-tions in regard to apostolic activity during the time of canonical probation con-tained in Renovationis causam are not contained in the new law, the institute being allowed to determine how the time of probation will be spent as long as the goals are fulfilled. Some of the innovations contained in Renovationis causam .were not thought to be successful by the Committee.8 The master of canonical probation (fgrmerly the novice master), a member definitively admitted to the institute, is design.ated according to particular law and may have assistants; but the direction of the canonical probation is the responsibility of the master under the authority of the major moderator. The formation of candidates should be under the direction of carefully selected and well-prepared members who are free from other responsibilities that would im-pede their work, most important for the institute and the good of the Church. The master and assistants should discern the vocation of (he candidates, leading them gradually to the way of perfection proper to the institute, ac-cording to the norms of particular law. The master and assistants should help the candidates develop Christian and human virtues, and educate them in the spiritual life according to the purpose, goals, spirituality, and history of the in-stitute. Other members of the institute should cooperate in formation through prayer and example. The candidates must be conscious of their responsibility 8Beyer, "De institutorum . . . novo jure," p. 200. The New Law." Principles, Content. Evaluation / 37 to cooperate actively with the master and respond to the grace of their divine vocation. In institutes which have members of different categories, the proba-tion fulfilled for one category is valid for the other, unless particular law states the contrary. Candidates may leave the institute if they wish and may be dismissed by competent authority of the institute, according to particular law. The canonical probation being completed, if the candidate is judged worthy, he or she may be admitted to the institute, otherwise she or he should be dismissed, unless there is doubt about worthiness, and then the probation may be prolonged, but not beyond six months. Article 3 is concerned with incorporation (cooptatio) into the institute. Find-ing an English word to serve as a synonym for the Latin "cooptatio" is rather difficult. A literal translation would be "election," but this does not seem to describe what happens when one professes vows or other sacred bonds in an in-stitute of perfection. The Code of Canon Law used the word "'profession" but this is a form of"cooptatio" which is proper to religious communities. Having considered many possible words, I have settled upon "'incorporation," being open to a better alternative in the future. Whatever the word, the event and process under discussion is clear; it is the action and the effects of the action by which one temporarily or permanently binds oneself through vows or other sacred bonds to follow the evangelical counsels according to the spirit and legislation of a particular institute of perfection. The canons state: No one may be incorporated into an institute, unless in the manner prescribed by particular law. Incorporation carries with it the rights and obligations defined in particular statutes, being observed under legitimate authority. Through incorporation the institute assumes the respon-sibility, under a new title, of leading the member to his goal according to the statutes of the institute. After canonical probation, incorporation should be made for a definite time, but not for less than three years or longer than nine years, unless particular law states otherwise. By temporary incorporation, members assume publicly the observance of the three evangelical counsels of chastity, poverty, and obedience, made firm either by vow or some other sacred bond. Particular law may permit, however, that in temporary incor-poration of the member, in place of a vow or other sacred bonds, one may be bound to the institute by another bond, the nature of which must be defined carefully by the same particular law. Always, h6wever, the member must be so incorporated that one is held to lead one's life according to the norms of the in-stitute under the authority of the legitimate moderator. For the validity of temporary incorporation, besides the conditions set down in particular law, the following are required: a. at least 1,8 years of age completed b. completion of valid canonical probation c. judgment of worthiness made according to the requirements of par-ticular law d. admission by the competent superior. 31~ / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 When the time of temporary incorporation is completed, one who freely petitions and is judged worthy should be admitted to definitive incorporation; otherwise one should leave or be dismissed. However, if it seems opportune or if the member spontaneously requests, the period of temporary incorporation may be prolonged by the competent moderator, not however beyond three years. Through definitive incorporation members consecrate their lives to God by a sacred bond of its nature perpetual, and also are admitted fully into the in-stitute. For valid definitive incorporation, besides the conditions of particular law, the following are required: a. at least 21 years of age completed b. previous incorporation completed, according to canon 58 c. judgment of worthiness made according to the requirements of par-ticular law d. admission by the competent superior. Those who are incorporated are bound to live according to the norms of their institute. Article 4 provides for the formation of incorporated members of the in-stitute. The new law considers the education or formation of incorporated members as well as candidates. This article gives general notions which in-dicate the necessity, purpose, and duration of continuing education and forma-tion. The details are consigned to particular law. In every institute, after first incorporation, the formation of the members must be perfected so that they will be able to lead more fully the life of the in-stitute and carry on its mission more fittingly. Hence, particular law must define the duration and purpose of this formation, being mindful of the needs of the Church, the conditions of the times, as well as the goal and spirit of the institute. During this period of formation, members should not be assigned to offices or other work which impedes their formation. This formation, under the guidance of qualified people and accommodated to the capabilities of the members, should be doctrinal as well as practical, in accord with the needs of the institute. If possible and fitting, useful academic degrees should be ob-tained. The formation of those who are destined for sacred orders is governed by common law and the course of studies (ratio studiorum) proper to each in-stitute. Throughout their whole life, members should seek spiritual, doctrinal, and professional development, and moderators, insofar as possible, should provide the time and means to do this. Title Vi Obligations of Institutes and Their Members The principal responsibility of each institute is to understa~ld its vocation in Christ and in the Church, to preserve faithfully its particular nature according to the spirit of the founder, and to strive sedulously to achieve the goals of the community, being attentive to the signs of the times. Members should keep in The New Law: Principles, Content, Evaluation mind that they have responded to the divine call by profession of the evangelical counsels; accordingly, being more and more liberated from the things which might diminish the fervor of charity, they are bound to live solely for God and His kingdom. Members of institutes of perfection should make the following of Christ in the Gospels the supreme rule of their life. All members have the responsibility of cooperating wholeheartedly and diligently in the building up of the Body of Christ, according to the vocation of each institute. Solicitously, therefore, let them be careful so that through them the Church show forth Christ more vividly day by day. Each institute, according to its nature and proper character, should define by particular law in its own rule of life the manner in which the counsels of chastity, poverty, and obedience should be observed. Each member ought not only to observe faithfully and integrally the evangelical counsels, but also order his or her life according to the statutes of the institute, and so strive for greater perfection of charity. Let the contemplation of divine things and assiduous communication with God be as daily food to people consecrated to the service of God and the Church. Avidly, therefore, members should peruse meditatively the Sacred Scriptures, participate in the celebration of the sacred liturgy, prac-tice mental and vocal prayer, make a yearly retreat, and perform other spiritual exercises according to the norms of particular law. It is earnestly recommended that members participate daily in the sacrifice of (he Mass, and according to the condition of each one, receive the sacred Body of Christ. Let them go to confession frequently according to the norms of particular law and the counsel of their spiritual director. Moreover, let the members employ other means, whether natural or supernatural, useful for fostering the spiritual life, whether common to all or proper to their own in-stitute; most especially, let them examine their conscience, visit the Blessed Sacrament, and pray to the Blessed Virgin, especially by reciting the rosary. The members, living in fraternal community rooted and founded in charity, should be an example to others of the universal reconciliation in Christ; hence let them show forth the gentleness and kindness of Christ in their life. Title VII Separation from the Institute When treating this matter, the Committee sought to simplify the process by which one departs or is dismissed from an institute of perfection. Hence, the practice of having separate processes for those in simple and solemn vows was eliminated, as well as the differences arising from exempt and non-exempt in-stitutes. Secularization and exclaustration were dropped from the new law, as well as the distinctions between apostates and fugitives. Moreover, in accord with the principles of subsidiarity, many of the decisions which were previously made by the Holy See are now made by the institute. As a result of the simplifications and in response to the needs of our times, a person who does not cooperate with the community may be dismissed more easily than in the legislation contained in the Code. Hence, the rights of the institute are 40 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 protected more readily than they were under the legislation of the Code which gave greater protection to the individual religious. Article I Transfer to Another Institute One may not transfer from one's own institute of perfection to another un-less one has the consent of each supreme moderator and the deliberative vote of each council. Particular law should define the time and manner of proba-tion, which having been fulfilled, the member may be admitted to a new incor-poration according to the statutes. One who has been definitively incorporated before transfer, after completing.probation is definitively incorporated into the new institute; one who was not definitively incorporated assumes temporary bonds, lasting for at least three years. Until the new incorporation, the sacred bonds remaining, the particular rights and obligations that the member had in the previous institute remain suspended; when the new probation begins, however, the member is bound by the statutes of the new institute. If one is not admitted to incorporation or refuses it, one must return to the original institute unless he or she obtains a dispensation from bonds or the preceding time of incorporation has already ex-pired. Through incorporation, a member is joined to the new institute, the sacred bonds, rights, and obligations of the original institute ceasing. Article 2 Departure from an Institute The supreme moderator, having heard his council, for a grave cause may concede to a member definitively incorporated into the institute that he or she may live outside the institute, and, though still under sacred bonds, be free from obligations which cannot be reconciled with the new condition of life, but not for more than three years. A member in this state remains under the care of the superiors; however, he or she lacks active and passive voice. One who completes the time of temporary incorporation may leave the in-stitute if he so wishes. A member who during the time of temporary incorpora-tion for a grave cause petitions to leave the institute may be given an indult to depart definitively by the supreme moderator with the consent of his council. A definitively incorporated member who for most grave reasons considered before the Lord petitions an indult to depart from the institute may obtain it from the supreme moderator. In order to validly concede this induit, the supreme moderator needs the consent of his council, which for this case must consist of at least five members. Hence, if ordinary councilors are absent or lacking, others should be called according to the norms of particular law. Voting for this consent should be done secretly. An induit to depart from the institute, accepted in writing by the member, carries with it ipso iure a dispen-sation from vows or other sacred bonds and from all other obligations which arise from incorporation. A member who removes himself from the prescribed community life or from the jurisdiction of the moderator should be solicitously sought and helped by the moderators so that he might persevere in his vocation. However, if The New Law: Principles, Content, Evaluation within the time determined in particular law, but never less than three months, two warnings have proved useless, or the member does not return, he may be dismissed from the institute by a decree of the supreme moderator with the consent of his council. Article 3 Dismissal from an Institute A member, the time of temporary incorporation having expired, may be dismissed by the competent moderator if there are just and reasonable causes either on the part of the institute or the part of the candidate. Observing justice and charity, physical or mental infirmity, even if contracted after incorpora-tion, constitutes a just cause for dismissing one whose temporary incorporation has expired, provided the judgment of experts states that the member cannot lead the life of the institute without doing damage to himself or to the institute. Members temporarily incorporated may be dismissed by the supreme moderator of the institute with the consent of his council, respecting particular law. In order to carry out such a dismissal, it is required: a. that the cause of dismissal, either on the part of the institute or on the part of the member, is grave though it need not involve culpability b. that if the cause is culpable, warning were given in writing and proved useless c. that dismissal is not because of ill heait~ unless it was maliciously kept secret before incorporation, or unless the judgment of experts urges the dismissal in order to avoid injury to the member or the institute. The causes for dismissal should be manifested to the member in writing, full liberty to respond being granted. The response of the member, which ought also to be in writing, should be submitted to the supreme moderator and his council. Members definitively incorporated may be dismissed by a decree of the supreme moderator with the consent of the council, observing the norms of general and particular law. In order to carry out such a dismissal, it is required: a. that the causes of dismissal are grave, culpable, and juridically sound b. that before ~the dismissal, two canonical warnings which threatened dis-missal if not observed, have proved useless c. the causes of the dismissal were communicated to the member, and full liberty of defense was given after each warning. The responses of the member, given in writing, should be included in the acts which are submitted to the supreme moderator and his council for examina-tion. The supreme moderator with the consent of his council may dismiss im-mediately a member: a. who publicly professes apostasy, heresy or schism b. who attempts or contracts matrimony, even if only civil 42 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 c. who culpably was the cause of serious and most grave exterior scandal or injury to the institute. The decree of dismissal must be communicated as soon as possible to the member who has the right of appealing to the Holy See within ten days, with suspensive effect. When a member is dismissed legitimately, ipso facto all bonds, rights, and obligations coming from incorporation also cease. Article 4 Juridical Condition of Those Separated from Institute A member in sacred orders, dismissed from or having legitimately departed from his institute, in order to exercise the sacred ministry, must be accepted ac-cording to law by his own or another diocesan bishop. An institute, in a spirit of equity and gospel charity, should show proper concern for former members. In the report that is made to the Holy See, mention should be made concerning members who have been separated from the institute in any way whatsoever. Part II Things Proper to Different Institutes of Perfection In this section the different kinds of institutes of perfection and their par-ticular characteristics are considered. The foundation of the distinction between these various types of institutes is the manner of apostolate carried on by each one. In order to compose and divide this part, the Committee had to consider intently the theology of the states of perfection and the constitutive elements of the various types of institutes. The content and the theoretical and practical considerations that underlie this section of the new law have been ex-plained clearly and thoroughly by the secretary of the Committee, Mark Said, O.P., in the recent issues of Communicationes) Part II begins with four preliminary canons which apply to each kind of in-stitute. The first three canons contain the principles formulated by Vatican Council II for the vitality and renewal of religious life, and the last canon in the group confirms the eremitical life as a valid form of evangelical perfection. The canons state: There are many institutes of perfection in the Church, displaying various charisms of the Spirit and having different gifts according to the grace which has been given them. These institutes follow Christ more closely either by prayer, by active works which benefit mankind, or by communicating with people in the world. Therefore, given these differences from the Holy Spirit, the mind of the founders and their proposals concerning the nature, purpose, and character of the institute, as well as its sound traditions, must be followed by all. Norms which concern the basic elements, that is, the mind of the founder and proposals concerning the nature, purpose, and sound traditions of the in-stitute, are to be placed in the principal lawbook of each institute, whatever that book might be called; and just as these norms must be approved by the competent authority in the Church, so they may not be changed without per-aCommunicationes, 1973, pp. 63 ff.; 1974, pp. 73 ft. The New Law: Principles, Content, Evaluation / 43 mission from the same authority. Other norms, concerning life, government, and discipline, are ratified and gathered together by the competent authority of each institute, which authority, however, may change and adapt them accord-ing to particular law. In composing these texts, the spiritual and juridical should be combined, and norms should not be multiplied without reason. Though the wording here is not as clear as it might be, the meaning is ap-prehended easily. Basically, these laws repeat the distinction of Ecclesiae sanc-tae concerning constitutions, which are more general and permanent, and directives, which are concerned with changeable and less important items?° This distinction will be familiar to religious who have taken part in general chapters over the past few years. In addition to institutes of perfection, the Church recognizes the eremitical or anchoritic life by which the faithful, withdrawing more strictly from the world, consecrate their lives to the praise of God and salvation of the world through the silence of solitude and by assiduous prayer and penance. An anchorite, recognized in law as a religious, is one who professes under vow the three evangelical counsels and follows a definite rule of life under the guidance of a competent religious superior or local ordinary. Title 1 Religious Institutes These canons contain the essential and integral elements of the form of consecration known as the religious life. For most people, this type of institute of perfection is the most commonly encountered. The laws state: In each religious institute, the members must assume the responsibili!y of the three evangelical counsels, this responsibility being strengthened by public vows, at least at the time of definitive profession, and they must lead a common life ac-cording to the norms of particular law. The public witness which should be rendered to Christ and to the Church by these institutes involves separation from the world according to the spirit and purpose of each institute, as well as use of a fitting habit prescribed by particular law as a sign of the consecrated life. The profession of chastity for the kingdom of God carries with it the obser-vance of celibacy as well as perfect continence by which love of God and of all men is increased and manifested. The profession of poverty for the following of Christ involves, besides a life of work and simplicity, total dependence in the use and disposition of goods, and at least the cession of the administration of one's proper patrimony. Unless one makes a renunciation of patrimony already acquired or to be ac-quired according to the norms of particular law, members are held to make a will, and in view of future profession, to dispose freely of the use and usufruct of their goods. Whatever is acquired by members of the institute through their own work, stipend, or pension, belongs to the institute. The profession of obedience in imitation of Christ carries with it total ~°lbid., 1970, pp. 12-4. 44 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 dedication to the will of God through submission to moderators taking the place of God, offered in a spirit of faith and love according to the regulations of law. Religious should live in community in a house legally constituted, which house may have its own church or oratory in which the Eucharist is celebrated and reserved so that it is the true center of the community. Chapter I Monastic Institutes Monastic institutes are religious institutes whose members, according to the particular traditions of each institute, lead an anchoritic or coenobitic life by conversion to God through prayer and labor so that through apostolic charity and the contemplation of divine things they seek only God and His kingdom. This chapter then considers first monks and afterwards considers nuns. The principle responsibility of monks is to offer humble and noble service to the divine Master within the confines (septa) of the monastery. Monastic in-stitutes which are ordered totally to contemplation remain always a lustrous part of the Mystical Body of Christ and speak of the richness of treasures in the Church; hence, even though the need for active apostolic work is great, let them remain firmly in their state of life. Institutes, however, which would assume some legitimate apostolate or work of Christian charity, should pursue only those things which are consonant with the spirit of monastic life. Monastic institutes, per se, are neither clerical nor lay. A religious house of monks, under the care and government of a proper moderator, is called a monastery, and of itself is an independent entity, particular laws being observed. The moderator of an independent monastery, who is usually called an abbot, is by right a major moderator. Monasteries of the same monastic families may be united in federations, and these federations may be united in confederations, with the permission of the Holy See. Each federation or con-federation is governed by its own law, the autonomy of each monastery, however, being preserved. Each institute should state in its particular law the norms for the monastic and priestly formation of its members. Transfer from one monastery to another of the same family or the same rule may be made with the consent of both moderators and the deliberative vote of the chapter of the receiving monastery, particular law being observed. If one transfers, monastic profession is not repeated, unless particular law states otherwise. Other forms of transfer are governed by common law. Nuns, a more noble part of the flock of Christ, legally are those women who are dedicated primar, jly to a life of contemplation. Those things that are stated concerning monks apply to nuns as well. Monasteries of nuns affiliated with an institute of men receive their way of life and government from the statutes of these institutes. It is fitting, moreover, that they be helped in pur-suing their proper vocation by spiritual care of the institute to which they are affiliated. The papal cloister, which uniquely disposes for contemplative life, The New Law." Principles, Content, Evaluation / should be observed in monast erles of nuns. Statutes concerning the papal cloister in particular law are t~o be approved by the Holy See. Other .I monasteries should observe a cloister that is accommodated to their particular spirit and defined in particular lalw. I Chapter II Religious Institutes~Dedicated to Apostolic Works In institutes dedicated to apostolic works, apostolic activity pertains to their very nature Hence, the whole~ life of the members should be imbued with apostolic spirit, ~nd the total apostolic activity should be informed by the spirit of the instttute. Apostohc act~vtty should always proceed from an intimate union with God and should nourish and confirm this union. Apostolic activity, exercised in the name of and un[ler the guidance of the Church, should be I carried on in ecclesiai commumo,n. Works proper to the institutes should be retained faithfully though adapted to the needs of the times and places, using new and opportune methods" Members of institutes dedicated to apostolic works, by reason of their very vocation, are bound to help bishops and work for the good of the Church under the direction of their own moderators. Bishops and moderators, either alone or in groups, should take common coIunsel in planning the works of the apostolate that will be carried on by the members. Institutes have the right to carry on their proper works, the requirements of law being observed. When opportune, bishops and moderators should e~nter particular agreements for ordering and improving collaboration. In three successive articles theI proposed canons then treat of three kinds of institutes: canonical institutes, conventual institutes, and apostolic institutes. Canonical institutes offer d~wne praise, especially through solemn worship, and they carry on apostolic works[ especially by exercising the priestly ministry in parishes. In order to foster r~gular life, parishes should be committed to them which are close together or close to the principal house. Many indepen-dent chapters of regular canons~ may be brought together under the same leadership; many institutes of the same canonical type may be confederated under an abbot primate with th~ permission of the Holy See. Conventual institutes intimately join the apostolic life with divine praise and regular observance, and they also offer the particular witness of an austere life. Members live a fraternal iif~ in common, especially in the celebration of the Eucharist and the Liturgy of ihe Hours, an

Issue 34.5 of the Review for Religious, 1975. ; Revtew ]or Rehgtous ts edited by faculty members of the School of DIvlmty of St Louts University, the edttorlal ol~ces bemg located at 612 Humboldt Buddmg, 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. Published bimonthly and copy-right (~) 1975 by Review [or Religious. Composed, printed, and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. S!ngle copies: $1.75. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a year; $11.00 for two years; other countries, $7.00 a year, $13.00 for two years (for airmail delivery, add $5.00 per year). Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order payable to Review ]or Religious in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming .to represent Review ]or Religious. Change of address requests should include former ad~ciress. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Galicn, S.J. Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor September 1975 Volume 34 Number 5 Renewals, new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to Review for Religious; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Correspondence with the editor and the associate editor together with manuscripts and books for review should be sent to Review for Religious; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsyl-vania 19131. / ;" ~: :°~Vith these ,words Po o ~t only for Jesmts,~but-~f6r all~rehg~ous;~ )s wh6, .in ~varyingways, ~dentff, y:.o. 671 A Survey of the Thirty-second General Congregation John R. Sheets, S.J. Fr. Sheets, chairman of the theology department of Creighton University and director of its new Masters Degree in Christian Spirituality program, was an elected delegate of his province (Wisconsin) at the 32nd General Congregation. He resides at Creighton University; 2500 Califor-nia St.; Omaha, NB 68178. The Thirty-second General Congregation of the Society of Jesus began on December 2, 1974. It finished its work on March 7, 1975. The Holy See authorized the promulgation of its decrees on May 2, 1975. In this article I will attempt to set down in an intelligible way a description of what went on during those ninety-six days, especially for (hose who are not Jesuits but who are in-terested in the congregation. Having gone over once again both the official documents and the Acta of the congregation, and having tried to recapture.my own experience over those days, I feel keenly the limitations of what follows. In the first place, it is difficult to give a survey of the vast amount of material covered by the various commissions;-secondly, it is hard to detail my own ex-perience without writing an autobiography; thirdly, it would take someone with both a sense of historical detail and a journalistic flair to present the in-terplay that took place among the various identifiable groups within the con-gregation, and also what took place between the Vatican and the congregation. In spite of these reservations, I hope that the observations that follow might provide some insight into what happened, and at the same time provide a counterweight to impressions given to the public through the general press. For me personally the congregation was the peak experience of my life. I am still trying to sort out the reasons for this. There is the obvious fact of hav-ing been part of a decision-making body whose decrees could have momentous importance for the Societ), of Jesus and for the Church at a very critical mo- A Survey of the Thirty-Second General Congregation / 673 ment in history. Again there was the experience of being "companions in the Lord" with two hundred and thirty-six other Jesuits from all over the world, united in the same Ignatian vision, sharing a common purpose, praying and working together to formulate with the help of the Holy Spirit responses to what the Church and the world ask of the Society today. The "honeymoon experience" of the first days gave way, as the weeks went on, to the .experience of fatigue, the perplexities of the search for the proper wording, the experience of working on disparate problems at the same time, without any clear point of convergence. Added to these was the experience of the interaction between the Vatican and the congregation which brought with it great anguish. However, it was also perhaps the experience that changed the congregation from a group of planners relying much on our own wisdom into something approximating an instrument of the Holy Spirit. The whole experience of the congregation in many ways paralleled what a person goes through in making the Spiritual Exercises, where one is subject to the movement of different spirits. On the one hand, it was the occasion of the greatest consolation; on the other, 1 have never in my life experienced such heaviness of heart. There were moments when one could almost feel the presence of the Holy Spirit, particularly at the concelebrated liturgies where one was drawn into the mystery of the communio jesuitarum, both the living and the dead, ~hrough our sharing in the Eucharist. Certainly the con-celebrated Mass, celebrated on the opening day of the congregatiofi in the Gesu, a church hallowed by the memories of Ignatius, Xavier and the early history of the Society, with seven hundred Jesuits participating, was one such moving experience. But if there were consolations, there were also periods of desolation, the worst desolation I have ever experienced. These came from the pall of uncer-tainty cast over the congregation from the communications of the Holy Father through Cardinal Villot in reference to the way the congregation had proceeded on a particular point concerning the Fourth Vow in the Society. This was also the occasion for the Holy Father to remark with pain that he detected from the Acta of the congregation attitudes among the delegates which were at variance with the kind of disposition a Jesuit should have toward the Pope. To be frank, however, it was not so much the interventions of the Holy Father that depressed me. In fact, as events would show, he was under the im-pression that we had received a specific communication on the subject that he had given to one of the delegates to be transmitted to us. But because of a mis-understanding the delegate did not in fact communicate it, and the congrega-tion learned about it only after we had taken a step which seemed to con-travene directly the explicit instruction of the Holy Father. To me the tone of his and Cardinal Villot's letter, while severe, was comprehensible in the light of this misunderstanding on the communication of their earlier message. What was far more upsetting was the sudden change in the mental climate of the congregation. Somewhere Kierkegaard mentions that the sudden is the 1574 / Review for, Religious, Volume 34, 1975/5 category of the demonic. In the course of only minutes, the demon of rumor, suspicion and recrimination was let loose. Suddenly it all fitted into a kind of master plot to discredit Fr. Arrupe, bring about his resignation, and bring to nothing the efforts of the congregation. No one knew who the enemies were, but some gave the impression that there was one hiding behind every column in the Vatican. Among the memories which will always be with me are the occasions when I used to walk in St. Peter's Square at night, when it was deserted, except for a police car and a few pa~sers-by. The majestic beauty of the facade of St. Peter's, bathed by the light of the moon, the beauty of the fountains flashing in the lights, the Vatican apartments with a light here and there, formed a setting of peace which seemed to overflow into me, particularly when events occurred which plunged the congregation into gloom. Looking back over those difficult periods I am certain that if it were not for the example and leadership of Fr. Arrupe we would have lost courage. He transmitted to us both by word and example a sense of the working of God's providence and the life-through-death process in which we were engaged. We were faced with the humbling and humiliating fact that we experts who were supposed to discern the signs of the times could not discern a sign that was much closer to us. In many ways the misunderstandings did not "have to be," when one looks at them from a human point of view. The reports from the press about con-frontation, maneuver and counter-maneuver were the product of journalistic imagination. The sad fact is that pain was caused by people who were trying their utmost to act with responsibility to the Holy Father and to the Society. But I have probably got ahead of myself. All I wanted to do in these in-troductory remarks was to point out that for me personally the experience of those three months led by the diverse paths of joy and anguish to a deeper ex-perience of the ways of God, that "If Yahweh does not build the house, in vain the masons toil." The Procedure Followed in the Business of the Congregation In preparation for this congregation there had been four years of highly organized participation on the level of the local communities and the provinces. The extent of this participation varied. In general, however, it had a beneficial result in creating the awareness that this congregation would grow out of the discernment that took place on the local level rather than work from the top down. Perhaps some might consider that this was a waste of time and money when we measure the results of those years of preparation, and the little impact that it had directly on the congregation. However, the minimal result of this preparation was that at least we did not come into the work of the congregation cold, but had some awareness of the problems that confront us, as there were seen by a large segment of the Society. For those who are not familiar with the structure of the Society of Jesus, a few words of explanation may be helpful. In the Society of Jesus the supreme A Survey of the Thirty-Second General Congregation / 675 authority is vested in the General Congregation. It does not meet at regular in-tervals, but only on two occasions, either to elect a new superior general, or to face a particular state of affairs which can be handled only by the highest authority of the Society. Of the thirty-two congregations that have met in the four hundred and thirty-five years of the Society's history, all except seven have been called to elect a new superior general. When, therefore, in 1970 Fr. Arrupe decided to call a General Congregation to convene after appropriate preparation, he felt that the state of the Society needed to be reviewed. It was an opportune time, since ten years would have elapsed since Vatican II and our last congregation. Delegates to a General Congregation are basically of two kinds: the provincial superiors, who attend by right of office, who make up ap-proximately one-third of the membership of a congregation and the other two-thirds who are elected. The only delegates who were unable to attend the 32nd General Congregation were a few from behind the Iron Curtain. Their unoc-cupied desks remained an ever-present symbol to the assembly of the oppres-sion of the Church in various areas. In spite of these absences, there were two hundred thirty-six delegates present. In the Society of Jesus the agenda is made up after the congregation con-venes. It is based mainly on the postulates (requests) submitted either from in-dividual Jesuits or provinces. Contrary to what one might suspect, there is probably no more democratic legislative group than is to be found in the General Congregation. Any Jesuit can send in postulates either through his province or directly, as an individual to the General Congregation. All of these are considered on their merits independently of their source. Over one thousand postulates were submitted. After a preliminary analysis, it was seen that they could be organized according to ten categories. Ten commissions were set up roughly corresponding to these ten categories. Initially the commissions had a membership of about twenty-five each, com-posed of representatives from different parts of the Society. Later, for the sake of efficiency in composing the documents emerging from the commissions, the number was reduced to four or five. The amount of work that went into the final draft of the documents was enormous. The work of the commission would be submitted to the whole assembly, receive revisions (or even be re-jected), be returned to the commission; then again be submitted to the assembly, with a repetition of the same procedm:e, until the assembly was satisfied with it. The whole assembly convened in a large hall that had been especially renovated for the congregation. Electronic equipment was installed to provide simultaneous translation. Voting was done by means of a small switch at each desk. In the front of the hall in full view of all the delegates was a large elec-tronic board, with indicator lights arranged accordihg to the seating plan in the hail. This board registered the votes with a green light if affirmative or a red, if negative. At the top of the board was a place where the total affirmative and negative vote would register immediately after the vote was taken. All ~'~' ~ ~.~. 676;~ R~i~.w for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/5 voting~'~bhe exception," was public. The exception came at the request of the congregatiori ~hen it came to vote on the question of grades in the Society. Doubtless this pr0ce.dure was intended to provide the general with the oppor-tunity to vote in a way that would not compromise him in whatever future ac-tions he would have to take.as a result of the vote. The Main Themes Seventeen documents issued from the congregation, most of them originating from the ten commissions which had been established. Other documents came from special commissions appointed as the need arose. Though the documents differ in content, some common themes run throughout. Perhaps the main theme reflected in the documents is that of mission. Related to this is a reawakened awareness of the Society as a whole, of which the local communities are part. The Society, while it exists also for the sanc-tification of its members, takes its special meaning from its apostolic orienta-tion. This apostolic orientation is specified by its relationship to the Holy See, particularly through the Fourth Vow, and in its service to the Church through the promotion and defense of the faith. A characteristic of this apostolic orienta-tion is adaptability to the needs of particular times and places. In our day this involves an overriding concern to overcome the injustices which oppress so many millions of people. However, in all of its apostolic work, the goal and the means it uses are to be consistent with the tradition of the Society as set forth in its Formula of the Institute which sets forth its fundamental pontifical law. This ties in with the identity of the Society, a theme that is both the subject of one particular document and one that runs through all of the others as well. The Society is a priestly, apostolic body, bound to the Holy See in a special way for the defense and promotion of the faith. The sense of mission involves not only working with those who are op-pressed but it also involves becoming identified with them as far as this is possible. Our poverty, therefore, which has its juridical as well as evangelical aspects, takes on a particular experiential mode in so far as, by it, we can iden-tify with the poor. The decree that has to do with union of hearts and minds is also intimately related to the nature of the Society as an apostolic body. Ignatius clearly saw that the Society's apostolate depended first of all on the union of the members with God, and then derivatively on their union with one another. One theme which is conspicuous is that of repentence. The Society acknowledges that it has failed in recent years to live up to those characteristics which were suppose to distinguish it, such as obedience, loyalty to the Holy See, fidelity tO the principles of the religious life. The State of the Society One of the commissions set up early in the order of business was the one charged to examine the state of the Society. Its purpose was to form some A Survey of the Thirty-Second General Congregation / 677 kind of an evaluation of the condition of the Jesuit order at this point in its history, assessing both its weaknesses and its strengths. To provide this com-mission with input, the delegates met in small groups over a period of several days. These small groups were of two kinds: what were called "assistancy groups" (for example, all of the American Jesuits belong to one "assistancy," the French to another, etc.), and "language groups," composed of people from different countries who had some facility in their own and other languages (German-English, French-English, Spanish-French, etc.) These groups dis-cussed the state of the Society in reference to key points such as formation of Jesuits, religious observance, the apostolate. These sessions broadened the practical knowledge each of us had of the Society and helped to create among us an awareness of community. They were also informative, first of all in bringing us to realize that many of the problems were common, with varying degrees of acuteness, while others were peculiar to a particular section of the Society. A criticism which many of us in the western world resonated with came from one of the German provincials in my group when he said that the image that the Society in Germany gives is that of B~rgerlichkeit, which in English connotes a comfortable, gentlemanly, middle-class existence. On the other hand, the situation of the Jesuits from behind the Iron Cur-tain, some of whom were also in my language group, has spared them some of the enervating effects of secularization. For one reason, their apostolate, where they are able to exercise it, is mostly pastoral work; secondly, their precarious existence serves to keep their faith at a high level of vitality. The delegates from the Third World countries brought other emphases. From the Spanish speaking countries there was a strong orientation toward social change, bringing with it problems of political involvement and the degree to which such involvement could subscribe to an ideology which often had Marxist overtones. In other regions, such as Africa, Indonesia and the Far East, one of the main problems is "inculturation," embodying the faith and the spirit of the Society in forms peculiar to their own cultures. As part of this evaluation on the state of the Society, Fr. General himself gave a picture of the way he sees the Society at the present, as a body which is very much alive, but with certain illnesses. He also gave a detailed description of his own relationship with the Holy See and the other officials in the Vatican, providing afterwards an opportunity for the delegates to question or discuss any of the points he had brought up. The document on the state of the Society which came out as a result of all this exchange is not one of the papers published to the Society. It was intended only for the delegates and their work in the congregation itself. However, the document is not in fact that useful. Its main value was in providing the oppor-tunity for the delegates to familiarize,themselves with the state of the Society through their live exchanges with one another. A document of this kind by its nature remains general, and gives little sense of the extent and import of either the positive or negative points. 671~ / Review for Religious, l/olume 34, 1975/5 The Work of the Commissions As was mentioned above, ten commissions were formed, more or less along the lines of the categories of material received in the postulates. While a few others later came into being and some of the original ones were changed, these ten commissions formed pretty much the working base of the Congrega-tion. Risking over-simplification, they could be divided into those which looked mainly inward, for example, about our "grades," the Fourth Vow, for-mation, final incorporation into the Society (final vows), central government, the constitution of provincial and general congregations; those which looked outward, namely, the mission of the Society today, inculturation, the service of the Society to the Church; and finally those which look both inward and outward, for example, on union of hearts, the Jesuit today. Some comments on a few of the documents might contribute to a better understanding of them. 1. The Mission of the Society Today The decree which took up the lion's share of the time, and which provided the platform for most of the rhetoric was the one that dealt with the mission of the Society today. The very nature of the topic explains why it took so long to come up with a satisfactory formulation. It involves an articulation that had to bring together the old and the new: fidelity to the essentials of the Society's apostolic nature, and coming to grips with the needs of today. While such a formulation has its own difficulties, the problem was exacer-bated by an initially one-sided approach and by the impression that some gave of using language more appropriate to political parties than to a religious group attempting to clarify its mission. The initial approach was largely horizontal, too much concentrated on the socio-economic aspects, with too lit-tle of the priestly. In the effort to make the congregation conscious of the urgency of these problems there was a tendency to absolutize what was in fact only one aspect of the Society's apostolate. One of the observations offered by Cardinal Villot in the letter in which he com-municated the Pope's authorization to promulgate the work of the congregation pertains to this decree. He stresses an important point, which is already present in the decree, but which deserves emphasis, namely, that the total work of evangelization has a comprehen-sion that cannot be reduced to working for social justice, and secondly that there is a priestly way of working for social justice that is distinct from the proper role of the laity. No one can judge from the final document how much work went into it. If one were tothink of a carpenter shop filled with shavings, and one tiny cabinet to show for the work, the comparison would be apt. The final decree, though somewhat diffuse, manages to relate the fundamental apostolic orientation of the Jesuit life as a priestly order to the promotion of faith which in the real-life situation is inseparable from the promotion of justice. 2. Poverty The. subject of poverty has continued to bedevil our recent congregations. A Survey of the Thirty-Second General Congregation ] 679 As everyone knows, there are two main aspects to what is called religious poverty: the juridical and the evangelicalwor the personal appropriation of the values of evangelical poverty. The decree on poverty, probably the most im-portant document to come out of the congregation, has two parts, the first be-ing more inspirational and exhortatory, while the second is juridical, setting down a basic reform in the structures of our institutional practice of poverty. It is not possible to enter into the technicalities of the juridical part of the decree since it presupposes some knowledge of the structure of the Society. Suffice it to say that the decree formulates what is, to my mind, a creative way of realizing for our own times the Ignatian ideal of poverty, taking into con-sideration the different socio-economic conditions of the twentieth and six-teenth centuries. On the personal side, frugality, the sense of being part of the kenotic mystery of Christ, dependence on the community, and identification with the poor are stressed. in his letter, Cardinal Villot makes two points concerning this decree. After commenting on the fact that the Holy Father was aware of the immense amount of work that had gone into this decree, which attempts to relate the traditional practice of poverty in the Society to the needs of our times, he says that considering the newness of the approach, it would be better to promulgate the decree ad experimentum, to be reviewed in the next General Congregation. He also cautions that the decree should not jeopardize the Society's traditional approach to gratuity of ministries. 3. Grades and the Fourth Vow No other subject discussed by the congregation received as much attention from the press as that of our "grades" and the Fourth Vow. As I remarked above, the delegates had proceeded in a spirit of obedience to the Holy Father's wishes, but in the spirit of Ignatian obedience which allows represen-tation of one's case to the superior, with full openness, however, to the final decision of the superior. But, as I mentioned above, the delegates were not aware of an important communication from the Holy Father which he had given to one of the officials manifesting his mind clearly on the topic. We were made aware of this special communication only after we had proceeded in good faith to take up the question, and to give an "indicative" votewone that is not definitive, but from which it is possible to infer the mind of the delegates. The indicative vote was overwhelmingly in favor of abolishing grades. One can imagine the consternation of the Holy Father when he read of the results of this in the Acta, a copy of which he received regularly, especially when he learned that we had not been given his specific directive on this matter which had been communicated to one of the officials of the congregation. This unfortunate series of events precipitated a strong response from the Vatican. First there was a letter from Cardinal Villot in the name of the Holy Father expressing his consternation at the proceedings. Later there was a letter from the Holy Father himself, tin which he expressed his wonderment, pain, disappointment. What the delegates found particularly difficult to understand in Cardinal Viilot's letter was the strong language used about the failure of Fr. Arrupe to exercise the proper kind of leadership that could have headed off this series of unfortunate events. I~1~0 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/5 While the delegates were still reeling from this unexpected turn of events, they learned of the directive that had been given by Cardinal Villot to one of the officials to be given to the congregation. The official explained before the whole congregation that he had not understood that he was supposed to transmit this directive to the delegates in any official way. This was a costly mistake. Yet in some ways I think it was a felix culpa because of the benefits which came out of it, as I shall comment below. At this point I should say something about the meaning of the grades and the Fourth Vow for those unfamiliar with the Society's structure and legisla-tion. When the idea of the Society was evolving in the mind and experience of Ignatius, one of the features that emerged was a conception of having membership in the Society on different levels, or "grades." For those with their final vows, there were to be three levels or grades. First of all, there are the "solemnly professed," with solemn vows of poverty, chastity, obedience, and a Fourth Vow of special obedience to the Holy Father in regard to mis-sions, that is, apostolic commissions. In the past one hundred years about 40% of Jesuit priests have belonged to this grade. In the mind of Ignatius the professed were supposed to exemplify to a special degree what he looked for in every Jesuit, proficiency in learning, a high degree of virtue, mobility, a life supported only by free-will offerings, exemplifying in their lives a similar relationship to the Vicar of Christ that the disciples showed toward Christ Himself. In addition, key positions in government were reserved to the professed, such as the office of provincial. Again, only the professed could take part in a General Congregation. In the second place, there were priests whose final vows were simple, not solemn. Without going into detail on the differences between solemn and sim-ple vows, it is sufficient to remark here that for one thing they differ accord-ing to the seriousness of the reasons needed for dispensation. This grade is that of "spiritual coadjutor." Members of this grade do not take the vow of special obedience to the Holy Father. In the third place, there are "temporal coadjutors" or brothers. Their final vows are also simple vows of poverty, chast.ity, and obedience. They have the same apostolic purpose as the priests, but have a different way of contributing to the realization of it. The grades are a feature that are peculiar to the Society. As one would sur-mise, the distinction has not been an unmixed blessing in the history of the Society. Though Ignatius never conceived of a Society which would have privileged and unprivileged castes, human nature being what it is, the results were predictable. Since human nature associates power with authority, the professed came to be considered as a kind of first-class type of Jesuit, and the non-professed as second-class. In recent years there has been much historical research on the origin of the ~grades. Also there has been considerable discussion whether the distinction of ~the grades was inextricably tied up with the vision of St. Ignatius, or whether it was something that with the change of times no longer served a purpose. The A Survey of the Thirty-Second General Congregation Thirty-first General Congregation did not face the question head-on. It con-tented itself with broadening the norms by which a person could be admitted to profession. It also transmitted the final solution of the problem to the Thirty-second General Congregation. The intervention of the Holy Father did not directly concern grades. He limited himself to the question of the Fourth Vow, which he said could not be extended to non-priests. This intimates that the Holy Father was concerned not simply about a juridical division in the Society which could be changed by another law, but about a theological question concerning the relationship between the priestly identity of those who take the Fourth Vow and the mis-sions which are the direct object of the vow. Again (I am speculating) the intervention of the Holy Father might be a healthy reminder in this age of blurring all distinctions for the sake of dubious notions of equality, that differentiation in functions does not necessarily mean division. Reserving the Fourth Vow to priests helps to keep the priestly focus of the apostolic work of the Society which has characterized it from the begin-ning. This need not create first- and second-class citizens, but it could engender an awareness that there are different gifts within the same body by which the same goal is realized. 4. The Union of Hearts A commission without a name was set up as a kind of catchall to handle four topics that on the surface had little unity: the question of union and pluralism, communal discernment, religious life, and community life. Since I was a member of this commission from beginning to end, I feel more in touch with it than with the other commissions. It was a kind of a "Benjamin" com-mission compared with those set up to handle the "important" topics like mis-sion, grades, poverty, etc. Ironically, Benjamin was suddenly given an importance late in the con-gregation. The Holy Father in his intervention had commented on the fact that he had heard a lot about mission and justice, but little about renewal of the religious life, even though we had already been at it for two months. So all of a sudden the pressure was on to come up with something significant along those lines. The final document on union of hearts is a contemporary commentary, on Chapter One of Part VIII of our Constitutions, "Aids Toward the Uniori of Hearts." Under this heading the commission found a focus which could unite the various topics given to it. Much effort was spent in an attempt to formulate a clear statement on the subject of union and pluralism. Many of the postulates asked for such a state-ment, some of them stressing the harm coming from internal divisions, others emphasizing the need for a "healthy pluralism." Eventually the commission decided that a theoretical statement would not be helpful. Instead it for-mulated, along with principles on which union of hearts is based, certain prac-tical directives on prayer, community life, sacraments, and communal discern-ment. 682 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/5 The subject of communal discernment received a lot of discussion. Some wanted to turn it into a kind of Aladdin's lamp which could call forth some kind of a jinni. Others were more skeptical over the possibility of univer-salizing the practicableness of such a process. The final statement in the docu-ment attempts to locate communal discernment within the spectrum of various kinds of spiritual exchange within a community, not exaggerating its role, but on the other hand recognizing the value that it has when the right dispositions and circumstances are present. Incidentally about midway through the congregation, an ad hoc commis-sion was also established to see whether the congregation itself could not carry on its work through a method of communal discernment. After a couple of meetings, it dissolved, because it felt that proceeding according to a formal method of communal discernment was impractical for the congregation because of the large numbers involved and the wide range of subjects on the agenda. 5. The Jesuit Today In the light of the diversity that has appeared in Jesuit life over the past ten years, it was felt necessary to have a statement which would describe the meaning of being Jesuit today. The congregation was presented with five different papers, each of which approached the subject of Jesuit identity from different points of view. They opted for the one which now appears among the official decrees. The decree relates Jesuit identity today in a very simple way to our Igna-tian tradition, to our apostolic mission, and to the source, center, and goal of Jesuit life, which is the imitation of Christ. The Holy See and the General Congregation We have already commented on the intervention of the Holy See in regard to the subject of extending the Fourth Vow to non-priests. However, this is only an application of something which is much broader. The interest of the Holy See in this congregation is unparalleled in the whole history of the Society. Perhaps this comes from the fact that Pope Paul had a keen sense of its importance for the Society and for the Church itself. I have just finished once again going over the papal documents, beginning with the letter written to Fr. Arrupe on September 15, 1973, which the Holy Father wrote after Fr. General had announced the convening of the General Congregation, and concluding with the covering letter which was added to the approbation of the decrees. There is one theme running through all of these communications: the necessity of being faithful to the distinctive nature of the Society as it is expressed in the Formula of the Institute, a distinctiveness which has proved its fruitfulness over hundreds of years of experience. Specifically, the Society is described time and time again as a priestly apostolic order, with a special bond of obedience to the Holy See. There is, to be sure, a stress on the need to adapt to the needs of our times, but such adap- A Survey of the Thirty-Second General Congregation I 683 tation must always maintain the essentials as these are to be found in the For-mula. 1 Pope Paul wrote of his concern for the Society not only as the Vicar of Christ who has responsibility for the whole Church, but in terms which, unless I am mistaken, are unprecedented in the history of this relationship between the Society and the Holy See. He speaks of himself as the one who has the chief responsibility for the preservation of the Formula of the Institute, "supremus 'Formulae Instituti' fideiussor," and the chief protector and preserver of the Formula, "Formulae Instituti supremus tutor ac custos." It would not be true to say that all of the delegates responded with un-qualified enthusiasm to the interventions of the Holy Father. Though all recognized his right in abstracto to intervene, a~nd the corresponding attitude of obedience to which we were obliged and, which all gave without contesta-tion, nevertheless when the interventions came in this particular way, with these particular words and in this particular timing, there were signs of ruffled feelings. In case anyone needed reminding, we learned in the process that the delegates as a whole, while good and responsible men, are not yet ready for canonization. However, we did see in an exemplary way the incarnation of Jesuit obedience in at least one person, Fr. Arrupe. This was not something he did just "to give good example." His whole life has been so totalized by his faith that even his perceptions pick up the reality beneath the appearance. He senses the presence of the Vicar of Christ beneath the appearance of Pope Paul. The concern of the Holy Father shown in so many ways over the past few years and in a special way through his vigilance over the activities of the con-gregation are to my way of thinking a special grace for the Society. In a way that we never planned on, the interventions of the Holy Father brought us to a level of faith we would not have reached by ourselves. It also brought us to a realization that the Society is a servant of the Church. In some small way the history of this congregation parallels the description of Peter's death, about whom our Lord said, "You will stretch out your hands, and somebody else will put a belt round you and take you where you would rather not go" (Jn 21:18). Father Arrupe I have already mentioned that if it were not for Fr. Arrupe's example and leadership the congregation would have capsized under the difficulties it ran into. He constantly called us to a vision we needed in order to see what was happening from a supernatural point of view, and in order to avoid the traps of tNot many Jesuits are aware either of the content or the importance of the Formula of the Institute. Yet, even more than the Constitutions, it is the basic rule or fundamental code of legisla-tion in the Society. It contains the results of the deliberations of Ignatius and his companions in 1539 which provided the first sketch of the Institute of the Society of Jesus. It was first approved by Paul Iil in 1540, then again by Julius 111 in 1550 in a slightly revised form. 684 / Review for Religious, l/olume 34, 1975/5 self-pity or recrimination that were only too present. Like one of th~ prophets, he reminded us to see what was happening as coming from the hand of God, and to use it for our own purification and conversion. In a talk given to the delegates on the second day of the congregation, he spoke of the answer that we had to give to the needs of our times. It should be the foolishness of the cross by which Christ redeemed the world, which is the wisdom of God. "In the absolute foolishness of the Cross, the emptying of all things, we find the key to the ultimate solution to the problems of today." In a way we did not foresee, those words were prophetic. Again, he exercised his leadership by leaving the congregation free to follow the paths where its deliberations would take it. In its authority, the General Congregation is superior to the general. Fr. Arrupe always acted with full awareness of this fact. On occasion he would let the delegates know how he felt about certain things, not to pressure them, but in order to make this part of the input of their deliberations. The congregation showed its appreciation of his leadership over the past ten year,s in many ways. There are few who have had to pilot a ship through such a stormy period. The burden has not been easy. But there is always evi-dent in him the same buoyancy and infectious joy that somehow puts him in touch with the Stillpoint that is beyond, above, beneath the storm. Yet, while realizing his outstanding qualities, the delegates did not apotheosize Fr. Arrupe. They realized that with all of his gifts there were also limitations. In fact, the decree which set up a council for the general was framed mainly to supply the kind of help which might balance out the one-sidedness of some of his gifts. Differences Between This Congregation and the Previous Ones The Thirty-second (2ongregati0n had many characteristics which made it very different from any preceding General Congregation. Some of the more important ones might be the following. As was mentioned above, there was a four-year period of preparation for this congregation which was unprecedented. Similarly a few months before the actual opening day a special preparatory commission met to organize the material. This was the first General Congregation where, from the start, traditional rules of secrecy were lifted, except for the prohibition against making public either the names of delegates who spoke on the different questions, or the tally of the votes. Five Jesuit journalists were given free access to the meetings. They published a report about every week that kept the Society informed of the progress of affairs. In this Congregation for the first time the voices of the Third World were not only heard in larger numbers, but they showed a vitality that added zest to the meetings. However, even among these voices there were different accents. All of them were keenly aware of the injustices which oppress their peoples by reason of the exploitation of the capitalistic countries. However, the Spanish- A Survey of the Thirty-Second General Congregation / 685 speaking delegates tended to stress political and social involvement; the Africans continually reminded us of the need for the sense of the transcendent, the specifically God-and-Christ-centered nature of our apostolate; and those from the Far East, while keeping these same perspectives, also stressed the need for approaches that were directed both toward personal conversion and change of the structures. No other congregation has met at a period when there has been such a crisis in vocations. Over the past ten years, the Society has diminished from about 36,000 to 30,000 members. While in some places the number of novices has begun to pick up again, the overall picture remains dim. In 1965 there were 1902 novices compared to 705 in 1974. In the United States there are about 200 novices, showing a slight increase over the past few years. In some coun-tries, however, the picture is dismal. Spain, for example, had 269 novices in 1965. In 1974 it had only 30. Germany had 114 in 1965. At present it has about 30. Similar figures could be given for France, Belgium, Holland, Italy. When one compares the number of scholastics presently in their training with the number of priests engaged in apostolic work, there is only one scholastic for every five priests. This will seriously change the scope of our apostolic work over the next fifty years. Another unique factor was the everpresent concern of the Holy See in regard to the preparation for the congregation, the things taken up, and the final results, as I have mentioned above. The theme was repeated over and over again: be faithful to yourselves, especially to your identity as it is ex-pressed in your Formula of the Institute. The only specific feature which was singled out in the expressions of this concern was fidelity to the lgnatian idea of the Fourth Vow, both positively in the fact that it should be a vital factor in the life of the Society, and negatively in that it should not be extended to non-priests. Again, the fact of asking the congregation to submit its decrees to the Holy See for its approval before they were promulgated was unprecedented. The approbation was given with, in some instances, a few qualifications. Another characteristic which distinguishes this congregation from begin-ning to end and is evident in the decrees is thee theme of repentance. There is a mea culpa, mea maxima culpa evident in the Introductory Decree, the Decree on Mission, on The Jesuit Today, as well as in others. The Society is painfully conscious of its failings over the past ten years. Particularly in contrast to the Thirty-first Congregation, with its stress on freedom, subsidiarity and conscience, this one stressed the complementary features of the limits of pluralism, the need for norms that are applicable for Jesuit life as a whole, the responsibility of superiors for a greater firmness in governing, the importance of the manifestation of conscience both for the spiritual direction of the individual, and the good of the apostolate, the value of communal discernment when the proper conditions are realized. This congregation, unlike others, had a unifying theme throughout: the mission of the Society today. This did not happen because it was planned. There was a kind of unconscious dynamic at work which imperceptibly gave 686 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/5 this orientation to the various decrees. The consciousness of mission, if fully appropriated in all of its richness, could do much to revivify the Society, over-coming in the first place a great deal of individualism and self-will, and bring-ing about a greater sense of the living presence of Christ sending through His Church, and through superiors. In the actual procedure of the congregation there were unique features arising from the sharing that took place in smaller groups. One of the most im-portant parts of our daily life was the concelebrated Mass which was celebrated according to the different language groupings. Finally this congregation is probably distinctive in the fact that a little over half of the delegates were under forty-nine years old (122 out of the 236). Strengths and Weaknesses of the Congregation Like all meetings of this kind there are both strengths and weaknesses to be found. I could not resist the temptation to say that one of the strengths was un-doubtedly sheer psychological tenacity to "keep at it" for over three months when everyone was exhausted both from the work itself and the emotional strain. But the main strength of the congregation is the sense of solidarity manifest among the delegates and throughout the Society, a solidarity coming from a vision based on faith and brought into an Ignatian focus through the Spiritual Exercises and our Jesuit tradition. However, I think that there are also some deficiences evident in the work and structure of the congregation. Some way has to be found to expedite the carrying out of business. Though it was an attempt to get the input from the whole Society, on balance, the analysis of the postulates took up too much time. And questions of order consumed interminable hours. In regard to particular questions, in retrospect, it might have been a serious mistake not to have separated in some way the question of the Fourth Vow from that of grades. While they are related, they are distinct. And the interven-tion of the Holy See was concerned with the Fourth Vow, and not directly with grades. Again the expression given to the relationship of the Society to the Holy Father is "safe," but it creates the impression of one who is driving a car with one foot on the accelerator and the other on the brake. It does not seem to ex-press the 61an of Jesuit spirituality in its fullness. One reason for this inade-quacy stems from the fact that the congregation came to the topic only in the last few days before it ended, and the members did not have the mental energy or the time to do justice to it. Another difficulty is in the formulation itself. Attempts to combine both the unreserved expression of the spirit of loyalty and the juridical aspect of limits tend to cancel one another out. For example, there were numerous attempts, all sterile, to speak of "mission" in relationship to "doctrine," wherein loyalty would be unreserved in regard to mission, but conditioned in regard to doctrine. Consequently the resulting statement is bland, not nuanced. This will probably be one of the main topics that will have to be taken up at the next General Congregation. A Survey of the Thirty-Second General Congregation Another deficiency is the fact that the congregation treated those problems which are more obvious because they have a certain shrillness--the problem, for example, of global injustice. Just as important, however, but without the volume being turned up, are questions touching man and technology, par-ticularly the genetic manipulation of man. Again, these questions will probably have to be faced by the next congregation. What to Hope For If the Society as a whole could translate what is set down in the decrees from formulation into fact, it would be renewed. In turn it would become a great force in renewing the Church and the world. What hope is there for such a renewal? The parable of the sower and the seed has its application to the Society as well as to the Church. There are those whose roots are not deep enough to withstand trials. There are others whose life of faith is choked by cares and riches. But then there are the many who do yield fruit, some, a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. Decrees, however excellent, are no substitute for the gospel-call to totality. To the degree that individuals open themselves to the radical call of the gospel will they also open themselves to the decrees, which after all are only a faltering attempt to express this radical call in a way that is both Ignatian and contemporary. There are many factors which will contribute to energizing this renewal. Many feel a need for a deeper life of prayer. The importance of spiritual direc-tion is expressing itself strongly. A fuller appropriation of the Spiritual Exercises ¯ through the directed retreat is a great blessing. Again, an important factor is the reinforcement and leadership given to the Society by other religious con-gregations which have already led the way in the renewal of religious life by bringing their lives more in conformity with gospel simplicity and single-mindedness. We can also hope that we will not repeat the mistakes of the past ten years. Considering the turmoil and confusion coming from "future shock," these mistakes are perhaps understandable. But no organization can exist in a state of continuous convulsion. Many of the delegates, in searching for answers to the problems which faced us "discovered" our Thirty-first Congregation, which someone described as the great congregation in the history of the Society. We found that in many cases we could not do better, in fact could hardly come up to the decrees of the Thirty-first. But we also felt like a traveler who had spent hours trying to find his way only to discover after much meandering that there was a map in his glove compartment. The documents of the Thirty-first General Congreg -tion were such a map. The logical question, then, is: why were not the decrees implemented? A still more haunting question is: will the same thing happen to the decrees of this congregation? This was a problem which preoccupied the delegates throughout the whole time. Meetings were held to discuss implementation. But as the saying goes, 61~! / Review for Religious, l/olume 34, 1975/5 there is many a slip,between the cup and the lip. How much will the Society be able to drink in from the decrees? One of the main sources of hope, in addition to those mentioned above, is a renewed sense of solidarity and confidence among the provincials, and a strong sense of support in Fr. General. In the past ten years very often inaction resulted not from a failure of courage or faith, but because of a blurring of ideas concerning the fundamentals of religious life, often enough because of contradictory views bandied by theologians. The provincials obviously have not suddenly received some formula of universal application to solve all problems, but there is a greater sense of assurance and direction. The weight of implementation turns around the local superiors with the support of the provincials. There is hope here also, because the superiors themselves have a greater sense of their solidarity and of their role as spiritual leaders of the local communities. Ultimately the problem is always the same: conversion. It is something never accomplished once and for all, but continues to repeat its call. There are the perennial obstacles to conversion: inertia, self-love, self-will, the evil spirits that affect us all as individuals. However, it especially in the way that the collectivity reenforces the inertia in individuals that we find the main obstacle today. Group-think and group-feel, in large part created through the media, produce a kind of closedness that filters down from a collective level to in-dividuals, bringing about imperceptibly a closedness in the individual. Each one, young or old, is caught in some degree on this split level of collectivity and self, and suffers from the unfreedom of the collectivity. Jesuits already engaged in the apostolate have to discern how much this group-think affects their personal lives, impeding their personal conversion and the fruitfulness of their apostolate. Jesuits who are in formation have to do the same. The responsibility of those who are in charge of training the younger Jesuits is great. The importance of the congregation comes not from the written decrees but from the support that these decrees give to creating in the Society a different kind of group-think, a "group-feel" based upon the gospel. "My name is legion." Legions can be driven out only by legions. The demonic in collectivity can only be driven out by the embodiment of holiness in collec-tivity. The Society will rise or fall to the extent that the good will of the in-dividual is supported and sustained by a corporate realization of sanctity. No individual can abdicate the responsibility for his own conversion. But in a special way superiors have a responsibility for the whole group. Newman remarked somewhere that good is never done except at the expense of those who do it, and truth is never enforced except at the sacrifice of its propounders. Reformers and prophets have never been well received. Perhaps superiors are destined to enter into that role, not, however, with a martyr complex or heaviness of heart. We have a living example in Fr. Arrupe that it is a role that is compatible with a deep joy. Aiding and facilitating the work of the superiors are the communities A Survey of the Thirty-Second General Congregation / 689 themselves which are called upon, through community meetings and prayerful discernment, to face their own response to the gospel call to simplicity, and to bridge the gap between the radical response to which we have vowed our lives and the actual way in which we live them. When I asked one of the delegates who was in great part responsible for the formulation of the decree on poverty how optimistic he was about its im-plementation, he said: "When I think of human nature, I am not very op-timistic. But when I think of the power of the Spirit, 1 am hopeful. Everything depends on the Spirit. Legislation can support; it cannot convert. Of ourselves we are weak, but with the power of the Spirit we can overcome, overcome even ourselves." POSITION OPEN The Department of Theology in the School of Religious Studies of the Catholic University of America announces the opening, beginning January, 1976, for: Assistant, Associate or Full Professor in the field of Christian Spiritual Theology. Applications should be sent to:Chairperson Department of Theology Catholic University of America Washington, DC 20064 The Catholic University of America is an equal ol~portunity employer. The Recovery =of Religious Life Bro. Raymond L. Fitz, S.M. Bro. Lawrence J. Cada, S.M. Both authors belong to the Marianist Training Network. Brother Raymond Fitz is director of the Marianist Institute of Christian Renewal and associate professor of Engineering Management and Electrical Engineering at the University of Dayton. He lives at 410 Edgar Avenue; Dayton, Ohio 45410. Brother Lawrence Cada is chairman of the Department of Science and Mathematics at Borromeo College of Ohio and lives at 315 East 149 Street; Cleveland, Ohio 44110. I. Introduction~ How long will the turmoils now besetting religious life last? Are they almost over, and has the process of returning to a more normal situation begun? Or will things stay unsettled for some time to come? This article will argue for the likelihood of the latter alternative. On the basis of the models and analyses presented, the article will try to show that religious life in America is undergo-ing a profound transition, which will take another twenty to twenty-five years to run its full course. Moreover, the study will seek to demonstrate that social disintegration (loss of membership, lack of vocations, collapse of institutions, etc.) of religious communities in the Church will probably continue for at least the next ten to fifteen years. The most significant questions facing religious life in those ten to fifteen years will center on "death and dying." Many aspects of the life as it has been known will be passing away. Only after these questions are accepted and creatively answered can religious life be expected to be revitalized and renewed within the Church. This process will demand both a recovery of that deep dynamic impulse which first gave rise to religious life in the Church and a recovery from the malaise through which it is now passing: tThis is a draft of a work in progress. Feedback on the content and style of this paper would be ap-preciated. 690 The Recovery of Religious Life hence the title "The Recovery of Religious Life." Although much of this arti-cle argues for the plausibility of these assertions and their implications for the future of religious life, there will also be provided an explanation of how the data were collected and organized, and of what was called important or unim-portant. In this sense, these assertions represent a starting bias that informs the entire article. As such, this bias merits being stated at the outset. The approach taken in this article2 is to explore the questions about the future of religious life from a historical and sociological point of view. In the first two parts of the article, two models are developed: a historical model of the evolution of religious life as a movement in the Church and a sociological model dealing with the organizational life cycle of an individual religious com-munity. Then, in the final sections of the article, these two models will be used to address questions about the present condition of religious life and its future. Every model represents a simplification of reality, and the models in this arti-cle are no exception. To arrive at the questions posed in the final sections, the article will digest and condense large amounts of material drawn from a variety of sources that are partially indicated in the notes. It is hoped that this simplification is not a serious distortion of the facts and that it will arrange the historical and other data in such a way as to provide an overview from which some tentative generalizations can be made. II. The Evolution of Religious Life: A Historical Model Religious communities in the life of the church are not fixed and static en-tities. Taken together they make up a historical process unfolding over time, and religious life can be viewed as a significant social movement in the history of Western Culture. As parts of a movement, religious communities arose in response to dramatic social change in the Church and in the larger cultural and political arena of Western Civilization. They became a dynamic force in shap-ing and cha~ging the Church and secular culture. They have been both a cause and an effect of social change: the founding of religious communities has fre-quently been a response to major developments of society, and the evolution of the Church and Western Culture has been significantly influenced by the life and work of religious communities. As in all social movements, the role of myth, the emergence of belief systems, the fashioning of institutions and social structures, and the role of personal transformation and commitment are central to the evolution of religious life. The dynamic interplay of all these elements creates, sustains and limits the histo~'ical unfolding of religious communities. ~This article grew from a variety of experiences over an extended period of time with multiple presentations at workshops and reflections from many religious. Especially helpful were Fr. Norbert Brockman, S.M., Sr. Gertrude Foley, S.C., Bro. Thomas Giardino, S.M., and Sr. Carol Lichtenberg, S.N.D. The scheme of dividing the history of religious life into the five eras presented in the second part of this article was first suggested in a lecture given by Fr. David Fleming, S.M., at the University of Dayton in December, 1971. 692 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/5 A. Organizing Concepts One way to view the unfolding of religious life within the Church is to look at how the image of religious life has evolved over time and what implications this evolution has had for the functioning of individual religious communities.3 The term dominant image of religious life is used here to name a multifaceted reality that includes how religious view their life and its functions and role within the Church and the world during a given period. The term is also meant to indicate the sense of history which permeates religious life at a given time. How do people, both the religious and the members of society at large, picture the past of this way of life? What kind of future are religious supposed to be creating? The process by which the dominant image of religious life evolves in time can be characterized by a repeated sequence of identifiable phases of change: - Growth Phase. A relatively long period of elaboration and develop-ment of the dominant image of religious life and its implications. - Decline Phase. A period of crisis in which the dominant image of religious life comes under strong question. Religious communities seem no longer suited to the aspirations of the age. Religious com-munities lose their purpose, drift into laxity, and disintegrate. Transition Phase. A comparatively short period of revitalization in which variations of the dominant image of religious life emerge and one of these is gradually selected as the new dominant image. - Growth Phase under a New Image. A period of elaboration and development under the new dominant image of religious life. The supposition that religious life has passed through a succession of such phases of growth, decline, and transition is the basis of a model that can be used to organize and interpret the data of the history of religious life.4 The remainder of this section is devoted to illustrating a way this model might be constructed. 3Some sources used to clarify the notion of dominant image were Fred Polak, The hnage of the Future, translated and abridged by Elise Boulding (San Francisco: Jassey-Bass, 1973); Changing Images of Man, Policy Research Report No. 4, Center for the Study of Social Policy, Stanford Research Institute, May, 1974; and Kenneth E. Boulding, The Image: Knowledge in Life and Society (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1961). *Some sources used to clarify the notion of social evolution were Stephen Toulmin, Human Understanding-I (Princeton: P. U. P., 1972); Anthony F. C. Wallace, "'Paradigmatic Processes in Cultural Change," American Anthropologist (Vol. 74, 1972), pp. 467-478; Donald T. Campbell, "'Variation and Selective Retention in Socio-Cultural Evolution," in H. R. Barringer, G. I. Blanksten, and R. W. Mack (¢ds.), Social Change in Developing Areas (Cambridge, Mass.: Schenkman, 1965); Edgar S. Dunn, Economic and Social Development." A Process of Social Learn-ing (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins U. P., 1971); and Thomas S. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1962). The Recovery of Religious Life / 693 The following questions have been used in fashioning the model. First, there are questions about variation that deal with searching and experiment-ing. Under what conditions do variations appear in the dominant image of religious life? If these variations lead in certain directions, what factors in culture, the Church, or religious life itself influenced the choice of those direc-tions? Second, there are questions about selection. What determines which variations in the dominant image of religious life are selected out to serve as essential elements of a new image of religious life? How do members of religious communities distinguish well-founded and properly justified variations from those which are precipitous, not well thought out, and hasty? ¯ Finally, there are questions about retention that deal with incorporating and establishing the new. How are selected variations incorporated into religious communities? What processes are needed? What set of factors distinguishes in-novations which endure from those which disappear quickly? B. Major Eras in the Evolution of Religious Life Using the concepts described above, the history of religious life can be divided into five main periods: the eras of the Desert Fathers, Monasticism, the Mendicant Orders, the Apostolic Orders, and the Teaching Congregations) The description of these eras given in this section constitutes the historical model that will be used in the final portion of this article. 1. Era of the Desert Fathers The first period was the Era of the Desert Fathers. Following the earliest manifestations of religious life in the mode of consecrated virgins and widows within the Christian communities of the persecuted Church, ther~ emerged the image of the religious as the ascetic holy person. The description of the her-mit's life given by Athanasius in his Life of Anthony crystallized an ideal which inspired both solitary anchorites and many communities of cenobites. The desert was seen as the domain of the demons to which they had retreated after being driven out of the cities by the triumph of the recently established Church. It was to this "desert" that generous men and women withdrew to 5Factual and historical data on the history of religious life were gathered from such standard sources as The Catholic Encyclopedia (1907), The New Catholic Encyclopedia (1967), the An-nuario Pontificio, The Official Catholic Directory, and The Catholic Almanac. Some of the other sources on this topic were Raymond Hostie, S.J., Vie et mort des ordres religieux (Paris: Descl~e de Brouwer, 1972); David Knowles, O.S.B., Christian Monasticism (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1969); Humbert M. Vicaire, O.P., The Apostolic Life (Chicago: Priory Press, 1966); Derwas J. Chitty, The Desert a City (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1964); Owen Chadwick, John Cassian, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: C. U. P., 1968); William Hinnebusch, O.P., "'How the Dominican Order Faced Its Crises," Review for Religious (Vol. 32, No. 6, November, 1973), pp. 1307-1321; William A. Hinnebusch, O.P., The History of the Dominican Order, 2 vols. (New York: Alba House, 1966, 1973); Teresa Ledochowska, O.S.U., Angela Merici and the Company of St. Ursula, 2 vols. (Rome: Ancora, 1969); William V. Bangert, S.J., A History of the Society of Jesus (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1972); and Adrien Dansette, Religious History of Modern France, 2 vols. (New York: Herder and Herder, 1961). 69t~ / Review for Religious, lZolume 34, 1975/5 carry on the Church's important work of doing battle with the devil in the wilderness as Christ had done long ago. In this way the desert came to be seen as a place of austere beauty, where the monk was trained in the ways of perfec-tion. He returned from time to time into the midst of his fellow Christians, who saw in him the power to do good--healing the sick, casting out demons, comforting the sorrowful with gentle words, reconciling the estranged, and above all urging everyone to put nothing in the world before the love of Christ. This image captured the imagination of the Christian world as news about the Desert Fathers spread from Egypt to all points of the Roman empire. Throughout the 4th century monasteries sprang up on all the shores of the Mediterranean. By the 5th century, the golden age had begun to fade. In the East, the monks had become embroiled in doctrinal controversy. In the West, TABLE 1: ERA OF THE DESERT FATHERS (200-500) Dominant Image of Religious Life. The ideal of religious life is the holy ascetic who seeks " the perfection of Christ as a solitary or in community with a group of monks. Disciples withdraw into the "desert" and place themselves under the care of a master ascetic who teaches them the ways of perfection. They live nearby as hermits or gather in cenobia or monasteries where the master is the superior. The monk prays, mortifies himself, does battle with the devil for the sake of the Church, and spends his life seeking union with Christ. 2nd and 3rd Centuries 251 Anthony horn Consecrated virgins and widows live a form of 271 Anthony withdraws into the desert RL within Christian communities of the early 292 Pachomius born Church during the persecution. 4th Century 313 Edict of Milan 325 Pachomius founds cenobium 356 Anthony ~lies 357 Athanasius writes Life of Anthony 360 Basil founds monastery in Cappadocia 363 Martin founds monastery in Gaul 376 Melania founds monastery on Mount of Olives 393 Augustine founds monastic group in Hip-po 399 Cassian, disciple of Evagrius, migrates from Egypt to West Hermits and cenobites flourish in the Egyptian desert. Various forms of solitary and com-munity RL spread around eastern rim of the Mediterranean (Palestine, Syria, Cappadocia). First monasteries are founded in the West. 5th Century 410 Alaric sacks Rome RL continues to expand in the East. Spread of 415 Cassian founds monastery in Marseille wandering monks and various kinds of 455 Vandals sack Rome monasteries in the West while the western half 459 Simon the Stylite dies of the Roman Empire crumbles. 476 End of western Roman Empire 1st TRANSITION: SPREAD OF BENEDICT'S RULE The Recovery of Religious Life / 69t~ the foundations of Roman civilization weakened under the onslaught of the barbarian tribes, and the ties between the eastern and western halves of the Empire began to break apart. The monasteries in Gaul and other parts of the moribund West became refugee cloisters, where the monks gathered the few treasures of civilization they could lay hold of. As dusk settled on the glories of imperial Rome, the stage was set for the rise of feudal Europe and with it the next period in the evolution of religious life. 2. Era of Monasticism The next period was the Era of Monasticism. In his attempt to regularize religious life as "a life with God in separation from the world," Benedict produced a new dominant image of religious life. This image was not only a correction of the abuses which had crept in during the 5th and 6th centuries, it also, and more importantly, turned out to be a successful adaptation of religious life to the feudal society of the Dark Ages and the early medieval period. Benedict's short and practical Rule furnished workable guidelines for all monastic activity and every age and class of monks. It combined an uncom-promising spirituality with physical moderation and flexibility. It emphasized the charity and harmony of a simple life in common under the guidance of a wise and holy abbot. By the 9th century, this new image had spread to virtually all the monasteries of Europe. The ideal of the Benedictine monk became the model for Christian spirituality and played a part in the stabilization and unification of society. Various modifications, such as the Cluniac, Carthusian, and Cister-cian Reforms, maintained and adapted the dominant image to the developments in European society. Cluny and the Cistercians devised methods of uniting monasteries into networks that became harbingers of the modern order. However, by the time the 'first stirrings of urbanization began at the end of the 12th century, the dominant image began to show its inadequacies and once again laxity in religious life was not uncommon. There was also a great debate between monks and canons about which form of religious life was a more authentic embodiment of the apostolic ideal. As the civilization of the high Middle Ages began to emerge, new possibilities were felt in society and with them came the opportunity for a transition in religious life. 3. Era of the Mendicant Orders When Francis and Dominic launched their communities, they ushered in the next period, the Era of the Mendicant Orders. As mendicant friaries sprang up in towns across Europe, they met with an initial hostility which could not fathom how this new style could be an authentic form of religious life. Gradually, though, the new image of religious life became acceptable, and it proved to be a much better adaptation of ~:eligious life to the needs of urban society than was possible for the monasteries in their rural settings. During the course of the 13th century, even the monastic orders established studia close 696 / Review for Religious, l/olume 34, 1975/5 to the new universities, where the mendicants were flourishing. As Christen-dom was passing through its zenith, the image of a religious life unen-cumbered with landed wealth played a key role in the cultivation of the in-tellectual life by the Church within society and in the preaching of the Gospel for the Church. TABLE 2: ERA OF MONASTICISM (500-1200) Dominant Image of RL. Life in a monastery is the ideal of the religious. The daily round of liturgical prayer, work, and meditation provides a practical setting to pursue the lofty goals of praising God and union with Christ. Within the Church and society, the monks set an example of how deep spirituality can be combined with loving ministry to one's neighbor and dutiful fidelity to the concrete tasks of daily living. 6th Century 529 Benedict founds a monastery to live ac- Spread of monasteries throughout western cording to his Rule Europe (Gaul, Spain, Ireland, etc.). Various 540 Celtic monasticism takes root in Irela'nd formats. Excesses and laxity are common--as 590 Columbanus founds monastery in Lu~r are wandering monks. euil 7th and 8th Centuries 642 Arab conquest of Egypt Gradual spread of Benedict's Rule to.more and 700 Venerable Bede more monasteries of Europe. Missionary 746 Boniface founds monastery in Germany journeys of Celtic monks to evangelize 755 Canons of Chrodegang founded northern Europe. 9th Century 816 Regula Canonicorum of Aix-la-Chapelle Observance of Canons Regular is made uni- 817 Charlemagne's son decrees that form by the spread of the Rule of Aix. Con- Benedict's Rule is to be observed in all solidation of Benedict's Rule. Virtually all monasteries. This project coordinated by monasteries are "Benedictine." Benedict of Aniane. 910 Cluniac Reform 1084 Carthusian Reform 1098 Cistercian Reform 10th and llth Centuries Various reforms breathe new life into Benedict's ideal and introduce organizational variations. 1111 Bernard joins the Cistercians 1120 Premonstratensians founded 12th Century Canons Regular unite into orders which are a variation of the monastic networks of Cluny and Citeaux. Military orders attempt a new form of RL which is temporarily successful (Knights of Malta, Templars, Teutonic Knights, etc.). 2nd TRANSITION: RISE OF THE MENDICANTS After a rapid flowering, the mendicant orders were affected by the same changes which spread across the Church and European society in the 14th and 15th centuries. As the Renaissance presaged the new humanism, the secularization of European society, and the breakup of the unity of Christen-dom, there emerged the conditions for yet a new kind of religious life. The Recovery of Religious Life / 697 TABLE 3: ERA OF THE MENDICANT ORDERS (1200-1500) Dominant Image of RL. The simple friar who begs for his keep and follows in the footsteps of the Lord is the ideal of RL. He prays as he goes, steeping himself in the love of Christ. Unencumbered by landed wealth, the mendicants are free to travel on foot to any place they are needed by the Church. They hold themselves ready to preach, cultivate learning, serve the poor, and minister to the needs of society in the name of the Church. 1211 Franciscans founded 1216 Dominicans founded 1242 Carmelites founded 1256 Augustinians founded 13th Century Mendicant friaries spring up in medieval towns across Europe. These foundations lend themsel~,es to work in the new universities and the apostolate of preaching. Rapid expansion of the mendicant orders. Monastic orders make some attempts to take up the style of the mendicants. 1325 75,000 men in mendicant orders 1344 Brigittines founded 1349 Black Death 1400 47,000 men in mendicant orders 1415 Hus burned at the stake 1450 Gutenberg 1492 Columbus 1500 90,000 men in mendicant orders 14th Century ~tabilization and slow decline of the mendicant orders. Abuses in RL are prevalent. 15th Century Various reforms restore the mendicant ideal and produce a gradual increase in membership. First stirrings of the Renaissance introduce an uneasiness into the Church and RL. 3rd TRANSITION: THE COUNTER-REFORMATION 4. Era of the Apostolic Orders The transition to the next period in religious life, the era of the Apostolic Orders, happened with the Counter-Reformation. Not long after Luther sparked the Protestant Revolt, the new image of religious life appeared with the foundation of various orders of Clerics Regular, the chief of which were the Jesuits. The verve and style of this new foundation set the pace for religious life, The mendicant orders had taken up this ideal in part by joining in the mis-sionary conquests,of the Church in the newly discovered lands. The new image also spurred religious to come to terms with the secularizing trends of the scientific revolution, modern philosophy, and the rise of nationalism in Europe. Jesuits, for example, could be found in the royal courts of almost all of Europe's Catholic kingdoms, in the laboratories of the new scientists, and teaching the youthful Descartes at La Fl~che. As the proponents of the Enlightenment testily challenged the very ex-istence of the Church, a slow decline descended upon religious life. Large and nearly empty monasteries dotted the European countryside. Jansenist and Enlightened thought undermined the.rationale for religious life from opposite directions. The Bourbon kings succeededin persuading Rome to suppress the 69~! / Review for Religious, l/olume 34, 1975/5 Jesuits in 1773. On the eve of the French Revolution, worldwide membership in all the men's religious orders stood at about 300,000; by the time the Revolution and the secularization which followed had run their course, fewer than 70,000 remained. Many orders went out of existence. As the 19th century began, there was need of a thorough-going revival of religious life, which could realistically cope with the new consciousness of Europe. TABLE 4: ERA OF THE APOSTOLIC ORDERS (1500-1800) Dominant Image of RL. Religious are an elite of dedicated and militant servants of the Church with a high level of individual holiness, a readiness to defend the Church on any front, and the zeal to win new expansion for the Church to the very ends of the earth. 1517 Luther sparks the Reformation 1535 Ursulines founded 1540 Jesuits founded 1541 Francis Xavier sails for Far East 1545 Trent starts 1562 Discalced Carmelite Reform 16th Century RE virtually wiped out in Protestant Europe. Founding and expansion of a new kind of RL in the format of the Clerics Regular. These groups work at shoring up the Church's political power in Catholic Europe, reforming the Church, and spreading the Gospel in the foreign missions. 17th Century 1610 Visitation Nuns founded 1625 Vincentians founded 1633 Daughters of Charity founded 1650 St. Joseph Sisters founded 1662 Ranc6 launches Trappist Reform 1663 Paris Foreign Mission Society founded 1681 Christian Brothers founded 1700 213,000 men in mendicant orders Flowering of spirituality, especially in French School, leads to new foundations such as the various societies of priests and clerical con-gregations. Bulk of men religious still belong to mendicant orders. 1725 Passionists founded 1735 Redemptorists founded 1770 300,000 men in RL in world 1773 Jesuits suppressed by Rome 1789 French Revolution starts 18th Century A few clerical congregations emerge, but RL as a whole seems to be in decline due to the in-roads of Enlightenment thought, Jansenism, wealth, and laxity. Weakened RL is given the coup de gr?tce by the French Revolution, which sets off a wave of political suppression and defection in France and the rest of Catholic Europe. 4th TRANSITION: FRENCH REVOLUTION 5. Era of the Teaching Congregations The revival of religious life which occurred in the next period, the Era of the Teaching Congregations, set off in a new direction. There were about 600 foundations of new communities in the 19th century. They were, for the most part, dominated by the movement of educating the masses. For the first time The Recovery of Religious Life / 699 in European history, the idea of educating everyone had the possibility of be-ing concretely realized. The new congregations joined in this movement in hopes of planting the seeds of a hardy faith in the souls of the children they taught by the thousands. This zeal for the education of children was combined with a cleansed Jansenistic spirituality to form the new image of religious life. While the activity of religious spilled over into other apostolic works such as hospitals, teaching set the pace. Even the few pre-Revolution orders which were managing a slow recovery took on many of the trappings of the typical 19th century teaching congregation. For the first time in the history of religious life, recruitment of adult vocations was almost completely displaced by the acceptance of candidates just emerging from childhood. Through the end of the 19th century and on into the 20th the religious who gave themselves to this demanding work of teaching edified the Church and produced a brand of holiness which was most appropriate for a Catholicism which sought to strengthen a papacy denuded o.f worldly power and to care for the masses of the industrialized wor.ld in need of christianization. By the mid-1960's membership in religious communities reached the highest point in the history of the Church. In the last decade, this trend was reversed for the first time in more than a century. Crises have set in which some ascribe to a loss of identity TABLE 5: ERA OF THE TEACHING CONGREGATIONS (1800-present) Dominant Image of RL. Religious dedicate their lives to the salvation of their own souls and the salvation of others. The style of life of religious men and women blends in intense pursuit of personal holiness with a highly active apostolic service. Identity with the person of Christ unites this two-fold objective into a single purpose. 19th Century 1814 French Restoration; Jesuits restored by Rome 1825 Fewer than 70,000 men in RL in world 1831 Mercy Sisters founded 1850 83,000 men in RL in world 1859 Salesians founded 1870 Papal infallibility declared Revival of RL after widespread state sup-pressions. Numerous foundations of con-gregations dedicated to a return to authentic RL blended with service, principally in schools. Old orders, such as Jesuits and Dominicans, rejuvenated in the format of the teaching con-gregations. Church gradually centralizes around the papacy and isolates itself from secular trends of the modern world 20th Century 1950 275,000 men in RL in world 1962 Vatican II starts; 1,012,000 women in RL in world 1965 335,000 men in RL in world 1966 181,500 women in RL in U.S. 1972 879,000 women in RL in world 1973 143,000 women in RL in U.S. 1974 227,500 men in RL in world Expansion and solidification. In the sixties, crises set in from within RL due to loss of iden-tity and inroads of secularizing process. Numerous defections and decreasing numbers of new members. 5th TRANSITION: (?) 700 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/5 and the inroads of secularism. It seems that another transition in the long history of religious life has begun. Further considerations will be undertaken in the remainder of this article to better analyze the present situation. 11I. The Life Cycle of a Religious Community: A Sociological Model The previous section of this paper focused on a historical model for the evolution of religious life as such within the Church; in this section attention is turned toward the life of the individual religious community or institute. To this end, a sociological model for the life cycle of individual religious com-munities which organizes the important dimensions of each period in the life of the communities is developed.6 This model allows further probing of the questions concerning the plausibility of a revitalization of religious life, since revitalization of present religious communities is one way that religious life as a whole will be renewed. A. Organizing Concepts To date, only thirteen men's religious orders in the entire his.tory of the Church have ever surpassed a membership figure of 10,000 at some point of their existence. The membership pattern of three of these orders--the Dominicans, the Minims, and the Jesuits--is graphed in Figure 1 below. Although these three examples are taken from among the largest orders of the Church, they are representative of the membership pattern in most religious communities, large or small. Typically one finds one or more cycles of growth and decline in the number of members. These membership patterns suggest a dynamic of inner vitality that goes on in a religious community. Using such analogies as the human life cycle and other cycles of growth and decline, a sociological model has been devised which divides the life cycle of an active religious community into five periods: foundation, expansion, stabilization, breakdown and transition. The model is shown schematically in Figure 2. The shape of this curve is intended to repre-sent the over-all vitality of the community as it passes from one period to the next. In the following section salient events and characteristics which typify each of these periods are described. An attempt is also made to isolate the crises which occur during each period. ~Some sources used to clarify the notion of a life cycle were Hostie, Vie et mort; Wallace, "'Paradigmatic Processes"; Gordon L. Lippitt and Warren H. Schmidt, "Crisis in a Developing Organization," Harvard Business Review (Vol. 45, No. 6, November-December, 1967), pp. 102- 112; and Lawrence E. Greiner, "Evolution and Revolution as Organizations Grow," Harvard Business Review (Vol. 50, No. 4, July-August, 1972), pp. 37-46; Thomas F. O'Dea, The Sociology of Religion (Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice-Hall, 1966); Luther P. Gerlach and Virginia H. Hine, People. Power and Change: Movements of Social Transformation (Indianapolis: Bobbs- Merrill, 1970). The Recovery of Religious Life / 701 _z 20 LLI ~ lO 30 1200 1300 ! \/ , st 1400 1500 1600 1700 I t I t I I I II ! I ! 1800 1900 2000 Figure 1: Membership of Dominicans, Minims, and Jesuits IFOUNDATIONIEXPANSION ISTABILIZATION BREAKDOWN TRANSITION Figure 2: Life Cycle of a Religious Community B. The Periods of the Life Cycle 1. The Foundation Period The first period in the life of a religious community centers around a found-ing person and his or her vision. The founder or foundress undergoes a radically transformi,ng experience, which can usually be pinpointed to an event or series of events, and .which is perceived as an abrupt shift in the founding 702 / Review for Religious, I/olume 34, 1975/5 person's identity and a timeless moment in which a vision or dream is received. Contained in the transforming experience is a new appreciation of the message of Jesus which leads to innovative insight on how the condition of the Church or society could be dramatically improved or how a totally new kind of future could be launched. A new impetus to live the religious life in all the totality of its demands is felt, and a new theory emerges that is at once a critique of the present, an appropriation of the past, a compelling image of the future, and a basis for novel strategies. The founding person's transforming experience is followed by the initial emergence of the community. A fortuitous encounter takes place between the founder or foundress and some contemporary men or women in which the founding experience, the innovative insight, the emerging theory, and the call to holiness are shared. The group unites under the guidance of the founding person to search for and invent new arrangements for living the Gospel together and working toward the realization of the Kingdom of God. The foundation period may last ten to twenty years or longer and fre-quently coincides with the last part of the founding person's lifetime. Integra-tion and cohesion center on the founding person and still more deeply on the person of Christ. The structural identity of the community appears in seminal form, and authority in the community springs from the wisdom of the found-ing person. Founding events of religious communities have a uniqueness about them which has caused them to be especially treasured as significant moments in the Church's past. Examples of founding persons and their visions readily come to mind: Angela Merici's dream of a new kind of religious life for women that centered on an active apostolate; the hopes of Robert of Molesme to restore fervor through the primitive observance of Benedict's Rule in the wilderness of C~teaux; Don Bosco's contagious vision of loving Christ and joyfully serving the poor. The more striking cases of founding persons receiving their in-spirations have become part of the common heritage of all religious: Anthony hearing in a Sunday Gospel the words which were the key to his life's aim; Ignatius retiring to Manresa to receive his visions. For the most part the foundation period is a time of grace and charism for a new religious community. But there are also crises that must be faced. The crisis of direction forces the community to decide which undertakings are im-portant and which must be sacrificed. The crisis of leadership confronts the community with the problem of finding out how it will live beyond the time of its founding person. The crisis of legitimization engulfs the nascent community in the question of whether or not the Church will approve it as an authentic form of religious life. The Waldensians, for example, showed some signs of becoming a new religious order on the pattern of the mendicants, but they never overcame the crisis of iegitimization. Instead of becoming a religious community, they ended up as renegades who had to hide out in the woods of medieval Europe. The Recovery of Religious Life / 70a 2. The Expansion Period When the community has emerged from the foundation period, it un-dergoes a fairly long period of expansion, during which the founding charism is institutionalized in a variety of ways. A community cult and belief system solidifies, a community polity is fashioned, and community norms and customs take hold. As members of the community's second generation mature and grow older, they recount stories of the foundation, which they have heard from the pioneers or have themselves experienced in their youth. These stories enshrine decisive events which set the community's direction or establish its characteristic traits. Gradually, rituals and symbols which express and com-memorate the most treasured facets of the foundation are fused with the.iore of the older members into a sort of sacred memory and cult that begins to be passed on from generation to generation as the community's "founding myth." Attempts are made at thinking through the founding myth and expressing it in terms of contemporary thought patterns. Eventually these efforts result in theories, interpretations, and social models which coalesce into a belief system and give a rational structure to the more intuitive thrust of the founding myth. Simultaneously, procedures are devised for community decision making and communication, and bit by bit the community's polity.takes shape. Norms are set down and customs emerge which cover all aspects of the community's life, such as membership criteria, leadership standards, and apostolic priorities. The members of the young community experience an excitement about the growth and success which characterizes the expansion period. Large numbers join the community, and new works are rapidly taken on which enhance the possibility of a still broader recruitment. Major interpreters of the founding vi-sion are recognized. Patterns of spiritual practice are determined, and the community's spirituality is made concrete in manuals of direction or other written documents. With expansion come certain organizational crises. How is authority to be delegated? What means will be used to integrate and tie together the rapidly expanding network of establishments and the burgeoning membership. When Bernard joined the Cistercians thirteen years after their foundation, he led the community through this kind of organizational crisis. In the process, a new en-tity, the general chapter, was invented to cope with the situation, and this in-novation is still a standard feature.of most religious orders today. Another crisis of this period centers on maintaining the pristine vigor of the founding vision. As rival interpretations arise, which will be discarded? A classic exam-ple of this kind of crisis occurred in the great debates about poverty among the early Franciscans just after Francis died. 3. The Stabilization Period After a fairly long expansion, which may last two to three generations or "/04 / Review for Religious, l/olume 34, 1975/5 longer, there ensues a period of stabilization. Numerical increase in membership may continue, but geographical expansion usually slows down. The stabilization period may last a century or more, but it is sometimes as brief as fifty years or so. A feeling of success pervades the community during the stabilization period. Members experience a high degree of personal satisfaction from simply being in the community. The prevailing image of religious life is clear and accepted. It provides a basis for describing unambiguous social roles for religious. The community is accomplishing its purpose and this purpose is self-evident. The need to improve is not seen as a need to change things but simply to do better what is already being done. Gradually, as stabilization sets in, more and more of the community assumes that religious life has always been the way it is now and that it will always remain so in the future. There is little need to elaborate the understanding of the founding vision or penetrate into it more deeply. It is simply accepted and repeated to new members who join. No one is left in the community who knew the founding person or the first dis-ciples personally. Memory of the founding events takes on the cast of past his(ory that is separate from the present moment. Formation of new members emphasizes their conformity to standard patterns of external behavior that are seen as the best means of cultivating interior commitment. The over-all feeling of success which is so typical of the stabilization period is not illusory. There is in fact a job that is being done and done well by the many generous religious who devote themselves to its accomplishment. The kinds of crises that Crop up during the stabilization period are linked to the other characteristics of the period. The crisis of activism occurs. Members become so absorbed in work that they lose sight of its spiritual and apostolic underpinning. They allow the satisfactions of accomplishment to dis-place a centeredness in Christ. Loss of intensity is another crisis of the stabilization period. Is it possible to maintain the intensity of vision and com-mitment among members, now that the community has become so highly in-stitutionalized? They can often be simply carried along by the sheer inertia of the community's activity and held in place by the pressure of social expecta-tion placed on their role as religious from people in the Church. Another danger stems from the crisis of adaptation. In the midst of success the com-munity is seldom open to adaptation, and any changes that have to be made are fraught with difficulty. Quite often, even the most legitimate changes are rejected, and their proponents are righteously and intolerantly silenced. The failure of later Jesuit missionaries to implement the ideas of Matteo Ricci con-cerning Confucian practices among Chinese Catholics is perhaps a good ex-ample of the sort of resistance to adaptation that can be found during the stabilization period. 4. The Breakdown Period Eventually the seeming immutabilities of the stabilization period start to give, and the religious community enters the breakdown period. The The Recovery of Religious Life / 705 breakdown may be gradual and last a half a century or more, or it may be rapid and run its course in a few decades. In either case, what happens is a dis-mantling of the institutional structures and belief systems that arose in the ex-pansion period and served the community so well during the stabilization period. This collective decline gives rise, in turn, to stress and doubt in the in-dividual members. Initially .a number of persons become dissatisfied with the current state of the community. Perhaps they are simply struck by what they judge to be the silliness of some of the community's customs or procedures. Or they may come to see that the community's life and work are not equipped to handle im-portant new challenges. Unanswered questions about the function and purpose of the community begin to accumulate and start to raise doubts. Levels of in-dividual stress increase slowly at the beginning, but then rise rapidly as doubt spreads to more and more levels of the community's social structure. To handle the growing problems, standard remedies are tied. All that is needed, it seems, is to get back to doing well what has always been done and to renew commitment to the community's mission. However, the usual problem-solving techniques become increasingly ineffective. A sense of crisis grows as community authority and decision-making structures become confused. The community's belief system begins to appear archaic and bound in by the trap-pings and articulations of a bygone age. The founding experience and myth, which had been internalized by the community's early generations, is no longer felt by the members. As the community loses its sense of identity and purpose, service to the Church becomes haphazard and lacks direction. Moral norms in the com-munity are relaxed and some members perhaps distract themselves with sex and a misuse of wealth. There is a net loss of membership through increased withdrawals and decreased recruitment of new members. The crises that arise during the breakdown period center on the various phenomena of decline in the community. The crisis of polarization can become acute when those who have faith in the community as it was align themselves against those who in varying degrees reject the community as it is. The crisis of collapsing institutions sets in as the community is forced to stop doing "business as usual" and abandon long-established works. The resulting demoralization leads to the crisis of the community's impending death. What is to be done as the chilling awareness grows in the community that it is inex-orably listing into disintegration on all sides? 