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The Playground, almost unknown at the beginning of the century, has become widely recognized as an essential community feature. Educators, judges, church leaders and high government officials testify to the value of playgrounds and their contribution to city, town and village life. The expenditures of funds for acquiring, equipping and conducting playgrounds have been justified on the basis of contributing to the fun, safety, health and character of the children. These are among the chief benefits which persons using the playgrounds receive from them, and they may be expected from every well-developed playground, conducted under competent leadership. Public recreation agencies today are striving to broaden their programs, but are, in some instances, handicapped because of small operating budgets and, as in the case of Houston, Texas, difficulty in securing necessary materials for building facilities. The problem involved in this manuscript is to make an analysis of the City Recreation program of Houston, Texas. A lead-up to the program and its analysis will first be dealt with. The program itself will be covered in the latter part of this thesis. In compiling material for this thesis, books, bulletins, periodicals, personal observations and interviews were used. This thesis is confined to the metropolitan area of Houston, Texas, with limited reference made to other areas.

The M. H. Ross Papers contain information pertaining to labor, politics, social issues of the twentieth century, coal mining and its resulting lifestyle, as well as photographs and audio materials. The collection is made up of five different accessions; L2001-05, which is contained in boxes one through 104, L2002-09 in boxes 106 through 120, L2006-16 in boxes 105 and 120, L2001-01 in boxes 120-121, and L2012-20 in boxes 122-125. The campaign materials consist of items from the 1940 and 1948 political campaigns in which Ross participated. These items include campaign cards, posters, speech transcripts, news clippings, rally materials, letters to voters, and fliers. Organizing and arbitration materials covers labor organizing events from "Operation Dixie" in Georgia, the furniture workers in North Carolina, and the Mine-Mill workers in the Western United States. Organizing materials include fliers, correspondence, news articles, radio transcripts, and some related photos. Arbitration files consist of agreements, decisions, and agreement booklets. The social and political research files cover a wide time period (1930's to the late 1970's/early 1980's). The topics include mainly the Ku Klux Klan, racism, Communism, Red Scare, red baiting, United States history, and literature. These files consist mostly of news and journal articles. Ross interacted with coal miners while doing work for the United Mine Workers Association (UMWA) and while working at the Fairmont Clinic in West Virginia. Included in these related files are books, news articles, journals, UMWA reports, and coal miner oral histories conducted by Ross. Tying in to all of the activities Ross participated in during his life were his research and manuscript files. He wrote numerous newspaper and journal articles on history and labor. Later, as he worked for the UMWA and at the Fairmont Clinic, he wrote more in-depth articles about coal miners, their lifestyle, and medical problems they faced (while the Southern Labor Archives has many of Ross's coal mining and lifestyle articles, it does not have any of his medical articles). Along with these articles are the research files Ross collected to write them, which consist of notes, books, and newspaper and journal articles. In additional to his professional career, Ross was adamant about documenting his and his wife's family history in the oral history format. Of particular interest are the recordings of his interviews with his wife's family - they were workers, musicians, and singers of labor and folk songs. Finally, in this collection are a number of photographs and slides, which include images of organizing, coal mining (from the late 19th through 20th centuries), and Appalachia. Of note is a small photo album from the 1930s which contains images from the Summer School for Workers, and more labor organizing. A few audio items are available as well, such as Ross political speeches and an oral history in which Ross was interviewed by his daughter, Jane Ross Davis in 1986. All photographic and audio-visual materials are at the end of their respective series. ; Myron Howard "Mike" Ross was born November 9, 1919 in New York City. He dropped out of school when he was seventeen and moved to Texas, where he worked on a farm. From 1936 until 1939, Ross worked in a bakery in North Carolina. In the summer of 1938, he attended the Southern School for Workers in Asheville, North Carolina. During the fall of 1938, Ross would attend the first Southern Conference on Human Welfare in Birmingham, Alabama. He would attend this conference again in 1940 in Chattanooga, Tennessee. From 1939 to 1940, Ross worked for the United Mine Workers Non-Partisan League in North Carolina, working under John L. Lewis. He was hired as a union organizer by the United Mine Workers of America, and sent to Saltville, Virginia and Rockwood, Tennessee. In 1940, Ross ran for a seat on city council on the People's Platform in Charlotte, North Carolina. During this time, he also married Anne "Buddie" West of Kennesaw, Georgia. From 1941 until 1945, Ross served as an infantryman for the United States Army. He sustained injuries near the Battle of the Bulge in the winter of 1944. From 1945 until 1949, Ross worked for the International Union of Mine, Mill and Smelter Workers, then part of the Congress of Industrial Organizations (CIO), as a union organizer. He was sent to Macon, Georgia, Savannah, Georgia and to Winston-Salem, North Carolina, where he worked with the United Furniture Workers Union. He began handling arbitration for the unions. In 1948, Ross ran for United States Congress on the Progressive Party ticket in North Carolina. He also served as the secretary for the North Carolina Progressive Party. Ross attended the University of North Carolina law school from 1949 to 1952. He graduated with honors but was denied the bar on the grounds of "character." From 1952 until 1955, he worked for the Mine, Mill and Smelter Workers as a union organizer, first in New Mexico (potash mines) and then in Arizona (copper mines). From 1955 to 1957, Ross attended the Columbia University School of Public Health. He worked for the United Mine Workers of America Welfare and Retirement Fund from 1957 to 1958, where he represented the union in expenditure of health care for mining workers. By 1958, Ross began plans for what would become the Fairmont Clinic, a prepaid group practice in Fairmont, West Virginia, which had the mission of providing high quality medical care for miners and their families. From 1958 until 1978, Ross served as administrator of the Fairmont Clinic. As a result of this work, Ross began researching coal mining, especially coal mining lifestyle, heritage and history of coal mining and disasters. He would interview over one hundred miners (coal miners). Eventually, Ross began writing a manuscript about the history of coal mining. Working for the Rural Practice Program of the University of North Carolina from 1980 until 1987, Ross taught in the medical school. M. H. Ross died on January 31, 1987 in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. ; Digitization of the M. H. Ross Papers was funded by the National Historical Publications and Records Commission.

The Eastern Airlines Collection, 1927-2008 (bulk 1965-2008), consists of news clippings, press releases, newsletters, annual reports, monthly reports, correspondence, memoranda, photographs, slides, an early scrapbook (or day book), artifacts (promotional items) and audiovisual materials. This collection mainly provides insight into publicity and outreach efforts at Eastern Airlines, but also its history, charitable work, and day-to-day operations. The materials were accumulated by Carolyn Lee Wills, who worked in the Public Relations Department of Eastern's Southern Regional Office from 1965 until 1987. ; Carolyn Lee Wills graduated from Georgia State University, where she studied journalism, history and speech. She also participated in many extra-curricular activities including Panhellenic Council, Delta Zeta Sorority, and yearbook. Before she began her work at Eastern Airlines, she traveled extensively throughout Europe, Asia, North and South America, Jamaica, the Bahamas, and Bermuda.; In 1965, Wills joined Eastern Airlines as a Representative of Women's Activities. In this role, she interpreted the company's program to women by working in the fields of fashion, radio, television, public relations, and promotions. In 1971, Wills became made Regional Manager of Public Relations. Eastern Airlines closed its Atlanta offices in November 1973, but found it difficult to cover their public relations needs in Atlanta from their headquarters in Miami. Four months after closing, Wills was re-hired by Eastern to manage the Southern Division covering Atlanta to Tokyo. While employed by Eastern Airlines, Wills served on many boards including American Women in Radio and Television, Georgia State University Alumni Association, and was a national representative of Delta Zeta Sorority. In 1966, she married attorney Charles H. Wills. The earliest incarnation of Eastern Airlines was Pitcairn Aviation, founded in 1927, which was the U.S. Postal Service contractor flying from New York to Atlanta. In 1930, the carrier was sold to North American Aviation owner Clement Keys and was renamed Eastern Air Transport. It soon added passenger routes and adopted the name Eastern Air Lines. Throughout the pre-World War II era, Eastern dominated passenger travel and air transport along the Atlantic coast, including the introduction of one-day service from New York to Miami in 1932. Famed pilot Eddie Rickenbacker bought the company in 1938 and was closely identified with it until his 1963 retirement. During the air travel boom of the 1950s and 1960s, Eastern Airlines grew into one of the ""Big Four"" United States carriers, enhancing its status as the lead air travel carrier on domestic east coast flights with the introduction of air shuttle service in 1961. Shuttle service was created as an alternative to bus routes and included hourly flights from Atlanta to Washington D.C., New York, and Boston. During this time, Eastern Airlines also expanded international service to Mexico, Bermuda, Puerto Rico, and Canada. Under the leadership of former astronaut Frank Borman (hired as an advisor in 1969, he became Chief Executive Officer in 1975), Eastern Airlines enjoyed continued successes in the industry until the enactment of the Airline Deregulation Act of 1978.; Beginning with Eastern's early U.S. Postal Service government contract, the company had relied upon the regulated and protective policies governing the airline industry. Without government protection, Eastern's profits began to make a downward turn that eventually culminated in the selling of the company to Texas Air International, headed by Frank Lorenzo. Following deregulation, Lorenzo was able to purchase multiple airlines including Continental, Frontier, New York Air, and Eastern. To cut costs in the midst of declining profits, Lorenzo asked Eastern's union employees to take massive pay cuts in wages and benefits. Union workers refused to accept Lorenzo's demands and opted to go on strike. By claiming bankruptcy in 1989, Lorenzo was able to hire non-union workers to fill the jobs of striking employees. Lorenzo took his demands a step further when he asked the machinists' union to take a pay cut, which resulted in another strike that dealt the final blow to any hope that Eastern Airlines would recover lost profits. In 1991, Eastern Airlines was permanently grounded. Eastern's main hubs in Atlanta and Miami were taken over by various competitors and its concourses in New York and Newark were demolished. ; Personally identifiable information has been redacted from this item.

The Eastern Airlines Collection, 1927-2008 (bulk 1965-2008), consists of news clippings, press releases, newsletters, annual reports, monthly reports, correspondence, memoranda, photographs, slides, an early scrapbook (or day book), artifacts (promotional items) and audiovisual materials. This collection mainly provides insight into publicity and outreach efforts at Eastern Airlines, but also its history, charitable work, and day-to-day operations. The materials were accumulated by Carolyn Lee Wills, who worked in the Public Relations Department of Eastern's Southern Regional Office from 1965 until 1987. ; Carolyn Lee Wills graduated from Georgia State University, where she studied journalism, history and speech. She also participated in many extra-curricular activities including Panhellenic Council, Delta Zeta Sorority, and yearbook. Before she began her work at Eastern Airlines, she traveled extensively throughout Europe, Asia, North and South America, Jamaica, the Bahamas, and Bermuda.; In 1965, Wills joined Eastern Airlines as a Representative of Women's Activities. In this role, she interpreted the company's program to women by working in the fields of fashion, radio, television, public relations, and promotions. In 1971, Wills became made Regional Manager of Public Relations. Eastern Airlines closed its Atlanta offices in November 1973, but found it difficult to cover their public relations needs in Atlanta from their headquarters in Miami. Four months after closing, Wills was re-hired by Eastern to manage the Southern Division covering Atlanta to Tokyo. While employed by Eastern Airlines, Wills served on many boards including American Women in Radio and Television, Georgia State University Alumni Association, and was a national representative of Delta Zeta Sorority. In 1966, she married attorney Charles H. Wills. The earliest incarnation of Eastern Airlines was Pitcairn Aviation, founded in 1927, which was the U.S. Postal Service contractor flying from New York to Atlanta. In 1930, the carrier was sold to North American Aviation owner Clement Keys and was renamed Eastern Air Transport. It soon added passenger routes and adopted the name Eastern Air Lines. Throughout the pre-World War II era, Eastern dominated passenger travel and air transport along the Atlantic coast, including the introduction of one-day service from New York to Miami in 1932. Famed pilot Eddie Rickenbacker bought the company in 1938 and was closely identified with it until his 1963 retirement. During the air travel boom of the 1950s and 1960s, Eastern Airlines grew into one of the ""Big Four"" United States carriers, enhancing its status as the lead air travel carrier on domestic east coast flights with the introduction of air shuttle service in 1961. Shuttle service was created as an alternative to bus routes and included hourly flights from Atlanta to Washington D.C., New York, and Boston. During this time, Eastern Airlines also expanded international service to Mexico, Bermuda, Puerto Rico, and Canada. Under the leadership of former astronaut Frank Borman (hired as an advisor in 1969, he became Chief Executive Officer in 1975), Eastern Airlines enjoyed continued successes in the industry until the enactment of the Airline Deregulation Act of 1978.; Beginning with Eastern's early U.S. Postal Service government contract, the company had relied upon the regulated and protective policies governing the airline industry. Without government protection, Eastern's profits began to make a downward turn that eventually culminated in the selling of the company to Texas Air International, headed by Frank Lorenzo. Following deregulation, Lorenzo was able to purchase multiple airlines including Continental, Frontier, New York Air, and Eastern. To cut costs in the midst of declining profits, Lorenzo asked Eastern's union employees to take massive pay cuts in wages and benefits. Union workers refused to accept Lorenzo's demands and opted to go on strike. By claiming bankruptcy in 1989, Lorenzo was able to hire non-union workers to fill the jobs of striking employees. Lorenzo took his demands a step further when he asked the machinists' union to take a pay cut, which resulted in another strike that dealt the final blow to any hope that Eastern Airlines would recover lost profits. In 1991, Eastern Airlines was permanently grounded. Eastern's main hubs in Atlanta and Miami were taken over by various competitors and its concourses in New York and Newark were demolished.

The Committee on Curriculum Planning and Development of the National Association of Secondary School Principals has published a list of 10 objectives for secondary schools, known as the Ten Common and Essential Needs That All Youth Have in a Democratic Society. They are generally referred to as The Ten Imperative Needs of Youth. 1: All youth need to develop saleable skills and those understandings and attitudes that make the worker an intelligent and productive participant in economic life. To this end, most youth need supervised work experience as well as education in the skills and knowledge of their occupation. 2: All youth need to develop and maintain good health and physical fitness. 3: All youth need to understand the rights and duties of the citizen of a democratic society, and to be diligent and competent in the performance of their obligations as members of the community and citizens of the state and nation. 4: All youth need to understand the significance of the family for the individual and society and the conditions conducive to successful family life. 5: All youth need to know how to purchase and use goods and services intelligently, understanding both the values received by the consumer and the economic consequences of their acts. 6: All youth need to understand the methods of science, the influence of science on human life, and the main scientific facts concerning the nature of the world and of man. 7: All youth need opportunities to develop their capacities to appreciate beauty in literature, art, music, and nature. 8: All youth need to be able to use their leisure time well and to budget it wisely, balancing activities that yield satisfaction to the individual with those that are socially useful. 9: All youth need to develop respect for other persons, to grow in their insight into ethical values and principles, and to be able to live and work cooperatively with others. 10: All youth need to grow in their ability to think rationally, to express their thoughts clearly, and to read and listen with understanding. This study surveys and attempts to evaluate the current practices of the Logan City High School program in the light of local philosophy of the school; summarizes these views, and makes recommendations for continuous development of the curriculum improvement program.

A history which records the weaknesses and failures of society may serve as its conscience. The history of Twenty-fifth Street in Ogden, Utah is that kind of history. It reminds us that it is possible for evil influences to prey upon society to the extent that it weakens and becomes vulnerable to the influence. First the people became passive. They began to feel that the influence was there and there was little they could do about it. They then began ignoring it as if by doing so it would cease to exist. But it didn't disappear. Instead it grew and became so strong that eventually they were bound by its power. This is the story of Ogden's notorious "Two-Bit" Street. Serving as the gateway into Ogden City for those who stepped off the train, it began to cater to the appetites and desires of the people who traveled through Utah. It all began in 1869 when the railroads were joined at Promontory. Gestations of prostitution, gambling, and narcotics (opium) were the direct results of the absorption of Corinne and many other railroad towns along the way by Ogden. Realizing this, the people of Ogden struggled at first to prevent the ominous spectre haunting the city; but they soon became passive, and it wasn't long until the officials of the city were faced with the choice of either cleaning up the street or allowing it to remain. These authorities learned that by befriending those underworld leaders they could enjoy political strength enough to maintain themselves in power. Finally, after eighty years of underworld prosperity, heroes who were courageous enough to challenge this power structure began to take steps to eradicate this influence. Uncertain of how it would work out and fearful of being politically and professionally destroyed, they nevertheless fervently attacked. Some were put down immediately; some made attacks, retreating when the pressure became great, later to return and renew the battle again. At first these were not the top leaders of the community, they were the men and women of the sheriff's and police departments. Finally, in the early 1950's these two departments began to harmonize their efforts; and with a change in leadership in city government, the crushing blow was made to Ogden's notorious "Two-Bit" Street. What remains of the Street today is a partial skeleton of the past.

Speech given at the Statewide Civil Rights Informational Meeting reflecting on the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 ; FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE Excerpts of Remarks of Hon. Brooks Hays at the Statewide Civil Rights Informational Meeting Hotel Marion Little Rock, Arkansas December 7, 1964 10:30 A.M. No invitation I have had this year has brought me more gratification than the one to participate in this meeting. I have often referred in talks outside the State to my beloved home city. Certainly within the State and within the City I have a greater consciousness of my affection for and loyalty to Arkansas. I might add as a personal reflection although it is hardly relevant that I think I can be more helpful now that the pressures of political considerations are cast aside. The Civil Rights Act of 1964 has become the law. Quite aside from any differences over details or the wisdom of National legislation in a field that many in the South have regarded as outside Federal jurisdiction, we must accept it as the law of the land. Since we are a law-abiding people, it is the part of wisdom to go about the business of determining how best to comply. I believe this attitude of compliance reflects the best thinking of Southern leadership. Just what is required in the way of technical procedures, I will leave largely to others and certainly, in this gathering, it is not necessary to labor the point that I have just made. Let me speak of moral considerations. I recall two comments that I would like to share with you. One was in a splendid address to the Arkansas State Society in Washington, D.C. in 1961 by Charles Murphy of El Dorado.

