Suchergebnisse

Every effort is being made to retain in the literature programs of the Soviet schools and universities all the best work of the Russian literary giants of the nineteenth century. There is even a trend in Soviet scholarship to place the best literary work of the Soviet period in the tradition of the nineteenth-century Russian classics. Lenin repeated time and again that it was necessary "to assimilate critically all that is valuable from the preceding culture." Some Soviet scholars go even further and claim that socialist realism and its best representatives are continuing the literary traditions of the great nineteenth-century Russian writers. Konstantin Fedin is thought of as one who continues Turgenev's "traditions of intellectualism" and shares his ability to be "a chronicler of his epoch, a creator of unforgettable women characters," and Sholokhov is regarded as a writer who further develops Tolstoy's style. Some Soviet critics even complain because there is no visible link in the educational programs to connect Mayakovsky with Pushkin and Lermontov.

This volume is the first in a series of four in which Professor Hollander will provide an analytical and critical assessment of the thought of the British school of classical economists. This study relates Smith's theoretical position to contemporary history and economic practice

This book does not fall into either the classical Haldane or Oparin schools of thought on the origin of life, but advances a thesis of its own, which, according to Professor C.H. Waddington, is one of the most important recent intellectual developments in this field.

This volume makes available to the modern reader selected writings of Thomas Taylor, the eighteenth-century English Platonist. TO Taylor we are indebted for the first full translation into English of Plato and Aristotle. Platonism, as Taylor saw it, was an informing principle, transmitted through a "golden chain of philosophers," a doctrine received by Socrates and Plato from the Orphic and Pythagorean past and transmitted to the future. It emerged again and again, enriched in the School of Alexandria, in Renaissance art, in the works of Spenser, Shelley, Yeats. Kathleen Raine is well known as a poet. GEorge Mills Harper is Professor of English, University of Florida. Bollingen Series LXXXVIII. Originally published in 1969. The Princeton Legacy Library uses the latest print-on-demand technology to again make available previously out-of-print books from the distinguished backlist of Princeton University Press. These editions preserve the original texts of these important books while presenting them in durable paperback and hardcover editions. The goal of the Princeton Legacy Library is to vastly increase access to the rich scholarly heritage found in the thousands of books published by Princeton University Press since its founding in 1905

The classical cold war period began with the founding of the Cominform in the fall of 1947 and ended with the death of Stalin in June, 1953. But, as the Soviet poet Yevtushenko has observed, "Stalin's Heirs" are still very much with us; not only Soviet but also U.S. policy is heavily burdened with the Stalinist heritage of the cold war period.For the USSR the Geneva Summit Conference cleared the way for the 1956 20th Party Congress and the new General Line which recognized that in a world threatened with thermonuclear holocaust, coexistence is better thari no-existence, and that war —meaning general war—is no longer inevitable.

Here begins a presentation of the evidence for the complexity of the great pre-Greek civilization, focused in Crete and bearing, from the dynasty of the Priest-King called Minos or the Minos, the name of Minoan. This Aegean civilization gave many gifts to the coming Greeks – to those who, using Minoan script to write proto-Greek, as Ventris and Chadwick have shown, established the Homeric civilization of Mycenae, and to those who, surviving the onslaught of the Dorian Greeks, finally established the comprehensive civilization of classical times. In this classical civilization even the initially destructive Dorians played a constructive part, but it was in the little land most influenced by the Minoan heritage, Attica, that Greece most characteristically became the Greece still transmitting to the rest of the world the remoter effects, at least, of the great epoch of the Priest-King. What will here be recounted is only a prelude, limited to the days before the Palace of the Minos was given to the flames, and may later be followed by themes developing the events of the Greek world proper; nevertheless, even a prelude may have a profound bearing on the coming symphony.

I. Citizen of Weimar -- Grillparzer and the humanistic tradition — the heritage of enlightened Josephinism — Kant's influence in Austria — the classical tradition and the poet's views on philosophy, politics and art. -- II. Grillparzer and the Nineteenth Century -- The impact of the romantic school — individualism and the emphasis of the emotions — the classical experience and the rise of materialism — the problem of free will — Grillparzer's agreement and conflict with his day. -- III. The Contact with Schopenhauer -- The scientific and the contemplative approach to the world — similarity in aesthetic principles — the imitation of nature and the function of art — rejection of history and the idea of progress — the problem of justice and the state. -- IV. Inspiration —' sammlung' and 'Begeisterung' -- Critical estimates of the inspiration theme — analysis of the inspiration motif in the works of Grillparzer with the exception of 'Libussa'. -- The Diaries -- The Prose Writings -- The Poems -- Letters and Documents -- Youthful Attempts. Dramatic Plans and Fragments -- The Dramas -- Grillparzer's Conversations -- The Rationalistic and Intuitive Components of Inspiration -- Grillparzer's affinity with the English romanticists: Wordsworth, Byron, Shelley, Keats, De Quincey — the inspiration motif and the poet's relationship to the eighteenth and the nineteenth century. -- V. 'Libussa' — the Last Phase of Inspiration -- The vital fifth act — short history of the criticism of the drama — the purported influence of Hegel and Kant — the collectivist view — political ideas in the play — 'Libussa' interpreted in the light of Grillpar-zer's inspiration concept — inspiration and Grillpar-zer's legacy on human destiny. -- >Conclusion.

The Chinese Literary Revolution of 1J1'(, originally concerned with the problem of replacing the classical language with the living language of the people as a medium for written communication, introduced a period of rapid change & experimentation in Chinese literature. During the 1920's & 1930's, pol'al as well as literary issues were involved in the debates over literary theory & practice. Nationalism & realism were dominant themes, & left-wing influence grew steadily. The Chinese Communist (C) approach to literature, specifically defined by Mao Tse-tung in 1942, was translated into a nationwide program for the writers with the C victory in 1949. Since then, `socialist realism' has been the guiding principle for all writing although C policy has selectively accepted certain segments of the Chinese literary heritage which meet their pol'al criteria. While the wide-spread use of new forms, techniques, & emphases resulting from the Western impact on China has been a notable feature of modern literature, nevertheless the element of 'realism' has definite historical antecedents in Chinese literary history. Thus both continuity and radical change have been present in the stream of modern Chinese literature. AA.

The Chinese Literary Revolution of 1917, origi nally concerned with the problem of replacing the classical lan guage with the living language of the people as a medium for written communication, introduced a period of rapid change and experimentation in Chinese literature. During the 1920's and 1930's, political as well as literary issues were involved in the debates over literary theory and practice. Nationalism and realism were dominant themes, and left-wing influence grew steadily. The Chinese Communist approach to literature, specifically defined by Mao Tse-tung in 1942, was translated into a nationwide program for the writers with the Communist victory in 1949. Since then, "socialist realism" has been the guiding principle for all writing although Communist policy has selectively accepted certain segments of the Chinese literary heritage which meet their political criteria. While the wide spread use of new forms, techniques, and emphases resulting from the Western impact on China has been a notable feature of modern literature, nevertheless the element of "realism" has definite historical antecedents in Chinese literary history. Thus both continuity and radical change have been present in the stream of modern Chinese literature.

Issue 31.3 of the Review for Religious, 1972. ; ASSOCIATE EDITOR Everett A. Diederich, S.J. QUESTIONS ANI) A N S\V E R S E 1) ITO R Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editor, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to 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, SJ.; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19106. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical approval by faculty members of the School of l)ivinity of St. Louis University, 01e editorial offices beihg located at 612 tlumboldt Building; 539 North (;rand Boulevard: St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Educalional In';titute. Published bimontbly 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 sbould indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and sbould 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 addre.~s. Renewals and new subscriptions should be sent to REVIEW I:OR RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 60 Duluth. Minnesota 55802. Manuscripts, editori-al correspondence, and books for review should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS: 612 [lumboldt Building; 539 North (;rand Boule-yard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to the address of tile Questions and Answers editor. MAY 1972 VOLUME 31 NUMBER 3 BENEDICT ASHLEY, O.P. ¯ Retirement or V gil? [ Benedict Ashley, O.P., is Profess6r of Theology at The Institute of Religion and Human " Development; Texas Medical Center; P.O. Box 20569; Houston, Texas 77025.] Retirement and the Work Ethic To provide for the retirement of senior members has bdcome an urgent task for many religious communities. D~clining vocations, risfng medical costs, changes in traditional apostolates and in sources of income demand that we develop new, organized ways to care for those who have reached that last, often lengthy phase of life which we Americans call "retirement." The action of Pope Paul VI in requesting even cardinals and bishops to retire acknowledges that in times of rapid change older persons, for all their expe~'ience and "tested virtue," often lack the energy and flexibility to carry on the apostolate. However reasonable this trend may seem to those long dist~int from the "cut-off point," it is prQducing great anxiety, discontent, . and bitterness in many aging religious. This intensifies the polarization against which many communities now struggle. Recently an elderly but very much alive sister said to me: "What a paradox that our community is how so concerned to give younger sisters free choice¯ of apostolates, while forcing older sisters to retire willy-nilly. I was told to retire last year without any consultation or discussion of my preferences. My only choice, which was no choice at all, was to come to this retirement house. The young are demanding small interpersonal communities. I must live with over a hundred sisters, most of them sick, some completely senile, although my health is good, my mind active, and I like to live with young people, 'where the action is.' " Of course, some communities take great pains to discuss the situation carefully with members who must retire from present apostolates, to give them choices and training for a "second career," or at least maximum opportunities for "semi-activity." They realize that the problem of these religious is, after all, only part of the larger geriatric problem in the United States which will probably increase still further as our national birthrate continues to decline, and the average age of Americans begins to rise. However, I wonder if the very term "retirement" does not reflect the dehumani-zation of our technological society. It is borrowed from the practice of American business and starkly reflects the "work ethic" dominating our culture, against which the counter-culture is rightly protesting. This ethic evaluates human 'worth only in terms of production, organizational efficiency, capacity for marketable innovation. It values "doing and making," but ignores the values of "being," unless they can be translated into commodities. Even without the protests of the .counter-culture, we should know from the gospel that "man does not live by bread alone" (Mt 4:4) and that we have been told "do not be anxious for what you are to eat or wear, because unbelievers are always. running after these things" (Mt 6:31-32). The values of the work ethic are real and ¯ 326 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 are not repudiated by the gospel, but they are .