5. The Transition Period The breakdown is followed by a period of transition. Three outcomes are possible for religious communities during this period: extinction, minimal sur-vival, or revitalization. Extinction, the first of these outcomes, occurs when all the members of a community either withdraw or die and it simply passes out of existence. This happened, for example, to 76% of all men's religious orders founded before 706 / Review for Religious, l/olume 34, 1975/5 1500 and to 64% of those founded before 1800. From a historical perspective, then, a reasonable expectation would seem to be that most religious com-munities in the Church today will eventually become extinct. A religious community which does not die out may go into a long period of low-level or minimal survival. If the membership pattern of presently existing religious orders founded before the French Revolution is examined, one finds that most of them enter into a period lasting across several centuries in which the number of members is very low. In fact, only 5% of all men's orders founded before 1500 and only 11% of the orders founded before 1800 have a current membership which is larger than 2,000. The Minims (Figure 1) are typical of the orders which once were quite large and now have a small membership. This type of outcome should not be interpreted as a dis-appearance of vitality in every case. The Carthusians, for example, follow this membership pattern. Yet they seem to be living UP to their reputation of never having relaxed their observance--never reformed and never needing reform. To this day the order's spiritual impact appears greater than its numerical strength. There is also a small percentage of religious communities which survive the breakdown period a~d enter into a period of revitalization. At least three characteristics can be singled out in all communities which have been revitalized in this way: a transforming response to the signs of the times; a reappropriation of the founding charism; and a profound renewal of the life of prayer, faith, and centeredness in Christ. The time in history fn which revitalization occurs seems to make a difference. If the revitalization occurs during one of the shifts in the dominant image of religious life singled out in the historical model above, the com-munity takes on many of the characteristics of the emerging image, and the transforming response to the signs of the times seems central to the revitaliza-tion. If the revitalization occurs midway during one of the major eras in the history of religious life identified earlier in this article, the revitalization takes on the characteristics of a reform with the reappropriation of the founding charism playing a central role. In either case the community experiences the revitalization as a second foundation. Personal transformation or conversion is central to revitalization. With personal transformation comes innovative insight and a new centering in the person of Christ. The innovative insight allows the transformed individuals within the community to develop critical awareness of the assumptions un-derlying the traditional meaning of the community and functioning of that community within the Church and the world. This innovative insight brings with it a focusing of energies through a new positive vision of what the com-munity should be in the future. The vision allows the emergence of a new theory which gives meaning to the experiences of individuals and the shared events lived within the community and spurs the community to building and creating its future. Such a new theory guides the community in the search for The Recovery of Religious Life / 707 and the invention of new models ~of living together as a community bound by. the evangelical conditions of discipleship in the service of the Church. A more complete sketch of the human dynamics of revitalization will be given in the last section of this article. The essential components of this dynamic, namely, insight and vision, and new theory and new models, are mentioned at this point to complete the picture of the life cycle of a religious community. Some limitations of this sociological model and the historical model of the previous section are given in the next section together with some generalizations that can be drawn from the models. IV. Some Limitations and Generalizations A. Limitations of the Models Before proceeding, some concluding and cautionary remarks must be made. Evidently the rapid overview of the history of religious life given in the first portion of this article should not be taken as anything more than a demonstration of how the evolution of religious life can be interpreted so as to fit the model of the five main eras that are being postulated in the proposed historical model. The account is far too compressed and over-simplified to provide an adequate and proi~erly nuanced telling of the story of religious life. For example, little attention was given to the Canons Regular, who constituted a significant portion of men religious from the Middle Ages to the French Revolution. There was no discussion of the medieval military orders nor of Orthodox monasticism. A still more gaping lacuna is the almost complete absence of any analysis of the way women's religious life differed from or followed the same pattern as that of the men. It may be that the sources used in this study were not sensitive to the distinctive role women actually played in the evolution of religious life. On the other hand, it may be that up to the present time the trends of women's religious life have been very parallel to those in the men's orders. The models proposed for the evolution of religious life and for the life-cycle of a religious community are also both simplifications. Some might validly question, for example, whether there were just five major eras in the history of religious life and whether the transitions between the eras occurred as clearly as the historical model suggests. The description of the dominant image of religious life for each era is a simplification of what was in every case a rather complex phenomenon. Hopefully, the liberties that have been taken are justified by the intention of trying to synopsize the history of religious life in such a way as to make some tentative insights more easily accessible to someone who is not a professional historian. Similarly, the breaks between the successive periods in the life cycle of a religious community are nowhere near as clear-cut as the proposed sociological model suggests. In .history, breakdowns sometimes occur within one order in different geographical locales at different times. Revitalizations often occur in some places for an order, while it decays elsewhere. At times 708 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/5 there are orders in which the role of the founding person is rather minor and does not have the decisiveness described in the model. Some communities have been founded in rather modest historical circumstances that were not accom-panied by the profound inspiration described in the model. These and similar qualifications must be kept in mind when the sociological model is used to in-terpret the life cycle of any particular community. B. Generalizations The models presented in the previous sections suggest some generalized conclusions. These conclusions can be helpful in exploring the present crisis of religious life. The historical evidence suggests that there have been significant shifts in the dominant image of religious life across the centuries. These shifts seem to occur when there are major societal changes astir and when the Church is un-dergoing major changes. The first transition happened as the Roman Empire fell in the West and feudal Europe was beginning; at the same time the rift between western and eastern Christianity was starting. The second transition occurred as feudal Europe was giving way to medieval urbanization and as the Church was gathering all of Europe into the unity of Christendom. The third transition took place at the start of the modern period of Western Civilization as the Church underwent the shock of the Reformation. The fourth transition resulted from a direct attack of society on the Church as a whole and on religious life in particular. Admittedly each of these changes in the culture and the Church differed from one another in many respects. However, the pattern seems clear enough at least to permit one to ask whether perhaps another shift in the dominant image of religious life would happen if major changes in society and the Church should come to pass. Although religious communities have been founded in almost every cen-tury of Christian history, it seems that each major shift in the dominant image of religious life is heralded by some significantly new foundations which em-body a new image in an especially striking way. This could be said of the earliest Benedictine monasteries for the first transition, of the Franciscans and Dominicans for the second transition, of the Jesuits for the third transition, and of the plethora of 19th century foundations for the fourth transition. It also seems to be the case that many communities go out of existence at each transition. Those that survive either continue in a diminished form or somehow blend the new dominant image with the charism of their own foun-dation to get another lease on life. The mendicant orders, for example, grew numerically stronger during the Era of Apostolic Orders as they adapted their own special gifts to the new style of religious life. The culture of the high Mid-dle Ages was rapidly and irretrievably passing away, but the mendicants adapted and flourished. One might ask, then, if the Church would witness the death of many religious communities and the foundation of new and different ones if a shift in the dominant image of religious life were to occur. The remainder of this article will explore the plausibility of maintaining that The Recovery of Religious Life / 709 another major transition has in fact begun in the history of religious life. Should this hypothesis be true, it would be appropriate to pose questions about h6w religious life is dying and how a recovery and revitalization might happen. Another observation that suggests itself from this brief survey concerns the continuity that underlies the shifts of the dominant image of religious life. As the image evolves it continues to hold up the impelling ideal of a radical following of the conditions set forth by Christ for an evangelical discipleship embedded in a life of prayer and deep faith. While the contemporary religious would probably not feel called to take on the externals of the life of the Desert Fathers, he or she will surely understand and be drawn to the stark beauty of the life of radical discipleship that moved Anthony to withdraw into the desert. Similar remarks could probably be made about the ultimate aims of the first Franciscans and the first rugged band of Jesuits. Through all the twists and turns in the make up and style of religious life, there is a deep core of seeking union with Christ in a special and total way that endures century after century. A great deal of historical precedent would have to be explained away by anyone who would wish to maintain that religious life is about to disappear as a separate and distinguishable way of life in the Church. The historical pattern seems to be one of repeated recovery. The present moment is indeed a time of trouble for religious communities, but religious life as a whole will doubtlessly survive. Turning to the sociological model, some further generalizations can be made. In the evolution of a religious community the non-rational elements of transforming experience, vision, and myth play a central role. This is es-pecially true during the periods of foundation and revitalization. Although necessary for each period in the life-cycle of a community, the techniques of rationality (long-range planning, leadership training, etc.) will never be suf-ficient to found a religious community or to revitalize one. The renewed vitality that comes to some religious communities during the time of transition finds its source in plumbing the depths of.the mythic and non-rational and in-tegrating them with the more rational dimensions of human life. A central insight of the myth of original sin is that humankind is not capable of sustained development; breakdown and disintegration are ever-recurring manifestations of the human condition. Since religious men and women exist within the human condition, it should not be surprising that, from time to time, all religious communities experience an extensive period of significant breakdown and disintegration. These bleak realities should be em-braced with humble acceptance of th~ human condition and a faith-filled hope that the Lord will in time resurrect life-giving initiatives from the death-dealing processes of breakdown. V. Where Does Religious Life Stand Today? In the previous sections of this article, the history of the religious-life movement in the Church and of particular religious communities was ex-amined to determine the major factors within culture, the Church, and 710 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/5 religious communities themselves that significantly influence the evolution of this movement. Generalizations from the proposed models indicate that major. transitions are likely to occur in religious life when secular culture is in the midst of a major crisis, and when religious life has experienced a period of major breakdown. The factors can serve as a useful matrix for answering the question, "Where does religious life stand today?" As was mentioned in the in-troduction, the answer proposed in this article is that religious life is undergo-ing a pervasive transition that will last for the next twenty to twenty-five years and which will significantly change the style of life and service of religious communities. The plausibility of this assertion is developed in this section. A. Signs of Transition in Secular Culture Many writers have noted that contemporary culture is in the midst of a societal transition. Some compare the present time to the Renaissance. Others claim that the present multifaceted change is equal to if not greater in magnitude than the agricultural and industrial revolutions. Many strands of societal transition have been pointed out. Spiritual, intellectual, philosophical, psychological, political, economic, and many other crises in society have been described by writers from a wide range of disciplines. For the purposes of this article, a cluster of these difficulties, which might be broadly termed the socio-economic crisis, will be summarized below as a sample of the sort of comment on contemporary society being made today. Catastrophic events and critical trends are continually reported by the news media. These reports range from widespread famine in the Sahel and South Asia to the continued downward spiral of the national economy. Careful analysts and writers have noted that these events and trends are a manifestation of the parallel growth of a set of interrelated critical issues which they have designated as the "world problematique.''7 A list of the critical issues that make up the "world problematique" would include: Energy Problems: Runaway growth in domestic and worldwide use of energy; shortages and scarcity of energy; insufficient capital resources to develop new energy sources. Food Problems: Food supply unable to meet the demand for food; worsening of weather conditions through pollution; increasing food prices due to food scarcity and increasing cost and consumption of energy; deterioration of arable land through increased urbaniza-tion and ecological undermining; actual widespread famine; potential long term problems of hunger and famine. Pollution Problems: Rise of pollution-induced illness; exponential increhse in the pollu-tion of the air and seas; denuding of natural environment through strip mining. 7.Some sources used to examine the "world problematique" were Kenneth E. F. Watt, The Titanic Effect: Planning for the Unthinkable (Stanford, Conn.: Sinauer Associates, Inc.); Donella H. Meadows, et al., The Limits to Growth (Washington: Potomac Associates, 1972); Mihajlo Mesarovic and Eduard Pestel, Mankind at the Turning Point (New York: Reader's Digest Press, 1974); Lester R. Brown, In the Human Interest (New York: W. W. Norton, 1974); and Lester R. Brown with Eric P. Eckholm, By Bread Alone (New York: Praeger, 1974). The Recovery of Religious Life / 711 Economic Problems: Growing world inflation; market saturation (e.g. airplanes, elec-tronic equipment, automobiles); instability and manipulation of monetary system, lack of alternatives to growth economics; increasing gap between the "have's" and the "have not's." Work Problems: Increasing unemployment and underemployment; saturation of the labor market; decreased productivity; increasing alienation and dissatisfaction with work; depersonalization of work environments. Problems of Urban Areas: Deterioration of urban areas; increasing crime rates; in-creasing cost of essential urban services. Problems of International Order." Hazards of international competition and war; com-petitive economic policies. What makes the "world problematique" different from problems en-countered in previous eras is its complexity and the pervasive interrelationship of its elements. Hence, the "world problematique" is not amenable to normal methods of problem solving. Attempts to address such critical issues in a singular or joint fashion introduce fundamental dilemmas that do not appear resolvable within conventional modes of thought. Among such dilemmas which seem to be plaguing the contemporary politico-economic situation, four might be singled out: the dilemmas of growth, guidance, global justice, and social roles.8 These dilemmas are delineated more fully in Table 6. One may ask if these problems and dilemmas have not been present during most of the Industrial Era. Are not the problems of the 20's and 30's very much the same as those of the 70's and 80's? What makes the above mentioned problems and dilemmas different is that they have not been ameliorated through the use of conventional wisdom and standard problem-solving ap-proaches. In fact, one may argue that application of these approaches has led to many unanticipated and undesirable consequences. Resolution of the problems and dilemmas is dependent upon a thorough-going shift in social perceptions, involving restructuring of beliefs, images, and human aspirations at a fundamental level. B. Crisis in the Church and the Breakdown in Religious Life The Catholic Church in America has been profoundly influenced by con-temporary change. For at least fifteen years the Church has been experiencing a transition of its life. The Second Vatican Council (1962-1964) was a result of the early stages of this transition and a triggering event for its later stages. The Church began to open itself to a world which was undergoing a dramatic secularization. This opening up or aggiornamento had significant impact on all dimensions of Church life. Parish life and parochial education are no longer the only shapers of the values and beliefs of American Catholics. The once-clear norms and social roles ~vithin the Church no longer seem to serve their original purpose. For example, the Vatican's official position on birth 8The schematization presented in Table 6 is based on the work of Bill Harmon, Director of the Center for the Study of Social Policy, Stanford Research Institute. 712 / Review for Religious, I~'olume 34, 1975/5 TABLE 6: SOME DILEMMAS OF CONTEMPORARY SOCIETY Growth The fundamental "new scarcity" of fossil fuels, minerals, fresh water, arable land, habitable surface area, waste-absorbing capacity of the natural environment, fresh air, and food come from approaching the finite limits of the earth. These limits demand a radical slow down or leveling off in material.growth and energy-use curves of the past.' Yet, the present economic and political system is built around a growth hypothesis. The economic and political consequences of limiting growth appear unbearable. Guidance Dilemma Ecological considerations along with awesome power of modern technology to change any and all aspects of the human environment establish a mandate for greater guidance of technological and social innovation. Yet, the political price of such guidance is very high. Such guidance is perceived as con-trary to man's fundamental right to freedom and as an inhibition to economic growth. Global Justice Dilemma Further advances by the industrialized nations make the rich nations richer and the poor nations relatively poorer. The impressive ac-complishments of the industrial economy are largely built on a base of cleverness plus cheap energy, the latter from the world's limited stockpile of fossil fuels. Yet, the costs of not redressing these inequities may be serious political and economic world instabilities as well as widespread famine and inhuman suffering in the poorer nations. Social Roles Dilemma Present economic system is failing to provide Yet, the absence of satisfying and personally an adequate number of satisfying social roles meaningful roles for women, youth, the especially for women and minorities. The aged, and minorities along with worker employment market is saturated; there is a dissatisfaction in general results in in-need to keep youth and the aged out of the creased I~ersonal alienation and erodes labor market, the morale of the nation. control is considered unacceptableto an increasingly large number of Catholics. Difficulties are arising in the functioning of such Church structures as the priesthood and the traditional role of the laity and of such Church institutions as parishes, schoo|s, and hospitals. Their once-unquestioned role within the Church no longer seems to satisfy the needs of an increasingly large number of church members. This crisis and transition within the Church has had a dramatic effect on religious communities of women and men. Religious communities have begun to experience all of the signs of entering into the breakdown and disintegration period described earlier in this article. There has been a sharp decline in membership due to increased withdrawals and a decrease in new recruits. Re- The Recovery of Religious Life / 713 cent literature9 gives a statistical picture of this breakdown in the United States. - A recent National Opinion Research Center study indicated there is a larger relative number of resignees among those already established in church careers than in any other equivalent period of time since the French Revolution. - For the years between 1965 and 1972 66% of the yearly decrease in communities of religious women was due to dispensation or termination of vows. In communities of religious women the average annual net increase over these years was approximately 768 members, the average annual net decrease was 3841, with only one-third of that loss caused by deaths. - The total number of Sisters in 1974 had declined 17% from 1960 and 23% since their peak membership year in 1966. - The total number of religious Brothers in 1974 had decreased 12% since 1960 and 26.5% since their peak membership year in 1966. The purposes of religious communities which were once clear and widely understood have become vague and meaningless to some in the midst of the modern church crisis. The structures of authority and process of communica-tion and decision making within religious communities seem no longer to fit the needs of the individuals within the community or suit the evolving work of the communities. The processes of formation to religious community have sometimes become disorganized and seem to lack purpose. These and other signs indicate that the last fifteen to twenty years have been a time when most religious com-munities have begun to experience breakdown. This cluster of the signs of breakdown in virtually all communities seems to indicate that we are ap-proaching the end of another major era in the history of religious life. C. Restatement of the Bias This review of the transitions in secular culture as well as the current crisis of the Church allows us to use the historical and sociological models of the evolution of religious life and religious communities outlined in the previous sections to answer the question "Where does religious life stand today?" In the introduction of this article, an answer was given in what was called the fun-damental bias of the article, namely, that religious life in America is undergo-ing a profound transition, which will take another twenty or twenty-five years to run its full course. The arguments leading up to this bias can be set forth as follows: 1. The dominant image of religious life has undergone several major tran-sitions as religious life has evolved as a movement within the Church. 2. The occurrence of these major transitions is associated with a number 9Carroll W. Trageson and Pat Holden, "Existence and Analysis of the 'Vocation Crisis' in Religious Careers," (pp. 1-3) in Carroll W. Trageson, John P. Koval, and Willis E. Bartlett (eds.), Report on Study of Church Vo

Issue 31.1 of the Review for Religious, 1972. ; ASSOCIATE EDI'I.'O R Everett A. Diederich, S.J. QUESTIONS ANI) ANS\VERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editor, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to I~EVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Build-ins; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, SJ.; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19106. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ccclcsiastical approval by faculty mcnlbers of tile School of Divinity of St. Louis UniversJly. the edilorhll otfices beii~g located at 612 Ilumboldt Bnilding~ 539 North (.;rand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned b.v the Missouri Province Educational Institute. Published bimonthly and copyright © 1972 by REVIEW I:OR RELIGIOUS. Printed in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. l.ouis, Missouri. Single copies: $1.25. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a year, $11.00 for two years: other counlries: $7.00 a year, $13.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for Ilew or renewal subscriptions and should bc accompanied by check or money order payable to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS in U.S.A. cur-rency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent I~EVIEW I:OR ~ELIGIOUS. Clmnge of address requests should include former address. Renewals and new subscriptions should be sent I)ululh, Minnesota 55802. Manuscripts, editori-al correspondence, and books for review ~bould bc scat 1o REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS: 612 [lumboldt Building: 539 North Grand Boule-yard; SI. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to tile address of tile Questions and Ans\vcrs editor. JANUARY 1972 VOLUME 31 NUMBER 1 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Volume 31l 1972 EDITORIAL OFFICE 539 North Grand Boulevard St. Louis, Missouri 63103 BUSINESS OFFICE P.O. Box 1110 Dululh, Minnesota 55802 EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITOR Everett A. Diederich, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, Published in January, March, May, July, September, No-vember on the fifteenth of the month. Review for Religious is indexed in the Catholic Periodi-cal Index and in Book Review Index. Microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is available from University Micro-films; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. HELEN CONDON, R.S.C.J. The Prayer Question [Helen Condon, R.S.C.J., is a member of the administrative team of the International Union of Superiors General; Piazza di Ponte S. Angelo, 28; 00186 Rome, Italy.] One sign that religious men and women are experiencing renewal and not just making adaptations is the surfacing of a deep current, the desire for prayer. Within the past two or three years there has been a stronger interest in prayer, in new forms and approaches, in books by Lutheran, Anglican, and Orthodox mystics and in Eastern spiritualities. That this interest is more than academic is evident from the efforts being made to experience prayer -the workshops and live-in institutes, directed retreats, the spreading house of prayer movement, the contacts being sought with various masters of contemplation. The Spirit breathing through the Second Vatican Council is surely responsible for this direction of renewal. One strong influence has been the Biblical renaissance of our time, affecting both communal and personal prayer. Among young religious in particular there is often a truly Scripture-centered praying. Another impetus has come from the new freedom given by the chapter decrees of numerous apostolic congregations, doing away with outmoded and excessive devotions and offering wide latitude for individual needs and attractions. What is this contemplative prayer? However we may try to analyze or describe it, in the end it is perhaps least badly expressed as an experience of God. Desire for this experience goes far beyond religious and Christian life, for the same dynamism is active in contemporary society. A'quest for religious experience is a marked characteristic of the counter-culture, however misdirected it may become in esoteric dilettantism and drug addiction. In many places criticism of religious institutions is strongest among those who sense what religion should be. Celebration of the death of God is not an attack on Him but in our misrepresentations, and it can lead to a search for Him. The awareness of God's absence and the widespread crisis of faith and hope may well be social phenomena akin to the mystical dark night. Is it surprising that religious men and women may be similarly affected? Our problems are often the same problems that others have. Realization of this fact can lead to meaningful solidarity with them. It can also be a tremendous apostolic challenge. In this context we come to understand that, although prayer as a human experience has certain constants through the centuries, it must also be real today. Action and contemplation are not antithetical, any more than are body and soul or other so-called dichotomies. All the condemnation of old attitudes and structures that enforced parallel lives of individualistic prayer and work and even the recent criticism of mere horizontalism are now subsiding. What is left is at bedrock level, a hunger and thirst for the living God. The modalities of this experience are many, defying definition and classification. Age-old awarenesses still hold - man's sense of the wholly Other, man's need for a human God - but these are intensified and Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 re-expressed in our heightened consciousness of present realities. Prayer is experience of God's dynamic presence; it is also search for this God. Sometimes it is experience of His absence. Prayer is awareness of His saving action in the world, challenging our integral response. Prayer can be both cause and effect of serving the real needs of men. Yet, without denying the present thrust toward prayer, a crucial question is justified: given the present conditions and circumstances, can many religious men and women engaged in active apostolates really have contemplative prayer? Never have pressures been greater than they are today in Catholic education, the area in which most religious devote themselves. The burden of the future weighs heavily on teachers and administrators: how to assess apostolic need and effective response; how to become more involved in the wider community; how to achieve academic excellence and, of course; how to make ends meet while increasing faculty salaries and benefits, improving instructional programs, and extending scholarships; whether to keep open or to close a school or college. Shortage of personnel presents critical financial problems and sometimes affects morale, especially if teaching sisters, brothers, and priests interpret the questioning of schools and universities and the undertaking of new apostolates by members of their congregations as a lack of support and confidence. Added to all these circumstances is another factor, the grave problems of high school and college students which have also spiraled within a few years and which cry out for help, time, and emotional expenditure on the part of those who teach and guide them. In view of all these pressures - and similar pressures in other kinds of apostolic work - some religious men and women are driven to settle for very little prayer. In addition, the changes within religious life have had an effect - more direct responsibility for one's own "prayer life," greater personal freedom, a wider variety of leisure activities. No longer does a rule or superior "safeguard" times of prayer. Self-discipline is rightly intended to replace other structures, but this kind of self-discipline is not easy, even after years of fidelity to meditation. Other changes have caused malaise and polarization within congregations and local communities. After hectic days in the classroom or office, religious men and women sometimes come home to tensions that are even more difficult to bear. Then there are the heaviest pressures of all, questions that are being asked not just in theological speculation but in personal anguish: ls religious life itself a valid and viable way any more? What meaning has permanent commitment? Is such commitment possible? What really is a relationship with God? Is there such a thing as being "called"? Who is Christ? Where is He? What is the Church? It is not surprising that some find prayer very difficult or meaningless. If it is true that the Holy Spirit is seeking to pray more within us and among us, how can we help one another respond, in spite and because of the problems that burden us? Some of these problems are outside us and some are within. Basic to any effort is a view of religious life itself. It is more and other than professional service, however sympathetic and unselfish. Religious life is a way of realizing the baptismal commitment. It is a faith relationship with the Lord lived out in apostolic community. It is a shared experience of Jesus Christ. A religious congregation is a community of persons committed to, an evangelical life and mission, which is the saving work of Christ among people today. Some such vision reflecting the charism and spirit of the founder is at the head of the book of new decrees or interim documents of ourcongregations. Ultimately this vision is a conviction of faith, with an overriding logic of its own. And this Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 conviction must become the point of reference and basic principle determining our priorities and policies. As a matter of fact, many congregations are acting according to their vision and basic principle in making courageous decisions about reorganizing institutional apostolates and opening up new forms of evangelical service and ministry. Convictions about the individual's'needs and apostolic call are leading to new types of community life and more diversified professional training. The experiments in initial formation and the move toward continuing education and retirement programs result from a realistic application of fundamental aims. Yet are we equally realistic in implementing the prayer-imperative intrinsic to our vision and faith conviction? If in actuality many or even some apostolic religious are so overburdened and pressured that prayer becomes impossible, then priorities demand an honest facing of the problem by everyone concerned. This confronta-tion is the responsibility of a whole congregation or an entire province as well as those in authority, since we now participate in some way in our own government. We have been willing to cut back on institutional commitments because of new apostolic demands, because of the need for further professional preparation, the shortage of personnel and finances. Are we willing to make similar decisions to help one another grow in the faith relationship with God, live the apostolic religious life more humanly and freely? This is not a pious ideal but a pragmatic conclusion. Apostolate is bigger than work, as the person is more than a function. People have to be given time and psychic space to breathe and be. Practically speaking, we need to provide more help for overworked administrators, to lighten class loads of teachers whose day also includes hours of informal counseling or evening activities in the parish. And speaking just as practically, we must begin to give time-off to individuals - spiritual sabbaticals - not just time to acquire a degree in theology, but time and help to seek the living God. Summer renewals of a month or so are helpful. Yet what seems to be needed is a prolonged period, a semester or more, with courses in Scripture and theology and other disciplines integrated into a community experience, and the opportunity for real spiritual direction. The ARC program held in Rome during 1970-71 offered such an experience and might serve as one model for similar ventures elsewhere.1 This kind of spiritual sabbatical might well give the distancing that some seem able to find only in a leave of absence. For most others it would be a time of growth and re-integration after years of self-expenditure. Congregations - which is to say, we - owe their members continuing spiritual help and most especially help in praying - not just talks on prayer, though these can be valuable, but personal guidance and circumstances that favor growth. Good directors are hard to come by; this field of ministry is crying out for sisters and brothers as well as priests. We need prayerful men and women with learning, experience, and sensitivity to the contemporary, who can enlighten and encourage others, enabling them to discern God's leading and to go forward in faith. Besides the congregation, local communities are "responsible" for the quality of 1 ARC - Apostolate of Religious Community - was a program first offered for religious women in 1970-1971 in Rome. Courses in Scripture and theology were taught in English by such persons as Barnabas Ahem, Luis Alonso Sch6kel, Robert L. Faricy, Paul Kennedy, Edward Malatesta, Juan Mateos, Paul Molinari, David M. Stanley, and James Walsh. The 28 participants of varying ages belonged to 17 congregations. They developed their own community life, integrating course content, and communal prayer.'The ARC program,is being repeated during 1971-1972. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 prayer of their members. It is in the living situation that a person's overwork and exhaustion will become most evident. If a community is really a home, then already other pressures lessen and we get strength from one another. If it is not home, a person may tend to withdraw, to center his life outside, to work compulsively. Even if an individual will not or cannot work out of his overextension, his friends can help, like the four men in the gospel~ by laying him at Christ's feet in their own prayer. Since we have chosen to live out our commitment in community, community becomes the context of our discovery of Christ, as it was for His Apostles. As they supported Thomas, we can sustain the faith of one another. Our faith is in need of such help. Perhaps more of us than we could ever guess are going through the same kind of thing - asking ourselves who Christ is and where He is, what our own lives mean and how we can live them today. Another's questioning and searching can help us immeasurably more than facile theoretic solutions. Some are doubting if there is such a thing as a personal call by God. Ultimately the only answer is people's experience. In the long story of salvation history some individuals have known a personal call, and in the more tangible present of our own communities others may be able to share their own moment of meeting with the Lord. Perhaps we can dare to walk in the strength of another's vision, or he in ours, or the hidden Christ may join the two of us as we speak of no longer finding Him. The prayer of the Christian community has special efficacy because the Lord has promised His presence there. Whatever form communal prayer may take, it must make room for this presence, with all its implications of conversion and forgiveness. Through the centuries religious men and women have edified each other by their ardor and fidelity. Today, when we are particularly vulnerable to one another, the quality of community life has a tremendous impact. Perhaps more than anything else, the best help to personal prayer is to be with praying people. What about the individual religious who finds prayer impossible or meaningless? When we cannot pray, when we are bogged down, utterly weary, drained, dried up, when we may already also feel guilty, advice is the last thing we want from Job's comforters, perhaps even from our closest friends. But maybe we can quietly recognize that much of our impotence may come from exterior circumstances and our own human condition. The response is what we are capable of at any given moment. Maybe the only response possible is a desperate cry to God for help. And maybe there will be no answer, only silence. If we can remember words about knocking over and over again, we can try to keep on asking, begging especially for faith: Save me, God! The water is already up to my neck! I am sinking in the deepest swamp, there is no foothold; I have stepped into deep water, and the waves are rushing over me, Worn out with calling, my throat is hoarse, my eyes are strained, looking for my God (Ps 69:1-3). God's power that raised Christ from the dead is working in us (Ep 1:19-20). In prayer the initiatives are His: "Is anything too wonderful for Yahweh?" (Gn 18:14). The response we are capable of may mean a courageous honesty, admitting our own carelessness or compromising or sinfulness. It may mean a willingness to take small steps, perhaps just a recognition of the problem of personal prayer, perhaps letting ourselves be helped. At some point priorities can be sorted out. If the problem is overinvolvement, something has ~to give. Nobody but God can be all things to all men. In its acute form this condition is like a heart attack, when a Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 doctor would say to us: "If you want to live, you've got to let up." Now our very life is just as truly at stake. Do we want to live, and live more abundantly? For all of us, moving into this more abundant life means discovering a rhythm and realizing an integration of prayer into our very existence. The Spirit's action leads to life, not frustration. His invitation to apostolic religious must be possible of acceptance. Given the complexities of today, obstacles around us and within us are immense, but with personal and communal effort they must be surmountable. The new decrees of congregations which altered prayer obligations were intended to open do6rs and windows, not create a vacuum. Contemplative prayer does not need to be defended. Time taken for it does not require apologies to anyone. For the problem of prayer will always be partly a question of time because of the human condition. The modes of prayer are multiple and unique: God can and does give Himself anywhere at any moment. To recognize and assimilate this encounter takes reflection, time, some solitude. Prayer is a human experience, caused and conditioned by and inseparable from human living; prayer is also a gift of the immanent and transcendent God. Apostolic religious are praying people who happen to be teachers or adminis-trators or other professionals, not workers who happen to pray. If we mean what we have so often said - that is what we are rather than what we do that matters - then nowhere is this more true than in our being in Christ. The integration of our lives comes about through the quality of our prayer. The deepening desire for prayer is surely a sign and fruit of renewal. And God's gifts are given not just for ourselves but for others, for the building up of Christ's Body. Religious men and women who are praying people can help others to pray, those who are searching for God without knowing Him, those who have lost Him, those who are revolting against the sterile materialism of technocracy. The religious person is also meant to be a prophet, to condemn injustice and hatred and violence by his words and his life, to proclaim the kingdom of justice and love and peace. One who speaks God's message to mefi must all along be a listener: The Lord Yahweh has given ,me a disciple's tongue. So that 1 may know how to reply to the wearied he provides me with speech. Each morning he wakes me to hear, to listen like a disciple. The Lord Yahweh has opened my ear (Is 50:4-5). M. BASIL PENNINGTON, 0.C.S.0. Contemplative Community lM. Basil Pennington, O.C.S;O., is a Cistercian monk of St. Joseph's Abbey; Spencer, Massachusetts O1562.] The Third Cistercian Symposium (August 30 - September 6, 1971) held at the Abbey of Notre Dame du Lac (near Montreal, Canada) brought together some fifty participants from various nations and continents, including such notables as Jean Leclercq, O.S.B., Armand Veilleux, O.C.S.O., Chrysogonus Waddell, O.C,S.O., Valentine Walgrave, O.P., Ghislain Lafont, O.S.B., and many others. The theme of this Third Symposium was "Contemplative Community." Like the previous Cistercian Symposiums, a team of experts, in this case fifteen, were asked to prepare papers which were circulated in advance. Like the Second Symposium this one also was interdisciplinary and included papers from the fields of Sacred Scripture, patristics, monastic spirituality and history, liturgy, theology, sociology, anthropology, and psychology. A paper reflecting the Anglican perspective was also presented. Unlike previous Symposiums the papers were not read at the meeting. All had been asked to study them carefully prior to the meeting. Or/the first day each expert made a very brief presentation and time was allotted for questions. Such a plan was proposed to allow the greatest amount of time possible for discussion in the hopes that the group might in this way penetrate more deeply hato the question. In practice it proved quite successful. The twelve papers presented were: Scripture Monastic Community and the Summary Statements in Acts Francis Martin Monastic Tradition and History The De Instituto Christiano: Reflections on Contemplative Community Sr. Michael Connor, O.C.S.O. St. Bernard of Clairvaux and the Contemplative Community Jean Leclercq, O.S.B. Seeking God in Community according to St. Aelred Charles Dumont, O.C.S.O. Together unto God: Contemplative Community in the Sermons of Guerric of Igny M. Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O. A Challenge for Today: The Problem of the Contemplative Community at the End of the Eighteenth Century Cyprian Davis, O.S.B. Contemplation and Community: An Anglican Perspective Sr. Benedicta Ward, S.L.G. Liturgy Liturgy and Contemplative Community: Random Reflections and Notes for Discussion Chrysogonus Waddell, O.C.S.O. Theology The Theology of Contemplative Community Tarcisius Conner, O.C.S.O. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 Sociology The Theology of Social Dynamics with an Application to Contemplative Life Valentine Walgrave, O.P. Anthropology Contemplative Community David F. K. Steindl-Rast, O.SoB. Psychology Some Psychological Dimensions of the Contemplative Community D. H. Salman, O.P. Experts present who did not present papers were: Armand Veilleux, O.C.S.O., abbot of Mistassini and editor ofLiturgie, Ghislain Lafont, O.S.B., of Pierre-qui-vire andJohn Eudes Bamberger, O.C.S.O., Secretary General of the Cistercian Order, psychiatrist and patristic scholar. In addition to the team of experts there was a good cross section 'among the participants of those concerned with the contemplative community. There were abbots and abbesses, novice masters and novice mistresses, monks, nuns and novices; there were Cistercians, Benedictines, and Dominicans; there were those from experimental communities, secular institutes, and the lay state. With such a large group there was always the danger that the Symposium might evolve into a colloquium. In actual fact 6ne evening session was devoted to sharing the experiences of the various communities represented. However, for the most part, the meeting remained a very serious study, yet one constantly challenged by practical pastoral concern. On the first day after the brief presentations and a question period, the meeting divided into five small groups, three English-speaking and two French. These groups, in the light of the presentations, formulated questions which represented areas of concern: the essential nature of the Christian contemplative community, sharing at the level of contemplative experience, integration of the vertical and horizontal dimensions. Fidelity to the evolving community and entrance into the contemplative community were also to be discui;sed. On the second day discussion was largely restricted to the panel of experts. The Biblical type of the Christian community, especially in the light of the summary statements in Acts (2:42-7, 4:32-5, 5:11-6) was explored. And then the wider human phenomenon was considered. It was felt that the specifically Christian dimension which transfinalized and elevated the human could best be understood if it was seen precisely in this light. Thus the concluding statement first considered the human phenomenon and then the Christian: CHRISTIAN CONTEMPLATIVE COMMUNITY In order to live human life to the full, man must transcend his empirical self and so realize his True Self. This implies an openness to the Transcendent. Attention to his openness for the Transcendent makes man aware of his contemplative dimension. Contemplative life as a form of life expresses and fosters in every detail of daily living mindfulness of the Transcendent. Contemplative community is a gathering of brethren who support one another in contemplative life through a giving and receiving that is at once spontaneous and responsible. For the Christian to live the human life to the full means a dying to selfishness to enter into the life of the risen Christ. This is the conversion that leads to transformation into the New Man and to the realization of the Self as Cosmic Christ. This transfiguration is realized as the Spirit opens us to the revelation of the Father in His Word. Loving awareness./of this revelation in all its dimensions is contemplative prayer. Since Christian contemplative life focuses on the Word, it is a form of life which expresses and fosters in every detail of daily living a listening to God and a living by the Word. Some Christians called to the contemplative life gather in love and experience God by sharing solitude in common life, supporting one another as brothers. In doing so, they mediate to each other the revelation of God and they manifest the mystery of the Church as open to God in prayer. 10 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 The full significance of this statement can this schema: CONTEMPLATIVE HUMAN (1) FULLNESS In order to live human life to the full, man must transcend his empirical self and so realize his True Self. be better perceived if it is considered in COMMUNITY CHRISTIAN OF LIFE For the Christian, to live the human life to the full means a dying to selfishness to enter into the life of the risen Christ. This is the conversion that leads to transformation into the New Man and to the realization of the Self as Cosmic Christ. This implies cendent. (2) OPENNESS TO THE TRANSCENDENT an openness to the Trans- This transfiguration is realized as the Spirit opens us to the revelation of the Father in His Word. (3) CONTEMPLATIVE DIMENSION Attention to his openness for the Trans- Loving awareness to this revelation in all its cendent makes man aware of his contempla- dimensions is contemplative prayer. tire dimension. (4) CONTEMPLATIVE LIFE Contemplative life as a form of life ex- Since Christian contemplative life focuses presses and fosters in every detail of daily on the Word (Logos), it is a form of life living mindfulness of the Transcendent. which expresses and fosters in every detail of daily living a listening to God and a living by the Word. (5) CONTEMPLATIVE COMMUNITY Contemplative community is a gathering of brethren who support one another in con-templative life through a giving and receiv-ing that is at once spontaneous and respon-sible. Some Christians called to the contemplative life gather in love and experience God by sharing solitude in common life, supporting one another as brothers. In doing so, they mediate to each other the revelation of God and they manifest the mystery of the Church as open to God in prayer. This extremely rich statement summarizes a great deal of discussion and shared insight, the fruit of the labor of the experts working in panels, small group discussions, general sessions, and long night sessibns of the conclusion committee with various experts. Pages and even volumes could be written on it. The committee did offer a brief explanation or development of some of its aspects but these themselves open the way to further areas of exploration and reflection: Fullness of Life The empirical self is the self experienced as acting, reasoning, managing, controlling; not only the self as egotistical or selfish. To mistake this functional self for one's True Self is an illusion. To h~eak out of this illusion means to realize life in fullness. (We are using "tea|ize" throughout in its double sense of becoming aware and making real.) The realization of this universal Self constitutes the ultimate achievement in various spiritual traditions. In Christian tradition this breakthrough into fullness of life is our entering into the Paschal Mystery. What it means to enter into the Cosmic Christ becomes clear when we take seriously St. Paul's "I live now no longer I but Christ lives in me," and keep in mind that this is the Christ in whom, through whom, for whom all things have been created - the Cosmic Christ of Col 1 : 12-20, "Christ is the visible likeness of the invisible God. He is the firstborn Son superior to every creature, for by him God created everything . and through the Son God decided to bring the whole universe back to himself." Tradition expresses this mystery in the language of image and likeness with reference to Genesis 1:36. Community plays an essential role throughout the process in which the image is restored to its likeness (cf. Eph 1:23). Openness to the Transcendent It should be noted that we are dealing with a process, a path. Traditionally this path has been Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 11 seen as leading from knowledge of self which is humility, through knowledge of others which is compassion, to knowledge of God which is contemplation. This process cuhninates in that purity of heart which is man's transparehcy.to the deifying light, of which St. Benedict speaks, and this is true transfiguration. Contemplative Dimension The contemplative attitude is a matter of love, a matter of an intense continuous desire for God. When we speak about contemplative prayer we mean prayerfulness, not only prayers. The man of prayers strives to "pray without ceasing." In arriving at this, the "intention," that dynamic directiveness toward God explicated in a loving attitude of listening, draws the whole heart after it as the needle draws the thread. We refer to all the dimensions of re~,elation because revelation of the Triune God is in itself as it were three-dimensional. God reveals hiinself to us through his Son, the Word, through whom he created and saved everything (Heb 1:3). Thus God speaks to us through all things. We may call this the theophanic dimension of revelation. But it is only in the Spirit that we can understand God's Word, because "the things of God no one knows but the Spirit of God. Now we have received., the Spirit of God that we may know the things that have been given by God" (1 Cor 2:10-12). We may call this the pneumatic dimension. Even this revelation leaves intact the mystery of God the Father who "dwells in light inaccessible, whom no man sees or can see" (1 Tim 6:16). We may call this the apophatic dimension. Contemplative Life When we say that Christian contemplative life "focuses on the Word" we mean that it is through the Word that we come to know the Father in the Spirit. This is why Christian contemplative practice strives for an ever greater sensitivity to the Word (Ausculta) and, through the Word, to God. The clause "expresses and fosters in everyday living," refers to asceticism as practiced in monastic communities. In Cistercian monasteries, for instance, this is done by a deep commitment to the Rule of St. Benedict as interpreted by the living Cistercian tradition. Contemplative Community All Christian life includes an element of contemplation, and all Christian life implies communion. Some Christians, however, live a community life specifically dedicated to contemplative prayer. Their goal is to realize kohtonia in its full Biblical sense: personal communion with the living God and sharing in communion with brothers (cf. 1 Jn 1:3). This is contemplative community, one way of realizing concretely the mystery of the Church. We are poor men, sinners, needing help, not only God's but one another's. For this reason also we need to share a common commitment within a common life. Deep inner sharing of purpose has brought us to a community where, by mutual love and concern, respect and correction, we search, we grow, we experience God. ("Experience" here is not limited to its merely psychological sense but means a deep personal encounter with God in faith.) We support one another in this experience by praising God together, reflecting and learning, living and suffering together to be reborn together. And yet in this life together each brother is the guardian of the other's solitude, protecting it both against infringement and against deteriora-tion into loneliness. Some people need more solitude and others need more togetherness. This implies a true pluralism among communities and in community. The practical question which had inaugurated the Third Symposium had been formulated thus: To see more clearly the problems inherent in the life-situation when men freely gather together and commit themselves to live together in a Christian community for the precise purpose of obtaining for each one the maximal freedom to respond to God in prayer and contemplation (and) of fostering each one's growth in this (and) to seek out, as best we can, genui~tely practical responses to these problems. 12 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 In more concrete terms: I am a Cistercian. 1 live in community. 1 am trying to be a man of prayer. I want to be fully responsive to my community, each man in it and the community as a whole. At the same time 1 want to live an intense prayer life and attain to the deepest possible union with God and experience of Him. In view of this twofold concern what are the difficulties and tensions i am running into and how practically can we best resolve them? Its answer is found in two related insights: an understanding of what might be called incarnational;contemplative prayer, and of unity in pluralism. As the statement above brings out, contemplative prayer, the contemplative attitude, lies in openness to God, responsiveness to God, God who has revealed Himself to us. We know that this God, our God - indeed the only God - is always beyond all His revelations and manifestations; yet He is known and contacted in and through them. His revelation of Himself is to be found not only in the Sacred Books or in the depths of one's own soul, but in all creation, His work which He ever keeps in being, sharing His being, and above all, in the creature He made to His own image and likeness: man. If one approaches creation and especially his fellow man with the Christian contemplative attitude, then this is contemplative prayer. He contacts God and responds to Him as He is revealing Himself. But a man can not do this unless he does have in his life, besides times of communion with creation and with his brethren, periods of silence and solitude wherein he can become aware of his own contemplative dimension and learn to live and respond at this level. Thus it is necessary for the contemplative community to structure itself to some extent at least so that each member can be assured of the time and leisure (which is something more than just time) he needs for this. The other practices of the traditional Christian ascesis are also presupposed. Even when the legitimacy of the incarnational approach to contemplative living is fully established, it remains that this is not the primary attraction or call of all contemplatives. And thus it does not provide the only or wholly adequate answer to our question. There must be within the contemplative community a healthy pluralism which responds to the members' diverse ways of perceiving God and consequently their diverse ways of seeking Him. The official report of the Symposium summed up the conclusions of the Symposium on this point in this way: Unity and Pluralism The contemplative community finds its unity in its common basic orientation toward listening to God and living by the Word. It experiences this unity insofar as the members are able to communicate to one another that they do share this common orientation. Some of the ways in which this is done are through common prayer, praise and Eucharist, through sharing a common spirituality, through accepting the common leadership of an abbot, through example, through participation in common exercises, mutual service and community support, through the charity of fraternal correction, through a common sharing of the responsibility to work toward unity, and through interpersonal encounter in which the brethren share deeply what God is accomplishing in their lives. Their very oneness in Christ makes them essentially sharers. There can be true pluralism only insofar as there is true unity in this basic orientation because pluralism is the expression and realization of the same ideals or orientation in different ways. Psychologically a community can peacefully accept pluralism and not experience it as threatening to its unity if there is among the brethren sufficient knowledge of each other's sharing in the common goal to allow each to have confidence that his brothers are with him in this. Within the ambiance of this common basic orientation each one, according to his own proper attraction, will seek God in different ways placing more emphasis on one approach or another. Some will more readily seek and find him in the depths of their own being, others in their brothers, in creation, in all the details of everyday life. The former will mediate God to their brothers more by example or "image," the others more by "word," interpersonal relations and shared activities. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 13 Within a truly united community there can be a very extensive spectrum of diversity, a very rich pluralism. Such pluralism manifests the great vitality of a united community. Guidelines as norms which set certain limits to pluralism can help a community to be faithful to its basic orientation and invite it to a deeper awareness of it. But ideally such guidelines should merely reflect values which are personally possessed and cherished by all the members of the community. Finally the report of the meeting added a few brief considerations on the present situation vis-,~-vis the contemplative community: Dynamism of the Present Situation Contemplative life today is an adventure, a risk demanding acceptance in faith of difficult situations, a realistic living of the Mystery of Christ, all the while open to the Spirit so that he may move us. In our present situation it is necessary not only to be aware of our past but also of a future that is unfolding with ever greater rapidity. To be a member of a contemplative community is to accept and embrace with joy the death and rebirth into new life that continually mark a vital community life. Love has to express itself in patience, trust and hope in the face of insecurity in the situations that we encounter today. In periods of transition we experience a certain polarization. In the midst of this we can find u~nity in working together toward a fuller unity to be achieved in the future. There is a new form of asceticism in accepting change in a spirit of detachment and in not forcing change on others. Some unusual situations can demand decisions. In regard to fidelity to one's community, only when it becomes clear that the community's evolving orientation blocks the realization of an essential dimension of one's response to God should a person consider separating himself. Honest recognition of community problems is a first step toward building the future. In formulating solutions the community, head and members, listen to one another, always keeping their basic values and orientations in view. We have to love one another. We need to be healed. There is much pain in the perfecting of a contemplative community but this very pain can be the means of bringing forth life and growth. We live in a new age and must find new solutions for problems, some old and some never before encountered. All who took part in the Symposium felt it was a very enriching experience. A report can hardly do justice to the immense wealth brought to the discussions by the large and most capable panel of experts. But perhaps far more important was the strengthening witness shared by all there, a witness given not only by the participants, one to another, but that of the wonderful contemplative community which hosted the meeting. The large and flourishing community of Notre Dame du Lac with its most generous and open hospitality, its vital celebration of the daily liturgy, and its very evident commitment to contemplative living provided the most ideal context for a symposium on contemplative community. The papers and conclusions of the Third Cistercian Symposium will be published shortly by Cistercian Publications in Volume Twenty-one of the "Cistercian Studies Series": Contemplative Community: A n Interdisciplinary Symposium. GEORGE A. ASCHENBRENNER, S.J. Consciousness Examen [George A. Aschenbrenner, S.J.,is the director of novices in the Maryland Province of the Society of Jesus; Novitiate of St. Isaac Jogues; Wernersville, Pennsylvania 19565.] Examen is usually the first practice to disappear from the daily life of the religious. This occurs for many reasons; but all the reasons amount to the admission (rarely explicit) that it is not of immediate practical value in a busy day. My point in this article is that all these reasons and their false conclusion spring from a basic misunderstanding of the examen as practiced in religious life. Examen must be seen in relationship to discernment of spirits. It is a daily intensive exercise of discernment in a person's life. Examen of Consciousness For many youth today life is spontaneity if anything. If spontaneity is crushed or aborted, then life itself is stillborn. In this view examen is living life once removed from the spontaneity of life. It is a reflective, dehydrated approach which dries all the spontaneity out of life. These people today disagree with Socrates' claim that the unexamined life is not worth living. For these people the Spirit is in the spontaneous and so anything that militates against spontaneity is un-Spirit-ual. This view overlooks the fact that welling up in the consciousness and experience of each of us are two spontaneities, one good and for God, another evil and not for God. These two types of spontaneous urges and movements happen to all of us. So often the quick-witted, loose-tongued person who can be so entertaining and the center of attention and who is always characterized as being so spontaneous is not certainly being moved by and giving expression to the good spontaneity. For one eager to love God with his or her whole being, the challenge is not simply to let the spontaneous happen but rather to be able to sift'out these various spontaneous urges and give full existential ratification to those spontaneous feelings that are from and for God. We do this by allowing the truly Spirited-spontaneity to happen in our daily lives. But we must learn the feel of this true Spirited-spontaneity. Examen has a very central role in this learning. When examen is related to discernment, it becomes examen of consciousness rather than of conscience. Examen of conscience has narrow moralistic overtones. Though we were always told that examen of conscience in religious life was not the same as a preparation for confession, it was actually explained and treated as though it were much the same. The prime concern was with what good or bad actions we had done each day. In discernment the prime concern is not with the morality of good or bad actions; rather the concern is how the Lord is affecting and moving us (often quite spontaneously!) deep in our own affective consciousness. What is happening in our consciousness is prior to and more important than our actions which can be delineated as ju~'idically good or evil. How we are experiencing the "drawing" of the Father (Jn 6:44) in our own existential consciousness and how our sinful nature is quietly tempting us and luring us away from our Father in Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 15 subtle dispositions of our consciousness - this is what the daily examen is concerned with prior to a concern for our response in our actions. So it is examen of consciousness that we are concerned with here, so that we can cooperate with and let happen that beautiful, spontaneity in Our hearts which is the touch of our Father and the urging of the Spirit. Examen and Religious Identity The examen we are talking about here is not a Ben Franklin-like striving for self-perfection. We are talking about an experience in faith of growing sensitivity to the unique, intimately special ways that the Lord's Spirit has of approaching and calling us. Obviously it takes time for this growth. But in this sense examen is a daily renewal and growth in our religious identity - this unique flesh-spirit person being loved by God and called by Him deep in his personal affective world. It is not possible for me to make an examen without confronting my own identity in Christ before the Father - my own religious identity as poor, celibate, and obedient in imitation of Christ as experienced in the charism of my religious vocation. And yet so often our daily examen becomes so general and vague and unspecific that our religious identity (Jesuit, Dominican, Franciscan, and so forth) does not seem to make any difference. Examen assumes real value when it becomes a daily experience of confrontation and renewal of our unique religious identity and how the Lord is subtly inviting us to deepen and develop this identity. We should make examen each time with as precise a grasp as we have now on our religious identity. We do not make it just as any Christian but as this specific Christian person with a unique vocation and grace in faith. Examen and Prayer The examen is a time of prayer. The dangers of an empty self-reflection or an unhealthy self-centered introspection are very real. On the other hand, a lack of effort at examen and the approach of living according to what comes naturally keeps us quite superficial and insensitive to the subtle and profound ways of the Lord deep in our hearts. The prayerful quality and effectiveness of the examen itself depends upon its relationship to the continuing contemplative prayer of the person. Without this relationship examen slips to the level of self-reflection for self-perfection, if it perdures at all. In daily contemplative prayer the Father reveals to us at His own pace the order of the mystery of all reality in Christ - as Paul says to the Colossians: ". those to whom God has planned to give a vision of the full wonder and splendor of his secret plan for the nations" (Col 1:27). The contemplator experiences in many subtle, chiefly non-verbal, ways this revelation of the Father in Christ. The presence of the Spirit of the risen Jesus in the heart of the believer makes it possible to sense and "hear" this invitation (challenge!) to order ourselves to this revelation. Contempla-tion is empty without this "ordering" response. This kind of reverent, docile (the "obedience of faith" Paul speaks of in Rom 16:26), and non-moralistic ordering is the work of the daily examen - to sense and recognize those interior invitations of the Lord that guide and deepen this ordering from day to day and not to cooperate with those subtle insinuations opposed to that ordering. Without that contemplative contact with the Father's revelation of reality in Christ, both in formal prayer and informal prayerfulness, the daily practice of examen becomes empty; it shrivels up and dies. Without this "listening" to the Father's revelation of His ways which are so different from our own (Is 55:8-9), examen again becomes that shaping up of ourselves which is 16 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 human and natural self-perfection or, even worse, it can become that selfish ordering of ourselves to our own ways. Examen without regular contemplation is futile. A failure at regular contempla-tion emaciates the beautifully rich experience of response-ible ordering which the contemplative is continually invited to by the Lord. It is true, on the other hand, that contemplation without regular examen becomes compartmentalized and superficial and stunted in a person's life. The time of formal prayer can become a very sacrosanct period in a person's day but so isolated from the rest of his life that he is not prayerful (finding God in all things) at that level where he really lives. The examen gives our daily contemplative experience of God real bite into all our daily living; it is an important means to finding God in everything and not just in the time of formal prayer, as we will explain at the end of this article. ADiscerning Vision of Heart When we first learned about the examen in religious life, it was a specific exercise of prayer for about a quarter of an hour. And at first it seemed quite stylized and almost artificial. This problem was not in the examen-prayer but in ourselves; we were beginners and had not yet worked out that integration in ourselves of a process of personal discernment to be expressed in daily examens. For the beginner, before he has achieved much of a personalized integration, an exercise or process can be very valuable and yet seem formal and stylized. This should not put us off. It will be the inevitable experience in religious life for the novice and for the "oldtimer" who is beginning again at examen. But examen will fundamentally be misunderstood if the goal of this exercise is not grasped. The specific exercise of examen is ultimately aimed at developing a heart with a discerning vision to be active not only for one or two quarter-hour periods in a day but continually. This is a gift from the Lord -- a most important one as Solomon realized (1 Kings 3:9-12). So we must constantly pray for this gift, but we must also be receptive to its development within our hearts. A daily practice of examen is essential to this development. Hence the five steps of the exercise of examen as presented in the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola (# 43) are to be seen, and gradually experienced in faith, as dimensions of the Christian consciousness, formed by God and His work in the heart as it confronts and grows within this world and all of reality. If we allow the Father gradually to transform our mind and heart into that of His Son, to become truly Christian, through our living experience in this world, then the examen, with its separate elements now seen as integrated dimensions of our own consciousness looking out on the world, is much more organic to our outlook and will seem much less contrived. So there is no ideal time allocation for the five elements of the examen each time but rather a daily organic expression of the spiritual mood of the heart. At one time we are drawn to one element longer than the others and at another time to another element over the others. The mature Ignatius near the end of his life was always examining every movement and inclination of his heart which means he was discerning the congruence of everything with his true Christ-centered self. This was the overflow of those regular intensive prayer-exercises of examen every day. The novice or "oldtimer" must be aware both of the point of the one or two quarter-hour exercises of examen each day, namely, a continually discerning heart, and of the necessary gradual adaptation of his practice of examen to his stage of development and the situation in the world in which he finds himself. And yet we are all aware Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 17 of the subtle rationalization of giving up formal examen each day because we have "arrived at" that continually discerning heart. This kind of rationalization will prevent further growth in faith sensitivity to the Spirit and His ways in our daily lives. Let us now take a look at the format of the examen as presented by St. Ignatius in the Spiritual Exercises, #43 but in light of these previous comments on examen as discerning consciousness within the world. Prayer for Enlightenment In the Exercises Ignatius has an act of thanksgiving as the first part of the examen. The first two parts could be interchanged without too much difference. In fact, I would suggest the prayer for enlightenment as a fitting introduction to the examen. The examen is not simply a matter of a person's natural power of memory and analysis going back over a part of the day. It is a matter of Spirit-guided insight into my life and courageously responsive sensitivity to God's call in my heart. What we are seeking here is that gradually growing appreciative insight into the mystery which I am. Without the Father's revealing grace this kind of insight is not possible. The Christian must be careful not to get locked into the world of his own human natural powers. Our technological world can pose as a special danger in this regard. Founded on a deep appreciation of the humanly interpersonal, the Christian in faith transcends the boundaries of the here-and-now with its limited natural causality and discovers a Father who loves and works in and through and beyond all., For this reason we begin the examen with an explicit petition for that enlightenment which will occur in and through our own powers but which our own natural powers could never be capable of all by themselves. That the Spirit may help me to see myself a bit more as He sees me Himself! Reflective Thanksgiving The stance of a Christian in the midst of the world is that of a poor person, possessing nothing, not even himself, and yet being gifted at every instant in and through everything. When we become too affluently involved with ourselves and deny our inherent poverty, then we lose the gifts and either begin to make demands for what we think we deserve (often leading to angry frustration) or we blandly take for granted all that comes our way. Only the truly poor person can appreciate the slightest gift and feel genuine gratitude. The more deeply we live in faith the poorer we are and the more gifted; life itself becomes humble, joyful thanksgiving. This should gradually become an element of our abiding consciousness. After the introductory prayer for enlightenment our hearts should rest in genuine faith-filled gratitude to our Father for His gifts in this most recent part of the day. Perhaps in the spontaneity of the happening we were not aware of the gift and now in this exercise of reflective prayer we see the events in a very different perspective. Our sudden gratitude - now the act of a humble selfless pauper - helps make us ready to discover the gift more clearly in a future sudden spontaneity. Our gratitude should center on the concrete, uniquely personal gifts that each of us was blessed with, whether large and obviously important or tiny and apparently insignificant. There is much in our lives that we take for granted; gradually He will lead us to a deep realization that all isgift. It is right to give Him praise and thanks! Practical Survey of Actions In this third element of the examen ordinarily we rush to review, in some specific 18 Review for Religious, Volume .31, 1972/1 detail, our actions of that part of the day just finished so we can catalogue them as good or bad. Just what we shouldn't do! Our prime concern here in faith is what has been happening to and in us since the last exa.men. The operative questions are: what has been happening in us, how has the Lord been working in us, what has He been asking us. And only secondarily are our own actions to be considered. This part of the examen presumes that we have become sensitive to our interior feelings, moods, and slightest urgings and that we are not frightened by them but have learned to take them very seriously. It is here in~ the depths of our affectivity, so spontaneous, strong, and shadowy at times, that God moves us and deals with us most intimately. These interior moods, feelings, urges, and movements are the "spirits" that must be sifted out, discerned, so we can recognize the Lord's call to us at this intimate core of our being. As we have; said above, the examen is a chief means to this discerning of our interior consciousness. This presumes a real faith approach to life - that life is first listening, then acting in response: The fundamental attitude of the believer is of one who listens. It is to the Lord's utterances that he gives ear. In as many different ways and on as many varied levels as the listener can d"iosbceedrnie tnhcee wofo rfdai tahn.d" .w. iIltl oisf tthhee Laottridtu mdaen oiffe srteecde tpot ihvinit~y, ,h pe amsussitv rietsypoIn adn wdi tpho avlel rthtye oPfa uolninee who is always in need, radically dependent, conscious of his creaturehood. Hence the great need for interior quiet, peace, and a passionate receptivity that attunes us to listening to God's word at every instant and in every situation and then responding in our own activity. Again in a world that is founded more on activity (becoming activism), productivity, and efficiency (whereas efficacity is a norm for the kingdom of God!) this faith view is implicitly, if not explicitly, challenged at every turn in the road. And so our first concern here is with these subtle.intimate, affective ways in which the Lord has been dealing with us during these past few hours. Perhaps we did not recognize Him calling in that past moment, but now our vision is clear and direct. Secondarily our concern is with our actions insofar as they were responses to His calling. So often our activity becomes primary to hs and all sense of response in our activity is lost. We become self-moved and mbtivated rather than moved and motivated by the Spirit (Rom 8:14). This is a subtle lack of faith and failure to live as a son or daughter of our Father. In the light of faith it is the quality (of responsive-ness) of the activity, more than the activity itself, which makes the difference for the kingdom of God. , In this general review there is no strain to reproduce every second since the last examen; rather our concern is with specific details and incidents as they reveal patterns and bring some clarity and insight. This brings us to a consideration of what Ignatius calls the particular examen. This element of the examen, perhaps more than any other, has been misunder-stood. It has often become an effort to divide and conquer by moving down the list of vices or up the list of virtues in a mechanically planned approach to self-perfection. A certain amount of time was spent on each vice or virtue one by one, and then we moved on to the next one on the list. Rather than a practical programmed approach to perfection, the parti'cular examen is meant to be a reverently honest, personal meeting with the Lordfin our own hearts. I David Asselin, S.J., "Christian Maturity and Spiritual Discernment," Review for Religious, v. 27 (1968), p. 594. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 19 When we become sensitive and serious enough about loving God, we begin to realize some changes must be made. We are deficient in so many areas and so many defects must be done away with. But the Lord does not want all of them to be handled at once. Usually there is one area of our hearts where He is especially calling for conversion which is always the beginning of new life. He is interiorly nudging us in one area and reminding us that if we are really serious about Him this one aspect of ourselves must be changed. This is often precisely the one area we want to forget and (maybe!) work on later. We do not want to let His word condemn us in this one area and so we try to forget it and distract ourselves by working on some other safer area which does require conversion but not with the same urgent sting of consciousness that is true of the former area. It is in this first area of our hearts, if we will be honest and open with the Lord, where we are very personally experiencing the Lord in the burning fire of His Word as He confronts us here and now. So often we fail to recognize this guilt for what it really is or we try to blunt it by working hard on something else that we may want to correct whereas the Lord wants something else here and now. For beginners it takes time to become interiorly sensitive to God before they gradually come to recognize the Lord's cidl to conversion (maybe involving a very painful struggle!) in some area of their lives. It is better for beginners to take this time to learn what the Lord wants their particular examen now to be rather than just taking some assigned imperfection to get started on. And so the particular examen is very personal, honest, and at times a very subtle experience of the Lord calling in our hearts for deeper conversion to Himself. The matter of the conversion may remain the same for a long period of time, but the important thing is our sense of His personal challenge to us. Often this experience of the Lord calling for conversion in one small part of our hearts takes the expression of good healthy guilt which should be carefully interpreted and responded to if there is to be progress in holiness. When the particular examen is seen as this personal experience of the Lord's love for us, then we can understand why St. Ignatius suggests that we turn our whole consciousness to this experience of the Lord (whatever it be in all practicality, for example, more subtle humility or readiness to get involved with people on their terms, etc.) at those two very important moments in our day, when we begin our day and when we close it, besides the formal examen times. In this third dimension of the formal examen the growing faith sense of our sinfulness is very central. This is more of a spiritual faith reality as revealed by the Father in our experience than a heavily moralistic and guilt-laden reality. A deep sense of sinfulness depends on our growth in faith and is a dynamic realization which always ends in thanksgiving - the song of a "saved sinner." In his book Growth in the Spirit, Francgis Roustang, in the second chapter, speaks very profoundly about sinfulness and thanksgiving. This can provide enormous insight into the relationship of these second and third elements of the formal examen, especially as dimensions of our abiding Christian consciousness. Contrition and Sorrow The Christian heart is always a heart in song - a song of deep joy and gratitude. But the Alleluia can be quite superficial and without body and depth unless it is genuinely touched with sorrow. This is the song of a sinner constantly aware of being prey to his sinful tendencies and yet being converted into the newness which is guaranteed in the victory of Jesus Christ. Hence, we never grow out of a sense of wonder-ful sorrow in the presence of our Savior. 2O Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 This basic dimension of our heart's vision which the Father desires to deepen in us as He converts us from sinners to His sons and daughters, if we allow Him, is here applied to the specifics of our actions since the lhst examen, especially insofar as they were selfishly inadequate responses to the Lord's work in our hearts. This sorrow will especially spring from the lack of honesty and courage in responding to the Lord's call in the particular examen. This contrition and sorrow is not a shame nor a depression at our weakness but a faith experience as we grow in our realization of our Father's awesome desire that we love Him with every ounce of our being. After this description, the value of pausing each day in formal examen and giving concrete expression to this abiding sense of sorrow in our hearts should be quite obvious and should flow naturally from the third element of practical survey of our actions. Hopeful Resolution for Future This final element of the formal daily examen grows very naturally out of the previous elements. The organic development leads us to face the future which is now rising to encounter us and become integrated into our lives. In the light of our present discernment of the immediate past how do we look to the future? Are we discouraged or despondent or fearful of the future? If this is the atmosphere of our hearts now, we must wonder why and try to interpret this atmosphere; we must be honest in acknowledging our feeling for the future, and not repress it by hoping it will go away. The precise expression of this final element will be determined by the organic flow of this precise examen now. Accordingly, this element of resolution for the immediate future will never happen the same way each time. If it did happen in the same expression each time, it would be a sure sign that we were not really entering into the previous four elements of the examen. At this point in the examen there should be a great desire to face the future with renewed vision and sensitivity as we pray both t~ recognize even more the subtle ways in which the Lord will greet us and to hear His Word call us in the existential situation of the future and to respond to His call with more faith, humility, and courage. This should be especially true of that intimate abiding experience of the Lord calling for painful conversion in some area of our heart - what we have called the particular examen. A great hope should be the atmosphere of our hearts at this point - a hope not founded on our own deserts, or our own powers for the future, but rather founded much more fully in our Father whose glorious victory in Jesus Christ we share through the life of Their Spirit in our hearts. The more we will trust God and allow Him to lead in our lives, the more we will experience true supernatural hope in God painfully in and through, but quite beyond, our own weak powers - an experience at times frightening and emptying but ultimately joyfully exhilarating. St. Paul in this whole passage from the Letter to the Philippians (3:7-14) expresses well the spirit of this conclusion of the formal examen: ". I leave the past behind and with hands outstretched to whatever lies ahead I go straight for the goal" (3:13). Examen and Discernment We will close this article with some summary remarks about the examen, as here described, and disceinment of spirits. When examen is understood in this light and so practiced each day, then it becomes so much more than just a brief exercise performed once or twice ~ day and which is quite secondary to our formal prayer Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 21 and active living of God's love in our daily situation. Rather it becomes an exercise which so focuses and renews our specific faith identity that we should be even more reluctant to omit our examen than our formal contemplative prayer each day. This seems to have been St. Ignatius' view of the practice of the examen. He never talks of omitting it though he does talk of adapting and abbreviating the daily meditation for various reasons. For him it seems the examen was central and quite inviolate. This strikes us as strange until we revamp our understanding of the examen. Then perhaps we begin to see the examen as so intimately connected to our growing identity and so important to our finding God in all things at all times that it becomes our central daily experience of prayer. For Ignatius finding God in all things is what life is all about. Near the end of his life he said that "whenever he wished, at whatever hour, he could find God" (Autobiography, # 99). This is the mature Ignatius who had so fully allowed God to possess every ounce of his being through a clear YES to the Father that radiated from the very core of his being, that he could be conscious at any moment he wanted of the deep peace, joy, and contentment (consolation, see the Exercises, # 316) which was the experience of God at the center of his heart. Ignatius' identity, at this point in his life, was quite fully and clearly "in Christ" as Paul says: "For now my place is in him, and I am not dependent upon any of the self-achieved righteousness of the Law" (Phil 3:9); Ignatius knew and was his true self in Christ. Being able to find God whenever he wanted, Ignatius was now able to find Him in all things through a test for congruenc~ of any interior impulse, mood, or feeling with his true self. Whenever he found interior consonance within himself (which registers as peace, joy, contentment again) from the immediate interior movement and felt himself being his true congruent self, then he knew he had heard God's word to him at that instant. And he responded with that fullness of humble courage so typical of Ignatius. If he discovered interior dissonance, agitation, and disturb-ance "at the bottom of the heart" (to be carefully distinguished from repugnance "at the top of the head''2) and could not find his true congruent self in Christ, then he recognized the interior impulse as an "evil spirit" and he experienced God by "going against" the desolate impulse (cf. Exercises, # 319). In this way he was able to find God in all things by carefully discerning all his interior experiences ("spirits"). Thus discernment of spirits became a daily very practical living of the art of loving God with his whole heart, whole body, and whole strength. Every moment of life was loving (finding) God in the existential situation in a deep quiet, peace, and joy. For Ignatius, this finding God in the prese.nt interior movement, feeling, or option was almost instantaneous in his mature years because the central "feel" or "bent" of his being had so been grasped by God. For the beginner, what was almost instantaneous for the mature Ignatius may require the effort of a prayerful process of a few hours or days depending on the importance of the movement-impulse to be discerned. In some of his writings, Ignatius uses examen to refer to this almost instantaneous test for congruence with his true self - something he could do a number of times every hour of the day. But he also speaks of examen in the formal restricted sense of two quarter-hour exercises of prayer a day. The intimate and essential relationship between these two senses of examen has been the point of this whole article. 2john Carroll Futrell, S.J., Ignatian Discernment (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1970), p. 64. IEDWABD CARTIER, S.J. Pluralism in Christian Life [ Edward Carter, S.J., author of Response in Christ (1969) and Spirituality for Modern Man (197 I), is associate professor of theology at Xavier University ; Cincinnati, Ohio 4520"/.] There has always been a certain diversity which has characterized the history of Christian life or spirituality. There have been different schools of spirituality, different trends, different emphases; but all of these, in so far as they have been authentic, have been rooted in the same gospel message. They have, each in their own manner, been reflections of the one mystery of Christ. Today's Church is marked by an accentuation of this diversity in spirituality or Christian living. But before fastening our gaze upon the contemporary scene, let us first reflect upon some of the theological principles which give rise to this diversity or pluralism. The first of these principles concerns the mystery of Christ as relived by Church and Christian. The People of God, individually and collectively, are meant to continue the redemptive Incarnation in space and time by reliving the life, death, and resurrection of Christ - the mystery of Christ. The mystery of Christ, however, is richly d.iversified. Jesus in His life, death, and resurrection has left us many different truths and examples to be incorporated into our own Christian existence. Historically, this rich variation of the mystery of Christ has given rise to different schools of spirituality. Each of these gives a special witness to this or that aspect of the Christ-event, to its own particular harmonization and implementation of the various facets which comprise this event - the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. For instance, Carmelite spirituality has always stressed prayer, as it gives a special witness to the Christ who often went aside and prayed to His heavenly Father. Benedictine spirituality gives a special attention to liturgy, and, consequently, emphasizes the priestly activity of Christ. Dominican spirituality has traditionally stressed the pursuit of truth as it points in its own special manner to the prophetic or teaching office of Christ. Franciscan spirituality, among other things, has emphasized the material simplicity of Jesus' life. Ignatian spirituality has stressed as one of its leading characteristics the union of a~tion and contemplation - both of which were marvelously blended in the life of Jesus. In more recent times, in the effort to apply in a special way the mystery of Christ to the diocesan priesthood and to the laity, there have been writings dealing with the spiritualities appropriate to these two vocations. The mystery of Christ, then, possessing at one and the same time a varied richness and a profound unity, makes possible different spiritual movements which, however, ultimately comprise but one Christian spirituality. Consequently, we must preserve a balanced view. We must admit the legitimacy of varied spiritual movements and schools of spirituality with their own particular nuances in the following of Christ, while at the same time realizing that all Christian spiritualities are essentially the same. They have very much in common since they are rooted in the one Christ, in one and the same total Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 23 gospel, in one and the same liturgy. We have established what is a very basic theological reason for diversity in spirituality - the diversity which is contained in the very mystery of Christ. There are two more principles we would now like "to discuss which help us to see' the utility and even necessity of diversity or pluralism in the Christian life. These second and third principles are connected with what we might term the theology of personal uniqueness, and the theology of time and culture. The theology of personal uniqueness tells us that each human person is an eternal imitation of God. Any one individual can truthfully say that there never has been, is not now, nor ever will be, any other person like himself. Each person is a eternal uniqueness. As we are elevated to supernatural life through our incorporation into Christ, this personal uniqueness is .deepened. This is simply an application of the theological principle that grace does not destroy nor lessen nature, but perfects it, gives it a deepened capacity to actuate more deeply all its authentic dimensions. One of these dimensions is personal uniqueness. Our life in Christ, then, far from destroying or lessening our uniqueness, respects and develops it. There are various implications and ramifications flowing out of this theology of personal uniqueness relative to diversity or pluralism in spirituality. We have said that there are various spiritual movements and schools of spirituality because of the possibility of reliving the richly diversified .mystery of Christ with different emphases and nuances. As this diversity is possible between schools of spirituality, so is it possible in reference to individuals. Not only is it possible, but it is actually necessary because of the concept of personal uniqueness. No two Christians will put on Christ in exactly the same manner; for they put on Christ according to what each is. Although obviously each Christian is to assimilate Christ in essentially the same manner, he will also do it in a manner which cannot be duplicated. He will offer Christ his own unique person with his unique temperament, personality, capacities, and talents. Through the uniqueness of this Christian, Christ continues His redemptive Incarnation in a particular way, a way which cannot be duplicated. Consequently, even though two individuals are following the same spirituality - Dominican, Franciscan, Ignatian, or any other - there will be a difference or a diversity manifested as they live out this common spirituality. Sometimes this diversity will be quite striking. This does not mean that one or the other has wavered from the spiritual tradition to which each has committed himself or herself. Of course, such a diversity could be so explained in certain instances. But a diversity, and again even a striking one, could be present as each is authentically living out the one spiritual tradition which they profess in common. In such cases the diversity is to be explained by the principle of personal uniqueness. Furthermore, pluralism or diversity in the Christian life is found not only between the different spiritualities, not only between individuals, but also within the extended existence of the same individual. Contemporary thought has empha-sized that man and his world must be considered according to a framework which has a dynamic, progressive, evolutionary dimension. We now realize that we must not view man as being a static creature. While it is obviously important to realize that man is always essential!y the same throughout the ages, it is also very important to remember that man has a thrust toward change, toward evolving into what he is yet to become,.toward authentically adapting to the signs of the times. If such truths are applicable to mankind in general, they are also proportionately pertinent to each individual. Because each individual has an evolutionary dimen-. sion, a thrust toward that which has not yet been achieved, an innate desire to 24 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 become more what his uniqueness is destined to be, he is simultaneously always the same individual and always a dynamically different individual. One's personal uniqueness, then, has both an unchangeable and a changeable dimension. We can see the implications of this for one's Christian existence. Because the Christian is meant to change dynamically and evolve into a greater assimilation to Christ, his needs are not always the same. While he must always strive to maintain a proper balance of the Christian essentials according to his present spiritual condition and development, his needs may vary.'At a certain time he may be attracted to giving a considerable amount of time to formal prayer. At another time, while not neglecting set times of prayer, he may feel called to a greater external involvement for the cause of Christ. At certain periods of his life he may feel a need for frequent spiritual direction, while at other times the intervals of this direction will be greatly lengthened. A person can feel a graced attraction for the renunciation of certain created goods and values at one time, while at another he is drawn rather to use and relate to them in a proper fashion. While always striving to have a proper balance in his imitation of Christ, he can differ in his desire to focus his attention now on this, now on that event of Jesus' life, now on this truth of Christ, now on another. Spiritual diversity or pluralism, consequently, is present within the one and same Christian individual. Having seen how diversity is present in the Christian life because of the principle of pluralism contained in the very mystery of Christ, and because of the principle of personal uniqueness, we now come to our third and final principle which helps provide a basis for such diversity or pluralism. This principle deals with ideas contained in what can be called the theology of time and culture. In God's dealings with mankind, the concepts of time, or of historical situation, and culture, have played a very important role. In saving man, God works within time, history, and culture. His salvific action is not unnaturally superimposed upon man's historical and cultural situation. Rather, God's salvific process works within time, history, and culture. Consequently, His saving will throughout the continued course of salvation history manifests itself differently - diversely or pluralistically. This diversity or pluralism of God's salvific activity can in part be explained by the factor of historical and cultural exigency. A .classic example of this is the comparison between the old and new covenants. God's dealings with the people of the Mosaic covenant were conditioned both by the point of time in salvation history that was then actually operative, and the culture of the Jewish people. With the enfleshment of His Son and the ensuing formation of the new covenant, God communicated Himself in a manner partially different from that Self-communica-tion which prevailed during the time of the Mosaic covenant. If God's salvific activity has a pluralism or diversity attached to it because He respects the time-conditioned and culture-conditioned life situation of man, so must there be a similarly caused pluralism in Christian life. For the Christian life is radically a response to God's salvific activity, a response to His loving initiative which always precedes us. God's activity, respecting the differences which time and culture insert into human history, will exact differentiated responses from the Christian community. This differentiation or pluralism can exist between the various ages of the Church, and, therefore, we legitimately speak of the pre-dominant spirituality of the sixteenth century or of a certain period within the eighteenth century. This pluralism can also exist within the same age because of cultural differences. God respects the African culture, the Chinese culture, the American culture, and so forth. As Christians within these various cultures respond Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/I 25 to God's continued Self-communication, they will do so in a manner which is partly determined by their particular cultures. Because there are differences in their cultures, we will find a Christian pluralism arising out of these cultural differences. An African spirituality will differ somewhat from an American spirituality, and they both will differ from a Spanish spirituality. Up to this point we have been discussing basic truths and principles which offer a sound theological basis for pluralism in Christian spirituality. This pluralism, while obviously having a place in any age of Christianity, is an especially important dimension of contemporary Christian life; for today's Church offers a particularly advantageous climate for the development of authentic pluralism in Christian living. This favorable climate has developed because of the greater spirit of freedom which is present in today's Church. True, this greater freedom has been abused in many instances, but this fact cannot deny that God seems to intend this climate of expanded freedom in today's Church, for this freedom has emanated from the very truths and principles of Vatican II. The connection between pluralism and a Church which allows a greater freedom of thought and life style expression is obvious. In such a Church various thrusts of pluralism and diversity are bound to fructify more often than in a Church which is heavily monolithic, a Church which has its thought and life style too much imposed from the top down. The hierarchy will always have the leading role in directing the Christian thought and life style of the People of God, but it must do so according to the principle of collegiality. This principle allows for all members of the People of God to help shape the life of the Church. However, in order to flourish, collegiality needs a spirit of freedom, some elbow room in which to maneuver - and, yes, even in which to make some mistakes. Consequently, even though some are tempted to think at times that the greater freedom of today's Church has resulted in more harm than good, fundamentally this is not true. In the last analysis such a Church will be a healthier and more mature Church - and one characterized by a greater pluralism in her Christian life. There are already various examples of an increased pluralism in today's Christian life. For instance, the liturgical aspect of today's spirituality is greatly diversified when compared to the liturgical situation of ten years ago. As for the apostolic dimension of contemporary Christian life, there has been considerable discussion and implementation relative to pluralism in Christian ministry. Also, Christian life style is considerably more pluralistic today than previously. This greater diversity of life style can be found even within the one and same religious order or congregation. There has also been a much greater pluralism in theological thought, a pluralism which often filters down and makes its impact on spirituality, on Christian living. New and diversified forms of prayer have appeared to take their places alongside the traditional ones. These, then, are some indications that today's Christian life is marked by an increased diversity. There are three special qualities which are necessary to live properly in today's Christian community with its increased pluralism. These qualities are not mutually exclusive. There is an overlap between them, but each has its own particular nuance. First of all, there is the need for an increased awareness of the necessity of spiritual discernment. Among the diverse movements in today's Church, which are really Spirit-led? And after I satisfy myself as to which are Spirit-inspired and which are not, which one does the Spirit intend for me personally? Regardless of any particular age of the Church, the Spirit does not intend any one person to incorporate within his own Christian existence all authentic thought styles and life 26 Review for Religious, Volume 3 I, 1972/i styles. But in an age when authentic possibilities have been greatly increased and diversified, the necessity for spiritual discernment becomes more obvious. To cope properly with today's pluralism we also especially need the quality of Christian maturity. Increased diversity within the Church demands increased maturity. In the more tightly structured and monolithic Church of pre-Vatican II days, we had things spelled out for us in much greater detail compared to the situation which prevails today. The Church of today is asking us to exercise a greater maturity, a more mature use of our freedom, as we are called upon to live responsibly in a more pluralistic Church. The Church is asking us to use our greater freedom properly, not to abuse it, but to direct it, among other ways, at the development of an authentic pluralism. Finally, besides an increased sense of Christian discernment and maturity, there is a special need today for the spirit of Chrisitan tolerance - a tolerance of the views and life styles which do not agree with my own. The need for this spirit of tolerance is indeed evident if only we look at what each of us has experienced in recent years. One of the great pains of the post-Vatican I1 Church is precisely that caused by the numerous and diverse viewpoints which have arisen in the contem-porary Church. This spirit of tolerance, of course, does not mean we condone what we think is wrong. It does mean, though, an increased effort at being open to the views of others, an admission that a more greatly diversified Church is intended by the signs of the times, a realization that we are all more likely to make mistakes in such a situation as we grope for the lead of the Spirit, a lead which at times is much more hidden than we would like because of the confusion of a Church and world experiencing a radical transition. A more diversified Church and a more pluralistic Christian life are what we are all experiencing. We can say, as perhaps all of us have been tempted to say at one time or another during recent years, that it is too difficult to cope consistently with the situation. We have all, no doubt, been tempted to withdraw from the struggle which an increasingly pluralistic Church demands. We have been tempted to carve out our own little niche of Christian existence and there lead an unperturbed life and let all the confusion of a Church striving for authentic renewal and pluralism pass us by. If we surrendered to such a temptation, we would avoid a certain kind of pain and suffering. But we would also be missing the joy and sense of accomplishment which result from contributing our share to the shaping of a contemporary Christian life - one characterized, among other things, by an increased pluralism. DAVID K. 0'ROURKE, 0.P. Three Models for Viewing Religious Life [David K.O'Rourke, O.P:, is the prior of the Berkeley Priory; 1730 Arch Street; Berkeley, California 94709; he is also associate professor of pastoral theology in St. Albert's College and in the Graduate Theological Onion of Berkeley and is associate director of the Western Dominican Province's Pastoral Training Program. I The purpose of this article is to give a structured view of some of the reasons why a man may choose to enter religious life. More specifically, it is an attempt to understand in a schematic and rationalized way, with three different and distinct models, what there is in the religious life that brings a potential member to view it as a viable alternative to the several possibilities in the lay life. Obviously, this means that I see the religious life as a viable alternative, and such is the case. There is always the possibility that an analysis of religious motivations and structures can come from, or be seen as, an attempt to undercut religious life. The fact that analyses of this sort have been known to have the heavy-handedness of an autopsy supports these fears. Such is not my purpose. I presuppose that religious life is livable and worthwhile, and I presuppose this because I have seen it to be so for myself and others. Of course, there are pathological reasons why one may choose to enter a religious community. These have been analyzed with ability and insight. My purpose here is to apply the same analytic approach to the valid and healthy reasons that enter into a sound vocation. This latter comment is significant because it points out the pragmatic and experiential quality of the approach I will follow in this article. There are other approaches, ones which would begin on a more absolute and theocentric note, or ones which could begin in a less concrete and more "spiritual" way. I have no argument with them. I presuppose all they might say. Here I limit myself to the more human and concrete elements which enter into an individual's decision. It will also be noted that I am speaking here of male religious. This does not mean that the ideas presented here are not applicable to women religious. However, the ideas in this article are drawn from experience with male religious and in fact might not be applicable to women. My experience with women religious has been limited primarily to counseling those in the process of leaving their communities. Obviously this would give me a one-sided view, so I will leave the question of applicability to the ladies themselves. To begin with, and again noting that my view is of healthy reasons, I see people entering religious life in order to make sense of their lives. With the approach of adulthood a young man is faced with the need of stating for himself who he is, the better to enter into the tasks and relationships that face him. The answer to the question "Who am I?" is critical for his future life. Now it is fairly certain, I imagine, that very few men, save in the hands of TV script writers, actually pose the question "Who am I?" in so many words. Yet, faced with choosing their education, their type and place of employment, their friends, and the need to 28 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 establish a different, more independent relationship with their families, they are in fact faced with the question "Who am 17" And the answers that each makes to these questions, the decisions he maizes about his education, employment, and human relationships will bring into play and firm up the values that will give the ethical dimension to his self-view. It is my experience that the choice for a life within the context of a religious community can be understood in this light. To make this understanding more concrete 1 propose to speak about three models of religious life which have occurred to me, and which bespeak three rather functionally significant aspects of life. They are functionally significant, as I put it, in that by their individual and interwoven appeal they can be seen to account for a major portion of our religious vocations. These three models are the service model, the life style model and the intellectual model. I will speak of each in turn. The service model entails the desire to help, and the process of being helpful to, others. It means a self-view in which the helping process looms large. Asked the question "Who am I?" the answer would be "I am a person who helps others." Obviously, this desire to help and the actual fact of serving can take many forms. In fact it has taken many forms in the course of the Church's history. The many religious groups dedicated to education, to caring for the sick and old, and in general to meeting the needs of those in need, bear eloquent witness to the institutionalization of the service model. Viewing this model further within the context of self-identity, we can single out the following additional elements. By definition it is other-oriented. There is a relational quality which predominates. The individual's energies turn outward from himself to another person or persons. Furthermore, the medium by which the individual religious relates to others is the work he performs for them. This bespeaks a certain type of personality. 1 might add here that the notion of a "personality type" does not imply some sort of pathology. Rather, it is no more than the recognition that the abilities, interests, likes, and dislikes of any individual will lead him to interact with the world around him in such a way that we can note patterns of similarity between certain individuals. The second of the models is the life style model. This is really quite different from the service model. Again using the question of identity, the individual attracted by this model would identify himself by referring to the way he goes about the details of his life. Its scheduling and disciplines, its structures such as the patterns of collective prayer, communality in housing, dress, and table all point to a definite and institutionalized way of life. And it is a style of life to which the individual adapts himself. Again, this life style model has had a long history in the Church. It typifies all those groups which we call monastic and can be seen as the most notable element in monasticism. The relational quality in the life style model is also quite different from that in the service model. Here the relationship is in large part with the individual himself. This might seem strange since there are so many external acts and tangible elements that go into the daily life of a monastic community and to which the individual is called on to relate and respond. But they are things whereby he can give to himself a shape and forming consonant with the values embodied in this style of life. It might seem that this life style model is not only different from but runs counter to the service model. In many ways this is true. It is difficult to say that a way of life that is oriented to helping others is basically the same as a way of life that is oriented toward helping one's self. I do not claim that they are basically the Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 29 same but quite the contrary. My purpose here is, once again, to state that these models are real, that they are articulated in these ways, and that they function in the lives of those in religious life. The third model of religious life 1 wish to go into is the intellectual model. This differs from the above two in that it denotes an approach that is typified not as much by action as by a state of mind. The individual who is attracted by this approach is an individual who enters situations head first. He is interested in knowing the reason why.Faced with the question of self-identity he answers "I am a person who must make sense of things, and to do so I must know why they are the way they are." Does this really differ from the other two? I find that it definitely does, that it is not just an aspect of either of the first two models. The individual drawn by the service model is not about to question the value of serving others. Its value is self-evident. The individual drawn by the life style model is content with the fact that to him this way of life feels right. The individual characterized by the intellectual model is by nature a questioner. Whatever the emotional or other causes, the result is an approach typified by a series of probing questions. Furthermore, his questioning will often be directed toward the other two models. Is this the person we should help? Is this the way to help? What are our priorities here, and are they correct? Is this monastic life appropriate? Why do you like it? Is it worthwhile, does it make sense? In relating to others he does so with a question on his lips. This question stems from his need to make intellectual sense of his world. He confronts, he challenges, he probes, often in a way offensive to those who do not understand his way of doing things. There is an analytic and evaluative process at work, one which can lead to a further integration into the religious life, but which can also appear to be negative and destructive. It can be argued that the individual drawn into religious life by the intellectual model is basically looking into someone else's way of doing things. What are his own supports and values? To answer perhaps oversimply, his chief support is the process itself of analyzing. As long as he is able to continue trying to make sense of things he will be sufficiently at home with himself to survive with some comfort. In addition, there is the more important question of this person's utility t6 the community around him. Does his probing and examining of his community's emotional, theological, financial, and mythological supports serve any purpose? I think it does. The Church in its history, at least in its more self-reflective periods, has tried to build in mechanisms for self-criticism. Granted, this has been with mixed success at best. But we do hold our own critics in some real esteem, at least in hindsight. In addition, we have institutionalized this critical process in those areas of moral theology which deal with concrete issues. The Church and the religious life, at least on the theoretical level, havealways had a place for the analyser, and the capacity of the institution to tolerate its critics is a sign of its maturity. It might also be helpful to point out, finally, that the questioning by this individual does not come necessarily from an opposition to those things he questions. It is analysis, it is not attack. It might well be hard to put up with, but it is primarily this person's way of relating to the world around him. At this point 1 would again like to point out that each of these models is a partial view, and each one does typify real people. Any one of these models is sufficiently capable of absorbing the energies of an individual to provide for him a rather complete view of his vocation. The fact that the model might bespeak a limited 30 Review for Religious, Volume 3 I, 1972/1 approach, in fact does bespeak a limited approach, is both true and irrelevant. The energies and interests of any one individual are always limited. What I am here maintaining is that this limitation has a recoghizable shape to. it, and that in my experience the diversity in these shapes can be viewed in the light of these three models without notable distortion. The fact of limitation can also have aspects to it which are not quite as neutral as might seem to be the case from the above statements. I would like to single out the types of difficulties that can and do arise with each of these models. The service model, as noted above, will be attractive to the person whose identity receives outward expression in helping others. Obviously, this means that this individual will be oriented toward work, since service reqhires work. In certain situations the outlet for helping others is rather severely cut off. This is the case in many novitiates, and especially during academic studies. Here the student is expected to channel his energies in ways which are different from those to which he is accustomed, and this does not come easy. I would suspect that much of the criticism directed against seminary studies has this at its root. The students are not so much opposed to study as they are frustrated in their desire, indeed their need, to expend their energies in the way that comes most easily to them. A basic pattern of relating is frustrated, and this frustration is going to make itself felt. In addition we can expect that any notable frustration in the attempt to be of service is going to cause stress for this individual. Whether the frustration comes from competing requirements, such as studies, or from official interference, or from the rejection of the services offered, the result will be the same - a sense of disorientation that the individual will be hard pressed to cope with. Of all these possibilities probably the most troubling is the rejection of help offered because it is so final and does not admit of alternatives. When the rejected help is the product of considerable effort and the result of a great in~,estment on the part of the individual, the effect can be devastating. Religious who place great stock in their work and are told at some point th::t what they have been preparing for or what they have already been doing is no longer needed are prime examples of this. Their crisis is not a minor one but one that can shake them to the roots of their personality. There is also the danger that the individual attracted by this model - or any of these three, for that matter - will not be a particularly self-reflective person. In this case he is not apt to see that his way of doing things - the particular model that attracts him, or his way of putting it to work - has some subjective and personal need-fulfilling sources to it. His way becomes absolutized, his way becomes the way, and other ways are to be adapted and refashioned in support of his. Furthermore, explaining to the non-reflective person, presenting him with an intelligible rationale which tells him why his view is too narrow, is a waste of time. By definition, by virtue of the fact that he is non-reflective, he will be unable to grasp tiffs. It is asking him to use a weak or undeveloped faculty. It is much better to present him with the conclusion, that is, that others are not going to adapt to suit him, and help him cope with it as best he can. With the person attracted by the life style model, the limitations are of quite another sort. We can pinpoint them by observing that monastic practices have considerable similarities in Christian and non-Christian traditions. It is possible to be a good monk, as the Buddhist monastic tradition bears witness, without being a Christian. There is thus nothing basically Christian about monasticism; it is one of the ways man has invented for living a human life. Also, monasticism can have an Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 31 absolute character to it; it can engage all the time and energies of the monk in a pattern of meditative, penitential, and ritual practices. In addition there is a certain absolutism in Christianity. The life and teachings of Jesus, our knowledge of the early Church from the Acts and St. Paul, and the subsequent development of both these in the life of the Church and in its theology, point out that the half-hearted and lukewarm Christian life is to be shunned in favor of greater commitment. The danger here is to make the mistake of equating monastic absolutism with Christian absolutism. 