Speech reflecting on recent Congressional election defeat ; -8- in my own home city and I find there a great longing to resolve the school problem in an honorable way. I did receive 49 percent of the reported vote in my district and my leadership of the Baptist Convention appears to remain unimpaired. The holder of public office in the South faces a real challenge to his political survival if he tries to be anything other than an extremist on the race issue. Many of my Southern Baptist colleagues have expressed personal regrets over what happened to me, but some might be damaged if they made their position public. I would not want any one of them to be hurt by having my views imputed to them. Through the years I have made many deep Southern friendships and I am hesitant to put any strains on them now. One of the problems is that in the present climate of opinion in the South, the word "moderate" itself carries a good deal of prejudice. In the press conference I held on November 7, after returning to Washington, I expressed my own personal beliefs, but admitted the dangers involved in this position. As the New York Times story by Anthony Lewis quoted me, "I think the South suffers when a man like the Governor of Arkansas pillories men like me. I'm seeking a chance for Southern people themselves to do justice to the Negro. We've been obstructed in that because the extremists interpret anything you do as a move for integration. The tragedy is that you can't raise your voice now without having a label

Article about Brooks and Marion Hays' visit to South America in The Commission (Southern Baptist World Journal) ; Latin America Welcomes Good-Will Visitors During their good-will tour Brooks Hays (left), then president of the Southern Baptist Convention, and Mrs. Hays were presented to the congregation at First Baptist Church, Cali, Colombia, by Rev. Hugo Ruiz, pastor of the church and president of the Colombian Baptist Convention [photograph caption]. Shortly before his term as president of the Southern Baptist Convention expired, Brooks Hays and his wife made a two weeks' good-will tour of several Latin-American countries on behalf of the Foreign Mission Board and Southern Baptists. Included on their itinerary were Costa Rica, Colombia, Ecuador, and Peru. From each place Mr. and Mrs. Hays visited come reports that their contacts were profitable for Baptist work and for religious liberty in general. Their visit gave Baptists and other evangelicals in these four countries some of the best publicity they have had. Newspapers carried pictures and stories telling who Mr. Hays is and what he was doing in Latin America, as well as advertisements of services in which he spoke. Mr. Hays talked with heads of government and other government officials, including directors of the United States Information Service, ambassadors and other U. S. Embassy officials, and directors of the International Cooperation Administration (Point Four) program. "I encountered many encouraging signs and assurances for the strengthening of religious liberty through these conferences," he says. A new political leadership is emerging in many of the countries of South America, he reports, and these leaders are aware of the part their nations must play in world affairs. Hence, they are increasingly concerned for the rights of minority groups and they are insisting on freedom for all. "Baptists are a small minority in these countries," Mr. Hays reminds Southern Baptists, "and I think we Baptists in the United States have a hard time realizing what this means in areas that have not had a history of respect for individual rights." The day Mr. and Mrs. Hays spent in Bogota, capital of Colombia, is typical of that spent in each city on their itinerary. Arriving in the morning, they were met at the airport by an official from the U.S. Embassy, the pastor of the First Baptist Church, and Southern Baptist missionary couple. After a tour of important sections of the city, they were taken to their hotel for lunch and a short rest. Afterward, the Honorable John M. Cabot, U.S. Ambassador to Colombia, called at the hotel and conducted the party to the Embassy. While Mrs. Hays and a missionary wife met appointments elsewhere in the city, Mr. Hays spent the afternoon at the Embassy. In the evening he spoke before the combined congregations of the Baptist churches and missions in Bogotá, meeting in the auditorium of Central Baptist Church. He and his wife were presented with gifts on behalf of all Colombian Baptists. Following the service Mr. and Mrs. Hays were honored at a dinner party at the home of an Embassy official. Here again they made a strong impact for the Baptist cause in Colombia, missionaries report. In other cities receptions were held for the Southern Baptist and missionaries. (Continued on page 32) In Barranquilla, Mr. and Mrs. Hays were given a silver dish inscribed with names of the Baptist churches there [photograph caption]. Mr. and Mrs. Hays were met at the plane in Barranquilla, Colombia, by Rev. and Mrs. John N. Thomas, missionaries [photograph caption]. Mrs. Donald L. Orr and Hoke Smith, Jr., Southern Baptist missionaries, are shown greeting Mr. and Mrs. Hays at a reception in Cali [photograph caption]. Here are some of the three hundred Baptists who formed a motorcade to the Barranquilla airport to welcome Mr. and Mrs. Hays [photograph caption]. 16 (208) (209) 17

Coretta King, known best as Mrs. Martin Luther King, Jr., has been the new image of black womanhood for the black race since the days of the Montgomery bus boycott, which had its beginning on December 1, 1955. Mrs. King represents the new image of black womanhood because she is the first black woman projected into prominence by her husband. She is a follower in her husband's footsteps. She has taken up her husband's dream as her own and in the process has become a symbol in her own right. Statement of Purpose. The purpose of this study was to analyze and evaluate a speech entitled "Commencement Address" given by Mrs. King on June 1, 1971 at City College in New York. Criteria and Procedure. The criteria for rhetorical analysis of the speech "Commencement Address" was abstracted from Thomas R. Nilsen's "Interpretive Function of the Critic." Nilsen stated that the critic's function is to inquire into how the speaker is moving men and to what ends. He also said that the vital function of speech criticism is to state indirect implications of the speech in reference to man, ideas, and society. Therefore, three basic questions were raised by Nilsen: What is the speaker's concept of man? What is the speaker's concept of ideas? What is the speaker's concept of society? Conclusions: The following concepts of man were discovered in Mrs. King's address. Man is an individual who has power and force in the world. Man is responsible for preventing destruction in the world. Man is capable of historical action and understanding. Man is an individual who does not, at all times, face reality. Man is capable of making rational and irrational choices. Man is responsible for being honest with his fellow man. Man should not dehumanize his fellow man. Man is capable of making both wise and unwise decisions. Man is a being with a capacity for wisdom and rational choice. Man is responsible for eliminating racism, poverty, and war. Man is a being of intrinsic worth. Man is obligated to grow in understanding of himself and the world around him. The speaker's concept of ideas may be expressed this way: Youth will play a major role in determining in the future the success or failure of the democratic tradition. The creative thinking of individuals has been replaced by machines. New ideas and leadership will have to emerge in order to save our society from destruction. The following were observed about the speaker's concept of society: American society has failed to stand up to its democratic philosophy. American society is thing-centered instead of person-centered. Society must be rational in meeting the demands of students. Society can only be saved from destruction when students, faculty, and the older generation cooperate with each other. Because American society has allowed racism, poverty, and war to exist, she has participated in unorthodox behavior. Because students in society have fought to hold high the banner of freedom, they have participated in orthodox behavior.

Article in U.S. News and World Report based on excerpts from Hays' book A Southern Moderate Speaks ; Inside Story of Little Rock "Emerging community judgments were quickly recognized-the bayonets should come off those guns. It was an affront to the community that was not justified in the first place" for this situation rested on the white community. No efforts were made to help the Negroes put into leadership positions their most disciplined and wisest men and women. When a prosecution was begun a little while later under a city ordinance against NAACP officials, including a Negro Methodist minister, for what appeared to be technical violations, it only strengthened the position of the NAACP among Negroes. "Mrs. Bates has no large personal following among our people," said one of the Negro ministers, "but this sort of thing drives them in masses into her camp." The Negroes seemed eager at all times to appear to be just as friendly as ever with their individual white friends, but they stuck to their mental retreat and did not invite discussion. They were aware of the necessities of the situation, and there was a certain pathos in the severing of the pleasant contacts between individuals. McClinton called in October to ask me to see a committee of his group to discuss the future. With him were a Baptist minister and a retired mail carrier. They made clear their determination to do all within their power to prevent violence. The Negro people, they said, were united in this. Further, they thought that the white people should know that the Negroes were also united in thinking that their rights as defined by the United States district court should be protected, even if the troops had to stay. This meant that the nine students should continue in Central High. They hoped that the white people would not ask for troop withdrawal until it could be done with safety. I pointed out that the two races had a common interest here-if the school board kept the school open and obeyed court injunctions, both white and colored students should have adequate protection. This view is consistent with my opposition to military enforcement. I believed these three men as to the unanimity of Negro opinion on desegregation of Central High. Later, professional poll takers confirmed this judgment with irrefutable proof produced by their comprehensive local survey. Skeptical white leaders were convinced. The question whether Little Rock Negroes would seek mass integration is a different question. The people of Little Rock were largely inarticulate during the early days of the presence of federal troops at Central High. I made no effort to find out what the Administration had in mind as to withdrawal. No one could answer that question anyway. We had witnessed violence, and we breathed easier when strong men stood between our city's children and danger. White parents shared these anxieties, of course. They knew that violence directed toward Negro children would expose all to danger. I was a bit impatient during those days with some of the statements of partisans in other States who seemed to welcome a showdown. Had they known the extent of our anxieties I am sure they would have, in expressing their own convictions, omitted the "Let's you and him fight" overtones. We were too close to violence to find any enjoyment in outbursts of that kind. School Board's Side of Case In one of the several huddles of the 26 Chamber of Commerce former presidents, Superintendent Blossom and the six members of the school board were invited to participate, and they did a superb job of informing us of the extreme difficulties facing the administrators and faculty under court orders to teach nine Negro students in what was historically the all-white high school. Blossom spoke feelingly and convincingly. With a short dissertation on the local NAACP decision to rely on their legal rights, he dispelled any idea of an official closing of doors to the nine at that time, and his board sustained him. This, they argued, was the practical side of it. The board's critics have tried to interpret this consistent court-compliance policy as a thrusting of integration upon the people of Little Rock against their wishes. The record will not support that charge, as later action by the board proved. The hours spent by the 26 on these talks were fruitful. These outstanding civic leaders gained new understanding of the educational, sociological and legal phases of the problem. If some had not been convinced by newspaper editorials that yielding to extremists, by sending the Negroes home or closing Central High, would mean a strengthening of lawlessness, they were made fully aware of this point by Dr. Will Cooper, at that time chairman of the school board, and by Mr. Blossom. No one questioned for a moment that a majority of the people preferred the segregated schools. No one argued that the defeat by two of these directors of extremist opponents in a 1956 election carried any mandate to integrate. The issue appeared in clearer outlines every day: law and order as opposed to threats and pressures- chiefly from outside Little Rock. Emerging community judgments were quickly recognized -the bayonets should come off those guns. It was an affront to the community that was not justified in the first place. Military men are tough and they do not take chances, but we did not like that aspect of the policing one bit. The bayonets did come off, and, furthermore, the military men very quickly recognized that, while it might be weeks, maybe months, before all troops could go home, the strong display of power was no longer called for. Soldiers Leave-Tension Eases With the withdrawal of the last of the regular troops about Christmastime and the assignment of the task to the federalized Guard units of our own Arkansas men in greatly reduced strength, there was considerably less feeling about "militarization." The meetings of the 26-they have never adopted a name nor taken any steps toward formal organization-were occasionally devoted to related issues, such as the election of the governing board for the new city-manager form of government on November 5. All were eager to avoid the inclusion of the question of segregation in the election, so the month of October was a period of suspended judgment as to the next steps to be taken. Some sessions were solely to hear reports from those who were observing internal school conditions and to confer regarding measures to avoid a special session of the State's General Assembly, which would, unless the political climate changed, result either in closing Central High School altogether or penalties such as withdrawal of State aid. In view of the desire of some leading political figures who were quite indifferent to Little Rock's misfortune, there was every reason for our disquietude. Modern cities have often been confronted with hostile political forces originating in nonurban areas and injustices U. S. NEWS & WORLD REPORT, March 23, 1959 133

Part two of an interview with Maria Mendoza of Fitchburg, Massachusetts. Topics include: Her children, their education, and their work. Traditions she carries on from her Portuguese heritage. Her fondest memories. What it was like when she went to live in Portugal for a time, as a child. How she feels about living in Fitchburg now. ; 1 WAYNE LUCIER: Do you think Fitchburg has enough recreational facilities, let's say for your son? Like do they have enough basketball courts or stuff like this? MARY MENDOZA: I think Fitchburg, for a small city, it does very well, though. It's got the Coolidge Park, and it's got a college. It's got the Silver Lake Park. I know it's not much, but it's… you know, really Fitchburg isn't bad at all when it comes to that. If you want, you could keep it. They give us a chance on the… well, we got to thank Mayor Blackwell; he took $1.60 off the taxes. That's… it don't seem much, but it is. But I like the new, what they did with the $3 million that they came in to Fitchburg. The firemen is one of the few people that I really disliked, just the name of it. I know one and he's always [hollering] that he's going to get all he can get. He don't give a damn for the people. His name is [unintelligible - 00:00:54]. And yet, they always get – and the teachers, what are they going on strike for? Can you tell me? WAYNE LUCIER: Well… MARY MENDOZA: I thought the teachers – if anybody works under the government, they could strike. WAYNE LUCIER: No. MARY MENDOZA: They're doing it. They're not supposed to. They stop and figure that they get two months with special, you now, privileges, not insurance, things like that, and they get paid. What more do they want? When we struggle so much for a week, and some of the people now, they get two, three weeks. They make deal. They get this. They get that. Then we got to pay for it. So why don't people left things alone? I wish we'd go back to the, around the '45s. That was nice. Everybody had enough to eat. And everybody seemed to be happy and we look at a… still today, you look at the situation, it's like, oh, medicine, that the relief you are paying for, but now, this poor guy, and God have mercy on our world and help him do the right thing. WAYNE LUCIER: What are the names of your children and what kind of schooling did they have?2 MARY MENDOZA: Well, my [first] son, Carlos, he's an engineer, and he got a master's degree. And his little ones is Jeffrey and Michael. WAYNE LUCIER: And what's his occupation now? MARY MENDOZA: Well, he does, the guy, he works for the James River. WAYNE LUCIER: James River? MARY MENDOZA: Yeah. WAYNE LUCIER: Where? MARY MENDOZA: Well, he started at the biggest part of it is in Fitchburg, though. He goes out, like, South Carolina was where he originally was hired. From there, he goes to Connecticut and goes here and there. But that means his office is over here, in Fitchburg. WAYNE LUCIER: Is your husband a veteran of any kind of war or…? MARY MENDOZA: No. WAYNE LUCIER: And he was born where? MARY MENDOZA: In New Bedford, Mass. WAYNE LUCIER: Okay. Has the practice of your customs decreased? You know, something that your mother always done in your family, do you still retain it now or…? MARY MENDOZA: Well, there's still certain things like we go back to the, my grandmother. Because my mother, she was in this country, she was about 15 years old. So she always knows the special customs. Once in a while, I still like to cook the cornmeal bread, and mix with bread, things like that. She called that "going back." My husband's side, they never get out of the use of food that Portuguese people use, because in New Bedford, it's about 60 percent, so they keep there, very much the. it's not that different. A lot of fish, meat, we are big meat-eaters. The day I don't have meat, that's a day I'm hungry all day. WAYNE LUCIER: Well, you enjoy American foods, too, right? MARY MENDOZA: To me, I've always been… my favorite meal is steak. I was still on ham, gosh, I paid one more $77 for a little can of ham, and two pounds or three pieces of steak, little pieces like that, $2. I told them, "Gosh, you got to cut this down." But before, I used to have steak every day, at least once a day a steak, pork chops and. you 3 know. Now, you know, they call it a luxury. But once when you get old, I don't think you get as much as you used to. So we like sweet potatoes, but I think sweet potatoes is just anybody's dishes. That's why when they say French this, Italian that, that makes me laugh. The only difference that the food, they put a lot of spices, and the American people don't. WAYNE LUCIER: You got to have spices. MARY MENDOZA: But over there, French people, too. But there is a little operation, French food, they can cook, too. WAYNE LUCIER: Yeah. MARY MENDOZA: But I don't see it. Like you say, they all have a different… maybe your grandmother may lose it, I have something special that… but I doubt it. Depending if you're too young, like my mother was so young, we never really get any special outside of cooking our bread. But they do it over the years. I call ourselves very much the American way, because of my mother, like I said, she had 25 years in New Bedford. And she was only 15. She married at 17. So, all her life has been in this country, really. Over there, they have fireplaces to cook. They have no electricity, you know. I especially remember our mother. But even then, in our side of the – they make kale soup, fresh-made pea soup. The only thing that I cook different, you know, kale soup [unintelligible - 00:05:58] made is nice. Me, I use kales like you use spinach. I cook them. Then after I cook them, I put some meat in. Take the meat, slice it, then I put a little vinegar and make like a salad with kale greens, because it is very rich in iron, you know. I'm about that, the vitamin, nature foods. I go close to them, though. Study them, I got a bunch of [unintelligible - 00:06:23], because they're not going to eat. There's not need to, you know, my things I do back, go back and I try to find what's this, what's that. But I've never been no special events, like Italian food, the guy says, [unintelligible - 00:06:36] TV, "You want to be Italian at least once a year." I say, "Yeah, well, you want the tourist money." That's all there is to it, because they can eat all the macaroni in it. I don't think much about it, so 4 much paste into them, to make a paste. So I like the way my mother used to cook, too. And your grandmother, she used to make a piece of meat look like roses on the table with spices in. We use more paprika because of my father who was a [unintelligible - 00:06:37] stomach, I guess, his job kind of get him nervous. And it used to be everything… he couldn't have too much spices. So we call ourselves really Italian because that's it. WAYNE LUCIER: What are your fondest memories, your own personal, fondest memories? MARY MENDOZA: The happiest day in my life was when my father went back and picked me up to come back to this country after they left me there. Then I felt that I was safe. Here, everything that's… oh, yeah, and the day that my son graduated, I was more happy than he was. He was tired and bored with everything. I was mad with him. I invited a few people to have a nice time in my backyard, and he didn't like it. I had to stop my voice, so those I had invited came, but the others, he was mad. He