~ternly subordinated to a very different appreciation of what really counts in life. Let us retire the term "retirement," and even "semi-activity." The notion of "a second career" is better, yet it too has a work ethic flavor. Moreover to talk about "second careers" to religious for whom it seems nothing remains of life but suffering, prayer, and gradual decline is to coin another of those horrible euphemisms with which we today in our society of affluence indecently hide the unacknowledged' miseries of neglected poverty and death. We are Christians who ought to have the courage to face the facts of old age with a realism warmed by Christian hope. Trying to wrestle with this fact of life theologically, I have found in the gospel a theme which seems to me very relevant, the notion of vigil. Christian Vigil The current liturgical reform began with the renewal of the Paschal Vigil, called by St. Augustine "the mother of all vigils," because it sums up the expectation of all ages of Christ's victory over death. Its meaning is beautifully stated in the General Instruction bn the Liturgy of the Hours issued by the Holy See in 1971 (nos. 70-2): [St.Augustine writes] "by keeping vigil, we observe that night when the Lord,arose, and by his own flesh began in us that life which knows neither sleep nor death. ; then as we sing together to the risen Lord a little while longer by keeping vigil, he will grant us to reign with him by living forever." Asin the Easter Vigil, the custom soon arose in different churches t6 begin various solemn feasts by keeping vigil, notably in the Birth of the Lord and Pentecost. The Fathers and spiritual writers frequently urged the faithful, especially those who live a contemplative life, to nocturnal prayer, which expresses and fosters our waiting for the Lord?s return: "At midnight someone shouted, 'The groom is here! Come out and greet him!' " (Matthew 25:6); "Keep watch! You do not know when the master of the house is coming; whether at dusk, at midnight, when the cock crows, or at early dawn. Do not let him come suddenly and catch you asleep" (Mark 13:35-36). To implement this idea the Church in its new calendar has not only given the Paschal Vigil the central place in the liturgical year and retained the ~vigils of the Birth of the Lord and of Pentecost, but recommends the use of "Bible vigils" (Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, no. 35), and in the instruction just quoted encourages the use and development of the Office of Readings as a time of vigil, thus preserving the nocturns or night Office of the traditional Breviary. This last recommendation is not only for priests and nuns, but for the laity as well (Instruction, nos. 20-2). These liturgical reforms are rooted deeply in the New Testament. Jesus Himself prepared for the great moments of His life by keeping vigil. For forty days and nights (Mt 4:2) He prayed in the desert before beginning His ministry. Before extending it beyond Capernaum, He went to a "Ion.ely place" (Mk 1: 35) to pray till dawn. Before announcing His inevitable passion, He kept vigil with Peter, James, and John on the mount of transfiguration (Mk 9:1-8). On the eve of the passion He agonized in Gethsemane (Mk 14:32). In their turn the disciples and Mary kept vigil before Pentecost (Acts 1 : 14; 2:2). The newborn Christian community prayed for its leader Peter when he was in prison (Acts 12:5, 12), and before ordaining presbyters (4:23). Paul continued this custom on his missions (16:25). The significance of such vigils was indicated by Jesus Himself in many of His discourses and parables in which He urged his followers to "Watch, for you know Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 327 not the day nor the hour!" (Mt 25:13). If we look at the well-known work of Joachim Jeremias, The Parables of Jesus (rev. ed.; New York: Scribner's, 1963) we notice that he classifies the parables in ten groups: "1. Now is the Day of Salvation; 2. God's Mercy for Sinners; 3. The Great Assurance; 4. The Imminence of Catastrophe; 5. It May Be Too Late; 6. The Challenge of the Hour; 7. Realized Discipleship; 8. The Via Dolorosa and Exaltation of the Son of Man; 9. The Consummation; 10. Parabolic Actions." These very titles indicate how close all these themes are to the vigil concept, although groups 4, 5, and 6 are particularly pertinent. The parables constantly say: "Wake hp! Watch !" When we look at the Epistles we find that Peter and Paul and the others have the same pastoral advice. For example: Stay sober and alert. Your opponent the devil is prowling like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, solid in yo6r faith, realiz!ng that the brotherhood of believers is undergoing the same sufferings throughout the world. The God of all grace, who called you to his everlasting glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish those who have suffered a little while. Dominion be his throughout the ages. Amen (I Pt 5:8-10). Asregards specific times and moments, brothers, we do not need to write you; you know very well that the day of the Lord is coming like a thief in the night. Just when people are saying, "Peace and security," ruin will fall. You are not in the dark, brothers, that the day should catch you off guard, like a thief. No, all of you are children of light and of the day. We belong neither to darkness nor to night; therefore, let us not be asleep like the rest, but awake and sober! Sleepers sleep by night, and drunkards drink by night. We who live by day must be alert (1 Thes 5:1-8). The Theology of the Vigil To discover the the.ological meaning of these New Testament actions and teachings, we must begin with the obvious fact that a vigil is eschatological prayer. It is directed toward the future, toward Christ's victory over sin and death through Resurrection and Ascension, toward the coming of God's kingdom on earth through the mission of His Church, toward the universal transformation of the cosmos at Christ's Second Coming when all things will be summed up in Him in the glory of the Father (Phil 2:9-11 ; Col 1:15-20: Eph 1:18-23). A vigil is expectation in faith, hope, and yearning love directed to the future and eternal life. Its heart is joy, not the joy. of fulfillment, but the bitter-sweet joy of anticipation, a hunger and thirsting for the justice of God's reign. This is why a vigil humanly is a struggle to keep awake, to arouse ourselves from the oppression of drowsiness. The Apostles could not keep awake with Jesus in the Garden, because although "the spirit is willing, the .flesh is weak" (Mt 26:41). Luke says they slept because they were "exhausted with grief" (22:45). The weariness, discouragement, apathy, the numbing dread of waiting! Who has not waited in fear in a doctor's office? Waiting can be still more dreadful when we wait for some great joy, in growing doubt that it will ever come. During such painful times we all seek to escape the tension, to drug ourselves with some empty distraction or even sleep and forgetfulness. It is against this spiritual sleep that Jesus warns us. We must live in active hope, in wide-awake awareness, because in truth Jesus has already come. God is already present in our world if our eyes of faith are wide-open to sense His presence. The symbolism of "watching in the night" is simple and profound. This "night" is the world in the Johannine sense: "He was in the world, and through him the world was made, yet the world did not know who he was" (Jn 1 : 10). The world is humanity not in its earthliness or secularity, but in its hard-heartedness, self-centeredness, self-righteous pride and aggression which blind it to the present LOrd: 328 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 "Men loved darkness rather than the light, because their deeds were wicked" (Jn 3:19). It is in this night where God is present but man is absent from Him, in this shadow of death, that the Christian lives by faith and hope. Another element of the symbolism of the vigil is the silence, when the rush of activities, the vanity of human plans and boasted accomplishments, the flood of sights and sounds advertising expensive but delusive pleasures, conceal from us the reality of the void, the desert of human despair. Existentialism has revived for us this aspect of vigil, the search for authenticity. The Christian enters the desert of silence not to escape, but driven by the Holy Spirit to confront the Evil Spirit as Jesus was (Mk 1:12-3). Night has its peace and cessation from exterior work, but it is also the time of spiritual combat with angels, both evil and good. Tobiah struggled with an evil spirit and came out whole (Tobit 8); and Jacob with a good one, but was crippled (Gen 32:23-33). Night is man's encounter with the hidden levels of his personality and with the subtle cosmic influences that profoundly affect his life, yet which are covered over by his day-time activities. Watching, therefore, is not a mere passive waiting, but an active preparation, struggle, reflection, purgation, integration, simplification of life, requiring the use of the deepest human energies, it is an activity not at the periphery of human life where most of our "doing and making" take place, but in the central abyss of our being. Again, because it is eschatological, a vigil is also a time of judgment. Many of the Psalms speak of this nocturnal examination of conscience: 1 am wearied by sighing: every night I flood my bed with weeping. I drench my couch with my tears; My eyes are dimmed with sorrow. They have aged because of all my foes (Ps 6:7-8). I bless the Lord who counsels me; even in the night my heart exhorts me (16:7). i will remember you upon my couch, and through the night-watches I will meditate on you (63:7). By night my hands are stretched out with flagging; my soul refuses comfort. When l remember God, I moan; when i ponder, my spirit grows faint. You keep my eyes watchful: I am troubled and i cannot speak. I consider the days of old; the years long past I remember. In the night I meditate in my heart; [ ponder, and my spirit broods. "Will the Lord reject forever and nevermore be favorable?" (77:4-8). In a vigil we face ourselves in truth, we accept the punishment of remorse, we are freed from the burden of illusions. Even when our conscience does not reproach us, we come to understand that we are children of Adam, part of the inhuman race of men. Yet as Christians we do not come to judgment so much in fear as in petitiqn to be healed. Purgatory begins for us, a merciful cleansing through hope and longing, because a vigil is penitential, expiatory, redemptive. This is not because God exacts a payment for sin (it is only the unjust steward who thought God a hard master), but because He requires us to share in the work of repairing the damage we have done to others and to ourselves. "God's glory is man fully alive," as St. Irenaeus said, and the restoration of God's glory by penance is nothing other than the healing of man and of the broken relations between men by forgiveness. How does a vigil repair the human world? It does so first by healing the watcher himself, since in this purgatory he learns to forgive others and to lay down .the burden of his own follies. But a vigil is also communal. It is a time when together, at least in spirit, we pray for one another and share one another's burden of guilt and sorrow. Today, some people think prayer is only an excuse not to help others Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 329 through action, but even after we act we may find that our neighbor is still alienated from us by hidden barriers that nothing but prayer can ever pierce. Furthermore, a vigil is communal because it is a witness. Who has not been strengthened to know that another watches in prayer for him with a love that is ever awake? A vigil also always implies the coming dawn, the Resurrection, the rising Sun of Justice. At the heart of the vigil is the well fueled lamp of love, as Jesus indicated in the Parable of the Ten Virgins. He also asked: "When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?" (Lk 18:8). Matthew speaks of "charity" (24-12). The greatest human prdblem is to persevere in faithful love, a love that increases until the kingdom of God kindles like a consuming fire (Lk 12:49). This silently burning light in the night vigil is a fire stronger than the waters of death: "For stern as death is love, relentless as the grave in its devotion; its flames are a blazing fire" (Song of Songs8:6). The Paschal fire is the liturgical symbol of this "living flame of love," which John of the Cross and all the mystics tell us begins to burn in the dark night of the spirit. The Psychology of Later Life Recent developments in developmental ego-psychology, exemplified in the work of Erik Erikson, show us that the phases of human life all have or can have a positive meaning, including old age. It will suffice here to quote a passage from Erikson's Identity: Youth and Crisis (New York: Norton, 1968, pp. 139-40): In the aging person who has taken care of things and people and has adapted himself to the triumphs and disappointments of being, by necessity, the originator of others and the generator of things and ideas - only in him the fruit of the seven stages gradually ripens. I know no better word for it than integrity. Lacking a clear definition, I shall point to a few attributes of this stage of mind. It is the ego's accrued assurance of its proclivity for order and meaning - an emotional integration faithful to the image-bearers of the past and ready to take, and eventually to renounce, leadership in the present. It is the acceptance of one's one and only life cycle and of the people who have become significant to it as something that had to be and that, by necessity; permitted of no substitutions. It thus means a new and different love of one's parents, free of the wish that they should have been different, and an acceptance of the fact that one's life is one's own responsibility. It is a sense of comradeship with men and women of distant times and of different pursuits who have created orders and objects and sayings conveying human dignity and love. A meaningfulold age, then, preceding a possible terminal senility, serves the need for that integrated heritage which gives indispensable perspective to the life cycle. Strength here takes the form of that detached yet active concern with life bounded by death, which we call ~wisdom in its many connotations from ripened "wits" to accumulated knowledge, mature judgment, and inclusive understanding. Not that each man can evolve wisdom for himself. For most, a living tradition provides the essence of it. But the end of the cycle also evokes "ultimate concerns" for what chance man may have to transcend the limitations of his identity and his often tragic or bitterly tragicomic engagement in his one and only life cycle within the sequence of generations. Yet great philosophical and religious systems dealing with ultimate individuation seem to have remained responsibly related to the cultures and civilizations of their times. Seeking trans-cendence by renunciation, they yet remain ethically concerned with the "maintenance of the ¯ world." By the same token, a civilization can be measured by the meaning which it gives to the full cycle of life, for such meaning, or the lack of it, cannot fail to reach into the beginning of the next generation, and thus into the chances of others to meet ultimate questions with some clarity and strength. Erikson points out that this achievement of integrity implies that the person has the courage to retain his own individuality and life style even in the face of changing times: Forheknowsthat an individual life is the coincidence of but one life cycle with but one 330 Review for Religious, Volume 3 I, 1972/3 segment of history, and that for him all human integrity stands and fails with the one style of integrity of which he partakes (p. 140). He also points out that when old age is not used positively, it will end negatively in disgust and despair: Such a despair, is often hidden behind a show of disgust, a misanthropy, or chronic contemptuous displeasure with particular institutions and particular people - a disgust and a displeasure which, where not allied with the vision of a superior life, only signify the individual's contempt of himself (ibid.) From a Christian point of view, therefore, the period of vigil for the Lord's Coming is a precious gift. It is not merely for the aged, but is a feature of every Christian life. All of us, young and old, must have some vigil in our life, some time of reflection, purification, integration. It should begin early, so that old age will only be its culmination and intensification. It is not something separated from active life but is rather a harvest time in which the fruit of experience ~is reaped, assimilated, and made part of our total personality. The Paschal mystery means for us that although this world and its life must pass, yet nothing experienced here in faith will ever be lost, no genuine tie in love will ever be severed. In Christ our life will be summed up, "recapitulated," and transformed in the eternal life of the Trinity. Death is not a closing in of the horizon, but an opening on an ever wider vista - a narrow door that opens on an expanding landscape. The end of the film 2001: A Space Odyssey is one way of saying it. Therefore, the vigil time of life is not just "waiting to die," but is a process of integration in which we "get it all together," discovering in all that we have done and suffered an inner core of meaning. Moreover, we have the obligation of letting others who are in the midst or the beginning of life know there is meaning to what seems to them a mad scramble, a rat-race. The generation gap can never be closed in time, because the wisdom of experience cannot be expressed in the language of inexperience. Yet something can be communicated and must be communicated to the young, and that is hope. Only those seniors who have achieved peace, and who prove it by letting the young live their own lives, are able to give a truly credible sign of hope. The Apostolate of Vigil In view of this psychological and theological meaning of vigil and of later life as a time of vigil, it seems to me that we can frame a better practical understanding of the so-called "retirement problem." (1) In order to obliterate the "retirement" idea, I think we should institute both in name and fact a new apostolate in our communities, the Apostolate of Vigil. It is a genuine apostolate in the wider sense in which traditionally the contemplative life was considered the supreme apostolate, because contemplatives perform a special service of intercessary prayer, reparation, and witness to the transcendent, eschato-logical goals of the Christian life. Lately, active communities are recognizing this need by establishing "houses of prayer." It seems to me that the notion of "vigil" adds to the concept of "prayer" that "thrust into the future" which is so necessary to our time that suffers from "future shock" and "existential despair:" The work of this apostolate consists in several related elements: (a) Reflection. Erikson's emphasis on old age as a time of integration indicates that those in the apostolate of vigil must give themselves seriously to reflection. In a recent movie Kotch, Walter Matthau brilliantly portrays a retired business man who annoys everyone by his constant, apparently disconnected garrulity. Yet as we Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 331 listen to him, we see that he is still a mentally very active man, more alert ~han his rather stupid son and daughter-in-law. He is reflecting over his reading, his life, his successes and failures, and is distilling real wisdom from them. He looks at life with a tolerant yet discerning eye. He contemplates its beauty with delight and tries to express it in language that has its real poetry. But no one listens. On tlie other hand, another movie, 1 Never Sang for My Father, shows the tragedy of another elderly "successful" business man who cannot find the clue to the real meaning of his life, but endlessly moves in the circle o~ the old, bitter thoughts of his rejected youth. Some of our attempts at community dialogue have left the old silent, because we are always talking about the future. Perhaps we should try to have some times of discussion devoted to the needs of the senior members to talk about their past. (b) Prayer. This should not only be intercessory and reparative, as I have already indicated, but also a prayer of praise and thanksgiving. If we need time to "make a thanksgiving" after Holy Communion, don't we also need time to give thanks for the banquet of life? Undoubtedly older religious will want to continue the forms of prayer which have formed the basis of their lives, and, as Erikson says in the quotation above, this is a part of their personal integrity. At the same time, they may welcome the opportunity to deepen these accustomed forms of prayer if they are given opportunities for better theological.and liturgical instruction on the values which they contain. A prayer group made up of older priests, with which I am acquainted, is finding the new "Liturgy of the Hours" a delight. It retains the basic elements of the older "Divine Office" but in a form which makes recitation more meditative and leisurely. (c) Counsel. This is a difficult point which requires a good deal of study and experimentation. In traditional societies the elders were the counselors, yet today it is argued by Margaret Mead and others that the young really have more experience than their seniors. Furthermore, it is said that elderly counselors incline to an authoritarian moralism that is contrary to the non-directive methods of modern counseling. On the other hand it is certainly true that some older people have real assets as counselors. They have time to listen, a broad sympathy based on their own self-knowledge and the experience of human struggle, and a calm, hopeful attitude, sceptical of facile solutions, yet free of pani~ about the crises of life. There is no reason that such persons cannot still learn to improve their technique as.counselors if given some additional training and supervision, Their tendency to moralize or over-direct is more a result of their desire to help, than an incapacity to learn a more psychological approach. I suggest that while not all older people will make good counse.lors, many will if.given some additional training. (d) Suffering. The physical and mental decline of later life tends to become the focus of many wasted days and years, unless this suffering is understood as an element of Christian experience not merely to be endured but to be used creatively. The Cross is a means of integration and fulfillment, as it was for Jesus who said: "It is completed" (Jn 19:.30). To make this suffering a spiritual resource, however, requires spiritual guidance and support. In Gethsemane Jesus was strengthened by an angel (Lk 22:43). The flagging energies of the sick and aged make it difficult for them to exert themselves to prayer. They can relapse into a routine of gradual decline and apathy. Consequently, it is important to help them use the energies they have to grow personally. (e) Small Services. Today religious orders rightly seek to free themselves from wasting their energies on "trivialities." Nevertheless, we need to realize that nothing 332 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 humanizes our lives so much as the small personal services that make us feel loved and that free us from details for more creative work. In any religious community its life and its apostolate can be immensely aided by persons who have the time, the tact, the humility to render some of these small services either within the community circle or as a feature of particular external apostolates. For example, how much a really good receptionist contributes to the work of any organization! Jesus spoke of the "cup of cold water only" given in His name (Mt 10:42) and of the "widow'smite"(Mk 12:41-4) to indicate the dignity and beauty of such small services given in love. They exemplify the first beatitude of poverty of spirit. (f) Hope. The culminating task of the Apostolate of Vigil is the witness of genuine hope, free of "future shock," of gloom, of cynicism, or panic. We need only to think of the example given the Church and the world by the aged John XXlII to realize what a rainbow sign (Gen 9:11-7) this witness of hope can be, giving life and renewal to the whole community. (2) A second step we need to take is to make clear that this Apostolate of Vigil is not exclusively for the old, but an option for all religious at any age, as a permanent or temporary apostolate. There are young and middle-aged religious who will find that their charism is more contemplative than active, or that at least for certain periods of their life they need to '~be" rather than to "do or make." We should ¯ make clear also that age does not automatically qualify a person for this apostolate, or make it his or her single choice. Some senior religious will still find themselves more inclined to a "second career" or to "semi-activity" and should be given this option if it is at all a realistic choice. Finally, we should avoid identifying this apostolate with the problem of residence. It is true that the "villa" may be one center of such an apostolate, but some religious will prefer to carry it on in houses of prayer or active communities. (3) Since this apostolate requires special qualifications other than mere age, it also requires proper training, facilities, and evaluation, exactly as any other apostolate. When a religious is considering choosing it, he or she should discuss the matter with a qualified counselor. The community itself should have definite plans for developing, evaluating~ and revising this apostolate in the formation of which theological, liturgical, psychological, and medical expertise should be used. (4) Finally, proper recognition should be given to those who sincerely engage in this apostolate, so that they know and feel that they truly contribute to the community's life and work. One form of recognition is, of course, a clear financial arrangement by which it is apparent to all that persons in this apostolate are not a "burden" to the community but an asset. This is no mere legal fiction because: (a) This apostolate is a fundamental service to the Church and the world which every religious community has the obligation to provide in some form or other. (b) In actual fact a great part of the free gifts made to any religious community come because the laity look to the assistance of that community's prayer and penance. (c) Religious by their contributed services in their years of "active apostolate" have certainly invested enough in the community to deserve in justice the opportunity to engage in the Apostolate of Vigil if they choose. Some communities solve this problem by paying each local community of which the religious is a member a regular monthly salary as her contribution to its financial upkeep. An Obvious Objection An honest doubt about the idea I have outlined naturally arises. How can we speak of an apostolate for a really senile person who has lost memory, emotional Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 333 control, clarity of mind and purpose? What of those who really are "just waiting to die," living only on a vegetative, custodial level? I can only suggest two points for reflection: (1) Today certain psychologists and some young thinkers of the counter culture are raising sharp questions about the way our work ethic culture tends to define "mental incapacity" or "mental illness." They point out that in many cultures persons we label as "crazy" or "mentally defective" are considered "wise," "prophetic," or "sacred." Jesus spoke of the wisdom of the child, and St. Paul of the wisdom of those whom the world calls fools. St. Luke pictures those two ancient prophets, Simeon and Anna, who alone recognized the Messiah. I certainly would not subscribe to overromantic ideas about the wisdom of the senile, but I do not think that we should identify the value of human personality with the well-being of the brain. The senile person can still be capable of faith, hope, and charity. The process of spiritual purgation and integration which goes on in later life no doubt can reach its completion even when life has reached its ebb tide. (2) In any case our real problem is not the extremely senile patient for whom nothing remains but custodial care. We will give that care gladly and it raises no great puzzles. The real geriatric problems are the much larger number of religious who are still very much alive, perhaps with many years ahead of them. We must help them live these years as a vigil of hope, of effective prayer for the Lord's Coming and for the establishment of His kingdom on our earth. DAVID A. FLEMING, S.M. Formation and the Discovery of Identity [David A. Fleming, S.M., is a faculty member of Marianist Seholastieate; 2700 Cincinnati Avenue; San Antonio, Texas 78284.1 People in formation today tend to feel uncomfortably like bridges. At one end they cling to the solid but sometimes arid rock of a tradition, while at the other they try to find some footing in the shifting sands of new styles of life and experience. Meanwhile they often feel that people are walking all over them from both directions and fighting their battles on top of them, while they themselves look down at the gaping abyss beneath. Luckily, though, many of us like being bridges, despite the discomforts involved, and we feel that the attempt to reach across the gap is more than worth the effort. Our problem, our sense of battles and abysses, is, 1 think, related to a major cultural shift in the understanding and expression of religious values. This shift became an experiential reality for me not too long ago one evening when I attended two parties in religious communities, one - frequented by older members - celebrating the jubilee 9f a much respected member of my province, and the other a community party in a house of formation celebrating the end of a semester. It struck me very forcibly that what I was doing was observing the ways in which two distinct cultures celebrate. To attempt to summarize cultural differences is a risky undertaking. No one is ever satisfied by someone from the outside attempting to sum up basic commit-ments and ways of seeing. And, of course, none of us is ever or should ever be completely "outside"; our summaries are inevitably colored by our own commit-ments and viewpoints. But if we are to talk meaningfully of the situation in which the person involved in formation finds himself today, it is necessary at least to draw up a schematized and admittedly unnuanced outline of the very real contrasts that govern our situation. By culture I mean simply the sum-total of the social values, ways of thinking, means of expressing human relationships, and habits of life shared by a whole group of people (whether tribes in Africa, villages in France, or social groupings in America). At the two parties I recognized two contrasting