1 believe that when this happens it does so because monastic absolutism presents an articulated, structured, and circumscribed channel for the Christian's desire to get in touch with what is absolute. In its most extreme form this would be to equate becoming one with the monastic absolute, that is, becoming absorbed, as it were, by the monastic life st~,le, with being one with God. It seems more exact to say that what has happened here is the substitution of a collective human structure for the individual personality, a process of quite questionable morality. But this is an extreme. Our focus here is the garden variety of problem that' comes from the life style model. The one I see to be common and troubling is the equation of religious life as a whole with the life style model. It is easy to see how this happens. Since it is the life style model that deals most directly with externals, especially with those externals which differentiate religious life from lay life, it is easy to equate these tangible and visible elements with religious life. This is a beginner's problem, and except in one area we seem to outgrow it. The exception has to do with the process of introducing new members. They are frequently placed under the direction of someone who is rather committed to the life style model. In large part I think this is due to the expectations of the incoming members, whose focus on visible and external elements is quite normal. It is also due, I suspect, to the guilt of work-oriented superiors about the lack of this model in their own lives, and for which they compensate in the choice of formation superiors. Be the cause what it may, it stacks the deck against a broader and more complete view of the opportunities present in the religious life. The problems in the intellectual model come, as with the others, from the very heart of the model. The intellectually oriented person is probably more developed in the thinking than in the feeling area. He will have less appreciation for the areas of religious life that utilize the feeling side, such as the symbolic and liturgical. This lack can become a real problem, for it can lead to an intolerance of any areas and elements which do not admit of the clear-cut, sharp-edged, and logical approach that is possible in the mind. Having viewed these three models there remains only one major comment I wish to make about them. It is fairly common to recognize that religious, like other people, will be oriented in one direction rather than another, that they have definite personalities, likes, dislikes, abilities, and weaknesses. And having recog-nized this, it is also common to forget it, to hope and expect that the individual will work out a personal balance including significant elements from each of these models. This is often raised to the level of an ideal, the religious equivalent of the well-rounded individual. This expectation is unrealistic, and it can be disastrous. A person who is drawn into religious life by the service model, and for whom the service model represents an important expression of his personal makeup, is quite apt not to be attracted by the life style model. If he is not, then any attempt to make him respond as though he were attracted by it probably won't work. If this is an importarit element in the 32 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 life of the group he is entering, then he should not enter it. If the religious group requires only some token observance of the life style model, recognized as token, then he can be expected to put up with it in the way any mature person can be expected to put up with things he doesn't like. But if the life style model, in fact, be important in the life of this community, then he shouldn't be there in the first place. There is no way, short of self-delusion, to get around the simple but difficult fact that he is in the wrong place. The hopes that he will change, that he will develop an appreciation for this view, are as futile as they are potentially destructive. The probable result will be complaining, fault-finding, and after considerable turmoil, departure for some situation where he can be of service to others and where he should probably have been in the first place. The same is true of the other models. The individual who comes to religious community because he wants and needs the structured, orderly life that comes from the life style model cannot realistically be expected to work and function well where these do not exist. If the life style model is part of the whole pattern of life there will be no problem. If, as is often the case, it is part of the seminary structure, after which the individual is expected to shift to a service model and provide his own working and personal structures, then there is going to be a dangerous situation, possibly involving a personal collapse. Similarly~ the individual drawn to religious life in order to make sense of his life, where making sense bespeaks an intellectual approach, cannot be expected to make a shift from this approach to another one. The fact that the particular style of life which he is asked to enter, and which he can't intellectually organize, might "feel right" to others will mean nothing to him and will probably antagonize him. The same applies to a work situation. "This is the way we do things here," or "This has always been our system" may be satisfying answers to some people. They will not satisfy this individual. He will be disturbed and disturbing until he is given a reason why. If none is to be forthcoming then it is better that he not work in that context. Some religious groups, such as my own Dominican Order, do combine these different models. But the combination is one of tension. We recognize that the tension is there, and we expect our members to tolerate it. We do not expect to be able to resolve it and thus demand that our members pay the price for maintaining the several elements which we see to be of value. There should be no question, however, but that there is a price to be paid. In summary, then, 1 see these models as expressions of personality patterns which do exist in reality. Whatever be the cultural or psychological causes here, experience seems to point out that we can speak of people who live their lives using the service of others, a structured life style, and an intellectual understanding of far-reaching reasons as means for ordering their lives. Furthermore, these patterns are often firm and definite. And, they are incorporated to differing degrees in the makeup of different religious groups. It seems crucial to me that, for everyone's benefit, religious groups should determine their own basic orientation and recruit their members accordingly. NICHOLAS AYO, C.S.C. Variance in the Religious Vows: What Poverty, Why Chaste, Who Obey? [Nicholas Ayo, C.S.C., is a member of the Department of English at the University of Portland ; Portland, Oregon 97203. ] No observer can fail to notice that the religious life under the three vows is undergoing considerable reinterpretation and change. Part of the explanation lies with the sweeping changes revising social and religious institutions throughout the world. What remains in doubt is how far-reaching these reinterpretations have become, and whether they should be viewed substantially as renewal or more as a distortion. The purpose of this essay is not primarily to evaluate the changes in religious life, although to an extent that kind of judgment is inevitable in the very selecting aud ordering of materials, but rather to describe the alternative vow styles that can be observed and to some degree categorized. After the ground has been as accurately mapped as possible, I shall offer some tentative conclusions concerning the progress and direction of the religious life in these days of not only "monasteries without walls," but also "monasteries for sale." In the history of the religious life, the three vows of poverty (goods of the hands and the earth), chastity (goods of body and the heart), and obedience (goods of the mind and the will) are late developments. From the very beginnings of the following of the Gospels in a radical form, there has always been, of course, some kind of interior dedication, if nothing more than a promise made to God alone in one's heart. For those living in comnmnity, a single vow of obedience, or stability, or poverty, or not to tnarry was often considered sufficiently embracive of all the areas of property, family, and discipline required to maintain the well being of a Christian community. What the three vows accomplished did not amount to additional demands upon a total dedication to following the gospel in a radical way, which even the hermit understood welt enough before God, but rather a more explicit determination of a "way of life" that the Church could specify and direct attention to as evangelical by profession and recognized publicly as such by the People of God through their bishops. Poverty Let us look at the three vows separately. Poverty usually is considered first, although apparently for no intrinsic reason. The advantageous effects of poverty depend upon some minimum ownership and use of goods and property. One may retain enough, of course, for life's needs. Destitution distorts poverty. The benefits of poverty, however, were not discovered by Christians. Property of its nature tends to encumber a person, saps his attention, and devours his freedom. The posses-sions- own-you syndro~ne has been with the world a long time. Auyone who owns an expensive yacht, or whatever, may well feel obligated to make use of it, whether 34 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 any longer inclined to or not. Moreover, it takes time, effort, and supervision to maintain an estate, to cultivate, guard, protect, insure, and in all respects properly manage property. Without this effort, the property is sooner or later lost or ruined. The more the wealth, the more the management; and even if managers are hired, the owner has to manage the managers. Property, therefore, unless carefully chosen and curtailed according to one's real needs, easily becomes a burden and actually impedes freedom instead of enhancing it. The pagans knew this, and modern man suspects all too often his convenience machines run him. They must be maintained according to their schedule, not his. Only the man who travels light moves without care. Historically, the ancient monasteries sooner or later acquired great wealth, and contemporary religious orders have amounted to multi-million-dollar operations. Someone has to manage the concerns as well as the property of these institutions. To help preserve the virtue of poverty in those Christians, whether in vows or not, whose task in life demanded the use of the power and goods of the rich, the concept of "stewardship" was evolved. Accordingly, one's labors as manager of millions of dollars were not directed to one's power and prestige, but rather to the commonweal. The steward was merely a servant.whose job was to invest and order goods and services for others. Many. contemporary religious see their vow of poverty in this light. United Air Lines credit cards and new Chevrolets are merely tools, necessary in a modern and affluent world, to get a job done. The heart of th.e religious vowed to poverty ought to remain free of the contamination of wealth, even while he or she has free access to the benefits that only the at least moderately rich enjoy. Poverty of Spirit, a sense of detachment, thus assumes the essence of the vow of poverty. How one uses property, not the quantity and kind of property, becomes the key question. However, from this position, too, a counterinsight arises. The argument goes like this. Granted stewardship is necessary and can be sanctified, it still falls short of the spiritual advantages of actual material poverty. Not everyone need share the poverty of the poor, of course, but those who wish to might vow to do so in an actual and explicit way. Francis of Assisi led a vanguard of those who sold everything, and in sandals alone followed the gospel. In modern times, the carefree poverty of a Francis is difficult to achieve literally - leather sandals can be very expensive. But some groups of religious monks, like the Little Brothers of Charles de Foucauld, do live a simple, inexpensive life, as do their secular monkish counterpart, the sleeping-bag, thumb-riding "hippies" of the 'back-to-the-earth counterculture. This phenomenon demonstrates once more that the advantages of material poverty are not recognized solely by those who follow Jesus Christ alone, although for the believer, identification with the man .of Nazareth, who had nowhere to lay his head, adds a significant core motive. The insight that validates material poverty as such amounts to this. The steward of wealth, while he may well keep his heart unattached, still enjoys the benefits of wealth. He is well cared for and comfortable, and so much the worse for him. Only those who know real want know life in a depth that becomes readily and spontaneously religious. Those who know not where tomorrow's food is coming from have a capacity to appreciate a piece of bread and a cup of cold water as the well-fed can never imagine. The poor know what creaturehood means - to be finite and finally powerless to hold onto one's life and keep everything within one's control. Actually, the rich man does not hold his life securely in his hands either, for accident and microbe strike without distinction of bank account; but the rich Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 35 man can surround himself with apparent defenses, fences, and doctors, who lend him the illusion that he is not finally in fact vulnerable, as the poor man well knows from his own experience. In the living out of actual poverty, virtues such as gratitude for the help of others, heartfelt thanks to God, and sharing alike with others flourish. Faced with helplessness and forced back on basic needs - food, shelter, and friends - it seems far simpler to discover the truth about one's self, that is, one is only a man, naked at birth and destined to dust; masks, poses, the power that corrupts, illusions of bright lights, and life without tragedy, cannot survive the facts. While the rich can hide from the human condition, the poor man knows that to be human is to be vulnerable, even while remaining appreciative, wondering, deeply aware of others, and alive with the radical truth that God alone suffices: "That is why I tell you, don't worry about life, wondering what you are going to eat. And stop bothering about what clothes you will need. Life is much more important than food, and the body more important than clothes. Think of the ravens. They neither sow nor reap, and they have neither store nor barn, but God feeds them. And how much more valuable do you think you are than birds?" (Lk 12:22-5). One further interpretation of poverty deserves mention, because some religious hold to this style, although many point out its fallacy. The position argues that although the group may be wealthy, the individual lives under a spirit of Christian communism - to each according to his need. Needs vary according to status and job, and so does the use of wealth. Actually this p, osition is a variety of the stewardship position, except that it removes the responsibility for management from the individual conscience and invests it in the hierarchical leadership of the group. The individual can thus use any amount of property in peace of conscience provided the group authority has given its approval. The critics of this position, of course, reply that no individual with the vow of poverty can abdicate his responsibility to remain poor, any more than a citizen can automatically wage war simply because his government approves the conflict. Celibacy At first consideration, celibacy seems a necessary concomitant of group living, and group living in a Christian community seems a continuation of the sharing of goods and life outlined in Acts, a sharing which foreshadows the coming of the kingdom. Why groups of families historically have not been able to maintain community living is not easily determined. Through the centuries there have been numerous attempts to do so, from the Brook Farm experiment of our American origins to the communes of 1970, but none have been long lived. Monasteries with single people and strict discipline managed to stay together, but familial groupings have not. No intrinsic reason seems evident to me why Christian community life could not incorporate families, but in practice celibates have a better record of success. The "efficiency model" for the vow of chastity (or celibacy as it might more fairly and accurately be called) emerges from just this insight. For, either it is argued that community life, that is, shared goods and shared inner life, demands celibacy, or even more persuasively it is maintained that a greater freedom for apostolic work becomes available to the single man or woman. Despite the counterarguments of successful and busy married doctors and politicians, it is claimed that a fulltime apostolate often needs a mobility that the person with a family can hardly enjoy without imposing on his family, especially on his children, 36 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 who unlike his wife, did not know in advance what they were getting into. The celibate can work for less money, move locations quickly, and risk his life and health with less fear of the consequences t'o others to whom he is committed and responsible. The input that a generous and inspirational wife might add to a married man's apostolic work is often parried with the negative effects of an unhappy home life in the case of many married "apostles." In short, the argument states that the layman may enlist in the army of Christ, but the celibates will always make up the marines. Besides the "community life" and the "apostolic efficiency" justifications, an appeal for embracing the celibate life may include the "legal status quo." For example, to be a priest, at least today, includes celibacy as part of the package, and when the motivation for the priesthood is high, it can and does override the desire to marry. Actually many men and women remain in celibate vows because by age or inclination they no longer want marriage or children; no't a small number of middle-aged celibates fail to see what overwhelming competition the married state offers the celibate, if children are not a primary consideration. What this reluctance to marry may mean, however, is that many now in celibate vows would have married and raised a family at an earlier age, had the climate of acceptance for such vocational decisions been as good twenty years ago as it is today. Late marriages, of course, will always seem less attractive. If all practical reasons of whatever kind are set aside, whet today might motivate the vow of celibacy? A keen sense of vocation, of being chosen and being called, seems uppermost in many celibate vocational decisions. There is a sense of the mystery behind the destiny of any person, whether to marriage or to single life for the sake of the kingdom: "You have not chosen me, but I have chosen you," and "Everyman who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or land for my sake will receive it all back many times over, and will inherit eternal life" (Mt 19:29). The celibate vocation remains very much on the defensive today. If formerly marriage was considered a second-rate vocation, it is clear that the atmosphere of sexual fulfillment as a necessary ingredient for maturity and personality growth has left the celibate vocation almost in need of a "single's lib" movement. Those who thrive within the celibate vocation seem to have developed a profotind awareness that no man can run the entire gamut of human experience. One life style cancels out another; there are advantages to restraint as well as to delight. Those who are married have a set of pluses and minuses, which while they differ from the pros and the cons of the celibate, may indeed total out to an equivalent sum. Robert Frost's lines "I have chosen the road less travelled by / And it has made all the difference," or Thomas More's apologia in A Man for All Seasons, namely, I choose to believe this because I choose, may finally be the ultimate explanation for a vocation. There is no adequate reason that can be formulated and presented convincingly to any other open-minded person that he should go and do likewise. One is dealing with the kind of radical freedom exercised in choosing a spouse. I marry Susan because I choose Susan, not for any catalog of virtues that would automatically persuade every other reasonable man to marry Susan. Finally, many celibates do experience a discovery in the expanded opportunities for well-developed and often protracted friendships with someone of the opposite sex. Such friendships often enrich their life and yet confirm their vocation to celibacy. The insight that emerges is this. Any deep bisexual friendship demands cultivation, ingenuity, time, effort, emotional energy, imagination, and thoughtful- Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 37 ness. One may conclude that there can be only one dominant psychological center in one's life for any length of time; and if a deep cultivated life of prayer and practi

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

Issue 67.1 of the Review for Religious, 2008. ; Mission Praye~r Consecrated Life Spiritual Supports QUARTERLY 67.'I 2008 Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we try to live according to charisms of Catholic religious life. As Pope Paul V! said, our way of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-633-4610 ¯ Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Maih 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 McD6nough 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. ©2008 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 distrihution, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such perntission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Eugene Hensell OSB Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Paul Coutinho sJ Martin Erspamer OSB Margaret Guider OSF Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD QUARTERLY 67.1 2008 contents prisms 4 Prisms 13 23 mission Conversation: A Brave New Way of Mission James P. McCloskey CSSP envisions creating an experience of "common ground" among people of goodwill within religious congregations about the many issues that cause division. Personal/Group Reflection Questions An "Asian" Meditation on the Gift of Mission James H. Kroeger MM reflects on the "mission motive" mentioned first by the Federation of Asian Bishops Conference: a deep sense of gratitude to God. prayer A Dream, Ash Wednesday, .and the Word Godelieve Theys OCSO shares a dream that has profound implications for finding God's Word alive and powerful, having always new things to say. Pedagogy of Prayer Jghn Carroll Futrell SJ reviews many aspects of our Christian prayer and suggests practical ways of making our lives more prayer-filled. Personal/Group Reflection Questions Pray Passionately Brendan Kneale FSC addresses the need to bring to our prayers a passion of the sort found in the wording of many Psalms. Revie~v for Religious 54 6O 67 consecrated life 0 The Institute of Impracticalities: The Financial Support of Monasteries Clifford Stevens cautions that, as soon as the mere support of the monastery becomes the primary concern, "practicality" takes over and Divine Providence goes right out the window. Enclosure and Other Ways to Widen One's Horizons M. Regina van den Berg FSGM argues that the experiences that travel and the media make possible are often escapes from reality, while the limited environment of the enclosure can widen our horizons. Religious Brotherhood Today Anthony Malaviaratchi CSSR sets. forth the challenges facing religious brothers' congregations, especially within the South Asian context. 74 85 spiritual supports Room for Sacramental Reconciliation? Vincent Genovesi SJ presents a solid theological and pastoral response to the questions raised about the usefulness or necessity of the rite of reconciliation. Personal/Group Reflection Questions Mentors Mentored: Spiritual Companionship with a Saint Lou Ella Hickman IWBS shares her experience of choosing St. Edith Stein to be her mentor as she mentors others on their spiritual journey. departments 89 Scripture Scope: Reading the Sermon on the Mount 94 Canonical Counsel: Personal Records of Community Members 100 Book Reviews 67.1 2008 prisms As we move eight years into the 21st century, we could well take stock of how we are measuring up to the vision and mission set before us by John Paul II's apostolic letter "At the begin-ning of the new millennium." As the pope noted, we are not in the peren-nial process of inventing a new program each year or even each century. The program consists in the plan found in the Gospel and in the liv-ing tradition of the church. "It has its center in Christ himself, who is to be known, loved, and imitated so that in him we may live the life of the Trinity and with him transform history until its fulfillment in the heavenly Jerusalem." But this Gospel program has to be translated into pastoral initiatives that are adapted to the circumstances of each local church and each local religious com-munity. That is the action call as we begin anew with the favor of another year. Where do we begin? There can be no other beginning than the challenge issued by Vatican II's Lumen gentium, chapter 5: the universal call to holiness. All our pastoral planning, all our religious renewal efforts, all our peace and jus-tice endeavors are measured by the clarity of our focus on holiness. In the way we live and in what we do, the question is most realistic and practical: Do we want to become holy? Is that our desire for others? There can be no growth in holiness without our entering more fully into a learning how to pray. While a widespread interest in spirituali- Review for Religious ties and spiritual practices is a contemporary phenomenon, the foundation remains a personal prayer life. Prayer, even in its most contemplative and cloistered forms, opens our hearts simultaneously to the love of God and to the love of our brothers and sisters. It is our Christian prayer that enables us to be shapers of movements and events in our local situation and sometimes even more widely in the world. It is prayer that roots us in the truth that "without Me, you can do nothing" (Jn 15:5). When we pray, we acknowledge the primacy of Christ and, in union with him, the primacy of the interior life and of holiness. Prayer itself needs to be nourished consistendy with a listening to the Word of God. As we continue to steep ourselves in Scripture, we find ourselves warming to the passion of sharing the Good News. This passion leads to a new sense of mission--mission not reserved to specialists or to lands different from our own. Yet witnessing to our faith vision must happen within a context of sensitivity to the differ-ent religious and value paths of our fellow citizens and to the diversity of cultures present within our own country in which the Christian message is expressed. In challenging all of us ordinary Christians, the pope writes: "A new apos-tolic outreach is needed which will be lived as the everyday commitment of Christian communities ahd groups." As Vatican II's Gaudium et spes §34 says, "The Christian message does not inhibit men and women from building up the world or make them disinterested in the welfare ofotheir fellow human beings: On the contrary, it obliges them more fully to do these very things." Review for Religious is privileged to play its part, through its many authors, in sharing insights and encouraging practices for this Christian mission. David L. Fleming SJ 67.1 2008 mission JAMES P. Mc CLOSKEY Conversation: A Brave New Way of Mission Ensnarled in traffic on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, I began to listen to a radio talk pro-gram more intendy than usual. I'was searching for words of consolation on a long and tedious drive. What I found was a fascinating--and stirring--discussion about reconciliation. The topic was abortion, but the focus of the discus-sion was the search for "common ground." The hour-long program was a recapitula-tion of meetings that occurred during the past year. The meetings were organized by women who had opposing positions on the issue of aborti6n. Representatives of both groups described themselves as feminists. The partici-pants in the year-long discussion were women accustomed to the public forum. That is, they were intelligent and articulate spokespersons James P. McCloskey CSSp writes from Congregazione dello Spirito Santo; Clivo di Cinna, 195; Roma 00136; Italy. Review for Religious for "pro-life" and "pro-choice" positions. During the year there had been unsuccessful attempts by some to cancel the series of meetings, angry leaks to the press about the discussions, and genuine fearfulness on both sides. But the meetings took place. And the result was extraordinary. Women who did not accept the position of other women who, in their opinion, allowed the law to regu-late their bodies listened nevertheless with compassion as their colleagues recounted their religious-faith con-victions, their differing understandings of the human person, and ~their simple--and different--biological beliefs. Other women, who could not theretofore abide the notion that females could terminate what they believed to be a human life within them, responded with empathy towards women whose scientific and human-istic principles were simply different from their own. In the end, members of neither group changed their positions. But also, in the end, members of both groups grew in respect and compassion for their "opponents." They achieved a form of "common ground" that will serve as the basis for future relationship and conversa-tion between them. Not for discussion of abortion do I raise this exam-ple, but as a way of envisioning and creating a similar experience of "common ground" among p~ople of good-will within religious congregations that were founded for mission and for service to the poor. The existence of multiple cultures within congregations, mirroring the multiple cultures within the Catholic Church, is evident. These cultures are related to the different languages, tribes, national identities, and ages within the congre-gations, but they are not confined to them. The social scientist Edgar Schein defines culture as "the deeper 67.1 2008 McCloskey * Conversation: A Brave New Way of Mission level of basic assumptions and beliefs that are shared by members of an organization, that operate unconsciously, and that define in a basic 'taken-for-granted' fashion an organization's view of itself and its environment."1 In Schein's view the most useful way to think about culture is to imagine it as "the accumulated shared learning of a given group, covering behavioral, emotional, and cogni-tive elements of the group members' total psychological functioning.''2 Since the publication of Schein's work, the under-standing and perception that most members of an orga-nization share the same cultural viewpoint has moved toward an awareness that many organizations contain multiple cultures or subcultures. Noting that some orga-nizations may have only fragmented, disjointed cultures, Joanne Martin has asked whether culture needs to be something internally consistent, or whether it can be inconsistent and expressive of difference. Can it incor-porate confusion, ignorance, paradox, and fragmenta-tion? What are the boundaries around culture, and how do cultures change?3 By multiple cultures within a religious congrega-tion, I mean the presence of differing and sometimes opposing worldviews under the umbrella of having been founded for a single purpose and with a single Rule of Life. Similarly, among Catholics in general, some define themselves as God's "pilgrim people," a term that implies moving towards the kingdom of God but not yet achieving it. Others think of the church as the kingdom of God here on earth. These different understandings translate into different understandings of morality, sac-ramental life, liturgy, and hierarchy. They are some-times called differences of "style," but they are more profound than that. Review for Religqous In religious missionary congregations, founded for "the spread of the gospel to those who have not yet heard it," it is no wonder that multiple cultures are the order of the day. On a large scale, those differences are racial, linguistic, ideological, generational, and ecclesi-astical. We make national and tribal attempts at "enculturation" of the life of our congregation and its values within a particular set-ting, translating ideals into prac-tice- often with success but not always. Within our congrega-tion's American subculture, mul-tiple differences of culture, are often experienced just as acutely and intensely as in international subcultures. Even in the "real 'life" of persons in one community, such as the same parish or school, different worldviews emerge that challenge common living. Recently, in a community-room conversation, a priest said, "It is impossible to be both Republican and Spiritan." He said it with the force of true conviction, and the Republican Spiritans in the room grew silent and began to seethe. In one prov-ince there are celebrations of the Tridentine liturgy, and there are those who question whether the celebration of daily Eucharist is ideal--or even spiritually healthy. The understanding and perception that most members of an organization share the same cultural viewpoint has moved toward an awareness ,that, many organizations contain multip!~e cultures or Subcultures. 67.1 2008 McCloskey * Conversation: A Brave New Way of Mis~ion There are liberals, conservatives, social activists, phi-losophers, and papists. A morley--and gracedmcrew! Undercurrents of cultural difference emerge in quiet discussions concerning the role of lay associates in the congregation; concerning the rising influence of the "southern" provinces, where candidates are many and new energy and vitality overshadow the elders of the "north"; and concerning members who choose to live and work in "untraditional" settings, interpreting "mis-sion" in a different way. Undercurrents rise to the sur-face during provincial elections or national assemblies, when stakes are high and the level of well-being is at risk. Sometimes an "elephant in the room" is studiously ignored during discussion of clergy sexual abuse, sexual orientation, financial accountability, or institutional assessments. In congregations with a missionary orientation and an international membership, the formal "cultural" training of members tends to be thorough and highly professional. Degrees in cross-cultural communica-tion, missiology, and anthropology abound. Experts in interreligious dialogue, ecumenism, and international development are fairly commonplace. Candidates in for-marion spend a period of ministry in another cultural context before definitive commitment, and most new members are assigned to countries not .their own. It is usual for members to achieve fluency in a second or even a third language. .Why, then, do we often find it difficult to talk among ourselves? Is it simply the human condition that the "traditionalists" will oppose the "progressives," that tribal alliances will win out over competence in choosing leadership, and that "turf wars" will decide who controls property and finance? We opted for more. Review for Religious And we know that the divisions are sinful reminders of our weakness. And so what is the solution to the dissolution? The solution is a simple one--a commitment to sustained and deliberate conversation for the purpose of achiev-ing "common ground." Following the model employed by the pro-life and pro-choice advo-cates, it is imperative to establish "rules" for dis-cussion. It is urgent to listen with care and real empathy. It is important to proceed with respect and humility. No one We know that the divisions are sinful reminders of . our weakness. person fully embodies the congregation's ideal mem-ber. Together, the members bear worldwide witness to the values espoused by its founders. No one perspective is to be eliminated or misjudged. The effort to engage in this conversation is fearful and intimidating. But it is the only way that differences can be respected--and, ultimately, that the persons expressing those different opinions will be respected and loved. The meaning of "mission" has changed since the foundation of the Spiritan congregafon in the 18th cen-tury. Far from an imposition of a foreign culture upon a people, mission is no less than sustained, purposeful, and respectful dialogue. It is a commitment to remain at the table, conversing honestly until the Spirit speaks. W-hat greater witness to the "mind of Christ" is possible than the example of a community determined to "linger at the table" and fully invest itself in genuine, honest conversation--for mission? 67.1 2008 McCloskey ¯ Conversation: A Brave New Way of Mission Notes t Edgar Schein, Organizational Culture and Leadership (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1985), p. 6. 2 Schein, Organizational Culture and Leadership, 2nd edition (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1992), p. 10. 3 Joanne Martin, Cultures in Organizations: Three Perspectives (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), p. 4. 2o o Personal/Group Reflection Questions Where does my sense 6f mission come from--directly from God, from superiors, from the community in which I live? What give me a continuing sense of confirmation and support for my mission? When do we talk about our mission-~our individual ministries or our corporate ministry together? What makes this conversation helpful? What makes it painful and contentious? Review for Religious JAMES H. KROEGER An "Asian" Meditation on the Gift of Mission ~/~y mission? This perennial, persistent question mits of a variety of valid responses. Asking why is fundamentally a question of "mission motivation." Why evangelize? Why be Jesus' disciple? Why concern yourself?. What ends does mission really serve? The bishops of Asia continually grapple with these questions as they explore the evangelizing mission of the church on this vast continent of four billion people, where less than three percent of the burgeoning masses are Christian. Although these leaders of the church in Asia have elucidated several reasons for engaging in mission, what is striking is the "mission motive" they James H. Kroeger MM has since 1970 served mission in the Philippines and Bangladesh. Currently he is professor of Mission Studies and Islamics at the Loyola School of Theology; Ateneo de Manila University; Katipunan Avenue, Loyola Heights; Quezon City 1108; Philippines. jkroeger@admu.edu.ph 67.1 2008 Kroeger * The Gift of Mission mentioned first during the fifth plenary assembly of the Federation of Asian Bishops' Conferences (FABC). Collectively they forcefully asserted: "We evange-lize, first of all, from a deep sense of gratitude to God, the Father 'who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing' (Ep 1:3) and sent the Spirit into our hearts so that we may share in God's own life. Mission is above all else an overflow of this life from grateful hearts transformed by the grace of God" (FABC V). The Asian bishops vigorously affirm: "That is why it is so important for us Christians to have a deep faith-experience of the love of God in Christ Jesus (Rm 8:39), that love which has been poured forth in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who has ,been given to us (Rm 5:5). Without a personal experience of this love received as gift and mercy, no sense of mission can flourish" (FABC V). Note some of the words and phrases that the FABC uses to describe this motive for mission: "gratitude to God," "grateful hearts," "spiritual blessing," "given to us," "love received as gift and mercy." Indeed, mission is viewed as a gi~, graciously given, gratefully received, and generously shared. Gratitude is a powerful motive for energetic evangelization. The Image of Gift All cultures and peoples give gifts, particularly on special occasions and at significant life events: birthdays, weddings, holidays, anniversaries. Gifts bond people together, they express gratitude and appreciation. Gifts are chosen personally and carefully, to please each recip-ient. Often gifts-are exchanged at the same moment, further cementing families together, and friends too. Asians have elevated gift-giving into an art. What would Chinese celebrations and the Lunar New Year Review for Religiot~ be without generous gifts offered in red envelopes (ang-pao)? In Korea the ritual celebration of one's sixtieth birthday (hwangap) is an occasion for lavish gifting. No Filipino feels comfortable without bringing some pasa-lubong-- large or small--when returning home. Probably it is the experience of giving and receiving gifts--so deeply human--that prompted Asia's bishops to see gratitude for abundant grace received as a fit-ting image and motive for mission. This gift image expresses Christian thankfulness for God's unique, gra-tuitous, gift--Jesus the Son. Each day in the Eucharist, a Greek word that means thanksgiving (eucha-ristein), we say "we do well always and everywhere to give you thanks." Frequently in the Mass the Prayer over the Gifts refers to the "holy exchange of gifts." To help in grasping the deep meaning in the image of mission as gift, this "Asian" reflection now presents three interrelated moments of what might be termed "gift missiology." Three "R" words capture mission-as-gift: Recognize, Receive, and Reciprocate. Recognize by being profoundly aware of the uniqueness of God's gift. Receive by personally appropriating God's gift. Reciprocate by sharing God's gift with others. :The first moment in hppreciatin g "gift missiology" is ~to become deeply conscious of th~ depths of God's love. Recognizing the Gift The first moment in appreciating "gift missiology" is to become deeply conscious of the depths of God's 67.1 2008 Kroeger ¯ The Gift of Mission love, the love of the Trinity. The mission decree of the Second Vatican Council (Ad gentes) noted: "The pilgrim church is missionary by her very nature. 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. This decree [divine plan] flows from that 'fountain of love' or charity within God" (AG §2). Mission originates in the centrifugal love of the Trinity; our missionary God shares of his essence which is love. God the Father gifts us with his incar-nate Son and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. One can receive no greater gift. Prayer and contemplation facilitate a depth-awareness of this great gift. The New Testament is replete with expressions of God's magnanimous generosity. Paul reminds the Romans: "Adam prefigured the One to come, but the gift considerably outweighed the fall . Divine grace, coming through the one man Jesus Christ, came to so many as an abundant free gift. The results of the gift also outweigh the results of one man's sin . Jesus Christ will cause everyone to reign in life who receives the free gift that he does not deserve" (Rm 5:15-17). As one con-templates God's profound generosity, gratitude wells up in_the heart, leading one to proclaim "Thanks be to God for his inexpressible gift" (2 Co 9:15). Recognizing God's gifts also means being pro-foundly aware that we do not earn or merit the gifts; they come from God's generosity, as Paul explains to the Ephesians: "This was to show for all ages to come, through his goodness towards us in Christ Jesus, how infinitely rich he is in grace. Because it is by grace that you have been saved, through faith; not by anything of your own, but by a gift from God; not by anything that you have done, so that nobody can claim the credit. We Review for Religious are God's work of art" (Ep 2:7-10). Paul encourages the Romans to humbly receive God's gifts: "I want to urge each one among you not to exaggerate his real impor-tance . Our gifts differ according to the grace given us" (Rm 12:3-8). As Jesus prepares to leave his disciples, he promises them: "I shall ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate to be with you forever, that Spirit of Truth. ¯ ." (Jn 14:16). Jesus' prom-ise is fulfilled at'. Pentecost: God's generous gifts are for all peoples, whatever their religious, ,ethnic, or cultural background. "They were all I ~ filled with the - Holy Spirit .The Spirit gave them the gift of speech [to] proclaim the marvels of God" (Ac 2:1-12). The early Christian community--and our church today--have been assured of God's continuous generos-ity: "You will not be without any of the gifts of the Spirit while you are waiting for our Lord Jesus Christ to be revealed" (1 Co 1:7). Paul notes that all gifts have one source: "There is a variety of gifts but always the same Spirit . All these are the work of the one and the same Spirit, who distributes different gifts to different people just as he chooses" (1 Co 12:1-12). God's generous gifts are for all peoples, whatever their religious, ethnic, or cultural background; thus, "the Holy Spirit came down on all the listeners . All were astonished that the gift of the Holy Spirit should be poured out on the pagans too" (Ac 10:44-45). Peter proclaims God's graciousness in Jaffa, saying: "I realized 67.1 2008 Kroeger * The Gift of Mission then that God was giving them the identical gift be gave to us when we believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, and who was I to stand in God's way?" (Ac 11:17). Mission originates in this profound consciousness of what the Father has graciously wrought in Christ Jesus and their Spirit, continually manifested in the church. St. Th~r~se of Lisieux expressed her awareness of God's gift when she concluded: "My vocation is Love! In the heart of the church, my Mother, I shall be Love. Thus, I shall be everything." Receiving the Gift A transformed consciousness that fully appreciates God's graciousness will receive the gift of faith with a joyful heart. One need only recall how this precious gift has been given and received. One could ask: Why of the four billion people in Asia have I been privileged to receive the gift of Christian faith? Who were God's instruments in transmitting the gift to me? What price did my parents or the missionaries have to pay so that I would have this great treasure? Who are the holy people in my life who have helped me appreciate God's gifts? Reflecting on these questions will facilitate a more per-sonal reception of God's gifts of grace. When Jesus engages the Samaritan woman at the well, he challenges her to have a deeper appreciation of the gift being offered: "If you only knew the giJ~ God is offering and who it is that is saying to you: Give me a drink, you would have been the one to ask, and he would have given you living water" (Jn 4:10). Writing to the Corinthians, Paul invites them to a more profound awareness of the gift of being a Christian; he says: "People must~ think of us as Christ's servants, stewards entrusted with the mysteries of God. Review for Religious What is expected of stewards is that each one should be found worthy of his trust . What do you have that was not given to you? And if it was given, how can you boast as though it were not?" (1 Co 4:1-2,7). Both the Samaritan woman and the Corinthian community are to appreciate that, since they have been recipients of God's gifts, they themselves are now able to be gifts to others. Precisely because one is loved, has experienced God's love, and has thus become lovable, one can reach out to others with the gift of love. This is the transformed ° - consciousness that God's gifting creates in receptive individuals. One is reminded of what the Asian bishops have said: "Without a personal experience of this love received as gift and mercy, no sense of mission can flour-ish" (FABC V). A deep reception of God's Trinitarian gifting will result in a further gift: a personal vocation to minis-try. This was the "conversion" experience of St. Paul; the Lord affirmed: "This man is my chosen instrument to bring my name before pagans and pagan kings and ¯ before the people of Israel" (Ac 9:15). Paul personally owns this gift: "I have been made the servant of that gospel by a gi~ of grace from God who gave it to me by his own power" (Ep 3:7). Paul celebrates God's choice, noting that: "God never takes back his gi)~ or revokes his choice" (Rm 11:29). Reception of God's gift is a continuous, ongoing '~ A deep reception of, -God's Trinitarian gifting will result in a further gift: a personal vocation to ministry. 67.1 2008 Kroeger ¯ The Gift of Mission process. Paul reminds his beloved Timothy (and us) to keep growing in receptiveness (appreciation, personal-ization, appropriation) of God's gift: "You have in you a spiritual gift which was given to you when the prophets spoke and the body of elders laid their hands on you; do not let it lie unused. Think hard about all this, and put it into practice" (1 Tm 4:14-15). Reciprocating God's Gift The New Testament passage that best captures this third moment of gift missiology is: "What you have received as a gift, give as a gift" (Mt 10:8). The logic is simple: if one truly appreciates a gift, one wishes to share it with others. The desire to gift others is the best and clearest manifestation of authentic gratitude. The New Testament letters of James and Peter add further insight: "Make no mistake about this, my dear brothers: every good gift, everything that is perfect, is given us from abtve; it comes down from the Father of all light" (Jm 1:16-17). "Each of you has received a special gift, so like good stewards responsible for all these different graces of God, put yourselves at the service of others . . . so that in everything God may receive the glory." (1 P 4:10-11). Pope John Paul II'S 1999 apostolic exhortation Ecclesia in Asia (EA) provides several insightful per-spectives on how the church in Asia is to "reciprocate" (return, repay) the gifts it has received. "The church's faith in Jesus is a gift received and a gift to be shared; it is the greatest gift which the church can offer to Asia" (EA § 10b). "Blessed with ~the gift of faith; the church [is to become] a community aflame with missionary zeal to make Jesus known, loved, and followed . The great Review for Religious question now facing the church in Asia is how to share with our Asian brothers and sisters what we treasure as the gift containing all gifts, namely, the Good News of Jesus Christ" (EA §19a & c). "Only if the people of God recognize the gift that is theirs in Christ will they be able to communicate that gift to others through proclamation and dialogue" (EA §3 If). The perspective of "mission as gift" contains sev-eral insights on the approach or manner of mission in Asia, which is necessarily dialogue. Christians treasure the gift of their trinitarian faith, offering it freely, even enthusiastically, to others. The gift is offered with a sincere heart, yet all evangelizers know that people are free to accept or reject the gift. The dialogue partners, such as Muslims and Buddhists, also have gifts to offer: the riches of their faith and their personal "God experi-ence." Thus, a wonderful exchange of gifts can result. All people who ha~e the gift of faith need to collaborate so that through sharing their gifts they can" enrich the poor and needy in their midst. The Asian bishops were indeed most perceptive in their reflection on a renewed motivation for mission, listing gratitude first among several possible motives. Recall what they said: "We evangelize, first of all, from a deep sense of gratitude to God. Mission is above all else an overflow of this life from grateful hearts trans-formed by the grace of God . Without a personal experience of this life received as gift and mercy, no sense of mission can flourish" (FABC V). Paul's well-worded exhortation to his co-evangelizer Timothy provides a fitting conclusion for these reflec-tions on the gift of mission (gift missiology). In Paul's words, Christifins can find a reprise Of their recognition, reception, and reciprocation of the gift Of faith. Paul writes: 67.1 2008 Kroeger ¯ The Gift of Mission "Fan into a flame the gift that God gave you when I laid my hands on you .Never be ashamed of witness-ing to the Lord . Bear hardships for the sake of the Good News . Accept the strength that comes from the grace of Christ Jesus . Proclaim the message and, welcome or unwelcome, insist on it . Do all with patience . Make the preaching of the Good News your life's work, in thoroughgoing service" (2 Tm 1:6, 8-9a; 2:1; 4:1,5). Mary Keeping Shabbat There would be nearly nine months ahead Of seventh-day worship in synagogue, Sitting with her sisters and her mother In the women's rows, opposite the minyun Of their men, her secret blossoming within her, Thrusting against the homespun of her gown. She hugged its warm folds, the warm hand Of her mother covering her own. For Jews Seeking signs to believe in, or to disbelieve, The signs were there every Shabbat - seventh- Month, eighth-month - that a daughter of righteous Parents was boldly with child, Her Joseph betrayed! Her betrayer someone here among us! Watch where She turns her eyes. But she only turns her eyes To heaven, while saying her Shabbat prayers, Singing the Shabbat psalms, a bright-haired Mary, keeping Sunday in her womb. Nancy G. Westerfield Review for Religious GODELIEVE THEYS A Dream, Ash Wednesday; and the Word In my fifty years of living in a Catholic mon-astery, an important element of my religious development has been to pay close attention to dreams. My daily life involves prayer, ritual, music, liturgy, silence, study, and work, while my nights, more than sleep, are often filled with religious imagery, prayer, and music as part of dreaming. In the Christian tradition there is a long, often neglected history of dreams pro-viding spiritual insight. John Sanford captures this in his book title: Dreams: God's Forgotten Language. Clearly much of the modern world has forgotten the significance of dreams~ as car-riers of spiritual teachings, and unfortunately, even in religious tradition, we often leave these divine messages of the night unattended. Godelieve Theys OCSO.came from Belgium in 1962 to help found her new Cistercian home at Redwoods Abbey; 18104 Briceland Road; Whitethorn, California 95589. prayer 67.1 2008 Theys ¯ A Dream, Ash Wednesday, and the Word It was in a dream that St. Joseph was warned by an angel to take the holy Child out of Israel for protection from a king who would kill the newborn King. Joseph knew the power of dreams and followed the instruction provided in the night. Where are we in our willingness to listen and follow the dream messengers? Growing older as I am, I recently recalled a dream in which I was told, "You should at least write a book to serve human-ity." This made little sense to me at the time. I did not see myself as an author, and I had no desire or inten-tion to write for others until recently. In the past year I was so deeply moved by a specific dream that I now find myself creating material that seems to want to be shared widely. Though I am not writing a book, I still hope that my experiences may help others realizer that dreams can give'insight into the mysterious reality we call the religious or the spiritual. Religion, while in gen-eral being about dogma and tradition, is also personal, being about the soul's movement towards God. Key to monastic living is to find the divine in all of life's experi-ences. Like St. Joseph, we are called to listen to angelic voices in the night, to listen to dreams as insights into religious living. Last year during Lent I had an indelible dream. For much of this year I have been trying to hear fully the message that it offers. The dream has changed me and continues to do so. The dream was this: It was Ash Wednesday. I was aware that the morning liturgy mate-rial was already typed, but that the evening material was not. I left the church and went for a morning walk outdoors, as I often do. There I saw something alive on the ground. I bent down and touched it. It was the Word for the evening liturgy, alive under my hand. I was moved to tears. It was a numinous experience. I Review for Religious wondered what to do? Should I keep this living Word with me until after lunch, protecting the Word so that it would not be destroyed or die before it was typed for the evening service, or should I return immediately to the community and get it typed right away? I was per-plexed. I awoke singing the refrain of the song "Deep Within." My words were: "Deep within I will plant my law, not on stone, but in your heart. Follow me, I will bring you back; be my own, and I will be your God." I could not recall making any decision. Besides the music, the thing that jumped out for me in the dream was the breathtaking feeling that in touching the Word I was experiencing the living pres-ence of God. In the dream ~- - - this experience of God . ¯ in the Word comes after I leave the church and take a walk amid some of nature's beauty. For me this confirms the church's i'~ life and traditional struc- ', tures and also my rela- , tion to our monastery's natural environment. Going outdoors, as in my dream image, reminds me of the evolution of consciousness itself. Awareness develops through our contact with the: outside world, through relationship with the world around us. Living in the heart of a forest, I am blessed in knowing the world as divine creation. For years I have walked daily in the beauty of our landscape to be restored. Walking and attending to nature is a way of quieting the mind and refreshing the soul. The wonder of the natural world offers my constant .mental activ-ity the opportunity to be touched by the realm of the In touching the Word I was experiencing the living presence of God. 67.1 2008 Theys ¯ A Dream, Ash Wednesday, and the Word senses. In this dream of finding the Word alive, on the ground before me, my senses seem to come fully alive and open me to the deeper experience of this religious moment. Might the Word be more available than we imagine if only we were more attuned to this possibility? Seeing with our eyes, hearing with our ears, touching with our hands---how much of life are we missing and how much spiritual potential lies undiscovered simply'because we are not aware? This dream calls me to greater attention because in it I saw the Word, alive, under my hand. I felt its pulse. It was like a little bird that could' not fly and was waiting perhaps for me to pick it up, hold it gently, quench its thirst, that it could recover its strength and fly again. It was truly an experience of the sacred to feel this life under my hand, to feel the living substance of it. In that moment there was an immediate relationship between God's Word and me. Eros, relatedness, was involved. I was deeply moved; my heart was touched to the point of tears. The Word needs to be seen, to be heard, to be spoken, to be listened to, and to be fol-lowed so that its message can get through and heal the depths of the heart. It is important to me that this Word was found, not only outdoors, but also on the ground, on the earth in front of me--not above, not in the air, not transcendent. Here a divine Word was putting itse!f right in front of me, like something that was lost. There it was, all by itself, needing my help, needing me to keep my eyes open or miss a divine manifestation. Iv am reminded of the story of the rabbi who was asked, "How is it that God doesn't speak to people as he did in the past?" The rabbi answered: "Because no one bows low enough any-more." Bowing low is a gesture of humility that we may Review for Religious lack. As modern people we seek the spiritual above and beyond, outside the world of matter, and perhaps are not humble enough to see what is right before us. But, returning to the dream, what is before me is the Word. Living in a contemplative community, I am regularly in touch with the Word of God in Scripture-- and in the Rule of St. Benedict as well. These are important for my daily life. In this tradition there is nothing more powerful than the teaching in the opening verse of St. John's Gospel: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." Before the evangelist, the prophet Isaiah told us: "The grass withers, the flower fades, but the Word of God will stand firm" (Is 40:58). And Jesus himself said: "Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away" (Mt 5:18). In reflecting upon the Word as it comes in the dream, I am reminded that there are many words--vol-umes upon volumes filled with them--and there is the Word. This dream clearly reflects the power of the Word. As Heidegger said, "language is more than little puffs of breath." Words are wellsprings of energy, giving us the power to communicate with one another, to share our thoughts, feelings, and experiences. Words bring us into relationship with the world around us and with our inner world as well. They put us in touch with our past, lead us into the future, and help us realize actual Words bring us into relationship with theWorld around Us and with, our inner world as well. 67.1 2008 Theys ¯ A Dream, Ash Wednesday, and the Word situations and attitudes in the present. They tell us what is in our mind and heart. Words both wound and heal. They are not only expressions of our conscious life, our ego identity, but also of our unconscious, as it comes through in dreams. They often have deeper meanings than what they stand for in ordinary life. They are chan-nels to our deeper and truer identity. Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, now Pope Benedict XVl, in his book Salt of the Earth reminds us that "the word revealed in history is definitive, but it is inexhaustible, and it unceasingly discloses new depths. In this sense, the Holy Spirit, as the interpreter of Christ, speaks with his word to every age and shows it that this word always has something new to say.''1 The Holy Spirit, as the interpreter of Christ, who is God's definitive Word, "always has something new to say," but are we prepared to listen? Listening to my dream, I return to Ash Wednesday and sense the meaning of Lent, a meaning that tells me that, through deeper listening and closer attention to both dreams and daily life, we might come to greater awareness of the Word as it reveals itself to us. Nonetheless, I can-not help wondering why the Word, as it comes in this dream, does not address itself direcdy to me. Why does it not communicate what it expects me to do? I do not know what choice I made about taking care of the Word I was holding. It was only when I woke hearing the song "Deep Within" that I came to sense the message of the Word in this dream, the message of "Follow me." Turning.to the Gospels, I think of Jesus saying "Follow me" in several instances. The words of the song in my dream return: "Follow me, I will bring you back; be my own, and I will be your God." The Word will bring us back, will reveal our true selves, if only we are Review for Religious willing to follow the path of Jesus, the path of becom-ing a new being, with the only true name we have: I am. To follow Jesus as the enlightened one coming out of his baptism as the Son of God, the Beloved, involves living in relationship to the Word. We must entrust ourselves to the flow of life and consciously live the seasonal changes from death to new birth. Like the day that flows into night, we are always in transformation. Nothing remains static. Laziness, not striving to be con-stantly awake, locks us into one place and we stagnate and decay. Commitment to following the Word leads into the paschal mystery, the cycle of life, death, and resurrection. We are to let go of our attachments, not only to material possessions, but also to family, profession, social group, community, even to institutional religion. Like the rich young man who asked Jesus what he must do to have life, we must let go of what we have or who we think we are. We are to sell all and follow the path that leads to greater life, and, as Thomas Merton said when he was at Red, woods in 1968, "we have to stand on our own two feet." Along the same line, Elizabeth B. Howes wrote: "To sell all., means to renounce that right to choose the specificity of one's own desire and to let oneself be molded by the Patterning of the moment. Through such conscious choice, we give back to its true owner what we have been given. It is as if our life were on loan. We either take it and run away to shape it as we will, or we turn it back to its Source in a volitional act of choice, which makes us co-creators with the process of God.''2 To follow God's law planted in our heart is to find our true identity and to know the sacredness of the liv- 67.1 2008 ing Word, as in the image of my dream. This journey of which I write is the task of our lifetimes. Notes ~ Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Salt of the Earth (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1987), p. 62. 2 E.B. Howes, Jesus' Answer to God (San Francisco: Guild for Psychological Studies Publishing House, 1984), p. 89. Longing for Easter Give us Easter, the brilliant wine of the Kingdem, the days when He might appear at any moment and we in his presence become speechless with joy, shy with wonder. Give us Easter, when we can forget (not from shame) the dark pain that went before, or see it as one sees, from the bright rooms of home, the troubled road by which one traveled back Give us Easter and spring and the words of songs we always hoped to learn Give us always Easter. Kate Martin OSC Review for Religious JOHN CARROLL FUTRELL Pedagogy of Prayer HTan persons grow only through their relation-ips to the realities that enter into their self-awareness. This is a matter of integration, of becoming more and more whole rather than more and more dis-persed. Integrated selfhood is achieved only by free commitment to a life-meaning. People actualize their personal identity by faithfully choosing all their lives to express their identity in an authentic way. ~: The total human development of persons gifted with Christian faith calls them to integrate into their growth their relationships with other persons, with themselves, with things, and especially with God. Graced confessing that Jesus is Lord is recognition that the central rela-tionship of their life is their personal relationship with God. To bring this relationship into self-awareness is to pray. I shall suggest in this article a pedagogy of prayer. I shall offer reflections on what prayer is. Then I shall make some practical remarks on how to pray. Finally John Carroll Futrell SJ has written for this journal about ten times, beginning in 1958. His address is 3601 Lindell Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63108. 67.1 2008 Futrell ¯ Pedagogy of Prayer I shall respond affirmatively to the question "Can we pray?" What Is Prayer? When we pray we meet God. Perhaps the best description of prayer is that it is a loving, personal encounter with God. C.S. Lewis remarked: "Prayer is either a sheer illusion or a personal contact between embryonic, incomplete persons (ourselves) and the utterly concrete Person." Our problem is to verify this encounter. Encounter may take many forms. Close friends can encounter each other by talking or being silent, or even when they are physically far from each other, because they are always in personal commu-nion. It takes two to make an encounter. I can reach out to you, but, unless you receive me and give yourself to me on the personal level, we can have no true encounter. When you reach out to God, God is there to receive you. This loving personal encounter is prayer. God is present, whether we "feel" that presence or not. We know this is true because God has revealed it to us. We know it because we have the gift of faith. The Holy Spirit present in us enables us to confess that Jesus is Lord. We must insist with faith on the fact of God's constant, transcendent, loving presence, even when we feel nothing but dryness. Our own coming to encounter God is the human dimension of prayer. Prayer as a human activity is mak-ing ourselves present to the presence of God within us, so that we can recognize God's presence in everyone and everything around us. Prayer requires of us the labor to get ourselves together, body, feelings, imagination, intelligence, will, desires, place, time, environment--so Review for Religious that we can truly be present to the presence of God in loving, personal encounter. Our essential praying, then, is accomplished by the will to pray even in the midst of distractions or of total dryness. If we have the sincere desire to pray, then, at the bottom of our heart, deep within us, there is a loving encounter with God, even though it is not consciously felt at the top of our head. St. Paul put it perfecdy in his Letter to the Romans: The Spirit too comes to help us in our weakness. For, when we cannot choose words in order to pray properly, the Spirit expresses our plea in a way that could never be put into words, and God, who knows everything in our hearts, knows perfectly well what the Spirit means. (Rm 8:26-28) A problem for many people attempting to verify the encounter with God which is prayer is that they begin with their own idea of good prayer, as determined by lack of distractions, no dry-ness, a continuous feeling of consolation. A false notion of prayer makes true prayer unverifiable. The problem here may be that we are seeking God for ourselves rather than for love of God. Instead of welcoming God's personal presence personally, we turn God into an 0/~ect, a thing we can acquire to fill a need. Prayer must be openness, listening, welcome. Prayer leads us from self-centered need to other-centered love. This passage from need to love is illuminated by reflection with Freud on human growth toward matu-rity as a movement from need to desire2 As infants we all begin as quivering bundles of needs. We relate to Prayer must be openness, listening, welcome. 67.1 2008 Futrell * PedagoG of Prayer all the realities that come into our awareness--espe-cially our mothers--as objects there to satisfy our needs. Need seeks self-satisfaction, the absorption of the other into myself. Freudian body imagery is revealing. Need means self-affirmation of my own bodily presence only; this annihilates all that is not myself by consuming it bodily. As long as I am operating chiefly from my need, I affirm myself only as an object, a needy body-thing, just as I affirm others only as objects to satisfy my needs. Freud shows that it is in passing from need to desire that we come to human maturity. In his terminology, when I desire another person, I affirm the reality of the other as a subject, as a free mysterious person, with inalien-able rights and always beyond adequate representation in concept or image. In desire we recognize what is not ourselves and affirm its free otherness. It is only in affirming others as persons that we realize ourselves as persons, as free subjects open to personal relationships. VChen we pass from need to desire, we can say, "It is now for the first time that I truly experience myself as a person, for it is only in your presence that I am." The poet e.e. cummings put it perfectly: "i am through you so i." When we apply this Freudian model to prayer, it is dear that in its initial stages prayer would reflect as in a mirror the emptiness of our need for God. From expe-riencing this need we shall pass gradually to the desire for God in God's infinite otherness. Even on the human level, desiring the other as unique and thus infinitely different from me is the greatest love. "I love you" becomes "You exist!" To love others is to will their pres-ence as irreducible to me. In recognizing their unique-ness, I recognize an absence in their very presence, the inalienable freedom of their otherness. Review for Religious Thus, desire--love--is not a static, finished thing. It is an ongoing living thing. Because of this fascinating and wonderful presence-in-absence, even a moment of intense personal union opens upon a new frontier, a beckoning from beyond towards deeper union. Another person remains an unfathomable secret. I cannot know this secret through thought or images or even bodily union. I can know another person only through love. In The Art of Loving (chap. 2), Erich Fromm points out: "In love, I know you, I know myself, I know every-body-- and I 'know' nothing. I know in the only way knowledge of that which is alive is possible for man--by experience of union--not by any knowledge our thought can give." The only way to full knowledge lies in the experience of love. This experience transcends thought; it transcends words. Thus, if I can have no full knowledge of God in thought, if theology is at best negative, then posi-tive knowledge of God can be achieved only in the act of union with God. In prayer we know God by lov-ing God, by welcoming God's gift to us in the loving experience of God's presence-in-absence. Prayer always remains desire, opening ever more widely toward ever fuller union, as St. Teresa of Avila and St. John of the Cr6ss powerfully attest. Ren~ Voillaume insists that we will be less satisfied with ourselves in prayer the more closely we approach God. This lack of satisfaction is a part of prayer, a proof of unfulfilled desire, which can only grow with growth of love. Far from satisfying thirst for God, prayer increases it. Pierre Teilhard de Chardin wrote: God does not offer himself to our finite beings as a thing all complete and ready to be embraced. For us he is eternal discovery and eternal growth. 67.1 2008 Futrell * Pedagogy of Prayer The more we think we understand him, the more he reveals himself as otherwise. The more we think we hold him, the further he withdraws, drawing us into the depths of himself. The nearer we approach him through all the efforts of nature and grace, the more he increases, in one and the same movement, his attraction over our powers, and the receptivity of our powers to that divine attraction. (The Divine Milieu, pp. 119-120) As St. Thomas Aquinas put it, "by prayer we render ourselves capable of receiving." St. Gregory of Nyssa pointed out that the more we make progress, the more we discover that God infinitely transcends all that we can ever know of God. "To find God is to seek God without end." Thomas Merton noted that "progress in prayer is a continual burning of bridges behind us." Prayer, then, is faith, openness, listening, welcome, surrender. It is not through speculation or through study of theories of prayer and of love that we learn to pray and to love God, but only through the exercise of prayer and of love. We must sweep away all preconcep-tions and simply listen to God. Jesus told us in a parable what our attitude should be when we pray. We should be the good soil that nurtures the seed planted in it by the Divine Sower, accepting the word with faith. Just as we find Christ in the Eucharist under the appear-ances, so we must seek the reality of encounter with God under the words and gestures of our prayer. The soil where the word is sown is the heart, the center of our person. If we do not receive God here, our prayer is marked by boredom and routine and falsehood. We must be present to our own heart, where God is seek-ing us in spirit and in truth. All of our authentic prayer begins in our heart, in the activity of the Holy Spirit in our hearts.2 Review for Religious We have nearly two thousand years of reflection on the experience of Christian praying. The great masters of prayer always have seen as true prayer the "interior understanding and relish" that is born of the Holy Spirit's illumination of our spirit. This prayer may be very dry. Our prayer may often be quite simple: just a period of repeating the same thing to God over and over until it becomes part of us. Prayer can be a tor-ment until we are transformed into what we are say-ing. Christians who really pray have always known that "by their fruits you shall know them." The criterion of good prayer is not sensible consolation, but whether we continually live a more loving life by the power we receive even in very arid prayer. When we seem lost in our own confusion, distracted, and hardly present to God except in a prayerful word or two, there still may be in us, through the Holy Spirit's presence, a desire that we eventually experience as power, strength to serve God and our neighbor with our whole being, no matter what the cost. Thomas Merton's teaching on prayer emphasizes that the Holy Spirit is .seeking us in our hearts, where we come to ourselves. It is difficult to enter into the silence of our hearts, the place where no one else can enter, where we must put off our masks and no longer hide.3 This is where God calls us: "Give me your heart, your very self." Here we allow God to judge us, God who invites us to a full life. Here we learn to be at home We have nearly two thousand years of reflection on the experience of Christian praying. 67.1 2008 Futrell ¯ Pedagogy of Prayer with God, beyond our emotions and our intellectual life. We learn to overcome our fear of what is there and our temptation to go back to what is familiar. God is at home where we are truly ourselves. Merton put it, "Prayer does not consist in an effort to get across to God, but in opening our eyes to see that we are already there." The good that we seek through prayer is not the self-satisfaction of a "successful" prayer according to our own idea, but the formation of an attitude of total surrender to God in every detail of our daily life. This good God gives, through the more or less active coop-eration of our effort to pray. This is the pearl of great God is always calling us, speaking to us in all the events of our daily lives. price always to be sought in prayer. It is this which transforms us in Christ and prepares us always to say yes to the Word of God calling us at every moment of our lives. Brother David wrote, "Only life lived to the full measures up to the task of contemplation" (Gratefulness, p. 64). A life of ongoing prayer will draw us deeper and deeper into the presence of God, until we shall experience it in situations that do not immediately suggest God's presence. Then we are praying always, even though our conscious attention is elsewhere. This is what the masters of prayer mean by finding God in all things. God is always calling us, speaking to us in all the events of our daily lives. God comes to us in every situation we face: in our work, in our play, in the people we meet, in all our duties. All of these serve as invitations to welcome God here and Review for Religious now, to let God challenge us to live our Christian life perfectly. If we understand prayer this way, there are never places where prayer is impossible. Perhaps we need to change our way of understanding prayer. Louis Evely has said, "We're not asked to choose between God and world, but to discover God in the world and reveal God to it." It has been well said that there are no part-time human beings or part-time Christians Or part-time con-templatives. When we confess that Jesus is Lord, no sin-gle moment of our lives is outside this relationship.4 We can live prayer at all times, whether formally praying or not. What are we really seeking at all times during our life? What is our basic operational orienta-tion? What is our heart's treasure? This may be other people, egoism, money, pleasure, popular success, or it may be God. Whatever it is, it pervades all our actions, rules our individual choices and our spontaneous actions and reactions, constructs our world, without our being conscious of it all the time. If my basic existential ori-entation is to God, I am praying always, always having a loving personal encounter with God. Thomas Merton summed it up perfectly: "If I find God I will find myself, and if I find my true self I will find God. And the only one who can teach me to find God is God's self. So pray for your own discovery." How to Pray Since prayer is a loving personal encounter with our forever faithful God, our human effort during any period of our life must always be to make ourselves present to God: to enter into our own faith experience of the Spirit of the risen Jesus at the bottom of our heart, where God touches our life. This is the meaning 67.1 2008 Fuvrell ¯ Pedagog~ of Prayer of all human prayer, whatever the method or style. The criterion for judging which method or style to use is simple: "Does it work?" Does this method at this time bring us into God's presence? Is it enabling us to live a life of love for God, other people, and myself?. A particular method of prayer may meet this crite-rion for years. But normally there will be times when a method is no longer right for us. Then we must experi-ment with various methods. We must be open to all pos-sibilities: God can use anything as a way to encounter us. Our part is to discover a way of finding God now. It may be a hope-filled darkness in which we wait willingly for subde energies of faith and love to return. The best prayer for me now may be meditation on the revealed truths of faith. People sometimes reject this method as "talking to myself." Well, why not talk to ourselves if God, who can make use of anything, is there and listening attentively? At times the best prayer may be lectio divina: slow thoughtful reading of Scripture or of other spiritual writings, stopping sometimes where we experience some heartfelt understanding. God works with us incarnationally, and so the method of prayer that works usually fits our temperament and cultural climate. Some older persons may be drawn to slow recitation of the rosary or to reading set prayers reflectively. The method for other persons_ may be singing or playing a guitar or adopting various body positions. The criterion always is "What works?" The great contemporary master of prayer Brother David Steindl-Rast OSB proposes two excellent ques-tions for evaluating our current method of prayer: (1) Is my prayer truly an expression of my prayerfulness, gratefulness, sorrow, compassion, and so forth? and (2) Does my prayer make me more prayerful? Review for Religious Two millennia of Christian experience show that it is fairly normal for people to be led gradually from more active methods of prayer to quieter, more passive methods. The way of praying may become simply enter-ing into a deeply felt attitude and resting in it: being thanks, being open, being praise, being begging when we feel our radical poverty deeply. In this prayer, when we become aware of our mind or imagination running off in various directions, we simply let those distractions fall as we keep coming back to our deep attitude of being. The Psalms fit this form of prayer because they express deeply felt attitudes, often in just a line or half line. Just a few verses of a psalm may help for days or even weeks. For persons who are feeling far from God and overwhelmed with cares and anxieties, the first few lines of Psalm 40 can be of great help: I waited patiently for the LORD; he inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the desolate pit, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Stop at words or phrases. Let them sink in, and let your own thoughts rise. Stay there until you feel that the Holy Spirit is leading you to the next word or phrase. Another important form of. prayer to learn, consider-ing our tendency to rush on, is repetition: coming back to interior movements we experienced during previous periods of prayer and letting the Spirit deepen these movements and draw us closer to God and away from what holds us back. There are times when we should simply "plough the rock until it bear." 41 67.1 2008 Futrell * Pedagogy of Prayer In Christian prayer there is no method more central than contemplation of t, he life of Jesus in the Gospels. In Christian prayer there is no method more central than contemplation of the life of Jesus in the Gospels. This contemplation can take many forms and range from fairly discursive reflection to simple presence to Jesus in a scene. The proof that our method of contem-plation of Jesus is right for us right now is the experi-ence of being more and more transformed into him in our daily living with and love of other people. We must be ready to recognize when the prayer to which God calls us now is simply to enter into the void and wait in darkness for God. We realize that for us at present God is nowhere else than in this purifying empti-ness. A Jesuit friend of mine once told me that the only way he had been able to pray for weeks was to stand holding his arms up in supplica-tion. There were no thoughts, no images, not even a deeply felt attitude-- nothing. Yet he knew that this body prayer of emptiness was what God wanted of him then, beyond any thought or feelings. Even in desolation we are called to pray by "remembering consolation." W-hen darkness overcomes us, our prayer must be a faith that remembers what we saw, felt, hoped, and loved when we were filled with light. It can be helpful to think about prayer as a place. Sometimes it is a garden, beautiful, full of flowers, sweet scents, and birds singing and fountains play-ing. Sometimes it is a mountaintop, where we would Review for Religious like to pitch a tent and stay. Sometimes it is a desert. Sometimes it is a "blah" place, where all we can say is "God, here I am in my blahness." Sometimes it is a rock that we cling to with bloodied hands. And sometimes it is an empty tomb. For me, sometimes, it is a boat, when I feel as exhausted as Jesus was when his disciples woke him to calm the storm. Then all I can say, before falling asleep, is "Jesus, I'm with you!" A friend of mine, a sister, returning very blue and worn from a day of apostolic work, composed a beauti-ful prayer out of this feeling of prayer as a place: Dear God, tonight I'm tired and discouraged. I want to just give up and walk away. I'm in the basement and I want to go to the attic. In the basement, I'm lonely. In the attic, I'm alone, all one. In the basement, I crouch in the dark damp coal bin and dig up bones from the past. In the attic, I quiedy open the trunk lid and think about the treasures of the past - some painful, some joyful - but treasures nonetheless. Rain in the basement beats me to the cold hard concrete and I feel suffocated. Rain in the attic has a restful pitter-patter, pitter-patter, as it softly sings, "I love you, I love you, I love you." In the basement, I'm closed off. The windows are darkened and covered with weeds. I cannot see the sun when it does shine forth. In the attic, there is no way to keep out the warm sun of your love as it shines through the leaves on the trees. It makes delightful patterns for my enjoyment. And so, dear God, I ask you to take me from the basement to the attic. I ask for aloneness, I ask for treasures, I ask for soft soothing rain 67.1 2008 Futrell ¯ Pedagogy of Prayer and warm loving sunshine. I ask to feel your love. I do believe., help my lack of belief. Prayer Flows out of Life Situations Whatever method of prayer we use, as body-per-sons in space and time, we must seek to compose our-selves interiorly and, if possible, to choose a place that will help us to be present to the presence of God. We know that our body conditions the state of our con-sciousness. And so it is vital to take the time, perhaps a long time, to compose ourselves before praying: to enter into a deep silence of the body and imagination and feelings. Methods like the Additional Observations in the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola (§§73-86) or the preparations in the old meditation books or yoga or transcendental meditation or Zen or Sadhana can be helpful. The great 19th-century master of prayer Theophane the Recluse described prayer truly as "stand-ing before God with the mind in.the heart." If we are to pray, we must commit ourselves to make time for it: time to calm ourselves down, time to allow God to rise up in our awareness, to become God for us. We must discern the rhythm of prayer that we need at this time in our lives, and we must be faithful to it even when we do not feel like praying. We know that our most essential duties are not always those that we feel like doing. Nevertheless, we do fulfill them because of the importance they have for us, their priority in our lives. The operational proof of what our priorities are is the quality time that we give to them, not what we may verbally affirm about their importance. Time is the most precious possession of human beings, and what we do Review for Religious with our time is the behavioral proof of what we value in our lives. If we really put a high priority on prayer, we regularly give quality time to it. As in human love, there can and should be steadfastness even when we feel dull and lack spontaneity. And, of course, both love and prayer seek imaginative ways to transform routine and revivify themselves. Can We Pray? If we exercise our faith and our creativity and our common sense, we can pray. We can bring ourselves and take time and wait to encounter God. We can look to see whether our hearts have left space for God to come and meet us. For two thousand years the purpose of Christian asceticism has been to make space in our hearts for God to encounter us there. The difficulty of prayer is that it is the entrance into the bottom of our hearts. It places us before the wall of grace and the invisible. This involves going out of our selfish self, which makes prayer so diffi-cult. It is a true purgatory--a purification. This difficulty is overcome only by the Holy Spirit. To consent to pray is to consent to place ourselves before this wall and to wait with faith and hope for God to lower the wall. The lowering of the wall is the progressive coming of God to our deep self. Here only God can overcome. To believe that we have solved the problem ourselves is to show that we have lost the batde. Here, truly, we gain our life only by losing it. Our prayer should lead us to the still point of our being, the root of our existence, the center of our awareness of our unique individuality, where we are touched by the divine creative act and where, in silence and in darkness, we understand that God is God. At this point of our dependence upon God, we find God 67.1 2008 Futrell ¯ Pedagogy of Prayer in a presence that is absence, in an emptiness that is filled with God, in the knowing that is not knowledge but love. This, I think, is the command of God to the psalmist: "Empty yourself out and see that I am God." Descend to the depths of your own being, to the very point where you spring up out of my creative love, and there you will find me. Here God's presence is felt as breaking in on us, breaking down the wall of selfish self-love that limits our encounter with God. We see that this same wall keeps us from truly loving others as Jesus commands us to do, and that it keeps us from hearing and respond-ing to God's word in all the events of our lives. In this prayer we become filled with the light of the Spirit of the risen Jesus, who will illuminate all our experiences and will bring us at last to find God in all things. Often in this prayer we encounter God in his breaking in on us, and we feel no need or inclination to speak, because everything is understood in love. We simply surrender to God in his transforming action on us. But this is not a prayer of inaction. At no time do we feel more fully alive. For some people this is the habitual form of prayer. For others it happens only rarely. In all our prayer we should be listening to God, ready to welcome him, as God sometimes welcomes us, in a moment of great clarity or great joy.5 Notes i For this insight I am indebted to Jesuit psychoanalyst Dr. Denis Vasse, of Lyons, France. 2 "To cqntemplate means raising our eyes to a higher order that challenges us to measure up . Only the heart is high and deep enough to hold this vision." Brother David Steindl-Rast OSB, Gratefulness, the Heart of Prayer (New York: Paulist Press, 1984), p. 64. 3 "The heart in biblical culture, and also in a large part of other cul- Review for Religious tures, is that essential center of personality in which the person stands before God, as the totality of body and soul, as T who is thinking, will-ing, and loving, as the center in which the memory of the past opens up to planning of the future . The significance [of] the heart., reaches the sanctuary of personal self-awareness in which is summarized and condensed the concrete essence of the person, the center in which the individual decides upon himself, in face of others, the world, and God himself." John Paul II, Audience at the Gemelli Clinic, 28 June 1984. 4 "Work should not make us stop praying. But when my work becomes my only prayer, it won't be prayer much longer. Its weight will pull me off center. We can hear it quickly when a clothes dryer spins unevenly. Why can't we hear it when our lives do the same? It may be time to stop and reload. It may be time for nothing but prayer, time to disengage ourselves, to find our center, and to re-engage ourselves from the heart. Then our work will truly be prayer, It will be contemplation in action." Steindl-Rast, Gratefulness, p. 195. 5 Listen to C.S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces, near the end (p. 307): "He is coming . The air was growing brighter and brighter., as if something had set it on fire. Each breath I drew let into me new terror, joy, overpowering sweetness. I was pierced through and through with the arrows of it. I was being unmade. I was no one . The earth and stars and sun, all that was or will be, existed for his sake. And he was coming. The most dreadful, the most beautiful, the only dread and beauty there is, was coming . I cast down my eyes." Personal/Group Reflection Questions 1. Have I had the experience of trying to teach someone to pray? What did I find to be helpful in teaching someone to pray? What obstacles did I experience? 2. What is my favorite way of defining or describing Christian prayer? 3. How do I respond to Brother David Steindl-Rast's question, "Does my prayer make me more prayerful?" 67.1 2008 BRENDAN KNEALE Pray Passionately of we look at Roman liturgical practice as a form f prayer, it does not seem to encourage pray-ing passionately. Of course, there is a good reason for this--the litur~.¢ is a public, not a private, form of prayer. It expects us to bring to its formalities and rituals a preparation of intense personal prayer. Some devout Catholics, perhaps, find rich emotional con-tent in Gregorian chant if they bring to it a suitable background. Also, the Roman Liturgy does include an extensive use of the Psalms, which are full of passion-ate prayers that any of us can find to be deeply mov-ing. Consider such passages as these used in the official Liturgy of the Hours: Cry out with joy to the Lord, all the earth . . . For you my soul is thirsting--my body pines for you . . . My soul shall be filled as with a banquet., my soul clings to you . . . Brendan Kneale FSC, a retired professor from Saint Mary's College of California, is now on the staff of De La Salle Institute; 4403 Redwood Road; Napa, California 94558. His email address is bkneale@dlsi.org Review for Religious Let the faithful rejoice in their glory, shout for joy., let them praise his name with dancing. Tremble, 0 earth, before the Lord . I bow down before your temple, filled with awe. The Lord's voice flashes flames of fire. He sends fire and brimstone on the wicked. No one can escape his hand. Praise him with full voice . Ring out your joy to the Lord. There are dozens of passages like these. The Liturgy cites, also, some of the strong language of St. Paul, who certainly expressed himself with passion. We have intimations of how emotional and intense Christ's own prayer was, notably in the garden and on the cross, culminating in: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Likewise, when he declared that he came to "cast fire on the earth." He no doubt was reflecting the strong feelings of his previous prayer. At Pentecost the Holy Spirit communicated himself with the symbolic "sound of wind and tongues of fire." This ought to stir our emotion, as when we sometimes refer to "fire in the belly." It did so, surely, for canonized saints, many of them known for the intensity of their prayer life. Here, however, it seems fair to ask, "Where is the passion in the wording of the Our Father, the arche-typal prayer Christ left us?" Answer: It is certainly there for people who have no "daily bread," and for those of us acutely aware of our need for a. ~'supersubstantial bread." Similarly, if we are full of-faith and devout sen-sibilities, we will experience a yearning, in the words of the Our Father, for "forgiveness of sins" and a fear of being "led into temptation," and for a strong desire to be "delivered from evil." The same goes for other seem-ingly bland prayers of our tradition. If we but bring our 67.1 2008 Kneale ¯ Pray Passionately true situation to such prayers, they will become quite passionate. In older terminology, it is with "fervor" that we should pray. Later Traditions Many modern religious orders have a community spirituality which translates into language that seems at best to be sentimental rather than passionate. An example can be found in English translations of 17th-century texts on prayer. When one of its masters, St. John Baptist de la Salle, wrote "The Method of Mental Prayer," his language in translation was made to sound pallid. Thus, in English versions, we find him frequently urging us to pray with "sentiments of faith." It does not seem adequate to translate the French sentiment into a mild, neutral, and comfortable English word like "senti-ment." In fact, bilingual dictionaries would have allowed translators to use much stronger alternatives. The question arises: How does one bring passion to prayer? Soldiers in any kind of combat do not have to ask that question. Neither do we--if we let ourselves realize how abruptly death may come for us, if we really think about the greatness and goodness of God, if we realize our guilt, if we are at all sensitive to our inner longings, if our mortality weighs down on us as it should, if we are sensitive to our capacity for the infinite, if we admit a yearning for communion with the saints, if we feel deeply the needs of those for whom we pray, if we are persons of genuine loyalty, if we are aware of our past ingratitude and our utter vulnerability. In other words, as the masters of prayer have always taught, we must prepare for our prayer by realizing how desperate our condition and situation is, how great and good God is, how important prayer is, how linked we Review for Religious are to our fellow human beings. Many such deep con-victions are acts of faith and stem from insights aris-ing- out- of experience, meditation, and study--and, of course, from grace. "The Holy Spirit prays in us." We become a version of "deep calling on deep." After the effect of "cool" literature on prayer, one suspects that the rise of devotion to the Sacred Heart and other devo-tions helped compensate for prayer's lack of warmth, and even coldness, in this world of ours. It is evident that passion invigorates prayer, but also the converse holds. Prayer can stir spiritual pas-sion, which then often takes the form of zeal for various charitable works and also for personal discipline. Unfortunately, sen-timent and shallow many of us, since genuine emotion depends on deep convictions and full realizations about serious things. Where do deep feeling, passion, and genuine love come from? The source is true faith, real conviction, theological insights, realizations stemming from deep meditation--that is, things deep in the mind. There is always, however, a danger of self-deception and of artifi-cially stirred-up shallow feelings, ephemeral sentiments. St. La Salle, mentioned earlier, was a man of feeling. He lived in times when emotions were intense over serious internal church struggles. And he had his own battles with civil authorities and with incomprehension by his contemporaries, clerical and lay, so that his own prayer was challenged at a deeper level than most of us and thus felt more keenly. Where do deep feeling, passion, and genuine love come from? feelings may have to suffice for 67.1 2008 Kneale ¯ Pra~ Pa~ionatel~ Where, for us, do the occasion and quality for pas-sionate prayer come from? They arise from experi-ences eliciting fear, gratitude, desperation . . . feelings which call forth our faith and convictions. At the start of our interior prayer, we often include an introduc-tory exercise: making our situation "real," recalling viv-idly, stirring our faith and hope, gratitude and humility, awakening ourselves from somnolence. Frequently Repeated Prayers Prayers that are frequently repeated should not be perfunctory, but should be recited "once more with feel-ing." There is a danger that prayers like the rosary could plunge us into mindless rote. That is where the ancient admonitions about study and reading can be applied. Prayers like the ~'osary will be infused with emotion if we bring to them a rich background of gospel meditation and theological study. Thus in the rosary such insights may prepare as many as ten ideas or rousing images to accompany our recitation of the ten beads in each decade. Every one of us can become a "vas insigne devotionis," rich in insights that stir our emotions and direct our will. The rosary, then, can be prayed passionately. Of course, to recite vocal prayers poorly is often an act of faith and so has value. St. Thomas Aquinas is supposed to have written somewhere that one differ-ence between rote vocal prayers of petition and atten-tive and involving prayers of petition is not that one is answered and the other is not--rather, if both are prayed with faith and goodwill, one is more consoling than the other. That is one difference. There are oth-ers. A prayer that is passionate is likely to be extended, sincere, satisfying, richer in intention, fortifying of our faith and hope., instead of a routine burden. Review for Religious Dryness There is no such thing in this life as a perpetual emotional high. One experience that the saints have often undergone is spiritual dryness. Sometimes, it seems, such periods are imposed by God as trials, but could it be that sometimes they are self-imposed by our own neglect? If we fail to use the sources of inspiration and energy--such as attention, study, sensitivity, insight, consistency, solitude, detachment--then we can expect aridity. The Language of Prayer Perhaps, looking back at the word "sentiment" and recalling the passionate words of the Psalms, we can say that the language used in prayer is important. Paying attention to the stirring words of the Psalms can bring life back into our prayer. Depending on the occasion, .however, vocalized prayer should vary appropriately: ritualistic or hiero-phantic, informal or personal, intense or calm and reflective, importunate or resigned--adoring, grateful, repetitive, vivid, meditative. We do not want to over-dramatize our lives, but one suspects that prayers of petition, at least, do need heartfelt words--the more passionate the better. In any case we have the promise of St. Paul in Romans 8: "When we cannot choose words in order to pray properly, the Spirit himself expresses our plea in a way that could never be put into words ¯ . . the pleas of the saints expressed by the Spirit are according to the mind of God." 67.1 2008 CLIFFORD STEVENS The Institute of Impracticalities: The Financial Support of Monasteries consecrated life G.K. Chesterton, before he created the Father Brown detective stories, tried his hand at the genre by writing a clever story called "The Club of Queer Trades," a tale of a fraternity of tradesmen who had managed to come up with unusual ways to make a living. In it a man makes his living giving excitement to people who lacked excitement in their lives and adven-ture to those who lacked adventure. He would send them sinister and intriguing messages, or leave strange objects on their doorstep, or send them secret packages, all designed to add some spice to an otherwise humdrum existence. I thought at one time if I had not become a priest I would set up a place called Chesterton Square with a number of odd shops and busi-nesses doing business there: a Bottle Shop, a Kite Unlimited Emporium, and imposingly on Clifford Stevens has written for us at intervals since 1975. His addres~ is Tintern Monastery; EO. Box 910; Kemmerer, Wyoming 83101. Review for Religious one corner of the square an Institute of Impracticalities, which would answer any need that was totally and clearly not practical, such as ordering an elephant for a wedding, or sending a truckload of balloons to a sick child. A monastery is and must be, if it is to be true to its character, a true Institute of Impracticalities. We exist for no "practical" purpose; we are useless, as far as most people are concerned, and there is nothing "practical" that we can mention as our particular achievement. We have to cultivate "unpracticality" almost with genius, or else that particular disease, fatal in some cases, called "practicality" takes over and everything is sacrificed on the altar of "practicality." This has been the bane of monasteries from time immemorial and has been responsible for the eclipse of the monastic life sev-eral times in history. I am thinking particularly of the monastery of Fountains in England, where "practicality" drove peasants off the land, made the monastery some-thing of an economic empire, built sumptuous build-ings, and got the monastery involved in the dynastic and ecclesiastical power struggles of the time. The greatest illusion in the contemplative life is the conviction that the financial support of the monastery is the key problem and the critical concern of community life. This has never been. true. The critical factor in con-templative life is the cultivation of intimacy with God and the fashioning of a pattern of life to enable every single member to do exactly that. As soon as the mere support of the monastery becomes the primary con-cern, "practicality" takes over and Divine Providence goes right out the windows. God blesses the monastery only to the extent that it is an oasis for leisure with God. Then blessings for the support of the life come 67.1 2008 Stevens ¯ The Institute of lmpracticalities in abundance, mysteriously, magnanimously, for God takes care of his genuine lovers, and they are never in want--for anything. The basic principle for the financial support of a monastery is this: Will the God for whom we have forsaken the world of business and commerce and the piling up of even legitimate wealth be any less gener-ous with us than the stock market and margin of profit would have been if we had devoted our lives to that? There is one answer: God will not only second our efforts by the action of his prov-idence; he will anticipate our needs. Those who doubt this usually are willing to sacrifice something of solitude, something of silence, something of contemplative tranquillity, and something of intimacy with God for so-called "practical" reasons. God usually gives them what they want, but that is all. The deeper gift for which they have forsaken all is denied them, for the simple reason that they have lost the hunger for it. A strange kind of practicality. The ancient monks made it clear that the treasurer of the monastery was the Providence of God. This does not mean that they did not work or made no provision for the morrow. It just means that they were not depen-dent upon their own efforts: even their own efforts had to be blessed by God. They simply did .not depend on bank accounts or huge commercial enterprises to sup-port their monastic life. God's providence, and their own efforts under that providence, were their only security. This is certainly "impractical" as far as the normal business of human life is concerned, but the monk is not in the normal business of living. He has made God his companion and his passion, and, while he works hard Review for Relig4ous to support his monastic life, he is not dependent upon the "economy." Monks work hard, but simply are not concerned about where their money will come from. It comes, when it is needed, from their own labor or from the action of Providence. As a matter of fact, the monk has become a monk to be free from those kinds of concerns, and, if he wants to get involved in them, God usually lets him have his way, but the intimacy with God that is - the heart of his existence and his chief preoccupation slips from his fingers. His hope and expectation are not really in God, but in the margin of profit, in the interest on stocks and bonds, or in the sale of the next crop. The treasury of Divine Providence never runs out, and God richly supplies his lovers with everything. Those who doubt that have all kinds of arguments to the con-trary, but what they do not have is that closeness to him for which they became monks in the first place. In this day of huge commercial enterprises, financial scandals in religion, and the juggling of stock portfolios and investment opportunities, we have to steer clear of anything that resembles the placing of our security in money. Every monastery needs money, and the financial support of the monastery has to be provided for. But the financial support of a monastery comes from God and his providence and not from the juggling of investments and the margin of profit. When a monastery truly needs money, it comes in bundles, from the most unexpected Monks work hard, but simply are not concerned about where their moneywill come from. 67.1 2008 Stevens ¯ The Institute of lmpracticalities places, and there is no need to buy mailing lists and carry on massive mail solicitations to accomplish this. If there is any choice between depending on a fat bank account and depending on Divine Providence, there is no doubt where the choice would have to be. Certainly not in the bank account, which can fail for all kinds of reasons, but Divine Providence never fails. We have only to look around us to see the disas-ters that occur from an opposite conviction. The clas-sical image is that of the wheeling-and-dealing Father Urban in J.E Powers's Morte d'Urban, who is convinced that hobnobbing with the rich and mighty is the sur-est way to. ensure the prosperity of his congregation. Or the tragic monsignor in John Gregory Dunne's True Confessions who found himself embroiled in scandals and political intrigues unworthy of his office because of his concern about money for the "good of the church." As Paul Evdokimov hasindicated, certain biblical truths get lost in centuries of overgrowth, and from time to time we have to be recalled to the startling dyna-mism of the gospel. It is no visionary enthusiasm that brings religious to their utter dependence upon Divine Providence and reminds them of God's loving care. But they forget that, as redeemed human beings, they are enfolded in his love, and that his benevolence is the very basis of their creation. What they need to recall is a profound metaphysical and theological truth: everything in human life is part of the philanthropy of God, and it is by the exercise of that philanthropy that the inacces-sible God makes himself accessible to our experience. From the generosity of the Godhead comes every gift with which we are endowed and every benefit of our human condition. That includes the margin of profit and whatever benefit we gain from economic prosperity. Review for Religious Even those who do not depend upon Divine Providence are dependent upon it. It is simply human shortsighted-ness that does not see the beneficent God behind the human drama. The wisdom of the saints ends up being the most practical of impracticalities. Some Texts "In building, we need not act as people in the world do. They first get the money and then begin to build, but we must do iust the opposite. We will begin to build and then expect to receive what is necessary. The Lord God will not be outdone in generosity." -- St. Alphonsus Liguori "The more you abandon to God the care of tem-poral things, the more he will take care to provide for all your needs; but if, on the contrary, you try to supply all your own needs, Providence will allow you to con-tinue to do just that, and then it may well hhppen that even the necessities will be lacking, God thus reproving you for want of faith and reliance on him." -- St. John Baptist de La Salle "Now is God not able to send, perhaps tomorrow, sacks of money to my door?" -- St. Camillus de Lellis And see Paul Evdokimov, The Sacrament of Love (Crestwood, N.Y.: St. Vladimir Seminary Press, 1985). 