said, "I'm so tired, I can't even see nobody in front of me." He went to a very tough school, though, Orono, Maine, University of Maine. And that over there, I guess, he like the school because he says, they're very tolerant, and you live, wear at the day, you know what you were doing. But he didn't like it. He's always in class. His girl was in Fitchburg, so you can imagine. That, you know, so happy that I can't explain it. WAYNE LUCIER: How about Fitchburg? What are your fondest memories at Fitchburg? MARY MENDOZA: I liked Fitchburg for its trees. It's a hilly… it's kind of close to the city, but it's 5, 6 degrees or 4 degrees low. But still, it don't seem this cold. Then I say maybe, but I grew up to like, I like the greens, you know, a lot of trees, especially where we live up here. And it was a quiet city, old but quiet. I never had any trouble at all, these people were not friendly. Maybe I'm the one that's too friendly, but it's really the truth, honest. I worked 18 years because of that one. And everybody that'll get there, they know me. Mary, you this, you that, about the owners who got it, and I thought, even the 5 bookkeeper today, she writes to me letters, she sends me the "Upper Room," the book about religion which is very nice. It's her religion, not mine. And yet, I don't see nothing wrong with that because we all love the same God and she still comes here once in a while. I really had no – never had to say, "Oh, this one is from China, and this one is Italian." I never thought of people like that. I thought people is people. You know, a good person is a good person, regardless of what they are. My first friend over here was an Irish old woman. I was chasing Carlo, and I was scolding him. He was about 18 months. I say, "Carlo, you don't do that. The car comes fast." And she says, "Oh, it's a little trouble." She said, "Mine won't go home," and he start to cry. She says, "This little trouble, they're not little. They're big to him. What do want to do?" And he get to talk to the old lady, and she said, "You want a cookie?" He took a cookie out of the bag. The [unintelligible - 00:10:17] used to be there and give it to her. And she thought it was something special. She became my friend and I kind of liked her through all these years. That's why I say I go to the [ANP] there a lot, because I like to go downtown. And he take me downtown. And I stay there, two, three hours walking around the stores. Of course, the boys get tired. Then I come home to tea. I was pleased with the rest of the week. I don't know what they do now. Even now, yesterday, I went out to see. I'm not do what I used to be, in the stores here and there. And he said, it's lost, and then I watched TV – politicians. Then what I put it on is on about the Senators and the President and it was [unintelligible - 00:10:57]. And that's the way it goes, my life. It's not that much excitement in it. Now, we get old. I don't want to be in my son's way. We lost. We can't go to our place. It makes it not a nice thing to get old. It isn't the idea of just getting old. It's the things that you wish that you could do that go away from you. And they thought they'd say on TV, "Oh, we're going to take care of the old people." What do they do with the old people? Leave us alone and we can take care of ourselves.6 WAYNE LUCIER: How about, what would you like to forget about anything? Is there something you regret or…? MARY MENDOZA: No, I never… the only thing that sometimes I wish that I do once in a while that I had in my young life that my mother would do it, it enough to put me to like play music, but not enough to go on shows and things like that. I love to play a piano. Of course, I have no more. And I try to give music and lessons to my son which I did for about seven or eight years. WAYNE LUCIER: Why don't you learn now? MARY MENDOZA: I'm too old. WAYNE LUCIER: You're never too old. Why don't you learn right now? MARY MENDOZA: And we get up to the school with a piano teacher, right over Mrs. [unintelligible - 00:12:15] now, but you see, I'm going on… I've been 32 years in this house. So I'm going to go one of these days, once a week. Something to… WAYNE LUCIER: Sure, why not? Why don't you go now? Just for the fun of it. MARY MENDOZA: So, the things that I want, Wayne, there's another thing that I would like to, to type. The little that I know, I bought a nice typewriter. My son come and get it. That's the second one that he picks up. Mine, he never use and any of mine is to, because he does a lot. So he goes my typewriter. I had a nice one, though, the Olympia. It's a good one, though. I've made, maybe I'd attach it to one, two, three. But in Portugal, I was doing pretty good. And those things that I wish I could do it, yet, I don't know, I said why. It don't do me any good now. WAYNE LUCIER: You can still do it now. I mean, when time runs out on you, then you can't. MARY MENDOZA: My mother used to say, "Of all the family, you're the only one that thinks not on anymore." Yeah, ouchie, and I am better. You're the only one that comes, your father's side. And I love nice clothes. I don't like to see a girl in pants and rough clothes unless she's doing some work. I like to see nice clothes on a girl. They work. Which is as it should be, look pretty all the time and nice. See, I can't see the things that's going on now, but for me, I don't know. I'm glad I 7 don't have a daughter, because I think that makes it hard for her. Not that hard, like I don't think it's wrong to want to wish, you know, to be feminine, more and more now, it's girls. They want to act like boys. The boys, the same thing. They put things there, something to face, too. There must be scared, once in a while, even if they don't admit it. WAYNE LUCIER: When you came to the United States, after you went back to Portugal, did you want to stay here or do you want to go back? MARY MENDOZA: No, I always wanted to come here, I never wanted to see. When I went from here to there, I was seven years old. What I wanted, it was here, then make matters, they left there with my godmother and my grandmother. And they come over here and they left us there. So that was hard. My mother, I never used to see her. But my father used to go and see me once a week. Once a day, though, only go to work, it stop with my godmother. And those little things, I cry for. So when I come over here, I felt like I was safe, so much so that I never wanted to see no trips, no luxury. He talks about what we'll see. There's nothing to see. It wasn't the American tourist room there. The people that stay here two years, I don't know how they get money, that's what I mean. That we get them right in Fitchburg. They send $1,000 every month to Europe. Then one day, job stop. They go, okay, they have no money. [Unintelligible - 00:15:08] that should be a… you wouldn't live in their country with more than £100. I don't know now. Over here, the stupid thing nowadays, give everything away and let… Who's lifting their fingers to help this country? I think Canada is, but let's have some, huh. That's why things that I never used to get into, because I figure I don't know enough to… and my voice is too soft, I don't be heard in a crowd of people. If it wasn't for that, I go to these meets and I get a lot of… Once in a while, I write a nice letter and I put my name. I put my middle name, because I don't want my husband to pay for anything I do, not because I'm ashamed. We didn't have much, but we always had enough. If you leave us alone, we didn't need you, period. But I don't know. That's the way I feel. And 8 with all these things, I feel bad for our country because, I don't know, I think America was the… she always help the poor people and all that. But right now, it's a shame. All the things that she earn, like the other country, and crooked politicians put us to shame. I think every real American must feel bad about the way things are. Not because we have to go about it. People have too much today. It's just the feeling that our country is so rich and our country have plenty and it's going down to nothing from what. And nobody seems to know what caused this. I think it's lack of leadership, in my honest opinion. And no matter, if it's not just them, he's the one that's responsible for it. WAYNE LUCIER: How about when you came to Fitchburg, did you want to stay in Fitchburg? MARY MENDOZA: No, I cried all the way from New Bedford to Springfield. I went to the other guy who moved my furnishing. I stay all at home. I don't want to go by bus, because I was frightened. I was always in the house, you know, the way I was brought up, not a [tomboy], just… and I say, "Gee, I don't think I like to go by myself." And he can't come down. "Would you mind if I ride with you?" And he says, "Yeah, one of the boys would ride at the back, and you can sit in the front with us." There's three, I forgot the name, but there's three of them. And we went. Of course… he says, "Why are you crying your [unintelligible - 00:17:28]?" "Well, my husband says, 'You either come now or you don't come at all.'" Because it was so bad, the depression of Bedford was terrible. So we didn't just sit down and cry out and go to our fair. We looked from other places. So Mr. Bradbury was a super… ahead of these cotton industries. And soon as he'd come up, he got a job. So he went and worked for Johnson's. It was so hot, 114 degrees. And the way they make these plastic [landings] and things like that, his shirt was so equipped and he went to work in Springfield. We lived in Springfield. It's a nice city. I liked it there. But he didn't like the job, because since he was 15 years old, he's been in the cotton mill. So he met the boss, and the boss went up there and get him. He 9 says, "Why don't you come? You can make more money than you make here and you're going to be a…" Well, now, they call it assistant supervisor. He was a chief in the, a cottoner, they called it, overseer second and third end. He was third end. And he went to the office and… not like grandfather. They were workers. Even your grandfather, with all his faults, he's a worker. That one never keeps still, too. And now, in the least little thing, people don't think that's, how are they going to get along? So you see, all the things that we give too much to – that we get too much (that means me, everybody), they only make it worst. He pays, sure. Who do you think we are? Who we get left out of the big – I never made it to the big pay, though. And he never made one, so… We went to the $2 mark, not even that. So when we get the pension, we don't get much. Yet we're not blaming anybody else. We're just getting along. We just want to be left alone. And that's it, Wayne. WAYNE LUCIER: Okay. My last question, would you ever want to leave Fitchburg? MARY MENDOZA: Well, my mind is mixed up now. I used to say I'd go back to New Bedford as soon as my son was in his way. But for some reason, I guess I've been here for too long. I go down there and I'm so excited, so happy. Then two or three days, I want to come back to Fitchburg. And then I stay here about two or three months, and gosh, like that, I want. But I think it's more, like I said, divided. But I don't think I want to leave my house unless I can afford to keep it./AT/jf/cp/ee

Issue 29.3 of the Review for Religious, 1970. ; EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITOR Everett A. Diederich, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint louis, Missouri 63~ o3. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gailen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 32~ Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania tgto6. + + +. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical approval by faculty members of the School of Divinity of Saint Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; .539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Edu-cational Institute. Published bimonthly/ and copyright ~) 1970 by at 428 East Preston Street; Baltimore, Mary-land 21202. Printed in U,S.A. Second cla~ ~stage paid at ~ltimo~, Mawland and at additional mailing offices. S~gle capita: $1.~. Su~cfiption U,S.A. and Canada: $5.~ a year, $9.~ for two yea~; oth~ coun~: $5,~ a year, $10.~ for two yea~. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money orderpaya-hie to REVtEW FOR RI:LIGIOL'S in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent R.EVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address. Renewals and new subscriptions, where accom* paaied by a remittance, should be sent to Fan R~m~m.s; P. O. ~x 671; Baltimore, Maryland 21203. Changes of address, busin~ correspondence, and orders not accompanid by RELIGIOUS; 4~8 East Preston Street; Balfimo~, Ma~land 21202. Manuscripts, editorial cor-respondence, and ~oks for review should be Building; 539 North Grand ~ulevard; Saint Louis, Mi~ouri 63103. Qu~tions for answering should be sent to the addr¢~ of the Qu~fions and ~swe~ ~itor. MAY 1970 VOLUME 29 NUMBER 3 HERBERT FRANCIS SMITH, S.J. A Method for Eliminatin Method in Prayer Mental prayer is, .or should be, one of the most per-sonal of all activities. It is an interpersonal event in-volving mutual love and self-communication, and noth-ing is more personal than loving. -Still, beginners in mental prayer usually need helpful hints drawn from-the lives of the saints and others pro-ficient in prayer. These helpful hints come down, in practice, to a method of prayer. Here is a genuine dilemma. A method is an invasion of prayer; a lack of method means inability to pray. How do we solve the dilemma? By giving, beginners a method o[ prayer together with insistence that they jettison the method as soon as they can proceed without it. Among another class of meditators an even more serious dilemma arises. These are the people who have made progress in prayer and withdrawn from method for a while, only to find now that their spontaneous prayer has grown sterile. They seem to need method once again, only now the happy remembrances of per-sonalized prayer induces such a revulsion for method that they are tempted simply to drift rather than submit to codified guidelines anymore. It is above all to the people in the second dilemma that I propose a method for eliminating method in prayer. What these people really need is a method of preparing themselves for prayer. They need a method outside oI prayer Ior eliminating method in prayer. This method for eliminating method is, therefore, not for beginners. It presupposes one experienced in prayer. The method for eliminating method contains, 4- 4- 4- Herbert F. Smith, $.J., r~ides at Joseph s College in Philadelphia, Penn-sylvania 19131. VOLUME 29, ].970 345 4- ÷ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS incidentally and subordinately, a method to be used in prayer in emergencies. This contingency use will be ex-plained later. It is my con~,ictioh that virtually all who .pray men-tally, need some method of preparing for prayer if they. want optimal prayer and progress in prayer. For this reason I recbmmend the method of eliminating method even to those who are not conscious of either of the ~t~lemmas presented above. The preparation for prayer to be proposed here.can be used as a method ~or elimi-nating method above all by those who have reached the prayer of faith or even gone byond it.1 As a preparation for prayer which can be taken into prayer, what I am going to say here will be as salutary for beginners in prayer as for anyone. For clarity's sake, I will divide this article into three parts: the preparation for prayer; the prayer itself; and the post-prayer activity. Preparation [or Prayer The'best time to make preparation for the next day's mental prayer is in ttie evening before retiring. This is true even if the mental prayer is not to' take place in the morning. The reason for this insistence on the night l~reparation is the nature of the human psyche. Human "thought needs an incubation period in which to germi-nate and gestate. We are inclined" to theidea that all of our thinking is done. consciously; but the fact is, as Freud noted, that conscious psychic activi~ is only the latest arrival 'on the scene of psychic life. The soul never sleeps, and the night can be used to, good purpose if one collects himself to God before he retires. God "gives .to His beloved in sleep" (Ps 127:2). Evening recollection is important even in the shape it gives our dreams. Fur-thermore, preparation for prayer gives our thoughts a definite focus that ~eeds both our conscious aiad sub-liminal psychic processes dui:ing the day. Many great breakthroughs in human .thought have flashed into consciousness at moments when the subject of the in-sight was ~ving all his conscious attention to some other affair. This is proof enough that the inner life of man goes about the concerns of his heart even when he is least aware of it. These gifts from the inner life, how-ever, are not altogether gratuitous. We must plant our questions and our hopes consciously if we want our sub-conscious to give the increase. We do just tha~ by making evening preparation for" the next day's mental prayer. Once we become proficient at ma~ng this preparation for mental prayer, it need take no more than three or ~. ,1 To review the stages of prayer, see a book like Dom Godefroid Belorgey's The Practice of Mental Prayer. four minutes. Initially, tho~gh, ten or fifteen minutes are required. An ideal way to begin tlte preparation is to read a passage from the Gospels; il only for a minute or two. Then lay the Gospels aside and ask oneself the critical question: What do I want to meditate about? At stake here is the insistent fact thatI prayer ought to begin with oneself. A brief reading from the Gospels can establish the climate of prayer, but ~nly the person himself can specify the optimal start"ing point. To automatically meditate on the passage jus~t read can be a fatal error for the next day's meditation. Of course, if a person yearns to take up the Gospels and make them the sub-ject of his meditation, he shbuld do it, but because it is his desire, that is, because i~a reality he is starting with his desire, that is, himself. In prayer, I must begin with myself. I am the only apt launching platform for my prayer. The reason is that prayer, z's has already been said, is one of the most per-sonal of all activities. To ~start with something other than self is to make of medi'tation a study rather than a prayer. No one who wrote a book of meditation points months ago or years ago can tell me here and now what I want to meditate about. Here and now the points probably would not be apt for the authorl Those who use point books ought to us them as I suggest they use the Gospels. Read a set of points, lay the book aside, and ask: Now what do I want to meditate about? If the answer is: The points I hav~ ~ust read, do not use them ¯ exactly as they are, but personahze them according to the method I will introduce shortly. If it can be said as a general truth that failure to ad-dress God in prayer signals failure to love Him, it can also be said that failure to pray personally enough is failure to love rxghtly. Accordingly, we must discover apt and personal prayer eacliI single day. Apt and personal prayer can only start with myself, as I am here and now, thins day, this evening, with its whole train of circumstance.s, concerns, and desires. If simply ignore the whole existential situation, and let a book impose a prayer subject upon me according to such a random determinantt as the page I happen to be on, my prayer cannot possibly emanate from .that per-sonal psychic center where my in-depth living is going on. The result is that neithe~r my heart nor my attention will be captured by my pr~ayer. I will remain divided between my concerns and my prayer. Approaching the same point from another avenue, we can say that there is no really deep prayer without rec-ollecuon, and there xs no recollectxon wxthout presence to the self. I must be collect~d to myself and my deepest ÷ ÷ ÷ VOLUME 2% 1970 34? + ÷ H. F. Smith, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 348 concerns before I can communicate myself to God or to any other. Only if a man enters those inner depths of the self where what he really is, unknown to others and often even to himself, is operative, can he enter into profound relationship with He-who-is. Profound rela-tionships depend on self-communication. The man who does not possess himself cannot communicate himself. We have all had dinner with someone so distracted by every trivial occurrence in the room that he was no com-pamon at all. His hollow presence was an insult. The Lord Himself likens prayer to an intimate evening meal together: "Look, I am standing at the door, knocking. If one of you hears me calling and opens the door, I will come in to share his meal, side by side with him" (Rev 3:20). I must, then, choose my own topic and make my own points out of my own reality to release my own love. That is, I must do this unless lack of prayer experience, exhaustion, or utter dryness compels me to go for help to another. When that happens I must return as soon as possible to my own initiative. My own points may not sound as sublime as the ones in the book. They may not be as sublime, but they may be much more power-ful in moving my emotions, my insights, my convictions, and my actions. A man must bring his current hopes, expectations, frustrations, concerns, and desires into his preparation. Please note: I am not saying: "Make your problems your prayer; bring your problems into your prayer." Such ad-vice would in no way constitute a method for eliminat-ing method in prayer. I am saying: do bring your prob- .lems into your preparation for prayer so that you will not have to drag them into your prayer. In your prep-aration begin with your current concerns; and within the few minutes it takes to prepare points, you will often see that they are really trivial matters yapping at your heels and demanding of you an outsize amount of concern and worry. By giving them your sharp attention for a moment, you can "spank them and put them to bed," and then go far beyond them to give your freed attention to the realest, deepest concerns of your inner self. Only in this way are you likely to have the undi-vided attention absolutely necessary to pursue your real desire, which, in advanced prayer, is to find your Be-loved. There are times when a person's preparation will be-gin with a current problem and end with a current problem. Finel If that is as far as he can get, he has dis-covered that the concern is grave enough to require his prayer time. He can now make his concern his prayer instead of letting it be a distraction--which it certainly would have been if even his full attention cannot put it to rest. I believe many of our worries and concerns continue to plague us only because we never dearly and definitively bring them to our own attention, resolve to do what we can about them, and then commit them to God. We neither focus our minds on the problems nor free ourselves of the problems, and so they continue to wear away both us and our prayer. This approach will gradually eliminate our parasitic worries and cause our other concerns to fall into per-spective and subside. When the surface calms, we will begin to be able to look into our depths and to see clearly once again our realest longings and desires and concerns. Then and only then can we make them the part of our prayer and our lives that they deserve to be. We have triumphed over the distractions, decoys, and red herrings. We are on the way to finding our true selves. It is difficult for a man to find himself, especially in the beginning. It takes courage to seek out what we are. It takes industry to reject the laziness of rote. It takes energy to think and probe. None of us want to use method, but some are really too lazy or too insecure to do anything else. Yet it is only by entering deeply, per-sonally, subjectively into prayer, and engaging in a genuine personal relationship with Jesus that we can avoid reducing prayer to a mere surface phenomenon incapable of producing fire in mind and heart, and so incapable of catalyzing that inner renewal of mind and heart which the Gospels call raetanoia. Let me quote what the great psychiatrist Karl Jung has to say about the failure to adopt an in-depth approach to Christian-ity: The demand made by lmitatio Christi, i.e., to follow the ideal and seek to become like it, should have the resuIt of developing and exalting the inner man. In actual fact, however, the ideal has been turned by superficial and mechanical-minded believers into an object of worship external to them, an out-ward show which, precisely because of the veneration accorded it, cannot reach down into the depths of the psyche and trans-form it into a wholeness harmonising with that ideal. Accord-ingly the .divine mediator stands outside as an image, while man remains fragmentary and untouched in the deepest part of him. Christ can indeed be imitated to the point of stigmati-zation without the imitator's even remotely approaching the ideal or heeding its meaning; the point here is not a mere imitation that leaves a man unchanged and makes him into an artifact--it is rather a matter of realizing the ideal on one's own account (Deo concedente) in the sphere of one's individual life? The cowards who fear entering into themselves or into ~C. G. Jung, Psychological Reflections, ed. by Jolande Jacobi (New York: 1961), p. 279. 