ways of celebrating, two approaches to festivity. The older party was characterized by a happy convention-ality. People told the old jokes and sang the old songs, reminisced about the way things used to be, shared common memories about the persons and mores of a true but somewhat idealized past. The younger one was colored by creative expression (new skits, new games and ideas) and fantasy (making up new stories and new songs). At both parties, there was much sharing of laughter at things normally taken very seriously. The cultural differences are not restricted, of course, to behavior at parties. The two groups' means of expressing values are notably different. Both are preoccupied with fidelity, but the older group stresses fidelity to an established role, believing Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 335 that a man's true fulfillment and the greatest service he can give lie in being as faithfully and totally and interiorly as possible what he is called to be by the work assigned to him: a good teacher, pastor, cook, or whatever. For the younger group fidelity means, above all, a continuous search to discover and live out what is one's own unique contribution. True fulfillment for this younger group means the discovery of self, which will then lead to a service to society which may or may not correspond to any pre-established role. The older group stresses perseverance in holding to the role that is given, while the younger group stresses honesty with oneself, even though that honesty may not lead very quickly to stability. The older group sees forgetfulness of self and modesty as prime virtues for relating with others, while the younger group stresses openness, the willingness to let oneself be influenced by the thought and action of the other. The older group stresses the necessity for each individual to stick to what he thinks is right, no matter what social pressures he may be subjected to. The younger one feels that communion with the group is a prime value; although he too knows how to withstand social pressures, they prompt him more quickly to re-examine his position, rather than stiffen his resistance to corruption. The older group speaks much about preserving and enriching a tradition that comes out of the past, while the younger one is more oriented towards building a future that may or may not spring very obviously from the past. The experienced seek a carefully limited, realistic, but wholehearted commitment to the goals they have accepted. This approach seems narrow to the young; fascinated by a multiplicity of goods, they tend rather to become overcommitted to too many things, while at the same time being only partially committed to any one of them. The patterns of thought of the two groups are also quite diverse. For the older, truth is to be achieved above all by method, by a disciplined and patterned application of long-tested paradigms; for the young it is to be sought in dialectic, in conversation and interchange, more by group experience than by individual reflection. The older person wants someone to give him answers to his questions; the younger one simply looks for a person to share the process of discovery. The older man has been educated more in a rhetorical tradition that takes a position asa given and then finds all the supporting reasons and arguments; the younger man's education has increasingly stressed a heuristics that is concerned above all with the search for the position that is (existentially) true. For the older man, knowledge tends more to be a possession (the kind of knowledge denoted by the French verb (savoir), something that is dominated, assimilated, and put to profitable use. For the younger man it tends to be a mode of being-related (conna~tre), a personal or quasi-personal communion. The older man looks in his thinking for stability and attempts to stick to the essence of things; the younger man is taken up with the process and is unimpressed by thinking that relies on stable effsences. Discursive thinking and logic tend to be the natural realm of'the older man; symbol thinking, poetry, and art, that of the younger. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, the ways of relating to people and forming friendships differ between the two groups. The way to an older man's heart is to work together with him at a common project perceived as meaningful. The way to a younger man's heart is to listen to him creatively, to share one's own experiences - a process of much dialogue and many hours of deep conversation. Obviously this outline of the two approaches is quite schematized, and most of us - old or young - are somewhere in-between. The purpose of this rather cavalier summary and contrast has been to point up that the two approaches exist (although 336 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 hardly ever in a "pure" state), that they are, in fact, very different - a difference such as has not often been experienced between any two successive generations in human history - and to intimate, by expressing the values of each in a positive way, that both approaches are very open to living the message of the gospel. It is evident that we have two contrasting ways of being faithful, and we who work in the formation of young religious find ourselves very much in a mediatorial, reconciliational role between them. Our role in this cultural situation is, I believe, best conceptualized today as being of service to individuals and communities in the discovery of an identity. Our most obvious task is to aid the indivMual in developing a social identity with the concrete group which he or she is in the process of joining. Because of the cultural crossroads where we find ourselves at this point in history, however, it is unrealistic to reduce the whole of our role to "socialization" within a given congregation. Neither the individual nor the life of the group can remain static, and a true commitment to the group can happen only as the individual finds within the group a true aid to releasing his own creative potential and an increasingly rich field for expressing that potential. A person can develop an identity with a group only on the basis of a strong personal identity, and. strong personal identity can be developed, paradoxic-ally, only in an interplay with a social group. The person working in formation must therefore deal with both poles of identity - the group and the personal. Hence a second, by no means subordinate, part of our role is to be of service to the young person who comes to us in the absorbing work of his own personal search for identity. Formation people, though they tend. to be "generalists" rather than specialists, should, if anything, be specialists in "human development." Although we should only begin working with young people who have already developed a fairly advanced degree of security, self-identity, and clear-headedness, their entry into religious life, at whatever age, is always part of a search for personal identity and identity within society, and we must be prepared to be of service in that extremely personal search. Given the state of constant evolution in which we more and more consciously find ourselves, the first aspect mentioned above, that of identification with or true membership in the order or congregation can no longer be conceived at any level as identification with a status quo. Commitment to religious life today means rather a commitment to God working in a concrete group of people who are pledged to grow and evolve together, to share the consequences of their lives and decisions. Membership means the willingness to keep growing together, to keep sharing consequences, and to let others within the group continue to influence our lives. Joining religious life is less a flight into a specific desert (for deserts can become rather comfortable, as full of fleshpots as any Egyptian oasis) than a going on pilgrimage together, a common movement toward the God who speaks in our lives and calls us forward through history. Religious life, if it is to give its most telling witness to mankind today, must become (as Schillebeeckx has put it) a '~sacrament of dialogue," a living sign, open and visible to men, of the fact that people can live together and share the search for God's concrete will for them in the present, and that this common search can become a fascinating, absorbing, and fulfilling life project. If we view religious life in this dynamic, search-centered way, it becomes increasingly evident that formation must involve a great deal of contact between the candidates and the experienced members. A decision to throw in one's lot with a given order or congregation can be made only on the basis of knowing and Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 337 experiencing the sacrament of dialogue as it really is. Isolated formation houses no longer fill the need, at least not for the totality of the period of basic formation. They were viable in a day when the problem of formation was simply that of taking on an accepted and rather standardized culture. They are good at providing the deeply spiritual motivation that is alone adequate to sustain a person in the challenges which the communal search for God demands. But they do not give an experience of the communal search to which the community as a whole is pledging itself. They rather give another experience - that of a group of peers struggling with commitment together - an experience which will happen anyway, with or without an isolated house of formation, and one that can too easily create a kind of sub-culture, spiritually and emotionally alienated from the group as a whole. They accentuate cultural differences, rather than helping all - young and old -go beyond them to a deeper unity. Identification with the group is complicated today by the problem that many of us are in fact probably better at being of service to personal growth than at helping develop social roles. We tend to have some competence in psychology, none at all in sociology. Yet as each individual grows personally, he becomes more conscious of his unique contributions and personal richness, and he usually discovers the fact that there are no ready-made social roles into which he can easily fit. Because of the rapid change in our society, many of the traditional service roles which religious have filled (teaching, nursing, pastoral work) are themselves in search of an identity, and many religious want to alter these service roles in significant ways. In this crucial area of both personal and community growth, it is above all important that as much of the whole community as possible be involved in developing and living with social roles. Our own personal identity, that of our younger members, and that of the order or congregation as a whole are inextricably entangled. They can either enrich or discourage one another. Rather than a pledge to adopt unquestioningly a given service'role, a commitment today means a pledge to share in mutual growth as we reexamine our traditional service roles. In turning to the question of our service in the area of each one's personal quest for identity, we will find it helpful first to consider the psychological characteristics of the typical young person with whom we have to deal today, his problems and prospects. The most striking strength of the typical candidate we meet today is his sensitivity. Impressionable, responsive to friendship, and anxious to give a service that is personally perceived, he is capable of developing a pers6nality that will be richly responsive to people. The weakness of our candidate is the typical weakness of a sensitive person. He is quite unsure of himself, uncertain of the best way to respond to the heavy pressures of the experience in which he becomes so deeply involved. He does not take all kinds of values, ways of acting and thinking, for granted. He has grown up in a scattered, fragmented world, and he has not yet had the time and the experience to build up a very firm personal stance - a coherent and well-articulated system of values, beliefs, and ways of acting. Because of his own insecurity and his sensitivity to influences, he tends to waver from position to position with what (for us) seems like astonishing rapidity. Growing up in a period when informational input has been reaching and surpassing overload capacity, our candidate has become aware of far more than we knew at his age, but he has simply not had the stabilizing and strengthening influence that we now enjoy nor even the stabilizing influence that we had at the same stage of our own growth. Hence he is very cautious about taking stands. He wants to continue to be "open" to experience, and he does not want to close too many doors too fast. He has come to 338 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 religious life because he is struggling for an identity that is out of the normal; he will not be satisfied with the ready-made roles which society presents so per-suasively to him. Hence he is, in his own peculiar way, cautious about making commitments, and he wavers through many possibilities before finally determining upon one. Our candidate's experience of the past twenty years has taught him that institutions and ideologies fall with great regularity, and that those who build their lives upon them do not survive. What he can perhaps trust is people. He is person-oriented, deeply conscious of his need for friends. He may find trust difficult; but once he has achieved it, he easily becomes dependent, and he is unashamed of finding strength in the support of his friends. He .is less concerned with building an institution, or an ideology than a friendship. He frequently seems to us to have an "affective" problem. His needs are enormous (or so it seems for those of us who have not lived through his cultural experience) in the area of personal friendship and support. He tends to think that the satisfaction of these needs will solve all his problems in life. He can easily be moved, even manipulated (and here we must be careful to respect his person), by motives of personal friendship, less easily by other motivations. In helping our candidate in his search for identity, we are often tempted to solve his problem for him, to shower on him the rich fruits of our own experience and expect him to respond with profound gratitude. Actually though, the nature of his problems (perhaps the nature of all human problems) is such that only he can solve them. Only he can discover and create an identity for himself. Our genuine help can be in sharing the process of discovery with him; in asking sensitive, helpful, but challenging questions; in sharing, but in a non-coercive way, something of our own search and some of its outcomes. In her fascinating little book Culture and Commitment, Margaret Mead has pointed out that the days of the "postfigurative