67.1 2008 M. REGINA VAN DEN BERG Enclosure and Other Ways to Widen One's Horizons Tfte practice and rule of enclosure in the convent is en misunderstood, by those who oppose it and those who defend it. It is misunderstood as a way of keeping the world and its evils out, of limiting contact with the world. Enclosure actually succeeds in doing quite the opposite: it enlarges the world. Rather than keeping the world out, it confronts us with it. Rather than keeping evil out, it forces us to face it. Rather than limiting our world, it expands our horizons. It is not only enclosure that expands our horizons: other prac-tices of the religious life do so too. The other practices include common meals, prayers, and recreation, limited use of television, internet, telephone, and email, and also limited travels and visitors as well. The reader may think I am playing with words, for it seems paradoxical at best that all the above-men- M. Regina van den Berg FSGM taught philosophy at Seminary Rolduc in Roermond, the Netherlands. She recently moved to Mater Ecclesiae Convent; 4510 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. Review for Religious tioned practices serve to widen our horizons. It is" not my intention, however, to play with words, but rather to point out a common mistaken notion that "experiencing the world" and "widening one's horizons" are incom-patible with enclosure and other such practices. In his essay "On Certain Modern Writers and the Institution of the Family," in Heretics, G.K. Chesterton makes the essential distinctions upon which I base this article.1 Chesterton uses the distinction to defend the institu-tion of the family; I apply it to the religious life. When people say that they want to "experience the world" or "widen their horizons," they commonly mean that they want to increase their knowledge of the world and the things in it. They want to do this by learning or by experiencing, virtually or firsthand. It is nearly super-fluous to point out that modern technology enables us to learn and experience all manner of things with the greatest ease and speed. We can experience the world in so many ways: by traveling, by looking at internet sites, by watching television, by communicating via the internet with people we have never met face-to-face, by joining clubs. It is obvious that enclosure and the other religious-life practices I mentioned allow at best a limited experience of the world in this sense. These various experiences of the world, however, have some common elements. For one, the knowledge we gain and the experiences we have often do not affect us as persons. They do not make demands on us as per-sons. We, after all, select the experience we want to have: the persons we want to be with, the places we want to go. We choose people who are agreeable to us, and when we travel we want to relax, not be challenged. Perhaps we look on the internet or watch television to learn, but often just to be entertained. However inter- 67.1 2008 van den Berg, * Enclosure and Other Ways to Widen One's Horizons However interesting the people we meet on journeys or through the internet, they may ieave our inner world untouchedl esting the people we meet on journeys or through the internet, they may leave our inner world untouched. They do not make us grow in Christian self-knowl-edge. When people truly want a life-changing event, Chesterton says, they could effect "a much more roman-tic and even melo-dramatic change if [they] jumped over the wall into the neighbor's garden. The con-sequences would be bracing.''2 We go on vacations or browse the inter-net because we Want a "change," because we want to escape from the everyday, but escapes may blind us to the here and now. The internet provides a fine example. How easily we become so immersed in it that we lose all sense of time, of the people around us, of duties awaiting us. Analogies limp, but this experience is like taking a photograph. To get as much as possible in the picture, we not only use a wide-angle lens, but we also back up. We become observers. Everything becomes small, and details disappear. There is a lot in thepicture, but we see very little. We do the same when we try to know and experience endlessly new things. Enclosure and the other religious-life practices zoom in, so to speak, on a select portion of the world. This new focus enables us to look more closely at the objects in the picture. We do not step back as observers to take the picture, but we get a vivid three-dimensional picture of a select part of the world by being a part of it ourselves. In a Review for Religious limited environment we begin to see in a different way. Confronted by the reality of the here and now, we begin to see details. We notice more of what is there to be seen. With enclosure and the other religious practices, we find ourselves in a special environment with companions we did not choose. They become real sisters of mine, and I cannot merely observe or ignore them; I must live with them. They are not all like me, even if we share a common vision. Some are of a different temperament than I am; I am irritated by some of their peculiarities. Enclosure makes me live with them, and in learning to love them I am enlarging my world. Once we are at home in our limited environment, the reality that is present to us, it encourages us to notice many details: the sunshine on my face as I sit here, the spider crawling up the wall, the sister next door coughing. Then we can respond to the details: to be grateful for the sunshine, to marvel at the spider, to see if my coughing sister may need something. The present reveals itself as fascinating once we see it from up close. Enclosure does not keep the evil things of the world out. Quite the contrary: in the wideness of the enclo-sure, evil has plenty of room to raise its head. I suspect I am not the only one who thought that my congrega-tion should be grateful that I was deigning to enter the community. Being so used to the company of people of like character and inclination, I had no idea that I could be anything but kind--until I was confronted with sisters who were quite unlike me. Then I began to become humbly grateful that the congregation accepted even someone like me. Those who think that enclo-sure somehow forms and preserves a comfortable space 67.1 2008 van den Berg ¯ Enclosure and Other Ways to W'uten One's Horizons where like-minded people can indulge their whim for a lifetime of silence have never lived in a religious com-munity. Enclosure is demanding. Enclosure has no intention of satisfying selfish desires for privacy, for a place where we can escape from the world. It is rather the case that we impose enclosure upon ourselves because we know our human weakness. Knowing that we sometimes would like to escape from the demands of the enclosed world, we bind ourselves to it as self-protection for our weak moments. There is a sense, of course, in which enclosure creates a certain "place apart," but not in the sense of privacy. Privacy in the sense of "my space" would not be compatible with the vows and total surrender of religious life. But the silent place apart is intended to widen horizons, to attune us to the reality of God's presence. As an aid to communion with him, enclosure widens our horizons beyond our imagining--into the wideness of his eternal being! If readers have agreed with everything so far, they may still maintain that enclosure, even if it opens the door to the world, still seems a terribly boring enter-prise. Imagine a life without travel, without television, without internet, without a change of companions. Is this not a recipe for boredom? At least, the reader may surmise, the apostolic religious still have the excitement of the apostolate, the possibility of being transferred, but the contemplative nuns must even forgo that. Add to enclosure the regular routine of the religious life, and the recipe for a dull life seems foolproof. But here, too, Chesterton makes an excellent point. People travel far and wide in search of adventure, but when they do so they by definition fail. They fail because "adventure" refers to something that happens to us (peradventure, Review for Religious by chance), not to something that we attain or that we can find. When we plan a vacation, we know what to expect and plan it often to the smallest detail. But in everyday life in enclosure, one never knows what to expect--here is adventure! And, to quote Chesterton once more, "the thing which keeps life romantic and full of fiery possibilities is the existence of these great plain limitations which force all of us to meet the things we do not like or do not expect.''3 Not only are there two divergent ways of experienc-ing the world, but, I maintain, one is better and truer than the other. The first way of widening our horizon often fails to touch and change us as persons. It tends to make us observers of life, not participants; we avoid the challenges that help us grow. It can more accurately be described as an escape from the world. The truer way to experience the world, the way of enclosure, widens our horizons and opens us up to the drama of good and evil, to the graces of the present moment. This reality is demanding and life-changing. Enclosure, the common life, a~d the limited use of media and communication all serve to reveal and enlarge our world--but not by logical necessity. People can enlarge their world through travels and narrow their world in the enclosure, but those are the exceptions rather than the rule. Those who run into the enclosure to escape from the world discover all too soon that they have run in the wrong direction. Their escape from the world is to be found elsewhere: in the often world-nar-rowing experiences of the media and in other self-selected experiences that do not demand much from us. It is not surprising that the practice of enclosure is paradoxical, that by limiting physical space and limiting our experiences we in fact enlarge our experience. The 67.1 2008 van den Berg * Enclosure and Otber Ways to V~ulen One's Horizons Christian faith is founded on paradox. Through Jesus' death we receive life. Through the seemingly world-nar-rowing experience of the enclosure and other religious practices, the horizons of our hearts and minds can be expanded to God and to his concerns and to his world. And that, precisely, is the point of enclosure. The Weaver Weave the threads. Brown for the earth, Red for the fire, Blue for the air, Silver for the water. Weave the threads. Brown for humus, Red for passion, Blue for reason, Silver for the spirit. Weave the threads. Brown the Father, Red for His Son, Blue His Mother, Silver the Comforter. Weave the threads. Fibre of God. Fibre of men. Fibre of life. Weave into harmony, One in the Cosmic dance. Sister Margaret Anne OHP Review for Reli~ous ANTHONY MALAVIARATCHI Religious Brotherhood Today I n attempting to say what it means to be a religious rother today, we must be clear about what broth-erhood is. To discover afresh the most effective way of being a religious brother today, we must look at the tradition of brotherhood in the church. The brotherhood of Jesus and his ordinary follow-ers (Mt 23:8) and the brotherhood of Jesus and his spe-cially chosen disciples, the apostles (Mk 3:13-15), are already two strands of brotherhood at the very outset. Both were meant for the proclamation of the kingdom of God. The brotherhood of the first Christian com-munity in Jerusalem was~ meant to give witness to Jesus' resurrection. The brotherhood of religious life started with cenobitical life. The lone hermits became com-munities of brothers receiving spiritual guidance from abbas (fathers, animators). This kind of brotherhood Anthony Malaviaratchi CSSR, a former theology professor and for-mator now doing retreat work, presented this paper at a brothers' convention in Sri Lanka. His address is Santa Maria; George E. Silva Ma~atha; Kandy, Sri Lanka. anthonymalavi@yahoo.com 67.1 2008 Malaviaratcbi ¯ Religlou~ Brotherhood Today was making a united and concerted effort to live the gospel radically. Brotherhood in History In the period that followed, brotherhood began a new phase. Penitents entered "monasteries" and gradu-ally became members or at least began to live the life of the community. There seems to be no historical connection between th~se "penitent brothers" and-the stream of brothers popularly known as "teaching broth-ers." In the 17th century St. John Baptist de la Salle brought together a group of teachers to educate the badly neglected children of poor working-class families. So did St. Marcellin Champagnat in. the 19th century. Disillusioned by the growing secularism in French soci-ety and its impact on youth, the founder of the Marist brothers established schools for the underprivileged. The Brothers of Charity came together to care for poor workmen, the sick, and the mentally handicapped. Brotherhood: A Prophetic Lifestyle Teaching the poor and marginalized is not an exci~- ing apostolate today. It does not hit the headlines of even Catholic newspapers. That is because so many religious congregations have been doing it for three hundred years. At their origin the education of the underprivileged was simply not being taken care of by anybody. When Edmund Rice, founder of the Christian Brothers, began his teaching, the education of Catholics was illegal in Ireland. Religious life as a prophetic move-ment was reincarnated through works of mercy. The brothers, influenced by St. Vincent de Paul's Daughters of Charity, did what the society of the time failed or refused to do. They brought a strange but nevertheless Review for Religious refreshing message that drew the attention of the world as Mother Teresa did in our times. That was the secret of their success. Congregations of brothers, therefore, need to ask: How can we be prophetic today? What must we do to convey God's message afresh? What is it that society refuses to do today and would convey a prophetic mes-sage if we did it? Today many works of mercy, including teaching, are no longer prophetic. Many others do them now. Governments have undertaken the tasks of teaching, nursing, running orphanages and technical schools, and so forth. ~ Congregations of brothers, But we need to remember that it was the example of religious con-gregations dedi- - cated to serving the earthly well-being of those in need that paved the way for governments and other secular organizations to take up welfare services. therefore, need to ask: How can we be prophetic today ? Institutions and Status Brothers' institutions do excellent work, much appreciated especially by the laity. But the institutions give the impression of material well-being, security, and status, especially in the third world. Brotherhood, of course, has less status than the priesthood, which is one of the reasons why brothers have fewer vocations. Nevertheless, brothers' institutions do have status. To all appearances the vast majority of those who want to join our communities come not because they have 67.1 2008 Malaviaratcbi * Religious Brotherhood Today heard Christ's call to radical discipleship but because they are attracted by the status and security of the insti-tutions. In factl congregations that do not have institu-tions have few vocations. Widespread unemployment and lack of talent for modern cutthroat competition seem to be the underlying reasons for the many "voca-tions" in the third world. Unfortunately, in too many instances the enjoyment of status and security continues to be the lifelong hidden motivation. As their numbers dwindle, the brothers are being for+ed to give up their apostolic commitments one by one. For various reasons such as pressure from bishops and priests, parents, and old boys [alumni] and because of understandable emotional attachments, the most prestigious institutions will be the last to be given up. This will worsen the image of the brothers and con-sequently the quality of the vocations they get. Since many hold on to their status and security, it is most unlikely that radical measures will be taken. And so the faster religious life in its present form dies, the better it is. For then God will be able to raise radical disciples for Christ from the stones of the earth (Mt 3:9). Congregations, Too, Die Part of the crisis of religious life is the probability, if not the certainty, of dying out and entering the annals of history. The reality of death looms over all reality except over the only Real One. Heaven and earth must pass away, the church must pass away (Rv 21:1-2, Heb 12:22). Even the kingdom of Christ must pass away into the kingdom of the Father (1 Co 15:24-28). If all this is true, then our congregations can hardly be eternal. We must pass away when we have adequately served God's eternal designs. If so, our dying as a group, Review for Religious with all its glory and achievements, will also be a ser-vice. Even the thought of it can be a painful, if not traumatic, experience. It is surely a historical moment when God calls us to bring our self-offering to a climax by embracing his plans in the darkness of faith. Like our Divine Master, we too may be called to give life to oth-ers by an unquali-fied submission to God's designs. In the glorious days of the brotherhood in the church, our faith may not have been so much in God as in our numbers, institutions, and achievements. Our group's willing submission to God's unknown ways will bring life to the world in an abundance which our congregational achievements could never even dream of matching. The history of salvation unequiVocally offers all believers a planofaction in time of crisis. The Remnant The history of salvation unequivocally offers all believers a plan ~of action in time of crisis. It may be new to us who have got used to large numbers, but it is a beaten path in salvation history. The faithful were often led by God to negotiate crises by means of the Remnant. The word remnant indicates how great the destruc-tion of God's people will be. "Only a remnant will remain" (Is 10:22). Surely Christ had in mind a remnant when he called his disciples "little flock" (Lk 12:32) and when he said "Many are called but few are chosen." In the Scriptures the remnant is a tiny minority of those 67.1 2008 Malaviaratchi ¯ Religious Brotherhood Today leading religious lives in the eyes of God. These few continue to believe and remain faithful in the midst of widespread infidelity. The concept shows punishment for sin and God's faithfulness, which remains untouched by human infidelity. The faith in the remnant is an essential aspect of hope in the Bible. The Remnant Today If, as religious, brothers are to have hope, they must first realize that it is to run institutions that large num-bers are needed, whereas to give witness to the gospel of Jesus Christ a few are more than enough. These few must turn back to their founders and rediscover that it is exclusively for Christ's gospel that they were brought together in the first place. Second, they need to adopt a prophetic lifestyle and thus become clearly visible signs: Their lifestyle will be visible: ¯ (1) if they have a community lifestyle that is tangibly religious, that is, God-centered with a strong contemplative dimension. ¯ (2) if they live this life not in legal rigidity but in evangelical fidelity. This needs special attention since post-Vatican II freedom has often resulted in Western permissiveness. As a part of this evangelical fidelity, those who fail to live this life should be asked to leave whenever the superior, with the com-munity, comes to that conclusion. ¯ (3) if they embrace a clearly visible life of poverty, that is,can external life of utter simplicity. In every reform movement within reli-gious life, there has been a return to radical simplicity. Our world in the clutches of consumerism is crying for a modern-day Francis of Assisi. ¯ (4) if they engage in a service that others do not do and reach out to people whom society does not care for. In this way, small groups of brothers will create a Review for Religious counterculture which the Union of Superiors General has described as one with "passion for Christ and pas-sion for humanity." They will give prophetic witness to the spiritual dimension of human life in a world of increasing secularism, to brotherly lives and work in a world of increasing individualism, to evangelical sim-plicity in a world of increasing consumerism, to God's preferential love for those that society does not care about in a world of increasing self-centeredness. In a word, religious brotherhood will be prophetic through and through, a transparently radical form of discipleship of Christ. Zen°Poem for Thomas Merton For Brother Anthony Weber OCSO Abbey of the Genesee A white cloud Near a picket fence Close to a white rose, Walked a white-habited Trappist Praying an ivory beaded rosary Ignoring a cawing crow Noticing a disappearing cloud; Flower petals falling, The fence rotting; His scapular, dusty With prayers ascending, Approaching darkness Amid a forested hermitage. William J. Bly 73 67.1 2008 VINCENT GENOVESI Room for Sacramental Reconciliation? spiritual supports We would quickly recognize the mockery made of love were lovers to ask each other only "What must I do to avoid hurting you?" We expect lovers to share a deeper ambition: "What more can I do to show my love for you?''l The same is true of our relationship with God. When our commitment to our spir-itual and moral growth is seen as a response to God's invitation to love, it would be rather insulting to play at love and revel in testing love's limits. As honest and true lovers, we do not spend time anxiously determining how far we can go before our love relationship with God is strained to the breaking point. Instead, our earnest desii'e is to discover how we can foster that relationship. It is in this context that we come to under-stand more fully the meaning of human sinful- V'mcent Genovesi sJ is professor of theology and campus minister at Saint Joseph's University; 261 City Avenue; Merion Station, Pennsylvania 19066. vgenoves@sju.edu Review for Religious ness. Sin is best understood not so much as an isolated act, but rather as a relational reality. It is deliberately breaking our love relationship with God (mortal sin) or knowingly straining that relationship (venial sin). Of course, our love relationship with God is played out largely in our human relationships. St. John reminds us that, if we profess to love God while failing to love our neighbor, we are liars; we cannot love God, whom we have never seen, if we do not love the neighbors whom we see every day (1 Jn 4:20). It is important, too, that we remember the testimony of human experience--that any love relationship can suffer from thoughtless neglect and eventually die without our notice. To grow as faithful Christians, we must ultimately make decisions for ourselves, but it is folly to believe we can or should make all decisions simply on our own, without any help. Yes, we entrust our moral life to the guidance of our conscience, provided, of course, that we have first honestly, carefully, and prayerfully sought to inform our conscience properly. Even when we do this, however, we do not always live as we know we should. We get off track, and it becomes helpful or even neces-sary to seek guidance, encouragement, and exhortation. At times like these the sacrament of reconciliation can offer assistance, especially when we are not in regular dialogue with a spiritual director. Behind Catholicism's centuries-old practice of sacramental confession, there is a wisdom whose depth can be more appreciated in light of Vatican Council II's theological insights and psychology's contribution to a fuller understanding of the human person. Still, many sincere Catholics, even priests and religious, question the usefulness or neces-sity of the rite of reconciliation. Such questioning must be addressed. 67.1 2008 Genovesi * Room for Sacramental Reconciliation? Doing Wrong versus Sinning As background for our discussion, it helps to recall that Catholics are expected to confess serious or mor-tal sins at least once a year.2 Significantly, the accus-ing is done by ourselves. ("Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.") Sins are committed only by sinners--people who freely decide to live in various ways that they know to be hurtful to their own well-being and/or the well-being of others, and so must judge themselves to be unloving and in the wrong. In acknowledging that entering into sin requires both knowledge and freedom on our part, Catholic tradition teaches that no one sins by accident--just as no one truly loves by accident. Both to love and to sin are choices or decisions. Interestingly, St. Thomas Aquinas did not think it likely that persons who are honestly trying to live as good Christians would easily or frequently rupture their love relationship with God by choosing to sin seriously: "Although grace is lost by a single act of mortal sin, it is not, however, easily lost. For the person in grace does not find it easy to perform such an act because of a contrary inclination." Aquinas means that it is pre-cisely our love for God and others that will make it difficult for us to sin, or deliberately do anything that would put our love relationship in jeopardy.3 In light of Aquinas's teaching, and in keeping with the true nature of love, we may conclude that, although it is possible to sin mortally in one particular act, it is not always a simple matter to isolate that act. It is not likely, in other words, that we would sin mortally in an act that is totally out of our character, or in an act that we have not predisposed ourselves toward. Rather, our relation-ship of love for God and others will probably change and deteriorate before there is any outright rupturing of Review for Religious the union, which is why we must be all the more atten-tive to the daily responsibilities of love. In essence, all sins of commission are expressions of "the one great sin of omission, failure to love.''4 While this failure offends God, we too suffer as a result of our sinfulness insofar as we come to find ourselves within the narrow confines of self-centeredness. It is a confinement that brings with it a death penalty, for in failing to love we become members of the living dead (1 Jn 3:14-15). Thomas Aquinas acknowledges the human destructiveness of sin when he says that sin is indeed an offense against God, but that "God is offended only by those things that we do against our own true welfare.''5 Although:.some of our actions may be undeniably hurtful and wrong, our tradition reminds us that we are not always or n, ecessarily morally guilty of sinning in doing these things. Indeed, the Catechism of the Catholic Church notes that "imputability and responsi-bility for an action can be diminished or even nullified by ignorance, inadvertence, duress, fear, habit, inordinate attachments, and other psychological or social factors" (§1735). A similar idea appears later in the Catechism: "Unintentional ignorance can diminisl~ or even remove the imputability of a grave offense . The promptings of feelings and passions can also diminish the voluntary and free character of the offense, as can external pres-sures or pathological disorders" (§ 1860). We do well to All sins of commission are expressions of ",the one great sin of omission, failure to love." 67.1 2008 Genovesi * Room for Sacramental Reconciliation? remember, however, that if because of our insensitivity, lack of awareness, or curtailed freedom we are not guilty of sin when doing something that is in fact hurtful and wrong, we have no cause for self-satisfaction and com-placency. The less sensitive, aware, and free we are, the less we are fully human. Therefore, whatever stands in our lives as an obstacle to our free commitment in love is to be seen as something to overcome in our growth toward maturity as human beings and as Christians. In no way should this obstacle be relished as excusing us from sin, because the sad truth is that even without sin we may regrettably have done something hurtful to our-selves and others and are all too able to do so again. Three Reasons for this Sacrament In light of what it means to be a sinner--knowingly and freely failing or refusing to love God and others--it is clear that it is not the role of the priest-confessor, nor is it within his power, to determine definitively whether the penitent has or has not sinned, or how .serious that sin may be. In fact, no human being can rightly call another human being a sinner because reading another person's mind and heart is the prerogative of God alone. Thus the Catechism of the Catholic Church states that, "although we can judge that an act is in itself a grave offense, we must entrust judgment of persons to the justice and mercy of God" (§1861). And so it does us all good to remember that "God does not see as man sees; man looks at appearances but God looks at the heart" (1 S 16:7). Why, then, encourage the sacrament of rec-onciliation? I offer three reasons: the social nature of life and sin, the incarnational dimension of our Catholic tradition, and the moral growth that comes from hum-bly taking possession of our sinfulfiess. Review for Religious The Social Nature of Life and Sin: We need a deeper sense today of the social implications of our sinfulness. No sin is totally private, because in sinning we produce a change within ourselves that invariably influences our dealings with others. Thus no sin really remains "secret"; its effects will somehow leave a trail. Furthermore, whenever we hurt someone, we also hurt all those, including God, who love and care about that person. This means that an appropriate expres-sion of our sor-row should include seeking forgiveness and admitting publicly that our sinfulness has alienated or distanced us from both God and our neighbors. T.he sacrament of reconciliation serves this purpose, for through our encounter with the priest, who is both God's servant-representative to penitents and the people's minister before God, we testify to our desire to be reintegrated into the community of God's love and the company of his people. It is possible that appredation of the social nature of sin would be enhanced were parishes to pro-vide communal penance services more frequently. Catholicism's Incarnational Dimension: Moreover, pre-cisely as human beings who live as body-spirits, it is tremendously helpful for us to incarnate, "flesh out" or "enact," our sorrow and our need for forgiveness through recourse to sacramental confession. In addi-tion, God wants to "enact" his forgiveness of us through Whenever we hurt someone, we aiso hurt all those, including God, wh~; love and care " about that person. 67.1 2008 Genovesi ¯ Room for Sacramental Recondliation? the priest's guidance and comfort. And so, just as Christ puts flesh on our Father's love for us, so the words of absolution put flesh on Christ's forgiveness and mercy. Fortunately, too, I think, many priests today are deeply sensitive to the essentially social and incarnational dimensions of Christian living. As a result, in assign-ing a sacramental penance, they ask penitents to move beyond simple recitation of formal prayers and to seek reconciliation with God and neighbor through spe

Issue 66.2 of the Review for Religious, 2007. ; Challenges Ignatian Insights Experiencing Prayer Religious Life Perspectives QUARTERLY 66.2 2007 Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we try to live according to charisms of Catholic religious life. As Pope Paul Vl said, our way of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-633-4610 ¯ Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Maih review@slu.edu ¯ Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ° Pontifical College Josephinum 7625 North High Street ° Columbus, Ohio 43235 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ° Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on stibscription rates. ©2007 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribution, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. religious Editor David L. Fleming SJ Associate Editor Philip C. Fischer SJ Canonical Counsel Elizabeth McDonough OP Scripture Scope Eugene Hensell OSB Editorial Staff Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Vdebmaster . Clare Boehmer ASC Advisory Board Martin Erspamer OSB ¯ .Kathleen Hughes RSCJ L~uis and Angel.a Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD Miriam D. Ukerids CSJ QUARTERLY 66.2 2007 contents prisms 116 Prisms 118 challenges Between the Culture of the Satisfied and the Culture of Death John Lydon OSA looks at the challenge religious life faces in the developed world in light of declining numbers of mem-bers. Calling for an .ethic of solidarity, the article proposes not losing sight of our mission to the poor in these difficult financial times. Reflection Questions for Personal and Group Use 130 The Spiritual Blahs--Rejection or Invitation? George Aschenbrenner SJ interprets the painful, empty, dull experience in prayer and finds an invitation to greater intimacy with God. ignatian insights 138 The Finesse at the Finish of the Exercises A. Paul Dominic SJ studies the Ignatian Three Methods of Praying in the Spiritual Exercises and finds that they serve to carry the fervor and glow of the retreat into the prosaic chores of daily living. 114[ 154 "Here I Am": Ignatian Ways of Serving David L. Fleming SJ explores the notion of "to serve" in the spirituality of St. Ignatius Loyola through Ignatius's life expe-rience and through the Spiritual Exercises. Reflection Questions and Prayer Mantra Review for Religious 168 176 ~p~rJ~ncin~ pr~yer ~ Prayer Is a Risk Rick Malloy SJ reviews the practical benefits of a daily personal prayer life. Reflection Questions Beginning Contemplation according to John of the Cross James W. Kinn carefully explains the beginning of contemplation according to the writings of St. John of the Cross and his practical advice for praying this way. 188 rsJigious ~i~ p~rspoctivss ~ Living Religious Life with Chronic Illness Mary Therese Johnson OP shares her experience of how chronic health problems affected her person, her ministry, and her life in the community. 197 Revisiting My Revisit of Religious Life Lucy Fuchs recounts a reunion, after fifty plus five years, of former novices, those remaining in their religious congregation and those who have left it. A deep sharing and friendship is now all the more evident. 2O5 209 214 ~epar~men~s ~ Scripture Scope: The Bible for Meaning and Nourishment Canonical Coun'sel: Conscience Matters Book Reviews II15 66.2 2007 prisms ~here do we find our contact with the risen Christ? When we read the post-resurrection accounts in the Gospels, we are struck by the always unex-pected presence of the risen Jesus to his follow-ers. Their slowness in recognizing him leaves us perplexed. If he still wore the marks of his crucifixion, surely they would immediately know the One they had been with, perhaps for some three years. Wouldn't they recognize his eyes, his smile, his tone of voice? Of course, when he addresses Mary Magdalene by her name, then she knows at once. We might want to consider ourselves as superior to these first followers because we certainly would not be so slow in recognizing Christ. would we? I think that the church has treasured the gospel writings about the resurrec-tion appearances just so that we Christians of all ages can appreciate the difficulties we humans have in recognizing God's presence in our lives. Like the first disciples, we struggle to name our "unusual/divine" experience as an encounter with the risen Lord. Maybe we are afraid of fooling ourselves. Perhaps we have a fear of God enter-ing so closely into our ordinary life. But just as Jesus came in surprising ways and at unexpected Revie~v for Religious times to his early followers, so he continues to come into our lives today, if we but take note. If we look to the most obvious place, Jesus meets us in our praying. Most of us are all too aware that our prayer time can be "ordinary," full of attention meanderings, dis-tracted, heavy in time-waiting. But, then, there are those prayer moments when we are taken out of all time, and we know Jesus' touch, Jesus' presence, Jesus' love, Jesus' calling our name. Even though the experience is immedi-ate, we need to note God,s presence by a review of our prayer or by our journaling. It is when we take notice, looking back, that we acknowledge and make our own that "it is the Lord." There is also the same type of "moments" in the pan-orama of our day where Jesus is present in the comfort-ing kind act or in the challenging question asked by the stranger. There are the moments when we are in the midst of a party or when we are riding on the public transport and we experience that "you are the one I love." Again it requires a looking back, a reflection, on our part, likely a noting through the daily examen or through some brief or extended journaling. We are claiming our experience and "incarnating" it even by our noting the divine inter-vention. Why does the risen Jesus want to enter into our lives? For the same reason that he appeared to his first follow-ers after his resurrection. He wants us to share in his joy of a life forever with God. He wants to confirm our faith. He wants to strengthen us in our own life mission. It is important for us to note how the risen Jesus enters into our lives. Our contact with the risen Jesus is not just through the testimony of others. All of us Christians are the recipients of Jesus' attention and presence--if we only take note. David L. Fleming sJ 66.2 2007 JOHN J. LYDON Between the Culture of the Satisfied and the Culture of Death challenges 118] Let us clarify the terms. "Culture of the Satisfied'? comes from the tide of a book by John Kenneth Galbraith, i a study of how the well-off econo-mies of the world have shaped the .entire world's economic culture. "The culture of death" refers to the poor, who, as Peruvian theologian Gustavo Guti~rrez says, "die before their time." The United States is part and parcel of the culture of the satisfied, yet we as religious are called to bear witness to something better. What are the challenges this poses for us? Can we be relevant in either or both of these cultures? We are challenged by two dominant features of American x;eligious life. First, we are immersed in the culture of the satisfied, in the consumer-ori-ented culture that never seems to have enough. An October 2000 article in the New York Times reported that hundreds of millionaires were asked if they considered themselves "wealthy.". John J. Lydon OSA has been for eighteen years a professor in the Seminary of the Archdiocese of Trujillo, Peru. Email: jlydon@osaperu.com. Review for Religious Of those whose net worth, apart from their home value, was between one million and four million dollars, only a few considered themselves wealthy. The rest said that being wealthy meant having around five million. People having .five million dollars in net worth also said they were not wealthy, just "comfortable." And so it went. People having ten million dollars gave the same answer: they needed to advance one or two steps more up the economic ladder to be wealthy. It would appear that the consumer culture convinces most people that they never have enough even when all of their basic and frivolous needs are satisfied. We American religious, immersed as we are in this culture, may--without a critical conscious-ness-- easily assume these same values and lose sight of our mission. Second, we live in the sociological reality of American religious life. It is a vocational option being chosen by very few. All of our communities are getting older, and many are simply going to disappear. And so the closing of apostolates, the reduction of personnel, the advancing median ages, and the declining health of older members is already a reality. In the middle of that stark reality, it is easy to forget the vast numbers of people who live in great poverty beyond our horizon--and to forget what still remains our mission in the world. The Option for the Poor At its roots, religious life has an evangelical reason for the preferential option for the poor. As the Congregation on Consecrated Life in its document Fraternal Life in Community puts it, one of the marks of religious life is "everyone for the poor," "many with the poor," "some [living] like the poor" (§63). In the light of this, our mis-sion seems clear. It is to somehow challenge those that live in the culture of the satisfied and to reach out in solidar- 119 66.2 2007 Lydon ¯ Between Cultures Solidarity is an attitude based not simply on but also on justice, 120 ity with those who are in the culture of death. Solidarity is the key to understanding our mission, as it is the key to understanding the church's social doctrine, especially under the papacy of John Paul II, who used the word constandy.2 For him, solidarity was intimately related to the cause of peace and justice; this explains its importance in his social doctrine: "The motto of the pontificate of my esteemed predecessor Pius XII was opus iustitiae pax, peace as the fruit of justice. Today one could say, with the same exact-ness and the same power of biblical inspiration (see Is 32:17, Jm 3:18): opus solidaritatispax, peace as the fruit of solidarity.''3 For Pope John Paul, there are two kinds of solidarity. (1) Solidarity is the binding together of people who are disadvantaged so that they can be stronger in the face of injustice. The classic example of this is trade unions, sup-ported by the church since Return novarum (1891). It is no coincidence that the trade union of Poland that went up against and helped bring down the Communist govern-ment was called Solidarity. (2) There can also be solidarity between those who have a great deal and those who have little. This is where the greater emphasis of this term is placed in John Paul's writings. Solidarity is an attitude based not simply on charity but also on justice. The church has always maintained that the goods of the earth are destined by the Creator to be used by all of God's creation. The accumulation of a great part of the goods of the earth in the hands of a small number of people, while the great majority of the Review for Religious world's people live in misery, is an affront to the plan of creation and the manifestation of an unjust social order. "The church's admonition is clear, and it is a faithful echo of the voice of Christ: earthly goods are meant for the whole human family and cannot be reserved for the exclu-sive benefit of a few.''4 What are the temptations we face that can lead us to lose sight of our basic mission? We need to be aware of these because we may be so immersed in the culture of the satisfied that we are no longer a symbol of protest or an authentic invitation to solidarity. Jesus faced three temptations as he went into the desert after his baptism. It would seem that we face at least an equal number of temptations that would pull us away from our mission. Temptation 1: Focus on Ourselves and Not the Mission As we become older and have a rising need to take care of sick or less mobile members, we are tempted to see that as the principal preoccupation of our religious life. We look to build better healthcare units and accord-ingly to find benefactors to better equip them or to pro-vide endowments for them. These are noble concerns that require attention, but the danger is that they become the principal focus. Erik Erikson, the famous psychologist, developed a theory of eight stages of life in which we grow as human beings. Each stage faces its own challenge and thus can involve either grace and sin. Erikson adds that, if we fail at one stage, we cannot hope to move to the next one. The last two stages are of particular interest here. In the penultimate stage we might choose either the grace of generativity or the sin of self-absorption. Generativity is a concern for the betterment of others and of society. We either reach out beyond ourselves in service to better our environment, our world, or we fall into self-absorption. ,121 66.2 2007 Lydon ¯ Between Cultures 122 ]. In the final stage the struggle is between integrity and despair. Those who see that they have made a contribu-tion, that their life has had meaning and they leave .some-thing better behind, .~c~n leave this world in peace. For those who wonder if i~"Fihs been worth it,if they have left anything good behind, the destiny is despair. As much of religious life in the United States and Canada enters the last stages of its sociological growth, Erikson's insights can guide us. If we lose sight of our mission and focus on ourselves and our own needs, all the up-to-date healthcare units, all the endowments in their name, will not bring us fulfillment. Having failed to make use Of the grace of generativity, we cannot move to the final stage, integrity. It is not easy to keep that mission in the forefront ¯ of our existence. John Paul II, then, reminds us to con-front society's consumerism, which leads people to accu-mulate more, believing that their worth is in what they have rather than in who they are. The way to challenge this unbridled consumerism is through a .greater sim-plicity of lifestyle. If.the goods of the world are to be shared with the poor, those who are economically bet-ter off must adopt spiritual poverty and strive to simplify their lifestyles so as to make more of the world's goods available for the poor.s "Evangelical poverty is something that transforms those who accept it. They cannot remain indifferent when faced with the suffering of the poor; indeed, they feel impelled to share actively with God his preferential love for them.''6 Temptation 2: Change the Meaning of the Mission Marshall McLuhan coined the famous adage "The medium is the message" to assert that the mass media have been shaping modern culture. The medium gives any message a new meaning. Similarly, we are tempted to Review for Religious give mission a new meaning because our needs push us to change the meaning of the words. We readily change what we mean when we talk of the "poor." Our evangelical mission as religious is to have a pref-erential option for the poor. But people debate who are poor. (Gustavo Guti~rrez has often pointed out that the poor have no difficulty identifying who are rich.) And so we are tempted to change the definition of who are poor, even to believe ourselves to be "the poor." We think we have a preferential option for the poor because we take care of our weak and infirm members and our parents and family members. We give them "the best of care" and see this as fulfillment of the option for the poor. No doubt they are needy, and we reach out to them. We should, however, avoid the temptation of identifying ourselves as the poor. We may be needy, but we are not the poor. At the Millennium World Summit, heads of state and other officials met at the United Nations to mark the year 2000 ~nd set up goals for humanity over the next quarter century--goals mostly having to do with the poor, the marginalized, those excluded from the benefits of devel-opment. Their definition of "the poor" is those who live on $2 or less a day; remember this. When our mission requires a preferential option for the poor, the question is not what we give to the needy in our own religious family. The question is what we do for the needs of those that fit the world's definition of the poor. What exactly do we mean when we say "preferential option for the poor"? The phrase, like all such terms, has its limitations. Let us examine briefly, the words "option," "preferential," and "poor." Option has not always been interpreted correcdy. It does not mean "optional"---choose according to your own wishes. Option here implies a con-scientious choice of, a profound permanent commitment to, solidarity with the poor. 123 66.2 2007 Lydon * Between Cultures The very word preferential rejects any kind of exclusivity, 124 The very word preferential, as should be obvious, rejects any kind of exclusivity. It highlights who should be the first--not the only--objects of our solidarity. It specifies those most in need of our attention, and is not "exclusive or discriminatory towards other groups.''7 Poor has perhaps been the most misunderstood term here. At times it seems that people do not want to identify the poor, or they identify them as everyone so that the word and the expression lose meaning. The Latin American Episcopal Conference of Medell~n examined this same issue and made it clear who is being referred to by the word poor, making a distinction between three types of poverty. (1) Materialpoverty. This means a lack of what is nec-essary to live a dignified life. It is an evil that is always denounced "as contrary to the will of the Lord, and mosdy the result of man's injustice and sin.''8 (2) Spiritual poverty. A quality to be imitated. The poor in spirit are people open to the Lord's will. Like the anawim of the Old Testament, the poor in spirit are the humble people who put their trust in the Lord. The poor in spirit are followers of Jesus. The Beatitudes indi-cate the attitudes for disciples who welcome the kingdom and show solidarity with the excluded. In this "spiritual infancy," they seek to remain fully available to the will of the Lord. It is a quality that everyone is called to adopt. (3) Poverty of solidarity. This is a free decision to share the plight of those who are victims of material poverty in order to bear witness against the evil that such pov-erty represents and to demonstrate spiritual freedom Review for Religious from material goods. "In this one follows the example of Christ.''9 Likewise, it obviously is one of the principal marks of our religious vows. The "poor" of the "preferential option for the poor" are dearly identified in the Medellin document as being those who lack the necessities for a dignified life. After Medell~n, attempts were made to debilitate this option by broadening the definition to include everyone and thus effectively eliminate the idea of a preference "for the poorest and most needy sectors."~° For this reason, the Latin American Episcopal Conference document of Puebla,11 in one of its most moving and significant sec-tions, precisely explains the identity of the "poor" to whom both Medell~n and Puebla refer. As the bishops mention, the faces of the poor include the indigenous peoples who live in inhuman situations, the campesinos (farm workers) who have no land and are exploited, fac-tory workers with little pay and no unions, outcasts of the cities who have no money, children weakened by poverty even before they are born, and those that are abandoned because they can no longer produce.~2 The poor, then, are not just an economic category but are dominated peoples, exploited social classes, despised races, and marginalized cultures. They are the "excluded," those who have no power, no voice, and for that reason suffer the effects of injustice. Undoubtedly, these groups of people are almost always the economically poorest as well. They are those who suffer unjust death, premature death.~ The Social Viewpoint of the Poor To adopt this preferential option, some attempt must be made to understand reality from the viewpoint of the poor. This requires a change of "social position." Poverty (and marginalization and exclusion) must be seen from 125 66.2 2007 Lydon ¯ Between Cultures the point of view of the poorest, though not necessarily by living among the poor. If economic conditions worsen for the poor while the gap between poor and rich widens, then the situation is unjust, whatever the macroeconomic statistics may say. This "social position" to interpret real-ity is a viewpoint we must all take up, whatever pastoral work we undertake, because only in this way can we be "for the poor." Only thus are we ready to fulfill the man-date: "everyone for the poor, many with the poor, and some [living] like the poor."!4 The church wishes to be a "church of the poor.''Is This means that it gives "preferential attention to the poor, seeking to share time and resources in order to alleviate suffering, [and] works with all sectors of society, including the poor themselves, in search of solutions to the problems of poverty and so freeing people from mis-ery and want. [It means using] the talents and gifts of the poor, relying on them in her mission of evangelization. The church of the poor is a church in which the poor are welcomed, listened to, and actively involved . A true church of the poor contributes decisively to the needed transformation of society, to social renewalbased on the vision and values of the gospel.''16 Those who still lack the means to live are the only measure of whether we live that preferential option or neglect it because we put our own needs (as real or imagined as they my be), rather than the poor, at the center of our mission. 12:6 TemPtation 3: Lose Our Trust in the Providence of God Mark Twain famously remarked, "There are three kinds of lies: lies, damn lies, and statistics." Numbers have power to persuade, but even accurate numbers may bol-ster inaccurate statements, and so we need a critical eye in examining them. They remain an important tool, but a tool to use only within the perspective of our mission. Review for Religious In our communities we face a clear loss of numbers and an aging population. We.can see that attending to the old and infirm means greater costs while income-produc-ing members are fewer and fewer. In the light of this, we make budgetary decisions to reduce costs, but we also invest more in ourselves. We start to build endowments, and we seek to be "fully endowed" so that we can meet these needs on just the interest generated by our endow-ment portfolio. Yet perhaps the gospel story of the man who has a great harvest and builds storage bins to keep it all should alert us not to make our goal the establishment of an endowment that more or less eliminates a need to believe in God's providence (Lk 12:16-21). If we look at the poorest among even the relatively rich (by world levels) American population, the latest studies of the Federal Reserve show that the bottom twenty percent of the population have an average net worth of only $7,500. At that level they lack any degree of security about the future. If we move beyond the poor-est Americans to average American families, the net worth goes up to $93,000. This is the net worth, including prop-erties, of the average American family. And so, as we build up our endowment portfolios, we need to ask ourselves whether we are a community of faith, vowed to poverty, looking for a.guaranteed future that is not only out of line with the poor, but also out of line with average families in our culture of the satisfied. Does our fear of the future lead us to forget God's provi-dence and put so much en.ergy into building up endow-ments that we eliminate some or all of our programs of solidarity with the poor? Most of our world lives in the "culture of death." Much of the human race lives on less than $2 a day while a few live in the "culture of the satisfied." As religious living in this latter culture, we are still called, perhaps 127 66.2 2007 Lydon * Between Cultures 128 especially in the sunset of pastoral commitments and even congregations, to make a difference in our world. The fulfillment of our mission, to have a preferential option for the poor, requires of us that we do not sacrifice our mission for the sake of our own futures. In the end, that would only result in our losing both. It is in our mission that we realize our dreams and desires for a church that is more eternal than apostolates and congregations. It is in contributing to that mission that we find integrity and peace. Through our acts of solidarity with the poor, with those who "die before their time," we raise a prophetic voice in favor of divine providence and against the con-sumer culture that encompasses us. We tell the world by our actions, by "walking our talk," that joy and peace come from narrowing the gap between the world's haves and have-nots. We recognize and/'eject temptations that can lead us astray, not because there is nothing good in them, but rather because they are not the "walk" taken by Jesus Christ. Notes t John K. Galbraith, The Culture of Contentment (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1992). In Spanish it is La Cultura de la Sati~Caccidn (Barcelona: Ariel, 1992) although it is often cited as La Cultura de los Sati~Cecbos. I use this Spanish idea here. 2John Paul II used the word 104 times in his documents related to the social doctrine of the church (Laborem exercens 6, Sollicitudo rei socialis 13, Centesimus annus I 1, 1995 UN speecb 7, World Peace Day messages 67) 3 John Paul II, Sollicitudo, §39. 4 John Paul II, If You Want Peace, Reach Out to the Poor, §3, cites Centesimus annus, §§31 and 37. 5John Paul II, lfYou l/Vant Peace, §5: "In order to promote the social, cultural, spiritual, and also economic welfare of all members of society, it is therefore absolutely essential to stem the unrestrained consumption of earthly goods and to control the creation of artificial needs. Moderation and simplicity ought to become the criteria of our daily lives. The quantity of goods consumed by a tiny fraction of the world population produces Review for Religious a demand greater than available resources. A reduction of this demand constitutes a first step in alleviating poverty, provided that it is accompa-nied by effective measures to guarantee a fair distribution of the world's wealth." See also Gaudium et spes, §88: "The greater part of the world is still suffering from so much poverty that it is as if Christ himself were crying out in these poor to beg the charity of his disciples. Let us not be guilty of the scandal of having some nations, most of whose citizens bear the name of Christians, enjoying an abundance of riches, while others lack the necessities of life and are tortured by hunger, disease, and all kinds of misery. For the spirit of poverty and charity is the glory and witness of the church of Christ." 6John Paul II, If You Want Peace, §5. 7 John Paul II, Centesimus annus, §57. 8 Medellfn, §14, 4. This was held in Medellin, Colombia, in 1968. 9 Medellfn, §14, 4. ,0 Medellln, §14, 9. 11 Held in Puebla, Mexico, in 1979. " Puebla, §§31-39. 13 John Paul II identified the "poor" with the "marginalized." As the new millennium approached, he asked, "How can we fail to lay greater emphasis on the church's preferential option for the poor and the out-cast?" (Tertio millennio adveniente, §51). Such marginalization can be more than economic; it can also be cultural and religious. See Centesimus annus, §57. 14 CICLSAL, Fraternal Life in Community, §63. is CICLSAL, Fraternal Life, §63. 16 John Paul II, address in September 2003 to bishops from the Philippines, §25. Reflection Questions for Personal and Group Use 1. Lydon identifies three temptations that can head us to lose sight of our basic vision. Do you agree with the ones he identifies? Would you want to add other temptations from your own experience? 2. How can religious men and women be relevant to the culture of the satisfied and to the culture of death? 129 66.2 2007 GEORGE A. ASCHENBRENNER The Spiritual Blahsm Rejection or Invitation? /~r some people, spiritual boredom is not painful. hey are so distracted by exciting pleasures and challenges in daily life that an interior emptiness, smoth-ered by all the excitement, is not bothersome to them. They do not even seem to notice. Though they have not overtly denied faith and God, they have become unim-portant realities, rarely experienced in any lively personal way. This is a sign, a sad sign, that both their sensibil-ity and their deeply personal desire have been numbed. Something might snap them out of their stupor, but, until it does, life just rushes on. Crisis of Interpretation For many of us, however, the effect is very differ-ent. The inner boredom is painful. It discourages and stings with frustration. Beneath all the busy concerns, and even the quick superficial pleasures, something seems t30 George A. Aschenbrenner sJ is rector of the Jesuit Community at the University of Scranton; Scranton, Pennsylvania 18510. This article, published in the fall 2006 issue of Ignatian Imprints, a new publication of the Maryland Province Jesuits, appears here with the permission of its editor and of the author. Review.for tCetigi~us stale, drab. There must be more to life. How to ignite the fire? The issue is a matter of interpretation. Before know-ing what to do, we must honestly feel and face the interior boredom. We must appreciate what it means, what it is saying to us. A quick automatic interpretation rises in the face of this dulling pain. Nothing is going on so why waste time with prayer, with usual signs of devotion? This is not our time. Such an instantaneous interpretation, though understandable, is often misleading, incorrect, even dan-gerous. A more mature and helpful interpretation requires more time and faith-filled reflection. Once we let the quick emotional explanation pass by, we can look more deeply at a larger array of possibilities. In the first place, this may be happening to us because we have not been very serious, very personal, about our faith and have not prayed much. In such a case this festering frustration serves as a wake-up call to get more serious about our relationship with God and not to settle any-more for careless and heartlessly mumbled words. This may be a call to a more lively personal relationship, a call to pray in our own words beyond the traditional ones, a call to listen more openly and interactively to God's Word in Scripture and throughout our whole life. If we are undisciplined and out of shape spiritually, some hard work at tuning up our spirit will be required before the dismal "nothing's happening" lethargy will lift. On the other hand, if the dreary dry condition is not caused by our negligence, then a whole new and more serious possibility presents itself. In this case, we are not out of shape spiritually, nor stuck in complacency with numbed, untended desires. We have personally known God's love. We have .been stirred, .consoled, emotion-ally touched by that love and have fashioned our daily life accordingly. Recently, over days and weeks, that has 66.2 2007 Ascbenbrenndr * The Spiritual Blabs--Rejeaion or Invitation? We must carefully turn to God in faith for appreciation and interpretation of this malaise. changed; a smog has settled in and contaminated the sunny enthusiasm of our faith. It sure seems as though nothing is happening now. And the temptation to aban-don our prayer life stares hauntingly into the eye of our SOU1. Seriously misleading, however, this temptation beck-ons to exacdy the wrong decision. In the awareness of no personal negligence on our part, we must carefully turn to God in faith for appreciation and interpretation of this malaise. This crisis of interpretation is an important point in the spiritual life of the mature believer. The invitation turns our hearts away from the emotional discomfort (oh, how boring and dull it all feels!) to what God is really saying in and through it all. This always involves a second look of reflection beyond the spontaneous disheartening emotional response. In this dark, dreary dryness, God, whose love is as personally present as ever before, is inviting us to draw closer by entering a deeper part of our faith relationship. i32 Invitation to a Deeper Faith Even though the emotion of God's love can be pre-cious grace, this felt sensation of love can easily turn into a golden calf, an idol, a false god for selfish wor-ship. Without intending it and sometimes without even noticing it, we begin to presume on the presence of this emotional grace and cannot imagine life without it. But such emotional experience, grace though it is, registers on the superficial, unpredictable level of our person. God, Review for Religious whose desires for each of us are all-embracing beyond our imagining, is inviting us to an ever more profound and, therefore, more intimate, more personal union. Development of such a union always involves a purifi-cation, a stripping away of selfishness, of too much "me." And, put starkly, this stripping always hurts. In this inter-pretation, which is critical to a deeper, more personal rela-tionship with God, flae dry, stale emptiness of our faith is not a mistake, a negligence on our part, but rather a call from God, our lover extraordinaire. We are being invited to believe beyond our feelings, to enter a realm of pro-found faith. Though it may not emotionally involve lots of fun and intense pleasure, our relationship with God at this level is more trustworthy, more foundational, more dependable than any simply emotional sense. This profound interpretation of God's loving presence does not downplay the emotional, even exciting, experi-ence of God's love. The truth here pushes deeper into our soul than the level of feelings. We see the same truth in our human interpersonal experiences of love. Though the emotional excitement of falling in love can be intense and wonderfully endearing, such goose-bump experiences of love cannot endure forever. No, these beloved emotional experiences must be rooted in a more profound dimen-sion of our relationship. Belief in the Presence of God's Love How easy it is to get stuck in these emotional traps. We want always to feel the fire and comfort of God's love. Because God is so jealous as to desire all of us in relationship, our divine lover must pry loose our emotion-ally fierce grasp, must wean us away from the wonder-ful, but undependably fluctuating, emotional satisfaction. This purification of our experience of God calls us deeper into our person beyond the realm of emotion and feeling. 133 66.2 2007 Ascbenbrenner ¯ The Spiritual Blabs--Rejection or Invitation? This deeper invitation does not kill and bury forever the emotional part of us. But the pain of temporarily letting go of this sensual dimension of our relationship with God hurts--and is risky. What will be left after such a letting go? For this reason, such purification invites and requires grieving. These tears at the apparent loss and absence of God can sting and burn, and should honestly be shared with God. But the tears and ache are soothed finally in a dawning realization: God is more than emotional spontao neity. Such a loving God is our very life. Far beyond any emotional impulse, God's love, intimate and uniquely per-sonal, is profoundly and ineradicably present at our very core, intentionally loving life into us breath after breath. This profound presence gives a peace, a harmony, a humble confidence beyond any intensity of emotion. Such an awareness can quiet us and synchronize us to the divine breath-giver's artful creation of us in the imme-diacy of every moment. Simply to breathe is to be loved, just to exist is to be cherished beyond imagining. This realization is truly awesome: for me as I write this, and for you as you now read it. A centering such as this reveals a foundation, always there, beneath all emotional and spon-taneous fluctuation. The apparent drying up, even death, of emotional fervor does not imply rejection. The belief in the core presence of God's love blessing us with life reveals the emotional nagging dullness as invitation, not rejection, on God's part. This appreciation of God's kind and insistent invitation does not automatically deluge us with emo-tional fervor. Nonetheless, this felt sense of God's love will always be part of our relationship, though now rooted in a more profound and personal dimension. In this deep-ened experience of God, our emotional sluggishness and lack of fervor reveals God's intentional loving dynamic, if joined with other signs: a keen desire for prayer, for Review for Religious simply being with our loving Creator all through the day, and for serving God's will in everything. These signs demonstrate that the sensible dullness is not a matter of divine reiection, nor does it drain our energy for serious effort in response; rather it is a precious moment of lov-ing invitation. Acting as if. Activity, concretely imaginative and bordering on the heroic, puts our faith to work beyond any emotional stimulation. This is a time for "acting as if." While we do not feel like belieying, praying, or serving in love, it is time to act, to act as if we do feel it. Why? Because we are loving, believing, acting out of a genuine experience of our loving God, but from a depth of ourselves more profound than emo-tional. But this "acting as if" can seem insincere, dishonest, even hypocritical. The insinuation of this type of inter-pretation reveals an evil, unholy spirit always eager to mislead and deter us. -- Rather than hypocrisy, we are here in the depths of incar-national, sacramental faith. To cling to and to kiss a cru-cifix when we do not even feel like giving time for prayer, to reach out to the needy person when we rather feel like turning away in withdrawal are not acts of dishonesty. These can be heroic efforts, whether quietly private or publicly observable, to sacramentalize in hope our deepest center of faith and love. Without such quiet heroism, our faith, our intimately personal relationship with God, will not mature and persevere over the long haul of life. An important distinction, however, is at work here. We are not acting as if we believed what we actually do not believe. That is hypocrisy. Rather, we are acting in line with what we deeply believe, even though, at this This is a time for "acting as if " i135 66.2 2007 Ascbenbrenner ¯ The Spiritual BlabsnRejection or Invitation? 136t moment, the emotional drive for such acting is absent. This is mature faith: to act as if we are always feeling what we deeply believe. The ability to believe and sacramental-ize in action what we are not now feeling marks the seri-ous believer. Often we are tempted, quite unconsciously, to identify faith and feeling. This always short-circuits faith, and, though we enjoy the emotional intensity, such an identification of faith and feeling often precludes the permanent fidelity of a mature faith commitment. Couples, for whom the honeymoon is long past, know, live, and act from a depth of love, mutual trust--and a more mature emotional caring for one another--devel-oped over years. In the hit Broadway musical "Les Miserables," Jean Valjean, the central obvious Christ figure, promises to care for the daughter of the dying and poverty-stricken Fantine with these words: "I swear this on my life." This promise cuts far below any momentary surge of emotion. And the beautiful climax of the show reveals Valjean's fidelity to this promise through a great variety of chal-lenges. Mature adult believers know the challenge and the blessing of acting what they believe, and acting it as if they felt what now, as a matter of fact, they are not feel-ing. This faith-filled acting is always blessed over time with an emotional fervor which, at certain times, in God's mysterious loving ways with us, seems absent and lost. A Presence in Faith A lack of accustomed satisfaction and felt closeness to God in our prayer and ordinary devotions when accom-panied by a lively desire, on our part, not only to be with God but also to serve the justice of the Risen Jesus in our world, reveals finally a clear message of divine endearment for us. Beyond the realm of graced emotional intimacy lies a presence in faith sometimes too deep for words, but Review for Religious more trustworthy and dependable than the fluctuations of graced feeling in our relationship. This is often a rather new land for many of us. It is a land where God is always with us inviting our trust. It is a land where our identity, satisfaction, and fire for generous service most deeply and personally reside. A spiritual staleness, when insightfully investigated, is always an invitation, never a rejection--an invitation to greater intimacy with God, whose love in the Risen Jesus is serving us, at every moment, in a more charming fash-ion than we could ever fully realize before we die. Couldn't You Return? You came to be with us. From strips of linen to strips of linen, swaddling to shroud, You began and ended as the least of us, a man martyred in a power game you wouldn't play. Now we must put ourselves where You can find us, with the least, the last, the lost: children of the homeless, pawns of politicians, those religion oppresses. Dear manger-born, martyr-torn One, we are small again today. Couldn't you return now? Bonnie Thurston 137 66.2 2007 A. PAUL DOMINIC The Finesse at the Finish of the Exercises ignatian insights "It is relatively easy to live a life of clarity.and peace if you take yourself on retreat to a moun-taintop. But how do we bring the fruits of that stillness and clarity into the rush of the modern world?" The question is raised by a travel writer about his writings taking on a spiritual tone.l How much more would St. Ignatius have been seized with such a question in relation to the Spiritual Exercises! Given his thoroughness, he would have left his own answer to it. The last of the formal exercises, the Contemplation to attain love.would seem that answer. But after it come "three methods of praying" (§§238-260).2 Lowly compared with the Contemplation, they too may serve to carry the fervor and glow of the Spiritual Exercises into the prosaic and profane chores of daily living. A. Paid .Dominis SJ last wrote for us in early 2005. His address remains c/0 Missionaries of the Poor; Fatima Nagar; Warangal 505 004; India. Re'vie'~ for Religious . Prayer after the Thirty-Day Retreat This thought impressed me more and more as I sought to understand the place of the unsung "three methods" in the whole ensemble of the Exercises. The first method is four modes of examining our conscience; the second and third are ways of praying orally. The question of these methods in the overall progress of the Spiritual Exercises came to me in a practical way as I planned a course of meditation and prayer for a group of novices whom I had directed some months earlier in the full Exercises. I asked the novice mistress if the three methods of praying would satisfy her expectation. However she envisaged it, it was clear to me that, to do anything really useful for her nov-ices, I had to teach them to pray as people who had made the full Exercises more or less well according to the mea-sure of grace given them by the Lord. I do not remember having heard anything special about the three methods from the "specialists" with whom I had either made the Exercises or studied them. An exception was the unassuming, unlearned specialist my own novice master, who after the long retreat kept us novices praying for some days using the three methods, in the best tradition of the Exercises (§256), though with-out explaining why. That tradition is worth discovering, recovering, and pondering. The Three Methods as Part of the Exercises First, as the various methods of meditation and con-templation are part and parcel of the full Exercises, so are all three methods of prayer without exception, though not in the same way. All appear in their proper order. Meditation comes in the First Week of the Exercises and contemplation runs through the remaining Weeks, the three methods emerging towards the end of the full Exercises. They are clearly and cleverly appended to the [139 66.2 2007 Dominic ¯ The Finesse at the Finish of the Exercises 1401 Fourth Week. What is more, the three methods form an "inclusion" with the early sentence that defines and explains the phrase "spiritual exercises" (§§238 & 4). Polanco's witness is consistent with this in letter and spirit; he says: "The Fourth Week is completed when he [the exercitant] is judged to have made sufficient progress in the exercises on the resurrection and on enkindling the love of God, as well as the methods of prayer.''3 Of course, The threeme ho'dS lend themselv, es~to.different levels of exercising and experienCihg them, the three methods may be detached and used for those who go through the partial Exercises restricted to the First Week alone (§ 18). That only suggests and emphasizes that the three methods lend them-selves to different levels of exercising and experi-encing them. The level at which the exercitants will ben-efit to the full, however, is when they make use of them as the last part of the full Exercises of roughly one month. Such an understanding is in accordance with what has been called the circular nature of the Exercises.4 The idea of circularity, I believe, implies that the principles and practices with which the Exercises begin run all through the Exercises with an ever greater intensification and leave their effect even afterwards. That is to say, the aim is the same in the beginning and the end; in the beginning it is present at least as an urgent desire, and at the end, hope-fully, it finds its actualization. Thus, for example, though no one can begin the Exercises without some magnanim-ity and generosity toward God as expressed in offering God one's entire will and liberty (§5), no one is expected to make the offering of the Sume et suscipe (Take and receive) right at the beginning, but only after a month Review for Religious of maturation, with or without struggle, climaxing in the Contemplation to attain love (§§230-237), a part of the finale of the Exercises. In the same way, if the three meth-ods of prayer (examen and vocal prayer) are practiced at the beginning, they ought to provide the exercitants a far greater relish and perfection at the end, with no abrupt ending, but rather a continuation. How that happens is the matter for consideration now. The First Method The first method of prayer (§§238-248) appears to be at first sight a plain and simple examination of conscience, making use of various headings: laws (decalogue) or gifts (three powers of the soul and five senses) or related topics (capital sins). Given the usual emotional perception of most people, the examination of conscience does not pass for prayer. But in the Exercises it is out-and-out prayer, albeit of a particular kind; St. Ignatius mentions it first in his list of prayer exercises (§1). No doubt a conscientious examina-tion yields an account of our soul during a certain period of time, but not all on our own; it involves attentiveness to God's presence from start to finish, and so it qualifies as prayer. It begins with gratefulness for God's benefits and asking for grace to know our general ingratitude or our unfaithfulness in a particular matter; it is followed by asking God's pardon and receiving grace to do better (§43). This prayer practice of the examen twice daily all through the Exercises is deepened towards the end by the first method of prayer, engaging the exercitants with focused soul-searching under the guidance of the Lord, who has sought and found and accompanied them for as long as a month. This argument gains further force from the fact that, like the other methods of prayer in the Exercises, the first method has its bwn assigned subject matter: the ten commandments, for example, to focus the prayer of 141 66.2 2007 Dominic * The Finesse at the Finish of the Exercises interior purgation. This prayer leads us to beg first for a complete understanding of the commandments as expres-sions of God's good pleasure (well enunciated in the first two modes of humility, §§165-166) soas to arrive at a greater recognition of one's failures and the correspond-ing need of forgiveness. The aim is "to keep them [the commandments] better for greater glory and praise of the Divine Majesty" (§240). If anything, the expression Divine Majesty suggests the awesome holiness of God (the mysterium tremendum) and calls for our correspond-ing reverence. To this must be added what may not be so apparent. For Ignatius, the designation "Divine Majesty" also invites devout retreatants' more personal approach to God, resulting from God's winning presence and initiative as mysterium fascinans.S Those who have felt such reality in the Spiritual Exercises are bound to respond with repentance and rev-erential love worthy of our God of majesty of love. The plaintive prayer of the converted soul--"Against you, you alone, have I sinned; O wash me more and more from my guilt and cleanse me from my sin" (Ps 5I:2,4, Grail)mis not for just a moment or occasion. Although the purga-tive way of the First Week leads on to the illuminative way of the Second and the unitive way of the Third and Fourth Weeks, the exercitant is never beyond the purifi-cation that is ever refreshing and re-creative. Indeed, it is those who have experienced the illuminative and unitive ways who appreciate all the more the need to get rid of even the least sin or imperfection. The first method of prayer, with its varied subject matter listed by Ignatius and added to by ourselves, wonderfully meets the never ending need of exercitants who have learned discernment in the Exercises. The first method of prayer is, then, not only "a com-plete examen"6 that keeps exercitants from slipping back; Review for Religious it is also an aid to progress. For example, bringing the five senses to this method, we do not stop with mere examina-tion of ourselves, but go beyond it. Intent on doing some-thing more, we pass on to the imitation of Jesus and his mother in their use of the senses. Ignatius mentions this explicitly. "He thereby recalls the exercitants' attention to their strivings during the last Three Weeks to behold, observe, and contemplate either Christ, the model of all perfections, or those holy persons whose life most faith-fully mirrored Christ's perfections, in order that they may learn from this how to perform all their actions more perfectly, day after day.''7 The Second Method The second method of prayer consists in contemplat-ing the meaning of each word of a familiar prayer such as the Our Father. I wonder if there has been much serious appreciation of the explicit Ignatian directive to conclude all daily examens, meditations, and contemplations in the Exercises with the Our Father. Anyway, those who have been faithful to Ignatius in this small detail will have an occasion now to discover its sense and intrinsic usefulness, and so come to pray it better with greater understanding and relish. In this second method, Ignatius offers a way to find depth in set routine prayer. It happens not by reflecting on but contemplating the meaning (significaci6n) of each word of the Our Father or other vocal prayers used in the triple colloquies. Contemplating the words of a prayer is certainly something new at this point. It consists in opening ourselves to the "meanings, comparisons, relish, and consolations connected with it" (§252). It is a matter of sensing and entering the evocative aura of each word. Coathalem has spoken of this as penetrating, assimilating, and tasting each word.s Though this method is new at this 66.2 2007 Dominic ¯ The Finesse at the Finish of the Exercises 144 point, still it is not unlike what has transpired all through the contemplations of the Exercises as the exercitants lis-tened to the words uttered by the persons in the scene. Anyway, in the second method of prayer, exercitants contemplate as their own words the words of a traditional prayer they know by heart. In their devotion they may go on to recognize and appreciate the words as hallowed because of the hitherto unsuspected personal import they have. They may become sensitive to the human words now bringing them unction from God, along with God's embrace and the grace to give God better service (§15). The words have been given to them by none other than the Spirit (see Rm 8:26). Thus privileged and engrossed, the exercitants make bold at the end to ask for whatever virtues and graces they feel greater need of (§257). This is a colloquy in the usual terminology of the Exercises. But, according to Peters, its purpose and its way are markedly different from the col-loquies mentioned throughout the Exercises. Given the second method of prayer as not only a contemplation but a high contemplation--shown by the person practicing it being called not the exercitant but the "contemplant" or contemplator (persona que contempla, who enjoys devo-tion, relish, and consolation, §§254, 252)9--the needs here are greater than any experienced earlier. Peters argues: "One would think that the exercitant had been taken into the seventh heaven, that he did not lack anything at all. Evidently, at the height of contemplation, he feels more than ever his own insufficiency; he realizes how he falls short in virtue and is in dire need of special help. Close union with God goes hand in hand with a profound sense of one's own unworthiness and even helplessness.''1° In other words, even as we are delighted immensely by the nearness of God, we are distressed by the spec-tacle of our own sinwall the more disturbing because of Review for Religious the .contrast. In this situation, reminiscent of Paul and his visions (see 2 Co 12:2-9), what need could be greater than overcoming the lingering failings that frustrate our desire to be united with God? While experiencing such a need, the praying exercitant descends into silence, and the silence speaks louder, and there is no need for many words. As Peters points out, Ignatius directs the exercitant to ask en pocaspalabras, that is, in a few words (§257). The Third Method The third method of prayer is simply an inward reci-tation of a known prayer, slowly synchronizing each word with one's respiration. Since this method uses the same material for prayer as . the previous one, a natural way to under-stand it suggests itself. .~ The third method is a repetition of the sec-ond, in the spirit of what Ignatius consis-tently advocates for every meditation or contemplation. 11 We come to savor ever more what we have already prayed more than once. The whole exercise unfolds and rests in contemplative peace, poise, and relish. If each word of prayer is uttered with the breath, it rises from silence and ends in greater silence of repose. It is the receptive silence of the human word answering the penetrative silence of the divine Word or Spirit and turning into silence of communion, as when a drop of water falls into a sponge (§335)--that is a simile, coming from the unpoetic St. Ignatius himself. In this way, whatever word keeps us praying and imbibing The third method is a r~etition of the second, in the spirit of what Ignatius consistently advocates for every meditation or contemplation. 66.2 2007 Dominic ¯ The Finesse at the Finish of the Exercises becomes more and more part of ourselves; the very prayer makes a home in those who pray. Whoever prays thus not only prays but becomes the prayer by virtue of one's very breath. Anyone who has reached the stage of the third method of prayer knows how "to join the praying man to the breathing man, or more accurately the other way about: take the breathing man that he is and gently make him into a praying man as well.''12 Whether directing our attention to the word's meaning or the person addressed or our own lowliness (§258), we are inhaling and exhal-ing rapt in contemplation of the divine in and around ourselves. 146 The Three Methods as "Repetitions" The three methods taken together provide three perspectives on the full Exercises. First, they appear as concluding repetitions of the entire month of Exercises. Right from the First Week (§§62&64), Ignatius directs and insists that individual exercises be repeated once or twice or thrice so that the exercitant may reap ever greater fruit from them. The three methods he proposes towards the end of the Exercises may well be viewed as repeti-tions, not of one or another exercise, but of the whole of the Exercises as orie-prolonged prayer experience. If the Exercises as a whole aim at removing all dis-ordered affections and so ordering our life according to God's will, the first method finds its place as a compre-hensive examen. It brings the daily examens to comple-tion, shaping a greater, more sensitive response to what must have been grace upon grace for a month (§238).13 If the subject matter of the second and third methods is mostly the vocal prayers that conclude contemplations of the mysteries of the Son, these methods together certainly provide ready repetitions of the manifold experience of the Second, Third, and Fourth Weeks. Such repetitions Review for Religious will be at once evocative and expansive, delightful and deepening, looking back and looking forward. The Three Methods as "Review" The three methods may be viewed in terms of another typical Ignatian practice too, namely, the review following every meditation or contemplation. As there is no spe-cifically mentioned last exercise in the Exercises, there is no specific reminder to review it. Another closely related fact worth thinking about is that, though there is no specified last exercise, there is a concluding tempo. This tempo may be observed right at the start of the Fourth Week, with the omission of the midnight contemplation and the reduction of the daily exercises from five to four. Whatever happens after the exercises of the resurrection in the Fourth Week definitely concerns the retreat's final days. The lack of detailed direction may well suggest the importance of the very content available for those days. While the Contemplation to attain love revolves round grateful love to the God of all gifts, the three methods of praye~ aim at exciting the same kind of response to God all holy and all loving, in and through Jesus. Viewed thus, they cannot but lead the .exercitants over all they have done in the preceding long period of grace, resulting in an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love. Come to think of it, all who have faithfully reviewed their meditations and contemplations four or five times daily ought to have learned and could not but have learned the dynamism of review for their spiritual practice. And so they are likely to hold on to the same dynamism as, rather reluctantly or not, they finish their retreat. Almost all retreatants, even those who have not been fervent enough all along, would, I believe, wish near the end that the retreat would not end. How much more, then, might the enthusiastic exercitants miss those days of 147 66.2 2007 Dominic ¯ The Finesse at the Finish of the Exercises fervor. But such a feeling is not altogether a true conso-lation, and discerning exercitants would avoid it, sensing that their real consolation is in God and God's pleasure. They know that the period of grace and consolation must end, not abruptly, though, but gradually and gently. In this situation the three methods as review of the whole Exercises can help. To appreciate this, remember that the ordinary reviews of meditation or contemplation during the retreat bring the exercitant slowly from prayerful absorption to the ordinary activities of eating, drinking, resting, and so forth which we cannot do without.~4 Given devout per-sons' absorption in God at the end of the Exercises, there is all the more need for them to pass smoothly from the retreat to ordinary engagement and activity outside the retreat. This very need is filled by the three methods serv-ing as review of the whole course of the Exercises. The Three Methods as Reformation Corresponding to the "gradual lessening of bonds with the four preceding Weeks" evinced by the three methods, there emerges "an ever-increasing occupation with the duties of the exercitant's normal life.''~5 Though St. Ignatius does not say anything so explicit, his entire exercises are directed to that, namely, leaving the retreat and beginning our life anew as we have discerned God inspiring us. The genuine exercitants cannot but be con-cerned positively and negatively about their life after the retreat. Negatively, they may be anxious about the uncertainties of daily life after the peaceful certainty of the Exercises. Positively, they may be zealous to live for the glory of God. In this struggle between leaving Tabor and returning to their trade, the three methods bring a stabilizing sobriety. The first method of prayer helps their still weak selves to remain steadfast. The second and Review for Religious third methods, with their peculiar combination of famil-iar words and a fresh interiorizing of them, sustain and nourish their trustfulness by disposing them to receive the lights and consolations of God's love and grace.16 The conviction grows that the God of the Exercises will be their God after the Exercises. Thus they ready themselves to take up again the humdrum of day-to-day life with the zeal of a contemplative. It should be no surprise if their enchantment with God enhances their enchantment with the world they return to. Passing through the in-between period, the exercitants exercise themselves in faith, hope, and love, not from any nostalgia for the month gone by, but with a simple examination of conscience or with age-old prayers prayed contemplatively,j7 If the main value of whatever is done during the Exercises is "for living a Christian life after the Exercises are completed,''18 as Jules Toner says, this living clearly stems from the Exercises and is confirmed as the retreat's last days and hours run their course. St. Ignatius says something very practical in his directive for the three methods: before entering prayer one should recollect oneself in spirit, either sitting or ambling up and down, and consider where one is going and for what (§239). On the face of it there is nothing special here, but one familiar with the spiritual genius of Ignatius may discover something more. If the instruction here under consideration corresponds to the usual second additional direction (§§74-76 & 131), it nevertheless differs from it in its advocacy of recollection and suggestion of suitable posture (sitting or walking) different, from before. From this, one may suspect that the regularity of the Exercises is giving way to ordinary life, as Peters argues clearly and cleverly before concluding: "The pattern of the Four Weeks has completely gone, and yet the retreat itself con-tinues under totally different circumstances.''j9 There is .149 66.2 2007 Dominic * Tbe Finesse at tbe Finisb of tbe Exercises There can be intense Chris tian !i iyg without constant prayer: I50] no better way of envisaging how one ideally passes from the time of the retreat to the time after, neither needing nor wanting an exit. There are convincing reasons here that retreats last indefinitely, there being no last exercise prescribed as such by St. Ignatius. Since the Exercises train people in profound prayer over a long period, they surely will want to continue it even in, or in spite of, their changed circumstances after-wards. There can be no intense Christian living without constant prayer (see 1 Th 5:17). The third method trains the exercitant in such prayer. If it does not have the pre-ludes of the usual Ignatian meditation or contempla-tion, the reason would seem to be that it is done in the midst of a busy life. It can and ought to be done any-where and anytime for any length of time, directed always by discreet charity. If the prayer of the Exercises has grown all along through a regimen of do's and don'ts, it can now dispense with them all. The contemplatively trained exercitant can rejoice to find God in all circumstances and enter into silent collo-quy as constant as breathing. So, depending on the grace of the moment, the third method can be as simple "as a spirit of recollection floating, as it were, upon the rhythm of one's breathing"; and it can also be--here Peters is per-fect-- as profound as reliving the Exercises "to the extent of their being integrated into the quiet and tranquillity of one's breathing.''2° If earlier the exercitants went by the principle of sensing and savoring much in prayer rather than knowing ever more (§2), now they ought to have arrived at a new principle: "Brief time and bounteous con-solation!" Review for Religious The whole of life after the Exercises may be expressed as continuing the reforming of our life (§189). One may find this confirmed by what St. Ignatius designed for his young men after their noviceship, which included the long retreat. Besides attending Mass, they were to spend no more than an hour in prayer. The prayer was to include first the examen twice a day and next reciting the Office of Our Lady,21 both of which cotild certainly be done fol-lowing the three methods. St. Ignatius writes, echoing St. Thomas Aquinas, "In the midst of actions and studies, the mind can be lifted to God; and by means of this directing everything to the divine service, everything is prayer.''= Obviously for Ignatius formal prayer, like everything else in our life, must be not for itself but for God, as is well expressed in the unchanging preparatory prayer of every exercise (§46). That constitutes the sublime fruit of the Spiritual Exercises. The exercitant desires to persevere in it after the Exercises. For this the single-minded exercitant needs noth-ing more than the three methods of praying that are at once simple and sublime. When no surprise sublimity of the Spirit is manifestly active, we are to be content with the ready-made prayer that the vocal prayers are, know-ing that they come to our breath because of the Spirit's breathing in us. The Ending Finesse The three methods are perhaps like the performance of the circus artiste Philippe Petit. He had walked on a high wire between the towers of the World Trade Center in August 1974. Some time afterwards, on a much lower high wire between two "towers" in a circus in New Haven, Philippe walked and jumped and danced playfully, mak-ing it look easy. But more surprising was the ending. He began walking down a wire from one of the towers to the 151 66.2 2007 Do~ninic * The Finesse at the Finish of the Exercises ground. This was not easy. "Attention as well as tension grew and all kept their eyes on his outstretched arms. Everyone was so engrossed in his act that no one real-ized that for five seconds Philippe had been walking on the safe floor. Only after he himself looked down to the floor with a puzzled face and then up to the stands with happily surprised eyes did the tension break and everyone explode into roaring applause.''23 The applause seemed to be no less for walking on the circus floor than performing on the high wire--no less than when we managed to walk for the first time. If the thirty-day retreat is a feat, its success lies in making the days following it no less a feat and a feast to boot. The three methods help in accomplishing this. Notes ' Pico Iyer to a columnist. See Pradeep Sebastian, "In Autumn Radiance," The Hindu Literary Review, 5 November 2006, p. 6. 2 Such numbers in parentheses refer to the paragraph numbers in The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius. 3 See Martin E. Palmer, On Giving the Spiritual Exercises: The Early Manuscript Directories and the Official Directory of l Y99 (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1996), p. 126 (emphasis added). 4 See Gilles Cusson, Biblical Theology and the Spiritual Exercises (Anand: Gujarat Sahitya Prakash, 1988), pp. 155-156, 327-330. 5 See William A.M. Pet~s, The Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius: Exposition and Interprdtat~on (Rome: CIS, 1980), pp. 51-52. 6 Jos~ Calveras, Th~ Harvest-Field of the Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius (Bombay: St. Xavier's College, 1949), p. 251. 7 Calveras, Harvest-Field, p. 252 (with a change of singular to plu-ral). 8 See Herv~ Coathalem, Ignatian Insights (Taichung, Taiwan: Kuangchi Press, 1971), p. 235. 9 This does not appear so clearly in English translations: The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius by George E. Ganss (Anand: Gujarat Sahitya Prakash, 1993) or by Louis J. Puhl (Bombay: St Paul Publications, 1965). ,0 Peters, Exercises: Exposition, p. 175. Review for Religious ~t See Calveras, Harvest-Field, p. 248. ~2 Peters, Exercises: Exposition, p. 177. 13 Taking the cue from the comment of Calveras as found in Ganss, Spiritual Exercises, p. 186, n. 127. t4 See Peters, Exercises: Exposition, pp. 41-42, 178. ,s Peters, Exercises: Exposition, p. 179 (though he excludes the first method here). 16 See Calveras, Harvest-Field, pp. 245,249. 17 See Calveras, Harvest-Field, pp. 245-246. ~8 Jules J. Toner, A Commentary on St. Ignatius' Rules for the Discernment of Spirits (Anand: GSP, 1982), p. 39. 19 Peters, Exercises: Exposition, p. 172. 20 Peters, Exercises: Exposition, p. 179. 21 See The Constitutions of the Society of Jesus, trans. George E. Ganss (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1970), §342. 22 See Constitutions, trans. Ganss, p. 183, n. 4. ,3 Henri J.M. Nouwen, Donald P. McNeill, and Douglas A. Morrison, Compassion (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, 1982), p. 77. In Impressione Ss. Stigmatum S. Francisci wings and wood, fire and air and the pain goes right through it is harder to bear, Francis told a brother, "than any martyrdom. I am not speaking of the reward, but only of the intensity of suffering it causes" (Thomas of Celano, Vita Prima S. Francisci, ii, 7). love into blood, blood into love and the pain goes right through Sean Kinsella 66.2 2007 DAVID L. FLEMING "Here I Am": Ignatian Ways of Serving 1541 One of the key phrases capturing the charism of Ignatian spirituality is "to love and to serve in all things." In Ignatius's Spanish it reads "en todo amary ser-vir." The phrase is used in describing the grace we pray for in the prayer exercise the Contemplation on the Love of God, the final exercise within the Spiritual Exercises. Ignatius lets us know how he is considering the verb, to love, by his prenote of two points in this exercise. He tells us that love is shown more in deeds than in words in the first point. Then in the second point he says that people in love share what each has with the other. The Ignatian Spanish word we translate in English as "to share" is comunicar. And so in a paradoxical way, though Ignatius does say deeds express true love more than words, he goes on to say that what lovers do for each other speaks or communicates love. David L. Fleming SJ delivered this presentation as a keynote address for the first Ignatian Spirituality Conference for Asia, held in Hong Kong from November 24 to 27, 2006, with the theme "Finding God in the 21st Century." His address is 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, Missouri 63 I08. Revie'w for Religious Although Ignatius helps us in some way to appreciate his understanding of to love, I do not find him as helpful in letting us know what he might mean by to serve. It is true that we find some thirty-nine uses of the words ser-vice or to serve in the Exercises, but we do not find a kind of definition. If we can cite some seventy times a form of the word service being used in the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus, we still are left to imagine what the word itself means for Ignatius. I want to explore with you this notion of Ignatian service. Ignatius the Mystic Ignatius Loyola is numbered among the great Spanish mystics of the 16th century. Although he did not reflect in writing on his mystical experiences in the way that Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross did, Ignatius takes his place with his own spiritual legacy alongside these two great Carmelite mystics. A most important mystical experience for an under-standing of Ignatian spirituality happens to Ignatius in 1537 as he is journeying to Rome with his companions in order that they might offer themselves to the pope for his missioning. Ignatius makes reference to this vision in his Autobiography §96, but he does not expand on it. He makes even a more passing reference to it in his Spiritual Diary when he writes, "i recalled the day when the Father placed me with the Son" (§22, 23 February 1544). At a shrine at La Storta, Ignatius received an extraordinary response to his novena-like prayer to Mary, "Place me with your Son." Ignatius describes his experience in these words: "He experienced such a change in his soul and saw so clearly that God the Father placed him with Christ his Son that he would not dare doubt it--that God the Father had placed him with his Son." In the "seeing" (Ignatius's 155 66.2 2007 Fleming ¯ "Here I Am": Ignatian Ways of Serving vision), Jesus was carrying his cross. The Father addresses Ignatius and says, "I shall be favorable to you at Rome." Then the Father turns tO Jesus, who is carrying his cross, . and makes this request: "I want you to take this man to serve us." Jesus, with his cross in hand, looks at Ignatius and says, "We want you to serve us." The vision is an obvious answer to Ignatius's prayer to Mary. He is con-firmed in his being placed with Jesus. But the placement is made with Jesus in action--Jesus carrying his cross. This vision becomes an icon of Ignatian spirituality. The vision is about Ignatian service. A Spirituality of Service Ignatian spirituality, always identified as an active spirituality, finds expression in the phrase "to serve." Many commentators on Ignatius have noted that the you in Jesus' invitation to Ignatius "We want you to serve us" is plural. You would ~opnras~s~'-e~' --- e~"~-e . seem to point not only in . 0" roe,. '~i to Ignatius but also to all the people who find life in Ignatian spiritu-ality. As we try to live Ignatian spirituality, we want to be a people who serve. We are moved, then, to ask what does service or to serve mean in Ignatian spirituality? Does Ignatius help us to understand what service might include? Is it confined to tasks performed or work accomplished? Is service always about a project or jobs? Is service restricted to certain kinds of actions or deeds? I am suggesting that we might follow Ignatius in some of his experiences as recorded in his Autobiography to see a R~iew for Religious development in his own life about what it means to serve. Then we might return to the Exercises themselves tO see how Ignatius incorporates an openness to God's invitation to serve the Kingdom. Ignatius's Experience The young Ignatius was a man of great ambition. He was one who could dream of doing great deeds, being recognized for signal service in the service of a king, and perhaps by glorious accomplishments he might win the hand of a noble lady. The cannonball in the siege of the city Pamplona by the French forces against the Spanish shattered not only Ignatius's leg but also his dreams. During his long recovery at the family castle of Loyola, he had only two books--a Life of Christ by Ludolph of Saxony and the legendary .tales about many saints by Voragine--to fill his reading time. But through these two books Ignatius's dreams returned, only to be fired by the challenge to do glorious deeds like the saints, glorious deeds in the service of Christ, his king. Although service was still caught up in glorious deeds and accomplishments, Ignatius also found himself listening to the still, small voice of God calling within him. Little by little, he began to pay attention to the different spirits that stirred inside him, some leaving him to feel sad and desolate and others giving him joy. He began to under-stand a language of God through a process of. discerning these spirits. He would spend long hours gazing at the stars in the skry, and felt within himself a great drawing to serve the Lord. In the midst of his dreams, he asked him-self what was it that he really desired to do. As an answer, Ignatius felt that the content of his dreaming was to be a pilgrim, one going to the Holy Land where Jesus lived. Ignatius at this time represents all those first aposdes called by Jesus in the Gospels. He is like the fishermen 66.2 2007 Fleming ¯ "Here I Am": Ignatian Ways of Serving Peter and Andrew, James and John, and like the tax collec-tor Matthew, who heard Jesus say "follow" and they did. A!though Ignatius still harbored his idea of great deeds, at this moment of recovery at Loyola castle, he knew only that he wanted to follow Jesus, and somehow this follow-ing seemed to lead him to the land called "holy" because Jesus was born and died there. He wanted to be identified with Jesus. That would be service enough, and perhaps he could help souls. "Following" is a way of serving. But it is not so much our doing some deeds as it is an active passivity on our part, just to let someone take the lead and we come behind. But, for the apostles in the Gospels and for Ignatius at Loyola, the first form of his newfound service of Jesus is just to follow, wherever he may lead. Manresa becomes another stage in Ignatius's growth in understanding service. At Manresa, through a long and sometimes zigzag forming by the grace of God, Ignatius becomes available, available to go wherever God may lead him. At Manresa, Ignatius was initially self-determining his way of serving Christ. He set himself some seven hours of prayer each day. He fixed on his way of getting God's grace by a total fast. A major temptation was phrased in the question: How will you be able to endure this life for the seventy years you have to live (Auto §20)? When he was beset by debilitating scruples, he correctly took all the human means he could to rid himself of them. But finally he had to cry. out to God for help only God could give. In a dramatic image of being a child, Ignatius tells God that however God wants to work with him, he, a grown man, would chase after a puppy dog if that is how God would give him a healing remedy (Auto §23). Immediately he reflects that God was at this time treating him like a schoolmaster with a pupil. Why was God teaching him Review for Religious this way, he asks. Because of the strong desire that God himself had given him to serve him (Auto §27). Manresa became the schoolhouse where Ignatius began to learn that serving is not focused on our own predetermined efforts. To serve God means first of all to be available to God's direction and grace. God is the master, the teacher, and we are the disciples, the learners. To bring home the fact that God is the director, Ignatius recounts five special mysti-cal experiences--all of them pointing towards an under-standing or grasp of the deepest of faith realities: God of serving Christ. as Trinity, creation as worked by God, the Eucharistic presence of Jesus, Christ and Mary in their holy human-ness, and finally insights into spiritual matters as well as matters of faith and scholarship (Auto §§28-30). God was making Ignatius his disciple, a person available to God. For Ignatius, to be available is to serve. He would reflect this stance particularly in the attitude of the third class of people in the exercise "The Three Types of People," in the Exercises. As Ignatius moves to the next phase--the pilgrimage to Jerusalem--he opens another door which leads to a notion of serving. He discovers through many experiences of being the pilgrim that a way of serving comes from faith--believing and trusting. Whether it be with the use of money (prudently having some or not), or with the choice of boat (going with the bigger and better outfitted one or not), or with weather at sea (cold and stormy or beset by pirate ships), or with church authority (allowing or not allowing his stay in Jerusalem), Ignatius came to a realization that believing God and believing in God and Ignatius was initially self-determining his way 66.2 2007 Fleming ¯ "Here I Am". Ignatian Ways of Serving trusting God and trusting in God was to serve God. This understanding of seryi.'ng is reflected in Ignatius's contem-plative approach to the Gospels. When Ignatius determines that studies were impor-tant for carrying out his desire to serve God and others, he slowly moves to another stage of serving. Although it is at Salamanca that he evidences his desire to have companions with him in service, the realization of this desire will have its fruition during the time of his stud-ies in Paris. There it was that Francis Xavier and Peter Faber and four others form the nucleus of the "friends in the Lord." Whether it is the call of Christ coming to every person to be with and to work with Christ reflected in the Call of the King exercise in the Spiritual Exercises that inspires Ignatius to seek to serve in relationship with others, we can only infer. ¯ But, whatever the stimulus, we see another stage in Ignatius's own growth in understanding and practicing service. To serve is to be in relationship with others. It is to accompany and to be accompanied. This is the root foundation for the Company of Jesus, the Jesuits, ones who call themselves companions of Christ and so companions with one another. The service of the Society of Jesus mirrors always men-in-companionship, not the individual aposde. Ignatian service historically is people working together because of their working with Christ. I believe that Ignatius's growth in understanding ser-vice came out of his experiences which we have pointed out through the citing of certain incidents recorded in his Autobiography. Ignatius reflected upon his experience in terms of being helpful to others, and the result was his writing of the Spiritual Exercises. The Exercises, then, I believe, become a summation of what Ignatian service is. Let us look more closely at the Exercises. Review for Religious The Evidence from the Exercises What Ignatius discovered and what he hands on to us is that God is the One who first serves. This is the vision that Ignatius shares with us in the Principle and Foundation and in the Contemplation on the Love of God. Ignatius begins his Principle and Foundation state-ment with the catechism-like answer to the unspoken question "why did God make us?" Ignatius writes: God creates human beings to praise, reverence, and serve God, and thereby save their souls. Ignatius goes on to say that God gifts human beings with all their personal talents and presents everything in creation as gifts to help them to come to know, love, and serve God. Our human response is to choose among the many gifts which ones help us in our direction towards life-with-God forever. God is the first to serve us by gifting us with an abundance of gifts so that we can make the choice among them which ones better help us seek and find God. Ignatius makes his approach eminently clear in the final exercise, the Contemplation on the Love of God-- what I call the "other bookend" of the Exercises similar to the Principle and Foundation. We are praying for the grace to be empowered to love and to serve in all the .ways that God does. All four points outlined by Ignatius are pictures of God serving us. Of course, by his prenote on love, Ignatius has prepared us to see that God shows his love in deeds--in all the ways that God continues to serve us. These deeds, these giftings, speak out and com-municate to us how much God loves us. In loving us, God is the first to serve. As directors, not as first-time retreatants, we are aware that the vision pieces that mark the beginning and end of the full Spiritual Exercises are about a God who gifts, a God who loves, and a God who serves. In every way God communicates his love for us and so serves us. If God 161 66.2 2007 Fleming ¯ "Here I Am": Ignatian Ways of Serving is the first to serve, then how better can we learn what service means than by perceiving all the ways that God communicates his love for us by his deeds--all of which are meant to speak. Just as there has been a tradition of the four points of the Contemplation on the Love of God being a rtsum6 of the Four Weeks of the Exercises, so we might review some aspects of the Four Weeks to obtain, perhaps, a better grasp of how God serves, with the result that we might learn to serve. I am selecting a few key images that speak of ways of serving. In the First Week, we might turn our eyes to Jesus nailed to the cross as we are asked to image him in the colloquy in the first exercise. When we are caught in wonder that Jesus, being the Word made flesh, the Word in whom all things are created, is being crucified, we are open to hearing his response to us as a part of our prayer conversation. Jesus would tell us that his hanging on the cross is a way of his serving. Moved by love of God his Father and focused in his love for each of us, his brothers and sisters, he gives himself over to us, holding noth-ing back, even allowing us to put him to death. Sin in our lives is the way that we keep trying to pot him to death. But Jesus waits for us, Jesus' arms are held wide to embrace us, Jesus offers us his forgiveness. How does Jesus (God) serve us? Jesus serves us by his patience, by his ever-present welcome, by his words of forgiveness. Jesus loves and so he serves. In the Second Week, we might look at and listen to Christ issuing his call to every man, woman, and child today. The exercise is called the Call of the King. This is the risen Christ, the one who is still busy about the king-dom to come. This Jesus personally invites each one of us to be with him and to work with him. God's kingdom will come, the victory is assured in Jesus' resurrection, Review for Religious and life forever with God is our realizable goal. How does Jesus (God) serve us? Jesus serves us by calling us to an intimacy with him, but being with Jesus is not enough. Jesus serves us by asking us to work alongside him as together we serve the kingdom. Jesus loves us so much that he wants us to be _~ right alongside him as we act together in our work for the kingdom. Just as Jesus' being caught up in love of God his Father has him serving just by being with him, so too our being with Jesus models this divine intimacy--essential to all other forms of serving. In our eagerness to work as our form of ser-vice, we often forget that service of God demands a loving relationship with God. In the Third Week, we are struck by the first exercise as imaging service in a special way. In his points for the Last Supper contemplation, Ignatius highlights the pas-chal meal context, the washing of the disciples' feet by Jesus, and the Eucharist as the greatest mark of his love. The paschal meal is a liturgical context in which Jesus, known as the Lamb of God, will bring to a fulfillment the Mosaic celebration so that it becomes a celebration of a new covenant "in my blood." Jesus serves us by entering us into the liturgical celebration of the covenant between God and humankind. Celebrating liturgy, then, is a way of serving. In washing his disciples' feet, Jesus clearly identifies himself as teacher and wants to expand their understand-ing. He wants, above all, to broaden their understanding of what it means to serve. Jesus is not asking them to fix their attention on one action of a good deed done to We often forget that service of God demands a loving relationship with God. 163 66.2 20O7 Fleming * "Here I Am": Ignatian Ways of Serving understand service. He has them first of all reflect on the One who serves. Created in God's image, just like the eternal Son, our very being is realized in our being people who serve. In challenging their understanding, Jesus is exploding whatever restrictions these first apostles and then all of us later ones humanly use to limit our notion of service. When Jesus institutes the Eucharist as the greatest mark of his love, Jesus again shows his love by his deed. The Eucharist is the ever-making-present total gift of self that the risen Jesus continuously makes to his Father and to us. The actuality of the event of the cross, limited in time and in space, receives its "now" reality and meaning in every celebration of the Eucharist--the greatest mark of Jesus' love. Jesus is forever giving over himself to us. Jesus shows us that service is embedded in surrender, a giving over of self, with nothing ever held back. In the Fourth Week, once again it is the first exercise that is most suggestive of our drinking in ways of serving. The first exercise is the appearance of the risen Jesus to Mary, his mother. Ignatius dismisses the fact that there is no scripture passage to support this contemplation by claiming that Scripture says that there are other appear-ances and that we have understanding. By having us con-template the risen J~sus appearing to his mother, Ignatius brings home to us the newness of the risen life and the change in relationship that it necessarily entails. Jesus' intimacy with Mary his mother, before his resurrection at a level incomprehensible to us, is taken to another, wholly unimaginable, level at this resurrection time. This Jesus, whose risen body knows no natural, physical boundar-ies, meets his mother in an intimacy that can only be described with explosive joy. Jesus shares with his mother the joy of the resurrection as his way of se]'ving. Mary, then, becomes our key to something of the newness of Review for Religious our relationship with the risen Jesus. We experience Jesus' way of serving us sometimes by this gift of joy, at other times by his gift of consolation. In joy and in consolation, we feel a oneness with the Lord that leaves us faltering in our language to describe our experience. This brings us back to our two "bookends" of the Exercises, the Principle and Foundation and the Contemplation on the Love of God. We realize now more fully that the phrase "to love and to serve in all things" has a necessary proper sequence. To love comes before to serve. With Ignatian insight, loving always is the root and foundation of serving. If we love, then we will be serving people. Ignatius sees that God loves, and so God is the first to serve. As he has experienced God in his own life, he has come to a wholly new way of under-standing service--a transformation of the great deeds and accomplishments that made up so much of his dreams. God has taught him, and now he knows that by drinking in God's actions, by watching Jesus in the Gospels, he has expanded his notion of service and has taken in its breadth, its length, its height, and its depth. Ignatius writes into the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus the richness of this understanding of service. Some would complain that the Jesuit order has little specifica- ¯ tion for its mission. Although the Formula of the Institute (like the basic Rule of a religious order) does describe the mission of the Jesuits, we Jesuits must confess that it does not so much restrict our activities as open up many doors to the needs of our world. The Key of Helping A part of Ignatius's first insight into the service of following Christ never left him. The Spanish verb ayu-dar, meaning to help, is the kernel of all Ignatian service. Ignatius always wanted "to help souls." His Exercises 66.2 2007 Fleming ¯ "Here I Am": Ignatian Ways of Serving are written to be a help first for the director and then through the director for the retreatant. Consistently Ignatius urges the director of the retreat to use or not use material on the basis of whether it is "helpful" for the one making the retreat. In terms of the special vow of obedience of the professed Jesuit, the mission was to be determined by the pope, who saw where the need was greatest and, as a result, the Jesuits could be of greater "help." "To help" is hardly an exalted notion of service. It does not conjure up great deeds and accomplishments. But it is a way of serving as God serves. What have we learned about Ignatian service? First, by looking at God, who is the first to serve, we begin to learn about service. Second, from God, we learn that love is the foundation and love is the stimulus for ser-vice. Love is expressed in deeds--in acts of service--more than in words. And yet our service should speak out and communicate the love that is at its source. Third, service cannot be restricted to certain actions or deeds, to certain results or accomplishments. From Jesus and the Gospels, we learn that to follow is to serve, to be available is to serve, to believe and to trust is to serve, to accompany is to serve, to forgive and to be compassionate is to serve, and to celebrate the Eucharist is to serve. We also learn to serve is always to share what we have been given. That is why serving always follows upon loving--because lovers share their gifts. After our explorations of this idea of service, we find that Ignatius again leads us to the grace that we prayed for in the Contemplation on the Love of God. We pray for the grace that we might be empowered "to love and to serve in everything," "en todo amary servir." Our ways of serving will be as rich and deep as our ways of loving. We are acting with God. We are God's servants. We stand ready and willing. We say: Here I am. I want to serve. Review for Religious Reflection Questions 1. How do I define or describe what it means to serve as a Christian? Do I find myself making changes in my thinking as I reflect on the Ignatian ways of serving? 2. "God is the first to serve." What has been my experience of God serving me? Prayer Mantra Lord, teach me to be generous. Teach me to serve you as you deserve. The Christ of Psalm 19 Champion. Waking to his strength and the morning's grace he seizes the radiant sun as it sets out on its way, and runs, runs and leaps, clasping it joyously to his breast. The light f!lls him, glows from his hands, haloes his footsteps, shines in his exultant laughter. Climbing, bounding across the sky, he spreads lavishly the beneficent light to mirror his heart's fire. Kate Martin OSC 66.2 2007 experiencing prayer RICK MALLOY Prayer Is a Risk ¯ 168] At a community meeting when I was a Jesuit nov-ice, someone asked our provincial about the big-gest problem he faced. His blunt answer startled me: "Jesuits not praying." As novices, our lives were so structured that not praying was impos-sible. After the novitiate I learned, painfully at times, that the demands of the apostolic works easily crowd out the time for prayer (although I always seem to find the ten minutes to catch Jay Leno's monologue). Why is it so difficult to engage in prayer, contemplative prayer? We know that many people pray, that prayer is something we as Catholic Christians ought to do, and we hear that prayer can change things. But many of us are conflicted and confused when we go to pray. Does God really respond to our prayers? Does God really listen to, or care about, what we say? If we prayed some other way, or Rick Malloy sJ is professor of anthropology at St. Joseph's University; 261City Avenue; Merion Station, Pennsylvania 19066. Review for Religious prayed more regularly and faithfully, would we be better people? Can our praying make the world a better place? In our age, which tends to elevate activism to ethereal heights, would our time not be better spent serving the poor or doing something for somebody in need? Would God not be interested more in our doing something "worthwhile" than in our sitting in silence and trying not to pay attention to the random thoughts rumbling end-lessly around in our heads? And when we get right down to it, do we all not ask ourselves sometimes, "Does prayer really work? Does prayer really do anything?" The way to move forward and avoid getting lost in the flurries such questions generate is to realize that prayer is a risk. There is no science of prayer. Just as you cannot prove sci-entifically the worth or effects of real love, the day in and day out lov-ing and caring and living with other persons, you cannot prove the worth of prayer, the practice of paying attention to God day in, day out. If we could prove prayer's value scientifically, it would not be prayer. Pyayer is a risk because it is a lifelong, life-changing act of faith. The word "believe" comes from the German belieben, meaning "to belove." Prayer is all about the risks involved in loving. Much of our reluctance and resistance to pray is in our fear that God might really respond to us. On one hand, we fear God will not take us seriously. On the other hand, we are afraid that God may take us very seriously, as seriously as we take ourselves and our loved ones. Prayer is a risk because the God who calls us to conversion and Much of our reluctance and resistance to pray is in our fear that God might really respond to us. !169 66.2 2007 Malloy ¯ Prayer Is a Risk 1701 change takes us up on the invitation to get involved in our lives. VChen that happens the adventure begins. To be Catholic is to be aware of our call to great trans-formations, transforming us over our lifetime into persons incorporated into the reality of God--the promise made to us all, that we may "come to share in the divine nature" (2 P 1:4, NAB). Our personal transformations are part of larger cosmic processes: the transformation of all human history and all creation (Rm 8:21) into the coming king-dom of God, where God will be "all in all" (1 Co 15:28). Right at the beginning of Lumen gentium, the great docu-ment of Vatican Council II that describes what the church is and ought to be, we are told what Catholicism is all about. God's plan is "to dignify men and women with a participation in his own divine life" (LG §2). This is not some radical, unorthodox, crazy, Jesuit spin on spirituality. Back in the early days of the church, St. Athanasius said the same thing I am saying here: "For the Son of God became man so that we might become God" (Catechism of the Catholic Church, §460). Prayer makes us aware of, and committed to, this transformation in Christ. Risk comes in refusing to cooperate in the offered transforma-tions. There is also risk in yielding to the transformation, freely accepting who and what God is making of us and our lives. Prayer Is Relational. MI prayer is relational. By pray-ing, we relate to God, our God who loves us passionately, consistently, challengingly. When we truly relate to any-one we love, we may be called to change. The parent who loves a child suffering from cystic fibrosis changes in many ways. The son or daughter loving an aging mother or father makes many unexpected life changes. Such changes always call us to deeper, more active love. Knowing that extreme poverty in Africa can be alleviated changes one who prays about it. Witness Bono and the ONE campaign Review for Religious to eradicate extreme poverty (www.one.org). When we pray we risk changing and being changed. Prayer may make us know that we need to change. Prayer may make us able to change things, from addictions to relationships to social problems. Prayer may make us willing and able to do something for God and others we never imagined doing. Prayer is relational because we relate to God on both personal and communal levels of reality. We never pray alone. Always, and in all ways, we ourselves and someone else are involved. As soon as we try to pray, God takes us up on our effort. Prayer is neither a competition nor a goal-oriented activity. To try to pray is to already have "won." Prayer is much _ __ more like making love, or hitting a baseball, or learning to play a musical instrument (even loudly and badly) than it is like getting a promotion, or achieving a goal, or mas-tering a skill. Prayer is more like floating on water than paddling strenuously to get somewhere. Prayer is more "letting go" than "holding on." Prayer is a journey on which we are simply "there" while paradoxically always being "on the road." Prayer is allowing our lives to be har-monized. Prayer is getting our lives and loves in order, and prayer is inviting God's ordering of our loves and lives. We are all being divinized. Pray-ers know this truth. To be aware of and cooperate with divinization takes work. Real prayer is work; it is spirituality that is disciplined as Catholicism is disciplined. We find ourselves recognizing that consolation is not always comfortable, and desolation is not always disagreeable. Being disciplined about prayer is essential and beneficial just as regular physical exercise Prayer is the effort to consciously experience God. 171 66.2 2007 Malloy ¯ Prayer Is a Risk 172 gets and keeps our bodies in shape. The more in shape we are spiritually, the more we are likely to realize and recog-nize God in our lives. Prayer is the effort to consciously experience God. Praying is consciously paying attention to the central relationships of our lives, with ourselves, with others, and with God. Our relationship with God is the one that makes all these other relationships possible. With conscious attention to our relationship with God, we find whispers of God's presence in the other relation-ships of our lives. We speak to God in prayer, and the word God speaks back is our life. Prayer is paying attention to what is really real. Prayer is not just finding God in all things. It is more than that. Prayer is seeking God in all realities, realities that were, are, and are to come. Our heart's awareness of God and God's ways of divinizing is evident in how we make choices. At the moral level, prayer leads us to wisdom and cor-rec~ choosing. When I was a little kid, in wintertime my mother used to dress us up in those bulky blue snowsuits that made us look like midget Michelin men. She would let me and my siblings out along with the dog. As soon as I was out in the snow, I would reach down and grab a mittenful of the cold, delicious snow and begin to eat. My mom would yell, "Ricky, don't eat the yellow snow!" Prayer is learning what is, and is not, "yellow snow." What is not good for us is whatever frustrates and foils our trans-formation in Christ. For serious pray-ers, life becomes a series of exercises for discerning in God what we truly and deeply desire. Such holy desires reveal God's will for us, and prayer, mediates the grace that helps us choose what we deeply desire and thus make the right choices. Prayer, practiced regularly and faithfully, can become the pivotal center of our daily lives, keeping us on plan and focused. Prayer, even engaged in sporadically and Review for Religious frenetically, is valuable. Annie Lamott, one of the most refreshing if iconoclastic contemporary writers on prayer, says the two best prayers are "Thank you" and "Help." How to Pray. Prayer does not have to be elaborate to be the stream carrying us through life to life eternal. There are many ways of praying: prayers of petition (probably the most common form of prayer), Mass each day, the Liturgy of the Hours, daily spiritual reading, sys-tematically and slowly working one's way through various books of the Bible, reading beforehand the readings for the upcoming Sunday, the rosary, Eucharistic adoration, the utterly simple practice of centering prayer. These are all valid ways to pray. Prayer groups are helpful for many people. Choose freely what you find agreeable. No one stays with a prayer practice they find tedious and frus-trating. Experiment with unconventional methods that make use of and stimulate the imagination. See a movie with Jesus, write someone a letter while in prayer mode, create a dialogue with the Holy Spirit, draw pictures for God. The imagination is the arena where we can often most powerfully experience God. Ignatian contemplation of gospel scenes is a tried and true example of using our graced imagination in prayer. Prayer Guides. Many have traversed the paths through the forest of prayer. Do not feel you have to reinve'nt the wheel. For the beginner, Jesuit Mark Thibodeaux's Armchair Mystic is an excellent book. Pushing Jesuit works on prayer may seem too much like I am pushing the fam-ily business, but anyone who knows about free and flee-ing spirituality will agree that anything by Tony DeMello sJ is worth reading and pondering. Franciscan Richard Rohr's amazingly brief and deceptively simple Everything Belongs is the best book on prayer I have ever read. Rohr orients the 2 lst-century person to what prayer is and can be. The Cloud of Unknowing is a classic on prayer and is 66.2 2007 Malloy * Prayer Is a Risk 174 the inspiration for the contemporary Trappist method of Centering Prayer. Annie Lamott's Traveling Mercies is a wild zany take on everything from prayer to writing to parenting to eating disorders. Kurtz and Ketcham's Spirituality of Imperfection is a real jewel. There are many more good books one can read. Magazines like America and Commonweal are excellent sources and guides for spir-itual reading. The Internet, where so many young adults spend their reading time, offers great sites like the Irish Jesuits' "Sacred Space" (http://www.sacredspace.ie) to ori-ent you in prayer. What Does Prayer Do? Ultimately the practice of real and consistent prayer changes our desires. When we find ourselves wanting what God wants, we are in right relationship with God, and that is the experience of jus-tice on the personal level. Prayer practiced over time will lead us through the process that the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius aim to elicit. Prayer will free us from, free us for, and free us to be with. This means free from all that frustrates our transformation in Christ, from addictions to personality faults; free for service and the righting of relationships on many levels, which ultimately denotes social justice for all; free to be with God as the Holy Spirit transforms us in Christ, and thus free to be our deepest, truest selves in relation with others. Real prayer is about deep transformation and everyday mysticism; it is not some kind of magic or tawdry grace. Prayer does not do anything if we do not pray. I go to the gym three times a week, once a year. The results, or lack thereof, are rather predictable. Regular, consistent, committed prayer is worth the effort, but we never know it until we do it. That means going ahead and taking the risk. Then we can authentically urge others to follow our example. Review for Religious Reflection Questions for Personal and Group Use 1. In view of the title of this article, do I feel that I am risking anything when I pray? 2. What has been the most helpful insight about praying that Malloy has offered to me? 3. In trying to help another person in their prayer life, what two or three points would I want to share? Ubi est mors victoria tua? (1 Corinthians 15:55) Who is this jealous Lover, leaving to any Shylock his pound or two of.flesh, but coming himself and claiming ALL? Who, this unknown Knower, sounding the yearning depths of hearts that run, pursued, from that Encounter (frightful!) which ends at some strange Jacob's-ladder dream (or game)? See: the brand burns deep! No doubts remain; the claim is made; the stake is driven. Take, Lord, receive. (What did Ignatius say?) All is yours, now. Agnes Cunningham SSCM 175" 66.2 2007 JAMES W. KINN Beginning Contemplation according to John of the Cross 176 SDt. John of the Cross deserves the title Mystical octor. His writings are profound and original. He is without parallel in his rich content and brilliant teach-ing on the mystical life. To many, however, his writings seem almost opaque. They include tedious repetitions, disproportionate emphases, misplaced material, unwieldy sentences, and imprecise language. For example, John often speaks of "this night" without specifying the active night of sense, the active night of spirit, the passive night of sense, or the passive night of spirit. We can determine what night he means only by careful study of the con-text. Spiritual writers who interpret John often confuse his meaning instead of clarifying it because they mix the nights indiscriminately. The focus of this article is quite narrow: it centers on John's description of the beginning of contemplation. James W. Kinn is a retired priest of the Chicago Archdiocese. This article is a further development of his book Contemplation 2000: St John of the Cross for Today (Saint Bede's Publications, 1997). He can be addressed 6318 243rd Court; Salem, Wisconsin 53168. . Review for Religious First we will try to clarify his mystical teaching on the dark night as the actual beginning of infused contempla-tion. Then we will describe his practical advice for pray-ing this way. John treats this beginning of contemplation especially in his Dark Night, Books I and II. Spiritual writers agree with John of the Cross about the general description of contemplative prayer. They see contemplation as an integral -- development of prayer. That is, ¯ mental prayer exhibits a natu-ral progression from discursive mental prayer to more affective prayer to simpler prayei" and then to more passive prayer, in which God takes over our prayer in contemplation. Writers agree that the beginning of contemplation is generally dark and gentle; the first experiences are so subtle and tenuous that we hardly know what is occurring. Writers also agree with John on the three essential characteristics of infused contemplation: (1) in contem-plation we have some vague experience of God as present within us; (2) this direct contact with God is general and dark in the beginning; it is not accompanied by images or distinct notions, but consists of a simple and dark intuition; (3) we receive the experience passively, not as a result of our own efforts. We cannot obtain it, retain it, or recall it. We no longer meditate by means of ideas, images, or affections. John's Teaching on the Beginning of Contemplation The Dark Night, Book I, is titled "a treatise on the passive night of the senses." John says, "this dark night signifies . . . purgative contemplation.''l The memory, understanding, and will are dark and empty. That is, just as actual night leaves our eyes dark and unable to func- 177 66.2 2007 Kinn ¯ Beginning Contemplation according to John of the Cross tion, so dark contemplation leaves our memory, under-standing, and will dark and unable to function. And John calls this the night of the senses because "at this time God does not communicate himself through the senses as he did before . . . but begins to communicate himself through pure spirit by an act of simple contemplation, in which there is no discursive succession of thought.''2 This night of the senses consists essentially in our inability to meditate, becaus~.e all our natural faculties (memory, intellect, wi!l.,.-affections) are now darkened. This very inabilityAs'the necessary condition for the new form of prayer that God is beginning to bestow. John insists that this new way of prayer is properly called con-templation: A person should not mind if the operations of his fac-ulties are being lost to him; he ought to desire rather that this be done quickly so that he may be no obstacle to the operation of the infused contemplation which God is bestowing., and make room in his spirit for the enkindling and burning of love that this dark and secret contemplation bears and communicates to his soul. For contemplation is .nothing else than a secret and peaceful and loving inflow of God) John wants us to know that this dark prayer is actually the beginning of contemplation: This food is the beginning of a contemplation that is dark and dry to the senses . Now in this state of contemplation, when the soul has left discursive medi-tation and entered the state of proficients, it is God who works in it .At this time a person's own efforts are of no avail.4 That is, this prayer is not just a period of transition between meditation and contemplation nor a proximate prepara-tion for contemplation; rather it is the very beginning of contemplation: "At the time of the aridities of this sensory night, God [withdraws] the soul from the life of the senses Review for Religious and [places] it in that of the spirit that is, he brings it from meditation to contemplation--where the soul no longer has the power to work or meditate with its faculties on the things of God.''s He teaches that this is actually something new in the soul, a new experience; it is not simply a deep-ening of what has gone before, not just a continuation and further simplifying of meditation. We have seen our own personal activity in meditation become more simple and even reduced to nothing. The old world of our senses and intellectual ideas is now remote and useless. We no lon-ger meditate by means of ideas, images, or affections. Now God begins to act, though darkly. God almost impercepti-bly infuses himself into our soul and awakens a new level of awareness. This is the actual beginning of contemplation. We experience this night of contemplation as darkness, because we have only an undefined intimation of God's presence. The experience itself is ineffable, for it is void of any intermediary of sense or image. The critical point, which John of the Cross often repeats, is that this dark, pas-sive, and simple form of prayer is truly contemplation: In this state of contemplation, when the soul has left discursive meditation and entered the state of profi-cients, it is God who works in it. He therefore binds the interior faculties and leaves no support in the intel-lect, nor satisfaction in the will, nor remembrance in the memory. At this time God does not communi-cate himself through the senses as he did before., but begins to communicate himself through pure spirit by an act of simple contemplation, in which there is no discursive succession of thought. John takes great care in repeating just what this begin-ning of contemplation consists in, because it is not what most people understand it to be. They hear about more advanced forms of contemplation such as raptures, ecsta-sies, and visions. They do not understand that those are not at all the experiences at the beginning of contempla- 179 66.2 2007 Kinn ¯ Beginning Contemplation according to John of the Cross tion. They do not realize that their natural progression of prayer from meditation to affective prayer to simpler prayer leads them to this very next step. They see their own personal activity reduced to nothing; their reflec-tions, personal affections, and quiet insights have mostly disappeared; God no longer seems to touch them through ideas, images, or affections. They find themselves in front of a wall without any satisfying thoughts and they wonder, "Where did I go wrong?" John wants us to know that this troubling development is not a dead end, not a wall at all. It is actually the natural development of our prayer and the necessary condition for God to act in us in a new way.7 As long as we filled our minds with all our rational ideas, images, reasoning, . and affections, there was no room for a new and infused way of experiencing God. Only when we admit that all our rational efforts can take us no farther do we willingly let God take over and let ourselves be peaceful and atten-tive in that dark night. Then God begins to act and show his presence, though obscurely. God almost imperceptibly infuses himself into our soul and awakens us to a new level of awareness. God opens a new door for us. At first we experience this as darkness because the experience itself is so subtle and elusive. In addition, we have no words to describe it; we use words such as "know, see, feel, sense, perceive, touch," but they are not adequate to express how we experience God now; they are only metaphors or analogies. The experience itself is ineffable, for it is void of any intermediaries of sense or image. But this direct inflow of God is actually the beginning of contemplation. Over a period of time, this new way of experiencing God will gradually reach some degree of clarity. Only little by little does this gleam in the night seem closer and some-what distinct. God only increases his light according to our ability and our faithfulness in this way. Review for Religious How to Pray in the Beginning of Contemplation What is John of the Cross's advice for those who can no longer meditate and are beginning contemplation? Fortunately, he is entirely clear and simple: The attitude necessary in the night of sense is to pay no attention to discursive meditation, since this is not the time for it. They should allow the soul to remain in rest and quietude, even though it may seem very obvious to them that they are doing nothing and wasting time. ¯. Through patience and perseverance in prayer, they will be doing a great deal without activity on their part. All that is required of them here is freedom of soul, that they liberate themselves from the impediment and fatigue of ideas and thoughts and care not about think-ing and meditating. They must be content simply with a loving andpeaceful attentiveness to God and live without the concern, without the effort, and without the desire to taste or feel him. These desires disquiet the soul and distract it from the peaceful quiet and sweet idleness of the contemplation which is being communicated to it.s John teaches here that, once we can no longer meditate with sensible images, imaginations, rational thoughts, and affections, we should not continue to struggle with our natural faculties but "remain in rest and quietude" with "a loving and peaceful attentiveness to God." Very simply, we should remain peaceful and attentive in God's presence. Again and again he assures us that the primary agent in this contemplative prayer is God:. The principal agent [now] is God, who secretly and quietly inserts in the soul loving wisdom and knowl-edge, without specific acts . Thus the individual also should proceed only with a loving attention to God, without making specific acts. He .should conduct him-self passively . . . without efforts of his own but with simple, loving awareness.9 That is, all our activity can be summed up in this one 181 66.2 2007 Kinn ¯ Beginning Contemplation according to John of the Cross 182]. word: attentive. Since the natural operations of our intel-lect and will are helpless to attain the direct knowledge of God, all we can do is put them at rest. Only when we put to rest all our sensible ways of knowing will there be room for this direct, infused experience of God. Our whole effort is to remain quiet, peaceful, open, and recep-tive to this new experience. Various metaphors might help to describe our situ-ation in this beginning of contemplation: (1) There is nothing we can do to water this garden; we can no longer even bring up buckets from the well of meditation. We have no control over the rainwater that comes from God's infused contemplation. (2) We need a new way of breath-ing in this rarefied air; only the pure oxygen of God will sustain us at this altitude. (3) We are beyond our ability to swim any more; all we can do is float in the water and wait for God to carry us along. (4) All our efforts cannot open this door to the new experience of God; the most we can do is remove all the obstacles of our mental images and rational thoughts. (5) God is the sun ever shining; he will certainly shine in our soul once it is empty of the clutter of sensible images and natural reasoning. And these same metaphors may help us to be patient in this passive form of prayer--content to be peaceful and atten-tive in God's presence. John wants us to know that, once we no longer have the power to work or meditate with our faculties, God will soon bring us from meditation to contemplation: "As soon as natural things are driven out of the enamored soul, the divine are naturally and supernaturally infused, since there can be no void in nature.''1° Again he repeats his assurance: "Little by little and very soon the divine calm and peace with a wondrous, sublime knowledge of God . . . will be infused into his soul . Learn to be empty of all things--interiorly and exteriorly--and you Review for Religious will behold that I am God.''~1 John's words, "there can be no void in nature," remind us of the familiar experience of opening a can of vacuum-packed coffee; as soon as we puncture the can, the air fills the void with a hiss of air rushing in. The image suggested by John, then, is that, once we have learned to remain in the presence of God peacefully and attentively, God will soon fill this void with an infused sense of his presence and love. Now, if this dark and passive prayer is really the beginning of contemplation, then what is the source of that infused grace? John answers clearly: "The principal agent and guide and mover of souls in this mat-ter [at the beginning of contemplation] is . ¯ . the Holy Spirit. ¯ When the soul frees itself of all things . . . it is impossible that God should fail to do his part by communicating himself to it, at least silently and secretly.''12 That is, instead of relying on our own rational faculties and efforts, John tells us to rely on the infused wisdom of the Holy Spirit, who is "the principal agent and guide and mover" in all of contempla-tive prayer¯ Throughout this dark night, the Holy Spirit continues to infuse this contemplative prayer in our soul: "This communication [of dark contemPlation] is secret and dark to the work of the intellect and the other fac-ulties insofar as these faculties do not acquire it but the Holy Spirit infuses it and puts it in order in the soul." Finally, throughout The Living Flame of Love, John identi-fies the source of further union and transformation of the soul as the Holy Spirit: "This flame of love is the Spirit of its Bridegroom, which is the Holy Spirit.''~4 We have no control over the rainwater that comes from God's infused contemplation. 183 66.2 2007 Kinn ¯ Beginning Contemplation according to John of the Cross I84 So, in this beginning stage of contemplation and in all the stages of contemplation, our singular effort will be to be quiet and attentive. At first, our usual sense of God's presence will be dark and unsatisfying; we will feel weak and empty. Yet this is the only way we can learn not to rely on our rational faculties but only on the Spirit of Jesus. In Scripture, Jesus promised us this "Spirit of Truth" who will "be with you always" (Jn 14:16-17); "he will teach you everything" (Jn 14:26) and "will guide you-to all truth" (Jn !6:13). Certainly this "everything" and "all truth" include this wonderful infused contemplation. We can trust in Jesus' assurance: "How much more will the Father in heaven give the holy Spirit to those who ask him?" (Lk 11:13). One Example of Contemplative Prayer V~hen we reach this dark night of the senses, we can feel lost in our prayer because all our faculties, are dark and all our efforts are useless. Despite the guidance of John of the Cross, we would like to have some example of just how to proceed in this beginning of contemplative prayer. Here is one example. Receive, 0 Lord, my whole freedom--my senses, my imagination, my affections, my reasonings. All these faculties l have received from you. I renounce the use of all of them during this prayer, unless it be according to your will. Grant me only the inspiration of your Spirit, nothing more. Lord, I am content to dwell in this dark night in which all. my faculties are helpless. This dark-ness is my friend, for on!y in this night can your new light become visible; this silence is the.way to wisdom, for only in complete quiet can the gentle voice of