4- Method in Prayer VOLUME 29, 1970 349 4. 4. 4. H. F. Smith, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 350 Christ will never make real progress in prayer or salva-tion: "But the legacy for cowards., is the second death in the lake of sulphur" (Rev 21:8). It is much easier to fall into some one else's thought pattern than to plough my own way into the future through the use of my own personality, my own initia-tive, my own efforts to think. It is much easier to use someone else's points for meditation than to generate my own. The sad thing is that unless I choose my own sub-ject for meditation and formulate my own points, I will journey in some one else's direction, not my own. I will enter into his thoughts, not mine. I will enter into his self-discovery, and not necessarily discover myself. When we want objective truth, we must go the Church and to all wise men. But when it is a matter of legitimate per-sonal concerns and paths to happiness, there is no sub-stitute for one's own inner voice. The Book of Sirach has some telling words on the point: Finally, stick to the advice your own hear~gives you, no one can be truer to you than that; since a man's own soul often forewarns him better than seven watckmen perched on a watchtower. And besides all this beg the Most High to guide your steps in the truth (37:13, 17, 14, 18). Unlike extrinsic assistance, self-made points hold real promise of self-transformation. The man who makes his own points is most likely to find the way. down into his inner depths and unleash the white hot magma of love and desire that will then break forth into the conscious world of affection and action for Christ. Each of us is best able himself to find and tap his own potential en-ergies. The thoughts that go into making points constitute not only a discovery but a personal experience, and there is no substitute for personal experience. I must begin with what are really my questions and my yearn-ings if the answers experienced are to move me deeply enough to change me into the likeness of Christ. No one else can experience for me, and no one can fully com-municate to me his experience. Let Karl Jung address himself to this felt need for one's own experience of profound realities: The best cannot be told., and the second best does not strike home. One must be able to let things happen. I have learned from the East what is ,,meant by the phrase Wu wei: namely, "not doing, letting be,' which is quite different from doing nothing. Some Occidentals, also, have known what this not-doing means; for instance, Meister Eckhart, who speaks of sich lassen, "to let oneself be." The region of darkness into which one falls is not empty; it is the "lavishing mother': of Lao-tzu, the "images" and the "seed." When the surface has been cleared, things can grow out of the depths. People always suppose they have lost their way when they come up against the depths of experience. But if they do not know how to go on, the only answer, the only advice, that makes any sense is "Wait for what the unconscious has to say about the situation." A way is only the way when one finds it and follows it oneself. There is no general prescription for "how one should do it." 8 There is still another compelling reason for each of us to make his own points. Unless we do we not only may fail to open a fissure through which the flaming energies of our inner life can emerge to become the vital force of our prayer, but we also refuse to open our inner life deliberately and consciously to God, and to ourselves in His presence, so that we can deal with the contingencies which this self-knowledge will certainly give rise to and so that we. can expose the paleness and sickness we will find there to His healing light and care. We are afraid and ashamed to expose burselves even to God, though He alone can heal us. We are also afraid to discover God in our own depths, for fear of the claims He will make on us and the changes He will demand. Jung has clearly discerned the widespread fear of these inner realities. He has found it in high places where it ought not exist: If "the theologian really believes in the almighty power of God on the one hand and in the validity of dogma on the other, why then does he not trust God to speak in the soul? Why this fear of psychology? Or is, in complete contradiction to dogma, the soul itself a hell from which only demons gibber? Even if this were really so it would not be any the less con-vincing; for as we all know, the horrified perception of the reality of evil has led to at least as many conversions as the ex-perience of good.' How can we make any progress in prayer unless we expose Our inner life naked to both God and ourselves? How can we be fully human unless we admit to our-selves that the furnace of our psychic life is full of the raw energies that can be fashioned into" every human desire and every exalted and perverted action that has ever come out of a human being? How can w~ be-fully human without knowing what we can become, or with-out asking God to help us avoid what we might become and to become what we ought? Until we know ourselves rather fully, how can we be deep, or fully unified, or recollected, or ourselves, or facing reality, or communi-cating ourselves whole and entire to God and to man? It is clear to a student of comparative religions like Professor Mircea Eliade that man both loves God and fears Him. Man wants to run to God and run away from Him. Man's psychic life is an amorphous thing. Subcon-scious currents run in contrary directions. A man can both love God and hate Him, cherish Him and resent 8 Jung, Psychological Reflections, p. 28~. ' Jung, Psychological Reflections, p. 522. Method ~ Pr~r VOLUME 2% 1970 ÷ ÷ ÷ H. F. Smith, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Him. Leonard Bernstein's symphony Kaddish vividly portrays this malestrom of emotions which we hide in the subconscious because we think it would be blasphemous to let this raw magma break through and rush up into the open daylight of consciousness. Yet where else can it be tamed and channeled? Where else but in daylight and the open air of exposure to God's grace can it cool and harden and thereafter remain, like the granite and the basalt of the earth, as the memory of the ancient volcano of our revolt, and of God's understanding for-giveness and loving conquest over the self-destructive contradictions rending our own inner selves? There are nuns who need a psychiatrist to tell them they would like to have children; there are nuns and priests who leave the religious life when they discover they have desires for marriage. These people have lived a life divorced from their own souls. Every healthy nun knows she would like a husband and children, and every normal priest knows he would like to marry. That is, they know they share with every human nature these intense longings and powerful drives. No priest or nun is called to suppress these longings by trying to pretend they do not exist. They are rather called to control these drives and consciously forego the joy of their fulfillment for the sake of pursuing their higher, virginal love and service of Christ and the Church.~ The practice of daily communing with our own deep-est selves to make our own points for meditation will help us to keep posted on all these powerful and dan-gerous currents within us. Suppression of awareness permits dangerous psychic pressures to mount, but these vents into consciousness will have the opposite effect. The foul gases of cold or hateful or resentful feelings toward God, can escape, giving us opportunity to feel ashamed, and apologize, and be cleansed and healed. Experienced meditators should be able to make their own points without difficulty, after practicing for two or three weeks. Once they have discovered what it can do for them, nothing will prevent them from continuing except neglect or laziness. These confident statements presuppose that the persons addressed are doing daily spiritual reading, especially of the Scriptures. They pre-suppose a broad knowledge of Scripture and the memory of hundreds of favorite passages which come to mind spontaneously when they are germane to the thoughts of the meditation. I do not believe those who lack a broad knowledge of Scripture can use this method. Healthy Christian prayer hardly seems possible without the knowledge of Scripture wherein God teaches us to pray. Only two people know what I ought to pray about here and now: God and myself. In fact, I reduce that to one. God knows, and I have to find out. That is what I ought to do each night. That is the project of making points. By starting with myself I am most likely to be able to find out. It is also there, in my deepest recesses, that ! am most likely to find God. And only if I find Him will I be truly at prayer, which is not thinking, but communication and communion. Prayer is a work of two. We come now to consider the actual making of the points. As I set about making points, I should be con-sciously guided by two master facts. The first is the stage of prayer I have reached, and the second is my frame of ~nind at the moment. Often these two concerns are in conflict, and one of the purposes the points serve is to resolve this conflict. Master fact one. In slightly advanced states of prayer the meditator is often ruled by the desire to find God in prayer. He no longer wants to reflect on spiritual truths or current events in his life. He wants God's company. Furthermore, he is plagued by an inability to meditate any longer. The reasons for this are taken up in treatises on the stages of prayer.5 Master fact two. The meditator's frame of mind is, for instance, troubled by an event of the day and he wants to think about it. These two desires are in conflict. Unless he resolves the conflict before trying to meditate, he is likely to drift back and forth between the two concerns, not knowing which is the prayer and which the distraction. I would like to give an example of a set of points made in this state of conflict. I am in a stage of prayer in whick I habitually want to find God. At the same time I am concerned about my health. Apparently I have done what I can t:or it, but still I am concerned about it. During the last two or three days, the worry has in-truded itself into my prayer. For the subject of medita-tion I choose: The Divine Physician. The scene to oc-cupy my imagination: ]esus putting clay on the blind man's eyek. I ask the grace: To put myself in the care of the Divine Physician. I now think about the subject for a moment (instinctively guided by the two master facts listed above), and reflectively expand it into three points. FIRST POINT: The God-man, the true Physi-cian. SECOND POINT: I put myself completely in Your care, Divine Healer. THIRD POINT: Lord, now that I am Your concern, You can be my concern. I now choose some phrase which in one or a few words cap- Again I refer to Belorgey, The Practice. Method in Prayer REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS H. F. Smith, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS tures the essence of the meditation. I call it the SPIR-ITUAL CAPSULE: Divine Physician, come! Something very important has transpired here. This simple preparation, which in practice might take me no more than a couple of minutes, was actually a miniature meditation. In this preparation-meditation I have ended my concern by deliberately turning it over ~to Christ. I did that in the second point. At that point I eliminated the conflict and left myself free to pray about my deep-est concerns. That fact is crystalized in the third point, where my attention is focused on the Lord, and I have actually already begun my interchange of affection with Him. In this mini-meditation I have disposed myself for the p.rayer of the presence of God by giving my current concern the momentary attention it needed, which was all the attention it deserves. This telescoping of a medi-tation which might formerly have taken an hour to get the same results into a minute or two is characteristic of persons who have reached more contemplative states of prayer. It proceeds intuitively and almost instantane-ously. It is also characteristi~ of contemplative states of prayer that meditation is displaced from prayer time and is skillfully and spontaneously carried on at odd moments during the day, and at the time of prepara-tion for prayer. Prayer preparation is, in contemplative states, a time to run quickly through meditative mat-ters and then put them aside, and thus put the soul in peace for contemplation. Let us now take the example of a set of points which a man might make while he is in the stage of the prayer of faith, on a quiet day when nothing is troubling him. The master fact governing his choice is his yearning for non-verbal communication with God: SUBJECT Resting with You by faith. SCENE Desert, where You invited the Apostles to come and rest with You (Mk 6:31). GRACE To be still and know that You are G~d (Ps 46:10). FIRST POINT "Commune with your hearts on your beds and be Silent" (Ps 4:4). SECOND POINT "Peace, be stilll" (Mk 4:39). THIRD POINT You lead me beside still waters, You restore my soul (Ps 23:3). SPIRITUAL CAPSULE God There are a number of useful things to be noted in this example. The meditator is addressing God even in the course of preparing points. He sees no sense in talk-ing about God in third person when l~e can address Him directly. Further, he loves to address God and have God address him in God's own words taken from Scrip-ture. And he has culled from Scripture and put down from memory passages he has recently memorised in the course of his Scriptural reading because they aptly de-scribe and Scripturally vouch for the authenticity of his current form of prayer. Finally, he summarizes his whole meditation in one word, knowing that even one word is too many to use in this stage of prayer. A man in the prayer of faith or beyond may make points similar to this most days for months at a time-- or even ~ears. He makes fresh points each day, because there is always a different nuance it is important to ex-press, but the essence remains un.varying. He is in com-munion with God on a deep level little affected by the transient times and tides of each day. The two examples given make it evident that I pro-pose a standard framework to contain the meditation. I call it the spiritual filing cabinet. It is the format made familiar by St. Ignatius. The advantage is that of any filing cabinet. It makes it easy for me to remember and sort out my thoughts each day, since I never vary. the cabinet but only the contents. I write down the medita-tion each night, but just before falling to sleep I can easily recall it from memory because of the standardized framework. On evenings when the preparation is fully successful, I will have disposed of all other concerns by the time I reach the third point, and there be swept up into the presence of God, where I hope to remain until after the hour of prayer the next morning. In that case, I will not recall the points when I compose myself for sleep. The points have eliminated themselves by pro-jecting me beyond them. They have proved their power to be selpeliminating. Let us take an example of a third mood, which is a composite of the two preceding moods, and see the points that come out of it. Personally, the meditator would like to spend his prayer time simply dwelling with God, but he feels he ought to bring the whole world into his meditation. To which of these conflict-ing desires is he really being called by ~race? The an-swer is that if he is in a contemplative stage of prayer such as the prayer of faith, the presumption must be in its favor until experience gives contrary evidence. After all, arrival at such a prayer is a personal invitation from God to come apart and rest awhile. Furthermore, by his contemplation the person is disposing himself to be God's servant to the world. Still, in preparing his medi-tation, the meditator may be able to synthesize the two diverse thrusts of his desire: SUBJECT The God of concern for the world SCENE The God of the world is within me, who am part of the world GRACE To be one with You in Your labors for men, my God and their God FIR, ST POINT 0 God of all origins, Father ingeneratet + + + Method in Prayer VOLUME 29, 1970 + 4. 4. H. F. Smith, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 356 SECOND POINT 0 God to the world, Incarnate God-Sonl THIRD POINT 0 God to the world-in-process of being reborn, Holy Spirit with usl SPIRITUAL CAPSULE Com~, Lord Jesus! In this meditation the meditator has succeeded in gain-ing a synoptic view of God and the world, thereby rec-onciling the seemingly opposed desires of his state of mind. Whatever direction his meditation takes in the morning, it should be able to take it without distraction from unreconciled contraries. Sometimes, when there are a few extra minutes avail-able, it is useful to jot down a few sub-ideas under one or more of the three points. Under the first point of the sample meditation just given, one might jot: You are the Father who has instructed us: "Be fruitful and mul-tiply; fill the earth and subdue it. Have dominion." Under the second he might jot the words of Jesus: "Fear not, I have overcome the world," and "I have come that they may have life and have it more abundantly." Years ago, I used to find this helpful, but now I generally find that it only clutters up the meditation and interferes with the simple contemplative gaze the preparation helps me to achieve. Anyone willing to experiment with this method for eliminating method may discover to his joy that while he used to wander to and fro from one book to another looking for something to help him meditate, he now easily discovers what he wants. When he asks: "What do I want to pray about, Lord?" the subject readily comes to mind: The quiet of being with You. "What scene to quiet my imagination?" John leaning on Your breast. What grace? To renew my knowledge of what it means to be with You. Point One: Resting here with You. Point Two: Listening in my heart to what You say. Point Three: Returning the love. Spiritual Capsule: I to You, and, to me, You whom my heart loves. In all of this, I have begun with something even more personal than Scripture. I have consulted God and my-self, and from there gone on to use Scripture, as God's means of communicating with me and I with Him. Slowly I formulate what God and I are to one another at the moment. I find God, and, as best I can, remain with Him until the time of formal prayer the next morn-ing. The Praying Itself If I am to pray in the early morning, the time to begin praying is the moment I awake. If, on awaking, I am in the presence of God, I make no attempt to recall my points. I simply remain with Him. When I come to the formal time for prayer, I do not use my points. Points are not lor use. I abide with God. I pray con-templatively, in a form of non-verbal communication represented by the names, prayer oI faith, prayer ol quiet, and so forth. Of course, this method does not produce such a state of prayer. It only facilitates it for those who have attained to it. Often, it is only by turning away from thoughts of God that we can turn to God, for no thought can con-tain Him, but a thought can distract us from Him. One nun to whom I had communicated these reflections wrote me: I've read a little over half of the Ascent to Mount Carmel. I like John. He is very gentle, thoughtful, and humble. 