culture" (the one in which the adults are supposed to have answered all questions and to provide a reproducible pattern for the young to imitate with exactitude) are gone. She believes that we are in a "cofigurative culture," one in which everyone, both young and old, determine the solutions to their problems and the answers to their questions by learning from their peers, with the danger of never being able to open up to an experience that is foreign to them. Our future lies, she believes, in a "prefigurative culture," one in which different age-groups and people with quite different experience can work together in the process of discovering new answers. Youth can contribute the special wisdom of its sensitivity, lack of complacency, and pertinent questioning; experience can enrich the dialogue by sharing, in a genuine search, some of the answers and guideposts it has met on its pilgrimage. Even though many of us still like to think we are quite young, we are on the side of "experience" when it comes to formation. The best that we can do for our candidate is engage in an intelligent, open, ongoing dialogue with him. One of the major problem arias that this dialogue will have to confront is that of authority, freedom, and independence. Because of our typical candidate's lack of security and wavering personal identity, he can become very dependent. He can mistakenly think that he has solved his identity problem by patterning his life after a respected elder. Thus he may be, in the judgment of many, a "model religious" for a time, until he discovers that what he was trying to be was not really himself. When the dependence has been considerable, especially when it has begun at an early stage of maturity and resulted in a rather far-reaching superego acceptance of Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 339 norms that are not internalized (an inauthentic identity plastered on from the outside), the young person, if he is healthy, will sooner or later rebel against the artificiality. More or less intensely and for a longer or shorter time, he will rej6ct much of his past experience, what he might call the "system" of religious life, the structures which characterize it, and possibly even some of the people, especially those with whom he has most closely identified. This rejection will be all the stronger if it is the first significa.nt one, if it has not already taken place in regard to home and parents, for it seems to be an almost inevitable part of growing up in the tensions of present-day society. In this area we need, therefore, to be especially careful. Most of us tend, like the generality of human beings, to be over-protective. We enjoy having someone a bit dependent on us. It is, in fact, a beautiful experience of spiritual fatherhood or motherhood, but it is not something which we, as celibate persons, can cling to. At this point a caution against "overcounseling" deserves special attention. Even though the ongoing dialogue is, I am convinced, of the essence of our task, it is sometimes possible to use counseling as a means of manipulating the young person's emotions, of forcing a growth for which he is not yet ready, of protecting him from learning by experience, and of re-enforcing the tendency toward dependence rather than helping him achieve freedom and self-actualization. Recognizing and accepting the psychodynamics of rejection enables us to maintain enough distance to be helpful rather than compound the problem. But this recognition should not lead us to discount the criticisms of the young person. The period of rejection may be a very special occasion for surfacing some real and deep-going problems, and it may point out some genuine weaknesses of our structures, our demands, and our means of formation. Creative listening and discernment of spirits at this critical juncture may be painful, but it may also help us see the )/bung person far more clearly and truly than ever before, and it may in turn reveal to us some of the deepest-penetrating dynamics of our own interaction. In working through this critical state, many young people come to the conviction that religious life is not what they want, that it does not correspond to the authentic identity which they. finally see themselves developing. They may often seem wrong, and we may sometimes realize better than they that their decision is simply part of the rejection process. At best we can keep it from becoming a particularly bitter or scarring part. Nevertheless, some of the most painful decisions we have to face come at this critical period. It is the strains and stresses of this period that especially urge the wisdom of taking candidates at an older, more mature period, since the strength of the rejection is more or less directly in proportion to the levels of inauthenticity and false docility that have to be uncovered and the depth with which the false super-ego identity has penetrated the person. But° we must ask ourselves whether our tendency to defer entrance is in each case a matter of prudence or pusillanimity. The dynamics of identity growth happen in late adolescence in a never-to-be-repeated fashion. The period can be so painful precisely because it is a time of so much growth. Many can develop a true personal i~lentity as religious if we can work sympathetically and understandingly with them through this difficult period. Once the person has passed this crisis, he usually begins to experience the need for building again, for discovery of means to live his religious commitment that correspond to his new found, more authentic self. For example, he will often reject prayer structures at one point only to find himself later, but more genuinely, seeking again to find true means to express his prayerful attachment to God, in 340 Review fog Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 concert with the community. The end result can be very creative - but oniy, of course, if we know how to keep concerns and realities alive without stifling the individual's periods of docility, rejection, and new growth. Our best role, throughout the whole process, I am convinced, is to engage in an ongoing dialogue with the person, to serve as one who can sympathetically share the process, avoiding as much as possible the danger of becoming an object of too great dependence and thus the eventual target of rebellion. Our most useful help will be to aid the young person to handle his dependence, his rebellion, and his new, more authentic independence, to help him find his true place within life and especially within our congregation. We can facilitate the search; we cannot do the discovering for him. The lines between dependence, independence, helpful ques-tioning, and coercive probing are so delicate at this period and so different for each individual that we must face the fact that we will sometimes succeed and sometimes fail. That is part of the joy and suffering of our mission. Another major problem area that we must face in our ongoing dialogue with our candidates is that of psychosexual identity. Here I am of course thinking more than ever in a male context, and those who work with women must make whatever applications they find appropriate. The problem seems to be somewhat different for them. At any rate, our typical male candidate today is not very' sure of his masculinity or even of what masculinity means. Popular society gives him some images of the male hero which he is rather quick intellectually to reject, but which he cannot easily replace: the strong man, excelling in sports, never expressing powerful emotions, capable of handling his drink and his women. The young man today is caught between this image, which it is hard for him to avoid, and his value system, which calls into question most of this image and lays a heavy stress on the goodness of emotion and sensitivity, which makes him very conscious of his own needs and his own very active life in these areas. He is part of the so-called "generation without a father," for his relations with his father have probably been rather occasional and distant. He feels very much the lack of a strong masculine image, and he even doubts at times his own true virility. If this young man is to undertake a life project involving celibacy, he must be able to reassure himself that he can find friends to fill his affective needs. He is horrified by the prospect - one which he is quick to detect, accurately or not, about him - of the middle-aged religious who has no real friends. He can be willing to undertake celibacy only if he is able to experience it as a unique way of loving others. He feels that it is as great a sin to be celibate without love as it is to have sexual relations without love. Very conscious of the eros within himself, he has to grapple with ways of discovering, releasing, and expressing that eros that corres-pond to the identity which he is seeking as a religious. In simpler terms, he wants to learn how to love (as all young inert do), but if he i,s to be a religious, he must learn to love in such a way that his focus is sharing the Spirit - in such a way that the peace and joy and goodness of God is the focus of his interchange with people. He can be attracted by the ideal of a love that is selfless, but not by one that is isolated or theoretical; the selflessness he seeks, if he is capable of celibate love, is the self-emptying of moving together with other human beings beyond the self and towards the God who calls us on. Too often we older religious have biocked the unique experience of celibate love in our hearts. We may have been celibate, but we have perhaps not always been fully loving. Sometimes the experience of wanting to be possessive, protective, jealous, and competitive, to dominate another person instead of freeing him, may Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 341 be an almost inevitable part of learning to love and to find self in relation to God. The aim of the genuine celibate is to share the Spirit and not bind the persqn to ourselves. The usual challenge for the young person is learning to share the SPIRIT, rather than himself; the challenge for many of us is learning to SHARE that Spirit whom we find within ourselves but often tend to stifle. Only by finding his identity as a celibate person in the midst of genuine love and friendship can a young religious man today achieve a secure psychosexual identity. Much of our work consists of helping him through that painful process - not, again, by expecting him to repeat our own experience, but rather by sharing with him in as understanding a way as possible the progress of his search, Many other areas would have to be touched if our aim were to exhaust the questions that confront the young person in formation: discovery of a meaningful relationship with God in prayer and in service, growth in self-awareness and self-confidence, discovery of identity as a worker and a professional person, and so forth. But what has been said suffices to show how the person who works in formation today is in a very delicate situation, one that can be riddled with anxiety - the anxiety of not knowing exactly where we are going, having a sense of the fragility of human life and commitment, recognizing the precarious religious identity of many of our candidates and longing to protect it, but still having to deal creatively with each one's personal quest and realizing that only he, under the guidance of the Spirit, can fashion his own life. If I may conclude, in Pauline fashion, with a catalogue of the virtues to which we are called, I believe they include a buoyant, persevering zest for life; a willingness to live with some anxiety, to let things and people be as they are; and a creative acceptance that affirms all the good in each person and helps him but does not coerce him to channel it towards the growth of mature religious identity. Abov.e all we need to develop a capacity for creative listening - listening to people as they are, without passing judgment, yet giving them our honest insights and letting the call to growth in the kingdom sound through us. All of this demands what Paul characterizes again and again as "patience" and "magnanimity" - hypomone, the gift of persevering zest, of withstanding pr.essures with love and graciousness; and makrothymia, the "great big heart" that is able to let God and men touch it and fill it and call on it no matter what. There is probably no role in religious life today that calls more than ours for deeper prayer, more hope, and more faith in God's loving strength - for more "waiting on the Lord." Perhaps our motto should be taken from Isaiah: "Those who wait for the Lord renew their strength, run and do not grow weary, walk and never tire" (Is 40:30). THOMAS N. McCARTHY Entry Age for Church Vocations [Thomas N. McCarthy is Vice President for Student Affairs at La Salle College; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19141.] Optimum age for entry into Church vocations continues to be a controversial subject. During the 1960's many seminaries and religious institutes, yielding to both internal and external pressures, raised entrance age requirements from early to late adolescence, and during that decade many permitted the demise of high school juniorates. Pressures for further change persist. The thrust of the early 1970's appears to be toward a further delay of entry from ageseventeen or eighteen to twenty, twenty-one, or beyond and with this a growing trend to phase out college level minor seminaries and scholasticates. At the same time that delayed entry for younger candidates is being encouraged, the admission of older candidates, that is, those over thirty years of age, is being actively encouraged. The purpose of this paper is to provide some empirical information on the relationship of applicant age to entry/non-entry rates among those who present themselves as candidates to Church vocations during post high school years and to persistence/attrition rates among those who enter then. The figures reported here are taken from a larger study currently being completed in which 750 candidates to two institutes of teaching brothers, 360 candidates to an institute of religious priests, and 1100 candidates to four institutes of teaching sisters were followed up for periods ranging from three to thirteen years to find out who entered and who did not, who had persisted and who had withdrawn. The relationship of these outcomes to characteristics of the people at the time they became applicants was then analyzed. Some of the applicant characteristics studied were age, education', ability, personality, and interests. The results of this study provide some empirical grounds on which to base policies about when people should be admitted to Church vocations - information which is currently not available in the literature. There are, of course, many relevant factors, of