Issue 66.4 of the Review for Religious, 2007. ; 66.4 2007 Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, ~dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we try to live according to charisms of Catholic religious life. As Pope Paul V! 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 .]csuits of the A~issoori Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulcvard ¯ St. Louis, A'lissouri 63108-3393 "li~lephone: 314-633-4610 ° Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Marl: rcvicw@slu.cdn ¯ \.\;eh site: www.revicwforrcligious.org Manuscripts, books fi~r review, and correspondence with the editor: Revicw for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Bonlcvard ¯ St. Louis, A'IO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth A'lcl)onoogh OP ° Pontifical Collcge Josephinum 7625 North High Street ¯ Colnmhus, Ohio43235 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ 1:O. Bo× 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, ~\~issouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2007 Review fi~r Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contaiued in this issue of Review for Religions for pcrsoual or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sectious 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must hear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permissiou is NOT extended to copying for commercial distrihution, 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. view for religious Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Adviso~7 Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonoiagh OP Eugene Hensell OSB M~ry Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jud~" Sharp Martin Erspamer OSB Kathleen Hughes RSCJ LoOis and Angela Menard Bishop .Ter~ Ste!b.SVD Miriam D. Ukeriti~. CSJ QUARTERLY 66.4 2007 contents prisms 340 Prisms 342 living faith Credible Witnesses Regina Siegfried ASC revisits the martyrdom of five sisters of her congregation fifteen years after the event to invite us all to reflect on what it means to be credible witnesses. 350 358 Priesthood 101: Lessons from a Barrio Antonio (T.J.) Martinez SJ draws upon conversations and experiences with parishioners to propose six pragmatic guidelines on how a new priest ministers to a Latino Catholic congregation. Personal and Group Reflection Questions Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety Mark E Plaushin OSFS proposes Salesian spirituality as offering a paradigm for Catholic pastoral praxis on the battlefield which can mitigat.e anxiety and restore spiritual resilience. Reflective Questions for Personal and Group Use Review for Religious 377 prayer in our life Contemplative Gifts Carolyn Humphreys OCDS reflects upon the richness of the gift of a contemplative orientation to life and our need to guard and nourish what we receive by a manner of living that is rooted in humility. Prayer Suggestion 386 Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life Elissa Rinere CP traces some of the struggles of the last forty years regarding Eucharist as celebration, Eucharist as sacrament received, and Eucharist as object of adoration. 401 Jesus and Mary ~, The Christ Child, the Father of the Man A. Paul Dominic SJ raises the question: How can adult Christians celebrate and enjoy Christmas for what it is in our faith lives? Prayer 412 The Mother of the Lord in Byzantine Spirituality John M. Samaha SM introduces us to the rich, but different, ways that the veneration of Mary permeates the entire life of Byzantine Christianity. departments ~ 424 Scripture Scope: A Preface to Reading Matthew 429 Canonical Counsel: Conscience and Confidentiality from the Members' Perspective 434 Book Reviews 443 2007 Indexes 66.4 2007 prisms 340 St. Paul identified us Christians as "ambassadors of reconciliation." As Paul says, God has reconciled us to himself through Christ and has given us the ministry of reconciliation (2 Co 5:18). In the large-scale picture of history, we often have not lived up to that role, either as individuals or as a church community. The fact that we can identify wars as reli-gious wars does not fit well with people who are meant to be known as reconcilers. Probably even worse are the examples from history of the fight-ing between Christian nations and even between Christians in the same nation. One does not have to be an avowed pacifist to acknowledge that something is terribly amiss when the faith that holds us to be brothers and sisters in Jesus Christ has. so little effect in our behavior. There is an evident gap between the faith statements that we might intellectualize about and the faith reality thatis meant to reside in our hearts. We might even take our example of divi-sion into the lived experience of our parish and church life today and our religious community life as well. It makes little difference the iden-tifying labels we use, whether pre-Vatican I~ vs. post-Vatican II, liberal vs. conservative, tradi-tional vs. contemporary. The reality is that there is often present a "warring" mentality that con-siders one side the enemy or the "bad guys." Review for Religious Too often Catholics of whatever stripe are more intent on "defeating" or "dismissing" the opposition or those of a different opinion or practice. Quoting man-made laws, as Jesus tried to point out to the scribes and Pharisees, is not the way to be a negotiator or a reconciler. What does an ambassador of reconciliation need first of all? An ambassador needs to be at the heart of the Christian message, following the one commandment--to love God with all one's heart, with all one's soul, with all one's strength, and with all one's mind, and to love one's neighbor as oneself. And an ambassador needs to pray. To pray means dialoguing with God, and dialogue means both to talk and to listen. Learning to talk and to listen to God carries over into being able to listen and to talk to others, my neighbors. We may not need to learn how to talk, but we certainly need to learn how to listen, and maybe to pray, and even to really love our neighbor. Loving, praying, and dialoguing are necessary activities for an ambassador, necessary activities to learn how to do for one who identifies as a Christian. As we see in the Gospels, Jesus is the first "ambas-sador of reconciliation," the One sent by the Father who loved the world so much. But to be a person who dia-logues, to be one who negotiates, to be a reconciler seems so hard for us to do. It is only in our devotion to Jesus that we find ourselves empowered to live in such a way. The church and our world have never had a greater need of such ambassadors. Like the Christmas gift of Christ, we pray that we may be ambassadors of reconcilation, "a gift that keeps on giving." David L. Fleming SJ 341 ES. The editorial staff wishes all our subscribers and readers a blessed Advent time of hope and expectation and a Christmastime celebration of peace andreconciliation. 66.4 2007 REGINA SIEGFRIED Credible Witnesses living faith 20 October 1992--Rebel soldiers shoot Mary Joel Kolmer ASC and Barbara Ann Muttra ASC, their guard Peter, and two ECOMOG (Economic Community of West African States Cease Fire Monitoring Group) soldiers, on a stretch of road to Barnersville, Liberia, West Africa. 23 October 1992--Five armed NPFL (National Patriotic Front of Liberia) men arrive at the sisters' home in Gardnersville and kill Kathleen McGuire ASC, Agnes Mueller ASC, and Shirley Kolmer ASC. 31 October 1992--Early-morning phone calls and radio announcements break the hearts of fam-ily, friends, and sisters as they learn that the five Adorers of the Blood of Christ died days ago. Regina Siegfried ASC has written often for this journal. She may be addressed at 4042A Botanical; St. Louis, Missouri 63110. Her e-mail: ReginaSiegfried@sbcglobal.net Review for Religious October 2007--Fifteen years hold enough days to dull the pain most of the time, to create narratives that may or may not match the deep stories of community myth, and to reflect on the meaning of lives poured out. Martyrs and prophets--the words, are appropriate for these honored dead, but we would rather have our five sisters still living and laughing in our midst. Words can be too easy, unless they call us today to be courageous in a world still violent, broken, war-ravaged, and suffering. How do we respond, not only to their valiant lives, but also to our own deepest longings to be credible witnesses? In the early days of Christianity, the word martyrs meant witnesses, disciples of Jesus, those who proclaimed his life, death, and resurrection and who preached the good news of the household of God in their society and culture. Luke 24:48 says clearly: "You are witnesses of these things." Acts 1:8 indicates the same: "You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." In Acts 10:40-4.1 we read: "This man God .raised on the third day and granted that he be visible, not to all the people, but to us, the witnesses chosen by God in advance, who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead." By the 2nd century, execution for faith became associated with martyrdom. But martyrs are first and foremost witnesses to the gospel and messengers of a new way to live. The Constitution of the Adorers of the Blood of Christ uses the phrase credible witness in section 18 on gospel pov-erty: "To give credible witness to the liberating poverty of Christ in the world today and to grow toward poverty of spirit, we live in evangelical simplicity, personally and as community." To be credible witnesses can often mean losing much of what society holds precious. Status, material goods, 66.4 2007 Siegfried ¯ Credible Witnesses Credible witnesses are prophets who speak truth to authority, who advocate for the powerless, and who become voices for the silent, comfortable lifestyle, and easily expendable income can voluntarily or involuntarily fall away. Credible witnesses see beyond and beneath the obvious, the material, and the sufficient to live in solidarity with those who hold enough invisible wealth and power and grace to convert even witnesses to a new way of living. Credible witnesses are prophets who speak truth to authority, who advo-cate for the powerless, and who become voices for the silent. They bear witness to the pain, suf-fering, and anguish in the lives of others simply by being there with them, sharing in the blatant unfair-ness and violence of lives that deserve much better. The Adorers killed in Liberia were credible witnesses long before bullets claimed their lives, long before their blood soaked the soil of a war-torn country whose peo-ple were precious and dear to them. The details of their lives and deaths are now familiar and recorded elsewhere. Those who knew them recall quite vividly lives dedicated to the poor, to women, to children, to the.sick, and to students years before they went to Liberia to witness to the gospel there and to discover a different face of God, a countenance that would draw them to insist on return-ing to share again in the passion of a people suffering in a relentless and seemingly endless civil war. Even as the conflict slowly escalated, Barbara Ann was more concerned about getting a grant to purchase five Hondas "so some of our physician assistants can go to these villages for supervision. Some villages are over ten Review for Religious miles interior over rough dusty roads" (21 March 1987 letter from Klay, Liberia, to her friend Meg Wittenbrink). After a year in Liberia, Agnes wrote on 24 May 1989 to Angelita Myerscough ASC: "I'm sure I am not the same person who came a little over a year ago now. I feel my life is much richer for having spent time with these people. They have given me every bit as much as I have shared With them." On 21 April 1990, writing to Marisa Nardoni ASC in Tanzania, Mary Joel reflected on the readings after Easter: All the readings are from the Acts of the Apostles and it is so reassuring to read how strong they were now that his Spirit has taken over in them. And how we should be because the Spirit is with us and is here, guiding us, leading us on. It must have been something like the saints experienced when they were put on the line for Jesus, how they knew that he, the Lord, was their Savior and that life had meaning for them and that they could stand up for him, even though it meant being killed. It is such a powerful message. And he can do so much in us and through us, if we're only open to him. Barbara Ann, Agnes, and Mary Joel were in Liberia for the people, not to get killed. Years of service in the United States were background for more service to people in Liberia. Not naive, they knew the risks of being with people who were suffering more than they themselves were. Kathleen and Shirley had reputations in the United States as bold and fearless advocates in the face of injustice. When Shirley was provincial of the then Ruma province, she sent Mailgrams to Tom Enders, Assistant Secretary of State for Inter-American Affairs, to the Guatemalan Embassy, to Senator Charles Percy, Senator Alan Dixon, and Representative Paul Simon to express "deep con-cern regarding four workers missing in Guatemala and 66.4 2007 Siegfried ¯ Credible Witnesses the disappearance of two Dominican nuns of Grand Rapids, Michigan, I urge you to support HR 101, stop-ping U.S. aid to Guatemala." In 1987 Shirley wrote a lengthy essay, "Human Suffering and Its Consequences for World Peace," maintaining that "it is the very lives of many of our brothers and sisters who live a life of suf-fering, an existence that borders on the intolerable every day." Even before Kathleen became the peace-and-justice coordinator for the then Ruma province, she drafted a "Possible Diocesan Pastoral Letter Regarding Peace and the War in the Persian Gulf" when she ministered in the Jefferson City, Missouri, diocese. She called for "the whole Catholic community to pray for a peace which is life-sustaining for all our sisters and brothers. We have to acknowledge that we are citizens of a nation which readily uses military force to secure its national interests and to attain its political objectives all around the world." These are simply small examples from the lives of women who lived as credible witnesses years before they were killed in Liberia. If we consider them martyrs, we can just as readily regard them as prophets. Prophets speak truth to author-ity; prophets proclaim the coming of the household and reign of God in season and out of season. Like roses in December, prophets are .unexpected messengers, wit-nesses, and signs of God's presence among us. Prophets are the most credible of witnesses, for their lives are their words and their words are their lives. Standing and stay-ing in solidarity with the suffering, the neglected, and the forgotten, prophets choose life in the face of death and pour out compassion for people bent down by injustice and oppression. Prophets might flinch in the face of vio-lence and injustice, but they do not run away. Fifteen years removed from the days of raw grief, dis-belief, and pain offer us a cautionary tale. Life and the Review for Religious mission and our ministries have indeed moved on, devel-oped, and deepened, something the five absent from our midst would want. The caution comes with the tendency to settle for the mediocre, to choose complacency and comfort, to opt for the safe, for the familiar and easy, because we might - fear the new, the unexpected, and a different vision for our congregation. Our charism is wild, fierce, fiery, ten-der, and urgent. It impels us to live our ordinary lives with extraordinary passion, grace, and commitment. Violence seems to circle our globe like pollen caught in the air currents. Although Liberia and Croatia, where ASC sisters also work, seem to have reached some modicum of nor-mal existence, violence erupts in Afghanistan, Palestine, and Iraq. Children and women are trafficked; slavery is not as over as we once thought. Today, in postwar Croatia, our sisters are witnesses and prophets, living the gospel message even with "many sisters left with serious repercussions and traumas which they feel to this day," Sister Ancilla Vukoja ASC reports. When their Serb Orthodox neighbors expected to be turned away from the drug rehab center the sisters had opened in Aleksandrovac (in the vicinity of Banja Luca) because of the violence they had committed against the sisters and other Croatians, the sisters told them, "We read the Scriptures and in these words we find the forgive-ness and strength to be persons of love toward all." Their martyrdom is in giving witness to forgiveness and recon-ciliation. Some of them remember the trauma of being Prophets are the most credible of witnesses, for their lives are their words' and their words are their lives. 66.4 20O7 Siegfm'ed ¯ Credible Witnesses forced to cross a mine-laced bridge over the Sava River following in the exact steps of the sister leading them through as they sang the Magnificat. When a journalist asked Sister Maristella how she felt and what she thought about, knowing that she was facing death, she replied: "All I could think about was the many other people who were dealt the same fate. I felt that my life was no more important than theirs. I thought that it was even harder for them because, unlike us, they had children who would be orphans." The Adorers who walked that path traveled in spirit with the sisters who fled the Sino-Japanese war in China in 1937, with the ASCs who were held hostage several times and narrowly escaped death in the Congo between 1959 and 1964, with the sisters who stayed and suffered with the people in Guinea Bissau during the civil war there, and with the ASCs who trudged on a road out of Liberia in 1990. As credible witnesses, the congrega-tion has a history of walking difficult routes because the charism impels us to stay beyond the expected time and to remain with people who are precious to us. Sister Ancilla writes: Times like those, however, sometimes uncover unknown heroic potential, readiness to suffer and offer one's life for others, for goodness and love toward others. I can-not but think of our sisters who voluntarily remained in Bosnia during the fiercest conflicts and danger, sharing the fate of the Catholics in that country. They could have retreated to safety but did not out of solidarity with those who could not leave because they did not have the necessary documentation. They realized then more than ever that they were needed by their people. They were a sign to which a suffering people were able to turn and where they could find a trace of hope and protection. Our charism, our slain sisters, and our own hearts call us to live in deep compassion with all the pain and suffer- Review for Religious ing of the least among us. That stance and life make us the best we are meant to be because our charism pulses with the life of all the people of the world. Our charism is wild, fierce, fiery, tender, and urgent. We need to be where the need is greatest. Are we? Background Resources Boehmer, Clare, ASC. Echoes in Our Hearts. Ruma, Illinois: Adorers of the Blood of Christ, 1994. Konieczny, Stanley. Acting in the Most Noble Tradition: The Life and Ministry of the Adorers' Five Martyrs of Charity. ASC Profiles 14. Rome: International Center of Spirituality, Adorers of the Blood of Christ, 1999. Kolmer, Elizabeth, ASC. "The Death of Five Adorers of the Blood of Christ and the Changing Meaning of Martyrdom." U.S. Catholic Historian 24:3 (Summer 2006): 149-164. Okure, Teresa, Jon Sobrino, and Felix Wilfred, eds. Rethinking Martyrdom. SCM-Canterbury Press, 2003. Schubeck, Thomas L., SJ. "Salvadoran Martyrs: A Love That Does Justice." Horizons 28:1 (Spring 2001): 7-29. Siegfried, Regina, ASC. "Choose Life: Reflections Ten Years after Five Deaths," Review for Religious 61:5 (September-October 2002): 472- 480. Vukoja, Ancilla, ASC. "How the Sisters in the Zagreb Region Lived Their Charism during the War and the Postwar Period (particularly in the vicinity of Banja Luka)." May 2007. 16 profili di testimoni della Cbiesa in ltalia. Comitato preparatorio del IV Convengo ecclesiale nazionale (a cura di) Speranza del mondo. 349 66.4 2007 ANTONIO MARTINEZ Priesthood 101: Lessons from a Barrio d s I rushed into the sacristy for my first Mass in Spanish only a week after being ordained, my heart was beating fast. I had not spoken Spa.nish for eight years. I had just been assigned to our Jesuit parish, Sagrado Corazdn, in the segundo barrio in E1 Paso, Texas, on the Mexican border. The parish serves a poor, immigrant, Latino Catholic congregation. My fears about celebrat-ing this Mass increased when a young Mexican woman holding a blanketed newbbrn asked me to bless her baby at Mass. Recognizing that I was new to the parish, she offered instructions on how I should proceed. She would approach me at the presider's chair before the concluding blessing, cradle her baby in my arms, and then kneel as I went and raised it over th~ altar, in front of the congrega-tion, as an offering to God. "What in the world?" I thought to myself. I wondered if I had heard her correctly. But, having just graduated from one of the finest schools of theology in the country, Antonio Martinez SJ, newly ordained but back in more studies, lives at John LaFarge House; 6 Sumner Road; Cambridge, Massachusetts 02138. Review ~or Religious I saw in this request an instance of everything I was not to do--do not make too many distinctions between the ministerial priesthood and the priesthood of the people, do not over-ritualize any of the liturgical celebrations, and do not present yourself as so distinct a mediator of God's grace that the people minimize their own close relation-ship with Christ. Behind each of these admonitions was a "theol-ogy from below," teaching that God, through the Holy Spirit, speaks directly to his people and that the church's ministers can learn from them as well as teach them. Mentally brandishing my line of graduate degrees and sensing an opportunity to instruct the faithful, I politely yet briefly explained to her the idea of a "theology from below" which advocated a more lim-ited function of the office of the priest. Dismissing her until later, I told her I would bless her baby after Mass, on the outside steps of the church, before she and her family headed back home. Two days later I recognized the same lady I had met in the sacristy on Sunday as she humbly made her way to the priedieu before the altar dedicated to La Virgen de Guadalupe. As she finished her rosary, I purposely went near so that she migh~ thank me for both enlightening and empowering her. She came towards me with a shy smile. Graciously thanking me for the quick blessing over In ,their spirituality Latino Catholics 'understand that there, is a sacred distance between God and ~his people that is mediated by the sacred functions of a priest. 66.4 2007 Martinez * Priesthood 101: Lessons from a Barrio her baby, she also said she had been thinking and praying more about this "theology from below." Then, without showing any resentment or anger, but also without any hesitation, she simply said in her hushed Spanish, "You know, Father, I'm also that theology from below." She left as unobtrusively and reverently as she came. Her simple and direct comment left me frozen in my tracks, and then I felt a wave of shame and embarrass-ment. Everything I thought I knew about being a priest paled in comparison with what this one Latina woman had now taught me. Unassuming and unpretentious, she had just shattered my theological and presbyteral pre-sumptions, employing the very method that made them so convincing and dominant in the first place. With one sentence she had sent me to figure out what this barrio congregation wanted and expected from their priest--and could teach me. And there was little time to do this before I had to leave for my next assignment. From the numerous experiences and conversations I had with the parishioners, six axioms arose on how to be an effective Catholic priest to them. I think many Latino populations would agree with them, whether parishes or schools. I offer them, not as theologies or spiritualities, but as practical helps toward seeing and appreciating the Catholic priesthood from a Latino point of view. 1. Eres un sacerdote, dirige tu pueblo. / Maintain the distinction between the ministerial priesthood and the priest-hood of the people. Many Latinos draw a clear distinction between the priesthood of the people and their priest. While there exists a connection, the "special character" about which the ordination rite speaks in its introduction not only results from centuries of theological exploration, but more immediately is sensed in the faith of the people I was sent to serve. The ministerial priesthood, through the bestowal of sacred orders in a line from the first apostles, Review for Religious puts the ordained man in a position of special responsibil-ity, with the expectation that he fulfill the important task of following in the image of Christ by liturgically gath-ering, proclaiming, and consecrating. Latino Catholics continue to insist that this belongs to the ordained priest-hood, for in their spirituality they understand that there is a sacred distance between God and his people that is mediated by the sacred functions of a priest. This distance gives meaning to their worship and praise of God, who is among them yet distinct from them. And, while the parishioners with whom I spoke note that this does not make the ministerial priesthood better than the priest-hood of the people, it does maintain a difference, both in character and in function, which positively and directly affects their relationship with God. 2. Dales tu bendicidn. / A blessing from a priest means something. While canon law clearly outlines the importance of a blessing from a priest, it is the parishioners at Sagrado Corazdn who have emphasized this fact. Before and after every Sunday Mass, I was approached by large numbers of Latino Catholics, young and old, asking for blessings over themselves, their families, and their various religious items and' sacramentals. For them, the priest speaks not only on behalf of the people, but, with great humility and unworthiness, also speaks on behalf of Christ and his church. In so doing, priests function in persona Christi when they give a blessing, making Christ a more immedi-ate reality wherein they, their children, and all the things blessed represent both an offering up to God and God's return of that offering to them in their lives. Ritualized gestures in accordance with the church's instructions only accentuate this reality for a culture where actions speak louder than words. 3. Saluda al pueblo. / Kiss their babies, hug their grand-mothers, and shake everyonek hands. At some parishes, on 66.4 2007 Martinez * Priesthood I O1: Lessons from a Barrio a few occasions (both weekdays and Sundays), I have noticed priests entering and leaving the sacristy or church without saying hello to people nearby. The laypersons gathered for Mass have, of course, enough to do greeting one another, and I do not wish to focus overly on the pre-sider. But I have found that, for Latino congregants, the absence of greeting from their priests strikes them as not only odd but rude. They come to church to praise God, be with each other, and be with their priest. Far from giv-ing the priest a measure of prestige, his failure to interact with his parishioners at the end of Mass alienates them from himself and the church. The congregants from this culture feel most included when they get some "face time" with Father, which in turn reminds them of their impor-tance as the Body of Christ. Moreover, in an age where any "touch" from a priest raises suspicion in some people, Latino Catholics, at least in this barrio, expect and appre-ciate a warm, tangible greeting from their priest, whether it is a kind embrace, a firm handshake, or a kiss on their baby's forehead (this last one especially, according to a Jesuit priest serving in another barrio). 4. Presentate como un padre. / Wear your clerics. Clerical clothing has sometimes raised problems, espe-cially during and shortly after the height of the horrific sexual-abuse scandal in the church. Latino Catholics in the barrios, however, want their priests to look like priests when working as priests. Our parish sits along the Mexican border, and the sight of our church and of priests in clerics gives people hope and a sense of home after a long, dangerous, and even abusive journey. Furthermore, far from looking for their priests to blend in and be their buddies .and far from looking down on clerical garb as old-fashioned, the Latino culture likes clothing to reflect well-defined roles, for it helps people avoid any ambigu-ous conduct in their relationship with priests. Then, too, Review for Religious clerical garb, when not abused, stands as a symbol of ser-vice and of respect for God, the church, and the congre-gation; it is a witness to the Catholic faith they are proud of. This symbol of their faith is something Latinos cling to most especially as they migrate to foreign places and cultures where they may suffer abuse simply because of who they are. 5. Portate como un angel /ddbere to and model a higher standard of behavior. Latino Catholics have always looked for a higher standard of behavior in their priests, even if they have not always found it. For them, once you stand as an official of the church, the sacred oils and your public vows remind every-one of their quest as God's people not only to be good but to become holy. How priests act, then, either fosters the destiny of every human being to be with God, or under-mines it. Not only should a priest behave well, but he should avoid even the appearance of impropriety. He should not only practice the evangelical counsels of pov-erty, chastity, and obedience, but also be careful to witness to them. The Latino culture in the barrio, as a culture that invests greatly in role models, looks to its priests as models of a higher standard of ethical action, noble aspi-ration, and devotion to God, giving themselves and others the hope that their quest for holiness is not illusory. 6. Respeta al papa. / Speak respecqCully of your brother priests and the magisterial church. The high value the Latino culture puts on family life spills over into the way they see the church, their "other family"--many barrio parishio- Latino Catholics have always looked for a higher standard of behavior in their priests, even if they have not always found it. 66.4 2007 Martinez * Priesthood 101: Lessons from a Barrio ners attest to this and live it every day. And, just as with family loyalties, priests owe. fidelity to their brother priests and to the authority of the episcopacy, especially the Holy Father. Personally and socially identifying with the struc-tures of the church, they expect their priests to uphold those structures in a world where their other cultural structures are confusing, embattled, problematic, mocked, absent, or in disarray. While certainly open to dialogue, the Latino people are never open to disrespect. These axioms may need to be further nuanced, and others may be desirable. But, from my experiences and conversations with the people I served in a barrio, these are the lessons I have learned so far. My experience in other parishes across the United States has shown that these expectations are not limited to barrio Latinos or even Latinos in general. They cross cultural and genera-tional lines. I have read that Latino immigrant experience seems quite similar to that of Irish immigrants in earlier years. If Latin Americans will make up the majority of the Catholic Church in the United States by 2020, then I, for one, had better pay more attention to what they expect of their priests. I should pay more attention to.just what these "practical theologians from below" really are saying, so as to serve them and the church more faithfully. On a certain Sunday a while ago, I invited all those who had unbaptized newborns up to the altar for a special blessing. I would offer.the babies up to God by holding them over the altar. The first one was the child of the mother who had approached me and given me my first lesson in Priesthood 101, a course many other teachers added to later. As I held the baby up, the congregation erupted in a thunderous applause. To my mind, they were recognizing that, while I was young and foolish, with their help I just might make a decent priest after all. Review for Religious Personal and Group Reflection Questions 1. What "axioms" might I list as helps that I have learned from the people to whom I minister? 2. What experience have I had in dealing with people from other ethnic or cultural traditions? 3. How do I choose to grow in my ability ~o minister in Christ's name? the muted trumpet these dead will not rise to life but to an eternal dying and though they hear the trumpet blow its promise, its ringing joy, its piercing clarity, all muted distant, distorted like words heard undemoater deafness, dullness from the grave stumbling, not leaping, not smiling, shining but bitter, weeping how far away it sounds the ~nuted trmnpet Sean Kinsella 66.4 2007 MARK F. PLAUSHIN Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety Caatholic pastoral praxis during combat operations kes into account that soldiers confront situations that demand resourcefulness and optimum integration of their physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual selves. The soldiers' tour of duty ranges from boredom to adrenaline-pumping combat. The brutal geography saps energy and offers minimal aesthetic inspiration. In growing numbers Arabs regard Americans as occupiers, not liberators. Regardless of national goals or personal attitudes, occupiers bear the burden of proving that they are there "in the interests of the occupied. Amid all this, soldiers face the task of spiritually adapting to the experi-ence of war. Our soldiers are spiritual; many are Catholic; they will face a cycle of deployments in the years ahead. It is appropriate, then, that Catholic chaplains foster a spiri-tuality that mitigates the anxieties which stem from war Mark E Plaushin OSFS has served in the Army for twenty-two years as an infantry officer and a cultural affairs officer and as a chaplain with two tours in the Middle East. He is now Senior Catholic Chaplain at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington. His address is 721 Lawrence Street, N.E.; Washington, D.C. 20017. Review for Religious so that an authentic and devout life can flourish. Salesian spirituality can help maintain and/or restore spiritual resilience, a sense of self that serves survival and can serve transitions out of combat situations. I am convinced that soldiers can put the experience of war into their own faith story without yielding to two dangerous extremes: despair as articulated in Anthony Swoford's Jarhead and hubris as trumpeted in Stephen Mansfield's The Faith of the American Soldier. Catholic praxis demands balance and perspective. War is evil and unequivocally antithetical to authentic living. On the other hand, despair is not a worthy response to it, for God's grace overcomes evil and restores human flourishing. Anthony Swoford paints a despairing picture of war's impact on the human person. A veteran of the First Gulf War, he grieves over his shared responsibility in the death of several Iraqi soldiers. The story of their anonymous deaths is told in the context of his dark experience as a Marine and is saturated with unrelenting cynicism and unyielding hopelessness. It is indicative of a malnour-ished spiritual life, but is nonetheless an important spiri-tual manifesto. He offers savvy warning about those who come home from war and tell "what they call good news, the good news about war and warriors." The truth is that war is not good news. Swoford writes: I am entitled to despair over the likelihood of further atrocities . In crowded rooms and walking the streets of our cities, I am alone and full of despair, and while sitting and writing, I am alone and full of despair--the same despair that impelled me to write this book, a quiet scream from a buried coffin. Dead, dead, my scream. What did I hope to gain? More bombs are coming. Dig your holes with the hands God gave you. (Anthony Swoford, Jarhead [New York: Scribner, 2003], p. 254) Inspired, Swoford's message is strapped for evidence of a God who loves and heals. Many have been exposed to 66.4 2007 Plausbin ¯ Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety Many military Catholics, no different than their civilian friends, lack a substantive spirituality combat and have experienced spiritual restoration. They celebrate successfully God's love for them and put war in the larger and rich picture of how God is at work in the world even as we grieve over war's sorrows. Though I mourn Swoford's despair, Stephen Mansfield's thesis is more of a problem. Recounting an experience of young Marines praying before a mission in Iraq, he writes: "They know there is a spiritual-ity to war, that warriors should trust in something beyond themselves to be of any use. So in the bar-rens of Iraq they build an altar of faith and ask their God to make them the war-riors he has called them to be.''~ Mansfield argues for a "faith-based warrior code.''2 Warriors must trust in some-thing greater than themselves, but Mansfield claims that soldiers "have been given no code, no moral or spiritual framing for the profession they now find themselves in or the war they now face death to win.''3 It is unfortunate that many soldiers do not own their faith and make it their own, even though the "code" already exists in the gospel and its message is right there in our traditions. Many military Catholics, no different than their civilian friends, lack a substantive spirituality. Though Mansfield offers insight into the shortcomings of religious support on the battlefield, he seems to celebrate war as a spiritual act. While he captures the elegant dilemma of millen-nial Christians serving in the armed forces, he deifies the American Christian soldier as righteous by virtue of his or her identity as such. Like all gospels of prosperity, this theory suffers from Gnostic influence, Review for Religious Swoford experiencing spiritual anemia and Mansfield a spiritual hubris are inadequate responses to soldiers whose anxieties undermine their spiritual health. Warriors are spiritual, not because they embrace a cult, but when they focus on their essential vocation of self-gift. The Catholic chaplain can offer a spirituality that neither embraces despair nor trumpets war. We are authentic neither in despairing nor in dancing, but in an acceptance of God's love and in our sequent resolution to embrace him and those he sends into our lives. The Gospel amid War's Anxiety The tactical dynamic--compounded by numbing rep-etition, interaction with an ambivalent and unpredictable indigenous population, and an uncertain sense of contrib-uting to a limited national victory--tends toward exhaus-tion of soldier resilience. Numbers of troops leave the desert emotionally, physically, and/or spiritually depleted. Many pursue the task of recovery, conscious and appre-ciative of personal and professional resources available to them. Others struggle on their own to regain their poise or their passion for life, only to feel personal defeat and exhibit an unhealthy sense of self. Even those who recover often suffer personal and professional setbacks. Given these circumstances, those who command troops and those who give troops pastoral care face a multiform threat to their well-being. Military decision making is incomplete if it does not mitigate risk in its varied forms. Yet commanders and troops know that risk attends even routine operations. We also know that, when soldiers are led by capable and honest leaders, receive challenging and realistic training, and have strong morale in units with a tested esprit de corps, they will face any threat and level of risk. Further, these warriors are more likely to survive war and help 361 66.4 2007 Plausbin * Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety 362] others do so. This includes setting positive conditions for recovery from the rigors of war after redeploying to the United States. All commanders want to bring their soldiers home alive and intact, and chaplains share responsibility for safe homecoming. Pastoral praxis, however, envisions more than biological survival and physical integrity. Pastoral care in the war zone, as in any apostolic setting, seeks to sustain and enhance the life of the soul. We refer to spiri-tual resilience when we reflect .on this sense of self that marks authentic lif~ in Christ. This resilience is essential to healthy personal relationships, whether one continues in a military career or returns to civilian life. Helping sol-diers keep or recover resilience means nothing less than helping them integrate their experience of war into their life's story so well that they can still or again celebrate God's love for them. This is the central task of the gospel in the war zone. The primary threat to a fighting man or woman's spiri-tual center of gravity is anxiety. Francis de Sales (1567- 1622) says, "With the single exception of sin, anxiety is the greatest evil that can happen to the soul.''4 Because anxiety saps people's strength, they have a diminished capacity for resisting temptation arid practicing acquired virtues.5 The practice of virtue is the life of charity, the organization of people's lives toward God. Devotion is superabundant charity. Charity is the archetype virtue and accommodates all other virtues to a person's state in life.6 Francis cor-relates the disabling of virtue with greater susceptibility to temptation. This "disabling" is the organization of self toward someone or something other than God. This has an effect on .the soldier, his unit, and military operations. Contrasting abuse of prisoners with a pro-fessional way of handling them can demonstrate this. A sergeant who captured a few insurgents after they had Review for Religious ambushed and killed three of his fellow soldiers told me, "Sir, I just wanted to kill them all, but I knew it was the w.rong thing to do." Such conduct is an example of the resilience soldiers need to navigate difficult moral deci-sion points correctly, with integrity. Each armed service promotes virtue through core values.7 The cultivation of these values, from basic entry training through retirement, is essential to the spiritual fitness that characterizes - good soldiering and a ful-filling career. The battle-field minister, proffering Salesian spirituality as a practical illumination of the gospel, understands that the life of charity demanded by the gospel is prerequisite to, and fruit of, a healthy spiritual life. Anxiety, on - the other hand, is a spiritual pathology: it degrades spiri-tual health. It is a disordered desire to be free of an evil or to acquire some good.8 This contributes to disorgani-zation of the individual's personal resources--not least of which is a positive sense of self. Let us see how anxiety enters the soul. When .our soul perceives it has suffered an evil, it is dislSleased. This displeasure, which we call sadness, is naturally something we want to be relieved of as soon as possible. But why do we seek relief?. De Sales suggests two answers that determine our spiritual deportment. One, the soul seeks relief out of love for God and for a better .relationship with God. Remembering all the good things God has given, the soul is patient if relief from sadness does not ,come quicldy.9 It depends on God's providence rather than its own effort,l° The primary threat to a fighting man or woman's spiritual center of gravity is anxiety. 66.4 2007 Plausbin ¯ Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety Alternatively, the soul seeks relief out of self-love.~t In this spiritual estrangement, the soul relies on its own effort. It has an inadequate awareness or no awareness of God seeking a loving relationship. In this case, all other goods, whether people or things, are either grasped or discarded without reference to God or his purpose. This is a poor use of personal freedom. It is not uncommon for such a distressed person to make inappropriate choices regarding sexual behavior, substance abuse, and even vio-lence. The soul feels overwhelmed, inadequate, or inau-thentic, and a God who has a personal interest in them seems unimaginable. 36-4 Spiritual Resilience Spiritual resilience is diminished when there is no sense of God's providence--ttiat is, how God is "orga-nized" toward our completion.12 De Sales notes that anxi-ety breeds impatience and agitation. The soul "will excite and wear itself out in a search for escape," producing a cycle of sadness--anxiety--sadness--anxiety, which is "extremely dangerous.".~3 The soul's desire to be free of evil or to acquire some good is not misplaced. God is good and has imbued in us the instinct for good. But anxiety dis--orders our rela-tionship with God and others. It distorts the individual's understanding of the good and the way to achieve it. An anxious soldier may stop eating, become sleepless, and act angrily. Although none of these behaviors are good, the soldier adopts them as if they are good. His disordered view of the good leads to harmful action or neglect. A soldier thus weakened may fail when lives are at risk. If injury or death results, this leads to a crash of self-esteem, a spiritual and emotional crisis. Every mission in the combat zone, without excep-tion, calls for a wearying intensity that creates a taut- Rev&w for Religious bow effect. Archers with arrows always notched hold their bow under constant tension. Such tension is not eased until one is within the perimeter of a friendly camp. Even then mortar and rocket attacks, or bombs borne by per-sons or vehicles, may cause a constant wariness.14 Keep a bow too taut for too long and you may be too numb to act quickly; not keep it taut and you may be too late. The tension is compounded by months in hostile terri-tory where attacks are inevitable somewhere. The soldier's risk of casualty is an anxiety that is not shared in our civilian community. Let me suggest four themes based on my experience. Interestingly, it is not death that soldiers always fear most. (1) When we left an operati[ag base to make sense of the stirred-up population, superheated weather, and the mystery that is Iraq, I made an act of contrition. Because I do nbt carry a weapon and my bodyguard and teammates did, I often did the driving so their hands were free to fire their weapons. I prayed that if attacked I would react as rehearsed--facilitating our escape or the enemy's destruc-tion. I reviewed our plan, our first-aid procedures, and the radio procedures for calling in a medical-evacuation heli-copter (MEDEVAC). I thought through situations that might require these skills while simultaneously comforting the dying, administering the sacrament of the sick, or honoring the dead. In short, I asked God to strengthen me so that I would not let my buddies down. This concern motivated us to know our jobs, rehearse our mission, and stay in shape. Despite the self-confidence that comes from good planning, tough training, and solid leadership, an error in judgment or even a brief moment of cowardice could jeopardize others. (2) My fear of letting others down was an anxiety miti-gated by experience, training, practiced communication, and common-sense leadership. On the other hand, the fear of being maimed offered few practical remedies. The 66.4 2007 Plaushin ¯ Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety Another ground for anxiety is the fear leaders share in ordering others into combat. odd thought crossed my mind that losing one eye would not be too bad, but losing both would be worse than death. If it were a choice between losing an arm, a leg, my genitals, or some horrendous combination of these, I prayed for a quick death and one that would precede incineration in the burning fuel and exploding ordinance of my vehicle. Some risks seemed remote and conjured little anxiety. For instance, death itself or capture by a sword-wielding fanatic seemed unlikely to me; for others, such thoughts provoked concern. (3) Another ground for anxiety is the fear leaders share in ordering others into combat. Leaders up and down the chain of command balance concern for their troops with mission accomplishment. Senior officers must trust their juniors to lead, knowing mistakes and losses are inevitable; this is necessary to their maturing. (4) Anxiety also stems from separations within families. No matter how solid a relationship may be, it will be chal-lenged by fear of loss. Although digitalization has enhanced rapid and continuing communication, distance and absence increase fears by not enabling family members to embrace. Numerous counseling sessions confirm that e-mail and the telephone are two-edged swords. They allow an exchange, of information but do not permit the quality communication essential to intimacy. In fact, too much information can be transmitted, causing dis-traction and stirring up anxiety until reunion is achieved. But reunion itself also causes tension. Only by managing expectations and integrating the experience of the military deployment into the family's story will the family flourish. Review for Religious The issues above cause soldiers both appropriate concern and grist for anxiety. By "appropriate concern" I mean a savvy appreciation of the risks along with con-fidence in God's providence. Where concern has been displaced by anxiety, however, there is need for healing. A Salesian method can be summarized in three stages. (1) Challenge the soldiers to identify and describe the sorrow that burdens them. (2) Aid them in consciously turning their sorrow over to God's providential care. (3) Encourage them to experience the devout life as compat-ible with soldiering. War as the Source of Sorrow Recall that anxiety is a disordered attempt to free the soul of sorrow. Many soldiers identify the root sorrow in their soul incorrectly. They report as source what is actu-ally a presenting issue. The marriage may be in trouble, the children may be acting out, a friend may have been wounded, she may have been attacked, together they may have killed a combatant or noncombatant, or some other combination of things common to soldiering may have been experienced. Yet, as tragic as all of these may be, they veil the source. Our original misuse of free will has left us flawed and in search of authenticity. When we experience anxiety fed by fear of letting buddies down, physical trauma, leading others into harm's way, suffering a ruined relationship, or anything else, we experience sorrow that stems from our incompleteness. We grieve oversuffering a loss or anticipating one. War stirs up a profound awareness of this inadequacy--our inability to control the events, cir-cumstances, and conditions that can destroy us or those we love and the things we value. While war can be legiti-mized and even benefit the community, it is inherently destructive of the human person. Even winning does not 66.4 2007 Plaushin * Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety make us more complete, more fulfilled, or more human since war's brutality exhausts our intellect, emotions, physical being, and spiritual life. God responds to this suffering by providing the grace which completes us. This redemptive work helps us weave the experience of war into the cloth of our personal story and celebrate God's reconciliation. The role of Salesian spirituality is to promote indefatigable optimism in this process and in the human person. Many soldiers who receive God's grace do respond to his presence. They are resilient, and they integrate their experience into their life's story. This being said, an authentic response to war begins with experiencing it as miserably depleting. This either turns us inward or toward God and those wonderful others he sends to us. This brings us back to De Sales's observation that sorrow arises from either a love of God or a disordered love of self. If we see only our own selves as necessary and sufficient to make us complete, we set the stage for anxiety and the consequent disordering of our lives. If, however, we acknowledge our incompleteness and see God as the one who can make us complete, we live well.~5 We cooperate with the Father who makes good our deficiencies through the grace of Jesus Christ. Yet all disciples stand in a gap between possessing Christ and possessing fullness in Christ. This is our root sorrow. Because we do not yet possess this fullness, we hold on to the good things God gives us: Though they cannot complete us, we understandably hold on to them as evidence of his love and we fear losing them. And our fear of losing them is aggravated in the brutality and uncertainty of the war zone. Diminishment of spiritual integrity and peace sterriS from this, from an event that is disordered, dehumanizing, and destructive in its nature. The resilience to address this lack of fullness is fos-tered by grace, which in turn is characterized by a life Review for R~eligious organized for union with God. It begins with encourage-ment to consciously recognize and describe the sorrow war places on the soldier's heart--this lack of fullness, adequacy, or completeness. This is validated in confession, counseling, and group process.16 Thus a person learns to engage the dilemma of discipleship in the "valley of the shadow of death.''17 Turning War's Sorrow Over to the Father's Care Once the soldier is conscious of the sorrow stemming from the experience of war, has enumerated her palpable concerns, and has been validated, it is appropriate to chal-lenge her to turn her sorrow over to God's providential care. If she is aware that only union with God brings com-pleteness, how will she organize her personal resources to turn toward God? Salesian spirituality, like all spiritualities, explicates the gospel so disciples can adapt it to their circumstances. It provides a way of responding in a particular way to the gift of Jesus' life for us. Let us highlight ways Salesian spirituality contributes to a healthy sense of self and a proper ordering of self toward God. In his Introduction Francis de Sales treats this search for authenticity, reflecting on the disciple's "devout life," defined as a careful, frequent, and prompt response to God's love.18 This love or grace is God's relentless pres-ence wherein he offers redemption in eucharistic life. Here Jesus feeds, teaches, heals, and forgives. Soldiers who receive this grace and explore the force of war on the soul are ready to turn their sorrow over to the Father at this time and place. De Sales's guidance helps here with humility and gen-tleness. His own humble and meek lifestyle resulted in these virtues becoming synonymous with his spiritual leg-acy. Optimism, too, is present in the "gentleman saint's" 66.4 2007 Plaushin ¯ Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety spiritual patrimony. Under the master virtue of devotion, humility, gentleness, and optimism are the virtues essen-tial to a balanced, authentic response to war. The humble, gentle, and optimistic soldier is oriented toward the God who is ready to heal her in a life-sustaining embrace. This is God's gift of reconciliation, which is Jesus Christ. Jesus' continuous gift of self promotes spiritual resilience and our vocation of self-gift. Practicing these and other virtues is incarnafional and eucharistic. Jesus, real God and real man, who really died on the cross and really rose from the dead, really walks among his people now in our eucharistic life, evidenced in a consistent, evolving, sagacious communion with God in personal prayer. This communion is essential to our disposition because it is the place for turning the sor-rows of war over to the Father. The warrior is encouraged to pursue a way of discipleship that includes a lifetime encounter with word and sacrament in communion fel-lowship. Healing comes by placing oneself in the presence of God's grace in these ways. The devout life is a viable response to war and the means for placing its burden into God's providential care. The Soldier's Devout Life De Sales published the Introduction in 1609, in a Europe that was conflicted. The Protestant and Catholic Reformations spawned persecution, acrimony, and armed conflict. Intertwined with the evolving Reformation, competing visions for political, religious, and economic society contributed to wars between sovereignties then turning into modern nation-states. Interregional conflict shaped a complex and volatile international system, com-pounded by Islam's advance in the East through conquest, coercion, and cultural assimilation.~9 Francis was well respected, and many sought his coun- Review for Religious sel. Though not an army chaplain, he was known to polit-ical and military figures, and he faced rigorous service during the Catholic Reformation. During his 1594 mis-sion into Calvinist Chablais near Lake Geneva, he "lived in a fortress garrisoned by the Duke of Savoy's soldiers [and] worked to some extent under their protection in conditions of intolerable hardship and poverty, ridiculed, persecuted, attacked even physically, saying Mass day by day in icy, half-ruined churches, preaching to empty pews.''2° His pastoral paradigm serves us well. De Sales's approach was to consistendy and construc-tively engage those whose anxiety affected their self-worth or preempted their awareness of God. The Introduction guides readers from their initial desire to live the devout life through a full resolution to continue it no matter what. He offers insights into how this resolve is nour-ished by prayer and sacraments, by the practice of virtue, by turning from temptation, and by renewing their com-mitment. His concept of devotion is robust--even athletic. He uses phrases such as "spiritual agility and vivacity" and discusses devotion as a spiritual fire that "bursts into flames.''2~ Its appeal rests in the celebration of the voca-tion of charity which we all share, soldiers included. It is a vocation that places suffering in the context of our story. This is clear in his "purgative,' meditations. One that is meaningful to the soldier is "The Fifth Meditation--On Death." He writes: Consider the uncertainty of the day of your death. O my soul, thou must one day quit this body. When will it be? In a town or in the country? In the day or in the night? Will it be without warning or with warning? Will it be the result of disease or of some accident? Wilt thou have time to confess or not? Wilt thou be assisted by thy confessor and spiritual Father? Alas! We know nothing at all about these things. We only know 66.4 2007 Plausbin ¯ Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety The soldier's vocation is one of preparation, readiness, and especially action, even in the midst of uncertainty. 372 that we shall die, and always sooner than we expect.22 The warrior is near death, and it is unrealistic to imagine the situation on the battlefield otherwise, but anxiety is displaced by reflection on our vulnerability in the context of final fulfillment in the Father. The soldier's vocation is one of preparation, readiness, and especially action, even in the midst of uncertainty. Action is emphasized because superabundant char-ity is the action of God's incarnate love. Thr.ough the Holy Spirit, in the Body of Christ, we are Jesus' heal-ing presence. The vocation of charity is our response to God's incarnate gift of reconciliation and encompasses our state in life. It is a way of being in the world modeling Jesus' own vocation of self-gift. This pro-vides a healthy con-text for suffering. For the soldier, suffering while courageously doing one's duty is an indicator of spiritual resilience. Francis writes: "Among these devout people those who suffer afflictions are not overconcerned about their sufferings and never lose courage. To con-clude, look upon the eyes of the Savior who comforts them, and see how all of them together aspire to him.''2~ De Sales sees prayer and sacramental encounter as the center of the devout life. God pours upon us the grace to live the vocation of charity whereby we order ourselves toward him and others. This ordering occurs in prayer and sacrament, which are places for our spiritual transi-tion. In these places we move from our incompleteness to being filled by God's goodness. Francis emphasizes this Review for Religious when he writes, "We must pause here, Philothea [which means "soul that loves God], and I assure you that we can-not go to God the Father except through this gate.''24 When using phrases like God's grace, I mean God's presence. He is the gift that "orders" us through his teach-ing, feeding, forgiving, and healing. Thus De Sales intro-duces one of the most powerful exercises in the Salesian repertoire--calling to mind God's presence. While we may intellectually acknowledge that presence, we may not take it to heart and thus be more anxious than attentive to what is required of us in any particular time or place.2s The importance of this is found in a special vision soldiers cultivate and which we call "situational aware-ness." It signifies contextual vision because fear narrows vision and we lose our sense of the peripheral. Salesian disciples seek God as manifest in the world--even on the battlefield. Soldiers recount how, despite loss and suffer-ing, "some little thing" restored their vision of God as present and rekindled their efforts to feed, teach, heal, and forgive. This grace does not originate in a God who sits outside of our reality and to whom we nod in defer-ence from afar, but a real someone who chooses to walk with us in the dust and blast, and to break the bread with us. The devout life improves this eucharistic vision. Our response to this presence is a virtuous life, and De Sales teaches: "All men should possess all the virtues, yet all are not bound to exercise them in equal measure. Each person must practice in a special manner the virtues needed by the kind of life he is called to.''26 For example, patience and chastity are virtues pertinent to a warrior. This promotes union with God and turning away from things that distract us from him. One of the most practical sections of the Introduction is Francis's treatment of temptation. In a world where risk and consequence attend choice, the optimum opera- 66.4 2007 Plausbin * Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety tion of free will is anxiety free. Our choices are grounded in a self-concept that models Jesus' own integration of his physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual compo-nents. This appeals to soldiers because Francis's anthro-pology respects our potential for giving God glory in the day-to-day effort to "be all that we can be." The devout life is appropriate for the soldier and sets conditions for lessening or getting rid of anxieties that may afflict those who serve in combat. In this freedom, soldiers can recover spiritual resilience and refresh the imprint of the gospel in their hearts. Humility, Hope, and Providence Stephen Mansfield and Anthony Swoford's books are deficient in humility and hope, respectively. Catholic war-riors need a spirituality which helps them adapt the gospel to their lives' circumstances, not a Christocentric warrior's code. More, they must become free of anxiety, which is spiritually toxic and replaces eucharistic relationships with narcissism. If unchecked, it diminishes the capacity to deal in a healthy way with war and postconflict transitions, because these events are not put in the context of one's faith journey. The ability to celebrate Godat work in the world is disabled, as evident in Swoford's biography. Salesian spirituality builds and sustains a spiritual resilience which mitigates anxiety. It supports conscious articulation of the sorrow that war imposes on the heart and consistent turning of this sorrow over to God's providence. It reinforces commitment to the vocation of devotion that is practical and useful for Catholics on the battlefield and throughout the war zone. This spirituality celebrates the optimism, humility, gentleness, and super-abundant charity that characterize God's incarnate healing presence--Jesus Christ, Prince of Peace. Review for Religious Notes * Stephen Mansfield, The Faith of the American Solider (London: Penguin Books), p. 175. 2 Mansfield, The Faith, p. 157. 3 Mansfield, The Faith, p. 142. 4 De Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life, trans, and ed. John K. Ryan (New York: Image Books, 1972), p. 251. See Col 3:14, wherein love's relationship to other virtues is stressed. 5 De Sales, Introduction, pp. 251-252. 6 De Sales, Introduction, pp. 121-122. 7 The Catechism of the Catholic Church defines virtue as the "habitual and firm disposition to do good" (§1803). The use of the word "value" in the armed services corresponds to this--Army: loy-alty, duty, respect, selfless service, honor, integrity, and personal cour-age; Navy and Marine Corps: honor, courage, and commitment; Coast Guard: honor, respect, and devotion to duty; Air Force: integrity first, service before self, and excellence in all we do. 8 De Sales, Introduction, p. 252. 9 De Sales, Introduction, p. 251. ,0 De Sales, Introduction, p. 251. ~* De Sales, Introduction, p. 251. ,2 1 have in mind the "the economy of salvation." Providence is this effort on our behalf culminating in the incarnation. "The promise made to Abraham inaugurates the economy of salvation, at the culmination of which the Son himself will assume that 'image' and restore it in the Father's 'likeness' by giving it again its Glory, the Spirit who is 'the giver of life.'" Catechism of the Catholic Church, §705. ,3 De Sales, Introduction, p. 251. '4 Insurgents fired rocket-propelled grenades (RPGs), albeit poorly aimed, into an area of our forward-operating base (FOB) through which we had mapped a favorite running route. Our intelligence officer rec-ommended we increase our pace in that sector. Everyone chuckled-- "sort off" ~s A theme in Augustine's Confessions: "You stir man to take pleasure in praising you, because you have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you." Confessions, trans. Henry Chadwick (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991), p. 3. See also Psalm 62:2. 16 After Iraq's "capitulation" in 2003, I heard confessions of troops transitioning home. Penitents and I were in tears, moved by the events these good men endured. 375 66.4 2007 Plaushin * Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety 17 Psalm 23:4 (King James Bible). ,8 De Sales, Introduction, p. 40. ,9 The Battle of Lepanto stemmed the Ottoman advance in 1571. Francis was four. ~0 Elisabeth Stopp, A Man to Heal Differences: Essays and Talks on St. Francis de Sales (Philadelphia: St. Joseph's University Press, 1998), p. 4. This is similar to the experience of Catholic chaplains operating today out of FOBs. 2'De Sales, Introduction, pp. 40-41. 22 De Sales, Introduction, p. 60. 23 De Sales, Introduction, p. 70. 24 De Sales, Introduction, p. 81. 2s De Sales, Introduction, p. 84. 26 De Sales, Introduction, p. 122. Reflective Questions for Personal and Group Use How would I share my spirituality as a help to someone in military service? Does my lived spirituality have an effect on how I deal with anxiety? How would I see Plaushin's approach to a spirituality responding to military combat affec~:ing the way I live my spiritual life in my given circumstances? 376 Review for Religious CAROLYN HUMPHREYS Contemplative Gifts We need not live in the desert or dwell in a monastery in order to live contemplatively. Not so surprisingly, there are people in deserts and in monasteries who are not contemplatives, and people in the inner city and in prisons who are very contemplative. Living contemplatively is a way of being alive that resembles a continuous quiet flame in a world darkened by sin. The light does not shine by our doing something or making something happen. We cannot do contemplation or make it happen. Rather, we let it happen in us by graces from God. A contemplative orientation to life is an exquisite gift to us from God. This gift comes in many forms and ways. We guard and nour-ish what we receive by a manner of living that is rooted in humility. When we open contem-plative gifts with care and treasure their con- Carolyn Humphreys OCDS, a registered occupational therapist, last wrote for us in early 2004. She produces a four-page quarterly, Mary's Garden, from 7101 E. Rosecrans Avenue, #159; Paramount, California 90723; U.S.A. prayer in our life 1377 66.4 2007 Humpbreys ¯ Contemplative Gifts 378 tents, we find we are no better or holier than anyone else. Rather, we are one with all wounded and sinful humanity. When we perceive all humanity as equal, there is no incli-nation to feel greater or lesser than those of another race, nationality, religion, or ability. This manner of living is a great gift indeed. This self-knowledge is a dear teacher. It is present in all contemplative awareness. This inner knowledge tells us that we are the ones responsible for our feelings, behavior, and actions. To avoid blaming or projecting our negativity on others is a sound step forward on the contemplative path. Cooperation with .God's still small voice within gives us wisdom greater than our own, and thereby keeps inap-propriate comments about others in check. Self-knowl-edge does not occur without common sense. Common sense tells us many things. People who are levelheaded are more apt to keep confidences than those who engage in frivolous or malicious gossip. Individuals who know their true selves are humble and are serious about stay-ing away from negative influences. We ask God that we may be receptive when he reveals us to ourselves. This is a courageous prayer, because such self-knowledge is hard to take. We grow spiritually, however, by learning more about ourselves through being receptive to grace in whatever form it takes. When self-knowledge increases, we are able to live in God's presence more fully. We live in the presence of God when we have the ability to discern his presence within us and around us. Our lives are quite ordinary, but we notice the extraordi-nary in our days. God is at the kitchen stove, office desk, and bathroom sink. We recognize his presence, and so we are fully attentive to What is in the present moment. We recognize the level of our ability to love when we seem empty of love, when we seem full of love, and at all levels in between. ,Together with our level of ability to love, we Reviezv for Religious acknowledge our ever present need for God's grace, and acknowledge that our thirst for God is never quenched. Living in God's presence helps us let go of concerns during our daily prayer so we can simply be present to his life and love. No matter how much we have to do, it is not what we do, - but who we are, that defines us as unique persons. If all we do is "do," we can eas-ily destroy the reality of who we are in the sight of God. Doing things well is not a substitute for well --- being. Finding our identity in the many things we do can detract from who we really are as humble persons in the light of God's love. If we keep our eyes open and focus on gospel teach-ing when we pray, we gradually learn to see the world with the eyes of Christ. No longer do we walk around in a befuddled state, or tend to our duties in a preoccupied way. Our heads are neither in the clouds nor in the sand. We concentrate on, and respond to, that which goes on within and around us at the moment, in the light of God's love. This orientatioh enables us to go beyond the obvi-ous and look for what cannot be seen, such as inner hurts, hopes, unspoken needs and dreams. A contemplative way of being is evident in an out-look on life that influences our behavior with the positive, affirming, loving transcendence of God. This transcen-dence bonds the infinite goodness of God with the finite people and things of earth. In our day it is a continual challenge to maintain such an outlook. We are limited beings, and the temptation to deny, regress, or avoid con- If alt we do :is "do," we can easily destroy the reality of who we are in the sight of God. 379 66.4 2007 Humphreys ¯ Contemplative Gifts 380 flictive or derogatory thoughts always seems to be with us. In a contemplative way of being, however, we face the reality of these thoughts with honesty and courage. This helps us become more loving. It takes work, though, and a resistance to self-indulgence. If we look as objectively as we can at the opposing aspects of our daily choices, we step away from whatever causes negativism or self-absorp-tion. We move forward to what gives us a clearer perspec-tive on the possible results of our choices. To find beauty in the broken places and troubled areas of our lives is a constant component of our contemplative gifts. In doing this, we look at what is in our hands and hearts and find peace instead of turbulence. The more we are sustained by our trust in God, the easier we find him in all that passes in and out of our hands and our lives. We see Jesus more clearly as our minds become free of rejections and afflictions. We sit down, sit still, and really listen to the still small voice of God. Only with the passing of time, and the help from grace, do we become more alert to the world within us. We must be watchful because this world is easily obscured by the world outside us. Through the energy of grace, the effects of contem-plative gifts flow from the inside out. The degree of our awareness of these gifts develops in concurrence with many factors. We are fascinated by how God works in ourselves and in others. Seeing God thusly liberates us from interrupting people with trivial incidents concern-ing ourselves. We listen to others with an open heart and mind by focusing on them. We are aware of what they are saying, how they are saying it, and what their behav-ior reveals. Learning when to talk and when to be quiet refines our humility. The more we seek God, the more our self-absorption diminishes. A marker of our seeking is the sparing use of sentences containing the words 1, me, or my. There is no burning need to prove our point, Review for Religious manifest our intelligence, proclaim our opinion, or prate about our experiences. When we are seeking God, we respectfully listen to what people tell us and refrain from forming our responses or nourishing our prejudices while they are talking. We listen as a friend or confidant rather than as an adversary or advisor. Silence Is Golden Love for silence is a contemplative gift. Silence becomes a gem that is sought, treasured, and reverenced. To be comfortable with the silence of God, of others, and of ourselves is rare and beautiful. Silence nurtures us far more than we will ever understand. It becomes the primary way in which we grow in love. In the early stages we discover the many ways in which love can be posses-sive or self-centered. When we observe quietly, we may see people using others as objects of pleasure or using them to complete their character by filling their needs and inadequacies. We realize that no one should be used as an object or extension of someone else. Our silence enables us to be signs for others of God's presence and peace, even when life's storms come our way. During disturbing times we use silence to think things through before taking action. We are not overwhelmed by all that we have to do. We break down large, intimidating, time-consuming tasks into manageable segments. We han-dle them one hour at a time. These periods then resemble stepping stones across a river. We give our attention to one stone at a time. In doing so, we are on the other side of the river before we know it. If we do not keep our con-centration on the stone at hand, we may slip and fall in. Or, if we do not even attempt the first stone, we will end up finding a longer, harder way to get across. Taking life one step at a time gives us time to visit our inner sanctuary, our place of. rest. After we finish 381 66.4 2007 Humpbreys ¯ Contemplative Gifts Taking life one step at a time gives us time to visit our inner sanctuary, our place of rest. 382 one thing and before we start another, we can rest in our sanctuary and think deep, serious, playful, or lightsome thoughts. A better option is just to gaze quietly upon the heart of Christ. Like crossing the river, we move toward God small step by small step. We move onward inch by inch rather than waste time on hurry, or worry about the pile of work ahead of us. When God becomes our primary reality, many positive things happen to us. All that seemed important before God entered our lives takes on an insig-nificance that truly surprises us. To be faithful to the contemplative way when the going gets rough takes patience and fortitude. The con-templative way is manifest in the tranquillity of order. The more our lives are centered on Jesus, the more these traits will develop: we pray consistently, eat moderately, dress modestly, exercise appropriately, use money wisely, speak quietly, and treat others with dignity. We spend our leisure time in carefree activities, and read and use the media in ways that instruct or uplift. Our homes are simple and cozy. We conduct ourselves well and deal with our family and others with respect and grace. Rather than grumble, we do something about what causes a com-plaint. We work with concentration and good humor. Our motives are clear and direct. The quality of each day is more important than the quantity of things we do or the places we go. In dark times we may not understand what is happening, but somehow we know God is there. We trust in God and hope for the best. Indeed, there are Review for Religious many times when we lose a treasure only to find a greater treasure or lose our way only to find God's way. The contemplative way is mostly a way of silence and darkness. We want to speak about God, but we realize that images,' analogies, and words fall short. Nothing we can say seems adequate. Words are a hindrance because, although we ardently seek God, we can never really find him. If we think we have found God in our words and definitions, it is not really God, but only our own fal-tering concept about God, who is all mystery. We never fully grasp who God is. We move toward God with open hearts in the silent night. We move ahead wordless in the unknown but holy darkness. Even though God is beyond all mere human thoughts or definitions, we persevere in communing with him through prayer. It is our lifeline. To a contemplative, prayer is as important and as natural as a heart beating. Prayer is the energy that makes our spiritual lives go, and the rock that never lets us give up hope. In the inner atmosphere of prayer, we are one with God and all cre-ation. Awareness of this unity with all is at a deeper level of consciousness than that of normal life. A contempla-tive outlook is one of continual spiritual wonder. There is an awe at the sacredness of all life, which reflects the love that flows from the S6urce of life. A contemplative outlook sees without seeing, in a profound depth of faith, and knows without knowing, in knowledge too deep to understand. We know God to the extent that we are invis-ibly touched by him who has no hands. To know this is to awaken to him who is the most real. We realize God's tre-mendous love and respond to it from our deepest depths. To become all that God meant us to be is to find our true selves in Christ. To be so in touch with what is truly real lets the authenticity of our lives reach out and touch that which is most authentic in others. 66.4 2007 Humpbreys ¯ Contemplative Gifts Contemplation is a journey of love through realistic care for others. We, who are connected with all people by the strong bonds of prayer, give to them by prayer, and through the appropriate use of our talents. Yes, a con-templative way of life grows from roots in quiet prayer. Quiet prayer results in quiet listening, fine-tuned obser-vation, a giving of ourselves and a daily openness to God's mysteries and wonder. Seasoned contemplatives are well mellowed by years of quiet prayer content with mystery and wonder. They use their talents well, and are at home with themselves. The self is forgotten. Their focus on others makes their presence a transparent gift: there are no strings. The gift shows itself in people's ability to see that the givers discover, appreciate, and make wise use of the treasures hidden in everyone and everything that comes along. Being a contemplative is a never-ending liberation. We are alone but not lonely, because we are in communion with Jesus, who resides in our hearts. He is our anchor and our compass. We are one with others because we wrap them with our prayer. Other people rarely intimi-date us, because we forgive them easily and know our own unique gifts. We become more receptive, more grateful, more filled with grace. Faith is far from abstract theory; rather, it is an everyday reality sometimes shrouded in mystery. Wonder is always with us, for we look beyond appearances, set aside prejudices, and change what keeps us closed in on ourselves. As long as we move ahead, we see God in everything and thereby sense a greater unity with God who is all. As we travel on the path of love, we give away the fruits of our contemplative gifts. We also sing songs of God's love and praise, which, as Newman suggests, seem to always echo in our hearts: Review for Religious Praise to the Holiest in the height And in the depth be praise; In all his words most wonderful, Most sure in all his ways! Some Contemplative Scripture Points 1. "If you, with all your sins, know how to give your children good things, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him." Luke 11:13 2. "No one knows the Son except the Father and no one knows the Father except the Son -- and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him." Luke 10:22 3. "There are different gifts but the same Spirit; there are different ministries but the same Lord; there are different works but the same God who accomplishes all of them in everyone. To each person the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the common good." 1 Co 12:4-7 66.4 2007 ELISSA RINERE Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life T time spent in preparing this article was, quite nesdy, a personal spiritual journey. One difficulty has been that every aspect of Christian life is a reflection of the Eucharist. The Eucharist "speaks" everything. It is all-encompassing. A dilemma arises, whether to begin with some reflections on the Eucharist and then find reli-gious life within them, or begin with some reflections on religious life and then come to a focus on the Eucharist. One author I read stated the situation very well. Eucharist implies coherence: it brings all the disparate elements of the church into unity, tending to one end, one goal, one truth.~ Religious life finds its coherence here. In canon law the Eucharist has different aspects: the celebration of the Mass, the sacrament to be received, and the sacrament reserved in a tabernacle for adoration. We can consider what these three aspects might mean in relation to our way of life in the church. Elissa Rinere CP, a canon lawyer, is Coordinator of Pastoral Planning and Director of the Office of Worship of the diocese of Norwich, Connecticut. Her address is 7E Westchester Hills; Colchester, Connecticut 06415. Review for Religious We begin by making two observations. First, the Eucharist is larger than religious life. The goal of being a eucharistic community is the goal of everyone who shares in the sacrament-of baptism. It is the mandate given to us in the Gospels. Second, the vision of what would be if we could give a pure response to this awesome mystery is different from the practice that we human beings come up with at various times in history. The vision is celestial and the practice is terrestrial. Our challenge is to bring these two things into harmony. The Eucharist as Celebration Yesterday. When I was in grade school (a public school), my friends and I went to Sunday Mass "religiously." We would, however, sit behind the stairs in the back of the church and have contests about who could find the old-est saint in the pages of our St. Andrew's Missals. We paid attention to Mass only at the consecration, when the bell rang. From behind the stairs we could not see the altar, but we did stop talking. No matter how poor our behavior, we were sure that we were fulfilling our Sunday obligation just by being there. The prayer belonged to the priest, and the people watched. Today. We say today that theology emphasized the "confection" of the Eucharist and now emphasizes "cel-ebration.'' 2 The most august sacrament is the Most Holy Eucharist in which Christ the Lord himself is contained, off-ered, and received and by which the church continu-ally lives and grows. The eucharistic sacrifice . . . is the summit and source of all worship; it signifies and effects the unity of the people of God and brings about the building up of the body of Christ. Indeed, the other sacraments and all the ecclesiastical works of the apostolate are closely connected with the Most Holy Eucharist and ordered to it. (Canon 897)3 66.4 2007 Rinere ¯ Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life 388 In speaking of the Eucharist today, we would probably use the terminology of this canon, since it comes directly from the documents of Vatican Council II. The Eucharist is Christ himself. In the celebration we have the source and summit of all the church's life. That is, everything we do comes from and is brought back to the Eucharist. Every celebration is an action of the whole church. Every celebration is a sign of, and brings about, the unity of the people of God. The liturgy is the exercise, not only of the ordained priesthood, but also of the baptismal priest-hood. There was quite a journey from the focus on the confection of the Eucharist to the current focus on cel-ebration. Journey. Celebration of the Eucharist was, according to reputable authors, one of the most hotly debated top-ics of Vatican II. The manner of celebrating Eucharist is important in itself, but also because it brings a specific image of the church into existence. That is, the Eucharist is not merely a ritual; it is a creative force within the community. It is the way we express and create what we believe to be the true nature of the church. Singing our hearts out and saying the rosary fervently give different images of the church. The work of the Vatican Council to revise the cel-ebration of the Eucharist Was looked on by many as the work of the devil, an error bordering on heresy, which would destroy the church and turn us all into heretics. When the new rite of the Mass was implemented on 30 November 1969, some protesters poured red dye into fountains around Rome as a sign of mourning. "The waters of Rome run red, just as the waters of Egypt were transformed into blood" at the death of the firstborn.4 The celebration of the Eucharist became a rallying point for those opposed to the reform of the church because liturgical changes were the most obvious evi- Review for Religious dence of the reform. The council's Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy (Sacrosanctum concilium, SC) is a marvel of compromise, especially in the areas of language, music, and lay participation . Concerning language, the use of vernacular was encouraged, but Latin was to remain in use (SC §36). Forms of music other than Gregorian chant were encouraged, but Gregorian chant was to be retained (SC §116). Even the musical instruments native to a given country were to be employed, but the pipe organ was to retain "pride of place" among them (SC §120). Regarding lay participation, there was to be some dis-tribution of ministries within the liturgy. In the theology of confection, the priest functioned virtually alone. In the theology of celebration, there were to be authentic litur-gical ministries for the laity in virtue of their baptismal priesthood. This was objected to by those who feared an inappropriate equalizing of the two priesthoods, with lay ministries obscuring the "subordinate" nature of the bap-tismal priesthood. The revised liturgy was seen by many as an abuse of authority that removed from the church's faithful any obligation of obedience. The changes were described as "the tearing of the seamless robe of Christ, which is the church's unity.''s The best-known opponent of the liturgical renewal was Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre, who established the Society of St. Pius x in the 1970s. He wrote in 1974: "We close our ears to the destructive novelties now found in the church.''6 Through the pontificate of Paul VI, the liturgical renewal continued to move forward despite objections. The Eucharist is not merely a ritual; it is a creative force within the community. 66.4 2007 Rinere ¯ Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life Later on, there were several instances of a slowing of the renewal. Some would say there has been a "pulling back" from some of the foundational principles of the reform movement. In early April 2007, an item on the Catholic News Service website announced that a policy was in the works to restore some use of the Tridentine Mass in the whole church. (It was being used only by permission of diocesan bishops.) The article said that the restoration was aimed at "ending a liturgical dispute which has simmered in the church for more than twenty years" and thus bringing greater unity. [Benedict xvI issued the document on July 7, 2007. (ed.)] Why have I brought up all this history? I did it to point out that the celebration of Eucharist--the source and summit of the church's life--has been a hotbed of controversy, not just for decades but for centuries, and that we manage to go forward only through dialogue, discus-sion, and compromise. Little by little, despite difficulties, the celebration is becoming more diverse, more incultur-ated, allowing for more and more differences of opinion. From all reports, liturgical changes will continue to be announced. Pope Benedict, in the apostolic exhortation recently published, mentions the possibility of the Sign of Peace being moved to some other spot. And, of course, there remain difficulties concerning the new translation of the Roman Missal, which is a topic for another day. Connection to Religious Life The theological vision of the Eucharist as celebration is the unity of the church. The church, of course, is all the people of God, all the baptized. For religious life, then, within this great vision is the goal of unity toward which we progress through our human practices. In contrast to the vision, ways of celebrating the Eucharist keep disturb-ing some. Forty years ago it was a tug-of-war between Review for Religious traditionals and progressives. Today a new element has been added: those who find the Eucharist unacceptably clerical, exclusionary, hierarchical, or rigid. For these peo-ple, Eucharist is often a painful experience of oppression rather than a time of prayer and unity. Hopefully they find better experiences elsewhere. All these points of view on the celebration of the Eucharist are found in some religious communities. Can Eucharist be a point of unity in them? It depends, I think, on whether people are willing to compromise for the sake of one another. This becomes, then, a question of ecclesiology. Religious life is called to be prophetic in the church. What visions of the church are present in our communi-ties? We constantly seek practices of celebration that will bring us closer to the theological vision of unity. °- Inasmuch as the practice of the Eucharist as cel-ebration has continually moved forward, has never stagnated, and has always sought better balance between conflicting prin-ciples by becoming appro-priately inclusive and diverse, it is, in my opinion, mirrored in religious life. We can see ourselves reflected in the evolu-tion, the tensions, the struggles to do the right thing. If the Eucharist is not at the heart of our unity, but rather a point of strife and division, we should discuss not the Eucharist, but rather what it means to be church, prophet, and peacemaker. Where we do not dialogue and do not discuss, compromise, forgive, and accept what we might not prefer for the sake of the common good, the Eucharist itself may not help much. Eucharist is often a painful experience of oppression :rather than a time of prayer and unity. ,391 66.4 2007 Rinere * Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life Eucharist as Sacrament to Be Received Why discuss receiving the received Eucharist sepa-rately from celebration? Besides having some distinct characteristics, reception has undergone some signifi-cant developments. In today's theological vision, it can be described as multilevel communion: inner communion with Jesus and intercommunion with all others who share the Body and Blood of Christ. Yesterday. Those who recall the early years of the 20th century before Vatican II may have observed some people receiving Communion rather rarely. Only priests distributed Communion, and only the consecrated hosts were distributed, not the chalice with the precious Blood. Returning silently to their places in the pews, communi-cants knelt reverendy and, bowing their heads, communed adoringly with the Lord they had just received. Receiving Communion was an act of public and private devotion. Today the changes are clear. Receiving Communion is frequent. Few people stay in their places and refrain from receiving. "Extraordinary" Eucharistic ministers are com-mon. Communicants may receive in the hand or not, and Communion under both species is common. Receiving Communion is a natural consequence, of being present at the celebration. The 2002 General Instruction of the Roman Missal describes the distribution of the Eucharist as a procession in which part.icipants come forward as a community, sing, and receive Communion. Sharing in Communion is to actualize the Eucharistic community and also to foster a personal relationship with Christ. Not long afterwards the Eucharistic community is dismissed with the commission to be Eucharist to those they encoun-ter. St. Augustine is often quoted as writing "Receive who you are, and be the One you have received." The "energy" surrounding the reception of the Eucharist has changed from being personal and inward Review for Religious to being outward, communal, ministerial, and unifying. Receiving the Eucharist commissions us to inner prayer, but also to the service of others--to be bread broken. Our service of others comes from our unity in Christ. Journey. The history of the liturgical renewal focuses on practices and attitudes. In the history of the Eucharist as sacrament, the two most universally accepted innova-tions were the reception of Communion in the hand and the distribution of Communion by the laity. These were never really wanted by the church authorities who were regulating the reform. In 1968 the bishops of Belgium and Germany asked permission to experiment with Communion in the hand because it was a faster method of distribution. When the experiment ended three years later, the people refused to give up the option. Finally, in 1974, all efforts to eliminate the practice were stopped. With some similarities, extraordinary ministers have been reluctantly permitted to function since 1969. As late as 2006, official documents have reminded the whole church of how "inappropriate" this ministry is for the noncleric. Catholics still feel more comfortable with receiving the Eucharist as an act of personal devotion. Witness the difficulties of implementing the liturgical principles connected with the Communion procession: People do not sing, many still rush the line, many leave the church early. I suggest also that people are not enthusiastic about "Eucharist received" as a commission to ministry. Nor are people quick to realize the unity fostered by their sharing in the Body and Blood of Christ. Religious Life. From my experience of religious com-munities, I have the impression that many religious pre-fer the personal and devotional aspects of receiving the Eucharist to the ministerial aspects--the outward ser-vice- and only afterward the unifying aspects of being 66.4 2007 Rinere ¯ Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life "Eucharist received:'; is certainly re qected in the service every Christian renders to others. part of the Eucharistic community. There is a tendency, after personal devotion, to be more invested in service to others than in service to one another in our religious communities--even though service to community mem-bers comes, of course, from our being united by our shar-ing in the Eucharist. "Eucharist received" is certainly reflected in the service every Christian renders to others. However, Eucharist received also should be reflected in those rela-tionships which are closest. For instance, within families the Eucharistic bond is intended to be effective-- real--between spouses and parents and children. This Eucharistic bond forms the "domestic church" that is at the heart of mar-riage. For religious, the Eucharistic bond must be at the heart of commu-nity relationships--a true force holding the community together. Most women religious no longer live in large institutional settings where they would form the daily Eucharistic community at Mass. Nowadays the unify-ing force of the Eucharist, wherever members share in it, should find its .first and most clear reflection at home, where we live with each other. Discussion, or any way of reflecting in community life the Eucharist as sacrament received, would best not focus on the Eucharist as such, but on the quality of our com-munity life, the Eucharistic character of our relationships with one another. What are the Eucharistic characteristics of relation-ships? What are the Eucharistic characteristics of com-munity relationships? How do we call one another to Review for Religious be Christ for each other in community? W-here is the Eucharist we receive effective in our communities? Groups that grapple with questions like these do not seek clear and definitive answers. Rather, they seek bonding, shar-ing one another's weaknesses, failures, successes, foibles. Perhaps being Eucharistic means forgiving and accepting rather than getting things right. If we can struggle with these kinds of questions, with this level of honesty, we will experience our religious life as mirroring our "Eucharist received." Our reception of the Eucharist will inspire an expanding vision; our act of private devotion will seek fulfillment in service to others and unity with those closest to us. Eucharist as Object of Adoration Let us now consider the Eucharist as an object of adoration. This aspect of the Eucharist has a significant history in the church, although such devotional practices as benediction and exposition did not develop until the 12th century or later. Historically, Eucharistic devotions originated as ways to safeguard and emphasize the doc-trine of the Real Presence. Benediction, exposition, and processions were theologically inspired rites intended to confirm the faith of the faithful on this point. The Real Presence, of course, suggests adoration. And theological vision sees adoration as finding a ritual completeness in celebration and other worthy activity. Nourishment from the Eucharist gives strength for carrying out apostolic action. Yesterday. Again, older people will recall the not uncommon practices of concluding Mass with benedic-tion or having exposition during Mass. Every parish had its time for Forty Hours Devotion. The architecture of churches called attention to the tabernacle and the Real Presence. Today we are seeing some resurgence of tradi- 66.4 2007 Rinere ¯ Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life 396 tional devotions, even a return to traditional architecture. But is it merely a return of what was, or has there been some degree of transformation? Today. In his recent apostolic exhortation Sacramenturn caritatis, Pope Benedict speaks of the intrinsic relationship between Eucharistic adoration and Eucharistic celebra-tion. He says the relationship is much more clearly seen since the liturgical renewal brought about by Vatican II. He refers, of course, to the years it has taken to find a bal-ance between the Eucharist seen in celebration and recep-tion, and the interior and personal aspects of Eucharistic devotions and adoration. Journey. Vatican II set out the basic principle that devotional practices are to "harmonize with the liturgi-cal seasons, accord with sacred liturgy, [be] in some way derived from it, and lead the people to it, since in fact the liturgy by its very nature is far superior to any of them" (SC §13). Echoing this principle, Pope Benedict calls ado-ration of the Blessed Sacrament a "natural consequence" of the celebration, which "intensifies all that takes place during the celebration itself" (§66). Devotions that do not relate to the celebration of the Eucharist, that do not call to mission and community and lead back to the celebra-tion of the Mass, are incomplete. That is, adoration is completed by outward relationships. Consider for a minute that a part of the renewal sur-rounding eucharistic devotions concerned the placement of tabernacles in churches. An instruction published in 1967 stated the principle of why tabernacles should not be on the altar: In the celebration of the Mass the principal modes of Christ's presence to his church emerge clearly, one after the other: first he is seen to be present in the assembly of the faithful gathered in his name; then in his word, with the reading and explanation of Scripture; also in Review for Religious the person of the minister; finally, in a singular way, under the eucharistic elements. Consequently, on the grounds of the sign value, it is more in keeping with the nature of the celebration that, through reserva-tion of the sacrament in the tabernacle, Christ not be present eucharistically from the beginning on the altar where Mass is celebrated. (Instruction E~¢charisticum mysterium, 25 May 1967, §55) From that one principle came the years of wrangling over the placement of tabernacles in churches. The argu-ments went from on or off the altar to in or out of the sanctuary, from the body of the church to a side chapel. No clear consensus ever emerged, so now all disputes are settled by the diocesan bishop. The questions on tabernacles are relate~l to how peo-ple understand the Eucharistic presence of Christ in the Mass and the various other modes of his presence in the celebration of the Mass. Before Vatican II, Eucharistic devotions acknowledged the Real Presence in the taber-nacle and tended to ignore the other modes of Christ's presence. It seems these devotions had to disappear while the community became more familiar with the presence of Christ in the assembly, the word, and the priest; and the tabernacle had to move so we would find Christ in one another. Now we see a resurgence of Eucharistic devotions in many parishes and religious houses. This resurgence could be a regression to what was, inner adoration for its own sake, or it could be a reworking or a reweav-ing of the inward and outward aspects of the presence of Christ. Pope Benedict said in the apostolic exhortation: "If suitably updated, traditional Eucharistic devotions are worthy of being practiced today" (§68). In other words, insofar as the traditional Eucharistic devotions are united to and balanced with the celebration of the Mass, both are enriching. If either branch of Eucharistic expression loses 397 66.4 2007 398 Rinere * Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life touch with the other, the mutual enrichment is frustrated. If the inner life of adoration does not enrich the outward impulse to service, the fullness of the Eucharistic reality is lost. If the outward impulse to service is not personal-ized by an inner adoration, the fullness of the Eucharistic reality is lost. This balance between inner devotion to the Real Presence in the Eucharist and outward service to the Real Presence in others is the goal for all Christians. We undertake action for justice when Christ is really present for us in one another. Religious Life. At the time of the council, the Eucharistic life of the church had not changed in a long time. The council presented the challenge of renewing and updating our Eucharistic worship and devotions so they reflected a balance between inner tradition and outward action. Now hear that again, with some words changed: At the time of the council, religious life had not changed in a long time. The council presented the challenge of renewing and updating our way of life so that it reflected a balance between inner tradition and outward action. Those who entered our communities in the 1960s happily and gloriously threw off old trappings of reli-gious life as we moved into the 20th century from the 17th, 18th, or 19th. In my own community we jettisoned what kept us inward, cloistered, separated from the world around us. Just as Eucharistic life of the church seeks the balance between tradition and progress, religious communities need the same cautious pursuit. Thus, discussions about Eucharistic adoration .might really be about whether our way of life is or is not balanced between tradition and progress. In the past forty years, have we progressed well in all things? What did we remove from our lives and why? Did we eliminate anything that we need now to hold us Review for Religious together? Did we erase anything that spoke clearly of who we are and what we are about? How can we more. effectively weave past, present, and future together? I do not know the answers to these questions, but wouldn't they make for some interesting conversation at community gatherings? There is much talk these days about women religious being "invisible" in the church. There is much mutter-ing about traditional communities having many vocations while progressive communities do not. Can the struggle to find a balance between inward Eucharistic adoration and outward service be instruc-tive here? Religious life, too, seeks a path of fidelity. We have looked at three aspects of the all-encompassing topic of the Eucharist. Regarding Eucharist as celebration, Eucharist as sacrament received, and Eucharist as object of adoration, we traced some struggles of the last forty years. Can we see ourselves reflected in the mystery which is the "source and summit" of all Christian life? Are we celebratory despite our differences? Can we compromise for the common good? Are we Eucharistic in our deal-ings with one another within community? Are our lives a good balance between tradition and progress, between adoration and action, between yesterday and tomorrow? Looking into such questions would bring Eucharist to the center of the room. It would become more clear to us that the source and summit of the church's life is the source and summit of our lives as well, for "the other sac-raments and all the ecclesiastical works of the apostolate are closely connected with the Most Holy Eucharist and ordered to it" (canon 897). Notes ' Paul Quenon ocso, "The Eucharist: Symbol of Coherence," in The Sacraments: Readings in Contemporary Sacramental Theology, ed. Michael Taylor SJ (New York: Alba House, 1981), p. 145. 399 66.4 2007 Rinere ¯ Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life 2 Joseph Powers SJ, "Eucharist, Mystery of Faith and Love," in Taylor, Sacraments, p. 119. 3 Code of Canon Law: Latin-English Edition (Washington, D.C.: CLSA, 1999). 4 Annibale Bugnini, The Reform of the Liturgy: 1948-1975 (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1990), p. 289. 5 Bugnini, p. 280. 6 Bugnini, p. 294. 7 See Bugnini, pp. 640-661. 400 Fool's Gold Golden moon of year's end, fiat in the sky, sliding, shrouded, out again, high. No denomination marks its face-- not harvest or prairie, blue moon or silver: no song or moan just moon, alone. But I, contented, lie under this wintry sky chewing on pieces of winter moon tasting of June. Eilee~ Haugh OSF Review for Reli~ous A. PAUL DOMINIC The Christ Child, the Father of the Man For all the humbleness of Christ's birth as Luke portrays it, there is no denying the glamour of Christmas, however people perceive it and adapt theinselves into it. It was so at the first Christmas. The shepherds, the Magi, and Herod all behaved differently. The yearly Christmas in our days smacks of different traditions in differ-ent places. Also, the glamour in church is differ-ent from that of the market; people are attracted or repulsed. But surely there is room for some new traditions, if only they are sensitively cre-aged and sensibly introduced. To start with, however, it is worth discerning what is definitely good and downright bad in the usual responses to Christmas. One may contrast here the experience of Christian children with that of the secular publicJ Christian children celebrating Christmas have an innocence and A. Paul Dominic SJ wrote for us earlier this year, in our 66.2 issue. His new address is Human Development Centre; Port Mourant; Corentyne; Guyana, South America. Jesus and Mary 401 66.4 2007 Dominic ¯ The Christ Child, the Father of the Man 402 insight worthy of the true splendor of Christmas, reveal-ing it particularly in their mirth, as G.K. Chesterton has noted. The same thing cannot be said of the merely sec-ular Christmas, an expensive seasonal festival in winter attracting all and sundry. If the commercial Christmas catering to compulsive spending mars the innocent glam-our of Christmas, recent campaigns for the abolition of even the word Christmas would achieve a mere mimicry of Christmas devoid of mirth and glamour. Common among Catholics (at least in India) is another scenario, one they are fond of. Although they are not ignorant of the basic truth of Christmas, they are not well enough informed to appreciate, much less appropriate, the genuine glamour of what they celebrate. They have remained more or less with the same glimpse of Christmas as they had in their childhood. Their enjoy-ment of Christmas has remained stuck in the categories of the child-mind, that has however lost its intuitive spiritual ~ision. So they almost make an idol of the Christ Child, or at least diminish him in their own eyes. Such a rou-tine and even stunted devotion readily becomes a cult of the Infant Jesus carried on throughout the year, even during Lent and the Easter season. Such a popular cult with its unholy accretions--not the least of which is the mushrooming of miracles reminiscent of those reported in the apocryphal gospels--has prospered in India and caused Infant Jesus shrines to be built that attract not only Christians but also Hindus and Muslims. In such vagaries or caricatures of piety, one cannot but suspect something unwholesome and un-Christian. An illustra-tion of this would be a simple Hindu asking a Catholic if the Infant Jesus is a God different from the Christ on the cross. One may compare this to what a biblical scholar says about the Christmas crib. He does .not deny Francis of Assisi's contribution to Christmas when he made the Review for Religious first creche to illustrate the infancy gospels, but he says: "One can appreciate that enormous contribution and still be obliged to wonder whether, through fostering maud-lin sentimentality, the crib/creche might in certain circum-stances become false to the main theological purposes of those narratives." 1 Surely, then, the devotion to the Infant Jesus can-not follow the ancient apocryphal fervor or the modern materialistic route, but must derive, as always, from divine inspiration. The litur-gical inspiration based on Scripture has a pri-mary place. As the old saying goes, lex orandi, lex credendi (the law of prayer is the law of belief). The populaF Infant Jesus devotion has got it wrong,, pro-moting the supposed -- saying of the Infant Jesus in an apparition: "The more you honor me the more I will bless you." This reflects the gosPel tradition regarding Jesus' infancy only minimally. On the other hand, the liturgy, with its true springs of devotion, spreads out the mystery of Christ during the year, including the annunciation to Mary and the birth of her Son, his passion, death, resurrection, and ascension, and the coming of the Holy Spirit. Such thinking is in line with what the pristine church came to discover before the close of the first century. After pondering the Lordship of Christ revealed in his death and resurrection, it came to realize his Lordship at his very birth. The early Christians intuited, as shown in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, that Christ was the Lord at his birth, indeed, at his very coriception. John The devotion to the Infant Jesus canno't follow the ancient apocryphal fervor or the modern materialistic route. 66.4 2007 Dominic ¯ The Christ Child, the Father of the Man 404 made bold to say that the only-begotten Son of God became flesh, to be identified as Christ. Inheriting the full intuition of the evangelists faithfully enough, every gen-eration of Christians must learn to embrace the whole of the mystery of Christ. The only way open to us is that we reverse the way the first generation traversed, beginning where they ended and ending where they began. What they could understand only backwards, from the end, we start from the beginning. So we may frame a question as follows. Knowing that Christmas is not a self-contained mystery suitable for children and guarded by conservators, how can adult Christians celebrate and enjoy it for what it is, namely, an incipient open-ended mystery? A simple answer, already hinted at, is that we ought to be forward looking, developing an eschatological sensitivity. An initial clue may be found in Luke's telling of Christ's birth as following upon John's. At his birth John was very special to his parents and even their neighbor-hood. For all that, however, their focus was on the future; they wondered, "What will this child be?" That was the way they were interested in him as a unique individual of exceptional worth and grace. "For the hand of the Lord was with him" (Lk 1:66). However glorious he was at his birth, reminiscent of Isaac, Samson, and Samuel, it was no more than a measure of his future. Rightly, then, his father Zechariah gave voice to the unanimous expecta-tion of his neighbors, uttering a prophecy about his long-awaited son: And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins. By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. (Lk 1:76-79) Review for Religious In the story of Jesus, too, the same pattern of inter-est is noticeable. When Jesus was born and the news was made known to others, the focus was on what was to follow. If the shepherds told the details of the newborn child, it was not to glorify him in his swaddling clothes and perpetuate him in the manger; rather, the minutiae surrounding him were signs of what he was destined to be. Born a savior, he would prove himself a born savior, though one of an unexpected sort: he would save his peo-ple from their sins. The infant Savior was then and there no perfect Savior, if one may dare put it that way, for he was to become perfect in time's due course. Explicitly averring so in an early passage (5:8-9), the Letter to the Hebrews expatiates upon it later: When Christ came into the world, he said, "Sacrifices and offerings you have not desired, but a body you have prepared for me; in burnt offerings and sin offerings you have taken no pleasure. Then I said, 'See, I have come to do your will, O God.'" . . . When he said above "You have neither desired nor taken pleasure in sacrifices and offerings and burnt offerings and sin offerings," then he added, "See, I have come to do your will." He abolishes the first in order to establish the second. And it is by God's will that we have been sanc-tified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all. (Heb 10:5-10) Besides Savior, another title of the infant Jesus was King, both in Luke and Matthew. The glory of any infant king lies in his future. So when the Angel Gabriel announced to Mary God's plan for her, he did not con-fine himself to remarks about the pleasant or miracu-lous details of Jesus' birth or status; rather, he went on to describe intently his purposeful destiny. Born in the line of King David, he would himself be a king in his own right, but, unlike David, would exercise his king-ship without end. Something of that future both King 405 66.4 2007 Dominic ¯ The Christ Child, the Father of the Man Perhaps no mature mother could be absorbed totally in the present affairs of her child without being future oriented. 406 Herod's fear and the faith of the Magi foresaw, and they acted accordingly only to prove in different ways the last-ing kingship of him who, however, could exercise it only when he came of age. For all her motherly adoration of the Christ Child, Mary was not wholly occupied with his existence as a bun-dle of wonder. Right from her conception of this child, she was forward looking even as she became involved with him and treasured her immediate experience of him. Even in the first flush of her motherhood, she was left wondering what her child was going to be, especially after hearing what the visiting shepherds had to tell her about him. As she gazed at him in her arms, she also kept peering into whatever was emerging about him indicative of his future. A highly significant occasion was her meeting with Simeon. Hearing .his utterance, glorious and yet strange, about the destiny of her child for the rising and falling of many in Israel, she could not rest content clinging to Jesus only as to the son of her womb. Going beyond her motherhood, she had to set her eyes on the prophetic figure that he was to grow into, fulfilling the expectations of her own people. Perhaps no mature mother .could be absorbed totally in the present affairs of.her child without being future oriented, especially as the child grows out of childhood. Mary was led to visualize her Son's future right from the start by the divine intervention she recognized in her-self and the shepherds and the Magi and Simeon and, Review for Religious of course, her own Son, especially on his first visit to the temple. One may well say that almost every event in her life had a way of transporting her from her present involvement with her Son to the oncoming scenario of his life. Her life with her Son consisted, then, in detecting and discerning God's designs for him. It was an experi-ence of not merely seeing her Son with her wondering eyes and cherishing him as her own flesh and blood in homely surroundings. More than that, it was a matter of her perceiving him beyond space and time and so seek-ing an understanding of him as the grown man he was becoming. If ever the child is the father of the man, it was uniquely so in the case of her Son, Jesus. Such an ¯ understanding could not be given or received by flesh and blood. In her own way but also in the light of her Son's ever revealing Abba, who was and is and will be, Mary pondered the mystery of her child, whether suckling or growing and maturing. If there was a time when people knew Jesus only in the flesh, it could not continue that way; it had to cease sooner or later (see 2 Co 5:16).2 And Mary, his mother, would have learned this early, though it seems she never learned it enough. That is why, at certain junctures, she did not understand her Son's words and deeds. Her Son was deepening her understanding and her consolation. It is a credit to her that she continued to ponder what was occurring.3 The babyhood, childhood, and youth of Jesus were passing stages in more ways than one. He grew--continued to grow--in age, wisdom, and grace. If Mary was not unaware of her Son's growth, she could be stunned at times by what seemed a sudden growth and awareness. This.concerned his unique relationship with his Abba, even to the point of letting his earthly parents become deeply worried about him when we was twelve, at the dawn of his Jewish adulthood. All the rest of his life 407 66.4 2007 Dominic ¯ The Christ Child, the Father of the Man 4O8 stoW told in the Gospels, including his passion, death, and resurrection, was an unfolding of that initial appreciation of his Abba's delight. It is in this light that at Christmas we can hear the whisper of the Father to his Son: "You are my Son; today I have begotten you" (Ps 2:7). Later, of course, we hear "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased" (Lk 3:22). Anyone who does not cherish such a perspective of Jesus even while being engaged in contemplating his childhood misses in no small measure the mystery that he is. The great mystery of our religion is indeed pre-cisely he, the kind of person he was and is. It is multipolar mystery touching many stages of his life, one leading to the other not only step by step but by leaps and bounds. An ancient hymn sang it thus: He was revealed in flesh, vindicated in spirit, seen by angels, preached among Gentiles, believed in throughout the world, taken up in glory. (1 Tm 3:16) Revelation of him in the flesh is indeed Christmas and Christmas gloW. To appreciate it fully, all three elements in the description--the person revealed, the fact of rev-elation, and the mode of revelation--must be weighed and valued. Perhaps John does this best and so he can say, "The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glow, the gloW as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth" On 1:14). This glow, of course, is the gloW of his entire life. St. Ignatius, till sometime after his conversion, was not an enlightened believer. He came to be blessed with enlightenment, however, as he matured in the faith. He shared his experience in his practical notes that became the classic Spiritual Exercises. There he proposes a con- Review for Religious templation on Jesus' birth in which he helps retreatants not to miss the fullness of the Christmas mystery. He points out that, if the Lord is born in great poverty, it is so that, after many hardships such as hunger, thirst, heat, cold, injuries, insults, and so forth, he may die on the cross.4 The church discovered such a spirit and introduced it in its way of praying. It nurtured it in a simple way through the Angelus. Reciting it three times a day, any-one-- child or adult, peasant or professional, artist or scientist--can learn to be at home with the full mystery of Christ. The three antiphons and three Hail Marys recall the mystery of joy at Christmas and associate us with Mary, who knew that joy as no one else. The conclud-ing prayer begins again with the annunciation/incarna-tion only to lead to the mystery of the passion, cross, and resurrection. There is no better way of doing homage to Jesus at any time, even Christmas. The Story of the Other Wise Man by Henry Van Dyke teaches all this in another way. With the proverbial three wise men, a fourth one, named Artaban, plans to visit the newborn Jewish king. He sets out with three gifts for him: a sapphire, a ruby, and a pearl. But, on the way to the agreed place of meeting, he finds a sick traveler lying alone on his desert path. He stays with him to nurse him to health. That prevents him from reaching his friends in time. Left alone, he sells his sapphire to provide him-self with the necessary caravan for the journey. When he reaches his destination, he finds sadly that the family of the baby king has fled from Bethlehem to escape Herod's murderous plans. To the house where he is staying, sol-diers come to slaughter a child, and he gives his ruby to them and saves the terrified mother and child. Setting out again, he travels far and wid