250 pages of how to do nothing in prayer. You sai,d, it in one sen-tence: "Don't think about God; think God.' I understand that all this background is essential, though, especially since I have not yet learned how to do nothing. This self-eliminating method can help us to bank the flies of our own recollection until it reaches the in-candescence of the prayer of the presence of God. The method is for those who have found and want to hold on to the prayer of communication, communion, and union with God. It is for those quiet enough to hear the call to this prayer, and courageous enough to take the solitary path to their meeting alone with God. The points are designed for self-elimination, but they are also meant to serve as an emergency auxiliary. They are supposed to put us into the orbit of our normal prayer, but they are also' supposed to rescue us if we fall out of it. Should I be unsuccessful in finding God when I awake in the morning, I recall my points and mentally run through them. I center my recollection around them until the time for formal prayer. On coming to prayer, I put aside my points and make another attempt to find God without thoughts or words. If I do not succeed, I resort to my points once again, ' since I have put into them the matters which mean most to me at the mo-ment. They should help me to pray the prayer of sim-plicity, or the prayer of affection, or at least to do some meditating. If not, I will have to turn to some other alternative, such as meditative reading of the Scripture, but only as a good spiritual director, or a reliable book on the stages of prayer, advises.n Sometimes when we attempt to prepare our own points, we will find we are devoid of every thought. We have no choice but to resort to some one else's points. Or do we? That is the time to turn to past sets of our own o In advanced states, it is not easy to know whether we are praying successfully or wasting our time. See, once again, Belorgey, The Practice, or the works of St. Teresa of Avila, St. John of the Cross, and others. + + + Method in Prayer VOLUME 2% 1970 357 Sm~t~o S./. RELIGIOUS 358 points, prepared out of our own heads in .richer seasons, and stored up for barren days. At times when I have felt repelled by the thought of any book and unable to prepare a meditation of my own, I have frequently re-sorted to stores of my own points. Almost always two or three sets will guide me into prayer and. recollection within minutes. Once again I am experiencing the grace I received in the day and hour I first used those particu-lar points. Roads we have used to God in the past often remain viable if we can locate them again. We should return often to the sites where He has visited us in the past. This method of preparing points is very useful even for those in earlier stages of prayer, but for them the preparation will not be self-eliminating. They will of necessity take their self-prepared material into the prayer and use it to feed their meditation. They will enjoy most of the benefits of this highly personalized and creative method of prayer. For them too it minimizes method, reduces foreign elements in their prayer to a minimum, and guides them to personal discovery of Christ. When beginners use this method of making points, it will have to be modified somewhat. O[ten, they will not be able to prepare points out of their heads. What they can do is take a Gospel event, analyze it, and put it.into the spiritual filing cabinet according to their own bent. Under each point they should jot down personal ideas and experiences relating to the Scriptural themes. If no personal ideas come, they can be trained to use the ref-erences to related passages such as the Jerusalem Bible gives in such abundance. Looking up these related pas-sages and jotting them down as sub-points will help deepen their understanding of Scripture and develop their power to meditate. They should take about fifteen minutes to prepare points in the beginning. Before long they will show more deftness and originality in use of the method. I taught this method to a group of young sisters with assurance that it would work. Not long after, one of them wrote me: You know, Father, at first when you told us about using our "spiritual capsule" before bedtime and that in time we would awaken at night and find ourselveg" talking to God, I felt it would be years until that could ever happen to me. But it has happenedl Post-Prayer Activity We ought to record worthwhile insights, experiences, and meetings with God in prayer. Reading them over some time later can be the best fuel for future points. As already indicated, we should store up successful self-made points. It is practicable to make points each day in a small note book, dating each day as we go along. When we want to make a post-prayer reflection in writing, put it in the same place. In the future when our mood is such that we want to return to some explicit past meditation, we will be able to find it with ease and benefit by it again. This method for eliminating method in prayer has been well tested and proven. It requires some trouble on our part, but it eliminates a lot more trouble than it takes. It is a method with a high yield. For surely he is going to make the most progress in his search for God who starts not from some one else's starting point but from his own. + + + VOLUME 29, 1970 DOM JOHN MAIN, O.S.B. V ew Dora Johu Main, O.S.B., a monk of Ealing, is presently living at St. An-selm's Abbey in Washington, D.C. 20017. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Once upon a time a small boy and his old uncle were out for a walk in their city. It was a large city and had in it all sorts of wonderful modern buildings and wonderful modern people. It was called Secular City and was beautifully situated in a deep valley with spectacular high mountains rising up all around it. The small boy and his uncle had strayed into an older part of the city, and the boy was very surprised when they came upon a large building in a ruinous condi-tion. This was an altogether unusual sight in the modern city, and the small boy was upset by it. He thought how marvelous the ruins must have looked in their day. Pointing to the ruin, one feature of which seemed to have been a very high tower, he asked his uncle what this ugly eyesore was doing here. The old uncle sighed; he hated his young nephew to see anything that was ugly. "Well," he started, "I can remember that building well. It was very fine in its day, with a great high tower which reached way up above Secular City. They said that the view from the tower was absolutely stupendous." "But how on earth did it become such a ruin?" asked the small boy, looking now with an even greater interest at the noble ruins. "Well, you see," the uncle started, "a rather special group used to live there. They really did a great job for the whole community in rather a strange sort of way. You see in our Secular City we are stir-rounded by mountains and, as a result, we tend to get rather closed in on ourselves. It's rather difficult to ex-plain, but we tend to think of everything in terms of Secular City. Well, the group that lived there built a large and very high tower--to see the wonderful view; and in some strange way this view of theirs seemed to add a new dimension to the life of the group that made them rather special people in Secular City." The boy listened to this explanation with great at-tention. He wondered how a view could have so changed a group. Turning his innocent face to his uncle, he asked, "How do you mean--special people? Did the view make them a bit odd?" "I suppose it did in a way," the uncle replied, try-ing to recall the group to his mind. "We could never quite understand why they were so concerned to pro-vide schools and hospitals, orphanages and old people's homes. We just accepted the fact that somehow or other the view was at the back of it all." He thought very quietly to himself and added: "Anyone who needed help seemed to become the concern of the group. It all happened a long time ago, and I can'( remember too. well now; but it seemed that they brought all their talents together and used them wherever there were people in need." The uncle had not thought of these things for a long time. It was the dedication of the group that now struck him as the hallmark of their work. He wondered, to himself how he had been so lacking in curiosity about the view when the group had been such a creative force in the city. The little boy now looked really puzzled. "Well, what happened," he asked, "How did it all become a ruin? Did some tyrant come' and run them out of town?" "You remember me telling you about the tower, and how hard it was to climb to the top," the uncle went on. "Well, it appears that over the years, the staircase that went up to the top got rather old and worn out-- I think there was woodworm or maybe dry rot--and the group decided that they would have to rebuild it. And that was when all the trouble started. Some of the group just wanted to repair the staircase, but others said that was no good because the dry rot, or maybe it was woodworm, ~vould just affect the new wood. Then someone who was really very modern got the idea of pulling down the staircase and putting in an elevator. The trouble with this idea was that they couldn't get the elevator shaft in without pulling down the staircase, and that's when the trouble really started. In the old days, you see, there had always been some of the group either at the top of the stairs looking at tile view, or. some of them on the way up to encourage the others. I'm not too sure about this, but I think it was.rumored that even before all the discussions started, there. weren't quite so many climbing so high up the tower. I think I remember it being said that the group spent a lot of time looking after all .their plant and not quite so much time getting up to the view. In any case, they all seemed to agree that the stairs had to be rebuilt. But, when this argument started, they all got so involved in the discussion about the elevator, that ÷ ÷. ÷ VOLUME 29 1970 361 ~ ÷ ÷ + Dom John Main REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 362 they all began to come down to join one of the com-missions they set up." "What's a commission?" the small boy asked, looking rather puzzled. The old uncle tried to look very wise. "A commis-sion," he faltered, "was a part of the group set up to examine some particular problem. They usually passed out questionnaires which everybody had to fill in, and these suggested new questions and more questionnaires. I never really understood the process---but I believe it was quite essential." The little boy did not seem to be paying much atten-tion to this; and, turning his perplexed face to his uncle, he pondered: "But was anyone trying to keep going up the tower to see the view while those com-missions met?" He was only a small boy, but it seemed to him that if the view had been so important in the past it might even inspire the work of the commissions. "I suppose some were," replied the old uncle, "but then they all seemed to get nervous about the founda-tions." "The foundations," replied the small boy, now look-ing at his old uncle with something like incredulity. "Yes," went on the uncle. "You see, after a while the discussions shifted from the question of the elevator or the stairs to another more fundamental matter, namely, would the foundations really support any new structure at all?" "Well, if they supported the old one, why shouldn't they support the new one?" asked the small boy. "And, anyway, what about the view? Didn't anyone even want to risk trying to get up to see the view?" "The problem was," explained the uncle, "that the old structure had really become very rickety by this time. The group was finding that the stairs just wouldn't carry them up anymore. And the foundations, this was quite a problem. But perhaps more serious was another thing. You remember me telling you that in our Secular City we get rather inward looking--strange to say this way of thinking now began to affect the group. In the old days they had brought quite a new dimension 'to the city, but now somehow or another they became like the rest of the people around them in the city." The boy now looked very serious indeed. "They should have tried to keep contact with that view," he said his face had become very determined and set. "I don't think we should be too hard on them," replied his uncle; "it was a difficult problem to know how to renew those stairs." But even as he was saying this, at a deep level he shared his nephew's regret. "But what happened?" urged the small boy. "Did the commission ever come up with a solution?" In spite of his black looks of a moment ago, his innocence forced him to believe that there must be a solution. The old uncle tried to remember. "I just can't re-call," he said. "There used to be a lot of talk about the group but then people seemed to forget about them." It was getting late and they had to be going home, but the small boy wanted to take a closer look at the ruin. They walked over and both looked at one an-other in surprise. There seemed to be sounds coming from the basement--was someone working at the foundation? But, it was time to go. "I wonder what that view was really like?" mused the small boy, looking up at the great ruined tower. ÷ + ÷ VOLUME 29, !970 EUGENE C. AHNER, S.V.D. Toward a Renewed Life in Communi Eugene C. Ah-her, SN.D., is the dean of men at the S.V.D. Major Sem-inary; 4000 13th St.; Washington, D.C. 20017. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS There was a lawyer who to disconcert him stood up and said to him, "Master, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" He said to him, "What is written in the law? What do you read there?" He replied, "You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your s~rength and with all your mind and your neighbor as yourself.' "You have answered right" said Jesus; "do this and lif.e is yours" (Lk 10:25-8). At this level we all find ourselves in agreement. The purpose of our lives, the goal of our struggle as human beings, as Christians, as priests or religious, is the love of God and neighbor. Here we all celebrate together and find ourselves in familiar company whether we are young or old, liberal or conservative, particularly pious or not. In fact, if we really pressed the issue we would find there are very few, if any, who are against love. After all, everyone wants love, truth, peace, brotherhood. However, as we go one step further and begin to ask what is real love anyway and how does one respond in the face of non-love, of hate, deception, and fear, the whole harmonious scene changes. What seems so simple and clear immediately becomes immensely complex and confused. Conflicting attitudes, opposing groups, and divergent ideas splinter in all directions. And we find ourselves in agreement with Qoheleth as he says: "I find that God made man simple; man's complex problems are of his own devising" (Eccl 7:29-30). The real problem, then, is not who wants love and truth and goodness, but how do we live in the face of evil. For, in each of us and in the world about us, there are not only the elements of life and growth but also the seeds of death and destruction. And while we may be quite sensitive to and indignant about the evil out-side of us, we are fearfully reluctant to look directly, clearly, and without dodging or panicking at the evil inside our own hearts. And yet, unless we are in touch with ourselves as we truly are and with our brother as he truly is, talk of love is futile. For the sad fact is that what then goes for love is rather an exercise in self-protection or self-aggrandizement at the expense of both myself and my brother. The gxeat task before each man, then, is really the human task. The fundamental point of religious life is common to all: to find oneself; to find one's brother; to find God. For, unless we are in touch with this funda-merit of reality we cannot walk the way of love. This discovery of our own true dimensions, tlie experience of our human situation, is a prelude to a life of love. And yet the one thing we attempt to avoid is knowing our-selves as we truly are--to enter into the wasteland of our own heart and discover there the dimensions of the sinner as well as the saint, the evil as well as the good, the love of death as well as the love of life. We are ca-pable of hate as we are of love, of anger as we are of af-fection, of the irrational as of the rational. No doubt the religious and monastic thing has always intended to bring a man in touch with himself as tie truly is--the long hours of aloneness, of fasting, of re-flection, of self-accusation, of spiritual direction. How-ever, there is no need to prove that the intended results have not kept pace with the practices and that, to the contrary, there are enough instances of these practices actually being used in such a way as to support and contribute to the dream world of self-deception and of the flight from the reality of oneself and one's neighbor. In fact, we might even wonder whether some of our more recent theologizing and liturgical celebration are not weakened by this very sort of glibness and superficial-ity with which it slides over the problem of evil and death. This can only lead to a kind of astonishment and perhaps eventual disillusionment when the repetition of the words love, community, hope, and life do not really seem to overcome hate, isolation, despair, and death be-cause they have never really met each other seriously and head-on. Each set of experiences is kept separate from the other because deep in our hearts we are not so very sure that love can really overcome fear and that truth is really stronger than pretense. The world of the kingdom, of truth, and of love is expressed and cele-brated loudly and clearly but in an uprooted and imag-inary world of its own. The world of sin and of death is kept apart, quiet and repressed deep inside the heart unknown even to the heart itself. Jeremiah says: "The heart is more devious than any other thing, perverse too; who can pierce its secret?" (Jer 17:9) And it is here in the unfathomable depths of the heart that the human ego keeps itself. + ÷ Toward Renewed VOLUME 29, 1970 365 ÷ ÷ ÷ E. ~. Abner, $.V.D. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 366 The difficulty of honestly facing our fear and the de-viousness of our own hearts has led us to many disguises and subterfuges to avoid the kind of confrontation that brings to light what is now in darkness. More by way of example than by exhaustive analysis, I would like to list three common ways we avoid the reality of who we are. Repression We are all acquainted with the small child who, in wanting to hide from someone, simply covers his own eyes. And so, not able to see the other, he feels well hid-den and secure. We smile at the naiveness of the child but what is innocent enough at that level becomes dev-astat! ng for adults who continue to deal with reality in this way. The easiest way of dealing with the unpleas-ant is to act as if it were not there. Somehow, by ig-noring it, it will go away. If our feelings run counter to what we are expected to feel, to think, or to do, the quickest way of dealing with the situation is to ignore or repress the feelings. If our feelings are so strong that we don't know what they might lead to, the safest thing is to repress them. Concretely, if I have sexual feelings or fantasies for someone of the same or opposite sex and for whatever reason feel that I shouldn't, I will tend to act as if they are not there. If I feel so angry inside that I am afraid that I will lose control and really hurt someone, I will try to play it safe and keep all feelings well under control. If I feel tender or affection-ate but consider such feelings unmanly, I will hide them. But the sad fact is that we cannot exercise such selec-tive repression. Before long we find that we do not know how we feel anymore and soon we discover that we no longer consciously feel anything at all. The price of re-pressing unwanted feelings is the numbing of all feelings. But deep inside there is a lump and we are depressed or forever anxious. And so we walk about like hollow peo-ple, not obviously angry or unkind but not able to love or feel deeply for anyone either. It becomes too dangerous to let go of any feeling because something else might come up that we cannot handle. But even that might not be too high a price to pay for external control. The fact is though that nothing is simply repressed without making itself felt somehow or somewhere--which brings us to our second ploy. Transference Everything that has made up our life leaves its mark and calls for its share of recognition. And if we are un-willing or unable to face the feelings that arise directly from the situation, we will have to face them in some other area that has no direct relation to the original feeling. Almost classic now is the understanding that masturbation, for example, is not simply a sexual prob-lem but a release of anger, frustration, feelings of in-adequacy and overdependency, that are not being met at the level where the issues really are. Another broad area of transference is the focus of all one's interests and energy on the great battle of evil out-side of ourselves. Especially today at a time of such far-reaching change and critical reevaluation there is no lack of evils to attack or causes to be advanced. All of which is fine and to be commended provided that it is not merely a front for avoiding the evil inside of our-selves. The real problem is that whatever evil exists around us also has basic roots and affinities inside of us. So, unless we have faced the evil within, our attempts to deal with it outside will be more a case of evil meet-ing evil, violence opposed to violence, lust opposed to lust, totalitarianism opposed to totalitarianism. And the end result will be ambiguity, hostility, restlessness, and the alienation of feeling. The present day religious community in transition is an excellent breeding ground for this kind of malaise. It becomes so much easier to fight the corruption in institutions and structures than in ourselves. And the sad fact is that there is so much that needs to be renewed but the one who is vigorously tear-ing down structures does not even realize that he is pri-marily fighting something in himself. Intellectualism This is an occupational hazard of any academic or student community. It is rooted in the realization that whatever can be understood can also be controlled. Therefore, if we intellectualize our whole life, our feel-ings and relationships as well, we can always be in con-trol. And as long as we maintain control, no one can get too dose to us, no one will be able to hurt us. manipulate persons and relationships, often unknow-ingly, in order to keep them at a distance and so pick and choose what is safe and what we can master. It means, of course, that all spontaneity must be censored and no feelings may overstep our present intellectual understanding. Feelings, then, become techniques to use "for effect." Relationships become calculations and the question becomes what should I feel rather than what do I feel. Life becomes a question of control, and lost are the directness and closeness of Christ: anger, fear, tears, and tenderness. And in the end, since the feelings have not been dealt with honestly, they will crop up in some often unsuspecting way and cry out for recognition. + + + Toward Renewed VOLUME 29, 1970 E. C. Abner, $.V.D. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 368 Perhaps it will be one person or one thing that will have to bear in an unreal and overdependent way our total emotional life. These are some of the more common ways we use to protect ourselves from others. But systematically and imperceptibly what we have hidden about ourselves from others also becomes hidden from ourselves. And so we find that we are not only strangers to others but finally also to ourselves. By middle-age most of us are accomplished fugitives not only from others but radi-cally from ourselves, thereby losing touch with the true source of life and renewal and motivation within us. What is it that drives us so far from ourselves and others? What subtle and all-pervasive element in our lives creeps into every aspect of it? What holds us in a closed and guarded defense rather than in an open and loving embrace? We are in fact face to face with fear-- our great fear that if we are known as we truly are we will not be lovable, will not be accepted, but rather that we will be taken advantage of, laughed at, hurt, or ignored. If others really knew that I am not only strong and capable but also weak and afraid, that I not only have desires of love and goodness but also of hate and destructiveness, would I still be loved and accepted or would I be crushed and rejected? I would venture to say that the great feeling of worthlessness so prevalent among people today is a direct result of their fear to be themselves. And we have reason to be afraid because to be our-selves means openness and vulnerability and honesty and confession of weakness. Revealing ourselves might destroy us. And if life is a little flicker between the darkness from which we have come and the darkness to which we will return, then we will do all that we can to grab it and. protect it. And so we proceed to build walls a~ound our weakness, to present only our strengths, to acknowledge only what is good and loving in us and we try to cover over what is weak and evil. We will be careful always to be in control and to have enough "pro-tection" between ourselves and others. And yet the fact is that only when we break through this hard shell can we be truly lovable. Only then can someone know who we are and love us. The very defenses we use not to get hurt are the walls that keep others out and make it ira-possible for another to really love us. And so we end up with the sad paradox that what we want most, to love and to be loved, is the thing we most thwart by our at-tempts to achieve it--through impressing others with being strong, trying to merit another's love by only re-vealing our "best" side. All this despite the experience we also share of actually feeling a greater love rather than less towards someone who may have revealed his own weakness to us. As John says so succinctly: "In love there can be no fear, but fear is driven out by perfect love: because to fear is to expect punishment, and any-one who is afraid is still imperfect in love" (1 Jn 4:18). So the very possibility of love depends on our willing-ness to face weakness and evil as it truly is--in ourselves and in our brother. Love does not solve the problem of evil by eliminating or avoiding it. That is impossible. To attempt a solution of evil by elimination is to believe that evil is only extraneous to man, that were it not for an evil society man could live in love and truth. In this view, evil would be successfully overcome if it could only be eliminated from the society in which man lives. It would be to act as if man were an angel who did not have deep within himself seeds of both good and evil. Rather, the only route open in the face of evil is to suff~r through evil without the loss, the capacity for love. In other words, evil must be transcended, not es-caped from or eliminated, and this cannot be achieved apart from the journey through the lust of one's own hell. So, finally, it is man himself and not evil which is redeemed. Evil, sin, and death will remain but they can be transcended provided that the individual face them in imagination and go beyond them in an act of love that restores the mystery of being and reveals the limit-lessness of man's freedom and responsibility. It is only by personally facing the depths of one's own despair, hate, violence, doubt, nothingness, aloneness that hope and love and redemption and faith are the victories that overcome, transcend the world. We do not face evil by simply committing it because this is in fact to sur-render to it. We do not face it by acting as if it were not a reality inside ourselves because this is mere,escapism to an unreal world which makes any real solution impossible. But rather, we must enter it through the imagination, risk the possibility of doing it, and with this necessary psychic distance, to transcend it. But as we consider these dynamics, are we not face to face with the religious thing, with the task of religious development in a community? A home wher~ I can search out my own heart, to discover the depths ~f the sinner and the saint, and to be accepted and erhbraced in a fraternity of sinners redeemed by Christ's 10ve. A group of persons with whom I can be myself, be open with-out deceit and not stand constantly under the sentence of being ridiculed, ignored, or taken advantage of. A place where the forgiving and creative form of love is operative and allows new possibilities of life to be re-vealed from sin and death. A zone of truth s~here evil will not be run from or ignored but faced ste,hdfastly with + + Toward Renewed Lile VOLUME 29, 1970 369 love. A community where there are honest men seeking for truth and love who are willing and able to accom-pany me in my journey. For this kind of atmosphere will allow an individual to take the fearful plunge and search the darkness of his own heart, to transcend the evil in his own life, and to face clearly the choice of lov.ing or hating, believing or doubting, being honest or hiding, hoping or despairing, living or dying. Is this not really what we should be about in our own life in community? The religious community is not a place to protect a person from himself, from reality, to escape or ignore evil, but rather to open him to the reality of himself and to reality in general. What re-newal has discovered is not a new commandment but the necessity of more penetrating and decisive ways of facing and knowing ourselves totally, good and evil. Only then can we really begin to walk the way of that first and all-inclusive command: "Love God with your whole heart and your neighbor as yourself." 4- 4- E. ~. Ahnt~', $.V.D. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 370 ALAN AMBORN The Helpful,.Lifer It seems to be rather common opinion' that convicts who turn to God are nothing but hypocrites. Nothing could be farther /from the truth. You can read here what rel!gion really means to a prisoner. There are many people who seem to wqnder exactly what part religion can and does play in American prisons today. It is my opinion that it pla~s a very im-portant part, even though people may frequently say: "Isn't it all hypocrisy? Is a convicted felon ,really sincere when he turns to God only after he has b~en found in his crimes?" To that question we can posiibly have as many answers as there are men in prison. It may seem strange but it is nevertheless true that the people who ask such questions are us~ually people who have little, if any, firsthand information about prisons or prison inmates. What little info,rmatlon they have was obtained from reading the newspapers. Only too often such information is scanty and, at times, even misleading. , Suppose we begin with the assumption, that ninety-nine per cent of the men and women res.iding in the penitentiaries are guilty of the crimes for, which they have been sentenced. A large proportion 'of these are first offenders, many of whom have been committed to prison for crimes of omission, accident, or sheer stupid-ity rather than deliberate crimes of cupidity. Further-more, I would say that by far the majority of these are determined that they will never again come in conflict with the law once they have completed their sentences. The point I am trying to make is that among our prison inmates there are those who could possibly be classed as ogres, madmen, or depraved individuals, but they are in the minority. The greater part of our prisoners are peo-ple who have feelings, conscience, and a deep awareness of what they have done to their victims, their loved ones, and to themselves. In a prison, men and women who have been torn from their homes, wives, children, sweethearts, and + + + Alan Amborn 16376 can be writ-ten to at Box 900; Jefferson City, Mis-souri 65101. VOLUME 29, 1970 ÷ ÷ Alan Ambo~n REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS friends are forced to live an almost completely monastic life. Despite the many humane reforms in our modern penal systems, the average prisoner still undergoes the shock of isolation, the moral shame and degradation that follow his being sentenced. A first offender's initial few months is, generally, a period of shock, humiliation, despair, and above all, one of loneliness beyond descrip-tion. No one, not having experienced that first night when the cell door slams with such frightening finality and the lights go out, could be expected to understand the feel-ings that encompass the now totally miserable individ-ual. Along with the sense of loss come degradation and despair with a special kind of fear--spiritual and moral as well as physical. A person having experienced these feelings could never forget them. A person not having experienced them could never understand exactly what they were. Those first-night horrors can, and do, shake the most calloused lawbreaker to the very core of his being. Is it any wonder, then, that prisoners turn to what should have been their constant solace and comfort but, too often, is their last resort--their God and their Bible? It is the only answer and solution to a problem of pain that can drive the most hardened sophisticate mad. I speak from firsthand, if tragic, experience. I am an inmate of a Midwestern penitentiary. This is not my first prison. Yet, in each I have seen the word of God work wonders when everything else tried had failed. Any man or woman who is not completely amoral has some degree of sensitivity. Convicts are no exception. Even though the State, through legislation, charity, and necessity, provides for the prisoner in regards to his or her material and spiritual wants, there is always one factor that cannot be provided for, and that is the purely private and personal feelings of the individual. From unforgettable personal and bitter experience I know this common factor. Even though the warden of a prison were to offer a sympathetic ear to the inmate, the pris-oner's recent association with the police, the court, judge, and the jury, would have, consciously or uncon-sciously, erected a mental barrier that is, during the first months of imprisonment, not easily scaled. To the average prisoner who is experiencing his first imprison-ment, even the kindly ministrations and gestures of a chaplain, psychologist, or psychiatrist are often rejected and disregarded simply because the prisoner is not in a receptive mood or frame of mind. Very few convicts .are inclined to make officials of any stature their confidants. In the case of the new prisoner's family, the shock and shame emanating from their loved one's conviction and imprisonment is usually so great that they are at a com-plete loss as to what to do toward comforting or en-couraging their father, brother, or son. In a great ma-jority of the cases I have personally observed, the family procrastinates; they do nothing, waiting for the impris-oned man to make the initial move. Any conscientious prison official can tell you how inadvisable this attitude is. It is the usual procedure or custom in most prisons to have the new inmate or "fish" go through a thirty day period of isolation. There are two reasons for this pro-cedure: a hygienic check-up first, and then the period in which the authorities observe the conduct and attitude of the man. The officials, for security purposes, must know the moods, manners, and intentions of their new charges. Is the "fish" mentally or physically sick? Is he antagonistic or dangerous? Will he harm himself or some inmate in his anger and frustration? This period of isolation is by far the worst part of imprisonment for any convict, but especially so for the prison novice. This is the danger point for the emotion-ally distraught and the mentally unbalanced; this is the period where the man, all alone, must separate himself from the world of the living he has "always known, and accept and adjust himself to the frightening new world of the living dead. It can very well be the ebb tide of his life. This is the time when, no matter if he has been lax in his practice of religion, an agnostic or even an atheist, he will, he must, within himself turn to God. He must if he is to survive. For be he Christian or Jew, Muslim or Buddhist, young man or old, every fibre of his body, mind, and spirit will search for someone or something to turn to--someone who is understanding and who will show forgiveness without reservations. And it is inevita-ble that sooner or later he must come to realize that the someone or something that fills all his desperately needed requirements is the Someone who has always been standing by to forgive, forget, and accept. Happy indeed is the individual who brings a Bible to prison with him. Very few prisons provide a newcomer with this precious and cherished book. Many times I have overheard convicts state their desire and need for a Bible. In some prisons the chaplains provide these holy texts out of their own pockets. To my knowledge and experience, though, no American prison voluntarily supplies them to their inmate population. I assume that the reason for this seemingly official attitude is felt to be in keeping with our inherent American principle of freedom of religion, or in this instance, freedom from religion. + ÷ ÷ TI~ l:leIplul Liter VOLUME 29, ~.970 4, 4, Alan Ambo~n REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS :374 Again drawing from personal experience, I know just how fertile a field for converts prisons are. Much has been written about our jails and prisons being breeding places for more crime, moral deterioration, and physical perversion. This, too often, is the case. Men who are lonely, devoid of hope, ambition, and initiative are easily led. The professional criminal and perennial jailbird are too often the leaders. These emotional and moral misfits know only one path to take. If a man can-not find the comfort and solace he desperately needs in this crisis of his life from friends and family, he will seek these two important factors in one of two places: with his equally despondent, lonesome, and lost fellow-convicts, or in his God. And there are infinitely more convicts in prisons than there are messengers of the Lord. Peace of mind and acceptance of God's will are even more important in an imprisoned man's life than it is in a free man's. For, having broken both God's as well as man's laws, the prisoner is usually weighted down with a double sense of guilt and remorse. And many times I have seen the moral and spiritual rebirth of an individ-ual brought about by his reintroduction to his Maker through the Bible. I was born of God-loving Roman Catholic parents. In our home, belief and respect for God were made part of our daily lives. Furthermore, He was a most essential part. I was sent to parochial and higher schools and, as a result, was well versed in the fundamentals of my faith. It was only after I stupidly and callously began to disregard the teachings and tenets of my faith that I began to ruin my life, and even worse, the lives of those who loved, believed, and trusted me. That, to me, is the greatest tragedy of the man in prison--those he left on the outside. Like so many of my ilk, stewing in bitterness and shame, I gave little thought to God during my first years of imprisonment, particularly after I was no longer a "fish." I turned completely deaf ears to the overtures of the prison chaplain and to well-intentioned state of-ficials. My attitude was one of "these state officials put me in here and now they are trying to persuade me that they want to help me; how stupid do they think I am?" That's a question I often ask myself these days. I know now how stupid this line of destructive thinking is, but I didn't in those earlier days. I know, too, that this is the line of thought that most new inmates take. Out of sheer boredom and because it afforded me an opportunity to get out of my cell for an hour, I attended a few church services. But if I actually thought of God at all, it was to blame Him for having failed me--never my having failed Him. That should give you an idea of how stupid a man in prison can be. That old clichd of "misery loves company" really gets a workout in prison. I recall vividly some of the discussions I had with fellow-convicts during my first days in the "joint." Few, if any, were ever in a construc-tive vein. They were almost always filled with bitterness and recriminations; not directed at ourselves where they rightfully belonged, but at our captors, our wardens, and even at our families and friends. As for me, per-sonally, I was the epitome of bitterness, frustration, and hopelessness. Through my own stupidity and cupidity I had lost my family and friends (so I thought at the time), and instead of doing anything constructive about regaining these lost loved ones, I submerged myself in a sea of self-pity in which I almost drowned. I was simply over-flowing with moral indifference, false pride, and per-verted thinking. I was fast approaching a point of no return. That is the point in a man's life when one more foolish or careless mistake can completely and irrevoca-bly preclude any possibility of his again becoming a use-ful, acceptable part of the human race. Then, I met a convict named Alex. One day during a recreational period in the yard, an inmate I didn't know came up to me. Though I had never spoken to this convict, I knew about him. I had first noticed him through a peculiar habit he had. I should clarify that by stating that this habit was pecu-liar in prison; he carried a book under his arm wherever he went. Upon asking some of the other inmates about this, I was told that he was a "lifer" who had already served twenty years, who had little or no hope of a pardon or parole, and that he was a religious fanatic. In prison, the term "religious fanatic" has a wide meaning, ranging from a man who goes to church services once a year to a man who attends services regularly. Another thing that set this inmate in a separate category with his fellow-convicts was that he was a "loner." A "loner" in prison jargon is a convict who stays strictly to himself, has no friends or close associates, and never participates in any prison activities. Even the prison officials look askance at this type of a convict and pay particular at-tention to his every move. For "loners" are the ones who most frequently crack mentally or emotionally. This prisoner I am writing of was in his early fifties, of a serious demeanor, short and on the heavy side, and whose face, though handsome, was lined with suffering. His eyes indicated character and depth. The moment he spoke to me I knew he was well educated. He was courteous and had an air of quiet dignity about him, 4. 4. 4. VOLUME 2% 1970 375 + 4. Alan Ambovn REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS and I immediately sensed an aura of well-being and contented resignation emanating from him. He wasted no time on social discourse. His opening words were: "Alan, I understand you are a Catholic." As he saw the look of complete bewilderment on my face, he continued: "Father Jerome told me that you had been educated in Catholic schools and that you might be able to help me with my catechism. You see, I am a convert and I'm hoping to be baptized in the near future." I was too amazed to answer him. The first thought that went through my head was that this was a gag of some sort, perpetrated by the fellows I had been hanging around with. Noticing my hesitancy and seeming to read my mind, he went on: "I'm really serious about this, Alan, and though I haven't much, I'd be willing to pay you for your trouble." Something in his manner told me that he was in earnest, but I still hesitated. Finally, I asked him: "How come you and Father Jerome picked on me? I haven't been to Mass since coming here and, as a matter of fact, I have not even been inside a church in over two years." "We never discussed that," he replied. Then he con-tinued: "All we talked about was your school back-ground. Alan, there are a lot of fellows getting instruc-tions and Father, with all his other work, is getting snowed under. When I asked if there were any Catholic men here that might help me, your name came up. As I'm sure you know, each Catholic convert needs a baptismal sponsor. I have no family or friends, so I thought that you might." His voice trailed off, as if in embarrassment, and he waited to see what I would say. When I didn't answer, he said: "I swear to you that there was nothing put on or planned about my asking you this. Your name was alphabetically first and that is how I chose you. Father even warned me that you would not be very receptive to the idea, but I thought otherwise. I guess I was mis-taken. If you'd rather not do it, that's okay, too." He started to walk away. I perhaps will never know just what made me stop him, but stop him I did. It probably was the wisest decision I ever made: "If Father Jerome and you think I am qualified to help you, it's all right with me. Forget that talk about paying me. Remember this, though, it has been a long time since I've seen a catechism book or even discussed religion. You might very well know more about the subject than I do. If you really feel that I can be of some assistance, it's a deal." To this day I don't know what Father Jermone's mo- tives were in sending Alex to me. I honestly can't say whether he had a motive or not; but whatever the case, it helped the two of us. Alex was baptized and I re-turned to my lost faith. As I told Alex, I was very rusty on my catechism and had to do a lot of research. Alex's knowledge of the Bible was far superior to mine; and though, at first, he was kind enough to pretend that this was not the case, it wasn't long before I was the student and Alex was the tutor. His tremendous grasp of both the New and Old Tes-taments was amazing. He could quote verbatim lengthy passages from both texts and never in a parrot-like man-ner. He had a profound understanding of its parables and lessons. No matter what subject or problem we might be discussing, he could find a parallel in the Holy Book, and no matter how bleak a person's outlook on life might be, Alex's Biblical parallels always seemed to offer comfort and hope to the individual. Though I don't believe he ever realized it, Alex was a salesman for the Lord; and he was a good one. The one thing that impressed me and everyone who knew him was his obvious sincerity and his calm acceptance of a fate that was, by all standards, unenviable. As I mentioned previously, he was serving a life sentence with little or no hope of pardon. The fact that this out-wardly didn't raze him and his seemingly calm accept-ance of spending the rest of his life behind bars natu-rally puzzled me. I told him so on one occasion. He explained that when he had first arrived at the prison he had been bitter and lost. Due to his behavior pattern, he had spent forty-nine months of the first five years of his sentence in solitary confinement. It was during one of these sessions of enforced solitude that Alex was given a Bible. Sheer boredom and the lack of anything else to read led to his initial interest in the Book. He honestly admitted that this interest was fostered by a human desire to do something--anything--to help pass the endless hours he was forced to spend alone. Alex had never spoken of the crime that had put him in prison; and I, in keeping with prison custom, had never asked him. However, it was common "yard" gossip that it was murder. Alex told me that his behavior problem came from his overactive conscience and his inability to forget what he had done. He was in a position that thousands of convicts find themselves in. For though soc!ety had in-dicted, convicted, and punished him, and then legally forgotten him by reason of more notorious and head-lined crimes, Alex himself could not forget nor forgive ÷ + + VOLUME 29, 1970 4. ÷ Alan Amborn REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 378 what he had done. His misbehavior and antagonistic attitude was a masochistic drive to punish himself. One day while going through the Bible in his solitary cell, he came across the story of Mary Magdalene. It fascinated him. Here was someone who had been steeped in sin like he was and who had asked for and had been given mercy and forgiveness. He went on with his reading, this time deeply impressed and eager. When he came to the story of the crucifixion, he was spell-bound. The agony and torture that Jesus went through wrung his heart. He told me that for the first time in his adult life, he wept. When he came to the climax of the great tragedy, the scene in which Christ, suffering unto death, took time out from His final agonies to forgive His murderers and the Good Thief hanging beside Him, Alex said a wave of understanding and peace descended on him. He said that he had gotten down on his knees to pray, and that while doing so he suddenly and finally knew that he had someone to turn to. Someone who would understand and forgive and who would give him a chance to atone for his sins and his crimes. This knowledge was what permitted Alex to accept his fate and lot so calmly. Through Alex and his application of the Bible in his daily life, I came to know and realize that many of our everyday seemingly insoluble problems have answers that can be found in the Holy Book. The trials and tribulations of our daily lives seem minute in compari-son to what the people of Biblical times faced. I believe that anyone possessed of an inherent sense of honesty detests hypocrisy. Convicts are no different. Any prison chaplain is constantly bombarded with this hackneyed excuse: "Padre, I didn't go to church on the outside, why should I be a hypocrite and start going now?" It's true, the words may differ on occasion, but the philosophy never changes. In many ways this atti-tude could be interpreted as an admirable quality in a man if it were not, in the case of the convict, such a stupid and senseless one. Anyone taking the time to look through the Bible can find any number of instances where even the most devoted and revered of God's saints were at one time in their lives steeped in sin and wickedness. Some, such as St. Paul, were even violently opposed to the teachings of Christ, God's beloved Son. From persecutor of the members of Christ's Church to a pillar of that Church is certainly a complete turn about in policy and belief. In other words, St. Paul was certainly no hypocrite. As Alex often pointed out to me, if the Lord could forgive and accept into His heavenly kingdom the murderer and thief hanging on the adjoining cross to Him; if He could forgive and accept into His earthly entourage Mary Magdalene, a woman who was a con-fessed harlot; if He, in His infinite mercy and in His dying agonies could even forgive His murderers, why, then, surely it should not be beyond belief and compre-hension that He could and does accept a modern-day sinner. His Bible constantly reminds us that eternal salvation is ours for the asking. Remember His very words, "Ask and you shall receive." I honestly believe that convicts might ask more often if they had Someone to show or to tell them how. To-day's prisons certainly offer a. fertile field for present-day missionaries. For just as the man or woman dying of pneumonia or a similar infectious disease needs the shot of penicillin more that the ,healthy man does, so does the acknowledged and convicted sinner need the word of God and the comfort and solace that word gives us all. And should any skeptic question the worth of these ¯ sinners and the redeeming of them, I humbly suggest that he read the Parable of the Prodigal Son. + + + VOLUME 29, ~.970 379 FREDERICK A. BENNETT What Makes a Happy (or Unhappy) Nun? Fr. Frederick A. Bennett is intern-ing in clinical psy-chology and lives at St. Therese Rec-tory; 1243 Kingston; Aurora, Colorado 80010. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Innumerable books and articles have been written about nuns during the past few years. Yet very little empirical evidence has been brought forth supporting the contentions of the authors. Thousands of nuns have left their communities yet there is a dearth of scientific findings either explaining why these nuns have left or probing the present feelings of those remaining. This study was an attempt to provide a few basic facts relating to psychological factors, particularly happiness, as found today among American nuns. 950 sisters, chosen at random from an original mail-ing list of 35,000 individuals from 91 different active communities across the United States, were mailed a questionnaire in March of 1969. The form used had been tested on a pilot study in late 1968, had under-gone some revision due to findings on that pilot study, and was composed of 54 questions in its final form. Novices and postulants were deliberately excluded. Su-periors, when they could be identified, were replaced by non-superiors in the same convent. The nuns in-volved were guaranteed anonymity both for themselves and for their communities, were told that the results would be made available at least to people in a position to act on the findings, and were then asked for their cooperation. The hoped for cooperation was magnificent. One follow-up letter was mailed and at the conclusion, 853 sisters had returned their questionnaires. This totaled 88% of all possible respondents. The average age of those replying was 4'~ years. The results give a broad cross section of thinking and feelings of pro-fessed American nuns in non-leadership positions. An obvious caution is warranted, however, before considering some of the results. The findings cannot be applied to any individual sister. For example, age is found to correlate highly with happiness. It is dear, however, that this is a generalization. There are happy and unhappy nuns at every age level. But for those who are concerned about th~ future direction of religious life and what must be done on a broad scale to give it the greatest chance of surviving and growing, such generalizations can be of great value. This project falls into a category of psychological studies measuring "avowed happiness" or the happi-ness which a subject claims for himself. Such studies have a long history dating back at least until the 1920s. Recently, however, more extensive work in this area has been carried out through several centers of investigation. Two of the more notable undertakings were those carried out by Gurin and his associates in 19571 and by Bradburn and Caplovitz in 1962.2 The latter concentrated on four small towns in Illinois, two of which were economically depressed, and thus they have a dearly biased sample. Gurin, however, used a nationwide sample of 2460 people "selected by methods of probability sampling to represent all American adults over 21 years of age living in private house-holds." Gurin and associates, Bradburn and Caplovitz, and the present study all asked respondents to note what they considered to be their present level of happiness on a tripartite scale using the classifications of "Very happy," "Pretty happy," or "Not too happy." Despite the simi-larity of responses, however, the results are not ex-actly comparable because of other differences. For example, the replies from the sisters were obtained by mailed questionnaires while the other two projects used personal interviews. Nonetheless, curiosity at least, calls for a comparison of the results of the three studies. Bradburn and Caplovitz (women only) Gurin and associates (women only) Nuns Very happy 23% IPretty happy 60% 50% Not too happy 17% = 100% 12%--- 100% 13% = 100% A comparison of the replies of the subjects of Brad- + burn and Caplovitz in the four small Illinois towns ÷ with the answers of the sisters shows the religious to have both a higher percentage making "Very happy" XG. Gurin, J. Veroff, and S. Feld, Americans View Their Mental Happy Nun? Hea¯lth (New York: Basic Books, 1960). VOLUME 29, 1970 2 N. Bradburn and D. Caplovitz, Reports on Happiness: A Pilot Study o/ Behavior Related to Mental Health (Chicago: Aldine, 1965). 381 replies and a lower percentage giving "Not too happy" responses. As was mentioned above, however, by re-stricting their sample to the four small towns, the atuhors also assured themselves of a biased sample. When the replies of the sisters are compared with the subjects in Gurin's nationwide sample, there is vir-tually no difference in the total responses of the two groups. But a very important difference is found when replies are analyzed by age of respondent. A comparison with Gurin's work by age group shows the following: Gurin (all subjects) Nuns Percentage giving "Very happy" responses Under 35 35-44 45-54 55 and over 40% a~% a4% 27% 31% 31% 36°/o 39°/o ÷ ÷ F. A. Bennett REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 382 Gurin (all subjects) Nurl8 Percentage Under 35 giving "Not too happy" responses 35-44 45-54 55 and over 10% 13% 18% 15% ~4% 9% Thus as those who live outside of the convents grow older they show a gradual decrement in "Very happy" responses and an increase of "Not too happy" replies. But for the nuns the trend is in the opposite direction. The nuns who are older tend to have a greater per-centage of their members answering in the "Very happy" category than do younger nuns. Likewise, these older sisters have fewer making "Not too happy" re-sponses. The youngest nuns while claiming less happi-ness than the older nuns also avow less happiness than their age counterparts outside of religious life. One immediate reason that might be advanced for the trend toward greater happiness with advancing age among nuns is that less satisfied members of communi-ties have tended to leave and the more satisfied have tended to remain with the passage of years in religion. This does not seem, however, to account for all of the differences since nuns in the older groups today have lived most of their religious lives in a period when leaving the convent after profession was often the exceptional case. Moreover, the younger groups have already suffered a severe depletion of their ranks and yet the ones who remain are much less happy than those in the older groups. A factor that is considered to contribute to the lessened happiness in older people outside of convents is the loneliness that comes to elderly people through loss of a spouse or breakup of the family. The nuns do not have the problem of widowhood and remain with their communities regardless of their age, This may explain, at least partially, why the older nuns claim greater happiness than older non-nuns. It does not ex-plain, however, the differences between older and younger sisters since both seem to have the same op-portunities to avoid loneliness. But since the degree of loneliness is an important factor in the lives of many, and perhaps most people, a question in the present study was directed toward the investigation of their relative loneliness. The question was phrased as follows: How frequently do you feel lonely? Often __Occasionally __Seldom __Never An analysis of replies to this question uncovered a significant negative correlation between loneliness and the basic question of happiness. Actually, the correla-tion of happiness with loneliness was greater than the correlation of happiness with any other element of the nun's life that was tapped in this study. The basic cor-relation between the two was --.50 which could be expected far less than once in a thousand times simply on the basis of chance alone. The meaning of this correlation is that those who tend to report more frequent instances of loneliness also tend to claim sig-nificantly less happiness for themselves. The question must arise in every correlation as to which is the cause and which is the effect. Thus in the present case, does the loneliness cause the unhappiness, or do those who are unhappy tend to be lonely because they are unhappy? Or is some third factor causing both the loneliness and the unhappiness? Although the ques-tion is insoluble at the present time, one of the sugges-tions that will be made later in this article is based on the premise that loneliness is causing some of the unhappiness and that a major point of concentration should be that of overcoming loneliness. Other significant correlates of happiness were also found. In advance it was hypothesized that three ele-ments would figure prominently in the overall 'happi-ness of nuns. These three can be summarized as inter-personal relations, job satisfaction, and leadership. All were found to be significantly correlated with happiness. Loneliness was considered as pertaining 'to inter-personal relations. But there were also other questions + + + What Makes a Happy Nun? VOLUME 29, 1970 383 pertaining to interpersonal relations that showed a high correlation with happiness. For example, one of the questions asked: Do you feel that the majority of sisters with whom you live really are interested in you as a person? ._____Definitely ___.Probably ~robably not Those who are happier tend to say that they feel that other members of the convent are interested in them as a person and those who are less happy take a dimmer view of the interest of others. In job satisfaction, another highly significant correla-tion with happiness (.34, p. < .001) was found. Those who said they found their job more satisfying also tended to be happier. Leadership was also significantly correlated (.34, p < .001) with happiness. The more favorably the sister rated her superior, the happier she was likely to be. The immediate conclusion is that interpersonal re-lations, job satisfaction, and evaluation of leadership are all significantly related to happiness. But it is most interesting that of the three, leadership and job sati~- faction are less important than interpersonal relation-ships. This is especially worthy of consideration because so much more effort at renewal in many communities seems to be directed toward improving job satisfaction and changing leadership patterns rather than toward improvirig interpersonal relations among the nuns themselves. + ÷ ÷ F. A. Bennett REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Leadership An example of leadership modifications is found in communities that have eliminated the local superior. The opportunity to investigate the benefits of this change in leadership role was available in this study since 123 sisters said that they were living in a convent in which there was no local superior. In examining these figures, however, it should be remembered that not having a superior allows for a diversity of ways of being carried out in practice; and no attempt was made to define more exactly what each of the 123 nuns meant when she said that she had no local superior. But taking all those without a superior as one group, no significant difference in happiness was found be-tween those having a superior and those not having one. There was actually a slight tendency for those with a superior to claim greater happiness than those without a superior but this may have been merely a chance happening that would be reversed on another sample. The following are the percentage of responses in both groups: Have a superior Do not have a superior Very happy Pretty happy Not too happy 37% 49% 14%-- 100% 32% ~4% ~4% = ioo% Therefore it appears that simply not having a superior does not necessarily improve chances for happiness among members of the community. Sisters who had a local superior were asked to rate their superior in the following question: How do you evaluate the job of leadership being done by your present local superior? __.Excellent ~_Fair ~.Poor __.Very poor An interesting comparison appears when those who do not have a superior are matched with those rating their superior either high or low. Sisters rating superior good/excellent Sisters rating superior poor/very poor No superior Very happy ~6% 23% 32% Pretty happy 46% Not too happy 8% = 1oo% 33% := 100% i4% = 100% Thus being without a local superior is not as favor-able as having a good superior but is preferable to hav-ing a superior whom the subject feels is doing a poor job. Another area that is of importance today in the question of leadership is that some local communities are able to choose their superior in contrast to the former policy of having all superiors appointed either by the major superior or by vote of the chapter. In this study 82 nuns said that they had been allowed to select their own superior. For this group the following percentages were found: Very happy Pretty happy Not too happy Chose their own 50% 40% 10% = 100% superior ÷ ÷ 4. What Malws a These figures indicate that being able to elect a VOLO~E mo ~gro superior is a very desirable arrangement. Gomparing $85 these figures with those given above for sisters rating their superior as good or excellent, the groups are very similar in their avowals of happiness. Consequently it seems preferable to elect a superior rather than to eliminate her altogether. Election is also, of course, far preferable to having a poor superior imposed from above. + + F. A. Bennett REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 386 Departures Sisters have been leaving in substantial numbers dur-ing recent years. To determine the unrest that still re-mains in the convents the following question was asked: During the past six months, which of the following would describe feelings or thoughts you have had about leaving religious life? (60%) I have not considered leaving (23%) I have considered leaving but not seriously (10%) I have seriously considered leaving but have de-cided against it (5%) I have seriously considered leaving and may do so (2%) I will probably leave 100% (The percentage of sisters responding in each way is noted in parentheses before each response.) Although the majority of nuns have not considered leaving during the past six months, a substantial minor-ity of 40% have at least had the idea of leaving enter their minds during that period. Moreover, 17% have seriously considered such a possibility. Thus, although only 7% were still seriously considering leaving when this study was conducted, there is a large group that is somewhat shaky and it is not unlikely that many of this group will again have the idea of departing enter their minds. In addition those who do actually leave will probably intensify thoughts of leaving in others and may induce such thoughts in some of those who have not considered it. It appears, therefore, under this inter-pretation of the figures that the exodus from convents is far from completed unless very drastic changes come about in the thinking of present members. When thoughts of leaving are analyzed by age of respondent, very important differences are again noted. The percentages in each age group are on p. 387. As would be expected, the younger groups are much more likely to be thinking of leaving than are the older nuns. But the extent of the differences between the groups is rather surprising. It is especially important that 73% of the youngest group has considered leaving and 40% have seriously considered it. Thus those who will be leaving will usually be the ones who formerly would be carrying the hopes for religious life in the Have not considered leaving Considered but not seri-ously Seriously considered leav-ing May leave Probably will leave Under 28 ] 27% 33% 10% 100% 28-34 43% 15% 7% lOO% 35-44 57% 25% 8% 8% 2% 100% 4~-55 66% 5% 100% Over 55 89% 4% 0% 0% 1oo% future. A further comment on the ramifications of this will be made later in this article. Other Findings Religious life is directed in large measure toward supernatural and eternal goals. The question arises whether remaining in religious life is dependent on present happiness. There was another highly significant correlation of .47 between happiness and the tendency to remain. This strongly suggests that they are related. Regardless, therefore, of how religious life may have been viewed by spiritual writers in the past, in today's convents present happiness