Issue 64.4 of the Review for Religious, 2005. ; Praying Calling Rehgious Life Perspectives The Spirit QUARTERLY 64.4 2O05 Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we ~y to live according to charisms of Catholic religious life. As Pope Paul VI said, our way of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. 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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 hear 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. ~ gournalof Catholic S~iri~uali~ eli Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff VVebmaster Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Eugene Hensell OSB Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp .Clare Boehmer ASC Steve Erspamer SM Kaddeen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishoi~ Terry Steib SVD Miriam D. Ukerifis CSJ QUARTERLY 64.4 2005 contents prisms 340 Prisms 342 355 praying Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation James A. Rafferty details the unique participation of Mary in the Eucharistic sacrifice of Jesus, a proximity to Eucharistic presence that envelops her entire being. Personal Prayer and Group Reflection From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation Ernest E. Larkin OCarm provides a personal account of his study and experience of centering prayer and contemplation and Christian Meditation. Reflection Questions 369 380 calling Rekindling the Fire: Vocation Efforts Sefin D. Sammon FMS writes a letter to his own brothers to encourage practical measures to be adopted for encouraging vocations to religious life. Reflection Questions Don Bosco's Continuing Mission to Youth Leo J. Heriot SDB shares the dream of the young John Bosco that continues to shape the Salesian apostolate and system of education. Review for Religious 386 405 r Oi ious p rspe ivss The Council as Catalyst Elizabeth McDonough OP gives a snapshot picture from her own experience of living religious life in the light of the happening of Vatican Council II. Monks' Stability and Punxsutawney Christian Raab OSB suggests that a monk's vow of stability offers the opportunity to transform one's life instead of becoming stuck in the repetition of daily life. 410 spirit Led by the Spirit: St. Augustine Andrew Ryder SCJ presents the three movements in Augustine's life that are key to understanding his doctrine on the Holy Spirit. 424 429 436 443 Scripture Scope: Mark's Gospel and Jesus' Radical Humanity Canonical Counsel: Canonical Federation Book Reviews Indexes 64.4 200Y prisms Te main character in a popu-lar TV show called "Joan of Arcadia" finds that God speaks to her. God is always surprising her by speaking through quite different people-- sometimes young and at other times old or in-between, sometimes male and at other times female. This young woman is portrayed as a very ordinary person, but her experiences of God seem to set her apart. If we were to be asked where most consistently we experience God, I doubt that many of us would say that we hear God speaking to us. In fact, we tend to be wary of people who hear "voices" or God speaking to them. Yet the God of the Old and New Testaments is a communicator. We identify the scriptures as the word of God. Christian prayer has always been understood as a dialogue, with both God and ourselves speaking and listening to each other. What we are sometimes slow to recog-nize is that God communicates not just in words. In the whole world of creation, God is speaking. Our personal talents, our gifts, our traits tell us that God has loved us personally into existence. People have always found the majesty of God in the surging of the ocean's Review for Religious waves, in the soaring heights of mountain peaks, and in the rosy-fingered morning sun. Certain people coming into our lives make real to us the call, the concern, the compassion of God. Their very presence makes us feel touched by God. We Catholics have always held our saints in great esteem and affection. They continue to touch us with God's presence. We remember our dead because they too, strikingly holy or not, have spoken to us of God's care. We ask for their help because they relate us to God. And so God speaks to us not only in the sacred words of Scripture, but also through people and things and events of our everyday environment. Modern psychology has made us aware that we com-municate through body language. God, too, uses body language to talk to us. Every time we celebrate Christmas we can "hear" what God is saying to us through the baby Jesus. No one is frightened by a baby--seeing no stern judge or a wrathful and punishing monarch. The baby Jesus reaches out and hands himself over to us in great freedom and trust and love. This baby in a manger-- Jesus--is God speaking. The wonder of Christmas brings home to us how, first among all .the other ways of com-municating, God's incarnate Word speaks to us. What we need to observe in a more daily way is the silence of a Christmas night so that we can watch and listen. Perhaps that is our New Year's resolution. David L. Fleming SJ ES. The Review for Religious staff and board mem-bers pray for a holy and blessed Advent and Christmas seasons for all of our readers. 64.4 2005 JAMES A. RAFFERTY Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation praying This reflection looks at the relationship between Mary and the Eucharistic Lord. It attempts to show, in particular, Mary's intimate presence to the Eucharist. As a woman at the center of God's love for all humanity, Mary may properly be identified as Woman of the Eucharist, the title both reverential and affectionate that Pope John Paul employs in his encyclical Ecclesia de Eucharistia. This title is not merely a clever the-ological phrase about Mary symbolizing the entire church by her faith and receptive coop-eration. The title is about Mary's profound spir-itual relationship with her Son. Attuned as no other to the intimate communion deep within the Trinity, Mary singularly understands Jesus' Eucharistic heart as it embraces all humanity in choosing Calvary, where self-surrendering love is displayed in shocking degree. James A. Rafferty, a priest of the Diocese of Scranton, is chaplain and a campus minister at Marywood University; 2300 Adams Avenue; Scranton, Pennsylvania 18509. Review for Religious More than a theological category or doctrinal for-mulation, Mary, Woman of Eucharist, sings the hymn of one woman's surrender to the divine Love that gently invites people to become more like itself. The sacra-mental Eucharist we celebrate today has its peak expres-sion in the Last Supper that opens the original drama of the paschal mystery, but Jesus' Eucharistic offering is not limited to those hours of his life. Rather, his entire being may be described as Eucharist--sacrificial self-offering emboldened by an enormous gratitude. Mary's life, too, chants her Son's Eucharistic hymn of praise and self-gift long before she accompanies him to the moment when he hands over all that he is on the cross. Eucharistic tones reverberate in Mary's immaculate con-ception, in the annunciation, in her hearing her Son pro-claim the kingdom, in her presence at Calvary, and in her sharing in the Easter glory. The first Eucharistic moment in Mary's life, as in everyone's, is the moment of conception. Like everyone else, Mary receives her unique and unrepeatable iden-tity as nothing other than gift, gift to herself and to the world. Births celebrate the overflowing of love from the Trinity's heart into time and space, letting itself be known in the life of another. Life itself means receiving what we cannot give or produce on our own. This divine gift is always more splendid than cellular interactions and anatomical functions. The Spirit of God breathing into clay sacramentalizes the loving communion of the Creator with the created. Physical existence, even veiled in the womb, announces the divine creative imagination that renders each life sacred by bearing the image and likeness of the Triune God. While every new human life arouses awe and thank-fulness in the presence of this loving gift from God, the humble daughter of Israel has an unprecedented 343 64.4 2005 Rafferty * Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation God creates Mary as one ready to welcome, grace without resistance, Eucharistic glow from her immaculate conception. The child of Anne and Joachim receives from her first instant the totally unmerited gift of being preserved by God from all stain of original sin. God creates Mary as one ready to welcome grace without resistance. Her very dis-position is to seek always what is the delight of her Creator and Lord. In her immaculate heart Mary bows before the tender stirrings of the Spirit of Yahweh. She never lurches away from the Lord in willful-ness. Her submission to God is like the strings of a peerless violin at the touch of a skilled violinist. The instrument exists precisely to give resonance to the master's melody and fill the air with music. The violinist's touch is not subjugation. It frees the instrument to be its fullest self. Mary cooperates wholly in all that God desires for her. We pray during the liturgy for something of her receptivity when we say, "Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word, and I shall be healed." Although these words originate in Jesus' encounter with a centurion concerned for his servant's health, the litur-gical context may suggest Zacchaeus, delighted to wel-come Jesus to his home and almost happy at not concealing how much his soul has needed tidying up. As we approach the altar to receive the gift of Jesus' Body and Blood, it seems that Jesus wishes to evoke within us Peter's change of heart: first refusing to let Jesus wash his feet and then eagerly conceding at Jesus' insistence. Again, the Immaculate Conception is a permanent stance of receptivity. We seek that disposition in our own prepa-ration for Communion. Review for Religious The Eucharistic motif appears in Mary's life also in her obscurity and poverty. Her simple, humble existence in a tiny village reflects the Eucharist. There Mary depends utterly on God. Mary experiences a real, not just a romantic, poverty. She feels with all who are poor the realities of hunger, cold, and powerlessness. For her the cry of the poor is not a hypothetical, poetic verse; it echoes her authentic abandonment to the Lord's provi-dence in situations where human efforts do not accom-plish much. There is more here than a passive resolve to endure difficulty and want. Mary finds comfort and assur-ance in a faithful God who has pledged never to aban-don the people he has chosen to be his own. As a woman of actual poverty, Mary relates to God as the provider of her daily needs. She carries within her a practiced confi-dence that God attends to her hunger and thirst, a heart-felt trust that breaks into the praise of the Magnificat. She lives out of the consciousness that it is God who feeds, nourishes, and sustains. Her poverty expresses sol-idarity with every child of the Covenant who awaits God's saving action. Such indomitable hope, passed on across centuries, has been planted deep in Mary's heart. Mary's Eucharistic living is evident in the moment when divinity unites with human flesh at her consent, "Let it be done to me according to your word." The Lord instituted the sacramental Eucharist for us to con-sume and thereby have the divine life pulsing strongly within us. Mary's "yes" to the invitation of God fore-shadows our "amen" at being offered the Eucharist. Amen here means "Yes, I believe it is the Body of Christ, and, yes, I wish to receive it." It is implicitly a consent that the Body of Christ broken, offered, received, and consumed may effect a change in us who partake.of it. As believers we surrender before the mystery in a way similar to Mary's "Let it be done to me." Like Mary at the annun- 64.4 2005 Rafferty * Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation 346 ciation, in the Eucharist we implicitly desire that the Trinity take over our life so that our identity, fused with Jesus himself, lets itself be guided by God the Father. When the angel appears to Mary with the message that she will conceive and bear a son who will be called Son of the Most High, she perceives the compassion radiating from the heart of God. This radiance accom-panies the self-surrender of the God who comes to dwell in flesh. By the grace of the Holy Spirit, Mary is drawn into God's plan, which includes Calvary. In the powerful current of paschal love, she more than anyone else glimpses the yearning of God to heal the rift that sin causes in the relationship between Creator and creature. Every act of God in the salvific economy bears a paschal orientation, and Mary intuits the paschal horizon of God's project. That is, she senses the truth of what she meets in the annunciation--a self-offering Love that knows no limitation. Lacking the vocabulary of Trinitarian theology, Mary nonetheless encounters the Father offering his Son in the power of the Holy Spirit. She experiences deep within her the distinct energies of the Trinitarian per-sons, as if eavesdropping on the dialogue of the Trinity's plan for her. Mary knows, then, a Father sharing his Son with her, and she knows this contemplatively in the depths of her being. Mary's pregnancy does not begin as a mere procedural accomplishment, as valued posses-sions are handed over to faithful friends for safekeeping. Because the Spirit of God fills her, Mary senses the meaning of this act for the Father. The Father is hand-ing over to her, and through her to all humanity, that which is most precious to him, his beloved Son. Mary knows this with her whole being. She knows, too, the Son's active participation in this gift-giving. Before the throne of the Father in heaven, Review for Religious the Son exercises the characteristic obedience that he will manifest in the world even to death. Mary'sfiat opens the path for the eternal Word to enact his incarnation in space and time. The Son exchanges the omnipotence of divine majesty for confinement in the womb of a young woman. The Second Person of the Trinity assumes human nature in its meekest form and progresses accord-ing to the physiological laws of the human condi-tion. Mary, of course, does not, by virtue of her experience of the annun-ciation, have unrestricted access to the mind of God. She remains thor-oughly finite. Like every other human being, she knows only what she can experience. There pre-cisely do we find the glory in the incarnation, the splendid miracle that Mary is the first to perceive--God revealed in human frailty. Mary is present to the moment when the Son clothes himself in the frailty, dependence, poverty, and even death that mark every human life. The words of consecration so familiar in the Eucharistic Prayer are already subtly present at the annunciation. "You will conceive and bear a son." "How can this be?" "The power of the Most High will over-shadow you." It is as if all of creation--a suffering world yearning for the healing that it is helpless to achieve on its own--has been imploring the Holy Spirit, in one great wordless epidesis, to fill the virginal womb with life. And God responds by making himself present in history for children and adults to see, hear, and touch--and be Mary is present to the moment when the Son clothes himself in the ~ailty, dependence, poverty, and even death that mark every human life. 347 64.4 200Y Rafferty ¯ Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation touched by. Mary's response is personal and collective. She speaks on behalf of a wounded race. Generation after generation of messianic hope permeates the Jewish faith. In Mary and others like Anna and Simeon, this hope is not merely a passive waiting and watching. More than that, it is an ever intensifying desire, calling upon God fervently and ceaselessly from amid the welter of the human condition. Here is the imploring epiclesis to which the Father answers in the incarnation of his Son. To this intensification of Jewish prayer may be added the human hearts all over the world humbly defenseless under the weight and the stings of evil. Moved by their sobs and their silence, God intervenes decisively. Through the Holy Spirit and Mary's yes, God's Son becomes present in her womb. This is similar to what occurs in the liturgy. Mary offers herself in conjunction with the cries of a people lost in darkness, and the Holy Spirit completes her offering infinitely by bringing about the presence of Jesus in her womb. The divine love in this human form is Light itself amid earth's darkness. Surrendering himself to the human condition, the Son of God encompasses the human race's sad history in himself. He submits himself to the force of evil that pummels, confuses, and obliterates. At the first moment made possible by Mary's assent, the world begins to hear the Son whisper, "Take this, all of you, and eat it, this is my body; take and drink, this is my blood, given up for you." Mary silently possesses more than an inkling of the self-surrender that God envi-sions. The Son empties himself by taking on human nature, and Mary nourishes humanity's self-sacrificing Savior towards his birth. She and he both anticipate his self-offering on the cross, the offering that rises from burial into resurrection a~l is present each time the Eucharist is celebrated. Mary's praying heart delights in Review for Religious the wonder, adoration, and gratitude with which she accompanies the Child she carries. With maternal love she worships thankfully the Presence within her in a unique Communion. The proclamation of the kingdom of God, too, is redolent of the F~ucharistic. In the Spirit, all grace of whatever form moves human hearts to Communion. People's gifts or fruits of prayer come to naught unless they seek and find some externalization in unity, in Communion. The Spirit is Communio, and all grace drives toward perfect fulfillment in the heavenly ban-quet, the wedding feast of the Lamb, for which the litur-gical sacrifice prepares us. No wonder, then, that the New Testament's Eucharistic imagery appears in the ear-liest moments of Jesus' public ministry. At the Jordan, Jesus, who is without sin, does not accept John's baptism as a gesture of solidarity with weaker brothers and sisters. He is maturely aware of his right relationship with Yahweh. His decision to approach the Baptist, like his acceptance of the cross, manifests publicly the full sur-render to the Father's will that he has made in prayer many times. Here at the Jordan, Jesus offers himself unreservedly to his Father's plan. He pledges himself to the kingdom that John has heralded. In sublime intimacy the Son prays, "Take this, Father, it is yours." He hands over to the Father all that he receives: his body, his energy, his desire, his relationships; his future. At the Jordan, at the proper time, the Son relives on earth his own unseen choice in eternity to become incarnate. His Father accepts his self-offering and blesses it with the epiphany that confirms the beloved Son's identity. As Jesus undertakes his public ministry, right from the beginning he gathers a community from people who have little in common other than their friendship with Jesus and the willingness to risk being in his company. 64.4 200~ Rafferty * Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation Mary playsa role in , this formation of Christ's followers inlto a Eucharistic coinmunityi Jesus does not announce the kingdom as some exhila-rating new ideology or political vision. Rather, he forms relationships and then sees to it that they form rela-tionships with one another. And he gets them sharing in his own relationship, his own communion, with the Father. Today the Eucharistic table is the special place where the Father reaches out to his sons and daughters and where they seek the deep unity among themselves that they find occurs only when God is in their midst. In celebrating the Eucharist, Christians accompany Jesus and attend to his words and actions, and he forms the church in his paschal love just as he did with his first disciples. Mary, Woman of the Eucharist, plays a role in this formation of Christ's followers into a Eucharistic com-munity. Here this does not mean intuitions of their rit-ual participation in the Mass. Rather, it means learning a new way of being loved by God. Their souls are being awakened to tolerate and then to rejoice that Jesus comes not to be served but to serve. The Spirit is slowly instructing them in the language of God's heart, which speaks most eloquently in the silence of Good Friday. But, preparing for that day, Jesus brings his friends and coworkers home with him to Nazareth and to Mary. They have left home and livelihood to stay with him. They are good people, but they carry the soot of the world with them. Their hands and their hearts are stained with the grime of laboring in a world pol-luted by greed, prejudice, dishonesty, violence, and cynicism. Review for Religious As if in a retreat in preparation for the work of the kingdom, the disciples notice the warmth of pure love between Jesus and his mother. The home at Nazareth serves as a chapel of adoration, of deep devotion, where the love that the graced human spirit is capable of becomes visible. In Jesus' relating with Mary, there is no hardness of heart, no defensiveness, no secrecy, no inse-curity. The disciples could not have resisted being affected by the goodness of this mother and this Son. Long before Mary and John's presence on Calvary, Jesus is already drawing his friends into Mary's universal moth-erhood. At the same time, Mary quietly rejoices as she watches the glow of Trinitarian communion dawn in the lives of others. As the church begins to form, Mary joy-fully waits at the center to share what she has received. Eucharistic nuances continue to pervade Mary's dis-cipleship of her Son, especially in her loyal, fearless par-ticipation in his death and resurrection. The full meaning of the Via Crucis opens up before people who contem-plate it with Mary's eyes. Mary's consent to the angel at the annunciation reaches its climax in her yes beneath the cross, where her heart, united with her Son's, is in perfect obedience to the Father. Mary's obedience is not a horrified resignation to the inevitable, nor a resentful passivity in the face of something she desperately wants to alter. Mary cooperates in the sacrifice of Jesus. Indeed, as Jesus struggles toward the altar of the cross, Mary's spirit accompanies him with the prayer that nothing dis-suade him from his g0al. Whatever dark lies, taunts, or tortuous subtleties the tempter hurled at him in Gethsemane, Mary, in luminous contrast, gently urges him not to give up. Her intense love for Jesus cannot wish him to be other than who he is. In her Son's selfless desire to give himself away out of love, amid the hor-rific brutality of Calvary, Mary gazes upon the heart of 64.4 200Y Rafferty ¯ Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation the Trinity revealed in human history. Wondrously graced, she embraces both the incomparable grief of a woman who witnesses her son's execution and the awe of one who witnesses a compassion as vast as God him-self. Jesus gives forth his last breath, every last spark of energy in his being. For humaniv ~'s sake he surrenders to Mary embraces both the incomparable grief of a woman who Witnesses her son's execution and the awe of one: who witnesses a compassion as vast as God himself. the Father all that he has and is, and Mary watches the birth of a New Covenant. In her excruciating sorrow there is an unshak-able joy. What can possibly convey the significance of her tears shed that day? Hers are tears of pain and also over-whelming delight at a mystery so profound it takes an eternity to contemplate it. Mary does not impede or resist the cross of her Son. She lives and moves in the Spirit of the Father who hands over his beloved Son. Mary deeply comprehends the Trinity's sacrificial love. She is the first human being to understand all that the Eucharistic sacrifice entails. Even more incredible, she prays for everyone to have the courage to approach the sacrifice of Jesus and with her to desire its fulfill-ment in a personal assent to Jesus' self-offering. The Eucharist derives its meaning and power from Jesus' pas-sion, death, and resurrection. Mary teaches the church how to adore the Lord at the foot of the cross, where blood and water flowed from the Savior's pierced side. Jesus' disciples, even his closest friends, had to learn of Review for Religious the empty tomb before their despair turned to hope, but Mary is deeply consoled even as she cradles Jesus' lifeless body in her arms. The resurrection and Pentecost show the redeeming power of the paschal mystery. So do present-day Eucharists. They do it not simply because Christ died on the cross, but because he lives now and forever, some-thing our faith knows. Through her deep faith Mary is already disposed for Easter before her risen Son ever appears. For the faithful woman who can see more than loss and emptiness at Calvary, there is more than the silence of the grave. There is a confident communion with the Father, whose unwavering love Mary knows well. Her soul has felt the tender power of the Spirit bringing to birth what human imagination cannot fathom. Mary has learned well to trust in more than what her senses reveal. She is the authentic contemplative, familiar with the Spirit's movement, and it is not a spirit of despair. She remains a mother in those dark hours. She consoles and encourages the confused, disheartened disciples until the Paraclete fills their hearts with the light of Truth and with Pentecostal fire. Deep faith in the Risen One sees more than any eyes can see. It sees that death itself is not the tragic loss it appears to be, but is the last measure of the prelude to the divine oratorio of eternal life. In the Eucharist, too, participants see and hear more than their senses per-ceive. The bread is no longer bread, the wine no longer wine, but the living presence of Jesus Christ, who makes of his members a living communion. It is Mary who leads the church to the Eucharistic Lord. Hers is no mere external presence or observance or performance. She is intimately involved in her Son's love for the world. Her heart comes to us with the Love that overflows the heart of God. 64.4 2005' Rafferty ¯ Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation Sources Pope John Paul II. Encyclical Letter Ecclesia de Eucbaristia. 17 April 2003. Corbon, Jean. Tbe Wellspring of V~ord~ip, trans. Matthew J. O'Connell. New York: Paulist Press, 1988. Reprinted by Wipf and Stock Publishers. Personal Prayer In the context of the Eucharistic celebration, we might take up the following scripture passages for contemplation: Luke 1:26-38 John 19:25-37 Group Reflection In what ways has this article on "Mary, Woman of the Eucharist" opened up new insights and apprecia-tion for the Mass in our daily living? Review for Religious ERNEST E. LARKIN From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation T~nPaper is a bit of narrative theology, something y personal journey over the last twenty-five or thirty years trying to practice meditation and contem-plation. My account begins in midstream of my religious life, in the mid 1970s, with my introduction to centering prayer. Basically the journey has been from centering and centering prayer to Christian Meditation, the prayer discipline of John Main (+1982). Three Ways to the Center First, the point of departure. What do I mean by cen-tering and centering prayer? These .terms have become familiar and clearly defined today. It was not always so. Centering and centering prayer meant different things to different people in the 1960s and 1970s. An example is the article by Thomas E. Clarke sJ in the British journal The Way titled "Finding Grace at the Centre.''1 The title may be familiar, because it named a collection of Ernest E. Larkin OCarm wrote for us last in July-August 2003. His address is St. Agnes Catholic Church; 1954 North 24th Street; Phoenix, Arizona 85008. 64.4 2005 Larkin ¯ From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation essays on centering prayer published by the Trappists in 1978 and again by Skylight Paths Publishing in 2002. The whole article was reprinted except for the last two pages, which at the time represented one of the chief contributions of the article. So I have a quarrel with the editors for deleting the pages and not indicating they did so. Apparently they wanted to highlight the one form of centering prayer they were espousing in the booklet, and so dropped two other prayer forms that Clarke was presenting as ways to the center. In the article Clarke presented a philo-sophical exposition of centering and then posed the ques-tion: How does one make the journey to the center? His answer was threefold. The first way was classical center-ing prayer, the way of dark faith, which proceeds beyond images and concepts and seeks to rest in the indwelling God. The other two ways to the center used imagination and feelings; they were the prayer of images and fantasy and the practice of the examen of consciousness. All three were ways to the center, ways to dispose the soul for the great gift of contemplation. Together they offered a rich and broadly based prayer life. Teachers of centering prayer should have applauded the connecting of centering prayer with other forms of active prayer. Centering prayer is contemplative in intent, but active in method, as are all forms of meditation. Centering prayer was not supposed to replace lectio div-ina, nor to become one's total prayer life. Centering prayer is a spiritual exercise to deepen one's whole spir-itual life, animating, for example, the liturgy and one's devotions. Connecting the three ways put flesh and blood on centering prayer by acknowledging that imagination and human effort can help in the process of centering. Clarke's paper stated a simple and even obvious fact, Review for Religious namely, that the search for contemplation, especially in beginnings, is not an abstract act; it invokes images and thoughts even while it strives to get beyond them. All three ways converge to the center. This was a welcome reminder in the early days of centering prayer. I remember how the insight thrilled me. I talked about the distinctions with Father John Kane, a Redemptorist, who founded a contemplative house of prayer in Tucson, Arizona. We both agreed that the article was a breakthrough because it made room for the imagination at least in the beginnings of con-templative prayer. The search for contemplation was not restricted to forced abstract search; one did not have to empty the mind. Centering prayer was one way to contemplation and a good way, but it was not the only way. Clarke's article contextualized the search for contemplation and freed it from a one-track pursuit based on theoretical textbook definitions. Before this time I had a philosophically correct but pastorally deficient understanding of contemplation as imageless prayer. I thought "Ignatian contemplation," for example, which consists in reliving a gospel story, was a misnomer; the process was meditation, not con-templation. I did not cotton to Morton Kelsey's thesis that the imagination ruled the prayer practice in the church in the first millennium, and that abstract con-templation in the mode of John of the Cross was Johnny-come- lately in the second millennium. Kelsey argued this position in his popular The Other Side of Silence. To my mind, contemplation had no room for images; they Have we had a philosophically correct but pastorally deficient understanding of contemplation as imageless prayer? 64.4 2005 Larkin ¯ From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation belonged to discursive prayer, the way of meditation, which was a lesser species of mental prayer. But here was Tom Clarke connecting the imagination with centering, thereby broadening horizons in contemplative prayer. The three ways of centering were a significant help to me. Two years earlier, in 1975, I had made a thirty-day Ignatian retreat and came away with the resolution to spend an hour each morning in mental prayer. I was faithful to the hour, but I lacked method. My prayer was amorphous. I read and reflected, I pondered, mused, stirred affections, and made resolutions. I also centered and sat for long periods of silence. But there was no particular order in my pondering. After two years of struggle to be faithful to the hour without a clear methodology, my prayer had became dry and difficult. I "white-knuckled" my prayer, holding on to the bench to fill out the hour. All this may have been a species of the determinada determinacion of Teresa of Avila, but it was probably closer to the "zelus sine scientia corruit" of St. Bernard: "Zeal without knowledge destroys." How long could I hold on? Only the grace of God kept me from giving up on the hour. My efforts in the hour were the same as my practice in the two daily periods of formal meditation in my Carmelite community over the years. These two peri-ods were shorter, usually a half hour each, and I was able to handle them, though somewhat haphazardly. Because they were amorphous, I subsequently looked on them disparagingly. I thought I had wasted a lot of time in my mental prayer. I do not think that way now. I have come to take a more benign view. I realize with Woody Allen that ninety-five percent of life as well as of prayer is showing up. If we are there, putting in time with the Lord, the Lord will do the rest. We should not exag-gerate the role of method. Review for Retigious But method helps. The three ways of Tom Clarke supplied a format for my contemplative prayer. I would do twenty minutes of classical centering prayer, twenty minutes of reflection on the day's readings, and then after Mass twenty minutes ofjournaling. I did not char-acterize the imaginative parts of my prayer--the biblical meditation and consciousness examen--as contempla-tive, but I saw them as part of my pursuit of contempla-tion. Moreover, the active prayers gave permission for elements of imagination to enter my centering prayer. At this time I made a study of the prayer of St. Teresa of Avila in her early premystical years to determine how she employed the imagination in her beginning con-templative prayer.2 She later called this "practice of prayer" active recollection. In the paper I argued that the imagination played a significant role in her practice. Her prayer was her own making, hence active in form; but it was contemplative since her whole effort was to rest in the deep personal realization of the Divine Indwelling. This was her whole prayer. Teresa called it "re-presenting Christ within." Commentators sometimes incorrectly interpret this phrase to mean the imagina-tive recall of some mystery in Christ's life, such as of his being scourged at the pillar. The imaginative recall is part of the prayer, but not its heart, since the recall is only the refocusing of the person in moments of wan-dering. The remembrance of an image from the passion serves the same function as the holy word in centering prayer. The holy word does not detract from the con-templative character of centering prayer any more than the image in active recollection. I concluded my paper on Teresa by saying that her prayer was a mixture of imageless and imaged centering prayer. Today I agree that the term centering prayer should be reserved to the prayer of imageless dark faith. 64.4 2005 Larkin ¯ From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation 3,60 This primary thrust, however, leaves room for some imagination in the practice of this prayer. Teresa's active recollection, which can rightly be called centering prayer, was both apophatic, that is, beyond imagining and thinking, and kataphatic, that is, with a role for the imagination. These insights into Teresa's prayer confirmed Clarke's suggestion and allowed me to accept a minor but real role for the imag-ination in my own practice and theorizing about con-templative prayer. As late as the year 2000, I was still experimenting with a role for the imagination in my contemplative prayer. I was on another long retreat at the Camaldolese monastery at Big Sur in California. For five weeks I prac-ticed Christian Meditation several times each day. I described three different experiences of my contempla-tive prayer in an article in Review for Religious in 2001.3 Two of the patterns I reported engaged the imagination to a small extent. These points about the imagination and contemplation are not irrelevant; they continue to occupy the attention of writers.4 The Move to Christian Meditation The centering and centering prayer so far described were the focus of my efforts at daily mental prayer for some fifteen years. I did not, however, practice it twice daily as was specified by Contemplative Outreach under the leadership of Thomas Keating. The two periods of twenty to thirty minutes, morning and evening, are essential for the discipline of centering prayer. These periods are catalysts for one's prayer life. They are like workouts in a physical-health regimen, and their role is to bring one's life to a deeper level in one's spirit. The outcome is the goal of contemplation in Carmelite terminology. Review for Religious In the mid 1990s I switched my prayer practice to Christian Meditation, a similar but different form of cen-tering developed by John Main, an Irish Benedictine from England. I did so mainly because I was not satisfied with my practice of classical centering prayer. Christian Meditation is promoted by the World Community for Christian Meditation, headed by Laurence Freeman OSB. The major difference between centering prayer and Christian Meditation is the holy word versus the mantra. "Holy word" and "mantra" are not synonyms. Their dif-ference specifies the two forms of contemplative prayer. Christian Meditation repeats the mantra, usually the biblical prayer "ma-ra-na-tha," which means "Come, Lord," from the begin-ning to the end of the prayer. The holy word, on the other hand, is not repeated continu-ously, but only as needed to renew the consent to the Divine Presence. The holy word expresses the will of the person to rest quietly, silently, in the Lord. The mantra, on the other hand, carries the prayer. John Main does not tire of saying that the mantra is the prayer. It creates the silence that is emptiness and open-ness before God, the silence that invites the Divine Presence. The mantra nurtures the beatitude "Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God" (Mt 5:8). Purity of heart and contemplation are the two hinges of the door of the mantra. The mantra is not magic, but a simple device to shut down ordinary rational activity in favor of silence. How would we explain the major difference between centering prayer and Christian Meditation as the holy word versus the mantra? 361 64.4 2005 Larkin ¯ From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation 362 Since I switched my daily practice to Christian Meditation ten years ago, I have been faithful to the two times each day. My personal preference for Christian Meditation is not a condemnation of centering prayer; the same fruits and benefits are available in both forms. The choice of one or other of the two disciplines is a personal matter. I feel that centering prayer has a closer affinity with Teresa of Avila than with John of the Cross and that Christian Meditation has a closer affinity with John than with Teresa. I base these opinions on the sim-ilarity between active recollection and centering prayer, and a similarity of absolutes between the nada and the todo in John and the call to kenosis or self-emptying in Christian Meditation. In the final analysis the two approaches are more alike than different. For this reason I have studied them together and emphasized what is common to them. I have published several articles on the two forms, which I hope to gather into a book. The leaders in the two movements work closely together and see their ministries as parallel. One example of this close collaboration is a prayer center in Phoenix called the Cornerstone. It is sponsored by both movements, which share the same space in a former convent in the Carmelite parish of St. Agnes. The Cornerstone offers programs that are sometimes common to both groups and sometimes specific to one of them. It is lay orga-nized and lay directed. The Genius of Christian Meditation I have come to see Christian Meditation as a com-panion piece, a "how to" addition to the teaching of St. John of the Cross on the passage from meditation to contemplation. This area is one of his specialties. He defines in precise terms both meditation and contem-plation and why the transition from one state to the other Review for Religious can be difficult if not traumatic. Meditation for him is a rational activity, the work of the imagination and the discursive reason; it is active and self-directed. Contemplation is passive and receptive of the gift of the love and presence of God. The transition from one state to the other can be disturbing. Beginning contempla-tion may look like a step backward, even total loss. The old way of meditation is no longer appealing or even possible, and the new way of contemplation is not self-evident. The experience is the passive dark night of the senses. It is a great grace, but easily mistaken and open to misunderstanding. John gives his famous three signs to authenticate the state as well as detailed instruction on the conduct to be followed. In discursive meditation one deals with concrete indi-vidual acts, striving to remove the bad ones and to pro-mote good ones. So meditation is analyzing, evaluating, making choices and resolutions. The soul is like a win-dowpane, St. John says, and the work of meditation is to remove the smudges of bad habits and replace them with acts and habits that are bright with the light of Christ. The light of Christ is faith. The window pane is lighted up by faith-motivated activity. Over time the win-dow becomes clear and the soul purified in the matter of concrete choices. The light of faith shines through with fullness, simplicity, and wholeness. This is the light of contemplation. The light is always there, John of the Cross says. It is part of the state of grace. The perception of the light, however, is dependent on being rid of delib-erate sinful habits. John writes as follows: This light is never lacking to the soul, but, because of creature forms and veils that weigh on it and cover it, the light is never infused. If individuals would elimi-nate these impediments and veils and live in pure nakedness and poverty of spirit, as we will explain 64.4 200~ Larkin * From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation 364 later, their soul in its simplicity and purity would be immediately transformed into simple and pure Wisdom, the Son of God. (Ascent 2.15.4) Thus these graces, when received, are "infused light and love," that is, infused contemplation. The way of con-templation is self-awareness of this new state of being. One simply opens one's eyes and sees and basks in the love and presence of God. At first there will be a going back and forth between meditation and contemplation. John of the Cross gives detailed advice on how to recognize the times for the one or the other, that is, when to continue to meditate and when to rest in the contemplative light and love. His teaching is renowned for its clarity and effectiveness for spiritual direction and retains its place in the life of every budding contemplative. But it is a complicated teaching. Along comes John Main who sees meditation and contemplation in conti-nuity with each other and as one process. The prayer or discipline of Christian Meditation is one dynamic that begins with the mantra and stays with it through multi-ple experiences of God's love. Contemplation is the awareness of Abba's love for me, who am bonded with the Son in the love of the Holy Spirit. The contemplative grows in the appreciation of this love and gets ever more deeply in touch with the knowledge and love that the Tr!nity showers on the world. There is communio, koinonia, participation in the reality of God and his cre-ation. This communion is unitive knowledge, of subject and subject inhering in each other. It is not dualistic knowledge, from the outside, leaving subject and object apart from one another. It is not any particular psycho-logical experience. There is at-oneness, a "common union" or communion, in which the Trinity and the human being enter into what Teresa of Avila called Review for Religious union, namely, "two things becoming one." Communion is the ontological reality; contemplation adds awareness and attention. Not every experience of Christian Meditation is infused contemplation such as John of the Cross has in mind. But every experience is communion and eventually will bring the fullness of contemplation. The commitment to Christian Meditation is a com-mitment to a way of life. The way is always the same; it is the way of the mantra from beginning to end. The goal of the prayer is without limits. One stops saying the mantra only when one is reduced to silence. These are moments of special grace that John of the Cross calls "oblivion" (Living Flame 3.3 5). One resumes saying the mantra as soon as the silence is recognized, because that is the sign that the special mystical grace has passed. John Main's program is one of utter simplicity. He does not stress, though he may acknowledge in theory, the abstract differences between meditation and con-templation or the different degrees of contemplation. But he treats them as one spiritual practice and says explicitly that meditation, meditative prayer, contem-plation, and contemplative prayer are all synonyms. No need to be concerned about essences, he seems to say; the important thing is to grow in purity of heart and recep-tivity to divine grace. The journey is the same in both John of the Cross and John Main, but it is described from different viewpoints. The older John presents objective theology in the manner of the scholastics; the younger John has made the turn to the subject, and his exposition is experiential and practical. Laurence Freeman remarks that John Main's purpose was to start people on the journey and let experience of the prayer teach the rest. The one task proposed is the mantra. The mantra does not deal with obstacles one by one or even supply building blocks for a spiritual edi- 64.4 2005 Larkin ¯ From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation 566 rice. It silences the mind, emptying it of its contents. The silence makes room for the Spirit to take over. "Be," says John Main," and you are in the Spirit."s The Spirit is already there with Father and Son in the Divine Indwelling. If the soul is silent and receptive, the Spirit will pray there beyond images and thoughts, in sighs too deep for words (Rm 8:26). The Spirit will do this because the soul is open and ready and God wants that mutual indwelling even more than the soul does who is sincerely seeking God. John Main's simple method frees the person so that the presence of the Trinity can come alive and be actualized. When there is space and freedom, the meditator is caught up in the prayer of Jesus. That prayer is the one and only prayer in the world since the Incarnation, because it is the love between Father and Son and envelops all of creation. Faithful meditators are woven into that salvit]c love. The journey with the Son to the Father will traverse the stages of Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross. Christian Meditation will be the vehicle, the discipline to get one going and to help one stay on the path. These are astounding claims for Christian Meditation. Their jus-tification is the beatitude "Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God" (Mt 5:8). The silence of the mantra produces the purity of heart, and the reward of purity of heart is the love of God, of people, and of the world found in the gift of contemplation. How does silence accomplish this twofold task? By allowing one to escape from the false self by placing one beyond the toils of ego and the world it creates, by free-ing one from the imprisonment of false desires. This healing produces purity of heart. The new freedom allows one to go deeper into the spirit, the domain of the Trinity. The reality of this state is primary and comes before awareness and appreciation. The reality is called Review for Religious communio or participation in the life of God; the aware-ness is contemplation. The Spirit will give us contem-plation when we are ready. Contemplation is thus the outcome of faithful prac-tice of the mantra. Contemplation is the life of God received, the backdrop and engine of one's whole spiri-tual life. It is the life that animates one's community rela-tionships, one's ministry, and one's prayer. The short definition is the realization of God's love for us, "the love of God poured forth in our hearts by the Holy Spirit, who is given us" (Rm 5:5). Contemplation is the outcome of a faithful life. It means claiming what was there from the beginning. It is the Abba experience of Jesus. In his human life Jesus was filled with the Father's presence and love. Certain events like the baptism or the transfiguration were climactic experiences of that love, but Jesus abided in that love always. He looked out upon the world bathed in the Father's love. He was the "beloved Son," and in him the reign of God was estab-lished on the earth. That reign is the kingdom of God's presence and love. It is the resurrection experience. It fills the world with the grandeur of God. Christian Meditation promises this contemplation. Each practice will not necessarily bring forth a recog-nizable, reflexive experience of that love. But every exer-cise will put one a little more in touch with it and will be an experience of communion, of koinonia, of participation in that love. Transformation is taking place, slowly, incre-mentally, and the Christian is being formed in the Wisdom of God, the Son of God, in whom we live and move and have our being. Christian Meditation can indeed be one practical response of meditation and con-templation in our troubled times. 64.4 200Y Larkin ¯ From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation Notes 1 Way 17 (1977): 12-22. 2 "Teresa of Avila and Centering Prayer," in Carmelite Studies 3 (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1984), pp. 203-209. 3 "An Experience of Christian Meditation," Review for Religious 60 (2001): 419-431. 4 See, for example, Brian V. Johnstone CSSR, "Keeping a Balance: Contemplation and Christian Meditation," Review for Religious 63 (2004): 118-133. s John Main: Essential Writings, ed. Laurence Freeman (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 2002), p. 105. Reflection Questions 1. In the light of Father Larkin's prayer journey, how would I describe some major moments in my own prayer growth? 2. "The commitment to Christian Meditation is a commit-ment to a way of life." What meaning do I give to this statement? 3. Let Larkin's story elicit a group's sharing about the joys and difficulties of praying. Review for Religious SEAN D. SAMMON Rekindling the Fire: Vocation Efforts Dear Brothers and all who cherish the charism of Marcellin Champagnat, It is early morning here in Rome. The last guests from Saturday evening's vigil celebration of the founder's feast have departed, the house is quiet, and the first hours of a new day are just beginning to unfold. What better time than the dawn of St. Marcellin's day to begin a letter to you about the awakening of vocations to his Little Brothers of Mary. Please join me in this continuing effort, this continuing prayer. Like so many of you, I believe that God continues to move the hearts of young people and call them to a variety of voca-tions within our church. So let us pledge to do our best to foster their generous response, while concentrating our efforts on those called to our way of life and mission as Little Brothers of Mary. After all, our Marist Constitutions and Sefin D. Sammon FMS, superior general of the Marist Brothers, writes again in epistolary form. His address is Fratelli Maristi delle Scuole; C.P. 10250; 00144 Roma, Italy. calling 64.4 2005 Sammon ¯ Rekindling the Fire Statutes reminds us that to do so is a sign of our vitality as an institute. 3:70 Awakening Vocations Well-designed publications, attractive posters, lively and thoughtful presentations that deal with our life and ministry are all ways of cultivating vocations. They all help young people, their parents, and our church to have a better sense of who we are and what we do, and espe-cially to learn something about what we cherish and hold dear. When all is said and done, however, isn't it actually the lives of thousands of brothers over the almost two-hundred- year history of our institute that are our most effective means to awaken vocations? And so your voca-tional tale and mine are good places to start if we want to understand more fully just what we are trying to do. It does no harm to ask ourselves from time to time what first brought us to the life of a Little Brother of Mary and what keeps us here. My own story began when I met the small group of brothers who staffed the high school I attended in the heart of New York City. Even with the distance of years, I can still remember what it was about those men that captured my imagination and my heart. They were obvi-ously religious people, and they appeared happy in their work together and in their commitment to it. There was a spirit of sacrifice among them that somehow appealed to my adolescent soul. And there was passion. This element is at the heart of any vocation worth its salt. Though I may not have rec-ognized it at the time, I realize now that there were some very passionate men in that small group of brothers. In retrospect I can see that, in their love for Jesus Christ and his Good News and for us their students, they shared with us some of the very qualities that our founder Review for Religious inspired in the young men we know today as Francois, Laurent, Jean-Baptiste, Dominique, and Louis-Marie. Even now I find myself surprised at how subtly God was at work in my life, though I surely would never have used that language when I was fourteen. I have to say that I was blessed early in life to meet those men who took delight in helping a rather uncivi-lized crowd of young men to grow up and grow closer to God. These men--many were young themselves--were willing to waste time on us. Time, it was their only currency, and they shared it with us freely and gen-erously. During the years since then, perhaps in imitation or through the mystery of grace, some of my happiest moments have been with young people, sharing their world, their hopes and dreams, their fears and concerns, their ques-tions of faith. Vocation promotion :should neVer be undertaken solely for survival. Vocations for Mission and Not Survival Vocation promotion should never be .undertaken solely for survival. Nor is it simply a matter of numbers. Numbers are not necessarily a sign of viability, nor is age the best measure of vitality. Our zeal for mission, then, rather than a desire to survive "come what may," must be our reason for awakening vocations. This tradition goes back to Father Champagnat. The ever unfolding tale of our institute records that Marcellin's visit to the bedside of a dying teenager is what persuaded him to found a com-munity of brothers with this aim: to proclaim God's Good News to poor children and young people. We know the story well. Discovering that Jean-Baptiste Mongagne knew ¯ " 64.4 2005 Sammon ¯ Rekindling the Fire nothing about his faith, Marcellin instructed him, admin-istered what were then called "the last sacraments," and went on his way. Returning a short while later, he dis-covered that the lad had died. I have often wondered about our founder's thoughts and feelings as he returned home to Lavalla that evening. We can imagine his pace quickening. We know that almost immediately upon his arrival he met Jean-Marie Granjon, who had been a grenadier in Napoleon's army. Picture their conversation taking place on the bridge near what today is the Hermitage. For Marcellin the mission was clear, the reasons for founding a commu-nity of brothers evident. As they talked on that bridge, our founder's passion convinced the former soldier to join him and give his heart to a corporate adventure soon to be known as the Little Brothers of Mary. Marcellin loved the children and young people of his day. More than once he said, "l cannot see children with-out wanting to tell them how much Jesus Christ loves them, and how much I love them." In today's world many children and young people are the victims of war, human trafficking, and the streets. Denied an education and other basic human rights, they are in desperate need of hearing God's Good News. And so, I ask you, do you believe as I do that the mission of our institute is as urgent today as it was in Marcellin's day, and that it will remain so for the foreseeable future? If you do, then let us agree that the awakening of new vocations can no longer be a sideline attraction for you or for me. Instead, we need to develop a plan for promoting vocations and then put that plan into action. A First Set of Challenges A few challenges before we go on. First, a challenge to my brothers in the institute. If you and I want to make Review for Religious vocation promotion a top priority, most if not all of us will need to arrange our other commitments so as to free up twenty percent of our best time for that work. Why twenty percent? Because there is a lot to learn and a great deal of work to be done. We can all beg off, citing good reasons not to get involved. Lack of time, the demands of ministry, age--who among us has not heard that litany before? But, if you and I want a future for the mission and life of our institute, we need to avoid making excuses and, instead, commit ourselves enthusi-astically to promoting vocations. And now a word to my lay partners. I ask you to join us in our efforts to educate parents, the young people in your care and ours, and the church at large about who we Little Brothers of Mary are, what our life is, and what our ministries are. You know us and know what we cher-ish and hold dear. Help others come to know us as you do. And help us, too, by inviting young people to con-sider making our way of life their own. I have no hesi-tation in asking you to give these efforts top priority. All who share our founder's charism should eagerly promote vocations to the brotherhood he established. God's Good News remains to be proclaimed to more children and young people than we might imagine. And what happens if all of us--brothers and lay part-ners alike--decide not to make vocation promotion a major concern and not to give enough time to this impor-tant ministry? What are the consequences? Some would say that a failure to act and act decisively would dimin-ish the probability of a vital and vibrant future for our way of life and ministry. Others would be harsher. If we fail to act, they would tell us, we probably do not deserve a future. In 1822 Marcellin Champagnat faced a vocation cri-sis, the first in the history of our institute. And how did 373 64.4 200~ Sammon ¯ Rekindling the Fire he respond? By taking action, beginning with his pil-grimage to the chapel of Our Lady of Pity. We do well today to follow his example. Today more than a few peo-ple use the term vocation culture to describe an environ-ment in which a call or vocation can take root and flourish. You and I can foster such a culture by believing that vocations to Marcellin's Little Brothers of Mary exist today and that with God's grace and our human efforts we can find and cultivate them. A Pastoral Plan for Awakening Vocations A pastoral plan to awaken vocations can help us awaken vocations to our way of life and ministry. A num-ber of provinces and districts already have a well- A ,pastoral: p!an to awaken vocations can help Us awaken, vocations to our way of life and ministry: designed plan in place. Time will tell of its effec-tiveness. Other provinces and districts can take time or make time to develop a plan. The plan should be comprehensive and include in its details the province or district, all the mem-bers, each community, and every ministry--and, of course, all the others who share Marcellin's charism and want to help promote vocations. In drawing up any plan, you and I are better off con-centrating on what can be done rather than lamenting things we cannot change. In some parts of the world, for example, families are smaller than in the past, young people have far more vocational options to consider, and they may make their life commitments at a later age. Neither you nor I can do much to alter these realities. We can, though, invite young men to our way of life and ministry once again, and we can open our homes and Review for Religious hearts to them. We can also help them and others to understand all that has happened in religious life and in our institute during the forty years since Vatican Council II. Let us do what we can, and not keep wringing our hands about what we cannot change. In making plans we must be sure they are adapted to the culture in which we live. A universal pastoral plan for vocations is unrealistic. Differences exist between regions, and customs vary. What is quite acceptable in one part of our world is looked upon with suspicion in another. And so I offer below just a few ideas to get your thinking started. Be as creative as you can. And do not forget to include in the plan exactly whatyou plan to do personally. a. Province or District Provinces and districts should have at least one full-time vocation promoter, but everyone should promote vocations. The full-time promoter should help the oth-ers to do what they can. There should be a well-designed program that explains contemporary religious life to lay men and women. Some of our brothers will tell you that they feel shaken by the changes in our way of life during the last four decades. In that case, just imagine how shaken the average Catholic may be. In some countries, for example, people feel betrayed and confused about why we no longer staff the local school and do not live in the brothers' house next to the church. A good program could clarify the reasons behind such changes. It could also show that everyone--the laity, bishops and priests, and men and women religious themselves--has a respon-sibility for recruiting new members for religious con-gregations. Some among these groups appear reluctant to do so. I cannot help believing that such reluctance may stem from a lack of understanding about our life today. Catholic parents deserve special attention. At one 64.4 2005 Sammon ¯ Rekindling the Fire 376[ time they were great allies of ours in awakening voca-tions. Today many parents are confused about religious life, about why and how people are still living it. Where their trust has been eroded, we must work to restore it and enlist their aid once again. Our program could include offering an adult educa-tioncourse in a local parish, or as in-service training for faculties in our schools, or as part of parent-teacher con-ferences, or as an Advent or Lenten series. Some could write articles for their parish bulletin or diocesan news-paper. Others could say a few words during or at the end of Mass on Sunday. The means are not quite as impor-tant as the message: our life and mission as brothers is alive and well and ready to receive new members. The work described above could be coordinated by the full-time province vocation promoter. He should not, however, take on these tasks for a local community sim-ply because its members do not want to. His time is bet-ter spent persuading them that the tasks mentioned are rightly theirs and that they have the resources to accom-plish them. Finally, the media and the internet, where avai]able, have great potential to awaken vocations. Where a province web page exists, the vocation pro-moter should make sure that the topic of vocations appears on it and is effectively presented. b. Local Communities Local communities have many opportunities to pro-mote vocations. First of all, though, they should as a group agree to a common plan that ensures that their work will be effective and that nothing will be uselessly duplicated. Prayer must be part of any community's plan. Along with this, three or four times a year a community might invite groups of young people from their school or parish to an open house that is focused on religious life. Such a visit, particularly if it is well planned, can com- Review for Religious municate more about religious life than a series of lec-tures would. Another community might invite parishioners of all ages for a time of prayer, some refreshments, and some friendly conversation, particularly about religious voca-tions. Many people are willing and ready to participate and help, but they need to be asked. A brother's involve-ment in a parish's youth ministry program can be the occasion for young people to learn more about broth-ers and their life. Lay people involved in youth ministry, especially if they know us well, can also raise the topic or answer questions the young may have about religious life. A community might also arrange to print a pamphlet describing our life and mission and place it in the vestibule of the local parish church. In places where the local newspaper or television station does human-inter-est pieces, one or two members of the community could commit themselves to write an article or be interviewed about our life and ministry. c. Our Works Visibility! That should be the yardstick for measur-ing efforts to promote vocations in the institutions where we serve. Posters, pamphlets, days set aside to present the history, life, and mission of the Little Brothers of Mary--all these should be regular fare in any school or social-service project in which we are involved. Our col-leagues and those whom we serve should know clearly just what it means to be one of Marcellin's brothers. While being happily aware that our schools, parishes, and agencies touch others' lives well beyond themselves, we must not overlook those with whom we share min-istry. There may, for example, be lay faculty members in our schools who have given thought, to religious life and our life in particular, but just do not know how to [377 64.4 200Y Sammon ¯ Rekindling the Fire 378 bring up the subject. We should make sure that oppor-tunities exist to discuss the matter, and that they exist in abundance. d. Each Brother and Lay Partner If you asked me to suggest one thing that you as indi-viduals could do to promote vocations, I would answer immediately: Invite young men that you know to think about making our life and ministry their own. Such an invitation by a brother is the factor mentioned most often by young persons and by those further along in years as well. So I say to my brothers: Awaken vocations, find persons who in good time can replace yourselves. And to my lay partners I say: Awaken vocations so as to ensure a vibrant partnership between brothers and yourselves. Without enough brothers, partnership with you is not possible. To all, I offer this reminder: Personal prayer is most important. So pray for those who have religious life on their minds. Pray for them daily. Pray for them by name. If writing is your gift, put it to good use by writing about our life and mission. And if music, or art, or the media world is your passion, use it to awaken vocations. Teach about our life if teaching is your talent; encourage vocations if your gift is to motivate people. Above all, be creative in planning to awaken vocations. Keep asking yourselves how to use your God-given skills to promote vocations. Give twenty percent of your best time to the effort, and do not forget to invite. Blessings and affection, Se~in D. Sammon FMS Superior General Review for Religious Reflection Questions 1) Spend some time thinking about young people that you know. They might be members of your family, the children of friends, students, those with whom you work in ministry, young people in the parish, or elsewhere. Once you have spent some time thinking about the young people in your life, please turn your attention to the questions below. 1. What is it that you most admire about the emerging generation? Take a moment to explain your answer more fully. 2. What is it about the young people you know that most baffles you? Once again, please take a moment to explain. 3. What qualities do you look for in a young man today when considering candidates for our Marist brother-hood? 2) Spend some time thinking about what you might do individually to awaken vocations during this year ahead. What skills can you bring to the task, what will be helpful to young people, particularly those with an interest in our Institute, how can you best convey the many dimensions of our life rather than one or another? Yes, take some time to pray, seek to understand what God is asking of you this year in terms of awakening vocations, and then turn your attention to the ques-tions below. 1. As you look ahead to the coming year, what steps will you take personally to awaken Vocations? 2. What will you do the first month, during the first three months, during the first half of the year? 3. Is there a way you can combine your efforts with oth-ers to have even greater .influence awakening vocations during this time of grace? Please explain. 64.4 2005 LEO J. HERIOT Don Bosco's Continuing Mission to Youth 380[ Jr~hn Paul II's apostolic exhortation on religious life minded us religious of our founders' charisms and what they offer to us, their followers: "Consecrated per-sons live Jbr God and from God, and precisely for this reason they are able to bear witness to the reconciling power of grace, which overcomes the divisive tenden-cies present in the human heart and in society" (Vita con-secrata 41). And in the same vein we have words that mean much to persons consecrated to a mission: "In the image of Jesus, the beloved Son 'whom the Father con-secrated and sent into the world,' those whom God calls to follow him are also consecrated and sent into the world to imitate his example and to continue his mis-sion" (VC 72). The young John Bosco, the son of Francis and Margherita Bosco of Becchi in Turin, had a unique expe-rience at the age of nine, and we can think his mission Leo J. Heriot SDB lectures in Salesian history and also teaches pas-toral psychology and Scripture in Moamoa Theological College; P.O. Box 9226; Apia, Western Samoa. Review for Religious took root at this very time. He had a strange but com-pelling dream, and this dream would return to him often and remind him of this mission of his. Each vocation is unique, and each calling is special, but for God to call a boy of nine and show him his mission in symbolic form is very special. He told about his dream in his own terms, couched in his own plain language, but it seems that the Lord was surely present in it: When I was about nine years old I had a dream that left a profound impression on me for the rest of my life. I dreamed that I was near my home, in a very large playing field where a crowd of children were having fun. Some were laughing, some playing, and not a few cursing. I was so shocked at their language that I jumped into their midst, swinging wildly with my arms and shouting at them to stop. At that moment a man appeared, nobly dressed, with an imposing appearance. He was dressed in white, and his face radi-ated such light that I could not look directly at him. He called me by name. "John," he said, "you will have to win over these boys of yours not with punches, but with gentleness and kindness. So now begin to show them that sin is ugly and virtue is attractive." At this stage John said, "I am still only a boy. How can I influence these children for the better?" But the man of his dream told him that he was to change these boys by acquiring knowledg~ and being obedient to the Lord. As the young John watched, he saw these boys change into goats, dogs, cats, bears, and a variety of other animals. The person of his dream told him, "This is your field where you must work, and to carry out your task you must become humble, steadfast, and strong!" As he looked again, he saw these wild animals change into lambs. In his confusion John Bosco asked the majestic lady who appeared next to him to explain the meaning of this strange thing in his life. She told him, "In time 381 64.4 200~ Heriot ¯ Don Bosco's Continuing Mission to Youth When he was ordained a priest on 5 June 1841, he wondered what his future work would be. 382 everything will be made clear to you, and you will under-stand your apostolate." The next morning during breakfast John told his dream. His brothers scoffed at his simplicity, and every-one, including his mother and grandmother, had differ-ent explanations for this dream. Joseph, his older brother, said he would become a sheep farmer, and Anthony, his step-brother, told him he would probably become the leader of gang of robbers. His mother suggested that he might become a priest, and his wise old grandmother told him not to take any notice of dreams!. This dream when he was nine influenced John Bosco all his life. His apostolate and his system of education would be based on the reflections of this dream. When he was ordained a priest on 5 June 1841, with little or no fuss about the ordination, he wondered what his future work would be and how he was supposed to achieve the mission planned for him when he was a little boy. He was offered one or another parish or chaplaincy in Turin. Uncertain of his choice, he went to his spiritual director, Father Joseph Cafasso, and placed before him the various proposals. Strange as it may seem, his guide told him to go to the Convitto Ecdesiastico, a residential center where priests studied spirituality and moral the-ology according to the teaching of St. Alphonsus Liguori. It was not an academic institute so much as a pastoral center w.here a lecture was given morning and evening and the rest of the day was taken up with priestly min-istrations to people in prison, to families in their neigh-borhoods, and to patients in hospitals, especially the Review for Religious hospice founded by Canon Cottolengo (now St. Joseph Benedict Cottolengo). Later on, Don Bosco would write about his experience in this clerical convitto: "Here I learned what it means to be a priest." Turin in the 1840s was a town filled with young per-sons looking for work. There had been a drought for a number of years, and poverty in the villages had forced many boys and young men into the town seeking employment. Employment was limited, and before long many of them were stealing food or money to survive. They were coming from Lombardy, Savoy, and as far away as Switzerland. Needless to say, with the influx of these young men, the prisons became full. In Turin there were four main prisons, and they were crowded with boys from thirteen to eighteen. Their crimes were more from necessity than malice. Don Bosco made it a point to visit these prisons, tak-ing with him bread, sweets, and tobacco. The conditions were appalling: overcrowded, unsanitary. Loudmouths and foulmouths aired their hatred when these priests came to visit. Many priests from the Convitto Ecclesiastico found it hard to visit the prisoners living in such sub-standard conditions. One described the boys in prison as caged animals, often aggressive and impervious to the kindness of friendship. In his first visit to the prison, where the juveniles were mixed together with the hard-ened men, Don Bosco was treated with disdain. Just after Easter in 1842, however, he invited some prisoners to make a retreat. His friendly concern was slowly seeping into the hearts of the detainees. Some came around, but the going remained difficult. Still, he persevered with his plans, even with the comings and goings. Boys in one prison might be released all of a sudden, perhaps only to be apprehended again and given a sentence in another prison. 383 64.4 2005 Heriot ¯ Don Bosco's Continuing Mission to Youth 384] The success of this retreat becomes evident in what Don Bosco managed to obtain for the boys. After the retreat he asked the official in charge, Urban Rattazzi, whether he could take the prison's juveniles to Stupingi for a picnic. Rattazzi agreed, provided that some police-men went along. Don Bosco bargained with him for another arrangement, no policemen. At eight o'clock, .:when the prison gates opened, the guards said to one another, "Well, this is the last we will see of some of these 260 wretches!" But, at the roll call at the end of the day, all had returned--showing that a little bit of kindness brings out the best in the worst of children. Another of Don Bosco's apostolates was in the neigh-borhoods of Turin. Industries were growing there, and on the building sites boys as young as ten or twelve were often seen lugging heavy loads of bricks and mortar on poorly erected scaffolding. Don Bosco would argue with the contractors, appealing for the boys' safety. When he first went to the building sites, he would hear the boys sneering and snickering as he passed: Ecco lo prete, "Look at the [good~for-nothing] churchman!" He would reply, No, un sacerdote, "No, a priest [who sacrifices and blesses]." He would invite these young boys to his house on Sunday, and many would come for the meal and the instruction he offered them. As a matter of fact, many of these boys became his first Salesians. Don Bosco had enormous persuasive power with the young. Don Bosco's third apostolate in these early years of his priesthood was in Canon Cottolengo's hospice, the Little House of Divine Providence. True love was found there. Don Bosco's special interest was in the section dedicated to the young. Many young persons coming from villages had become the victims of syphilis and gon-orrhea. As a result of these sexually transmitted diseases, young sufferers often finished their lives in this hospice. Review for Religious Don Bosco would often put his head in his hands and say in humble prayer, "What can I do to help these young people avoid these diseases that are symptoms of a loose society?" One wonders whether the spirit that in the 19th cen-tury motivated St. John Bosco--founder of the Salesians and, as Pope John Paul II called him, the Father and Teacher of Youth--can be found once again in a world that seems to have forgotten the importance of heart for educating hearts. Education without love is incomplete and can only end in frustration. Compensation Foliage fallen from its color's weight leaves emptiness in the treetops. I look up through gaps in their circuitry and see more of heaven than I could in June. And now at night as I lie in bed. the highest branches are abloom with stars. Patricia L. Schnapp RSM 64.4 2005 religious life ELIZABETH McDONOUGH The Council as Catalyst perspective W-hen I entered the convent, John xxIII was pope, and John E Kennedy was president of the United States. He was the first Catholic to be elected president. The USSR's Nikita Khrushchev had already been on the cover of Time maga-zine holding Sputnik, the first successful unmanned spacecraft. Vatican Council II had completed its first session, but no documents had yet been issued. The city of Berlin in what was East Germany was divided by a massive and formidable wall that could be breached only at the risk of one's life. The French had recently withdrawn from Vietnam, and some of my high school classmates had already fled to Canada to avoid the military draft as American involve-ment in that war began to escalate. JFK had already experienced the Bay of Pigs fiasco, and Elizabeth McDonough OP, our Canonical Counsel colum-nist, has written a number of articles for us. She holds the Bishop Griffin Chair of Canon Law at the Pontifical College Josephinum; 7625 North High Street; Columbus, Ohio 43235. Revie'w for Religious the Cuban missile crisis had been concluded without a nuclear war. Martin Luther King Jr. had very recendy delivered his now famous "I have a Dream" speech at the Lincoln Memorial. Elvis Presley had appeared on the Ed Sullivan show, the Beatles had finished their first frenzied foray into the USA, and Betty Friedan's Feminine Mystique had iust been published. Within ten weeks of my entering the convent, our nearly one hundred postulants and novices were at choir practice early on a Friday afternoon in November when we heard that JFK had been critically wounded in an assassination attempt in Dallas. We said a prayer and continued singing, unaware that he was already dead. Of the thirty-four postulants who entered the same time I did, twenty-two received the habit almost a year later. No one seemed to think it unusual that so many of the postulants who had entered nearly a year before had now departed. By the time Vatican Council II had concluded in December 1965, Malcolm X had been gunned down, and the Watts riots in Los Angeles were a matter of history. Less than two and a half years later, Martin Luther King was assassinated in Memphis. Riots immediately left burnt-out buildings, mounds of rubble, and shattered lives in much of the nation's capital as well as in other major cities across the country. Two months after that, in June 1968, Robert Kennedy was assassinated while cam-paigning in Los Angeles. Later that summer, antiwar riots disrupted the Democratic National Convention in Chicago. That same year, Mary Daly of Boston College published The Church and the Second Sex, and Richard Nixon, who had lost the election to JFK in 1960, became president of the United States. By July 1969, when America placed a man on the 64.4 2005 McDonough ¯ The Council as Catalyst 388 moon, only a dozen of the original thirty-four postu-lants were still members of my religious community. One month later, on the weekend in August when I professed first vows, a three-day "Music and Arts Festival" was held on a rural farm in upstate New York near the small town of Woodstock. The admission price was $6 a day. The following spring, in May 1970, students at Kent State University protesting the Vietnam War were shot and killed by National Guardsmen. In that same year, for the first time in anyone's memory of our commu-nity's hundred and forty years of existence, no one pro-fessed first vows. The decade of the 1960s was considered by some as possibly the best of times, and by others as positively the worst of times. For American Catholic sisters, it may simply have been, on the whole, the least auspicious of times for the church to suggest that we reassess every aspect of our lives. From the vantage point of nearly half a century, it seems that Pope John's basic intent in convoking the Second Vatican Council in 1959 may have been to initi-ate a radical renewal of all of Christian life. In other words, he may have envisioned a total conversion of mind and heart on the part of all Catholics and even all Christians. It seems he may have intended to sow the seeds of a personal and collective, intellectual and voli-tional metanoia in all believers, so that what Jesus Christ bequeathed to the church might further the salvation of humanity more effectively than it had the first two thou-sand years. Recall that by January 1959, when the council was first announced, the world had just witnessed the most continuously violent, humanly devastating half century in recorded history. From his vantage point, Pope John possibly considered it high time--or time well overdue-- Review for Religious for the whole church to reassess its meaning and role and self-understanding in face of the crying needs of humanity. Recall that Vatican II was convoked before the Berlin Wall appeared almost overnight, before the Cuban mis-sile crisis, before America's seventeen-year involvement in the Vietnam War, before the multiple assassinations and urban violence of the 1960s, before humanity first looked at the world from the moon, before the first ter-rorist attack at the 1972 Olympics, and before the suc-cessful cloning of animals. The council was convoked before the resolution of South African apartheid, before Sarajevo, before Rwanda, before Pol Pot in Cambodia, before Tiananmen Square in China, before the Lockerbie crash in Scotland, before Somalia, before the Gulf War, before Oklahoma City, before Columbine, and long before 9/11. It was convoked before the Iraq War, before Darfur, before the Beslan grade school massacre, before the impact of global warming, and before the global impact of AIDS. What, indeed, we might ask, would John xxIII pos-sibly think now? Perhaps much the same as he was think-ing in 1959, namely, that the church still needs to take a genuinely new look at itself and at the rest of reality in light of the salvation wrought by Christ's life-death-res-urrection- ascension. Whatever any of us may think, say, hope, or regret regarding the Second Vatican Council, few even suspect that the positive potential of its origi-nal intent has yet been realized. This is in part because much more time is needed theologically and practically to assess and to internalize what it said and did. But the council's unrealized potential is also, at least in part, the result, of widely divergent interpretations of its content and meaning which have been categorically co-opted and systematically disseminated by clearly dichotomous seg- 64.4 2005 McDonougb * The Coundl as Catalyst A catalyst initiates a reaction and enables to,proceed under milder conditions than otherwise possible. 390 ments of ecclesial society. For nearly four decades, both sides of this ecclesial dichotomy have consciously sus-tained their combative engagement at all levels of church life. And they have done so with an energy and efficiency that has left most Catholics exhausted and not really very much renewed at all. Meanwhile, any genuine intellectual and volitional conversion that might more effectively bring Christ's salvation to the complex human and spir-itual needs of our battered world has not been afforded a fair chance to begin in earnest. So it seems to me. The title of this article refers to the council as a cat-alyst. A catalyst initiates a reaction and enables it to pro-ceed under milder conditions than otherwise possible. The council did initiate a reaction. When the council began, sis-ters in my community were all known by the names given them when they entered the novitiate. This change initi-ated us into an ego-effacing formation deliberately created to foster an encompassing new way of life. All our sisters lived in convents with local superiors and did things in order of rank from old-est to youngest according to when we had made profes-sion. We all ate in silence while someone read an article or book judged by the superior to be of some signifi-cance (which was often unknown to us who listened as we ate). We all ate whatever was served, though exceptions were made for personal illness. Some sisters seemed to have some personal illness rather regularly. A few seemed to have some personal illness for as long as anyone could remember. We generally washed our own dishes "at table" in a large dishpan of initially clean, soapy water. Review for Religious With rare exception, we never ate at unscheduled times and never ate outside of our own refectory (our term for dining room). We all had three habits: one for Sunday, one for our everyday apostolate, and one for work. Unlike men's reli-gious communities, wherein a habit could often be con-veniently donned or doffed, our habits were the only clothes we had. They were worn at all times except when we went to bed. We were fully "habited" at prayer, at our apostolate, at table, when working in the garden, when doing heavy housecleaning, and even when occa-sionally sledding or playing basketball with sisters around our age during a school break. Depending on where we were stationed (that is, where we were assigned to live and work), the work we did could be teaching a class of fifty or more students, peeling bushels of fruit, running industrial laundry equip-ment, washing dishes for as many as five hundred people, using large, heavy, institutional machines to wax wooden floors that had already been waxed far too many times before, or cleaning with toothbrushes the metal grids on the edges of three flights of stairs. This kind of work was not punishment. It was simply the way we took good care of things. We did almost all of the work ourselves, and almost everything was in perfect condition most of the time. We never wasted anything. Wrapping paper and ribbons, boxes and jars, aluminum foil and plastic containers--all were saved to be used again and again. Our families would joke about our reusing everything and called it "nunny." Nowadays many people do it but they call it ecology. We ordinarily awakened to a bell shortly after four o'clock and almost every minute of every day was sched-uled with some event or responsibility. We all retired at a specified time, usually no later than nine-thirty. 64.4 200Y McDonough ¯ The Council as Catalyst 392 Permission was needed for exceptions. After the "lights out" time, some sisters read books in bed under the cov-ers with a flashligl~t. Our rooms were rather small (about 8 x 14 ft.), but they usually had everything we really needed. Back then what we really needed were a bed, a bedside table, a desk, a bookcase, a chair, a lamp, a closet, and a small dresser. Every room had a crucifix on the wall and a little bottle of holy water on the dresser. We did not hang other things on the walls, and we did not have nicknacks. In some of our convents, a few sisters lived in dormitories with curtains separating generally equal spaces which contained mostly the same furniture. In some convents the rooms might have a small sink and a small easy chair. We had common bathroom facilities, but often the superior's room had a private bath. Superiors also had a small, separate office, and the house treasurer usually did too. We could write to our family once a week. Family members could visit occasionally, oftener and more briefly if they lived nearby, less often and longer if they lived farther away. On these visits we never had meals together. We ate in the refectory with the sisters, and our families ate in the guest dining room. Any gifts our family brought were given immediately to the superior, who transferred the best of everything to the chaplain or the pastor if they were things a priest could use. We all regularly asked permission from the superior for doing such things as opening our mail, using the books at our disposal, and having necessary personal toi-let articles. About once a month the superior conducted a meeting of all the sisters which was known as "chapter of faults." This had been a salutary monastic practice of publicly admitting to the sisters with whom you lived your own externally manifest foibles and failures and then asking forgiveness. But by the 1960s this practice Review for Religious had been truly trivialized into merely mentioning some fault from a previously prepared list of supposedly light or medium or serious ones. They ranged from leaving something out of place to talking during "times of silence." Things we actually did or failed to do that really annoyed one another were mostly not on the list. It did not matter much what a sister mentioned from the list, because the sisters you lived with were already very much aware of your external foibles and failures. Some were even aware of your internal ones. What we actually did or failed to do that really annoyed each other was seldom on the list, - - but these provided the ever-present, unrelenting, mutual sandpaper of our lives together. Every sister knew it, all too well. Most sisters in local-community convents had sev-eral jobs besides teaching. Shortly after first profession I taught five classes of math a day (algebra, geometry, trigonometry) at a co-ed high school of a thousand stu-dents, was in charge of the bookstore (textbooks, sta-tionery supplies), was responsible for the convent cars (keeping them clean, full of gas, and fixed when neces-sary), was convent treasurer ("qualified" because I taught math), and traveled a hundred miles each Saturday for M.A. studies financed by a National Science Foundation grant. What I was doing was not unusual, it seems to me. But we were much younger then. When Vatican II began, the religious community I entered had 720 members. It owned and operated two colleges for women, three highly successful high schools, and a small hospital. All of these had a sister as presi- Most sisters in local-community convents had several jobs besides teaching. 64.4 200~ McDonough ¯ The Coundl as Catalyst 3941 dent, principal, or CEO. All of these had at least a dozen sisters serving in various capacities. We also staffed sev-eral large Catholic high schools and more than three dozen Catholic grade schools in various dioceses in five different states. We were known for being quite good at what we did, and it seemed to me we were. We related professionally to the lay people with whom we worked, but we never really socialized with them. They were called "seculars," and the sisters greatly outnumbered them. By the time I entered, because learning and teach-ing were central to our heritage, it was rare for a sister to be assigned to teach without having at least a B.A. degree. Many sisters already had or were studying for master's or doctoral degrees. Except for those studying, we all came "home" to the motherhouse and worked there or nearby during the summer months. In mid August year after year, we received any new assignments by hearing a list read aloud to all of us assembled in the motherhouse chapel. We were not consulted about the assignments. The very next day we were all on our way to this or that convent in this or that town, each of us with all our belongings. Back then, those belongings always fitted into one large trunk plus, for some, a small suitcase. The convent in which you landed in those days might be subject to the occasional but dreadfully harmful tyranny of a superior who probably should never have had a position of authority. In those days the mother general--the sister in charge of the whole congregation, who herself was elected--appointed all the local superi-ors. It was only in the mid 1970s that sisters in our local houses got to elect their own superior. The election of the mother general took place every four years at a for-mal, solemn gathering called the general chapter. All the sisters voted for delegates to the chapter, and the dele- Review for Religqous gates elected the mother general and the four councilors who assisted her. Besides the elections, these delegates also made decisions about other things that concerned the whole community. While the chapter was in progress, the rest of us usually did not know much about what was going on, although a few always seemed to know most of what was going on everywhere. In local communities, some superiors treated author-ity as a matter of control and more or less trampled on the sensibilities of others in the house, except for favorites of theirs (for whatever reason). In retrospect, it seems that the favorites were being groomed to become future superiors. Many of them did. The nonfavorites were thankful when they were assigned to another house or when the superior went "out of office." Some incom-petent superiors, recycled in a sort of "lateral arabesque," wreaked havoc again on sisters elsewhere. Such superi-ors were the exception, not the norm. But they were really notable exceptions if they were your own supe-rior. The convent in which you landed could also fall under the diplomatically gloved but predominantly iron hand of a local pastor who controlled everything, from the horarium (our daily schedule) to the purse strings. Back then, financial remuneration for sisters was a pittance. In the early 1970s I was among twenty-eight sisters in a city with one of the highest per capita incomes in the country. Two dozen of us had degrees, some even graduate degrees. We taught in a large diocesan high school or in a nearby parish grade school or worked in a diocesan office. One sister was a full-time cook for the convent. Though not many of us knew how to cook for twenty-eight people, we took turns helping to cook on weekends. Every sister in the convent received a salary of $1,800 per year. Of course, the convent and its mainte-nance were paid for by the parish or school, and we had 64.4 200Y McDonough ¯ The Council as Catalyst 396 three cars for our use, paying only the cost of gas for community trips. At that time there was rarely any for-mal provision for sisters' healthcare, but most necessary medical services were donated by local doctors and den-fists. No one ever even thought of retiring, so no retire-ment funds were ever requested or received. It all "worked" fiscally because there were so many of us and we were so young and lived so frugally. I cannot say we went without necessities and must admit we also had occasional extra amenities that were probably unavailable to most of our own families. Remarkably--or perhaps not so remarkably--we usually sent a monthly surplus to the motherhouse. In that way, convents which had difficulties in making ends meet could be given sup-plements from the congregation's general fund. The gen-eral fund also supported our older sisters when they were no longer able to work, but every sister worked for as long as she could. In retrospect it seems that, if we had received higher stipends, we could have recycled much more of that town's wealth into poorer schools and parishes elsewhere through our sisters' donated services. Like most sisters' communities, we also operated schools where many parents simply could not pay any tuition at all. Wherever you lived back then, ever-present poten-tial pitfalls of our life together centered on the possible overemphasis on externals or a possibly excessive legalism in observing regulations as supposedly indicative of what constituted a "good sister." I label them potential pitfalls because, in retrospect, there may have been only three basic ways for us to deal constructively with the exter-nals and the legalism. These realities seemed to domi-nate the entire ethos of Catholicism in America before Vatican II, and they certainly fit all too comfortably into the total ambience of religious life. But, to be construc- Review for Religious tive about it, you could basically only comply with the externals or you could identify with them or you could try to internalize their meaning. Whether or not a sister was really prone to legalism was somehow related to which of the above options predominated for her. Back then, it seemed that just about any sister who wanted to stay in the convent could learn to comply with just about everything that was asked of her, and most did. Even if you did not like doing this or that, you could usually appear pretty good at doing it. Even novices could learn to comply externally most of the time, or at least enough of the time to be admitted to first profes-sion. At another level, back then it seemed to me that most sisters rather readily identified with the communal importance of what was expected of us for the sake of the bigger picture of who we were together. And most somehow sensed that who we were together was immensely greater than the sum of the parts. So the value of accepting certain externals of our collective identity, such as living and praying and working together or wear-ing the same habit or engaging in common practices, was eventually mostly integrated as part of the overall package that both strengthened and assuaged the ins and outs of the day-to-day reality of our lives. But, at still another level, back then it seemed to me that you could personally and spiritually internalize what-ever you did as fitting somehow in the adventure of hav-ing promised your whole life to God no matter what. It also seemed to me that some sisters, mostly older ones, had actually internalized what it might really mean to live our life within the ambience of all the externals but with a balance and healthiness that had no hint of legal-ism. They seemed to understand that none of the exter-nals were the essentials. They also seemed to understand 64.4 2005 McDonough ¯ The Council as Catalyst 398 that all we did was intended to foster somehow the life we publicly professed and interiorly hoped to live. I think we all truly hoped to be good, maybe even holy. And I think we all truly wanted to do good, no matter what we actually happened to do. From the deeper, longer, wiser perspective of these seasoned sisters, the externals seemed to matter less, even though they were faithful in observ-ing them. For sure, very early on, I knew I definitely wanted to belong someday to the last group just described. In the midst of all this, it also seemed to me that most of us were happy and productive most of the time. We mostly tried to be prayerful women as best we knew how and to be responsively obedient in sometimes diffi-cult circumstances. For the most part, we had fun with one another, good clean fun, much more often than onlookers may ever have suspected. For the most part, we were quite competent at what we did in significant areas of education, study, and learning. And the regimenta-tion of much of our life even afforded some sisters the opportunity of serving others much more effectively than they might have done on their own. Somehow, in com-munities of women religious forty years ago, in some real way, we really were family to one another, warts and all. And through it all, perhaps in spite of it all, we were definitely not all alike, and we knew it. We knew that no visible similarities rendered us actually similar. But we knew, too, that in many ways all was not well with the way we lived and that much could or should be effec-tively changed for the better. From the moment conciliar documents were avail-able in English, the sisters in my community enthusias-tically read and studied them. The promulgation of the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy in December 1963 had enormous positive consequences for American Review for Religious Catholic sisters. Until then, other than Mass, prayer in common for sisters in communities with post- Reformation origins often consisted entirely of medita-tion in common, various litanies~ multiple rosaries, and numerous devotional prayers composed by whoever had founded them. In these communities the meditation topic was usually chosen by the superior, announced the evening before, and had an obligatory format usually fol-lowing standard steps adapted from Ignatian spiritual-ity or from a variation of the 17th-century French school of spirituality. Sisters in communities tracing their her-itage to before the Reformation usually prayed a short-ened "little office" consisting of psalms, with antiphons and responses in honor of the Sacred Heart, the Blessed Virgin Mary, or others. These communities also prayed the rosary in common, but usually had fewer litanies and devotional prayers. Meditation was always in chapel together at an early hour, but a common meditation topic or specific method set by the superior would not usu-ally have been obligatory. Before the council, for the most part, only clergy were considered as officially praying the official Divine Office in the name of the church and as part of its offi-cial worship. Indeed, even if nonclergy prayed the same Divine Office from the same books, it was not considered participation in the church's liturgical prayer. Very soon, however, sisters in communities of any heritage began chorally praying the psalms of the breviary and finding this practice to be immensely more meaningful than their previous devotions. The promulgation of the Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation in November 1965 also proved particularly significant for American Catholic sisters, who responded instantly and enthusiastically to new or renewed biblical studies. But no conciliar document altered the reality of reli- 64.4 200Y McDonough ¯ The Council as Ca~alys~ gious life for sisters in apostolic congregations in the United States more than the Decree on the "Accommodata Renovatione" of Religious Life promulgated in October 1965. The Latin phrase accommodata renovatione is delib-erately retained here, not to be pedantic, but because this cryptic description of what was apparently intended for religious life is not easily translated and because one common translation--"adaptation and renewal"--is sim-ply not correct. This erroneous translation, however, was at first used so frequently that dichotomous expla-nations arose describing "adaptation" as pertaining to external elements of religious life and "renewal" as per-taining to internal, spiritual matters of religious life. The title actually called for the entire reality of religious life to be renewed or restored or refreshed or revived in a suitable or fitting manner. This was quite in keeping with John xxIII'S intention that the church more effec-tively bring the riches of salvation in Christ to bear on humanity's immediate and ultimate needs. To this end, article 2 of Perfectae caritatis made clear that effective renewal should occur under the influence of the Holy Spirit and with church guidance. It would involve returning to both the sources of Christian life and the initial inspiration of religious communities as adapted to the altered conditions of current times. PC (Perfectae caritatis, not personal computer!) affirmed fol-lowing Christ in the Gospels as the supreme rule of life for every religious, while urging acceptance and retention of the community's original spirit and aims and sound traditions. It encouraged religious institutes to foster church initiatives in keeping with their own proper char-acter. It mandated that communities should help their members to better understand human realities, world conditions, and the needs of the church. It strongly reaf-firmed the profession of the evangelical counsels and Review for Religious clearly emphasized the importance of spiritual renewal. Article 3 of PC asked every religious community to harmonize its life, prayer, and work with the physical and psychological condition of its members, and it asked us to do likewise in relation to the apostolate, the sur-rounding culture, and overall economic circumstances. It mandated examination of the community's mode of gov-ernment and called for proper revision of constitutions, directories, customs, prayers, and ceremonies in order to bring them into sync with changes promulgated in other conciliar documents. Article 4 of Perfectae caritatis urged the cooperation of all community members in the renewal effort, which it particularly entrusted to competent internal authorities such as general chapters and legitimate superiors. At the same time, it required superiors to consult with com-munity members and to actually listen to them. So it seemed to most of us that someone somewhere who had worked on the formulation of PC must have known that many things might need changing from the way they were back then. All this was prescribed in the context of our individ-ual response to a divine call to express our baptismal consecration more fully by living solely for God with an apostolic orientation in service of the church (articles 5 and 8). Not surprisingly, PC reaffirmed that the three evangelical counsels commonly professed by religious are spiritually and humanly efficacious for fostering maturity, responsible interaction with authority, and con-structive life together. The reordering of the traditional vow sequence from poverty-chastity-obedience to chastity-poverty-obedience was noted, though there was no evident reason for it (articles 12-15). PC also mandated alteration of religious habits inso-far as they were not conducive to hygiene or were no 401 64.4 2005 McDonough ¯ The Council as Catalyst Women religious in the Unl,ted States took these conciliar mandates)~,~- and challengers quite.seriously,; responding to them with astounding interest and concerted action. 402 [ longer simple or were not genuinely attuned to apos-tolic needs (article 17). It initiated longer and more com-prehensive formation (article 18) and urged maintenance of current ministries while simultaneously calling for a renewed missionary spirit (article 20). And it pointedly reminded religious everywhere that the "example of their own lives" was the best invitation for others to join them in this way of witness in the church (article 23). Without a doubt, women religious in the United States took these conciliar mandates and challenges quite seriously, responding to them with astounding interest and concerted action. And, without a doubt, Vatican II was a catalyst for renewal. It initi-ated a genuine, whole-hearted, enthusiastic response on the part of American Catholic sis-ters regarding who they were, how they lived and prayed, what they did, and what they were being called to do. On the other hand, from the vantage point of hindsight, it is now rather clear that many changes in religious life catalyzed by the coun-cil did not proceed under the milder conditions that cat-alytic conversions are supposed to make possible. In most communities of American Catholic sisters, experimentation in living and praying and working seems never to have ended, while in some communities their living and praying and working seems never to have changed. In most communities of American Catholic sis-ters, constitutional revisions seem never to have found Review for Religious the last, best way of expressing what sisters really want to say, while in some communities only grammar and syn-tax seem to have been altered, and only minimally. In most communities of American Catholic sisters, corporate apostolates have almost completely disappeared, while in some communities apostolic endeavors seem to have remained exactly the same as they were forty years ago. In most communities of American Catholic sisters, many members wear completely secular attire, while in some communities the sisters' only attire remains a Sunday or weekday or work habit, one of which is worn at all times. In most communities of American Catholic sisters, many members live alone in rented apartments, are responsible to no internal superior below the gen-eral council (now commonly known as a leadership team), find their own jobs, visit relatives at their own convenience, organize their own work schedules, and are basically responsible for maintaining their own well-being. In stark contrast, in some communities life is very much the same as it was forty years ago: all sisters live in convents, are assigned to ministry with little consulta-tion, have local superiors, follow a standard horarium, eat in common, wash dishes at table, never visit their families overnight, and--among a plethora of other per-sonal human constraints--may still be permitted to shower or bathe only once a week. This article refers to the council as a catalyst. In ret-rospect, it is clear that the catalytic impulse of the coun-cil occurred during a decade of rapid and sweeping cultural upheavals in the world. In retrospect, it is also clear that in the United States the catalytic impulse of Vatican lI coincided with conditions of extreme social turbulence. Ostensibly genuine responses to the man-dates of Vatican II during a time of great and ongoing social unrest seem to have resulted forty years later in a 64.4 2005 McDonough ¯ The Council as Catalyst far more than minimal divergence in the ways various communities of sisters in America live and pray and work. From what appear to be the result of forces in play forty years ago, in merely human terms the 1960s may have been the least auspicious time for the church to have sug-gested that American Catholic sisters should reassess every aspect of their lives. Indeed, it seems that strongly affirmed good inten-tions and long-sustained earnest efforts have actually brought American Catholic sisters to diametrically opposed positions of immense disparity in spirituality, theology, apostolic endeavors, internal structures, and overall functioning. In four decades of trying to achieve an accommodata renovatio, many communities of American Catholic sisters appear to have unconsciously but enthu-siastically adapted themselves into impending oblivion, while some other communities of American Catholic sis-ters appear to have consciously and steadfastly remained basically unrenewed. And, in this ongoing process, the genuine challenge of Vatican Council II for religious life as a gift to the church--and to the waiting world-- remains as yet overwhelmingly unrealized. Or so it seems to me. His Smile Radiant goodness broke out from ear to ear a would-be down of pain turned up a smile ingratiating, inviting a welcome sign to an open heart; a home. I stepped in and stayed awhile. Walter Bunofsky SVD Review for Religious CHRISTIAN RAAB Monks' Stability and Punxsutawney Toe 1993 Harold Ramis film Groundhog Day is the ry of a television weatherman named Phil, played by Bill Murray, who soon finds himself in a time warp. As the film begins, Phil is cocky, sarcastic, and self-important and resents being sent to the small town of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, to cover the Groundhog Day festival. He spends the day ridiculing the provin-cialisms of the people, bragging about his chances of becoming an anchorman, and trying, rather rudely, to charm his attractive ~producer, Rita, played by Andie MacDowell. At day's end Phil's TV crew gets snowed in. Phil awakens the next day to discover that it is February 2 once again, though he is the only one who seems to notice. He relives the whole day, encounter by encounter, no more gracefully and with even more frustration than he had the day before. He finally goes to bed, hoping that he has gotten over the world's worst case of d4j~ vu. He awakens, however, to find that it is February 2 for Christian Raab OSB is a newly professed Benedictine monk at St. Meinrad Archabbey; 100 Hill Drive; St. Meinrad, Indiana 47577. 64.4 200Y Raab ¯ Monks' Stability and Punxsutawney the third time. These repetitions continue for the rest of the movie. Phil quite clearly has become stuck in Groundhog Day. As he keeps reliving this day and reencountering the people in it, Phil's reactions change--from utter frus-tration and angry outbursts to something else. He real-izes that a life without consequences beyond one day can be used for unbounded pleasure seeking. When he tires of this, he turns his attention toward winning the heart of Rita. He spends days figuring out who the perfect man is in Rita's eyes, and then he pretends to be this person. Needless to say, it does not work. Phil responds with despair and, believing it is the only way out of his private hell, tries again and again to end his life. After each attempt, however, he awakens to the same song on the radio and sees that it is still February 2. Finally Phil recognizes that his selfishness is getting him nowhere. He begins to live for others. He gets to know people and responds to their needs. He feeds a homeless man. He is kind to an annoying character. He helps counsel a young couple. He knows what time every day several old ladies get a flat tire and hurries there to fix it for them. He knows what time each day a young boy falls from a tree, and he rushes there to catch him. Discovering that he has a gift for music, he develops and shares it. He becomes part of the community he once ridiculed, and at last, by forgetting himself, he escapes his fate and reaches February 3. There is something about Phil's Groundhog Day that living as a novice in a Benedictine monastery resonates with. Benedictine iife, especially in the novitiate, is very structured and repetitive. Every day begins the same. At 5:15 a.m., the bells announce Morning Prayer. After Morning Prayer is breakfast, then private spiritual read-ing. At 7:30 a.m. we return to church for Mass. When Review for Religious this is over, we may grab a quick cup of coffee before the workday begins at 8:30 a.m. Coffee break is at 10 a.m. At noon comes Midday Prayer and then lunch, fol-lowed by work or class again at 1 p.m. At 4:30 p.m. the workday ends. The monks go back to church at 5 p.m. for Vespers. After this we have another period of private spiritual reading, and then at 6 p.m. we meet for the evening meal. After dinner, monks are usually free to recreate, study, or go to bed, as the case may be. The monk ends his day, goes to sleep, awakens again the next day to the ring-ing of the bells, and the cycle begins again. It is - - a structured, repetitive, and somewhat predictable life. In some ways, every day feels the same. Of course, this structured life is not just a repetition of practices. More important, it is a repetition of encoun-ters with people. It is easy to know that a particular brother can be expected to sit at a particular place in the refectory during breakfast. A certain father will be arriv-ing at the coffeemaker at 7 a.m. Some monks will sit on this side of the calefactory during coffee, break, and oth-ers will sit on the other side. We expect to see certain monks in the computer lab before we open the door. We know who will almost surely be playing cards after supper. We become familiar with the sounds of monks' breathing and walking. We begin to know who will like a book and who will hate it, who will take a joke and who won't, who likes hugs and who doesn't, who prefers the mornings and who prefers the evenings. In the way that monastic life provides a series of repeat encounters This structured life is not just a repetition of practices; it is a repetition of encounters with people. 407 64.4 2005 Raab ¯ Monks' Stability and Punxsutawney 408 and practices, it is not much different from Groundhog Day. The monk, unlike Phil, voluntarily chooses this life of repetitive practices and encounters in connection with the vow of stability. The vow is a monk's promise to stay in the same place with the same people and engage in the same monastic practices for the rest of his life. Like all the vows, stability is a means toward the end of con-version. Our Brother John Mark explains that stability aids conversion by providing a sure and solid context in which the human will may conform to the will of the loving God. He compares the human will to a steel rod that, in conversion, is bent into conformity with the divine will. One cannot bend a rod without having something strong and solid to hold it in place. This is what stabil-ity does. It provides the strong and solid foundation that makes conversion--the bending of the rod--possible. Stability means the monk stays put. He commits to repeat his day over and over again in the same place with the same people doing the same things. And so the monk, in a very real way, is choosing to do what Phil did invol-untarily, to stay in one place, to relive and reencounter while being transformed. Repetition can help us with this transformation, not merely by keeping us surefooted, but by supplying and resupplying opportunities for loving choices. For exam-ple, because I am in this repetitive life, each day I have the opportunity to be more attentive in liturgy, and to be more open in prayer, than I was earlier. As I live and work each day alongside some people who annoy me, I have the opportunity to "love my enemies," to set aside grievances, to practice patience, to exercise charity. Each day I have the opportunity to anticipate needs in the elderly monks, to clean things with more care than I did Review for Religious the day before, to listen with more receptivity to the lonely and the needy. Because so many of our experiences and encounters repeat themselves, I am, each day and always, given the opportunity to be humble where I was proud, to be chaste where I was lustful, to be calm where I was angry, to be forgiving where I was unforgiving, to be assertive where I was a pushover. In this way, stability, by its rep-etition, can be accepted as a great gift on the path to holiness. The monk who perseveres can, like Phil, be trans-formed. Like Phil, we may come to this life with prob-lems of self-centeredness, sarcasm, conceit, anger, despair, or lust. But, if we are open to the grace that comes with living, out stability in a monastic community, we, like Phil, may be transformed into persons of char-ity. In the last scene of Groundhog Day, Phil has finally "gotten it right" and the morrow has finally come. On the morning of February 3, the now-transformed Phil says to Rita with joyful single-mindedness, "Is there any-thing I can do for you today?" It is this monk's hope that he may be able to start his own day, each day, with the same happy singularity of purpose, saying to my broth-ers and to God, "Is there anything I can do for you today?" ZPlease:note that the phone and fax number for the editorial offices of Review for Religious :have changed. The new numbers are: PHONE 31'4-633-4610 :and FAX 314-633-4611. 409 64.4 2005 the ANDREW RYDER Led by the Spirit: St. Augustine spirit 4101 St. Augustine's reflections on Christianity were very original and also much influenced by the facts of his own life. He forged his ideas 6n the hard anvil of his own conversion and his need, as a bishop, to defend the teaching of the Catholic Church. This combination of speculation and experience gives his writings a unique ongoing relevance. Their blending of the theoretical and the practical is nowhere more evident than in his teaching on the Holy Spirit. His Spirit doc-trine develops through three movements: his agonizing effort leading to his conversion, his need as a pastor to explain the church's doc-trines, and his awareness that the action of grace is the love of the Holy Spirit dwelling in our hearts. Fortunately, the key to understanding these three movements, and indeed all of Augustine's theology, is his most popular com- Andrew Ryder scJ presents the second of his four arti-cles on the Holy Spirit. His address is St. Joseph's Retreat Centre; Malpas; Cheshire SY14 7DD; United Kingdom. Review for Religious position, the Confessions. This work records his long-drawn- out struggle to find God. The Confessions The opening words of the Confessions set the tone. Augustine's masterpiece is not a sorrowful account of past misdeeds. It is not a lurid description of a misspent youth, but rather a joyful poem praising the God who has delivered him from sin and error: "Can any praise be worthy of the Lord's majesty? How magnificent his strength! How inscrutable his wisdom! Man is one of your creatures, Lord, and his instinct is to praise you. He bears about him the mark of death, the sign of his own sin, to remind him that you thwart the proud. But still, since he is a part of your creation, he wishes to praise you" (Conf 1.1).' The Confessions are not an autobiography in the mod-ern sense, but rather a profession of faith in the majest

Issue 57.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1998. ; rev lew for religio.us MARCH-APRIL 1998 ¯ VOLUME 57 ¯ NUMBER 2 Review for Religious is a forum for shared reflection on the lived experience of all who find that the church's rich heritages of spi~tuality 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: t~OPPEMA@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, .\'IN 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 creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial S.taff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer sJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean R~ad James and Joan Felling Kathryn Richards FSP Joel Rippinger OSB Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living MARCH-APRIL 1998 " VOLUME 57 * NUMBER 2 contents 118 138 146 unique witness: a symposium Religious Life and the Eclipse of Love for God Edward Vacek SJ shows how there has been a certain eclipse of the love of God which also affects religious life. A Witness of Unique Witnessing Sidney Callahan sketches for us her perceptive laywoman's glimpse of religious life's present and future. Religious Life: Where Does It Fit in Today's Church? Doris Gottemoeller RSM presents an understanding of religious life as a dynamic and tested way within the church to follow Jesus Christ more closely and to serve him more generously. 161 169 spiritual renewal Creative Fidelity: Renewal in the Spirit of St. John of God Stephen de la Rosa OH reflects on the spirituality of the Brothers of St. John of God in the light of God's call to a creative fidelity. Journeying to Common Ground: Ira Progoff and Catholic Spiritual Renewal Francis Dorff OPraem reviews the integrating work of Ira Progoff in terms of its continuing importance for Catholic spiritual renewal. Review for Religious 174 180 meditative reflections The Lamb: A Johannine Meditation Patrick J. Ryan SJ enters us into a prayerful reflection of the beloved disciple advanced in years. What Were They Talking About? A Bethany Reflection Joseph G. Bachand MS offers a fresh interpretative reading of the Lucan passage about Martha and Mary which focuses the challenges of discipleship for all Christians. 186 report U.S. Hispanic Catholics: Trends and Works 1997 Kenneth G. Davis OFMConv, Eduardo C. Fern~indez SJ, and Ver6nica M~ndez RCD present a panoramic of the year's events within the U.S. Hispanic Catholic community. departments 116 Prisms 202 Canonical Counsel: The Evangelical Counsel of Chastity 208 Book Reviews prisms VV~hen Pope John Paul identified 1998 as a year especially focused on the Holy Spirit and his sanc-tifying presence within the community of Christ's disci-ples, he did not make use of thdword paraclete as a special identity-word for the Spirit. Yet this strange-sounding word paraclete holds meanings particularly appropriate for our Christian understanding of God, for our Lenten renewal, and for our premillennium preparation. The word paraclete becomes a kind of prism when it is used as a title for the Holy Spirit. Often in the English-language translations of the Gospel of St. John paraclete is retained as a direct transliteration of the Greek word, lit-erally meaning "one called alongside of." The first mean-ing favored in a reading of the Johannine Gospel is that of a defender, signifying someone like a defense attorney in a lawsuit. At other times the meaning is broadened by the translation of counselor, as in one who carefully listens and gives clarity and advice and support. Still another mean-ing which is frequendy found is captured in the word com-forter. A comforter is one who strengthens and upholds. Paraclete, then, can be viewed differendy, depending upon the plane of reflection, but all the meanings are rich in connotation for us as recipients of this personal paschal gifting of Christ. The church season of Lent provides us with the occa-sion to acknowledge ourselves as sinners in the presence of a just and compassionate God. But the Spirit as para-clete presents us with an image of God as the one who is the "defending lawyer"--the one who is spending his ener-gies defending us, in the face of any accusers we might have. God the Spirit is the one who gives this sense of Review for Relig%us divine presence as defender. As St. Paul would reflect, "If God is for us, who can be against us?" (Rm 8:31). Lent is also a time for us to seek counsel and assess the drives and ambitions, the values and the dreams that fill and motivate our life. Discernment of spirits in the decision making that structures our lives is a gift of the Spirit to all the members of the Christian community. A Vatican II church, trying to live out its agenda described in the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, has great need to call upon the discernment gift of the Counselor. We know that, in the sometime darkness of our attempt to live a Christian life in a world of differing values, our refuge is in seeking the counsel of a God so involved with us that his person is experienced as one who enlightens and guides. All too often we act fearfully or rashly, with little reliance on Christ's promise: "In that hour, say what you are inspired to say. It will not be yourselves speaking but the Holy Spirit" (Mk 13:11). Lent uncovers our weakness and fragility in our following of Christ. We, like the first apostles, are too ready to take flight in the face of temptation or opposition. Our actions do speak louder than our words, and to the eyes of secular society we might appear even to deny our faith. God enters into our lives at these times with the support and strength necessary for our Christian witness. We come to recognize our God especially as the one who confirms and con-soles. "By patient endurance you will save your lives" (Lk 21:19). In John's Gospel, Jesus describes the giving of the Spirit in terms of an abiding presence of "another" paraclete with us. In his Last Supper discourse, Jesus first applies the tide to himself by his using the word another, and then through the rest of the discourse he gives Paraclete over to the Holy Spirit as a proper name. The Spirit makes real to our human experience that God's presence is truly that ofparaclete--one who defends, one who counsels, and one who strengthens. Jesus, the pioneer for our faith life, inspires our confidence in such a God. Lent is the traditional time in the church for a renewed effort in our following Christ in the pattern of his paschal mystery. We, like Jesus, can only walk the road to Jerusalem if we are led by the Spirit. As we make our Christian preparations to enter into the 2 lst-century era with a renewed emphasis upon our evangelization efforts, we need to call upon God who is truly Paraclete for us. David L. Fleming SJ March-April 1998 unique witness a symposium EDWARD VACEK Religious Life and the Eclipse of Love for God What I propose to do is describe the relation of consecrated life to my favorite topic, love for God. The connection is not as easy as it might seem. Is it important to love God direcdy? I suppose most of us would answer, "Of course! This is the most important thing we can do." In view of this I think I should point out, before saying anything else, that lots of people, including Christians with impeccable credentials, do not think we need directly love God. Indeed, some positively discour-age it. After that I will describe at some length several ways we can love God. I will conclude with a few obser-vations how religious life should be a paradigm of Jesus' first great commandment. I hope to encourage those of us in religious life to exercise a much needed public wit-ness to a personal friendship with God. The Problem Since my topic sounds like an all-too-familiar and therefore boring sermon topic, let me put my theme in more provocative language: Religious communities have been and, to some degree, still are in danger of losing Edward Vacek SJ, professor of Christian ethics at Weston Jesuit School of Theology, presented this paper, here somewhat revised, at a symposium on Religious Life's Unique Witness held in October 1997 at the Jesuit Center for Spiritual Growth, Wernersville, Pennsylvania. His address is 3 Phillips Place; Cambridge, Massachusetts 02138. Review for Religious their souls. For the past forty years, we have been preoccupied with questions of lifestyle and governance, with examining past traditions and choosing new ministries. We had to do this. But these topics have tended to distract us from what is most central to our vocation. My concern is that we have shifted from being overly God-centered to being overly world-centered. At least we often talk as if that is the case. Our current silence about the possibil-ity of a direct love for God is worrisome because, when no one witnesses to this relationship, it will come to seem unimportant. If a "Jesus and me" spirituality too often forgot the neighbor, a "love your neighbor" spirituality can make us forget that God deserves all our love. The Origin of This Topic Before I go any further, let me relate how I came to this topic. I recently published a book on Christian love titled Love, Human and Divine.' I set out to show the connection between Jesus' first and second great commandments. Strange as it may seem, I found little in theology books on love for God. Sensitized by that dis-covery, I began to listen to how we post-Vatican II Catholics talk. When we use the phrase "love of God," we usually are referring to God's love for us and not our love for God. Classroom experience pushed my concerns further. I began to ask my students, many of whom are in religious life, this question: What do you mean by love for God? These students usually give one of four answers. First, those who are still dealing with legal-ism commonly say that loving God means not breaking any of the ten commandments. Second, other students say that love for God means taking care of the poor or the needy. Third, and most commonly, students say that loving God means being helpful to one's neighbor. Fourth, there are usually a few who have drunk deeply of our era's psychology, and they say that loving God means loving one's best or deepest self. Unfortunately, none of these replies answers my question. The first reply omits love, and all four omit God. Indeed, an atheist could give any of these replies. One of my most personally disturbing examples of this trend is very explicit. A student of mine, a young man about twenty-five years old, was finishing his master's thesis on the writings of a medieval mystic. He was fascinated by her sexual language of pen- March-April 1998 Vacek * Religious Life and the Eclipse of Love for God etration and indwelling. What h~ found distressing, however, was that this mystic wrote as if there was an inequality between her-self and the God she loved. Needless to say, I was surprised, so I asked him, "Do you really think we are equal to God? . Everyone knows," he replied with utter simplicity, "the word God is simply a symbol for the best in human life." His reduction of God to a symbol of the best in the world is, I suggest, an apt paradigm for the trend I am resisting. He is not alone. In a recent survey by the magazine U.S. Catholic, whose reader~ are mostly int~erested and involved Catholics, approximately fifty percent of people aged 36-55 said that we can be spiritual without any belief in God.2 Similarly, Sandra Schneiders has recently observed that many religious women and men have adopted a personal spirituality in which the central tenets and practices of Christianity have little place.3 For them spirituality means sitting in one's room listefii~ng to music or doing Zen. It means hiking in the fields or skiing in the mountains. It means getting a massage or enjoying a fine glass of wine. Anything that helps one to get calm and keep bal-anced in this crazy world is spirituality. As should be obvious, these "spiritual activities" can be accomplished relatively well without God. Causes for Decline How have we come to bracket off, even if only partially, a spirituality that is centered on love for God? I am sure there are hundreds of contributing factors, and I intend to discuss only some of the more obvious. Rather than focusing on any corrupt-ing influences from "the big bad world," I want to talk about rea-sons internal to the church's life. I will speak about the emphasis; in contemporary spirituality on the poor, the neighbor, and the' self. I will also point to difficulties people have with the church. Care for the Poor One of the great triumphs of our post-Vatican II world has been the renewed emphasis on care for the poor as essential to the practice of our faith. This concern for justice, however, may have been purchased at too great a price. Most people thought Mother Teresa was a saint and had this esteem for her precisely because of her work for the poor. Only in her death did I hear anyone Review for Religious say she had a deep prayer life. Mother Teresa also had a reputa-tion, whether deserved or not, of not even being concerned about the religious lives of those she served. Mother Teresa surely did an essential work of Christianity and did it far better than ninety-nine percent of us. Still, what is there in our contemporary religious mind that allows us to regularly praise care for the poor while practicing in print and in conversation a near total blackout concerning a person's love for God and her desire to help others love God? One reason lies in the theology of the "anonymous Christian" that captivated many of us after Vatican II. The attraction of this theology was that it motivated us to social justice and made it possible for us to be open-minded towards non-Catholics. The darling text of this theology is the familiar story of Matthew 25. W]aen people come before Jesus for their final judgment, he blesses them if they have given a cup of water to needy strangers. In amazement they reply that they did not know they were serving Jesus. Those judged for fail-ing to give the water imply that, if the thirsty person had been Jesus, they would have given the water gladly. Jesus rejects their plea. The conclusion drawn from this story by many theologians is that we should focus our care on needy human beings. They hold that we miss the point when we want to direct our attention explicitly to Christ. Of late, however, the theology of the anonymous Christian looks somewhat shopworn. It obscures why anyone should want to be explicitly a Christian. All the more, it makes baffling why anyone would want to enter religious life. This theology forgets that the meaning of our lives is greatly affected by the explicit personal relationships we have. And chief among these should be our love for God. If we care only for God's world, then our hearts will ultimately be restless. We need regularly to look God in the eye. That is called prayer. People sometimes say, "Love is not looking warmly into the eyes of another; rather, love is looking together out toward the world." But, if a woman I loved asked me why I never looked warmly into her eyes, I would feel justly accused. Similarly with God. How have we come to bracket off, even if only partially, a spirituality that is centered on love for God ? Marcia-April 1998 Vacek ¯ Religious Life and the Eclipse of Love fbr God Something is wrong with a theology in which Jesus' own prac-tice of prayer turns out to be un-Christian. Helping One's Neighbor For years after Vatican II, whenever I would preach or teach on the importance of loving our neighbor, heads would nod in agreement. Rarely if ever did someone object that I forgot to mention love for God. In recent years I have given several talks urging a direct love for God. Afterwards, almost always, some-one in the audience will ask why I did not talk more about love for our neighbor. In an attempt to be helpful, someone else will usually offer the clarification that the true "meaning" or "sign" or "test" of love for God is our love for our neighbor. And with that the audience will feel at ease again. Such experiences sug-gest to me that with Vatican II we recovered the second of Jesus' two great commandments, but we seem to have lost the primacy of the first. Let me relate an incident that happened several years ago. Late one evening a young Jesuit who had just moved into the community joined me for some apple pie. He was still feeling his way, and so he asked me whether the community was very spiri-tual. Not knowing what he meant by spiritual, I paused. He tried to clarify his question: "You know, is this a group of guys who are just interested in their studies, or are people really spiritual?" Thinking I now knew what he was asking, I replied that we have Mass in the house four days of the week, we join other commu-nities on two other days, and most of us have a ministry on Sunday. I began to name some other prayer and penance things we do, but at this point he interjected: "No, I didn't mean that stuff. I mean do the men care for one another." His practice bore out his concern. He was always one of the first to ask how my day had gone, and he was one of the last to find his way to chapel. This little encounter is an indicator of what I believe is a much wider phenomenon. If we talk only about love for our neighbor, we may be educating a generation of Christians who pay limited attention to an explicit love for God. Quite recently a friend of mine became quite perplexed during a theology course she was taking from a famous Rahner scholar. The teacher was explaining to the class that we love God in loving other people. She asked him whether we might also directly love God apart from loving people. The scholar said that he had never thought Review for P, eligious much about that. How, I asked myself, could this be? This man regularly says Mass, in which he directly addresses God; he also has, I presume, a good prayer life. But something in our present religious culture kept him from quickly recognizing that he directly relates to God all the time. This example is not isolated. I have gotten into several heated arguments with Christian scholars who deny that we can develop an interpersonal rela-tionship with God. Often they describe our Christian life as a sort of triangle: God's love comes down to us. Our love should not be directed back to God, but rather to our neighbor. Then God accepts that love as if for God's self. Daniel Maguire summarizes this position when he writes, "There can be no vertical love between us and God; we can only get to God horizontally through love of people.''4 As a consequence, some suggest that it is posi-tively un-Christian for us to try to love God directly. When formerly the first great commandment was in the ascendancy, we recognized that not a few saints were hard to live with, but we did not deny that they were saints. Not for nothing did the old quip say that a martyr is someone who has to live with a saint. Through much of the church's history, spiritual writers and theologians taught that the goal of Christian life was a deep love for God. Love for our neighbor was a clear second. Indeed, for St. Augustine, loving our neighbor was valuable only if it flowed from and promoted love for God. For him, we should not love our husband or our children if that love does not lead to love for God. Since Trent, however, a gradual turn has made love for this world--especially for our neighbor and now for our own self-- become the primary focus of love in Christianity. Prayer, then, is valuable if it gives us strength to love our neighbor. Or prayer is important if it helps us to find ourselves and develop our virtue. As a consequence, it has become nearly impossible to think that people could' be praying well if they are lacking in love for their neighbor or in some other virtue. Hence, one often hears the maxim that the true test even of mysticism is whether it leads to love for our neighbor. In other areas of life, we would not allow this slippage. In the case of a man marrying a widow, we would not deny his love for her if he could not muster love for her children. We would, of course, hope that he might come to love his stepchildren. But the true test of his love for her is his love for her, not his love for someone else. March-April 1998 Vacek ¯ Religious Life and the Eclipse of Love for God Emphasis on the Self The newfound emphasis in religious life on the self has been a third source of decline in talk of love for God. In my experience the tidal wave came in about 1963. Almost everywhere concern arose that the uniqueness and the needs of our individual selves were not being adequately taken care of. I remember well how one of my superiors tried to put a stop to this nonsense. He told the preacher of our annual eight-day retreat to focus on why it was not Christian to be concerned for the self. Needless to say, that retreatmaster did not succeed. The tide walls were crumbling, and the emphasis on the self that had been swelling over the cen-turies finally washed onto the mainland of religious life. A few years later almost all resistance had been washed away. Commonly, now, people come into religious life seeking per-sonal fulfillment. Either they find it, or they leave for greener pastures. Their personal happiness is the final criterion of all else. Such people often are very generous; but, according to their own account, they are generous because this brings them happiness. Our culture has deprived us of a way of saying openly that we help others because they need our help. Rather, we must say that we help others because we get so much out of doing it. Love for self has thus become central in our descriptions of everything we do. We even describe our love for God as important because it brings us the ultimate in happiness. Once upon a time Christian spirituality commonly proposed that self-love was sinful or nearly sinful. The Bible rarely, if ever, explicidy commends love for self. In fact, the Bible contains many passages that suggest we ought to forget or deny ourselves. By contrast, in recent years, love for self has perhaps become the first and last great commandment. We hear endlessly repeated the half-truth that we cannot love others, including God, unless we first love ourselves. We are encouraged to love others, includ-ing God, as a way of.achieving our own happiness. Thus, we talk as if love of self is the origin and the goal of all other loves. When this becomes the prevailing cultural context, love for God likely is treated as a "personal preference." That is, if love for God is interesting and worthwhile for a particular person, then that person may pursue it. But love for God is not thought to be essential or necessary for living a full human life. Few people would deny that someone who killed a neighbor has failed to live humanly, and most would say that a husband who does not love Review for Religious his wife and children is failing them. But not many would say that someone who does not love God fails to live in a fully human way. Love for God has become morally optional, to be pursued only to the degree that it fulfills us. Contemporary Catholicism One last reason for setting aside a direct love for God is the experience that many persons in religious life have of the church and of the God proposed by the church. For many, as Schneiders has recently said, the God of Christianity seems too small, too violent, and too male.s One does not readily want to enter into friendship with this God. Again, when the magisterium claims that its views are God's, those who feel abused by the church find it hard to get close to God. Recently these two alienating vectors came together when the Vatican said that the pope teaches infallibly that women cannot be ordained. With the shortcuts in logic that anger allows, a friend of mine concluded: "The Vatican infallibly teaches that God is unjust. So now you know why it is hard to pray to God." As a consequence of these dual alienations, some members of religious communities have given up on the Christian God. Even when people in religious life are more or less adequately centered in love for God, they seldom speak openly about that love. Oddly enough, religious people can be afraid of seeming, well, too religious. Outside of the classroom or the pulpit, many of us are quite slow to talk about God, and even when we do we seldom speak of our experience of God. Again, in the faith shar-ing that we do in our communities, our relationship to God is often unnamed. In religious life we have become more or less comfortable with talking about ourselves and our intracommu-nity dynamics; but we do not often talk about our own religious experiences of God. And spiritual directors sometimes seem less interested in our relationship with God than in our psychological or interpersonal concerns. In my pre-Vatican II novitiate days, we had silence almost the entire day. We were expected to take all that quiet and develop a habit of talking with God. Even then it seemed strange that, while Not for nothing did the old quip say that a martyr is someone who has to live with a saint. March-April 1998 Vacek ¯ Religious Life and the Eclipse of Love for God drinking afternoon coffee, we were not allowed to talk with the people standing next to us. Still, that awkward silence drilled in the point that we should try to talk with God throughout our day. That was then. I had a contrast experience at a retreat I directed for several young men before their ordination. Some of them---not all, by any means---spent their evenings and some of their days in conversation and even partying with one another. Somewhat puzzled, I inquired. I learned that they considered brotherhood far more important than time for prayer alone with God. The conclusion to the first half of these observations of mine is a worry. Ever since the Council of Trent and especially since Vatican II, a trend has been growing. That trend is the collapsing of the first great commandment into the second. Our silence about love for God has begun to be deafening. Love for God and Religious Life In this second half of my remarks, I want to look at a direct love for God. When doing spiritual direction, I am frequently awed by the close re, lationship that many people have with God. On the other hand, I am often both perplexed and distressed by the lack of that kind of relationship in the lives of so many other people, including women and men who have been in religious life for decades. These otherwise good persons may make occa-sional long-distance calls to God, but to them prayer seems like leaving messages on an answering machine in the sky. Intimacy with God is far away, something they no longer hope for and per-haps never did. If asked, they would say, "Oh, yeah, I believe in God." But they assert God's existence with the sort of conviction that one might have in asserting the existence of the planet Mars. It is something they have heard about, something they have no reason not to believe in, but not something that makes much dif-ference in their lives. Central Religious Concepts Every age has its central religious concept. For St. Paul it was faith in God. That concept has lost its teeth today. For Luther the key concept could be thought of as trust. While that still motivates many, it has for Catholics a forensic ring. I suggest that the ques-tion that can genuinely challenge all of us is this: Do you really Review for Religious love God? That question evokes an awareness of the endlessness and inadequacy of our heart's quest as well as the incomprehen-sibility and overwhelming goodness of God. Miguel de Unamuno insisted that our relationship with God must have emotional power. He writes: "Those who say that they believe in God and yet neither love nor fear him do not in fact believe in him but in those who have taught them that God exists. ¯. Those who believe that they believe in God but without any passion in their heart . . . believe only in the God-idea, not in God.''6 Unamuno's point is that many of us have a ten-dency to believe, not in God, but rather in a God-idea. Take, for example, what Unamuno says about fearing God. Since Vatican II we have so succeeded in putting across the idea that God loves us that the long biblical tradition of fear of God has all but disappeared. If, how-ever, we are really encountering God in our prayer, we will at times experience considerable fear and trembling. This fear is not so much a fear that God will punish us. Rather, it is a trembling before an utterly incomprehensible majesty. The concept of a loving God is something we can get cozy with. God is not. We human beings, of course, need good concepts. But we can substitute knowing the right concepts for knowing that to which they point. During my first stay in New York City, I lived in Queens with a priest who regaled me with all the fun things I could do in Manhattan. This went on for two months. One day, however, through an offhand remark he made, I discovered that he had not been to Manhattan for twenty years. He read several newspapers to find out about all the good things going in Manhattan, but he never went there. I fear that, like him, many Christians have many good ideas about God, but they never pay a visit. There has been something too easy about the way many of us changed our idea of God from a pre-Vatican punishing God to a post-Vatican God who unfailingly loves and forgives. It may be that all we have done is change our ideas, without really meeting the God who is Mystery. In the past those saints who seem gen-uinely to have known God indicated that God is experienced sometimes as warmly near but also at other times as wholly dis-tant, sometimes as compassionately forgiving but also at other Our first response is not to return love to God, but rather to let God's love affect or change us. March-April 1998 Vacek * Religious Life and the Eclipse of Love for God times as judging severely, sometimes as attractively good but also at other times terrifyingly awe-ful, and usually as a mixture of each. If we love God, we must love, not the idea of God, but this challenging, supportive, and finally incomprehensible Being. Direct Personal Love for God How does a love relationship with God develop? The first step is one that it seems women understand much more quickly than men. That step is to accept God's love for us. In other words, our first response is not to return love to God, but rather to let God's love affect or change us. The experience of being loved has its own transforming power, and we deny God's influence if we rush to return that love or to spread it among our neighbors. The popu-lar maxim can be repeated here: Don't just do something, stand there! Or better, sit there with your eyes closed and your hands open. So doing, we experience the beginning of our salvation. This acceptance of love is not easy. Not only are most of us a bunch of doers; we are also people who find it hard to receive love and let ourselves be touched by it. Many of us as counselors have spent hours encouraging people to overcome their self-hatred and to learn self-love. They have to learn to accept themselves, but they also have to learn how to "take in" acceptance from others since they expect only rejection or indifference. At times they refuse the sacrament of reconciliation because, at bot-tom, they cannot accept that someone would love them enough to forgive them. Preaching about the grace of acceptance, Paul Tillich said, "It strikes us when our disgust for our own being, our indifference, our weakness, our hostility, and our own lack of direction and composure have become intolerable to us . Sometimes at that moment a wave of light breaks into our darkness, and it is as though a voice were saying: 'You are accepted. You are accepted, accepted by that which is greater than you, and the name of which you do not know.'''7 In such moments we learn that there is some-thing lovable in us. We may not see it, but we accept the love of another whom we want to trust, and in that moment we begin to see the lovableness that God sees in us. After we have allowed God's love to touch us and thereby affirm our own worth and dignity, we want to respond by loving the One who loves us. This love unites us with God. It has both Review for Religious resting and dynamic qualities. That is, our love for God makes us want to be close to God and be at peace when we are close. It will not, though, let us rest for long, but moves us to want to delve ever more into God's goodness. Moreover, that love makes us want to co6perate with God in doing what God wants to do. And that leads us to be involved in redeeming creation. Hence, love for God in one phase moves us into God's infinite incom-prehensibility and in another phase moves us to both cherish the world and want to overcome its ills and injustices. Experience of Love for God One reason for replacing love for God with love for neighbor is that it seems somewhat impossible to love an invisible God. Even when we want to love God, we wonder how we might be sure that we are in fact loving God. These are real questions, but they should not deter us. Similar objections are sometimes raised about our love for fellow human beings. We are tempted to replace love for them with doing good deeds because good deeds are so much more visible than any heart-to-heart connection between spiritual persons. Nevertheless, we know that we do con-nect our invisible core with the core of those 'we love. We may never fully know the inner personhood of our friends, but we know enough to be able to love them. Indeed, our love for them always goes beyond what is visible. Similarly, we are rightly con-fident that we do love people, even if we cannot prove that love. In love, whether of God or of other human beings, or even love of ourselves, there are no sure tests. But within the experience of love we attain confidence that we are loving. What then is it to love God? We might begin by listening to two famous writers who described this love. William James depicted four stages of love for God.8 Our love for God begins with a felt sense, not an intellectual belief, of an Ultimate Power. We feel that we belong to a Sphere of Life that transcends our ordinary day-to-day interests and expands our life. Second, we feel that this Ultimate Power is not distant from us but rather is near to us. We sense that, as Blaise Pascal once observed, the reason we seek God is that God has already found us. Third, we willingly surrender ourselves to this Ultimate. We say yes to God's pres-ence, and we willingly hand ourselves over to God. That is, instead of thinking about God, we fall in love with God. Lastly, our emo- ~Ylarch-April 1998 Vacek ¯ Religious Life and the Eclipse of Love for God 130J tional center shifts towards loving and harmonious affections towards the rest of creation. We tend to say yes rather than no to the world about us. With hearts overflowing, we are freed from our usual tendency to judge or criticize others. Rather, we want to affirm the world as God's world. Moses Maimonides, the great medieval Jewish philosopher, gives a more personal account. He writes that anyone who loves God "is like a lovesick man whose mind is never free from his love for a certain woman and grows in it whether sitting or rising, both when eating and drinking---greater even than this must be the love of God in the heart of his lovers who continually grow more fervent . The whole of the Song of Songs is an allegory on this theme."gMaimonides compares love for.God with the passion that men have for the women they love, only greater. What kind of passion is that? Lovers constantly think of one another, constandy try to please one another. Similarly, those who love God find their minds returning to God whenever there is a lull in their day; they regularly converse with God when they want to talk with some-one; and they periodically dream up ways of doing things that are pleasing to God. Gradually, their attention to God becomes a per-vasive feature of their whole emotional life. Let me put the same point in a slightly different way. If we imagine vividly that some living person we really love has actually died, can we imagine not feeling the loss? Of course not. We might find ourselves, in imagination, being depressed for months and then only gradually .putting our lives back together. Now, imagine that God were to die tonight. If this impossibility could happen, would we desperately miss God? Would we be profoundly sad that God is no longer part of our life? If so, then love for God is central in our lives. When we love God like this, it involves much more than occa-sional prayers tossed towards the heavens. Rather, it becomes deeply rooted in us. It pervades and motivates moments of quiet peace but also moments of furious activity. This love for God becomes the dominant, organizing, emotional center of our whole lives. We meet God in sunsets, in the Bible, in the Eucharist, in friends who call to ask how we are doing, in the homeless man who lies under cardboard begging for a quarter. These encounters with God in the world depend upon other times when our rela-tionship to God is not so mediated. Then we are more like Moses who used to talk with God "face-to-face, as one speaks to a Review for Religio~ts friend" (Ex 33:11). Without this face-to-face talk, we are in dan-ger of becoming like those parents who devote themselves com-pletely to their children, only to realize one day that they no longer love one another as husband and wife. Since Vatican II we in religious life have worked hard to develop a spirituality of finding God in our service of people in the world. (And more needs to be done.) But in the process the explic-itly "God and me" and "God and us" aspects of our spirituality have often been neglected. The phrase "Jesus and I" has become a term of derision. Rather, we need not only Jesus' second great commandment--loving our neighbor as ourselves--but also Jesus' first great commandment: loving God with our whole mind and heart and soul and strength. We need as well the connection between these two. That connection appears chiefly when we sense ourselves to be acting with God, to be God's partners. Friendship con-sciously grows when friends do things chiefly because they are friends. The same is true in our relationship with God. We want to do things with God as a way of being friends of God. Love for God, of course, is not a once-and-for-all sort of affection. There may be periods of rapid and intense growth. Then come periods when we just maintain our relationship. The quiet periods prepare the way for a deeper relationship that we cannot force, but which we can hope for. Gradually this love more and more informs who we are. We begin, so to speak, to check in with God about everything we do. Most of us would criticize a husband who accepted a job in another city without first dis-cussing the move with his wife. But not all of us, when asked to do a new job, would quickly ask ourselves how this new task would affect our relationship with God. Deep lovers of God sponta-neously ask that question. Doubtless, we have to "work" at this relationship with God. We know that loves can be false,/and we know that we can deceive ourselves. Still, the idea of testing love is foreign to the experience of loving. We have no need of "tests" when we find ourselves wanting to spend time with God or still moved .by God's word spoken to us. Then, with the reality of our relationship assured, Those who love God find their minds returning to God whenever there is a lull in their day. L13-I -- March-April 1998 Vacek * Religious Life and the Eclipse of Love for God all we need examine regularly is its quality. We use our examen of consciousness to become more attentive to God's graciousness to us and to learn how to co.operate better in God's work. Love for God, like any great love, has a certain relativizing quality. We evaluate other things in the light of this great love. On the one hand, worldly goods become more valuable as God's crea-tures and as gifts we recognize as coming from God. On the other hand, these creatures no longer dominate our consciousness. Not only wealth, success, power, but also more personal things like the development of our talents, devotion to our friends, and even our own happiness take a subordinate place. In Ignatian language, we personally value them when they support our relationship with God; and we set them aside when they do not. Finally, anyone who has been in love with another human being knows that there is a quiet satisfaction whenever we make sacrifices for the one we love and a deep pleasure when we make extravagant gestures on behalf of our love. We spend all night in the hospital at the bedside of our beloved, and we want to do so. We sell our precious gold watch to buy a set of combs for our beloved's wonderful hair. Similarly, love for God leads all of us to make sacrifices such as fasting and to engage in extravagant ges-tures such as liturgy, and do all with joy. Kinds of Love Let me now describe three different forms of this love for God, and then I will try to relate them to religious life. I call them agape, eros, and pbilia. Normally we have these three all mixed together, but I want to name them because each at times has a separate claim on us. Agape, as I use the term, means to love something for its own sake. So, with an agapic love for God, we love God for God's own sake and are not concerned for our own benefit. There is an extremely provocative and stark question that illustrates this kind of love: If it would please God just a bit, would you be willing to suffer in hell forever? This question was put to those who wanted to become Calvinist divines. St. Francis de Sales put this question to himself. The question clarifies very quickly whether we love God for our sake or for God's sake. Agape is represented by the cross of Christ. That cross indi-cates that we may have to give up our lives in order to be faith- Review for Religious ful to God. An agapic love for God is essential to religious life. Our vows express a willingness to give up family, wealth, and free-dom as an expression of our agapic devotion to God. Needless to say, none of us ever achieves that complete devotion, but the vows indicate our willingness to do so. Second, eros. Those of us who resist the Calvinist question I just asked will be relieved to know that the Catholic Church con-demns the teaching that we must have only an agapic love for God. Rather, we may also have an eros relationship with God. Some of us will remember the act of contrition we once said when we went to confession. We prayed that we were heartily sorry for our sins because we dreaded the loss of heaven and the pains of hell, but most of all because they offended God. Our sorrow about offending God was an expression of agape. Our dread about los-ing God and going to hell was an expression of eros. Eros means loving someone rather much for our own sake. An eros love for God is a genuine love. It is a biblical love, and it is quite Catholic. We love God for the good we gain in being close to God. Since we can never be completely fulfilled by creatures, we will always be inclined to have this sort of love for God. Our religious vows say that we will not seek for completion in family, in wealth, or in independent control of our lives. Doubtless, we may in fact find more completion in our friendships than many married people do in their spouses; doubtless, almost all of us have access to more wealth than most of the world's population; and doubtless, each of us has considerable independence and sta-tus. But, if we are true to our religious commitment, we seek completion in none of these, but chiefly and finally in God. Thus an eros love for God is essential to religious life: we are people who point to an eschatological fulfillment in God. Third, we have a philia love when we love God for the sake of the covenant we share with God. Our Jewish ancestors formed covenants with God, and through baptism we Christians form a new covenant with God. We are God's people, and God is not just the God of creation but also our God. This covenant, when founded on love, can be imaged as a sort of friendship. Through this friendship with God, we share life with God. We are con-cerned about the things of God and God is concerned about our things, and both are concerned for the friendship itself. Because of this friendship we Christians do religious things like sing in church. The difference between ourselves and unbelievers is not ~/larch-April 1998 Vacek ¯ Reli~ous Life and the Ech'pse of Love for God only that we do such specifically religious activities, but also that we want to make all our activities be part of our relationship to God. Thus, we want God to rest with us at the seashore and to ladle soup through us at the local homeless shelter. A philia love for God is central in religious life. We want this friendship to be the first thing that comes to mind in the morn-ing and the last thing at night. Just as married persons want to call home when they are away at a convention, so we want to check in with God throughout the day: Religious life makes little sense without this friendship with God. Indeed, as I shall next suggest, religious life symbolizes this relatively unmediated friendship. Religious Life Could the church survive without religious life? Of course it could. Judaism covenanted with God without religious-life com-munities. So did the very early church, and so do many contem-porary Protestant churches. If all communities of religious were suppressed tomorrow, the church would go on. But in a church such as ours---a sacramental church with such diversity of gifts in its members---religious life in one form or another is almost inevitable. Indeed, a case could be made that religious life should someday be recognized, like marriage, as a sacrament because of what it adds to the church and world. What thin does it add? One answer might be that religious communities provide a place for a lot of kooky people, and that answer would not be too far wrong. The normal pattern for human beings is to marry, gain some security through property, and make significant decisions for themselves. When people are forbidden to marry, are deprived of property, or have their own important decisions made for them by others, we protest the violation of their basic human rights. We assert that these are basic goods needed for human fulfill-ment. Some people, however, although they are as psychologi-cally healthy as other people, have a peculiar passion to devote their lives to developing a relationship with God, a passion that relativizes their need to fulfill themselves through these basic human goods and makes it somewhat easy to set them aside. Such people may not be specially gifted at developing this relationship with God. Still, they are strongly attracted to try to do so through a life set apart to foster this devotion. They are like artists who just have to step out of the mainstream to pursue Review for Religious their passion. Further, they are attracted to other people who share this same passion. They are like the eggheads who gather at universities with others of similar intellectual bent because they feel at home with such heady people. Religious life, then, is a life shared by people who have a sometimes consuming passion for developing a relationship with God and who are willing to struc-ture their lives to ensure that this passion be fostered above all others. The church officially structures this form of life in order to publicly symbolize both to its members and to the world at large this desire for friendship with God. Obviously, few of us religious are dedicated exclusively to God. Indeed, it would be wrong to do so, since we should also be dedicated to the betterment of the world. Perhaps obviously, too, many married and single persons have developed a relationship to God that puts us to shame. But people do not ordinarily get mar-ried or stay single in order to pursue a passion for God. These two life patterns are not publicly structured to foster a passion for God, and such passion is not essential to their meaning. People do, however, enter religious life because of the pull of this very pas-sion. They join other people who, because of a similar passion, have left all to follow Christ. Without this love, their life pattern lacks its basic meaning. Accordingly, just as a married man fails if he does not love his wife, so too communities of religious women and men fail if they do not live explicitly and publicly--not just implicitly and consequentia!ly--from and for this primary relationship to God. Each pattern of life symbolizes different and essential Christian tasks. Marriage symbolizes Jesus' second great commandment, and religious life symbolizes the first. Both are necessary; and so, in the living of those respective vocations, the lines reverse. Married people must come to love God in and through their spouse, and persons in religious life must come to love their neigh-bor in and through God. Jesus was a man with a passion for God. Put a little more ele-gantly, Jesus was filled with God's Spirit. At the beginning of his public life, that Spirit led him out into a desert, away from peo-ple. That Spirit sometimes led him to leave his preaching and healing in order to be alone with God. That Spirit enabled him to go up to Jerusalem, thereby forgoing years.of ministry, in order to remain faithful to his Abba, even unto death on the cross. Ministry was not the center of his life, but only the consequence March-April 1998 Vacek ¯ Religious Life and the Eclipse of Love for God of living out of that center. The center of his life was his rela-tionship with his Abba. I said at the outset that religious life may be in danger of los-ing its soul. Perhaps now, at the end of my remarks, my inflam-matory language can be better understood and properly contextualized. Religious life, as I understand it, is directed essen-tially to an immediate love relationship with God. It is directed to the God who, to be sure, may be found and cherished in all things. But, more primordially, it is directed to the God who has a life and personhood that utterly transcend this world. Religious life points to this transcendent God by being a life that, without this rela-tionship to God, does not make sense. Indeed, as Karl Rahner argued, it would be immoral to choose this way of life without this relationship to God.1° The various works we do, for example, helping the poor or teaching children, in fact make a lot of sense quite apart from a relationship to God. These works may not be particularly attractive, but the sheer fact of human dignity makes them meaningful, even to atheists. Thus, even when we are engaged heart and soul in these works, our life must also offer something more. We must offer the crucially needed public wit-ness that this world is not all there is. Rather, belonging to the God who is beyond all creatures is the final meaning of life. We at times forget this important witness. Sometimes I put a question to men and women religious: Where is the kingdom of God to be found? In recent years they usually answer with the biblical text that the kingdom of God is within or in our midst (Lk 17:20-21). However, when the New Testament answers this ques-tion about the kingdom of God, it usually says that the kingdom of God is in some time and place other than this one.1~ In other words, it is chiefly .eschatological. Sometimes, too, I inquire about the meaning of the religious vows in our day. Contemporary men and women religious tend to praise the vows for giving us greater availability for this-worldly service. It is true that, for most of us most of the time, the vows do just this. But this view is incomplete for at least two reasons. First, there will be times when one or another vow will in fact prevent us from helping those who need love or material goods or our independent commitment. Second, other people without our vows often do greater works than we. Indeed, they sometimes do so because they have a spouse to help them or possessions to give away or the independence to change their commitments. Thus, Review for Religious our vows usually will help our ministry, but they do not always do so and, more importantly, that is not their primary meaning. Our vows have meaning on a different plane. Again, religious life has an eschatological quality. It is this quality that finally makes sense of the ascetic, other-worldly character of our religious vows. These vows point to the God who lives in unapproachable light, and these vows give witness to the Christian possibility of friend-ship with this incomprehensible God. I have suggested that since Vatican II there has occurred what I call an eclipse of love for God, an eclipse that has cast its shadow not only over the secular world, but over religious life as well. I have also urged that we step out of this shadow and live once again in the strong and direct sunlight of a friendship with God. Indeed, if we bask in the light and warmth of this Sun, not only may religious life attract new members, but it will have a soul that is fully alive and thus is the glory of God. Notes t Washington: Georgetown University Press, 1994. 2 U.S. Catholic 62, no. 10 (October 1997): 19. 3 Sandra Schneiders IHM, "Congregational Leadership and Spirituality in the Postmodern Era" (an address to the Leadership Conference of Women Religious, 23 August 1997), in Review For Religious 57, no. 1 (January-February 1998): 22. 4 Daniel Maguire, The Moral Core of Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993), p. 221. s Schneiders, "Congregational Leadership," p. 21. 6 Miguel de Unamuno, The Tragic Sense of Life, trans. J.E. Crawford Flitch (New York: Dover, 1954), p. 193. 7 Paul Tillich, Shaking of the Foundations (New York: Scribner's, 1948), p. 162. 8 William James, Varieties of Religious Experience (New Hyde Park, N.Y.: University Books, 1963), pp. 272-300. 9 Moses Maimonides, "Yad, Teshubah" (X, I-3), in The Teachings of Maimonides, ed. Abraham Cohen (New York: KTAV Publishing House, 1968), pp. 113-114. t0 Karl Rahner SJ "Reflections on a Theology of Renunciation," Theological Investigations, vol. 3 (New York: Crossroad, 1982), pp. 47-57. it E.P. Sanders, The Historical Figure of Jesus (London: Penguin, 1993), p. 176. ~larcb-April 1998 SIDNEY CALLAHAN A Witness of Unique Witnessing Recently I was invited to speak to a conference of male and female religious. My charge was to reflect upon the unique identity of the religious vocation and comment upon the prospects of religious life in a complex, pluralistic society--in particular, will the current intellectual trends toward fragmented postmodo ernist thinking be a devastating challenge for religious vocations? This assignment was a new challenge for me since heretofore I as a laywoman had never focused much attention on the men and women presently pursuing a vocation of voluntary poverty, celibacy, and obedience to a rule. Most of my concerns in the church have heretofore been focused on larger issues of faith and authority as related to women, sexuality, family, and ethics. To fulfill my assignment I had to read furiously in the huge lit-erature devoted to postmodernist thought, and then I had to find out how other observers analyze what is going on within reli-gious orders in the waning of our millennium. After reflecting upon the troubling challenges, I also wanted to give the group my outsider's perspectives on the positive achievements of reli-gious life. First, it must be admitted that postmodernism, however dif-ficult it is to define, is a confusing and widespread intellectual movement of our time. And the least acquaintance with this trend, in whatever field it is encountered, can assure a person that, yes, Sidney Callahan .participated in the October 1997 symposium at Wernersville, Pennsylvania, on Religious Life's Unique Witness. Here she offers an expanded revision of her Commonweal article of 5 December 1997: "Nunsuch? Reviving Religious Communities." She may be addressed at Hudson House, Box 260; Ardsley-on-Hudson, New York 10503. Review for Religqous this wave of skepticism about knowledge or universal truths will make traditional faith and the religious vocation even more dif-ficult to pursue. In its strongest forms postmodernist thought asserts that no universal reality exists or can be known. Older modernist asser-tions in Western thought that rational and scientific methods can produce knowledge are thrown out as inadmissible. Worse still, there is nothing much to be explored besides the various "lan-guage games" that people learn to use in their own specific cultures. In postmod-ernist thought, it is language and culture that construct reality, and so biology and science are discounted. Human beings are trapped in their own time and culture, and so no meaningful universal truth claims can be trusted. Postmodernism pushes its adher-ents, who mostly populate elite academic literature departments, into a moral rela-tivism and suspicion of affirmations of truth, including, of course, religious truth. Unfortunately, the existence of a self, or human nature, is also believed to be con-structed by language and culture, so any and all self-identities must be tentative and temporary. True moral agency, or the pos-sibility of permanent commitments and promise making or promise keeping, disappears. While this modern reincarnation of radical skepticism may puncture claims of antireligious secular orthodoxies, it does believers little good. In the general darkness of uncertainty and ambiguity, there may be some room for silence and mystery, and there may be opportunities for hearing new voices from below, but the overall effect of the new worldview is still a negative one for all believers in a self-disclosing God of truth and love. Happily, the postmodernist movement is, I think, not going to last much longer, much less triumph among our academic intel-lectual elites. Skepticism eventually self-destructs, since it asserts that there can be little point in intellectual inquiry or argument. Recently many scientific and intellectual countermovements can be seen surging back toward a critical realism which affirms that a common human nature exists and that, yes, certain moral truths can be known with at least virtual certainty. Interestingly enough, The overall effect of the new worldview is still a negative one for all believers in a self-disclosing God of truth and love. ~/larcb-April 1998 Callahan ¯ A Witness of Unique Witnessing --!:40J some feminist philosophers have been quick to see that, if noth-ing is morally true beyond a culture's boundaries, then feminists can have no foundation for their efforts toward the liberation of women from oppression. But in the meantime a creeping cultural fog of doubt, skep-ticism, and moral relativism moves down into the popular cul-ture and makes dealing with modern young people difficult. Many teachers report that their students find themselves unable to affirm that even the Nazi genocide was really, truly, morally wrong. Tentativism, skeptical detachment, and seeing life as consisting of senseless fragments take over the popular mind. In such an intellectual climate, any faith, especially the faith needed for a religious vocation, faces a problem of commitment. As it is for the church at large, the end of the millennium is a rather unset-tled ¯ time for vowed religious. Why so? And what can be done about it? Here too there is no shortage of articles on why the numbers of new vocations to religious orders are declining and why so many vowed religious left their orders after the Second Vatican Council. Certainly some perspective on the present can be gained by looking at the changes in religious life over the cen-turies. I received an eye-opening view of the history of religious orders by reading Jo Ann Kay McNamara's Sisters in Arms: Catholic Nuns Through Two Millennia. Throughout the last two thousand years, the forms of reli-gious life in the church have constantly evolved--along with their being by turns accepted and persecuted by people outside and inside the church. As historical conditions altered and Christianity spread, religious life adapted to various circumstances and cul-tures. New orders were founded and still are being founded, and new ministries were, and are, constantly undertaken. It does not take much acumen to conclude that present developments, how-ever turbulent, may be one more transitional phase. Today the major challenge for vowed religious involves the assimilation of Vatican II's teachings and reforms. If now, for instance, religious life is no longer theologically exalted above other states of life in the church and, in particular, is no longer judged a more perfect way to holiness, a way superior to mar-riage, then why make the sacrifices involved? If, in addition, laypersons can fulfill all the ministries within the church and in the world that vowed religious used to perform, why join a religious community to serve God and neighbor? Review for Religious Some writers analyzing religious life today see what is hap-pening as a necessary purification: the vowed religious life is being purged of temptations to pride and comfort that its revered sta-res as "a vocation" once occasioned. Now there is no more mys-tique, and no more lifelong security complete with an assured slot in some fully staffed religious institution. The professional-ization of many jobs in hospitals, colleges, and social agencies has meant the need for secular credentials. Religious cannot auto-matically count on ministries that give them a sense of fulfillment or on having access to the economic resources needed to support their communities. Parishes love to have a generic "sister" toiling in their vineyard, but appear less willing to pay her a living wage. For theologian Sandra Schneiders, contemporary religious life is being stripped to its essential meaning. Without any of the old privileges, reli-gious must recognize once again the "naked God-quest in the center of their hearts," which makes an "exclusive and total demand upon them in consecrated celibacy, voluntary poverty, community, and corporate mission" (Schneiders, p. 518). Present declines in numbers or disturbances in morale may be a painful transforming process, similar to the suffering of a dark night of the soul; such a dying may be neces-sary for new life to emerge, perhaps in new forms. Yet fidelity to the God-quest must be maintained and can have its own benefi-cial effects for the church. Agreed. As a married layperson I can affirm the witness of the religious vocation for strengthening the rest of the faithful community in a confusing time. Yes, the life of holiness seems to be much the same whatever the path taken toward the goal; either laypersons or religious end up with a family resemblance to Christ. Yet lay and religious vocations are different. I view vowed religious vocations as a condensed, crystallized, intensely focused, institu-tionalized, corporate embodiment of every Christian's call to love God and one's neighbor wholeheartedly. The totality of the life commitment of a religious vocation and the personal sacrifices entailed give testimony to the fact that God's kingdom exists beyond time and space, beyond what we Parishes love to have a generic "sister" toiling in their vineyard, but appear less willing to pay her a living wage. March-April 1998 Callahan * A Witness of Unique VVitnessing can see and touch or recognize as commonsense strivings. Vowed religious directly imitate Christ's life of public ministry, an ascetic life undertaken for the sake of the whole church as a corporate communion. The Roman Catholic Church, in the words of Sebastian Moore, can be acknowledged as the only "world-wide and world-old institution dedicated to changing the world." Religious give their all to a ministry of worship and loving service to the world. Today, in our disordered complicated society, we need good corporate institutions to work toward justice and human flour-ishing. American individualists are rather blind to the importance of struggling for good institutions and social realities. Only orga-nized communities can use their collective synergy to fight against the structural oppressions and powers of "social sin." The the-ologian Walter Wink has interpreted St. Paul's references to fight-ing against "powers and principalities" as the struggle against those larger social structures and forces that unjustly oppress peo-ple. Christians must fight against these powers, against such social structures as unfair economic markets, or racial and sexual prej-udices, or exploitations of the poor, or entrenched ignorance, or rampant consumerism peddled by the all-encompassing media. Social systems harm innocent people and the earth's environment. Such structural entities have enormous power, and they usually operate beyond the control of even good individuals caught up within the system. Religious orders can use their corporate strength arising from their collective commitment to work for the conversion and transformation of the world. Vowed celibacy is crucial to the religious vocation. Erotic energy dedicated to loving God within the community and focused upon the corporate mission can be incredibly potent and fruit-ful. Celibacy does not repudiate sexuality, but rather affirms the values of friendship and the worth of embodied lives beyond sex-ual reproduction orreplication of one's genes. Religious orders do replicate themselves in their spiritual children, who join because they agree with the goals of the religious family. In genetic par-enting and family life, children do not always agree with their parents' commitments. Religious life attests to the good news that in the kingdom gender roles become subservient to personal identity since in Christ there is neither male nor female. This affirmation of per-sonhood, friendship, and work beyond gendered conventions has Review for Religious been particularly important for women's self-esteem and flour-ishing. The history of women's religious orders is replete with instances of women who went against their culture and were able to assume leadership roles that use their talents in original ways. Moreover, if sexual reproduction, sexual fulfillment, and mat-ing no longer are the only human ways to validate bodily exis-tence, then human beings who do not mate and reproduce--babies, the young, the old, the ill, the handicapped--are symbolically affirmed as valuable members of the human family. I see vowed celibacy as an incest tabu adopted in order to count everyone as one's family and kin. A no to one mate and sexual pair-bonding flees persons to love more inclusively. The risks undertaken and the permanent vows that religious make also help to strengthen the permanent vows of married persons. Marriage and family life are definitely schools of love, but to be true to family claims most persons are limited in what they can give to the larger church and civic community. There is only so much time, money, and energy available in one life. There are also limits to the suf-fering and sacrifices that a person can justifiably ask of a spouse or the dependent members of the family. To love is to suffer with others, and this happens in every state of life, but religious can be freer to suffer more. They can spend themselves more daringly for the coming of the kingdom in the larger community. The cor-porate support of their religious brothers and sisters can sustain them in enterprises beyond the capabilities of individuals or of most families. It is no accident that the majority of modern Christian martyrs have been vowed religious serving as mission-aries in dangerous territories. Voluntary poverty in the religious vocation also serves as a wit-ness against the greed and love of money ingrained in our materi-alistic consumer culture. Corporate religious groups can be more free to operate by the rule of just care: from each according to his or her gifts and to each according to individual need. Religious orders can struggle for justice more freely when all of their mem-bers are committed to the same ideals of love and charity--and are willing to pay the price to deploy their forces. Often Christians I see vowed celibacy as an incest tabu adopted in order to count everyone as one's family and kin. March-April 1998 Callaban ¯ A Witness of Unique Witnessing must voluntarily take on morally necessary suffering in order to heal, to do the works of mercy, or to end oppression. Religious who obey community authority for the sake of their vocation witness to the existence of the authority of God's truth as well as to the importance of persevering in an intentional com-munity. Ideals of authority are in ill repute, but are no less nec-essary to common endeavors for all that. Unfortunately, our culture worships individual liberty, autonomy, control, and lives of hyperprivacy. A permanent commitment to communal life beyond mate and family is a startling countercultural witness. Such staunch commitment to social cohesion also helps give civic society backbone, providing corporate groups that can medi-ate or stand between individuals and the state. The new label for the existence of enduring social ties of interdependency is "social capital." Who in a community can count on what ties and what sources of help when needed? A civil society and a civilization depend upon these invisible but powerful connections. Religious orders generate all kinds of social capital for the kingdom along with their dedication to God. The corporate wit-ness of an order with its customs, traditions, and rituals builds up energy and esprit to act effectively against obstacles. So, in the course of religious i'enewal today, we find religious orders reemphasizing their corporate identities, refocusing on their dis-tinct ministries, reinstating collective commitment rituals, and recognizing their need for common worship, common symbols, and a common life. The love and support of one's brothers and sis-ters make the religious vocation possible--and powerful. A group commitment strengthens individuals. Religious faith may be more risky today for everyone. I do not think that the risk arises from conflicts between belief and natural science as was true in the 19th century. But social and psychological disci-plines, and postmodern intellectual currents, can be challenging by making persons doubt their own religious experiences. Collective experiences of worship ~and community experiences of work and love can ground religious experiences as well as give witness to the world. To use a phrase stolen from Paul Ricoeur, I would say that what religious life can produce today is "the intelligibility of hope" for the church. New creative forms may be evolving, but they will come about not by legislated commands from higher church hierarchies, but from faithful listening to the Holy Spirit. God Review for Religious is a God of surprises, so we cannot know how the next millennium will play itself out. But I am quite sure that the church will con-tinue to be blessed with the survival and revival of religious voca-tions, thanks be to God. Selected Sources Albert Borgmann. Crossing the Postmodern Divide. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992. Joseph J. Feeney sJ. "Can a Worldview Be Healed? Students and Postmodernism." America 177, no. 15 (15 November 1997): 12-16. Jo Ann Kay McNamara. Sisters in Arms: Catholic Nuns through Two Millennia. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1996. Thomas Guarino. "Postmodernity and Five Fundamental Theological Issues." Theological Studies 57, no. 4 (December 1996): 654-689. Sandra M. Schneiders IHM. "Contemporary Religious Life: Death or Transformation?" Crosscurrents (Winter 1996-1997): 510-535. Personal Interpretation In sleep-warped nights of dreams and hauntings, L to satisfy my pride, my lust, my greed, had made a god in image of my need. Light dawned, but false, beneath a man-made sky. Then I felt more: some Thing, some One - Benign; not There, but Here - Beside. I came to part unpracticed lips and dry unyielding heart: I brought myself to pray, to ask a sign. Enough to shake my disbelief, there then occurred events beyond all chance that still offend my rationality, my will. Reluctant, though, I start to doubt again. That sign, so clear, at mercy of my wit: how will I choose to now interpret it? Stephen Eric Smyth FMS March-April 1998 DORIS GOTTEMOELLER Religious Life: Where Does It Fit in Today's Church? l/lA " t I say in this article is as much about the church as it ¥ ¥ is about religious life. Stated more fully, my question is: What is the place, the distinctive identity and function, of religious life in the church today? What is unique about this vocation in our post-Vatican II church? What witness and service do religious offer that other members of the church do not offer? Or, more colloquially, what is the point of being a religious sister or brother today?~ To throw some light here is also to illuminate the nature of the church itself in our post-Vatican II understanding. We can approach our question in three parts, dealing with (1) the origin of the question, (2) the significance of the question, and (3) some suggestions for a response. Origin of the Question First of all, where does this question come from? A few dozen years ago, before the Second Vatican Council, the status and role of religious were well known. Their status was characterized as a way of perfection, and their role was to devote themselves to min-istries such as prayer (in contemplative orders, more or less full-time) and teaching, nursing, and caring for orphans and the elderly. Their state of life contrasted with two other available options, the lay and clerical states. Doris Gottemoeller RSM, president of the Sisters of Mercy of the Americas, last appeared in our journal in January-February 1996. Her address is 8300 Colesville Road #300; Silver Spring, Maryland 20910. Review for Religious An implicit hierarchy seen in these states had the laity at the bottom and the clergy at the top. It was better to be a religious than to be a layperson, and even better to be a priest. (So if a lit-tle boy confided to his teacher that he was interested in becom-ing a brother, she was apt to say, "Why don't you go all the way and become a priest?") What has changed, so that the question of meaning and purpose has become so urgent? First, the council, in its Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Lumen gentium, "flattened out" this hierarchy of states by affirming the fundamental equality of all Christians, rooted in baptism. "All the faithful of Christ of whatever rank or status are called to the fullness of the Christian life and to the perfection of charity," and "all of Christ's followers [are] invited and bound to pursue holiness and the perfect fulfillment of their proper state.''2 Only later did many begin to ask a bothersome question: If it is not better, that is, more perfect, to be a religious than a layper-son, why make the sacrifice inherent in a lifetime commitment to the vows? The council also triggered a proliferation of ministries, as the faithful were called in a new way to be responsible for the mission of the church. The closing exhortation of the Decree on the Apostolate of the Laity, Apostolicam actuositatem, calls on all the laity to be coworkers with Christ in the various forms and meth-ods of the church's one apostolate. Formerly, the apostolate of the laity was described as a participation in the apostolate of the hierarchy; now the laity were called to the apostolate in their own name, in union with the whole church. The gradual adoption of the word ministry, often used in the plural, spoke to a new sense of a myriad of liturgical, catechetical, and pastoral works in which church members were called to engage, whether on an occasional, part-time, or full-time basis. Amidst this plurality of ministries, the restoration of the lay diaconate introduced a group of persons whose role is still not clearly differentiated from other roles. A recent national study of the permanent diaconate reports: "In their written-in comments more than a few deacons complained that they are too often thought to be either 'incomplete priests' or 'more advanced laity.'''3 Many deacons wonder whether ordination is necessary for what they do, and the majority of lay leaders surveyed indi-cated they do not think that ordination is necessary for the min-istries performed by deacons in their parishes. We could also ~larch-ApH11998 Gottemoeller * Religious Life: Where Does It Fit? point out that the typical deacon's education and spiritual and pi'ofessional preparation for ministry are less than that of the reli-gious with whom he serves on the same parish staff--and yet he is empowered to preach, to serve at the altar during liturgy, and to a~dminister some sacraments. Of all these ministries, it is difficult to identify religious with any specific one. Teachers in parochial schools and in Christian-doctrine (CCD) programs, nurses in hospitals, workers in child-care, eldercare, and special care institutions of all kinds are overwhelmingly lay people. Some religious continue to minister in these settirigs, but others are in a wide variety of other venues: prisons, homeless shelters, social-welfare agencies, housing pro-jects, parishes, dioceses, retreat centers, justice offices, congre-gational headquarters, and so forth. Not all of these settings are affiliated with the individual's congregation or, indeed, with the Catholic Church. The causes of this ministerial diffusion are complex and not all within the control of religious congregations. Among other factors in play is the law of supply and demand. Religious are not needed in some ministries for which others are very well qualified. Religious cannot afford to offer their services gratis, and their seniority makes them too expensive to hire. Institutions that were once the employer of last resort for religious have closed or cannot employ persons without specific creden-tials. The government has assumed greater responsibility for some works for which religious were once responsible. Professional credentialing has put some ministries beyond the reach of some religious. And so forth. There is no end of opportunities for vol-unteers in the typical parish or institution, but volunteer (that is, nonremunerated) serviICe is not really a viable option for many of a congregation's members. One of the common venues for ministry is the parish (not the parish school, but the parish itself), a fact that contributes to the phenomenon known as the parochialization of religious life. As qualified lay teachers became available in years past, they began to replace sisters in the classroom. At the same time, parishes looked to sisters to fill roles for which they were deemed uniquely qualified, especially the religious education of children and adults and a variety of other pastoral services such as outreach to the elderly and homebound, music ministry, and liturgy preparation. Then, as the number of the clergy declined and the number of Review for Religious parishes with a single priest grew, pastors looked to sisters to move into the new roles of pastoral associate and even pastoral administrator (in priestless parishes). An unforeseen effect of this parochial assimilation is that the typical parish has little or no sense of the distinctive charism of each religious congregation, no sense of the congregational mission or spirituality that sup-ports "their" sister. If this development moves to its logical conclusion, women religious might come to be regarded as generic church workers, inter-changeable parish functionaries. Such parochial assimilation also blurs the dis-tinction between clerical and religious identity. Of course, everyone knows that pi'iests can celebrate Mass and religious cannot. But the popular confu-sion about the two vocations is indicated by ques-tions such as the following which I get from tlffie to time: If the pope allows priests to marry, do you think sisters will get married too? Such a questioner has no idea of the distinction between the vocation of a diocesan priest and that of a religious, and no idea that religious life is a way of life in which celibacy is an integral component. Many people assume that we religious observe celibacy as a sort of price for working in the church rather than as the heart of our religious commitment. By way of an aside, we could note that th~ question of priesdy identity and mission in today's church would be a parallel area of investigation. Since the theologies of both the priesthood and religious life are rooted in ecclesiology, there is a relationship between the concepts of both of them. One recent study identi-fied four historically significant theologies of the. priesthood and their corresponding theologies of religious life.4 These theolo-gies differ from one another in their vision of spiritual ideals, of appropriate relationship to a local church, 6f mission focus, and so forth. Clerical religious institutes represent a further permu-tation of the issues. To summarize this first part, we can say that the question of the contemporary meaning and significance of religious life arises on the theoretical side because of the emphasis of Vatican II on the role of the laity in light of the universal call to'holiness, and on the practical side because of the changing ministerial roles of reli- Professional credentialing has put some ministries beyond the reach of some religious. March-April 1998 Gottemoeller ¯ Religious Life: Where Does It Fit? | gious (including their insertion into parochial roles). Finally, the diminishing number of religious reduces their visibility and makes it even more difficult to discover who they are and what they are about. From a congregational perspective, this diminishment makes it more imperative than ever for religious to assert their dis-tinctive identity and to focus their energy and resources in a clear direction--which leads to the issue of significance. Significance of the Question What difference does it make if there is no clear or commonly held answer to what the meaning and purpose of religious life today is. The most obvious answer is that it makes it very difficult, even impossible, to invite, young men and women to consider reli-gious life as a personal option. The Religious Life Futures Project highlighted the problem in its Executive Summary: "The most compelling result of the study indicates that a significant per-centage of religious no longer understand their role and function in the church. This lack of clarity can result in lowered self-con-fidence, a sense of futility, greater propensity to leave religious life, and significant anxiety. The younger religious experience the least clarity, and, among these, women religious experience less clarity than their male counterparts . For both women and men religious, Vatican II substantially reinforced the role of laity in the church, but did not clarify for religious the unique contri-bution of their vocation.''s Other contemporary writers have highlighted the same prob-lem. Sociologist Patricia Wittberg SC speaks of the collapse of the old ideological framework for religious life after the council. By means of a review and analysis of the articles which appeared in Review for Religious over a thirty-year period, she demon-strates how the old definition of religious life as a state of per-fection or privileged way to holiness was discarded and the traditional understanding of the vows and community life eroded or replaced. At the same time a new, internally consistent alter-native definition was proposed by theologians and writers, namely, religious life as prophetic witness. She suggests, however, that structural changes in the daily lifestyle of religious prevented the new definition from being established on a corporate basis. "Nor was the new ideology upheld with the same unanimity as the old had been, for religious communities had deprived themselves of Review for Religious some of the very communal commitment mechanisms that might have reinforced their new beliefs.''6 In other words, we had so reshaped our understandings of obedience, of community, of min-istry, and so forth as to make it impossible to hold one another to any accountability for common practices. Wittberg adds, "Individual religious were defined as those who live their bap-tismal call in the vowed life--but these vows were either inade-quately defined or else defined in such a way as to apply indiscriminately to all Christians. 'The dominant language of reli-gious life . . . shifted from theological constructs to social and psychological paradigms' that were inadequate to explain what was distinct or desirable about the lifestyle.''7 This is quite a sig-nificant observation from a sociologist! As evidence of our lack of a clear sense of our corporate mean-ing and purpose, Wittberg cites some examples of self-defeating patterns of operation: 1. Statements of mission or charism that are vague and gen-eral enough to include all the various interests in a con-gregation. 2. Difficulty in making choices, particularly in the area of long-term planning, because there is no deeply shared vision on which to base these choices. 3. An emphasis on the personal growth and development of the members, as well as a tendency to interpret commu-nity in terms of the needs of the members, work as an indi-vidual project, and spirituality as a private concern. 4. The near impossibility of sustaining corporate commit-ments, s I doubt that there are many religious today who do not recog-nize at least some of this analysis as touching on their own expe-rience. In terms of ministry, the lack of a simple and single answer to the question of what religious do is a cause of confusion and crit-icism among some of the laity. To give one example: the March 1997 issue of Religious Life, a newsletter or journal published by the Institute on Religious Life in Chicago, carried an article tided "Nuns and the Common Good," by Anne Stewart Connell. In it she excoriates "sisters who maintain they are still 'sisters' yet have leaped over convent walls and taken 'administrative' jobs in the church in preference to teaching children" as perpetuating a "gross injustice" in the church. In her words, these sisters are "corrupt-ing" the "bona fide religious who have nowhere to turn but to March-Apt41 1998 Gottemoeller * Religious Life: Where Does It Fit? collude in the corruption simply to survive.''9 It is easy to be dis-mayed by the invective here, but a deeper concern is that the writer has the misconception that some or most religious con-gregations were founded to do a single work, namely, teaching, and that their members have willfully and selfishly betrayed their commitment in order to pursue other occupations. Below the issues of vocational recruitment, congregational morale, and public perception lies the deeper issue of theological coherence. VChere does religious life fit in the theology of our post-Vatican II church? The postsynodal apostolic exhortation Vita consecrata describes consecrated life as a gift to the whole church: Its universal presence and the evangelical nature of its wit-ness are clear evidence--if any were needed--that the con-secrated life is not something isolated and marginal, but a reality which affects the whole church. The bishops at the synod frequently reaffirmed [that] "this is something which concerns us all." In effect, the consecrated life is at the very heart of the church as a decisive element for her mission, since it "manifests the inner nature of the Christian call-ing" and the striving of the whole church as bride towards union with her one Soouse.tAt the Synod it was stated on several occasions tha't the e'~nsecrat'ed life has not only proved a help and support for the church in the past, but is also a precious and necessary gift for the present and future of the people of God, since it is an intimate part of her life, her holiness, and her mission)° Consecrated life, then, is an intimate part of the church's life and a decisive element of her mission. This precious gift is said to be a reality which affects the whole church. How are these affir-mations consonant with our post-Vatican II understanding of the church as a communio, an organic unity of all the faithful, consti-tuted in baptism, nourished by'the sacramental life and authentic teachings, and focused on the one mission? This question of eccle-siology can be the bridge to our third section, in which we focus on the identity and mission of religious life today. Some Suggestions for a Response I would like to attempt to answer our question of meaning and purpose by offering three assertions: (1) Religious life is a permanent state of life ,in the church; (2) religious life has an objective excellence, even a certain superiority, with regard to Review for Religious other states of life; and (3) there is no one ministry for which religious are uniquely qualified, but each congregation should offer a specific witness by its corporate lifestyle and mission. Religious life is a permanent state of life in the church. The impli-cations of this statement are that it is clearly distinguishable from other states of life in the church and that it is rec-ognized as such by the church in an official way. "State of life" is probably a term of art rather than a categorical definition, but I think we would all agree that it suggests a deliberate orientation of one's life, encompassing fundamental and stable choices around the use of one's sexuality, material possessions, personal freedom, relationships, talents, and future options. The choices made by persons in the religious state of life with respect to these dimensions of life are customarily designated celibacy, poverty, obedience, community, ministry, and permanence. The choides have an inner con-gruence, so that each influences how the others are expressed and experienced. Taken together, these choices are more than enough to distinguish a person in the religious state from one in the lay state. This assertion that religious life is a permanent state of life in the church might seem too obvious to need saying, but I feel it needs emphasis in light of the charge sometimes made that reli-gious have become indistinguishable from the laity. The real issue here is the visibility of the way of life, with its interdependent and distinguishing characteristics. If all an onlooker sees is a single woman living alone and going out to a job each day, the evan-gelical witness is compromised and its meaning eroded. Poverty, obedience, community, ministry--these make real-life demands and effectively shape a life that is distinctively different from the general Christian vocation. The church's recognition of this state of life draws on a dis-tinction between the church's structure and its life. According to the first, there are only two states of life, clerical and lay. According to the latter, there are three states: clerical, religious, and lay. The operative quotations from Vatican II's Lumen gentium are: "From the point of view of the divine and hierarchical struc-ture of the church, the religious state of life is not an intermedi-ate one between the clerical and lay states. Rather, the faithful of Where does religious life fit in the theology of our post-Vatican II church? March-April 1998 Gottemoeller ¯ Reli~ous Life: Where Does It Fit? Christ are called by God from both these latter states of life so that they may enjoy this particular gift in the life of the church. ¯ ." (§43) and "although the religious state., does not belong to the hierarchical structure of the church, nevertheless it belongs inseparably to her life and holiness" (§44). At the same time, the document (§31) says that "the term laity is here understood to mean all the faithful except those in holy orders and those in a religious state sanctioned by the church." In other words, the division of church members into three states, the religious, the clerical, and the lay, is a division based on the life and holiness of the church, not on its structure. Vita consecrata describes these three vocations as paradigmatic choices, "inasmuch as all particular vocations., are in one way or another derived from them or lead back to them, in accordance with the richness of God's gift.''~1 The diversity represented by these three fundamental options corresponds perfectly with the idea of the church as communio in which the Spirit provides for a variety of vocations, charisms, and ministries. A communion eccle-siology accents ordered relationships and differentiation of roles within the fundamental equality that stems from a common bap-tism. Diversity is also present within the religious state, not just among the three fundamental states of life. For example, conse-crated life is realized in religious and in secular institutes and in societies of apostolic life. Religious institutes may be clerical, non-clerical, or mixed; monastic, mendicant, evangelical, or apostolic; contemplative or active; ancient or modern. New institutes arise and old ones pass away. Whatever the canonical form or historical sit-uation, commitment to the evangelical counsels according to a rule approved by the church is the essential characteristic of this state of life. Given the countercultural nature of the commitment required by the counsel~, religious life will always be the choice of the few rather than of the many. However, it is an enduring way of life which seems to flourish in one epoch or cultural milieu and diminish in another, only to revive again with new vigor. Religious life has an objective excellence, even a certain superiority, with regard to other states of life. This second assertion about the identity and mission of religious life is prompted in part by a phrase which occurs in three places in Vita consecrata, namely, that consecrated life has an "objective superiority" in the church.12 When the apostolic exhortation was first published, commentators (including myself) reacted immediately to the phrase, noting that Review for Religious it seems to contradict the affirmation of Vatican II that all the faithful of Christ are called to the perfection of charity and to the perfect fulfillment of their proper state. Commentators pointed out that the word "superiority" was a translation of the Latin praestantia, which the French and Italian texts translated as "excellence" (and it, is likely that the document was first written in Italian).'3 In other words, we concluded that what the pope was really saying is that consecrated life has an objective excel-lence. We felt comfortable with this because to affirm one voca-tion or state of life as excellent does not imply that another choice is not equally excellent. On further reflection, however, I am willing to suggest that, whatever the pope did or did not intend, the word "superiority" also has a certain legitimacy. Appealing again to a communion ecclesiology, I find a differentiation of roles and a hierarchy of functions to be consonant with an organic model of the church. In the words of 1 Corinthians 12, "As a body is one though it has many parts, and all the parts of the body, though many, are one body, so also Christ," and, further, "If the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be?" Applying all this to the church, St. Paul asserts: "Some people God has designated in the church to be, first, apostles; second, prophets; third, teachers; then, [doers of] mighty deeds; then, gifts of healing, assistance, administration, and varieties of tongues." Finally, as if to under-score the implicit hierarchy in this list, he says, "Strive eagerly for the greatest spiritual gifts." The most obvious application of this principle of differenti-ation is with respect to ordained persons and their specific pub-lic responsibilities within the church. But I would suggest that the principle might also apply to the domain of the life of the church,x4 In the home at Bethany, Jesus says to Martha, "Mary has chosen the better part" (Lk 10:42). Can there be a good and a better part, objectively speaking, within the life of the Christian community? If the answer is yes, and if consecrated life can claim to be the better part, than what, specifically, makes it better? Vita con-secrata attempts to answer this question in paragraphs 29-34 deal-ing with consecrated life in and for the church. The crux of the answer is that persons in consecrated life commit themselves to a "fuller, more explicit and authentic confoi'mity to him [Jesus] t~larch-~lpri1199g Gottemoeller ¯ Religious Life: Where Does It Fit? through the profession of the evangelical counsels" (§30). This commitment is "a special and fruitful deepening of the consecra-tion received in baptism" (§30). This further consecration differs from baptismal consecration, of which it is not a necessary con-sequence. 15 All the baptized are called to holiness and the virtues which contribute to holiness, such as chastity, obedience to God and to the church, and a reasonable detachment from material possessions. But baptism does not include the call to celibacy or virginity, obedience to a superior, or the renunciation of posses-sions, in the form proper to the evangelical counsels. In addition to conforming their lives in an explicit way to the pattern of Jesus' life, those who profess the evangelical counsels also proclaim and in a certain way anticipate the future age when the fullness of the kingdom of heaven, already present in its first fruits and in mystery, will be achieved and when the children of the resurrection will take neither wife nor husband, but will be like the angels of God (VC §32). Thus, consecrated chastity or celibacy is the preeminent expression of, and "door to," the whole conse-crated life. In summary, then, the superiority of the consecrated life is twofold: in its conformity to the life of Jesus and in its being a sign of the life to come, both of which are specifically and uniquely realized in this way of life. Within the church and on behalf of the whole church, consecrated life is a kind of sacrament of presence. Again, in the words of Vita consecrata, "The consecrated life, by its very existence in the church, seeks to serve the consecration of the lives of all the faithful, clergy and laity alike" (§33). The ministry of witness is mutual: "consecrated persons themselves are helped by the witness of the other vocations to live fully and completely their union with the mystery of Christ and the church in its many different dimensions." Of course, we need to emphasize that the excellence or supe-riority of consecrated life adheres in the state of life itself and can-not be automatically attributed to any person choosing this life option. Individual men and women in consecrated life may be gen-erous or selfish, great-spirited or petty, devout or apathetic, bold or indifferent in their service of God and God's people. At times they may waver in their commitment or fail in their obligations. When they do, they acknowledge their failures, seek God's pardon, and persevere. The ideal is still in place, even though human weakness prevents them from realizing it as generously as they would want. Review for Religious As a state of life, consecrated life offers--to men and women who have been captured by so intense a love for God that every dimen-sion of their lives is affected--a more excellent way to express that love~within the context of church. Up until now we have dealt with the identity of religious life. Let me now turn to the question of mission. Other than wit-nessing by our presence, can we concretize what it is that reli-gious do (or should do)? In my view the answer is that there is no one ministry for which religious are uniquely qualified, but each congregation should offer a specific witness by its corporate lifestyle and The excellence mission. The apostolic exhortation Vita con-secrata deals beautifully with the inte-gration of consecration and mission: "By the action of the Holy Spirit who is at the origin of every vocation and charism, consecrated life itself is a mis-sion, as was the whole of Jesus' life" (§72). It follows that, if the life itself is a mission, it must be visible. The evan-gelical counsels and the ideals of love for God, passionate concern for the poor and needy, and commitment to community life need to be translated into specific behaviors that people can see and understand. These behaviors .also help introduce a new member into the meaning of the life and reinforce a sense of belonging among all members. Without such corporate behaviors, there is no visibility; with-out visibility, there is no witness. We could discuss at length what such corporate behaviors (or commitment mechanisms, as th~ sociologists call them) might be, but the principle is clear. In the process of renewal, we discarded a whole set of behaviors that were anachronistic or even harmful to psychological health, but we have not yet adopted new behav-iors appropriate for today's culture and ministerial needs. One of the factors that keep us from identifying or adopting such cor-porate behaviors is our respect for diversity. This value is affirmed in Hta consecrata and is a necessary outcome of the renewal pro-cess enjoined by the Second Vatican Council. If religious institutes successfully "return to the inspiration of their founders" and or superiority of consecrated life adheres in the state of life itself and cannot be automatically attributed to any person choosing this life option. March-April 1998 "adapt to the needs of their contemporary circumstances/min-istries," they are inevitably going to look different. What the council did not anticipate, however, is that diversity grew within each congregation. To some extent this development was a healthy outcome of greater appreciation of individual personalities, psy-chological needs, spiritual gifts, and so forth. However, unques-tioned diversity (that is, diversity of lifestyle, of theology, of spirituality) within a congregation can erode corporate identity and the possibility of corporate witness. It seems clear that viable religious life of the future will manifest less diversity within each congregation and greater diversity among congregations. Another factor that keeps us from adopting common prac-tices and behaviors is a fear of restorationism, a concern that someone will try to reverse the passage of history and return us to the practices we discarded years ago. We can see, if we reflect on the learnings of these intervening years, that such a reversal is not even remotely possible. Our failure, however, is that for the most part we have not identified and reflected on the learnings of these years of renewal. We have not asked ourselves how our cur-rent practices express our love for Jesus Christ and our commit-ment to the church in a credible way,.how they support and enhance our mission, how they promote greater passion for the gospel and for the service of the poor and needy. Our lack of crit-ical reflection on our present reality leaves the task of evaluation to those outside our midst who are often ill-informed and intem-perate in their judgments. Commitment to a corporate mission is an element that needs to be explicitated for each congregation, institute, or society. The articulation needs to be clear and focused if it is to effectively guide the choices of members about their ministries and con-tribute to the public perception of a congregation. On the other hand, the statement of mission usually cannot be reduced to a single ministry unless the congregation is very small or is con-centrated in a small locale. A congregational mission does not exist in isolation; it is an explicitation of some dimension of the church's mission. Therefore it presupposes an understanding of, and commitment to, ecclesial mission. This is an area of challenge for everyone in the church today, including religious. We need to recall that, at its deepest level, the church's mission is about restoring the relationship between God and human persons. It is expressed through good Review for Religious works such as education, social service, healthcare, and public advocacy, but, fundamentally, these are "missionary" only if they have an explicitly religious purpose and meaning. As more and more religious minister in secular or ecumenical and thus non-congregationally sponsored works, it becomes more important than ever to validate the religious dimension of their work. In our first-world milieu, there is probably no social prob-lem or societal need of such aching intensity that only religious with their full-time, lifelong, religious commitment can attend to it. Rather, there is a host of problems or needs---homelessness, ignorance, ill health, violence, social unrest, and so forth--which make legitimate claims on people of the gospel, whatever their state of life. Moreover, these problems exist within a culture tainted by materialism, consumerism, transitoriness, promiscu-ity, loneliness, xenophobia, alienation, and on and on. What reli-gious can do, must do, is offer another way to live within this culture in a personally transformed and transforming way. To that end, our choice of a specific ministry is secondary. What counts is that our ministry flow from and enrich the whole of our con-secrated life. To return to the question with which we began: Where does religious life fit in today's church? I would answer that it is an enduring way of life in which men and women intensify their commitment to Jesus Christ through the evangelical counsels, lived according to a rule. Their rules specify the particulars of their commitment in such a way that its integrity is safeguarded and public witness is enhanced. The mission of each congregation is a participation in the mission of the church, specified in a way that meets contemporary needs and focuses the corporate energies and witness of the congregation. Is this the answer one can give an inquirer, a potential new member, perhaps one's niece or nephew? The answer might seem theoretical or academic. A better answer might be that religious life is an affair of the heart. It offers, within the church, a dynamic yet tested way to follow Jesus Christ more closely and to serve him more generously, and to do this with the support of others who share this same passion. Notes *The Apostolic Exhortation on Consecrated Life, Vita consecrata (§I04), asks this very question: "What is the point of the consecrated life?" March-April 1998 Gottemoeller * Religious Life: Where Doe~ It Fit? 2 Lumen gentium, §§40 and 42. See, too, all of chap. 5, "The Call of the Whole Church to Holiness." 3"NCCB National Study of the Diaconate," Origins 25, no. 30 (1996): 501. Survey respondents included deacons, their wives, their priest super-visors, and parish lay leaders. 4 David N. Power OMI, "Theologies of Religious Life and Priesthood," in A Concert of Charisms: Ordained Ministry in Religious Life, ed. Paul K. Hennessy CFC (New York: Paulist Press, 1997), pp. 80-81. s David J. Nygren CM and Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ, The Future of Religious Orders in the United States (Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 1993), "Affiliative Decline and Role Clarity," pp. 248-249. Or see "The Religious Life Futures Project: Executive Summary," Review for Religious 52, no. 1 (January-February 1993): 6-55, at Conclusion 5, pp. 47-48; or see "The Future of Religious Orders in the United States," Origins 22, no. 15 (24 September 1992): 258-272, at Part IV, no. 5. 6 Patricia Wittberg SC, The Rise and Fall of Catholic Religious Orders: A Social Movement Perspective (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1994), p. 251. 7 Wittberg, Rise, p. 256. In the latter quotation Wittberg is citing Nygren and Ukeritis, "Future," Origins 22, no. 15, p. 268; or see "Religious Life Futures Project," Review for Religious 52, no. 1, p. 37. 8Wittberg, Rise, p. 256, credits these points to Mary Jo Leddy, Reweaving Religious Life, p. 73. 9 Religious Life 21, no. 3, pp. 4-5. ~o Vita consecrata, §3 (emphasis in the original). II ~/~ta consecrata, §31. 12 Vita consecrata, §§18, 32, and 105. ~3 See editor's note in Religious Life Review (July 1996), p. 25 I. 14The Final Report from the 1985 extraordinary session of the Synod of Bishops, dealing with the implementation and interpretation of Vatican II, says: "The ecclesiology of communion cannot be reduced to purely organizational questions or to problems which si.mply relate to powers." Se~ Origins 15, no. 27 (19 December 1985), p. 448. 15 The following paragraph of Vita consecrata (§31) speaks of"a new and special consecration which, without being sacramental, commits [reli-gious] to making their own--in chastity, poverty, and obedience--the way of life practiced personally by Jesus and proposed by him to his dis-ciples." 1:60 Review for Religious STEPHEN DE LA ROSA Creative Fidelity: Renewal in the Spirit of St. John of God Spirituality is a way of living: life as relationship with God, neighbor, and self. The beliefs, practices, and moral norms of many various spiritualities guide people's inte-rior life. The demands of daily living and the challenges of our time call upon people's various spiritualities for a response. As Brothers of St. John of God, we respond to the needs of the sick, abandoned, poor, and dying,. This response demands an interior disposition of patience, kindness, understanding, fortitude, and physical energy. Often our responses are made in the midst of adversity from limited material and financial resources. A recent book says, "Spirituality is understood to include not merely the techniques of prayer but, more broadly, a conscious relationship with God, in Jesus Christ, through the indwelling of the Spirit." St. John of God never lost faith, hope, and love. In the midst of great suffering, he always responded to those in need. Since such responses are not easy, every generation of Hospitaller Brothers of St. John of God is confronted with a spiritual attitude called hardness of heart. It begins with feelings of staleness or stagnation. The soul feels lifeless. The spirit becomes deadened. To move away from apathy and feel our actions rean-imated, what we need is an interior disposition of wonder Stephen de la Rosa OH was provincial for nine years and is now formation director of his province. His address is Hospitaller Brothers of St. John of God; 2035 West Adams Boulevard; Los Angeles, California 90018. spiritua renewal March-April 1998 De La Rosa * Creative Fidelity and awe, a renewal process that leads to a rebirth. This move-ment can be called "creative fidelity," a continuing response under the impulse of the Holy Spirit to the challenges of present moments as they come along. Fidelity of this kind is based on a certain relationship that is felt to be inalterable, an assurance of something that cannot be fleeting. When we say "creative fidelity" in the context of the spirituality of the Brothers of St. John of God, there arises a specific image: because of his interior life, St. John of God, who lived more than four hundred years ago, was able to be endlessly resourceful. St. John of God had many sides to his personality. Leaving home at an early age, he soon joined the army and soon ran into many difficulties. Going to Africa in search of more meaningful experience, he labored for people who were in dire need. He struggled with his own sinfulness and encountered mental ill-ness. Yet he went forward for the sake of the sick and forsaken and experienced his conversion in serving thousands of the sick in Granada. In short, John's life was not an easy one. But it is in this simple yet profound life that we discover the elements of the "creative fidelity" to which his disciples, sharers of his spiritual-ity, are called. St. John of God showed by example how to live in creative fidelity to the Spirit of God. The root of his creative fidelity is summed up in his constant proclamation "I trust solely in Jesus Christ."2 This trust in God was basic to his interior disposition. It is what enabled him to take on the inevitable difficulties of liv-ing in a world of p~in and suffering. Hospitality as a spirituality is a way of being and acting in the midst of suffering. It is a love that leads to caring for, and a caring that leads to love of, those who suffer. St. John of God could see the image of God in the suffering of those he called his brothers and sisters. Such an ability is a form of authentic human development. In his lifetime John of God motivated peo-ple to act hospitably in the midst of difficulties, and today he does so too. He remarks in a letters to a friend, "Remember our Lord Jesus Christ and how he returned good for the evil they did to him.''3 Connected with the notion of creative fidelity are the signs of the times and the challenges arising from them. Creative fidelity, in the spirituality of St. John of God, is the working out of the implications of our beliefs, adapting to the reality we live in, so Review for Religious that our human spirit can "act justly, love tenderly, and walk humbly with our God" (Mi 6:8-9). ,. John of God is not simply a poetic figure who stands outside the mainstream of his time. He felt the pain and abandonment of the sick and suffering and was enormously sensitive to what the public agencies of the time were not doing for others. His mes-sage, "Do good to yourself by doing good for others,''4 was an amazing message calling for contemplation, conversion, and com-passion and for commitment to alleviating people's suffering. It is this process, a cycle of renewal, which I call cre-ative fidelity to the spirit of St. John of God. Responding to the needs of our times requires a soulful response, requires that we Brothers be contemplative. Contemplative prayer involves seeing and being aware of the truth in a universal manner. It .means being aware of our surroundings. It is about movement and action or the lack thereof. For St. John of God, this awareness meant "Always have charity, for where there is no charity God is not there-- even though God is everywhere.''s The Brother of St. John of God who takes a contemplative stance tbward life, especially the life of suffering, will experience a great depth of happiness, peace, and love. He will also be able to sense their absence. There is an interior joy in seeing and understanding the meaning and reason of human suffering. Seeing the truth of suffering calls us to con-version. To act on what we see requires conversion. Contemplation allows us to see injustice, to confront our own needs, and to be open to a newness of heart. Hospitality to a stranger means wel-coming someone unfamiliar. It means recognizing another's vul-nerability compassionately. The interior elements of this response open us up to our helplessness. John says in a letter: "I am very unhappy when I see so many poor people (who are my brothers and neighbors) suffering and in great need in both body and soul and I cannot help them. Nevertheless, I trust solely in Jesus Christ, who will bring me out of debt, for he knows my heart." 6 The interior awareness of our helplessness is the beginning of creative fidelity. An authentic spiritual response includes a fidelity to Christ and the gospel, a fidelity to our fellow human beings and to our Hospitality as a spirituality is a way of being and acting in the midst of suffering. March-April 1998 De La Rosa * Creative Fidelity times, a fidelity to the charism of St. John of God, and a fidelity to the church and its mission in the world. The spiritual life of a Brother of St. John of God challenges us to present new answers to the new problems of today's world, not so very different from the times of St. John of God, when racism, greed, hatred, fanaticism, and economic inequities--and much indifference to such things, too--caused many human ills. People marginalized people, keeping them out of and alienated from the dominant social order or making them so. We too are faced with the isolation of the sick, the derelict, the aged, and the dying. Today we too place people in categories that dehumanize, that make human relations less than ideal. Through his spirituality St. John of God recognized the vulner-ability of others and recognized his own. Hospitality, for St. John of God, is a spiritual movement toward unity with God and neigh-bor. He goes beyond empathy to actually taking on the suffer-ings of the other. In his own experience of alienation, of being locked up in a mental hospital, St. John of God had an experience of"I am at home" and was liberated to be a brother to the poor and abandoned. Conversion leads to compassion. For the Brother of St. John of God, hospitality is the apostolic expression of love. Hospitality exposes the giver to the forma-tive experience of vulnerability. St. John of God was challenged by the needs of his time. He looked into himself and recognized the need to change. He looked outside of himself and saw the needs of suffering humanity. He surrendered to God and dis-covered a deeper relational integrity among the different dimen-sions of his life. He discovered that within the self there is little or no way of restoring people to their fullness. He turned in his need to total reliance on God. As we trace his spiritual journey, we see that this experience of trust in God allowed him, and allows future generations of his followers, to be formed in the image of the compassionate and merciful Christ, who emptied himself of his divinity and went about doing good, healing every kind .of infirmity. Hastened by the words of the sermon of St. John of Avila which brought about his conversion, St. John of God discovered the merciful love of God the Father and experienced God's com-passion as a remedy for his own sense of alienation. He experi-enced the compassion and merciful love of the Father as God's fidelity to him. New circumstances demand new responses, which Review for Religious in turn demand ongoing renewal and openness to conversion, which allows our response to be one of compassion. Hospitality, thus, means becoming one with the stranger, as the Son of God became a human being, emptying himself of his divinity to free us in mercy and compassion to respond to the Father's love. Fidelity to the charism of hospitality is lived as a spirituality when, in the presence of suffering people, we are emp-tied of our own pride, memories, or hostilities to be present to others not as the remedy or the source of healing, but quite sim-ply as a compassionate companion committed to the liberating power of the Spirit, an encounter of solidarity and communion. The spiritualized Brother of St. John of God is one who knows that God is communicating with him. But this deifying force does not remain closed in on itself; it radiates out of him to others--which means a true and real "horizontal diffusion" of the Spirit.7 In this manner a Brother of St. John of God partici-pates in the self-emptying act of the Son of God. "They don't just participate in him but they also communicate him to others. ¯. They don't just live, but they give life to others, and all of this is not something that pertains to a simple creative force." s At first glance it appears that John of God never asked any questions about what he should do; he just responded to the need at hand. Questions about whom to help and how to help them seem neither to have been noticeable in John's way of acting nor relevant to his cast of mind. He saw a needy person and acted. His fundamental healing project was to revitalize people's sense of integrity by restoring their human dignity. Yet, in his unwavering commitment to those in need, he did listen to his spiritual direc-tor, who warned him: "Do not deceive yourself by saying, 'I want to help them.' Because dangers lurk beneath good intentions when there is a lack of prudence, and God does not want me to bring about good for others at the expense of damage to my own soul.''9 Similarly, our own commitment needs to be tested against our fidelity to St. John of God's charism and to the church. The exterior structures of the church of today are in a state of permanent change. However, the Brother of St. John of God who, having experienced faith as a gift from a loving Father, does not rely just on exterior norms. Instead he looks to create an ever growing experience of a community of hope. The spirituality of St. John of God--and that of his Brothers as well--is an "in the church " spirituality. "In the church " refers to the church as it March-April 1998 De La Rosa * Creative Fidelity defines itself here and now and as it grows from the present into the future. For a Brother of St. John of God, fidelity to this growth is one of searching in the context of suffering for ways that we and others can grow in our human spirit. As Pope John Paul II says in Evangelium vitae, "We are called to express won-der and gratitude for the gift of life and to welcome, savor, and share the gospel of life." (§84). Our commitment is to human life. It is in living this life that we discover the interior life of the soul. Creative fidelity allows us to make a commitment to the spirituality of St. John of God in such a way that we see this truth that Evangelium vitae expresses: "Human life is sacred because from its beginning it involves 'the creative action of God,' and it remains forever in a special rela-tionship with the Creator, who is its sole end. God alone is the Lord of life from its beginning until its end; no one can claim for himself the right to destroy directly an innocent human being" (§53). The service of the Brother of St. John of God to the sick, the suffering, and the abandoned is a spiritual act of dedicated devotion to the person of Christ. Those who wish to be true fol-lowers of St. John of God will grasp his spirit and. nurture it. Like him they will find great consolation in the contemplation of the Passion. Such contemplation is much more than the sentimentally pious 16th-century practice that some might consider it to be. "When you are troubled or distressed, turn to the Passion of Jesus Christ our Lord and to his precious wounds, and you will feel great consolation," he wrote,l° This practice sustained him in his vision of love and assistance for those in need. We have seen how spiritual growth can occur within a spiri-tuality of hospitality. God calls us personally, and our response-- we are calling it "creative fidelity"--is our effort to understand more broadly and deeply the purpose and meaning of St. John of God's spirituality as embodied by our Brothers today. We are looking at a theological pattern that emerges in his spirituality and can help us in our ongoing renewal: contemplation, conver-sion, compassion, and commitment. In our experience of living out the spirituality of St. John of God, we are able to note how bringing the word of God to bear upon a situation raises questions, suggests new insights, and opens new interior responses. In this manner we continue to learn how to be faithful to suffering humanity in its needs in these o