is of importance. The nuns who are less happy are generally the ones who are doing the most thinking about leaving. Religious life cannot be divorced from the spiritual activities of the sisters. But in trying to analyze the influence of spirituality, many very obvious and perhaps insoluble problems arise. Because of these difficulties a very simple question was asked. This question did not attempt to assess the influence that the spirituaI ac-tivities have. It merely inquired about the satisfac-tion that the sister receives. The question was phrased in this manner: How would you describe your usual feelings about the daily spiritual exercises that you are expected to perform? __.I find them very satisfying .I find them somewhat satisfying __.I get little human satisfaction from them Another significant correlation was found with hap-piness. Those who are happier tend to receive greater ÷ satisfaction from their spiritual exercises. But here ÷ especially, the relationship of cause and effect is blurred. ÷ Such a finding could signify that because the sisters are What Makes a happier they thereby tend to be more satisfied with Happy Nun? their spirituality. But it could also signify that because the sister receives greater satisfaction from her formal VOLUME 29, 1970 praying, she thereby tends to be happier. Or again, a 387 ÷ ÷ ÷ F. A. Bennett REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ~388 third and unknown factor may well be present which is influencing both happiness and satisfaction from spirit-ual exercises. Much research iri past years in social psychology has been devoted to the ideal size of various types of groups. Generally, the best size is found to be less than 12. It was therefore somewhat surprising to find that the number of people residing in the convent in which the sister lives had little effect on her happiness. There were similar reports of happy and unhappy sisters in all sizes of convents. Size was related, however, to some other aspects of the sisters' lives. For example, signifi-cantly more indications of jealousy were found in the largest convents. Conclusions Religious life as we know it seems to be headed for more rough days ahead. Unrest among the nuns is far from terminated. With 40% of the sisters saying that they have at least considered the possibility of leaving their communities within the previous six months, ~many more departures can be anticipated. Moreover, the thoughts of leaving are heavily con-centrated among the younger age groups. When this factor is combined with the importance of interpersonal relationships among the nuns, another disturbing pre-dicament becomes apparent. The younger members are tending to leave more rapidly than the older; if this trend continues, the average age of members of the communities will advance. New young members enter-ing the community in the future will find it all the more difficult to find convents when they go on mission that are staffed by nuns of their own age. A consequence would seem to be that these young nuns of the future will have even greater difficulty in establishing close relationships with other nuns and therefore the chances for loneliness will increase. It is certainly possible and often happens that a young nun finds companionship and meaningful re-lationships with older nuns. But it is more likely for the young nun to find that necessary companionship among nuns of her own age level. Again, this study was not related only to individuals as such, many of whom will go contrary to the findings of this work. Rather the concern was with the overall conditions of religious life. Here it can be said that as the average age of sisters increases, a larger proportion of young nuns will likely find it increasingly difficult to overcome the loneliness that is probably causing some present problems. A personal anecdote may be appropriate here. I re- cently had contact with a large community of contem-plative nuns in which the youngest member had already celebrated her silver jubilee in the community. This convent had not been able to retain the few novices or postulants that had been with them in recent years. Moreover, it would seem to me to be a minor miracle if any young women could be found to enter and re-main in a convent where they would have to bear with such a wide disparity of age. Fortunately such cases are not common today; but unless solutions can be found, it seems likely that other communities, both active and contemplative, may experience somewhat similar difficulties in the coming decades. Further evidence for the stumbling blocks that wide age discrepancies can pose for religious life comes from one of the open-ended questions that were included in the questionnaire. The nuns were asked what they found to be the least satisfying or most discouraging aspect of their life as a religious. The differences be-tween the age groups were striking. For example, a 59 year old nun answered: "The frustration with some younger members." A 30 year old sister said: "Judgmental attitudes of older sisters toward myself." A 73 year old sister pinpointed the age gap saying: "The lack of close communication between the much older sister and the New Modern Sister." Perhaps the split between the generations was most apparent in the attitudes toward change. Frequently the older nuns were most disturbed by what seemed to them to be excesses and the younger were distressed by what they considered to be the hesitancy of some members to change. This was not universal, however, as a few of the older came out with high praise" for the changes but these latter were the exceptions. In general, the generation gap was clear. But as important as age is in laying a foundation for compatibility among sisters, similar age does not insure good interpersonal relations. There are other elements involved in coming to an understanding and meaning-ful relationship with another person or persons. Many psychological, intellectual, and emotional factors are involved. Outside of religious life, freedom of the in-dividuals to choose the companions they wish to have takes account of some of these factors. Freedom to choose one's own companions has never been considered feasible in religious life until very re-cently when it has been tried in a few communities. There was no opportunity in this study to test the value of such a procedure. But an indication of the possible advantages of this arrangement may be inferred fi:om the decided advantage noted of being able to select What ~l~l~e~ a Happy Nun? VOLUME 2% 1970 389 ÷ ÷ F. A. Bennett REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 390 one's own superior. This latter also was not considered feasible until very recent years. With all of the inherent problems involved in being able to select the ones that the sister wishes to live and work with, further con-sideration of such a possibility seems warranted. Additional training in the development of interper-sonal relationships during the novitiate and juniorate may also prove advantageous. Some communities have used sensitivity training and T-groups for this purpose. Unfortunately, there is again no empirical evidence to base a sound judgment upon as to the advantages of such training. But in view of the problems connected with interpersonal relationships within the convents, such training merits consideration and research. Decreasing loneliness among the sisters is not solely dependent upon interpersonal relationships within the convent itself. Nonetheless, community life should be a basic bulwark against loneliness. As of now, however, community life is sometimes [ailing to accomplish this. The findings of this study, however, were not com-pletely negative. There was strong evidence that loneli-ness is not an inherent part of religious life. Not a few of the nuns recounted their experiences in having deep friendships with other sisters as one of the great plus values of religious life. In response to the question: "What do you consider the most satisfying aspect of your life as a religious?" a 34 year old sister replied: "The sisters I live with at the present time." A 64 year old sister replied to the same question saying succinctly: "The sisters." "Community living; the spirit of our com-munity (friendliness and joy)," was the response of a 28 year old nurse. A 39 year old teacher answered that it was "living with sisters who are interested in me as a person," while a 53 year old sister cited "the possibility [or personal fulfillment found in community living" as the most satisfying part of her religious life. It is obvious from these responses that loneliness does not have to accompany religious life. But it has also been shown above that community life does not insure that loneliness will not be present. In summation it can be said that new approaches to interpersonal relationships are needed. The gravity of this need is brought into focus by the distinct possibility that the whole question could become academic. With 70% of the youngest group already considering leav-ing the trend could conceivably be against the continued existence of present type congregations. Reversal of such a trend is not impossible but will take much concen-trated effort. LOUIS TOMAINO The Sister as an Agent oJ.Change As Warren Bennis and his colleagues have suggested, radical change is the one constant which seems to char-acterize this age.1 It seems clear that change is occurring in both the church and in religious orders of women. Sisters are all too familiar with problems of change for they are confronted with the problem of trying to bring about meaningful change in their congregations. They have the task of sorting out planned change from ac-cidental change so that only the more constructive as-pects of the process may be realized and the sisters helped to find more satisfying levels of community existence. Change in this instance may be the basic con-dition for the freedom without which religious life might well become increasingly difficult and unreward-ing; yet, from the standpoint of short range needs, it is often more comfortable for individual sisters not to change. The reluctance of an individual to give up old ways of doing things is understandable when one con-siders the meanings change may have for those who face it. : Out of the many things which could be said about sisters and change, we have selected the idea that sister is an "agent of change" in her own community. If this is true, it might also be added that, in general, she plays the same role in the Church itself and in her apostolate. In the past two years, we have held group dynamics workshops with over 1000 sisters from various congrega-tions during which time we have stressed the change agent concept. In their case, the issue no longer seems to be whether change should occur, but rather, what change is to be encouraged and how might it be facili-tated? This paper reports on some things which char-acterize sisters and change. 1 Warren G. Bennis, Kenneth D. Benne, and Robert Chin, The Planning of Change (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1962). Louis Tomaino is the acting direc-tor of Worden School of Social Services; Our Lady of the Lake College; San Antonio, Texas 782O7. VOLUME 29, 1970 391 Robert Blake and Jane Mouton, two inventive be-havioral scientists, conceptualized a model called the managerial gridS which unified their lengthy study of management and organizational structures. This model proved highly successful in understanding the manage° rial process and helped .develop new techniques in management. Jay Hall and Martha Williams, social psychologists at the Southwest Center for Law and the Behavioral Sciences and former students of Blake and Mouton, utilized the grid concept with an instrument called the change grid. This grid was extremely valuable in workshops with the 1000 sisters. Sisters who are interested in meaningful community change might be expected to have some concerns about the quality of the change. These concerns provide the basic grid dimensions and are expressive of the sisters' thoughts. These are the concern for conformity (that members adhere to community norms) and the concern for commitment (that members truly internalize com-munity norms). Put another way, this says that sisters should comply with what the community expects but do so because they really accept and value those expectations. These dual concerns will affect the kind of change strategies a sister would utilize in her community. The two concerns are thought of as being independ-ent of each other. The sister may fuse them in some way in her relations with other community members but the concerns appear thusly in the beginning: C 0 M MITME NT (The complete grid appears on the following page) Loui~ 2"omai.o REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS CONFORMITY Different sisters impute varying strengths to these con-cerns. Those who perceive themselves as "traditional-ists" may exhibit more conformity interests, while those who view themselves as "progressives" might prefer commitment concerns in their approaches to change. So ~ Robert Blake and Jane Mouton, The Managerial Grid (Hous-ton: Gulf Publishing Co., 1964). that we might consider "how much" concern sisters manifest, each axis is scaled from 1 to 9. The value 1 will mean "low concern for" while the unit 9 will de-note "high concern for." Three methods of securing change assume that the concerns for conformity and commitment are in con-flict-- that communities cannot hope to insure both ends and must thereby choose one over the other. These methods (reading grid fashion, fight and up) are the 9/1, 1/9, and I/1 approaches. High THE CHANGE GRID ~/9 Ptrson-~Tentsred Clu~ng~t : There is a natural trend toward personal growth once an individual is free to accept himself. The task of the change agent is to help the person accept his strengths and weaknesses without the judgmental pressures of othersD values being in-troduccd. Then he will be able to accept both society and its values. 9/9 C~ang¢ ola CndiMli~y : Since behavior is learned, it may b~ modified through relearning. The change agent's task is one of creating conditions under which people can learn the consequences of current behavior and explore the feasibility of new behavior~ in realistic settings. Reality testing resalts in conformity based on commitment. Low Charismatic ~hangt : People accept suggestions only from people they can respect. The change agent must be "one of the guys" ff he is to gain enough prestige to influence. Changees will copy his behavior to win his respect and will then learn it is better. ~ustodial No one person can really change another. People only conform or fail to conform if they want to. The task of the change agent nccessarily is one of apprising the changce of the rules and then leaving it up to him to decide whether he wants to follow them and stay out of t~ouble or break them and suffer the conse-quences. At the same time, the change agent must keep those in authority informed as to how the changee is behaving. 9/t C~angt Via C~mplianrt: It may not be possible to change a personDs attitude, but one can change his behavior if he makes it elear what is expected of the changcc and what can happen if the changee fa~ls to conform. The change agent's taak is to transmit this information dearly and then to follow up by keeping "tabs'~ on the changee to see that he con-forms and knows that the change agent means business. 4 5 6 7 8 9 High Coastrn for Conformity The 9/1 .4pproach--Change through Compliance The lower right hand corner of the grid tells of that change strategy which is maximally concerned for con-fortuity and minimally concerned for commitment. This sister decides that community members cannot do both Agent oJ Change vo~u~ 2,, ~97o 393 Louis Tomaino REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ~9~ so it is better to use one approach and make it work. The 9/1 sister will likely express her philosophy in this manner: It's been my experience that people do things only when they have to. A lot of the time sisters can't possibly agree with the way the Church says they have to conduct themselves, but they have to nevertheless., or suffer the consequences. Once a per-son realizes this, he makes it easier on himself and everybody else. I think change can best be brought about by spelling out what is expected of a person and what provisions exist for dealing with him when he doesn't conform. My job, as an agent of change, is to work with persons closely and see that they follow the letter of the law so that their behavior is acceptable and in accordance with general values o£ the Church. The 9/1 strategy does bring about change in many instances. The thing communities need to be aware of is some of the consequences which this approach pro-duces in others. Such responses as fear, rebellion, re-sentment, and hostility are byproducts in others of the 9/1 stance. Such psychological outcomes are unfavor-able for effecting change in the people who have those feelings. Under this system the community must be run as a "tight ship" with few democratic overtones. Indeed, for many years religious communities functioned as 9/1 organizations. Some still do. However, other 9/1 systems like the military and the police have begun to change albeit imperceptibly. With the advent of Vatican II, religious orders have also witnessed a trend away from compliance oriented styles of management. It used to be that sisters' behaviors could be regulated under con-ditions allowing little deviation from specified require-ments, and that by this fait accompli effect sisters would eventually acquire commitment. This "legalized" ap-proach to change does not seem a very satisfactory method for inducing long term commitment. The 1/9.4pproach--Person-cente~ed Change The person-centered strategy represented in the upper left grid corner assumes that people want to gain the values of the congregation and will gravitate toward that end when they are "freed" to do so. Concerns for conformity are rejected as antithetical to free choice. Person-centered change is designed to help the sister ac-cept her own shortcomings as a means of finding herself in her community and accepting others as well. Trust and appreciation are central to this relationship and concerns for conformity are seen as "getting in the way" of real commitment. This sister would likely perceive matters as follows: Basically people want to live good lives and get along well in their communities, but many of them just don't knowhow. Too many people have never had the opportunity to get to know themselves and, consequently, they can't really accept themselves or other people. I think the job of an agent of change is to work closely with people so that they can first learn to accept themselves as genuinely important human be-ings. Then they will be able to accept and appreciate others as well and will feel worthy of the religious life. Once a person has gotten rid of his own self doubts, he will naturally begin to grow and seek out the solid values of his congregation. The job of the change agent is one of helping people find self-ac-ceptance and freedom of expression, on the basis of which real growth can occur." The 1/1 Approach--Laissez Faire Change CustodiaI change as depicted in the lower left-hand corner of the grid presumes that individuals are autoge-nous and change or fail to do so as a result of their own desires. This really is not a change strategy but more a reflection of the change agent's unique perception of his own role. These sisters believe in "the way we have always done things" and think that change is up to other persons. Her philosophy would read like this: I believe that in the long run it is impossible for one person to really change another. Human nature is the strongest determinant of behavior and some people are just naturally better than others. It seems to me that the best thing for an agent of change to do is to spell out the rules for people as clearly as he can and then let them make their own choice as to whether they are going to follow them or not. Where there are clear rules, there are also pretty clear consequences spelled out for any failure to conform. People are pretty much their own bosses and it isn't realistic for any one person to try to change them. At best, a change agent is a representative of his community who hopes and prays that others will obey. In the end this way of thinking will promote "don't rock the boat" values, and terminate in "rut." Idealistic 1/9 type candidates who enter the 9/I congregations might well end up making 1/1 adjustments, Psychic en-ergy gets diverted to secondary external matters such as housecleaning, posturing, gestures,, and various other correctness models. Under these conditions communities may appear to function smoothly because everything seems to be in order. Underlying this facade, however, is a profile of non-involvement by community members with each other and, sometimes, an apparently perfunc-tory apostolic performance. The 5/5 Approach--Charismatic Change In the grid center we find a 5/5 strategy which says that the sister must have concern for both conformity and commitment. However, this approach also states that the more concern exhibited for one means less for the other. In effect, this sister goes half way with both concerns. She seeks to gain the respect and affection of Agent o~ Change V0LU~E 29, 197o 395 Louis To'malne REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 396 others and utilizes this commitment to herself as a per-son to bring about change in others. Her philosophy is expressed along these lines: I think people basically resent being told what to do or what is expected of them by other people who don't really understand their problems or have had no experience in com-mon with them. I think the agent of change has to be a person who understands the situation of the people he is trying to change so that they will respect his judgment. The best way to bring about change is to first convince people that you are "one of them" and then set the exam.pie. When a person sees someone he respects and can trust acting a certain way, he will usually try to act the same way simply because he respects that person and wants to be respected by him in turn. This is a hard but effective way of bringing about change and the agent of change has to be sincere and willing to really give of his time. Change through 5/5 dynamics can be very effective. Its implementation is difficult because it requires a highly

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

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