Issue 56.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1997. ; for relig i ou s Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JANUARY-FEBRUARY 1997 ¯ VOLUME 56 ¯ NUMBER 1 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 joumml are meant to be informative, practical, or inspirational, written from a theological or spiritual or sometimes canonical point of view. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Lonis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: I:OPI~ EMA@SLUVCA.SI~U. E DU Manuscripts, books for review, aud correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. 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Such permission will o,aly be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisoty 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 JA~NUARY-FEBRUARY 1997 ¯ VOLUME 56 ¯ NUMBER 1 contents living the consecrated life ~ 6 The Ambiguity of Religious Life: Does It Evolve? Nadine Foley OP highlights the living tradition of consecrated life evidenced in the phrase "consecration for mission" and its development in Vita consecrata. The Vatican II Generation and Religious Life Brian J. Pierce oP comments on his post-Vatican II experience of contemplative spirituality, community living and sharing, and ministry among the poor. Of Those Who Leave Us: A Typology Edward van Merrienboer OP describes five types of members seeking permission to leave and the behaviors that led to their petitions. growing as christians 37 Four Seasons for Christian Group Sharing Hilary Ot~ensmeyer OSB proposes a dynamic based on the framework of the four seasons for Christian groups to reach new levels of sharing. Inner Work with You~ Anger 'Paul Duckro, Marjorie Kukor, and Jean Meier CSJ present the potential of a contemplative or meditational encounter with anger, so linking the psychological and spiritual aspects of healing. On Letting Go Denise M. Callaghan SSND reflects on the pervasiveness of a "letting go" in the continuing call of God to us as individuals and as a community. Review for Religious 59 loving as celibates Nuptial Love and Discerning Celibacy's Call Daniel J. Trapp examines the specific call to celibacy as a spousal response to Christ's love. Consecrated Celibacy as Means, Peril, and Delight Melannie Svoboda SND describes a few aspects of the religious experience of consecrated celibacy which is rooted in the unfathomable mystery of God's radical-mad love. 72 finding God Mystical Moments in Daily Life Matthias Neuman OSB calls attention to the mystical moments that reveal a transcendent mysteriousness and often a holy . presence which are a part of our ordinary faith experience. Silence Donald Macdonald SMM points the ways in which silence helps us perceive the priceless gift of a Spirit-filled world. Jesus, Power, and the ONE Edmundo Rodriguez SJ presents a way of understanding how action on behalf of justice is sanctioned by the life and teaching of Jesus. departments Prisms ~.,~ /~o ~ ~-,~, ~-Jf~o,o- Canonical Counsel: Diocesan Institutes and Pontifical Institutes Book Reviews January-February 1997 prisms Jesus is the focus of this year's celebra-tions preparatory to the coming third millennium. In John Paul's apostolic letter "As the Third Millennium Draws Near," the thematic structure of the three-year period 1997- 1999 is Trinitarian. Since the distinctly Christological char-acter of the jubilee is a primary emphasis, the first year, 1997, is devoted to "reflection on Christ, the Word of God, made man by the power of the Holy Spirit" (40). National conferences of bishops, local dioceses and individual parishes, religious congregational provinces, and other church organizations have proposed various ways of entering into this reflection on Christ: Some helpful study aids, reflection guides, and discussion outlines are available. Programs and conferences, gatherings among various Christian churches, and especially prayer services are planned throughout .the year. We all are called to become a part of this movement-- like a three-year-long Advent preparation--to celebrate our Christian jubilee. The challenge for each of us is accept-ing our responsibility "to know Christ Jesus" and acting on it. Knowing Jesus was a constant theme of St. Paul's writ-ings to the young churches. It is the theme reemphasized in our preparation for celebrating the millennium. How do we come to know Jesus? Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John each give us a way of knowing Jesus. Every Gospel account became a composite reflection of the stories told about Jesus within an evange-list's particular community. Details and settings of the same stories differ from Gospel account to Gospel account, and it does not matter. Each way of telling the story is true in its Review for Religious ability to give us an entrance into knowing Jesus. At one moment in our lives, through the Gospel of Mark we may find ourselves impressed by the immediate sense of Jesus' activism, the uncluttered quality of his speech, the directness of his affective response. At another time we appreciate the Jesus of Luke's Gospel, who appears so much the person of prayer, compassion, and lively joy. Sometimes the longer wisdom stories of John's Gospel and the image-identity language of being bread, life, light, vine, shepherd, gate, or para-clete call us to pe~r deep into our well of meditation. Over and over as we move through the Gospels, we find ourselves always com-ing to know Jesus~ Perhaps, taking our cue from St. Paul, we might discover anew the insight especially applicable to our millennium preparation. Necessary and helpful as the Gospel accounts are for our knowing Jesus, only in entering into our own experience will we find the Jesus who calls us by name, knocks at the door of our heart, and persists in bringing about the fullness of the reign ofGod. St. Paul was marked forever by his experience of One saying to him, "It is Jesus of Nazareth whom you are persecuting." For Paul there was no confusion of James and Joseph and Julia and Claudia with Jesus. But Paul realized that, in his dealings with James and Joseph and Julia and Claudia, he was also dealing with Jesus and coming to know him more, Paul came to know Jesus the more he preached and the. more he worked with all the people in his churches and the more he prayed. What Paul focuses for each of us is the Jesus in front of us, the Jesus whose coming we await by the way we live and minis-ter now. Jesus in his total gift of living and dying and Jesus in his sure promise of coming is always being made present to us in the Eucharist and so in his Body, the church. We experience Jesus. Experiencing Jesus is more than studying Christology or gospel reading. Experiencing Jesus is more than serving a, soup line or demonstrating for peace. Experiencing Jesus is knowing Jesus in the way that Paul exhorts his churches to know Jesus and to let themselves be seen as models of imitation because of that knowl-edge. The demand for people who know Jesus in this way has never been so clearly expressed as it is in the pope's apostolic letter. In John's Gospel, the story is told of some Greeks who came forward to Philip, making the request "We want to see Jesus." How will we, with the question coming both from within us and from with-out, respond this year to that request? David L. Fleming SJ ~anuary-FebtwaO, 1997 living the consecrated life NADINE FOLEY The Ambiguity of Religious Life: Does It Evolve? A number of years ago, in one of those seemingly endless discussions about the character of religious life that flour-ished among women religious after Vatican Council II, I remember making a reference to the evolution of reli-gious life. Within my hearing a canonist vehemently snapped out an objection. "Her response startled me; I could not see a reason for her agitated insistence. Was it the word evolution? The word seemed appropriate to me as a member of a religious congregation of women whose founders, responding to needs of the mid-1800s, emerged from their cloistered life in Regensburg, Germany, and ,.met the challenges of ministry in their new home in America. The move was not merely geographical. It entailed considerable adaptation of their lifestyle, their sense of mission, and ultimately their self-identity as a religious congregation of women. Their revered daily reg-imen of discipline and prayer as Second Order Dominican nuns was not immediately adaptable to what they were to undertake in a new and strange world. In due time they made the wrenching decision to become conventual Third Order Dominicans, an available alternative within Dominican structures. Was this development some kind of evolution? Nadine Foley OP, a former president of the Leadership Council of Women Religious (LCWR), is professor of religious studies at Siena Heights College and is historian for the Adrian Dominican Sisters. She can be addressed at 1257 East Siena Heights Drive; Adrian, Michigan 49221. Review for Religious Other institutes of women religious, founded directly for active apostolic or ministerial life, came sooner or later to share much similarity with active institutes such as mine that have their ¯ historical roots in the cloistered contemplative life. For both of these groups, there were expectations of meeting the obligations that had pertained to contemplative life: separation from the world, limited contact with the laity, conformity in dress and often in demeanor, a set horarium of prayer and liturgical observance, and disciplinary practices of silence, self-abnegation, and obedi-ence. Many of these were unique to women religious and not shared by their male counterparts. But changes were occurring in women's religious life without the appropriate "infrastructure" to support it. Modifications were made--dropping night vigils and prayers, from the daily horarium, omitting face veils from the prescribed dress, and the like--but tensions often existed, whether acknowledged or not. The model for the religious life of women remained that of the enclosure. The 1917 Code of Canon Law, welcome in many respects, more or :less fixed the ambiguity canonically in the sense that its architects--and, no doubt, members of religious institutes as well--did not have a clear perception that something new was emerging in religious life and might require a new look at the canonical legislation. In the 1930s and 1940s religious congrega-tions hastened .to write new constitutions in conformity with the Code while at the same time many made formal application for the status of pontifical institute. The all-consuming preoccupation for women religious (and many men religious as well) was with developing the entire spectrum of Catholic education and health-care to meet the needs of a burgeoning Catholic population. The effort required education of the members in all of the relevant fields of specialization to meet the standards of accrediting agen-cies. Meanwhile, imperceptible to the outside observer and even to many within religious life, a ferment of dissatisfaction and dis-affection was gradually spreading. The competencies developed by religious in the many secular fields required for their professional ministries had the additional effect of providing them with criti-cal tools of analysis that they began to apply to their own per-sonal development and their social organization as religious institutes. Then came Vatican Council II. By this time the institutes of women's religious life were ready for the directives from Rome ffanuary-Febrttaty 1997 that followed it: Hold a general chapter of renewal within three years, consult all the members in preparation, and enter into a period of experimentation where it seems advisable. A further communication, directing the institutes to write new constitu-tions and statutes, called for a thorough review of the original inspirations of the founders. No one could have predicted the impact of what followed, particularly when the institutes devel-oped internal processes for consulting all the members. Their reflections and consultations brought to the fore a wealth of expe-rience that hitherto had not been factored into general-chapter decisions about the congregations' agendas. The questions and the solutions were wide ranging and radical in the very good sense of reaching to the roots of religious life and its very identity. Reexamining origins and reflection upon a century and a half of experience in ministry were critical in formulating new con-stitutions. The documents produced were perhaps the first to reflect the character of women's active, or ministerial, ~eligious life. Mining the rich tradition~ in the original inspirations of reli-gious institutes led to a breadth in understanding ministry, not so much as specific works, but as response to the needs of people in our times. 'But a parallel effort was in progress at the same time: the reform of the Code of Canon Law. While religious worldwide submitted data for the section on religious life, their work on constitutions proceeded without benefit of knowing how the canonical revisions were progressing. In the final analysis, while some strides were made, religious were unable to find in the revised canons support for some of the new approaches--to traditional values of governance, community, ministry, the vows-- that had already been duly incorporated into their constitutions and statutes. As one who participated in the process of gaining approval of new constitutions through conversations with members of the Vatican Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life (CICLSAL, a recent name change that requires its own exegesis), I had a privileged vantage point from which to examine the notion that religious life does not evolve. While processes had been devised whereby entire congregations participated in developing new constitutions (documents that for the first time accurately reflect our sense of identity as ministerial congregations of women religious), it became quite clear that we were expected ,to fit into a Procrustean bed of fixed categories. Review for Religious The suggestion, once heard, that we could save ourselves a lot of trouble if we just settled upon calling ourselves "secular insti-tutes" epitomized the problem. We did not fit many canonical expectations of "consecrated life," but at the same time we found no comfort in being labeled secular institutes. ("Institutes of apos-tolic life," founded specifically for traditional "missionary" activ-ity in "foreign" lands, continues to be a unique category.) It is against this background that I read the postsynodal apos-tolic exhortation Vita consecrata. Many things can be said about this document, some positive and some nega-tive. (I will not dwell here on the persis-tence of noninclusive language.) But I take encouragement in the inference I draw from it that there is basis here for the idea that religious life can in fact evolve--or at leastodevelop, if that is a more acceptable word. I draw this conclusion as I move from chapter 2 to chapter 3 and find a distinct theological shift from a transcendent view of religioils life to what I will call an incar-national one. The shift is particularly evi-dent in the treatment of consecration, no longer wholly identified with the vows, but associated with mission in the phrase "con-secration for mission." While the theological reorientation is not consistent throughout, the theme is pervasive enough to be noted as a significant change. Two themes that are present throughout 'the exhortation are consecration and eschatology. The manner of their treatment illus-trates, the shifting theology. In chapter 1 the organizing biblical text is Matthew's account of the transfiguration, described as "a decisive moment in the ministry of Jesus" (§ 15, italics in the original here and elsewhere). While the document presents this experi-ence of Peter, James, and John as constantly relived by the whole church, a people on its way to the eschatological encounter with its Lord, it has particular meaning for those called to the conse-crated life. For, we read, Peter's words "Lord, how good it is to be here! . eloquently express the radical nature of the vocation to the consecrated life." The. ecstasy and the mystery of the trans-figuration lead to the evangelical counsels as "a specific acceptance of the mystery of Christ, lived within the Church" (§16). Thus reli- Reexamining origins and reflection upon a century and a half of experience in ministry were critical in formulating new constitutions. Januaty-February 1997 gious consecration is linked to the eschatological realization of the reign of God to come. Applying this interpretation to the three basic vocations within the church, the text reads: "The laity, by virtue of the secular character of their vocation, reflect the mystery of the Incarnate Word particularly insofar as he is the Alpha and the Omega of the world, the foundation and measure of the value of all created things. Sacred ministers, for their part, are 'living images of Christ the Head and Shepherd who guides his people during this time of 'already and not yet,' as they await his coming in glory. It is the duty of the consecrated life to show that the Incarnate Son of God is the eschatological goal towards which all things tend, the splendor before which every other light pales, and the infinite beauty which alone can fully satisfy the human heart" (§16). The three vocations here do not reflect the division of the church into episcopacy, clergy, and laity found in Vatican II's Lumen gentium, an outline that, by including nonclerical religious only invisibly among the laity, seems to drop them from the church (see LG §§31 and 43). While harking back to the "objective superiority of the conse-crated life" (§§18 and 32), a notion seemingly abandoned after Vatican II, chapter 1 acknowledges that religious life, in addition to its eschatological witness, is also "a particularly profound and fruitful way of sharing in Christ's mission, in imitation of the exam-ple of Mary of Nazareth, the first disciple" (§18). The "sacred bond of chastity for the sake of the kingdom of God" is singled out as the first and essential evangelical counsel. A further expansion to all the church's members' manifesting the one mystery of Christ is contained in the statement (here retranslated from the Latin) that, "as their specific but not exclusive characteristics, the lay faithful have activity in the world, the clergy have ministry, and consecrated men and women have special conformity to Christ chaste, poor, and obedient.''l This assertion occurs in the discus-sion of baptism and confirmation's conferral of a consecration that is common to all members of the people of God (§31). Erroneously but understandably, "ministry" in the official English translation of this sentence is sometimes taken to be the exclusive responsibility of the clergy, and special conformity to Christ in chastity, poverty, and obedience an exclusive character-istic of consecrated men and women. The qualifier "but not exclu-sively" seems to be attached only to the specific characteristic of the laity ("activity in the world") when in fact it pertains to the Review for Religious specific characteristics of the other two groups as well. Just as the laity and the clergy are not to repudiate the importance of their own "conformity to Christ chaste, poor, and obedient," neither priests nor (at least during the last several hundred years) women and men religious have been excluded from activity "in the world" along.with the laity. This is "missionary" activity, understood in the fundamental sense of their having been baptized into mission. It is just possible that collectively reli-gious have been quite as involved in ministry in the world as the laity have been, and no doubt proportionately more so until the recent past. Further reflection upon these three distinct-- but also overlapping (officially in this document and manifestly in historical praxis)--categories of baptized people seems to suggest that such separation of roles among the people of God no longer serves, If all the people of God are baptized into mission, and bear a responsibility for it, saving the term ministry exclusively for bishops and priests would scarcely be helpful. The term is today widely applied to many kinds of ser-vice as forms of diakonia, an essential component of mission, along with kerygma and koinonia--preaching and community. Perhaps in this connection we could profit from an expanded exploration of the meaning of the priesthood of all of the faithful. In various ways it is being exercised, but without the kind of theological reflec~ tion that would help us understand who we are as a total priestly people of God addressing the many aberrations in faith and morals that surround us in our global society today~ For many of us the subhead "Consecrated for mission" that appears at the beginning of chapter 3 leaps off the page as a sign of theological breakthrough. It encapsulates the case that I tried to"make for this concept in.my 1989. LCWR presidential address (see Origins 19, no. 13 [31 August 1989]: 209-214). At that time the idea abroad here and there that some r.eligious had opted for consecration and others for mission seemed dangerously divisive. The dichotomy became a defining issue for reflecting upon who and what women religious uniquely had become. We were and If all the people of God are baptized into mission, and bear a responsibility for it, saving the term ministry exclusively for bishops and priests would scarcely be helpful. Janltary-Febrvtmy 1997 are present in the world not merely as a kind of ethereal escha-tological "sign" of the kingdom to come--by reason of the vows we profess, that particular consecration of ours. Rather, we were and are present also as ministerial workers actively advancing the good of people and, thereby, the reign of justice and peace. In this way, too, we are a striking sign of the reign of God--by rea-son of our dedication to the mission of Jesus, consecration in that sense as well. Indeed, as the exhortation at this point says, "The task of devoting themselves wholly to 'mission' is ~,. included in their call . A sense of mission is essential to .every institute, not only those dedicated to the active apostolic life, but also those dedicated to the contemplative life" (§72). In support of this, Luke 4:16~ 19 is cited to emphasize that the Spirit has consecrated Jesus to bring good news to the poor, to captives, to the blind (§82). Consecration for mission places the vows in a new context and suggests that they testify to the evangelical counsels' "profound anthropological significance" (§87). Chastity is presented as a response to "a hedonistic culture which separates sexuality from all objective moral 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). Poverty is related to "a materialism which craves possessions, heedless of the needs and sufferings of the weakest, and lacking any concern for the balance of natural resources" (§89). And obe, dience is a response to "those notions of freedom which separate this fundamental human good from its essential relationship to the truth and to moral norms. In effect, the promotion of freedom is a genuine value, closely connected with respect for the human person, But who does not see the aberrant consequences of injus-tice and even violence, in th( life of individuals and of peoples, to which the distorted use of freedom leads?" (§91). These ideas on the vows, incarnational in my view, are more compatible with our experience than the idealized and "transcendental" notions pre-sented in the earlier sections of the document. They are consonant with the serious study we have done on Gaudium et spes and with the implications we have drawn for our identity in mission and the ministries we have undertaken to further the reign of God. These interpretations are welcome in expressing a realistic understand-ing of the vows, one with which we can identify. Whether or not~ religious life evolves is in the end not that sig-nificant a question. What really is at issue is whether or not the Review for Religious church--and the religious life within it--has a living tradition, one that adapts and grows and grafts new things into its old self, for the sake of gospel mission. The experience of women reli-gious over the years reveals that there is a dynamic interior prin-ciple among us that challenges, motivates, energizes, and adapts in our ongoing history. The traditional values of religious life are not cast aside; they are evaluated in new contexts, reinterpreted and reformulated for our mission in the contemporary world. Our communal discernment in these recent years convinces us that this interior principle is the Holy Spirit, to whom we must be faithful. Thus, Vita conseo'ata, Pope John Paul's postsynodal exhor-tation "on the consecrated life and its mission," strikes us as an affirmation of a movement of the Spirit of God that we have rec-ognized in our experience and articulated in our theological reflec-tion. We are happy to find this movement acknowledged in this exhortation. Note i "Licet varia haec genera unum Christi mysterium demonstrent, pro-prietatem peculiarem quamvis non unicam laici prae se ferunt, saecular-itatem nempe, pastores ministeriorum curationem, homines consecrati peculiarem cum Christo virgine paupere oboediente conformationem" (AAS 88, no. 5 [13 May 1996]: 405, §31). Our Lady of the Gifts Bewildered by the gifts: they bring Her son--such treasurest. and still listening For more nightsongs strange spirits sing, Her human love thrusts these apart As not fully human; let him start With just one gift; pressed to her breast For all she has to give: her human heart. Nancy G. Westerfield Janua~y-Februmy 1997 BRIAN PIERCE The Vatican II Generation and Religious Life lhad just celebrated my second birthday when John XXIII _~-went over to a dusty, closed window, threw it open with a smile, and invited the windy spirit of Vatican Council II in to freshen things up a bit. Needless to say, I do not recall the excite-ment of that time. Nor do I remember where I was when the news broke that John F. Kennedy had been shot. Only three at the time, I was probably building a fort in a sandbox somewhere-- totally oblivious to the tears and shock that swept the nation and the world, sending my mother into early labor. I do not even remember my little brother's birth the next morning. My preparation for first Communion was with a group of guitar-playing sisters who taught us a revised version of the Act of Contrition (I never did learn the "0 my God, I am heartily sorry" version that my older brother learned). They taught us, too, thaf it was okay to chew the Communion host before swal-lowing it, something my brother had distinctly been told not to do. To top it all off, none of my philosophy or theology classes as a Dominican were in Latin, and so, every time an older Dominican tosses out a Latin phrase during a dinner conversation, We younger men just roll our eyes and pretend to know what he is saying. Coming from that background, I can honestly say that I love the church and am committed to continue the journey as a Brian J. Pierce oP is a member of a Dominican community whose activ-ity includes lay ministry formation, university ministry, and pastoral accompaniment of persons with AIDS. His address is Frailes Dominicos; Apartado 2608, San Pedro Sula; Honduras, Central America. Review for Religious believer, a disciple of Jesus, and a preacher in the family of St. Dominic. I often get the feeling, though, that some of those who grew up in the pre-Vatican church look at us of the postconciliar generation as second-class Catholics: "Nobody can call himself a real Catholic if he's never attended a forty-hours' devotion," said one of those faithful daily-Mass folks to me one morning. I swallowed and smiled, not daring to confess to him that the young priest who had just "said Holy Mass" was one of those question-able "pseudo-Catholics." A sense of humor and some patient understanding help in those situations in which the distances between the generations seem irreconcilable. Religious Life and Spiritual Development In his recent book Further along the Road Less Traveled, M. Scott Peck, noted psychiatrist and spiritual guide, has capsulized in simple language the stages of spiritual development that James Fowler and others had mapped out earlier. Peck speaks of four stages: (1) chaotic-antisocial, (2) formal-institutional, (3) skeptic-individual, and (4) mystical-communal. My intention here is not to give an overview of the stages, but instead to comment on my own experience as a religious withi'n the post-Vatican church in light of Peck's categories. I realize that to make sweeping generalizations about faith development, especially on an institutional level, is both preten-tious and dangerous. I do so only as a way of situating us within the present moment so that we can more readily hear the Spirit calling us to growth. All ages of church history have had persons and communities representing each of the four stages. I think, though, that i( is safe to say that the pre-Vatidan church and reli-gious life had become somewhat bogged down in the legalistic uniformity of Peck's stage 2 (formal-institutional). Vatican II opened up the windows and doors of dialogue, both within the church and with the world. This dialogue marked the social and ecclesial environment in which my generation of religious grew up. In our childhood years Catholic liturgy was being transformed (causing its share of confusion, I later learned), and we began singing such hits as "Sons of God, hear his holy word" (inclusive language being still in an embryonic stagg). Renewal brought many new apostolic groups and movements, and there was an Janua~y-Febm,ary 1997 Pierce ¯ The Vatican H Generation and Religious Life overall air of dialogue and experimentation, especially in religious life. Uniformity was out, and modified habits and consensus deci-sion making were coming in. Vatican II's fresh breeze opened up the possibility for many persons and religious communities to move into skeptic-individ-ual faith development, Peck's stage 3. Peck says that, even though this stage is outwardly less "religious," it is in fact more "spiritual.". It is the stage of healthy questioning, conscientious dissent, and the blending of psychology and spirituality. In many ways those first years manifested themselves as an overreaction to the for-malities and legalisms of years past. In a positive sense it was a time of much dialogue and growth. My generation was still too young to be involved in 'the dialogue, but our early religious edu-cation took place in that environment. I remember the lay couple who taught our confirmation class in the early 1970s stressing that for us to be mature Christians we had to learn to make moral decisions with gospel responsibility. A far cry from the Baltimore Catechism of our parents' generation! Now we are in the 1990s and rapidly approaching the new millennium. Again, recognizing the frailty of making any kind of generalization, I think it safe to say that most of us raised in the postconciliar generation and most of the religious communities that went through renewal are still in Peck's stage 3. I do not mean that we have stopped growing or have become stagnant. Quite the contrary. In the American church in general and also among religious, a strong spirit of creative searching, is still preva-lent. At the same time, though, I think that very few religious communities have moved to what Scott Peck calls the mystical-community level. This may be quite natural, given the fact that Vatican II happened only thirty years ago, but my hope is that our generation may have something to offer here. Those of us who were formed in stage-3 parishes and reli-gious communities, complete with guitar Masses and face-to-face "celebrations of reconciliation," never went through the painful birthing process that gave way to the renewal of Vatican II. We are grateful to those who have gifted us with this rich inheritance-- a more mature and liberating life of faith within the community of believers. In many ways we had it easy, and perhaps it is now our .turn to lead the way through the desert. Many of my friends (ages twenty to forty) have left the church for a variety of reasons. Some have gone back to stage-2 Review for Religious Catholicism (usually lured there by disgruntled elders) or have found security in fundamentalist Christian groups. Reactionary Catholic religious congregations and movements and Bible-thumping evangelical churches (sometimes even with a shiny, high-tech faFade) are on the rise. Others of my friends--some of whom experimented with drugs--are trying to get to stage 4 by New Age pseudomysticism. Many young people today have a thirst for religious and mystical experience, and not all of them seek just a quick fix. The large num-ber of young adults (many ex-Catholics) adhering to the rigorous disciplines of Eastern meditation practices is an impor-tant phenomenon of our day. Our gener-ation is willing to sacrifice if we believe it is worthwhile (that is, no blind obedience, please). What, then, is this new journey that calls out to us today? If Our religious com-munities are not opening up the path to a deeper mystical and communal level of faith (Peck's stage 4), how can we respond in creative ways to bring about the needed growth? I am no expert on either faith development or postcon-ciliar religious renewal, nor do I propose to speak on behalf of all the Vatican II'generation. I simply speak out of my fourteen years of experience, prayerful struggle, and reflection as a Dominican. We have been hearing for several years now that religious life is in crisis, and I basically agree with that reading of the signs of the times. Crisis, however, does not have to mean something bad, a negative experience. Crisis can mean growth, a time for matur-ing, Just as past generations of Catholic religious strove to pro-duce new forms of religious life, so must we do today. This is no time to give up or go backward. We have received a generous and precious inheritance indeed, but the "not yet" of God's reign still burns within us: Now it is our generation's time and task to carry the torch. I am aware that much is being written about the renewal and refounding of religious life these days, and in no way do I intend a comprehensive overview of the issues at'stake. I will look at three main topics (contemplative spirituality, community living and sharing, and ministry among the poor) while attempting to We have received a generous and precious inheritance indeed, but "not yet" of God's reign still burns within us. I7- Januao,-Feb~waO, 1997 Pierce * The Vatican H Generation and Religious Life reflect on them from the perspective of us who were raised beneath the cool shade of Vatican II. Contemplative, Prayerful Living My mother, whbm I consider to be a fairly open and renewed Catholic, still pulls a tattered Stations of the Cross prayer book out of her purse to reflect on before Mass or after Communion. In other words, she still holds on to and receives life from the meditative and devotional practices common before Vatican II. That kind of prayer-book piety does not fill my spiritual needs, but neither does the "my ministry is my prayer" pastoral workaholism that apparently has taken its place, especially among us younger religious. It seems to me that we went from saying prayers (Peck's stage 2) to not saying prayers (stage.3 skepticism) and somewhere along the way began to lose sight of the plain, simple art of just praying. For many of us, the charismatic renewal, with its focus on prayer rather than saying prayers, offered a stepping-stone in our spiritual development, but the emotionalism and fundamental:- ism in the movement caused many to look elsewhere. I am con, vinced now more than ever, after five years of living among the destitute poor of Central America, that being a follower of Jesus necessitates a deep commitment to prayer--and prayer requires time, energy, and creativity. Without a very intentional spiritual life, we run the risk of doing many good things on an ego~ trip rather than out of gospel-based selfless love. As I grow in prayer-ful communion with God, I discover that my loving others is freer, less needy, more liberating. In the past several years, there has been a growing interest in contemplative and centering prayer throughout the country. This is a wonderfully hopeful sign, and in many places it is the laity who are taking the lead in this kind of prayer. It saddens me that I have lived in or visited religious communities where com-mon prayer is either nonexistent (stage-3 individualism, at best) or simply "reciting the breviary" (stage-2 formalism). In order to grow into a communal, stage-4 level of faith, we must learn once again what it means to really pray together. I occasionally spend my annual retreat with a small commu-nity of Benedictine women in Oklahoma. These women gather three times a day for contemplative, sitting meditation, a blend of Review for gelig4ous Catholic contemplative prayer and Eastern meditation practices. The shared silence has been a gift beyond measure for me. In my years of formation, we were enc.ouraged to give time each day to personal or "private" prayer--can Christian prayer ever be "pri-vate"?-- but because of the previous generations' experience of having to spend a half hour together each morning in the chapel for "meditation," we rarely shared silence as a form of prayer. It seems to me that in our day and age, with all its diversity and respect of the individual, we could profit immensely from a kind of shared prayer of silence. Silence binds together and bridges gaps in ways that words sometimes cannot. The liturgical reforms brought in by Vatican II .helped to bring our com-mon prayer back into the real world, but I believe that in many ways our common prayer has become just one more task to complete in the day's busy schedule and thus something that many find uninteresting. Introducing some shared silence into our common prayer can be a way of celebrating sacred time together in a "non-doing" manner. Prayer as a,task to be completed increases the workaholism of the many religious and lay Christians brought up on "do good to your neighbor" faith renewal after Vatican II. Not that we should reverse the renewal, for the recovery of the social-justice dimen-sion of our faith has been one of Vatican II's greatest gifts to the church; but are we perhaps only following our culture's insatiable drive for success and efficiency when we burn ourselves out as gospel do-gooders? A deep spirituality.that combines contem-plative prayer and Sabbath rest not only promotes gospel values, but challenges our consumerist society as well. The renewal of the contemplative dimension of our religious life consequently brings into question the professionalization of our ministerial commitments. I think that the emphasis on solid formation in theology, Scripture, and the social sciences that has come as a result of Vatican II is to be highly lauded, especially for women religious, for whom such opportunities were rare in the preconciliar years. To my mind, this move toward professional- In our day and age, with all its diversity and respect of the individual, we cof~Id profit immensely from a kind of shared prayer of silence. ~anua~y-February 1997 Pierce * The Vatican II G, eneration and Rdi~_ous Life ization, though, has taken away much of the evangelical freedom that marked the early years of our foundations. As professionals we have had to buy into the world of competitive salaries, con-trolled work schedules, tenure-track professorships, and the over-all efficiency mind-set that characterizes the corporate and professional marketplace. Can we honestly cultivate the deeply contemplative prayer life that we entered religious life desiring while yielding too much to that system? Without losing sight of the need to be justly compensated for our ministry, have we not given up some of the freedom to "be with and for God" by trad-ing in our vow of poverty for the corporate model of church life? Have we fallen into'a minimalisrunderstanding of Sabbath (noth-ing more than Sunday Mass) because of the demands of ministry? At a recent day-long conference on Dorothy Day and Thomas Merton--given by Jim Forrest, who knew them both--someone asked what his strongest memory of Dorothy Day was. Jim answered quickly and with no hesitation: "When I think of Dorothy, I think of her on her knees praying. She spent a lot of time in prayer." Imagine that! This dedicated social-justice apos-tle of the United States is remembered as a woman on her knees praying, and for long periods at a time. Stage 4's mystical dimen-sion cannot be integrated into our lives if prayer is just another point on the "things to do" list for the day (after clocking out from work at the social-service agency, of course). Our commu-nal and contemplative prayer must be leaven in the dough of our daily lives. For, when our prayer truly becomes prayer, then our ministry and our lives as a whole will also become prayer. Real Community vs. Corporate Individualism We know it. We say it. We preach it. We write books about it. But do we live it? Do we live real community? The early Christian communities were not sacramental fast-food outlets, nor were they the early predecessor to Motel 6 (key, clean bed, cable TV,, free breakfast, cheap rates). They were brothers and sisters who had made a commitment to each other and to fol-lowing in the footsteps of Jesus of Nazareth. They lived, shared their goods, worshiped, and died with and for one another and the gospel. The beatitudes were their daily bread, and they knew that being a disciple of J.esus was to be their everything, their cross and their deep joy. Jesus was the way, the path by which the com- Review for Religious munity of believers would walk together towards the promised reign of God. Does this sound a bit idealistic? Well, the picture which the Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles paint for us probably is a somewhat idealized version of reality. But let us not forget that these pictures appear in our Scriptures precisely because they were the goal towards which the early communities strove. Many ist-century Christians gave their lives to make this dream of com-munal gospel testimony a lived reality. Today we have the same struggles, difficulties, and weaknesses as the early Christians. But can we also claim to share the same goal of offering the world a living witness of the Body of Christ? I think that women and men religious provide coundess exam-ples of Christian witness, but I also think that the communal dimension of gospel living--and consequently of religious life-- has suffered great setbacks since Vatican II. We give ourselves to excellent and creative ministries, but more and more we do them alone. Everyone in the community has a project, and all the pro-jects are nicely organized under a fancy mission statement. We have all made use of the Myers-Briggs and the enneagram to facil-itate our once-a-month interface gatherings (which used to be called community meetings!), but does the world feel the force of our communal witness to the gospel of Christ? In my own Dominican tradition, the example of the first fri-ars in the Americas stands out strongly: a small band of Spaniards on the island of Hispaniola in the early 16th century. Needing to make a response to the atrocities of the conquest and oppression of the island's native inhabitants, and convinced that the atrocities were not the will of God, the community broke with the dominant theology of the day and preached that the Spanish conquerors were living in mortal sin because of their unjust treatment of the Indians. They all signed the community's homily that was preached by Antonio de Montesino, and, as expected, their words brought upon themselves a tidal wave of reactions, one of which was a harsh reprimand from their provincial back in Spain. Listening to the homily that day was young Bartolom~ de las Casas, who years later became the continent's most important defender of the cause of Indian rights. The question that blaringly stands out is whether or not the same words from a single Dominican friar on the island would have had the same dynamic effect on the history of Latin America that the community witness had. I think not. .']anuaty-FebruaD, 1997 Pierce ¯ The Vatican H Generation and Religious Life Today's church has become so individualistic in its focus that one wonders if there is still room for a prophetic witness in com-mon. The "something for everyone" mentality has worked its way into every part of chursh life in our country. Many of our parishes look more like the food malls where thirty or so minirestaurants are squeezed in between J.C. Penney's and Florsheim Shoes. We have become pastoral experts in creating a program for every-one, in itself not a bad outreach mentality; but the lack of focus is something we have to look at seriously. What is the message we are giving about the gospel? How can we celebrate the gains brought on by the council, with its renewal of lay participation in church life, without dispersing our witness in so many directions? I believe we need to step back and ask ourselves the tough ques-tion: Is corporate individualism the same as community? The question becomes even more urgent when we ask it from the point of view of publicly vowed religious life. Are we mir-roring the communal striving of the early Christian communi-ties or the strategic planning model of IBM? Brother David Steindl-Rast~OSB, in his book Gratefulness, the Heart of Prayer, uses a wonderful image to describe community living. He com-pares the old model of pre-Vatican corporate uniformity (Peck's formal-institutional) to sardines all lined up in a can--nice and orderly, but all dead. Real community, he says, is more like a school of fish swimming together gracefully'(Peck's mystical-com-munal). I think that we threw away the sardine can in the 1960s and then, liberated and full of life, all swam off in different direc-tions (Peck's skeptic-individual). How can we get back to swim-ming together gracefully in a school without destroying our creativity or drowning our witness in watered-down corporatism? There certainly are no easy answers, but we know deep down the hunger for such a life. Young people want community. Many of the people my age and younger are tired of the broken fami-lies, broken relationships, and lonely apartment living that have characterized our generation. The thousands of young people who flock to Taiz~ each year in postmodern, de-Christianized Europe must be telling us something. The human heart longs for communion, and the world denies the fulfillment of that longing to more and more people everyday. Many religious women and men are choosing to live alone and work .in their own ministries, often identifying themselves professionally with a group that is not their religious community. Review for Religious We have come to accept this reality as quite normal, but will it continue to attract young people to a life of public, gospel-cen-tered, and vowed living? Real community is an urgent need for us who long to channel our creative energies in healthy ways in a world that sees little value in the commitment of celibate living. Will we find that companionship if we come home to an answer-ing machine full of messages or a "com-munity" room full of brothers or sisters inert before the TV set like the pillars at Stonehenge? Could Acts 2:42-47 give us some hints as to where to continue journeying along the path? References there to the teaching of the apostles, the common life, the breaking of the bread, and prayer point to a community that spent a lot of quality time together. Today we have many meetings run with corporate efficiency, but do we really spend time together (sharing the day's stories during a leisurely evening meal, faith sharing, studying the day's or the week's liturgy texts together, recreating or even taking a day off together--away from the phone and TV-)? The early Christian community's life had a tremendous impact on the local people (2:43). Does ours? Have we ever considered a ministry in which the whole community works as a team (for example, a series of lay formation workshops, time each week in a soup kitchen, regular visits to the AIDS wing of a hospital), giving witness to the value of community through our example? The passage goes on (2:44-45) to the difficult point of sim-ple living and common sharing of goods. It is an area of great challenge for us today. We have adopted the "have credit card, will travel" mentality of mainstream America, some of which, per-haps,, is inevitable. But are we taking these steps with sufficient reflection and caution? Are we willing to defend the truth even when it may not be a popular stance among some of our generous benefactors? Do we tithe from our salaries and communal accounts?.Where does our province or religious congregation invest its money? Do those investments promote social, economic, and ecological justice? Are we content with generic brands of food Many of the people my age and younger are tired of the broken families, broken relationships, and lonely apartment living that have characterized our generation. ffanuaty-February 1997 Pierce ¯ The Vatican H Generation and Religious Life and a simple wardrobe? Do we have a common library, or do we all keep adding personal bookshelves? There are many questions to struggle with, but gospel witness is well worth the struggle. The last two verses of the passage (2:46-47) speak of enthu-siasm, joy, and simple sharing. We glimpse an early community that freely praised God while giving a clear witness to an alter-native, counterculrural way of living. Freedom to be for God and for others was their common ground. They risked martyrdom in order to keep giving their communal witness to the gospel. Theirs is not an easy act to follow, but it sure beats a sardine-can existence or lonely nights at Motel 6. Acompafiamiento, a Way of Walking with the Poor A great gift of Vatican II and these past thirty years has been the church's openness to continuing the dialogue with the world that the council's document on the church, Lumen gentium, high-lighted. The Latin American Church followed up with the prophetic stances taken during the Medellin and Puebla confer-ences of bishops (1968 and 1979). In the United States the pastoral letters on peace and economic justice have been lights .on the path of relating gospel faith to pertinent issues in our world today. We must not underestimate the steps that have been taken since Vatican II. Having said all this, I wish to comment on where I see a weak-ness in our post-Vatican II model of engagement with the world's poor. Not that what is being done is wrong or contrary to the gospel, but in many instances there is, I think, a need to move to a deeper level. Archbishop Oscar Romero, the martyred prophet of El Salvador, popularized during his years as archbishop the term acompa~amiento (accompaniment), a form of walking with the poor that is different from just working with the poor. Acompa~amiento is a way of living more than a way of doing (though, of course, this division in itself is dualistic). Several years ago I heard the noted liberation theologian Gustavo Guti~rrez say that we often reduce the option for the poor to going to the poor neighborhoods and barrios, to the social-service centers and the inner-city schools to work during the day, only to return to our comfortable homes and convents at night. To truly opt for the poor, Guti~rrez said, means to spend the nights withthem as well. In other words, we are called not only Review for Religiotts to do good things for the poor, but to be with them, to walk with them, to live with them, and, if necessary, to die with them. Romero's acompa~amiento could be translated as "sharing bread along the journey." It is different from giving bread to the poor; it is a sharing of life that dissolves the distances that separate us from them. To opt for the poor through acompa~amiento moves beyond all dualisms to make more real the concepts of global commu-nity and people of God. The hospice movement, Habitat for Humanity, L'Arche, and Christian base communities are expres-sions of this new way of being church and community. Each model portrays a community of equals, living and working together for a new world. There is very little corporate mentality present in them. This was the power of Archbishop Romero's witness--an erasing of the distances: the sheep and the shepherd together risk-ing their lives for the kingdom. How can our communities continue to make the transition to more of an acompa~amiento model over the traditional "charity" model (I do not favor the impoverishment of the word charity in contexts like this). I believe that, first of all, we have to set aside the obsession with efficiency and success that our world impresses upon us and complement our doing with an equal emphasis on being with. It is not an easy step. Rather than sending money, clothes, and food to the poor, can we pray, eat, study, recreate, and even live with them? The challenge is at the heart of the Catholic Worker Movement founded by Dorothy Day and Peter Maurin decades ago, and it is the call heralded by St. Paul when he proclaimed that our baptism erases all the divisions between persons, making possible a true community of equals (Ga 3:28). Finally, and perhaps this takes us back to the start, I believe that to truly love the poor as .sisters and brothers requires a con-templative (mystical) heart. To develop the capacity to stand in silence alongside the poo~r and accept the ambiguities of life is to grow into the mystical dimension of our faith. We really are not separate from "the others," but only a contemplative heart can begin to grasp the interconnectedness that holds us all together. If we grow in such contemplativeness, our being with becomes less a heroic act of giving life to .somebody in need and more a happy fulfilling of our potential as children of God: we are uninhibitedly glad of the opportunity to see the kingdom that .Jesus preached radiating from our simple act of "sharing bread along the journey." Januao,-FeblvlaO, 1997 Pierce * The Vatican H Generation and Religious Life I recently learned this lesson anew. A group of university stu-dents and I were scheduled to visit the inmates at the local prison. The students, among whom was Diana, a young crippled woman, met at our house, about ten blocks from the prison. I quietly asked if one of the students would go with her on the bus while the rest of us walked to the prison. Overhearing my request, Diana told me politely that she preferred to walk. I would not hear of it. Angry that no one offered to go with her on the bus, I decided to do it myself. By that point Diana, perceiving herself a burden to ¯ the group, had grabbed her crutches and begun walking home. When she finally had the courage to return to the group two months later, she told me I had made her feel terribly uncom-fortable that day. I had wanted to do something~r Diana. She simply wanted to be part of the group. I had seen her as a problem rather than as a person. Without a heart made flesh by prayerful silence and careful listening, we run the risk--as we go about doing good works to save the world of forgetting that we too are just part of this world already saved by God's love. To step back, to see and lis-ten to God speaking to us through poor people, is not always the quickest, most efficient way to bring about change in the world, but it is God's way. Stepping back, we discover anew each day that we are all part of one body--crippled, broken, healed, and set free. Community and Grace Thirty years after Vatican II, we all still have much to learn. The gospel is new each day and in every generation. However much progress we may have made since, the council, we need some self-critique as we continue the journey. Many people my age are not attracted to a church that differs little from the trap-pings of their everyday job, and the skeptic individualism in reli-gious life does not stand out as an exciting alternative. They can live that way and get paid a pretty good salary for it! Religious life' among the Vatican II generation must continue to offer some kind of critique of the dominant culture if it is to be viable for our times. Some cultural criticism, however, neglects important parts of Jesus' teaching. The post-Vatican II generation of Catholics is nov looking for more moralistic condemnations of modernity. They want a life with deep meaning, a simple life Review for Religious they can share with real people (and not just through their Internet modems!), a life that can help to make our world a bet-ter place without making themselves workaholic basket cases in the process. I believe it is still possible to swim gracefully through the waters of our times, guided not by the uniformity of the past nor the runaway individualism of the present, but by the Spirit of Jesus given to us and quietly moving in us with transforming new-ness and amazing grace. Awakening Golden leaves rustle and swirl Beneath the silver birch tree As sunlight from crisp blue skies Comes to rest on the forest floor. And nature poised on winter's brink Does not die but falls asleep Until it one bright spring morn Awakens to song of birds and brook. How like our lonely restless souls When in their final slumber lie Until aroused one glorious dawn By sweet sounds of an angel's horn. Eva Marie Ippolito Janua~y-Fd.-uaty 1997 F EDWARD VAN MERRIENBOER Of Those Who Leave Us: A Typology Tpe contemporary leader of a religious community is ected to be a person of prayer, with a vision, who can manage finance and who knows the legal aspects of public cor-porate life. Although few people ever fulfill all of these expecta-tions, most leaders do very well at some of them while in office. Many leadership tasks give one a sense of joyful accomplishment; of those that fail to do so, none is more painful, in my experi-ence, than participating in the departure of a member. I was a member of my province's council from 1973 to 1983 and then, until 1992, a member of our general council in Rome. In both the provincial and international contexts, the pain was ever present when a petition for dispensation came in. Impressed by the unique story that each of the many petitions revealed, I began to ask myself what I could learn from them personally and corporately about departure. During my nine years on our general council, I kept a brief list of people's reasons for leaving. My purpose was to learn from these experiences how to help those in leadership. I wanted espe-cially to help the men working in our initial formation programs so that they in turn could help our candidates avoid such painful experiences for themselves and their communities in the future. I share these reflections in that spirit. Edward van Merrienboer OP chairs the Department of Theology and Philosophy at Barry University. From 1983 to 1992 he was assistant gen-eral for the apostolic life of the Dominican order. He has written on reli-gious life, social justice, and spirituality. He can be addressed at Barry University; 11300 Northeast Second Avenue; Miami Shores, Florida 33161. Review for Religious Collating the many stories, I found that about eighty percent of those who left our community from 1983 to 1992 could be gathered into five groups, no matter what part of the world they lived in. My findings, of course, are not scientific conclusions of the sort one expects from an empirical study using a sociological method. Rather, they are reflections made after reading petition after petition regarding departure decisions that had been arrived at by individuals and/or the provincial leadership. I did not speak with the men petitioning for dispensation, nor did I interview their provincial leadership for additional data. My typology is based on what they and their provincial superiors wrote in the petitions. Typologies are models that seldom fit reality perfectly: there is always some overlap among the types. But still the general pat-terns proved helpful when I was making visits to our provinces. These types, from what I have learned from previous members of our general council, represent a change. During the time of Pope Paul VI, most members departed°to enter marriage. Today this is still a reason, but other reason~ have become more dominant. I have shared my findings with members of other general councils. They have found my insights to be valid in their communities and have encouraged me to share them more widely. What follows is a brief description of the five types of mem-bers seeking permission to leave and of the behaviors that led to their petition: the free agents, the must-have-its, the new founders, the loss-of-hopes, and the I'm-better-nows. The Free Agents Most free-agent petitions came from those who entered at the time of the Second Vaticah Council or within ten years after it. My religious community, like most religious communities of that time, was emerging from an era of strict legalism and con-formity. While we never had a fixed mold to force people into, informal ideas of what religious were supposed to be and to do defined almost every aspect of our lives. Perfection would be achieved by going through a "narrow gate," the perfect mechanism for making sure that, of the many called, few would be chosen. After the council, all the rules of our life were examined and revised. Now a wide embrace would replace the narrow way that was so well defined. Pluralism was encouraged in ministry and in 29 January-Feblwal.'~ 1997 Merrienboer * Of Those Who Leave Us local community life. Everyone was encouraged to participate in shaping our life and mission.For most of us this new freedom was a blessing because it allowed us to be ourselves and be faith-ful to our community at the same time. While limits were less defined, most religious knew that there were limits because of our vowed life. This was not the case with the members whom I am calling free agents. They enjoyed the new freedom and saw no limits. For some of them the freedom involved embracing works that were hard to locate within the mission of the institute or within the vowed life. Commonly they found ways to spend community funds while being little concerned about bringing in any money themselves or about the consequences of their expenditures on their community. Because finance is so concrete, much of the ten-sion between free agents and their community is about money. In extreme cases they establish private bank accounts or have funds that are not accountable to the community. Sizable funding is essential to them because it provides the means to express their freedom. Money provides the physical necessities they need to be free from the community's demand for responsible account-ability. Another area of conflict between free agents and their com-munity is their approach to relationships within and outside the community. Some of these relationships become exclusive com-mitments that involve genital expression. Self-direction in ministry becomes essential as part of their freedom agenda. Most are happy with the spirit of freedom that the council mandated; but, when "oppressive" superiors or members begin to challenge their lim-itless freedom, they became unhappy and start to question their vocation. They often say that they woul.d never have come to the point of seeking dispensation from their vows if it had not been for narrow-minded, or legalistic leaders. They do not see the problem of living a lifestyle that is contrary to their public commitment. Long and painful dialogues with their superiors do not enable them to see the points of conflict. Some express their anger at the community for trying to restrict the freedom given to them by the council. Many view the challenges coming to them from their community as statements of distrust. The decision to leave the community is a result of having to choose concretely between their agenda of freedom and certain Review for Relig~ous behaviors their community identifies as essential. It is tragic that often these members leave us without ever understanding that every life option imposes certain limits upon people, that in this regard religious life is no different than any other vocation. The Must-Have-Its Departing members of the second type seek dispensation within a very short time--usually three years or less--after their final profession or ordination. Judging from externals, one won-ders whether these members have really given religious life a fair chance. A common concern expressed by leadership is that these members may be acting in haste. The problems the mem-bers are experiencing could be rooted in the normal adjustment period from initial forma-tion to the wider life of the community. Because of the short time that these mem-bers have been in the community, unless there have been major difficulties previously, most religious superiors give only a very qualified support to their petitions for dispensation. This is understandable from an administrative per-spective, but I think there is an aspect of these members' personality that is perhaps being over-looked. It is this: They cannot come to a decision to leave the religious life or the priesthood until they actually possess these realities. Part of their personality demands that they prove to themselves that they can be a religious before they can decide that they do not want to be one. Some of this feeling is rooted in a need to be clear that they are rejecting the community and not being sent away. Very often I noted that, when during their initial formation they were asked as candidates to question their decision to be a religious, they responded by devoting themselves to becoming a better religious. Even when their simple vow period was extended so that they could look at their vocation, they never questioned their call to religious life. Some indicate that, almost from the day of their final pro-fession or ordination, they began to question if this was for them. They felt that before final profession they really .had not known While limits were less defined, most religious knew that there were limits because of our vowed life. Janua~y-Feb~vla~y 1997 Merrienboer ¯ Of Those Who Leave Us what it would be like; now they knew fully and were not happy. Others fully expected that after final commitment their experience of the life and ministry would change radically. It did not; in some ,cases it even became worse. They were given less attention and were expected to be fully contributing members of the commu-nity- which beEame a major source of frustration. Even in situations where a mentor was assigned to assist them in their adjustment to the postformation community life, there was little the community could do to change the attitude that, "now that I have what I set out to achieve, I noolonger want it." My reading of their autobiographies comes up with a pattern throughout their life of obtaining something, then setting it aside. Before entering the community, a high number of petitioners had obtained graduate degrees in unrelated fields and then never used this knowledge and experience. At the core of persons of this type is their inability to project their hopes into the future and make an assessment of their fitness for that vocation. Their experiences of initial formation do not enable them to make an educated guess about their ability to live religious life in the future. They only know what is present to them, and now that they have the life in its fullness they no longer want it for themselves. The New Founders Some people enter a religious community with the idea of reshaping it according to their own vision of religious life. Such an idea is in strange contrast to a community's centuries-long acceptance of its charism, but it is a fact that some people feel that their own image of religious life today takes priority over all that has come before it. One area into which such new-foundation efforts are brought is the community's mission. New founders would define this mis-sion as movement for social change or promotion of a different theological perspective. In countries where there has been a his-tory of repression in society, they see religious community as a resistance movement that offers its members prophetic opportu-nities. When the new founders promote involvement in social action, they become disappointed that not all the members feel called to participate. In more industrial countries the meaning of religious life, Review for Religious according to some new founders, is to protnote the women's movement or the gay movement. For others it is to become pro-tectors of traditional understandings of the faith. A common focal point for new founders is the community's liturgy. It becomes the platform for their view of religious life. Whether traditional or progressive, they see community prayer as a way to form the other members into a new identity. Most new founders are critical of programs for new members and of the actions of the community's leaders. They believe that, if their own vision of things prev~lils, the community will be refounded with new vitality. They blame the community's short-age of vocations on its resistance to their newcomers' vision of community renewal. The tone of their petitions for dispensation often indicates that they consider themselves to be ahead of or even better than most of the institute's members. They predict dire consequences for the community after their departure, Convinced that their own vision is important and urgent, they feel they must leave and find a place to implement it immedi-ately. Such refounding attitudes seem to stem from an assumption that the community is joining them on their journey, not that they are joining a group that already has a reasonably defined identity as it proceeds on its journey. In my experience, formation programs that encourage self-expression without enough regard for the community's corporate identity only encourage new founders in convictions that will prove problematic. The Loss-of-Hopes I have thus far described three types of departing members. I believe that the responsibility for their departure from religious life rests primarily with them and not the community. The com-munity has failed them in many ways, but the motivation of these individuals has been essentially flawed, often from their very early years in religious life. The fourth type of persons leaving reli-gious life today are different. Here the primary responsibility for the departure lies with the community, with its lack of faithfulness to its charism. These tragic petitions come from persons who have given their best effort to be faithful to the religious life and have not found much support from other members. Some have found it JanuaTy-Febtvtaty 1997 Merrienboer * Of Those Who Leave Us nearly impossible to find within their community a supportive environment for prayer and the vowed life. If they have shared their frustrations with other members, they often have received kind words but not active support. Sometimes this, alienation from the community has been caused by other members' general lack of interest in things spir-itual. These other members see themselves as professionals and have little feeling for the idea of a vocation. Considering the meaning of the vows to be very personal, they avoid discussing their own viewpoint with others for fear of seeming to impose it on them. I believe that the departure decisions of members of this type are rooted in their experience of hopelessness about the direc-tion in which the community seems to be moving. Often they feel that they do not even speak a common language about reli-gious life with the other members. They feel that the commu-nity has settled for the lowest common denominator for reasons of avoiding the tensions associated with serious conversion efforts. From my distant vantage point, there appear to be real signs of death in places where these departing members have been living their religious life; regrettably, suggestions to try another place are too late by the time the petition for dispensation reaches the major superior. It falls on leaders to learn from these tragic stories and to address the perceived failures as part of their leadeiship task. In my experience, it is almost impossible to restore hope to members who have become disillusioned; but leadership should make dis-tinct efforts to change situations in which, in the future, even more members would be likely to lose their hope. The I'm-Better-Nows Persons of the fifth and final type of men leaving religious life during my term of office were those who through most of their lives suffered from spiritual or emotional problems. Often their motive for entering religious life was the hope of having their problems resolved by the vowed life. Some of these problems were rooted in their early childhood experiences. Religiou~ life appeared to be a safe place to escape the pain of their family sit-uation. Their low self-esteem was a primary reason for entering community. Their hope, however, that religious life would con- Revie'a, for Religious fer a new value on them and make them better people had not been fulfilled. In some cases the reality of verbal or physical abuse made them fearful of any close relationship. They perceived the vow of chastity as protecting them from such trials, but as the years passed they experienced an inability to relate in a healthy manner with other members of the community. Their lives were marked by a crisis event, such as substance abuse, which made their superiors suggest or even require them to get professional help. Their petitions for depar-ture were often set in the context of the ther-apy in which their suffering was addressed. As they became spiritually and emotionally more integrated, their reasons for being a religious seemed to them less cogent. If they now were capable of healthy relationships, they wanted marriage or the freedom to find deeper mean-ing outside religious community. While it might seem strange, their main reason for wanting to leave community was that they were now happy and did not need the community anymore, Their needs for protection and status had been resolved in a positive manner. Most of these petitioners expressed gratitude to the community for their loving support through their many trials, and they knew true sorrow as they left. I have spoken with a number of healthcare givers about mem-bers of this type, and all have suggested that departure may be the best option for them. They also suggest that religious should examine within their communities the dynamics that allow peo-ple to hide from their problems until they reach the crisis stage. One healthcare professional once told me he thought that reli-gious practice "false mercy" in not addressing the problems of disturbed members until there is a major crisis. As they became spiritually and emotionally more integrated, their reasons for being a religious seemed to them less cogent. Reflections for the Future No matter how perfect our formation programs become, there will always be some members who make the decision to leave us after many years of association. This is to acknowledge frankly Janttaty-Febtvtat3, 1997 Merrienboer * Of Those Who Leave Us the human dimension of religious life, but we can learn from our experiences. It is for the sake of such learning that I have shared my insights as a general-council member who has returned to his province and seen these patterns continuing in religious com-munities. Can we learn from those who have left us? Can we speak hon-estly with our present members when we see behaviors that have led others to leave us? I believe that, if we have the courage to say yes to these two questions, the pain of occasionally having some members choose to leave us and our life together would be much more bearable. In the Temple Year followed year the two had come to this place, old man, old woman, wearing persistence like a skin. Here, perhaps, familiar shadows sharpened the eye's observance. What ¯ better place to find the light, and by it be found, than in the dark? Leonard Cochran OP Review for Religious HILARY OTTENSMEYER Four Seasons for Christian Group Sharing From time to time a gathering of like-minded Christians-- whether it be a spiritual-direction group, an Emmaus group, a Bible-sharing group, or a prayer group--expresses a desire to "go deeper." This desire, perhaps only vaguely defined, generally means that the members want to be more self-revealing, more honest in discussing areas of faith, doubts about the church, glossed-over conflicts within the group, and fears that the meetings have become perfunctory, even boring. In such a case the introduction of some simple group dynamic into the meetings may allow the group to reach a new and more comfortable, if challenging, level of sharing. A dynamic based on the four seasons seems well suited to that task.~ The first time the dynamic is used, an outside facilita-tor can be helpful, one whom the group has chosen for being able and trustworthy. Later, on its own, the group could well devote at least one session to each of the seasons. Nature's seasons are an experience with which we are all familiar. The seasons can function for a group in poetic, dynamic ways, that is, ways in which the clearest and most labored prose cannot. Such metaphors break through the limits of human speech and help us become aware of thoughts and feelings that are otherwise inaccessible. The "I am" statements of John's Gospel demonstrate this beau-tifully. Each believer brings a different set of meanings Hilary Ottensmeyer OSB wrote "The Problem with Problems" for our September-October 1995 issue. His address remains 1414 Southern Avenue; Beech Grove, Indiana 46107. Ottensmeyer ¯ Four Seasons for Christian Group Sharing on hearing Jesus describe himself as the Good Shepherd or the Bread of Life. The seasons function in a similarly evocative way. People instinctively realize that we grow only when we hon-estly share the burdens and problems of our minds and hearts. Time and again we witness this in the pages of the Gospels. The healed leper, the demoniac rescued from among the tombs, the blind Bartimaeus lifted from his roadside isolation, the breath-less disciples returning to Jerusalem from the road to Emmaus, all these Jesus restores to community where they can pour out their hearts in sharing their "stories." Some Cautions Sharing in a group must be neither .intrusive nor abusive. Certain agreed-upon boundaries need to be set to protect the sanctuary of the individual conscience and the dignity of personal free will. There can be no forced entry into the heart. Even God will not force that door, but, like a true lover, quietly tells us, ,Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me" (Rv 3:20). The ultimate dream: table companionship with God! As a minimum, the following rules apply: 1. Members should make only."I" statements, never "you" statements, that is, "I think." and not "You are . " We cannot know the full reality of other people's minds and hearts until we ask them from a respectful distance. 2. Anyone should feel free to call a halt at any time to a line of inquiry directed towards herself or himself: "I'd really rather not discuss that at this time." This allows group members to claim the reverence which is their due. 3. Members should accept responsibility for the unfolding of their lives, avoiding the chronic "victim mentality" that is pervasive in our culture. Blaming others or "life" is most often an evasion.~ As one friend expresses' it, there are four doors into the neurotic. Each door is a belief in one of the following statements: (1) I can make you happy; (2) I can make you sad; (3) you can make me happy; (4) you can make me sad. Reluctant though we are to acknowledge it, each one of us is responsible for his or her own life. Only catastro-phes that overwhelm us exempt us from facing this honestly. 4. We help each other through honest and clear feedback, painful though that may sometimes be. Simple feedback, that Review for Religious is, a brief statement about how another's thoughts or actions come up in one's own life, proves most helpful: "When I am drawn to act that way, I find ."Advice giving is to be care-fully avoided. Other cautions come to mind, but these seem basic. We do not have a direct perception of ourselves. So burdened are our thought processes, so fixed into routine are our actions, that we need the kind mirror of another's perceptions held up before us. We seem at times so suffocated by our prejudices, by our closely guarded denials and chosen ignorances, that we experience a real joy when someone gently opens the window to let in the fresh air of new ideas and new possibilities. Indeed, our deepest prej-udices are those we hold against ourselves. This is the saddest discovery of all. What a joy when someone helps us stand up and claim our own worth! Fall: Season of Fruition Easing into the sharing process is most gently done by choos-ing as a beginning the symbol of fall. Most mellow of seasons, fall is the time of harvest, when good things are gathered up and fes-tivals begin. The rewards of hard work and steady determination lie before us. We have a need to celebrate at this time of year. At this point, what are the fruits of the group's loyalties? There are stored memories of joy shared, of times when a mem-ber has been lifted up and celebrated. The group has had insights that can be recalled, times when it realized that Jesus was there in their midst and hearts burned with awareness of his presence. The Lord was walking with the group as it went along the way. Ours is a faith community devoted to the joys of remembrance, as every Eucharist proclaims. One way of beginning: Inventory the gifts each individual brings to the group. What do I bring to the group which, because of my background, education, talents, and so forth, constitutes a special gift? Follow this by a question put to the entire group: What do we think this one member contributes that is most enriching? Move on then to a consideration of how the group has changed over time, pointing out new levels of support and understanding. Where has a sense of continuity been discerned? What new and unexpected biessings have been slowly revealed in each individual? ffanuao,-Febrttaty 1997 Ottensmeyer ¯ Four Seasons for Christian Group Sharing An important benefit of a sharing group is the contact that members have between sessions. We all struggle to keep alive a "circle of friends." A support group affords an excellent opportu-nity to widen that circle beyond relatives and school-day chums. Do the members of the group reach out to each other between meet-ings? Has acquiring and sustaining friends--those essential inter-personal skills--been nurtured by the activities of the support group? What new skills have been acquired? "If you want a friend, be a friend" is a truth that needs to be lived out day by day. Living in community is of itself no assurance of having friends, but only company. Have I worked at being a friend to members of the group? Winter: Season of Perseverance Winter is the season of hoping and of endurance. For most of us in these northern climes, except for the occasional bright win-ter day, the skies are covered and a chill hangs over the land. Winds bite. Snow and ice impede travel. One has to draw on deep inner resources of strength, and hold on to memories of warmer days. There are winter seasons for a support group, too. These times have to be confronted and admitted. There is a time for breaking open the soil before spring planting. We are reluctant to put a hand to this kind of work, but it is the necessary condition for future growth. A "winter" discussion is the most difficult kind the group will have, and requires patience and loyalty. Questions needing examination fall easily into three cate-gories: 1. Where have we silently established "off limits" areas of discussion: subtly agreed-upon restrictions and withhold-ings? When and how does sharing break down in the group? What expectations did we bring when we joined the group, and how have these been disappointed because of these unspoken conventions? Was I honest with my hopes when I joined? Certainly, every group has the right to mark the boundaries of its sharing. But were these boundaries hon-estly agreed on when the group was formed? Were we too idealistic, too superficial, or too demanding? Were there angers in the group that were glossed over? ¯ 2. What does the group need to work on with determina-tion, for example, admitting and establishing boundaries, facing avoidances; or surfacing denials? Review for Religious 3. Very importantly, what healings need to take place? Does any member feel wounded or rejected in any way? How would this healing best come about? One makes a wonderful discovery in crossing this difficult winter terrain. Secrets can poison people's lives. When we have the courage and trust needed to reveal those tender areas of the heart, we find that others too have suffered in the same way. Walls crum-ble. The Jesus who draws us together out of our loneliness and fears is there, in the eyes and voices of others, to strengthen the fragile bonds that hold together a faith community. Spring: Season of Hope Renewed We all love spring with its beginnings of new life, with early crocuses, hyacinths, and tulips. Winter seems sometimes to linger stubbornly, but spring finally triumphs and spirits soar. Melting snows turn into sparkling rivulets. Sap rises in the trees, and ten-der greens appear along the limbs of trees. A support group too brings forward its hopes for renewal, for new life. It is helpful to go back and test the roots for their vital-ity. This can be done when the members share where their indi-vidual faith stories began. People are always eager to tell their stories. The vast professional therapeutic industry has risen because people are hungry to recount their stories. If the listen-ers are skilled, they can help the storyteller understand better the meaning of the tale. Within the faith story, certain elements are important. Who taught you to pray? Who were your role mod-els of faith? What were some of the significant moments on your faith journey? What was your image of God in childhood years, and how has it evolved over the years? How do you pray at this time in your life? What more do you wish for in your relationship with God? What is your answer when Jesus asks, "What do you want meto do for you?" (Mk 10:51). Not only do roots need to be inspected, but growth too needs to be looked for. What hungers are you aware of in your faith today? How could this support group help you? What aspects of your faith do you want to bring into the lives of those you love or those with whom you work? I have noticed that groups experience a surge of interest when "spring" sessions take place. A renewed commitment, a deeper investment is made in the group, and mem-bers reach a deeper trust level very easily. Januao,-FebrttaO, 1997 Ottensmeyer ¯ Four Seasons for Christian Group Sharing Summer: Season of Sustained Growth The summer months fill us with a sense of achievement. The harsh days of winter are over. The stimulating work of spring has been accomplished. Now is the time to relax and enjoy the warm days and long, quiet evenings. In fields and in flower beds around the house, buds are gathering to maturity; grains are swelling in the fields and fruits filling out to ripeness in the orchards. This is the season of contentment, when gentle rains come to nature's aid. Now people have time for visits, vacations, and concerts in the park. Indeed, the "lazy, hazy days of summer" clothe us like a comfortable garment, and we are grateful. Groups, too, can benefit from at least one "summer" session, counting the blessings the members have seen coming to fruition among themselves. What was the heritage the individual members received from their mother and father? Looking back on the ten-der years of childhood, each person recognizes a "gift" from his or her parents, a "breath of life" that only parents could breathe into the heart of a child. Influenced deeply by our family roots, we make decisions about our place, our possibilities, in the world. What was the special legacy, outlook on life, stance before the future that the members received-from their mother and father? And how has this gift been nurtured and cherished? How did the hands of your father and mother feel at your back as they sup-ported your first steps and as you still, to this da~,, feel their hands steadying your walk through life? Or, and this too must be faced, did their hands grasp you and hold you back? When did you first feel the hand of God at your back, reach-ing with help and love into your life? Perhaps you experienced God as a hand drawing you forward through difficult days and years, pointing the way prophetically towards promise. Which times were times of contentment, when your journey reached a plateau and you rested quietly for a while? Seasoned Years Our lives seem to take the shape of repeated cycles. The pri-mordial journey of Abraham comes to mind here. A call comes to move forward when we are asked to entrust our future to God in faith. Then follows a transition period presenting obstacles to overcome, anxieties and failures to accept, flesh commitments courageously to be made to our beckoning God. Finally comes a Review for Religious sense of arrival, a time to rest and gather strength for the next call, time to sing a canticle of gratitude. Such a pattern applies to a support group. How has the group experienced these calls, these trials, and these periods of rest? Does the group know how to celebrate its members, choosing activities that will express its joy? One priest group I know takes a three-day trip each summer. All eight pile into a rented van, set out for a not-too-distant point of interest, and simply enjoy them-selves. They are gathering shared happy experiences to live on through the months to come. Nothing has been said on the impor-tant topics of how a group is set up, how members select themselves into a group (or are allowed to join it), and how an individual might bring closure when leav-ing. Indeed, perhaps the group decides it no longer serves its original purposes and goes out of existence. No mention has been made of how a group defines its orig-inal goals or modifies them. Without that vital process, the prospects for a successful investment of time and energy are rather dim. These are all con-siderations for another article, one that indeed has been written many times and was not our purpose here. Group renewal is our purpose. Every group, no matter how well put together at its inception or how generous and serious the will of its members, needs to be renewed in its commitment from time to time. The four seasons of the year can help in that necessary task. When did you first feel the hand of God at your back, reaching with help and love into your life? Note ~ The seminal idea for this article was suggested to me by Donna Fyffe; CommunityWorks; 101 West Ohio Street, Suite 1776; Indianapolis, Indiana 46204. Januar),-FebJvlat3, 1997 PAUL DUCKRO, MARJORIE KUKOR, AND JEAN MEIER Inner Work with Your Anger Anger is an emotion much maligned. It is often referred to as a "negative" emotion. Many persons are not comfort-able feeling anger and seek to suppress it in the interest of har-mony and accommodation. Paradoxically, by such efforts people increase their likelihood of expressing anger dysfunctionally. When people suppress anger, or even repress it, it does not disappear; it is left to work its way indirectly, like a force under-ground. It may express itself in very rationalized statements, rec-ognized only in the impossible and recurring problems that follow in their wake. There may be episodic outbursts of anger followed by gre~t anxiety and remorse, forming a cycle of conflict. Other persons may use anger much more overtly, as a domi-nating force. In them anger is a trademark, emerging frequently with few inhibitions. It may even become crystallized in ways of viewing the world--as evil, inconvenient, incompetent, and so forth. Either extreme--expressing anger frequently or habitually suppressing it--may lead to the development of a clinically sig-nificant syndrome for which professional therapy is indicated. Along with such destructive potential, anger has many posi-tive aspects that we shall point out. Moreover, there are proactive ways to deal constructively with deleterious anger in everyday life. Behavioral therapies have been demonstrated to be very effec- Paul Duckro PhD, Dr. Marjorie Kukor, and Jean Meier CSJ, PsyD, can be written to at St. Louis Behavioral Institute; 1129 Macldind Avenue; St. Louis, Missouri 63110. Review for Religious tive. For example, cognitive behavior therapy is effective in cases of uncontrolled anger, suppressed anger, simmering resentment, or cycles of angry outburst and fearful restraint. Typically it com-bines development of new skills, modification of dysfunctional beliefs, and exploration of past experiences that have shaped a person's thoughts and behaviors. More experiential approaches are effective too. In clinical practice these have been shown to improve the recognition, acknowledgment, and expression of anger, whether or not there is the opportunity to work through the anger interpersonally. Experiential therapies take many forms. Art, movement, and fan-tasy are common ways to explore and express anger. Painting and sculpturing are evocative media through which the source of someone's anger can be revealed. Color and form can often rep-resent anger that lies too deep for words. This therapy has long been used with children, but it is no less effective with adults who feel trapped in their own anger. Exercise and movement can express and diffuse angry feelings. Emotional energy is "con-verted" into physical energy rather than being "trapped" in psy-chological or physical symptoms. Fantasy allows people to express and then explore their powerful emotions in a safe way, even toward absent or deceased persons or toward the unseen God. The persons "work through" angry feelings, moving toward a new level of integration and wholeness. Experiential therapies are important when the anger is not even recognized, much less processed, as emotion. It is not unusual for anger to be experienced and expressed--and masked-- in intellectualized forms such as opinions and logical judgments. In such cases, working in a tactually receptive form of experien-tial therapy can release emotions otherwise effectively disguised as thoughts and verbalizations. For persons of faith, contemplative or meditational encounter with the anger has great potential, linking the psychological and spiritual aspects of healing. It is on this approach to anger man-agement that we focus here. For our purposes we will refer to it as inner work. Inner work is the interior correspondent of con, flict resolution. The essence of both is movement, as opposed to remaining stuck in resentment, bitterness, or cynicism. From the exterior perspective, the time given to inner work appears to be "doing nothing." In fact, this doing nothing is true only superficially. Inner work is an active and engaging process of Janua~y-Feb~'ualy 1997 Duckro, Kukor, and Meier ¯ Inner Work with Your Anger coming to terms with both the immediate stimulus for the anger and its deeper sources within. Synergistic with the more obvious activity of conflict resolution, engaging in inner work may provide the time needed for cooling off. Beyond such a practical benefit, this doing nothing is also the space in which one can reflect and make associations and thus prepare to move forward in relation-ships. It helps individuals to insure that they are not pinning their own issues onto someone else or substituting one-sided judgment for dialogue. Stages of Inner Work Inner work with anger involves several stages. The first appears so simple that it is often overlooked: the recognition that you are angry. This step requires regular self-examination, knowl-edge of the ways you may experience anger physically and psy-chologically, and alertness to how you customarily try to mask your anger. That regular self-examination is necessary only restates the obvious: if one does not look, one will not see. Knowing the variety of ways that people experience anger increases the odds that you will recognize it. Anger is, of course, an emotion that people experience directly, but it can also be uncovered in behaviors, thoughts, verbalizations, and bodily reac-tions. Individuals will have characteristic ways in which their anger is masked, expressed indirectly, or expressed passively. Becoming aware of these patterns of human response, you will more likely recognize your own anger under such guises as logi-cal argument, social withdrawal, passive resistance, depressed mood, and spiritualization. If you do not recognize your anger, it cannot be channeled or transformed. Anger that is not experienced or expressed directly is not easily unmasked. Gruff exteriors can hide from the indi-viduals themselves an anger that is obvious to everyone else; so can a smile, and so can solicitousness. For you to relate to such a "shy" anger within yourself may be compared to relating to some-one who is reluctant to come forward. The unmasking must not be done forcefully, or hurtfully. Imagineextending your hand to the anger within, with reassurance that there is no need to hide. In this invitation the anger is reassured that it is seen as a legiti-mate emotion with a reason for being which is important for you to understand. Review fi~r Religious The simple power of recognizing your anger (we might call it awareness) lies in the fact that merely paying it attention changes the anger at once. This phenomenon, the power of simple obser-vation to transform what it observes, is well recognized, not only in behavioral but even in physical science. It can be found in var-ious forms also in our spiritual tradition. From earlier teachers we know the concept that to hold the true name of anything or any-one is to have power over it. We learn that the desert fathers and mothers taught their spiritual children first to name their demons.St. Teresa of Avila taught us that, if anything is embraced in love, it already begins to be transformed. To be true to this way of proceeding, we must remind ourselves that the power does not lie in trying to manipulate or control the anger. In each case, as in the example of dealing with "shy" anger, there is an encounter with the anger. Encounter implies relationship, interaction, and the potential for mutual change: the anger also has something to say. The second stage of inner work with anger may be described as bringing the anger inside yourself. Unpacking that metaphor is not easy; not all of its meaning will be captured in any one exposition. It is already evident that the first and second stages are diametrically opposed to what is often a reflexive response to strong, unwanted anger--trying to get rid of it. We turn to a familiar fairy tale to shed more light on the power of bringing the anger inside. Recall the story of "The Three Little Pigs." Imagine being one of the little pigs barricaded in the last house, the one made of brick. Anger at first may seem like,the big bad wolf howling menacingly outside the door. You shake within, behind the barred door and locked windows. To be exposed to such a monster would be certain death. If matters continue in this way, there can be no happy end-ing-- at best there is stalemate. You know the pigs' solution, and in a way it is related to what we will suggest. But let us modify it in the interest of love and mutual growth. In a feat reserved for imagery, imagine yourself inviting that wolf in. Already, simply to enter the house, the big wolf must become small, at least small Inner work is an active and engaging process of coming to terms with both the immediate stimulus for the anger and its deeper sources within. JanuaJ3,-FebJvtal3, 1997 D_.~ckro~ Kukor~ and Meier * Inner Work with Your Anger enough to fit through the very same door which you use. From that time the wolf already becomes more your equal; the bad wolf becomes your guest. Your fear calms down to prudent caution. Anger, upon being brought inside, begins the dialogue, furthers mutual understanding, and allows you to listen to the message-- which apparently some part of you thought was important enough to arouse such a furor. The third stage consists of continuing your association with the anger. This is the dialogue, and the very heart of inner work with anger. Although associating with your anger must of neces-sity be a free-flowing process, with content unique to yourself, it is useful to consider the general material you might encounter. The material of association might be divided into old and current issues. Old issues are the recurrent themes that come up again and again in anyone's life. Much of the message of any intense "negative" emotion has to do with these recurring themes. A popular way of conceptualizing this idea has been called the 90/10 rule. It suggests that, in understanding the message of strong feeling, very little (10 percent) has to do with what seems to be obvious, the matter on which you are focused. The greater part (90 percent) arises from old issues that have been reawak-ened by the current circumstances. Imagine a detonator: a small and harmless charge sets off a much larger and destructive explo-sion, a cache of dynamite for example. Obviously, the great positive potential in associating with the anger is in learning to listen for the old issues which come up in the process. These old issues influence your perception as perva-sively as a pair of colored glasses affects your view of the world around. They color your interpretations and lead to a type of conditioned reality. You actually see what you expect to see. Unrecognized old issues lead to compulsive or addictive cycles of behavior. You perceive each new situation through lenses that transform it into an old familiar one. In turn, you bring up and apply old familiar responses to these new situations. Outcomes become more and more predictable. Imagine a traveling theater troupe picking up extra actors in each town. The players are dif-ferent, but the plots are always the same. With anger, bitterness, or resentment, there is a kind of cold comfort in having been right about the advent of unpleasant realities (while you conve-niently forget that often it is you who make them unpleasant). Such victories are P))rrhic, Finding the results familiar becomes Review for Religious for you (however unconsciously) more desirable than finding--or trying to make--the current reality pleasant. The rigid shape of such compulsive behavior is evident. To emphasize the importance of old issues is not to say that current issues are unimportant. On the contrary, as you recog-nize the anger, calm the anxiety, and listen for old issues, the cur-rent issues become more distinguishable and more manageable. The solutions that present themselves are likely to be effective for being rooted in your actual current situation instead of being autonomous repetitions of previous experiences. When you see current issues clearly, you under-stand them in terms of relationship rather than as someone else's problem affecting you. You see a problem as relational, a matter between or among the several concerned parties rather than in one or another person. Common sources of anger in the present include threats to self-esteem, feeling vulnerable, being cheated, receiv~ ing dishonest or indirect communication. When these problems are freed from the heavy bag-gage of the old, recurring themes, their substance remains but they become much lighter to carry. Consider, for example, a threat to self-esteem. A colleague is given attention for her successes. It seems to you that some of her ideas carrie from' conversations in which you played a part. There is resentment that she is in the spotlight and fear that no one will look to you for ideas in the future. The most power-ful factors in your emotional response to the situation lie in your previous experiences. If you have felt unappreciated, if you have been afraid to speak before others, if you have learned to feel that others do not take you seriously, if you have learned to deeply doubt your own value or your ability to succeed, you will feel burning anger at your dubiously accurate perception of a threat to your livelihood and reputation. If you are not good at pro-cessing and expressing anger, you will carry it as a tortuous con-flict within you, eating at body and mind, blocking the flow of spirit. On the other hand, if you can recognize the old issues for what they are, can avoid disparaging yourself for holding them, and then begin dealing with them directly, you will find within The great positive potential in associating with the anger is in learning to listen for the old issues which come up in the process. dO dTtttltta13,-Febrtttlty 1997 Duckro, Kukor, and Meier ¯ Inner Work with Your Anger yourself the energy for doing so. You will assess more clearly how serious the immediate threat is. From that assessment you can gauge the strength of the confrontation and discussion you must have with your colleague. If you are not.skilled at assertive expres-sion, you may determine a course of action to improve such skills. The problem is resolvable. The actual method of associating with your anger requires some elaboration. An essential component is to calm yourself down. The failure to calm down, especially to calm down your cognitive activity, heightens the risk of repeating a version of the old issues that tend to inflate your angry response. Physiological calming facilitates cognitive calming, and both allow the pro-duction of fresh associations. It is important to distinguish this type of calming from sup-pressing the anger or avoiding the current issues. The idea is not to become suddenly and inexplicably blissful. The aim is simply to be present to the anger--bringing it in, seeing it for what it is, and sorting out the old issues that are inflaming it. The most effective way to calm down is simply to become aware of your breathing and then to breathe gradually more slowly and deeply, and from the diaphragm. No particular rate or pro-portion of breathing is necessary, but it is often helpful to allow each exhalation to proceed slowly, like a slow leak from a tire. With each long exhalation your heart rate will be slower, and you will feel more and more relaxed. Let yourself move as necessary to remain physically comfortable, and do not be afraid to take a big ungainly breath if you get out of rhythm; just come back to the slow, diaphragmatic breathing as soon as possible thereafter. The overall goal is a sense of effortlessness in the breathing, letting the tension and the struggle to control melt away, but feeling all the sensations of the body with even greater awareness. Focus then on the parts of the body that seem most active. You will find in these places the physical correlates of your anger, As you interact in this way with your physical sensations, move to the emotion underlying them. Remaining relaxed, let yourself feel the anger more fully, either directly as emotion or in its phys-ical manifestations. Now that it is allowed to enter within your relaxed self, it will no longer be overpowering as you contemplate it. Call it by name with your inner voice, softly and repeatedly. As you do so, remain calmly aware and allow your mind to produce the next thought, feeling, image, or memory. Accept that next Review for Religious association without judgment, and then focus on it. Continue the process in just this way until you reach an association that seems new and striking a.nd that requires more time. Stay with it for a 16nger time, just holding it in mind. Other thoughts and feelings will weave themselves around it. If you find yourself excessively dis-tracted, try writing.down your thoughts, feelings, or sensations, associating further with each one as you write. In this process of free association, you are opening doors within you. Areas which have been blocked off by shame or will-fulness may become accessible. Some of these areas may be unpleasant, exposing feelings that are painful. These you must bring to spiritual direction, prayer, intimate friends, or psy-chotherapy for support in working through them to new life. In the course of such work, you move toward oneness within; this is the essence of the integrity you seek. You see yourself more hon-estly and clearly, and you see also what is being touched within you. What you must do becomes more clear. The last stage is taking the anger to relationships.° Although our focus in this essay has been on inner work, this inner work leads to interpersonal interaction. It is in the movement from intrapersonal exploration to the interpersonal resolution of anger that we avoid individualism and act for justice and peace in our personal worlds. These personal worlds, in any particular life or set of circumstances, may range from the grand scale of interna-tional diplomacy to the intimate relationship of two persons. This inner work, then, is not an alternative to external work, but is the basis from which to move toward others. In inner work we take time to explore thoroughly .the nature of our own anger, with-holding action until we have taken the beam from our own eye. Upon so doing, when we do act we are much less likely to return evil for evil. We are more likely to be able to collaborate with God in turning all things to the good, for ourselves and others. Relational Responses In discussing this stage in which we take the anger to rela-tionship, it is useful to highlight the basic choices with which we are faced. Our choices determine whether and how much our response will further a relationship. In coming to terms with any strong "negative" emotion, we are faced with such choices, lead-ing to greater or lesser connection with others. Januaty-Febtvlaty 1997 Duckro, Kukor, and Meier ¯ Inner Work with Your Anger The mutuality required for integration rests ultimately on dialogue, people expressing their own feelings and desires and listening to one another. Y2 At its worst, anger polarizes. The participants separate into factions whose interests seem mutually opposed. Anger so expe-rienced leads to stronger or longer-lasting feelings of hatred and resentment, and to behaviors aimed at the injury or destruction bf the other parties. We easily see such hot or cold wars on the broad and somewhat anonymous levels of local, national, and interna-tional politics; they occur just as often, however, on the smaller stages of our personal and professional lives. Somewhat more benign, but still only minimally relational, is what we might call parallel play. In this live-and-let-live stance, there is no intention to hurt the other parties, but neither is there much sense of the common or universal good, and there is no intimate interaction. Farther along the continuum, we can indicate a point of compromise. This term is unfortunately not held in high esteem. What some people see as a reasonable compromise, many others see as "giving in," collaborating with evil; in fact, they see the compromiser as "compromised"-- or, at best, wishy-washy. However, com-promise (literally: putting forth, together) can be actually a high-level response with the potential for build-ing a better relationship out of previous anger and conflict. The partners in conflict become sensitive to each other's agendas and to opportunities for their mutual benefit in a common good. The arrangement might be unsteady, but continued dialogue in this spirit leads to change, however slow it might seem to those who prefer war, personal or otherwise, as a means of change. On any given day, compromise may be all the relationality we can muster. Nevertheless, its regular practice can move us along toward the point of integration. It is in the honest integra-tion of apparent opposites that we most fully participate in ongo-ing creation. Both compromise and integration must be and remain, opposed to syncretism, in which each side is reduced to being a lesser entity than it was. Integration requires the full pres-ence of both parties, each maintaining--and even realizing more fully--its own identity, but also coming together to form, from an Review Jbr Religious appreciation of their essential unifies and commonalities of inter-est, a new whole never before experienced. To accomplish such a union requires freshness of experience: two persons seeing each other as if for the first time. Obviously, the ideal is challenging and not easily reached. It is best to consider it a process that incor-porates the letting-go of egoism, that sense of self which empha-sizes self-protection and personal rights at the expense of openness and intimacy. It is analogous to the process of inculturation in evangelization presented by Pope John Paul II and articulated eloquently in the documents of General Congregation 34 of the Society of Jesus. The mutuality required for integration rests ulti-mately on dialogue, people expressing their own feelings and desires and listening to one another. Words are a poor medium to express such matters, but they are often the best means we have. In love, they are enough. At this level of relationship, anger has been transformed. It is now not merely a difficult emotion to be managed, but an impetus to new creation. Of such dialogue--two or more persons allowing their center of focus to be between or among themselves rather than within any one of them--it may truly be said that the reign of God is there. Forgiveness and reconciliation are experienced in a fresh way. Old hurts are not forgotten, but now are embodied in the new whole. They are used to create a new way of understanding which, rather than suppressing them, coopts them for the good. Taking care of oneself is redefined, as self has been redefined, beyond the limits of the corporeal body and one's personal psy-chological history. The well-being of any other person comes grad-ually to be seen as vitally important to one's own self. The Contemplative Stance This coming together in integration is certainly not without much pain and difficulty. More often than not, it seems that the creation of a new whole from disparate positions is impossible. Nevertheless, it is this apparent impossibility that in fact calls us to a new something. There is a tradition, among shamans of so-called primitive religions, that iust such apparently impossible situations signal, often in a sacred dream, the opportunity to advance to a new level of spiritual understanding. In our Christian tradition we may understand this new creation as furthering cor-poral realization of the mystical body of Christ. .~mlttaly-Febrttal3, 1997 Duckro, Kukor, and Meier o" Inner Work with Your Anger A contemplative stance in life facilitates the recognition and acceptance of opportunities' for integration as we work through strong feelings of anger. Such a contemplative stance does not imply or require a cloistered vocation; it is simply a willingness to become ever more aware of what is happening within us and around us. It is furthered by the practice of certain disciplines such as frequent self-examination, centering prayer, and medita-tive relaxation. An image passed on by Suzanne Zuercher OSB expresses the nature of being contemplative very well. Imagine holding a bird in your cupped hands. Hold it too tightly and the bird will be crushed; too loosely and the bird flies away. So it is to be present to ourselves and others. In such contemplation God, divine Mystery, is found truly in all things. All the events of life, without exception, are material for the spiritual journey. There is no need to avoid or suppress dis-tractions or strong emotions; there is only the call to work with them honestly. An ideal, of course, is a distant marker. As with ship and lighthouse, we hope not so much to find ourselves there as to be guided by its light. In the end the stuff of our growth is not found in our perfection, but in our flaws. Stumbling blocks become stepping stones, fissures become our footholds. Honest reflecting on the disruptive emotions that rise unbidden in us, and on our failures in handling them for the good, keep us rooted humbly in the truth of our lives. This truth, however unlovely it may seem, is the sure and only foundation for realizing the power of God working in us, From there we move closer to joy and compassion, holy indiffer-ence and equanimity, and become people for others. We find love. Review for Religious DENISE M. CALLAGHAN On Letting Go l~aan still see you sitting across the room from me, the light of e lamp highlighting your silver hair, your blue eyes still filled with life. You talked of how they were "putting you out," try-ing to get you to come to the motherhouse infirmary. And the best reason they could give you? They were worried about you because you seemed to be forgetful. You were not buying that, you told me. You kept insisting that you knew what you were doing, that you were not forgetful or careless about little matters of safety. I tried to suggest that there could be episodes you were not aware of. If you had been aware, there would be no prob-lem- but not being aware that you were not aware could be seri-ous. I was not just playing with words. I tried to give you examples. I tried to ease your dread of being uprooted. I hope I helped just a little, anyway. I thought of you often after you left. I found myself praying that you would be able to let go. So much of life is a matter of let-ting go. None of us does it lightly or easily. We are clingers by nature, I think. Even as infants we fasten our fingers around lit-tle baubles and hold on with surprising strength. Paul talks about that in some of his Epistles. "When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child . . ." (1 Co 13:11). I think (can we really remember it all now?) that it was not always easy to put aside the things of the child and become the responsible adult. Somehow, however awk-wardly, we did it. Sometimes it is not all pain--if the letting go of the old, famil-iar some thing, or some place, or some one means the reaching out Denise M. Callaghan SSND writes to us from 6401 North Charles Street; Baltimore, Maryland 21212. 1997 Callagban ¯ On Letting Go What a beautiful gift we offer one another when we truly listen! Y6 to some one new, or some place new, or some thing new that sat-isfies and delights us. But there are those letting go's that are just that: all pain. There is no exchange; there is an emptying out, a hollowing out, a hurt, a loneliness, a void. Some of us literally break under the strain of it. Some of us do not break, but we become bitter and withdrawn. Some of us bluff our way through or somehow just bury the ache. Some of us, quietly and with great wisdom, simply let go--and then go on. What a great grace! No matter who we are, no matter how well we do what we do, we will all need from time to time to be able to let go: ¯ the older for the younger, ¯ the familiar for the new and the different, ¯ the surety of the tried and the true for the promise of the untried and the possible, ¯ the mellowed for the freshly cured, ¯ the wisdom of experience for the vision and the dream of the not-yet-chanced. It cannot be done lightly, nor should it be. Wisdom cautions weighing and measuring, reflectively letting go, effectively hold-ing on. We need to pray that the Spirit of wis-dom will inform us. We need to be attentive listeners to the movement of the Spirit in our own hearts and to trust that message. We also need to pray to be good listeners one to another. No one of us is so informed that our own judgment is always best. So we listen and weigh our view again, in light of someone else's wisdom and insight, There is a courtesy we owe one another, and a respect, and an esteem. We listen to each other, not dismissing the line of rea-soning, but attentively pondering it. What a beautiful gift we offer one another when we truly lis-ten! It is rare that we really do this. It can be singularly painful to someone when we do not do it, as when one who over a span of years has been looked up to as wise and judicious, insightful and intuitive, now senses that her views are being suddenly and sum-marily dismissed by younger members of the community. The real pain here is the feeling she has, upon seeing her remarks mentally brushed aside or not even fairly listened to, that she her-self is being discarded. This kind of not listening can go the other way, too. Someone Review for Religious young and presumably inexperienced touches deftly and wisely the very core of the issue and is merely smiled at as though youth's inexperience cannot possibly know anything that is truly perti-nent and helpful. All of us, of course, are painfully aware that most wisdom seems to come only by hindsight. Wisely did St. Augustine pray often for the grace of a "listening heart." We do indeed have to try our best to speak truth as we perceive it. Beyond that, we need the grace to be able to let go and try to pick up the truth in the words of others. Sometimes the need to let go can concern only myself: ¯ the death of a loved'one when I cannot even imagine living my life apart from that person, ¯ the loss of a friend in some painful misunderstanding that somehow cannot seem to be remedied, ¯ the diminishment and inability brought on by serious illness or aging, ¯ the hurt when politics decides who gets the promotion or the credit or the acclaim. One other demand on us individually from time to time will be the letting go of memories. We need never let go of the very heartening memories that enrich us and that are among our most precious treasures. We thank God over and over for those times, those persons, those events that set our hearts to singing at their every recall. But we do need to let go, with God's help, when the memory is painful and the whole episode shouts of injustice or rash judgments or false accusations or just plain dislike. It is right to try to remedy the wrong, particularly if it is done to someone else. Jesus asks each of us to be a speaker of truth. But when every effort fails and every avenue of remedy is sealed off, we need sim-ply to let go and to go on. It is not easy. Yet holding on and nurs-ing the grudge can be utterly destructive. We give the victory to the demon of darkness and we hurt God's cause. Ther