which empirical evidence is one, in a policy decision of this sort. Some Influences on Postponing Entry Among reasons for the demise of early adolescent entry to Church vocations in the United States are support from Rome for the delay, changes in family life, psychological and sociological theory, evidence of very high drop-out rates among high school age entrants, and feelings of interpersonal deficiencies among the current generation of religious leaders. While Rome has declined to officially condemn early entry - indeed it continues to encourage 12-13-year-old entry in some countries - in 1969 the Sacred Congregation for Religious and for Secular Institutes issued a document,Instruction on the Renewal of Religious Formation, recommending the practice of postponing Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 343 entrance for a year or two after high school graduation. The document moved beyond the recommendation that seminaries and religious orders get out of high school age formation - the cause c61~bre of the sixties - to getting out of some college age formation work as well. The recommendation rests on the assumption that older entrants would be more mature and consequently better able to profit from spiritual training. It also rests on the related assumption that, being more mature, older entrants should be more stable vocationally. These assumptions have not been put to an empirical test for religious candidates. It is not known if being older would in fact be related to greater maturity nor is it known if being older would be associated with higher persistence. The purpose of this paper is to provide information for testing the latter assumption among post high school age candi-dates. On theoretical grounds "one would expect that post high school entry, that is, entering when about seventeen or eighteen years old, should be associated with more stable career choices than entering prior to that time. That expectation is based on changes in family life, typical career choice patterns in the United States, Erikson's theory of ego identity, and Super's career development theory. The question of achieving greater vocational stability by delaying entry to even later ages, however, remains an open one. The American family, often mother dominated during the thirties when fathers suffered crushing economic humiliation and during the first half of the forties when men were off to war, has come more under the influence of father in the past twenty-five years, Undoubtedly this is one of the reasons for the decline in vocations which began to occur in the mid to late sixties. There is ample evidence that mother is most frequently the primary inspiration and support of religious vocations. Fichter is quoted by Rooney (1970) as reporting evidence for the greater influence of priests than of mothers in priestly vocations. Later research, especially that of Potvin and Suziedelis (1969), however, clearly supports the primary role of mother. In all likelihood there is no essential disagreement between these findings. I suspect that maternal influence is probably the major predisposing factor in the development of priestly or religious interests and that the influence of a given priest or'religious is generally the precipitating factor associated with a specific choice of institute. Mothers generally are more religious in orientation than fathers are, and with declining maternal influence and a corresponding increase in paternal influence, I think it can be safely assumed that today's teenagers are not as subject to family p.ressures to enter church vocations as was formerly true. It can be assumed further that pressures of this sort are felt most greatly in early teen years, that is, before an independent sense of self is well developed, than in the late teen years when eg.o identity normally is firmer. Thus a strong maternal influence on Church vocation choices most likely would be associated with both early entry and high rates of entry, while waning maternal influence would be associated with later and declining entry rates. Furthermore, if the dynamics of husband-wife, parent-child relation-ships have indeed changed with father re-assuming greater ascendancy since the"mid " 1940's, one could also infer support for a psychoanalytical interpretation that children in their early teens today should feel less heavy maternal emotional demands than was true of youngsters in the past. Consequently today's youth should feel less need to escape the home and these demands. Also instrumental in supporting delay of entry until after high school is the general tendency in America today to put off professional career choices until 344 Review for Religious~ Volume 31, 1972/3 college. Typical career development patterns now c~ll for a tentative choice of broad field and entrance into training for it around age eighteen. This generally is foll6wed by a period of narrowing course and career selection from around age 20 which eventually culminates for those who successfully complete career training in actual job entry around age 22-25. The near universality of this pattern for professional careers appears to be having a persuasive influence on Church pers.onnel practices. Both advocates and adversaries of delayed entry accept the premise that there must be substantial differences between preparation for Church vocations and preparation for secular careers. Education for the Church requires both an academic and a personal formation side, whereas preparation for secular careers is almost always restricted to the former. Paradoxically, agreement about this has fed the controversy about optimum entry age, both sides using it to make their case. Advocates of early entry have argued that the seed of a vocation is typically implanted early, will not be properly cultivated and is unlikely to grow outside a religious house of formation, and that vocations will be reduced unless early admission is permitted. Adversaries have argued that a person in his early teens does not know his own mind and that he needs the broader experiences - especially heterosocial ones - of ordina~'y family and social life before he is mature enough to profit from the spiritual formation side of Church vocation preparation. The immense popularity of Erikson's theory of adolescent identity crisis has had a remarkable effect on the attitudes of Church authorities toward proper entry age. Erikson's views about the development of a sense of self-identity, more than the views of any other theoretician, have provided the rationalization for delaying entry until an individual has achieved sufficient psychological independence from the primary adults in his life to have an ego identity of his own. That independence is thought to occur generally around age eighteen rather than at the beginning of the teens when so many youngsters formerly were funneled into religious or clerical life. Two recent religious writers, Mitchell (1970) and Gerlach (1971), have argued the viewpoint that the nature of a Church vocation requires entrants to have resolved not only the teenage identity crisis but also to have achieved a successful resolution of the problem of how to be intimate with another, the next level in Erikson's developmental theory. This viewpoint is offered as a basis for a further delay of entry age to twenty or so. Other than the theory behind the position, I find little else to support it. To my knowledge there is no published empirical information comparing the eventual social adjustment and persistence of entrants at one age to entrants at another age. Nor am 1 aware of any evidence that learning how to be intimate outside of religious life generalizes to the special circumstances within the life. On the contrary, this strikes me like a girl telling an interested boy to go learn how to make love and then come back when he knows how. He'll probably go elsewhere and learn all right, but it is not likely that he'll return to her. Super's career development theory, thanks to the promulgation of it among Church leaders by people like Kinnane (1970), also has influenced the move toward post high school entry. Super has proposed that the specification of a career choice, that is, electing a given career and taking concrete steps to prepare for it, normally occurs between ages eighteen and twenty-one and follows a period of roughly four years (ages 14-18) during which a career preference is crystalized out of an individual's growing awareness of his own interests, values, abilities, and opportuni-ties. Following Super's reasoning, entering the preparatory stage of a career before Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 345 age eighteen would have, for most people, the effect of foreclosing other options before the individual knows himself and the world of careers well enough to make a sound choice. For Super the choice of career involves a way of implementing one's concept of oneself, and a person is not ready to do that until the self-concept is relatively clear. Drop-out rates have never been well publicized even in professional literature and as a result are hard to document, especially over long periods of time. An occasional master's dissertation (see Verstynen, 1948) and studies dealing with some other aspect of seminary life sometimes report this information. People involved in Church personnel administration also generate a reservoir of information, often more anecdotal than systematic, about attrition rates. By the middle 1960's these varied sources, admittedly not rigorously scientific, had provided some foundation for the belief that drop-out rates are inversely related to age at entry. Patterson (1942), for example, reported a drop-out rate of over 80% for those who entered one seminary after grade eight declining to just over 75% for those who entered after having had some high school. So far as I know, to date there has been no systematic attempt to establish relationships between age of candidature and entry/nonentry, persistence/attrition rates across different types of church voca-tions. Is age of candidacy related to entry/nonentry or persistence/attrition in the same way for brothers, priests, and sisters? Dissatisfaction with interpersonal aspects of their lives is evident among a large number of the current generation of priests and professed religious. This is one of the most common complaints to come out of several studies over the past five years (see Schneider and Hall, 1970; Louis, Bowles, and Grace, 1967). Many in Church vocations feel that interpersonal deficiencies could have been corrected had candidates been required to remain outside the walls for a longer period of time. While there is no direct evidence that this in fact would happen, the desire to have better interpersonal relationships has been strong enough to persuade many to this viewpoint. All of these factors appear to have contributed to the demise of entry before high school graduation and to support of the current trend to delay entry for another year or two after that. It is a curious comment on the times that during all the controversy over this matter of optimum age for entry very little research was carried out to assess the actual psychological impact of formation on individuals at different ages. Keefe's study (1965) is the only one I know of which compared individuals of the same age in seminary and non-seminary high schools to see if there was a differential effect on maturity associated with one type of school as opposed to the other. He concluded that neither group was more mature than the other. Other doctoral dissertations done at Fordham (Mastej, Sandra, Vaughan) have shown increasing signs of maladjustment during college years of formation, but the cross-section methodology used in those studies leaves open the question of whether the subjects themselves actually changed or whether the group average changed as a result of better adjusted people having dropped out. 1 think the weight of the evidence on theoretical grounds, social changes, and on what empirical information exists clearly justifies delay of entry until the comple-tion of high school. As to justifying delay beyond this, it seems to me that empirical evidence is currently lacking and that the implications of theoretical positions such as Erikson's developmental views are open to conjecture. At the same time, however, there does appear to be a growing trend among college 346 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 students to put off career decisions longer than was true in the recent past. Some Empirical Evidence In 1970 I did a follow-up study of approximately 2200 candidates I had examined for seven Church institutes during the years 1957-1967. Information about age at the time they applied for entry was available for 742 candidates to two provinces of the same institute of teaching brothers, 354 candidates to an order of religious priests, and 1089 candidates to four institutes of teaching sisters. Their age when they were examined for admission was then studied in relationship to their having entered or not and to their having persisted or not for those who entered. The examinations were conducted on the average 3-9 months before actual entry. On the average when they sought entry the candidates to the brothers were 17 years, 11 months, to the priesthood 19 years, 2 months, and to the sisters 18 years, 5 months (see Table 1). The half-year difference between candidates to the brothers and sisters, the eight month difference between candidates to the sisters and the priesthood, and the fourteen month difference between candidates to the brothers and priesthood were all statistically significant and could not be accounted for by chance. Thus each type of institute attracted candidates of somewhat different ages. Table 1. Mean ages in months of candidates, nonentrants, entrants, persisters, and withdrawers for seven institutes of brothers, priests, and sisters.* Brothers Standard (2 Provinces) N Mean Deviation t p Candidates 742 215.3 19.7 Non-Entrants 389 216.8 24.9 Entrants 353 212.9 15.9 2.56 .05 Persisters 151 214.0 18.1 With'drawers 202 212.2 14.0 1.01 ns. Priests Standard (1 Institute) N Mean Deviation t p Candidates 354 229.6 34.4 Non-Entrants 60 239.8 45.2 Entrants 294 227.5 31.3 2.00 .05 Persisters 98 227.8 29.1 Withdrawers 196 227.3 32.3 ,13 ns. Sisters Standard (4 Institutes) N Mean Deviation t p Candidates " 1089 221.2 24.4 Non-Entrants 222 228.8 32.5 Entrants 867 220.5 21.5 3.60 .01 Persisters 469 219.7 18.2 Withdrawers 398 221.4 24.8 1.13 ns. *Age refers to how old the person was when he was examined as a part of the application process. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 347 Older candidates to all three types of institutes were less likely to enter than were younger candidates. As shown in Table 1 the differences between the average ages of entrants and nonentrants were statistically significant beyond chance expectancy in all three cases. For the brothers nonentrants were on the average four months older than entrants, for the seminary a full year older, and for the sisters eight months older. Clearly promise, at least from the viewpoint of entrance, was not associated with being older for these seven institutes during the eleven years from 1957 through 1967. It would not be correct to conclude from this that superiors had a tendency to deny admission to older candidates on the basis of age alone. The more usual situation was that being older tended to be associated with some other factors considered signs of poor promise: indecisiveness, family problems, psycho-sexual problems, and questionable motivation being common. Only eleven of the 2185 candidates were over thirty years old. The brothers had two such candidates and neither entered; the priests had five, of whom three entered; the sisters had four, of whom two entered. All of the other candidates were in their late teens or twenties. At the lower end of the continuum 78 of the brothers' candidates were sixteen in comparison to 6 seminary candidates and 27 candidates to the convents in that age group. The brothers had 2 candidates who were fifteen and the seminary 1. The sisters had none that young. All of these younger candidates have been lumped in the 17 and under category in Table 2. Table 2. Proportions of entrants, non-entrants, persisters, and withdrawers by age of candidates to seven institutes of brothers, priests, and sisters. Total Candi- Non- Institute Age dates Entrants Entrants Persisters Withdtawers N N % N % N %* %** N %* P 5 2 40 3 60 1 33 20 2 67 40 S Base Ratet (17%) (83%) (34%) (28%) (66%) (54%) S 4 R S Base Rater * Proportion of entrants (All figures ~e for age at 115 19 506 81 274 54 44 232 46 37 60 19 256 81 142 55 44 114 45 36 37 28 93 72 49 53 37 44 47 33 8 44 10 56 4 40 22 6 60 33 2 50 2 50 0 0 0 2 100 50 (20%) (80%) (54%) (43%). (46%) (36%) ** Proportion of candidates ~- Proportions without regard to age time the person was examined during the application process). B 2 2 100 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 E R Base Rate~ (52%) (48%) (42%) (20%) (58%) (27%) S 348 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 The largest single age group applying to all three types of institutes were seventeen years old: 94% of the brother candidates, 46% of the seminary candidates, and 55% of the sister candidates. This was followed by those in the eighteen and nineteen-year-old bracket who comprised 19%, 30%, and 29% of the candidates to the brothers, seminary, and sisters respectively. Five percent of the candidates to the brothers were between twenty and twenty-four, 19% of those applying to the seminary, and 12% to the convents. Very few candidates to any of the institutes were between twenty-five and twenty-nine (see Table 2 for all of these figures). The base rate figures in Table 2 indicate the overall proportions of nonentrants, entrants, persisters, and withdrawers without regard to age. If being a given age was a "good sign" for entry, the proportion of those entering from that age group should be above that of the base rate. For the brothers and priests the 17-year-olds had the best entry rates and for the sisters those in the 17-19 age brackets had the best entry rates. For the brothers all ages over 17 had entry rates lower than the base rate; for the priests those in the 20-24 and over 30 age groups had lower entry o rates; and for the sisters all those 20 and over had lower entry rates. Do these same patterns hold with regard to persistence and attrition for the seven institutes? The data are not nearly so clear on this point. The figures in Table 1 show no appreciable age differences between those remaining in and those who left. It is important to bear in mind that all figures are for the ages of persisters and withdrawers at the time they applied for entry, not at the time of the follow-up. Two base rate figures are given for persisters and withdrawers in Table 2. The first refers to the proportion of those who entered who eventually remained or left; the second refers to the proportion of total candidates wt~o remained or left. Brothers For the brothers 42% of the 353 entrants were still in when the follow-up was done. The best persistence record was for those few entrants (1 I) who were between 20-24 when they applied for entry. On the other hand, the best persistence record for all candidates was for those who were either 17 years old or between 25-29 when they sought entry. Only two persisters were in the latter age group, however, versus 122 in the l~-year-old group. Clearly, delaying entry for candidates to these institutes w~uld have resulted in a very heavy loss of people who are still persisting. This, of course, assumes that the interest of the 17-year-olds would not have been sustained while waiting for a later entry - an outcome which I think is highly likely, though not amenable to proof from these data, even with lots of tender loving care in extramural aspirancies. The normal training period for these brothers extends for six years. In general, though this was not true for everyone at the time of the follow-up in 1970, it can be assumed that those still persisting from among candidates who had applied during the years from 1957 through 1962 were finally professed. These men would have been in their respective institutes anywhere from eight to thirteen years. In absolute numbers far and away the greatest number of final professed came from among candidates who had applied at age 17. There were 63 professed from that age bracket versus 5 from those who had applied at age 16, 13 from the 18-19- year-old applicants, and 3 from the 20-24-year-olds. On the basis of the proportions of candidates within each age group who remained to be finally professed, again the highest proportion was found among the 17-year-olds, though the differences from one age group to another were Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 349 relatively small: 17% of the 16-yea.r-old candidates eventually were finally pro-fessed, 23% of the 17-year-olds, 15% of the 18-19-year-olds, and 20%of the 20-24- year-olds. The entrants in each age group who had taken final vows were distributed as follows: 45% of the 16-year-olds, 48% of the 17-year-olds, 37% of the 18-19-year-olds, and 60% of the 20-24-year-olds. With only 3 people in the latter category, one could hardly justify delaying entrance to that age unless one could also demonstrate their superiority over the 81 professed who had entered at the younger age. The differences between the persistence rates of candidates and the persistence rates of entrants suggest that pre-ad.mission screening improves persistence rates rather substantially at every age. Priests In the case of the priests the overall persistence rate for the 294 entrants was 34% in comparison to 28% for the 354 candidates. The best persistence record for entrants was achieved by those who had applied when they were between 20-24 followed by the 17-year-old applicants. The best persistence record for candidates was achieved by 17-year-olds followed by those 20-24. There were fairly sizeable numbers of persisters in all the age brackets from 17 through 24 but substantially greater numbers who withdrew. Thus it would be very difficult to generalize about an optimum age for entering this seminary aside from being under age 25. At the time of the follow-up 19 of 118 candidates who had applied during the years 1961 and 1962 had been in the seminary eight or nine years. On the average they had been 19 years, 9 months when they sought entry. Of the 19 a total of 10 were ordained. The youngest candidate among the ordained had been 18 when he applied. The majority (6 of the 10) had been between 20-24; 1 was 27; 2 were 19. There is a strong suggestion from these few figures that for this seminary being in one's early twenties was a better sign of promise for eventual ordination than being younger. It needs to be pointed out, however, that older candidates had less education to complete when they entered and were thus more likely to have been ordained within the eight-to nine-year span covered by this study than were younger entrants. When the follow-up was done 9 non-ordained of the 19 persisters over this time span had been 18 or younger on becoming candidates: 1 was 16; 5 were 17; and 3 were 18. Accordingly, one might still be reluctant to deny admission to 17-year-olds. Looked at another way and assuming the 6 remaining 16 and 17-year-old persisters all accept ordination, that would result in an expected ordination rate of 13% for the 46 candidates in that age bracket during the years 1961-62 versus an actual ordination rate of 26% for the 23 candidates who were between 20-24. The comparable ordination rates for entrants in these age brackets would be 15% versus 37%, respectively. For candidates 18-19 years old, 3 already were ordained and assuming ordination of the remaining 3, their ordination rate against the total candidates in that age bracket would be. 14% versus 18% for entrants in that age group. Though the numbers involved are very small to draw firm generalizations, the ordination rates, both actual and assumed, give rather clear support to the view that candidates in their early twenties show greater promise than do those in their late teens. Sisters Fifty-four percent of the 867 who entered the four convents were still in as of 1970 in comparison to 43% of the total 1089 candidates. The persistence rates of 350 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 all entrants under 25 years old differed very little from one another: 54% of the 17-year-old entrants were still in, 55%of the 18-19-year-olds, and 53%of the 20~24- year-olds. Entrants over age 25, a very small number (10), were less likely to persist (40%) than the others. Using the total pool of candidates as a reference point the best persistence risks came from those who were between 17 and 19 (44%) when they applied. The poorest risks were those over 30 (0%), followed by those between 25 and 29 (22%), and 20-24 (37%). A separate analysis was done of the 209 candidates who had applied to three of the convents sometime between 1958 and 1962 and who were still in as of 1970. The fourth convent did not begin psychological evaluations until 1963 and was excluded for that reason. Thus for the other three institutes those persisting had been in their respective convent for eight to twelve years and normally would have been finally professed by that time. For these people essentially the same persistence rates were found for all ages between 17 and 24. Of the 17-year-old entrants 53% were professed compared to 54% of the 18-19-year-olds, and 56% of the 20-24-year-olds. Using candidates as the base for comparisons, 47% of the 17-year-olds were professed, 47% of the 18-19-year-olds, and 42% of the 20-24-year olds. In absolute numbers far and away the greatest number of professed (I 13) applied when they were 17 followed by 67 18-19-year-olds, 23 20-24-year~olds, 3 25-29-year-olds, and 3 16-year-olds. No candidate over thirty remained in.Sixteen-year- old candidates were a rarity. There were only four and all applied to one convent. Three of the four were eventually professed. What can one make of the figures for the convents? With about one-half of the 17- year-old candidates having remained in the convent at least eight to twelve years, it would be hard to support the contentii3n that they are a less stable group than older candidates and thus should be delayed from entering for another year, two years, or more. Profession rates for 18-19-year-old entrants are no better than theirs and after that age the persistence rates drop off. Unless one could assume holding the interest of 17-19-year-olds during a period of delay, a large drop in absolute numbers of those who eventually take final vows can be predicted and probably without much change in overall persistence rates given the same amount of screening done in the past. Summary Observations An increase in the number of nonentrants among candidates to Church vocations is one likely consequence of postponing entry beyond high school graduation. Age in itself would not be the reason for this increase. However, age-related factors such as career indecisiveness, social and sexual adjustment, and similar factors probably would be. A second consequence very likely would be a sharp decline in the number of candidates making application. This already is evident for institutes which have adopted a policy of postponed entrance for a year or more after high school graduation. The brothers, in particular, would be affected by this. The two brothers institutes in this study do not conduct colleges whereas the institute of priests and the four institutes of sisters each conduct at least one college and in some cases :two or more. 1 do not know if this was a contributing factor to brothers attracting the youngest candidates of all three types of institutes and having had relatively small numbers of candidates in their early twenties, but 1 suspect that was the case. In addition, for the brothers almost three times the proportion of candidates in their early twenties failed to enter than was true for the seminary and convents. I take Review for Refigious, Volume 31, 1972/3 351 this to mean that applicant proximity to the age group with which the Church institute works may be a significant factor both in becoming a candidate and in entering. Persistence was related to ag~ differently for the three types of institutes. Considering only those who had remained in for periods ranging from eight to thirteen years, for the brothers 17-year-old entrants had the best persistence records and in absolute numbers constituted by far the largest group of persisters compared to other ages; for entrants to the priesthood being in the early twenties was associated with a persistence rate twice that for 17-year-olds and approximately twice that for 18-19-year-olds as well; for the sisters essentially the same persistence rates were found for all ages between 17 and 24. The absolute number of persisters was much higher for 17-year-olds, however, than for any other age group. These figures indicate that it is unwise to generalize about optimum' age for entry without taking into consideration the type of institute. Given the same set of circumstances for the future that prevailed in these institutes through 1970 - an admittedly questionable assumption - one would have to predict that postponing entry to age 20 for the brothers could shortly put those institutes out of business. For the seminary reported on here to do that could result in a reduction of up to 50% of those who remain in to be eventually ordained, though I would estimate~ the more likely reduction would be on the order of 20-25%. For the convents to postpone entry to age 20 one would predict a very sharp drop in total number of entrants but without appreciably improving persistence rates of those eventually admitted. The net effect would be a substantial drop in new professed. All of this obviously assumes a simpler relationship between age and persistence than fits the facts, but the estimates have some empirical foundation. I think the more important question than simple persistence is whether one can identify among post high school candidates those who are mature enough to hold promise for an effective ministry. On the side of negative characteristics, there is firm evidence that candidates with poor motivation and poor prognosis due to family problems can be identified with a high degree of success (Weisgerber, 1969). The very sharp differences for the brothers in persistence rates for entrants from the different age groups in comparison to candidates from the different age groups probably reflects the results of effective screening. The brothers admitted only about 50% of their candidates. Similar differences in persistence rates were not found between entrants and candidates to the seminary which had not screened nearly so rigorously. Some institutes prefer to admit candidates without putting strong emphasis on the psychological evaluation. This typically results in higher entry rates and lower persistence rates, an outcome which indirectly suggests that signs of promise among candidates can be identified with some accuracy by pre-admission evaluation. So, too, does the much higher long-term persistence rate for the brothers than for the seminary, the former institutes having been more selective than the latter. The research project of which this report is a part is also concerned with specifying psychological attributes which distinguish successful 17-year-old candi-dates from nonsuccessful ones, success defined in terms of interpersonal relation-ships and job competence after final profession. Preliminary results suggest this can be done to some extent for a given institute but that the findings are not generalizable even between two similar institutes, for example, between two institutes of brothers engaged in the same work. This, too, would argue against 352 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 making specific entry age recommendations for all Church vocations and would argue instead for institutes establishing entry age policies based on studies of their own candidates. REFERENCES Gerlach, J. Form. ation: Some Reflections and Convictions. Review for Religious, Vol. 30, No. 5, September, 1971. Keefe, J. Maturity io the High School Seminary: An Empirical Approach. The Catholic Psychological Record, 1969, 6, 1, ,I 5-29. Kinnane, J. F., Career Development for Priests and Religious. Washington, D.C.: C.A.R.A. 1970. Lewis, A., Bowles, W. and Grace, R. Attitude Study Among Priests and Religious in New Orleans Archdiocese. Project ~560, May, 1967 Unpublished paper. Mitchell, K. R. Priestly Celibacy from a Psychological Perspective. The Journal of Pastoral Care, Vol. 24, No. 4, December, 1970. Patterson, H. A Study of Student Mortality at St. Anthony's Seminary and Suggestions for Improving the Situation. Master's Dissertation, Catholic University of America, | 942. Potvin, R. H. and Suziedelis, A. Seminarians of the Sixties. Washington! C.A.R.A. 1969. Rooney, J. J. Psychological Research on the American Priesthood: A Review of the~ Literature in E. C. Kennedy and V. J. Hecker, The Loyola Psychological Study of the Ministry and Life of the American Priests (Washington: National Conference of Catholic Bishops, 1971). Sacred Congregation of Religious and for Secular Institutes. Instruction on the Renewal of Religious Formation. Washington, D.C.: United States Catholic Conference, 1969. Schneider, B. and Hall, D. T. The Role of Assignment Characteristics in the Career Experiences of Diocesan Priests. in W. E. Bartlett (ed.) Evolving Religious Careers, Washington, D.C.: C.A.R.A. 1970. Verstynen, R. J. A Study of Perseverance in Relation to Vocations to the Priesthood. Master's Dissertation, Catholic University of America, 1948. Weisgerber, C. A. Psychological Assessment of Candidates for a Religious Order. Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1969. JOHN R. SHEETS, S.J. Soundings on the Present State of Religious Life [John R. Sheets, S.J., is professor of theology at Marquette University; 1131 West Wisconsin Avenue; Milwaukee, Wisconsir~ 53233.] Anyone who attempts to assess the present state of religious life in America today is in a position similar to that of a weatherman who might try to give a neat presentation of the weather across the country. It defies any neat categories. In one part it is calm, in another stormy. In one, it is warm; in another, below zero. High in the atmosphere there are currents of air which no one picks up without the proper instruments, while close to the earth there are other currents which everyone can feel. Changing the comparison, we would like to present some "soundings" concerning the present condition of religious life in America. "Soundings" is a safe word for what we would like to do. Taking soundings of the ocean floor, for example, is always a combination of accurate analysis plus some educated guesswork. At the same time, the nature of sounding what lies beneath the surface respects the fact that the picture can change very suddenly because of the constant movement of the currents. There are two assumptions underlying all that is said below. They are quite obvious, but it is necessary to mention them in order to put the rest of" the remarks in their proper context. The first assumption is this: There are certain fundamental components involved in all change which must interact harmoniously if there is to be growth and development. These components of change are mainly concerned with permanence and variability, sameness and newness, unity and diversity, continuity and discon-tinuity, conservation and innovation. When these components are mutally suppor-tive, there is progressive growth. When they fail to mesh and are at odds, the result is frustration, stagnation, fragmentation, and disintegration. The second assumption concerns the vital synthesis of these components. They are held together only through vision and values which are shared. The components are only mutually supportive if they are held together from above through faith enriched by love. Where faith is lost, these components lose their synthesizing center. They tend to break off and live a life of their own when the center is gone. On the other hand, where they are rooted in a common faith, then, while there may be stress and strain, there will inevitably be growth. We would like to make our soundings of religious life on the basis of these two assumptions. It seems that our soundings pick up an antagonism between these components of change as well as approaches to synthesis. We would like to hazard the opinion that this antagonism comes largely from an overreaction to what we 354 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 can vaguely call a "classical" view of religious life. This is the first point we would like to make. In the second place, we would like to comment on the fact that in many instances the synthesis is lost because the vision and values that were shared are no longer shared. In the third place, we want to call attention to the phenomenon of fresh synthesis that is taking place in many religious personally as well as in their congregations. Overreaction to the "Classical" Mentality We said above that growth depends on the harmonious interaction of the various components of change and that frustration occurs where these begin to be antagonistic to each other instead of supportive. One of the main sources of this antagonism today comes from an overreaction to the past. Today one often hears our own age of rapid change contrasted with a "classical" world view. This term is a hard one to nail down adequately. Among other things it connotes a mentality which is static, uniform, traditional, symmetrical. No period and no person in history ever verified this description perfectly. It is for the most part a mental construct. Nevertheless, in comparison with our present age, it does serve as a useful category. Our own age takes its orientation not only from the various forces that are at work, but also from the fact that these forces are fed by undertows of reaction toward the past. This is not an unusual phenomenon. Other periods of history have been marked largely by the way in which they reacted .to the past. The period of Romanticism, for example,took its shape and force largely as a reaction to the Enlightenment. The same process takes place in individuals as well as in groups. A person who has been brought up in a home that is overrestrictive can turn his initial taste of freedom into a spree of irresponsibility. It seems that many problems in religious life today come not simply from a legitimate reaction but from an overreaction to what can be vaguely called a "classical" form of religious life. Reaction in itself is not necessarily harmful. It can in fact provide impetus to move a person or a group forward. When it becomes an overreaction, however, it moves a person or a group into a position of imbalance. Overreaction can act like a blind force pushing a person or a group into a position beyond the point where they would normally go if they had full control of the situation. Where there is overreaction, reason does not lead. It is only called upon to legitimate the position a person has been forced into by overreaction. Similarly, overreaction is not the product of freedom and choice but of a passion generated by antagonism against a previous state of things. Reaction, as was said, can be an incentive to move beyond the point where one finds himself. Reaction can be the realm of the Spirit. Overreaction, on the other hand, is the realm of the demonic. Reaction can be the activity of the prophet. Overreaction is characteristic of the fanatic. Reaction is power under control. Overreaction is power without control. We can ascribe three main characteristics to the "classical" mentality. They are (1) anonymity, (2) structure, (3) subordination of the individual to the community. In lining up these characteristics we repeat the caution that they are largely a mental construct we put on the past. While they are verified, they are never found in an unmixed form. At the same time we want to avoid the idea that we are condemning the "classical" mentality. It is like pointing out a particular style of architecture that characterized a certain period in history. It is no reflection on the Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 355 genuinity of religious dedication in the past. Our contemporary "architecture" will become "classical" to the generations that follow us. The Reaction against Anonymity One of the reactions to what we called the classical mentality is the reaction against "being a nobody." It is a reaction against a certain kind of anonymity that was part of religious life. Perhaps anonymity is not the right word. In any case, the religious was not to call attention to himself as an individual. He was in a sense to " be a symbolic presence, where what he stood for shone through the individual characteristics. For this reason, particularly with religious women, the religious garb itself served an important function, not only in its positive value as sign, but also in what could be called a negative sense. Individual characteristics were "blacked out," very often to the point where only the face was visible. Whenever religious women today reminisce about the kind of clothes they used to wear, they usually do so with a mixture of humor, wonder, and relief, somewhat in the same way that children react to the old pictures in an album. However, when one realizes the thinking behind that manner of dress, it is not all that ridiculous. The dress was in some way to reduce what was purely individual in order to manifest the personal. Individual characteristics were suppressed to make room for what was beyond the individual. We are not calling for a return to those particular modes of dress. It is important, however, to understand the rationale behind them. The same thinking was behind the custom of changing one's name. When a religious gave up his family name and assumed a new name, this change was symbolic of a new mode of existence. This anonymity was a kind of a general condition in which religious, especially religious women, worked and lived. It monitored one's whole life. One's home, background, family, were kept hidden like a precious secret. We can all remember (except the ~,ery youngest of us) when one of the greatest childhood thrills was to discover the color of sister's hair, or to find out her real name. The cloister itself was a graphic symbol of this hiddenness. Today there is a strong reaction against any factor which is associated with anonymity. As HammarskjiSld observes in his diary, "Our final wish is to have scribbled off the wall our 'Kilroy was here.' " We all want to be recognized, not to be a nobody, but to be a somebody, and to have what we do acknowledged by others as our own work. Though we boast about our being able to go it alone, wo are very dependent on the recognition given us by others. No one can deny the value in such a reaction where it makes someone a more genuine person. Often, however, it results in making someone more of an individual, but less of a person. The difference between the individual and the personal is the difference in the color of one's eyes and the light in his eyes, or the shape of one's body and the genuineness of one's love. What is individual in us is (to use St. Paul's expression) the earthenware vessel in which we carry the personal. Where the individual is cultivated at the expense of the personal, we find something like those tiny Japanese trees which are very beautiful but unfruitful. While each of us has the temptation to sacrifice the person on the altar of the individual in us, the overreaction to the anonymity of the past has in many cases brought about a cult of individualism rather than a deepening of the personal. There is a difference between the liberation of the person and the liberation of what is individual in us. Often what passes for liberation of the personal.:in us is simply a disguised form of individualism. 356 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 Another aspect of this reaction against the anonymity of the past is evident in the strong movement to have a say in what is happening. In the past, religious, especially religious women, were to be seen, not heard. They never had a share in the decision-making in the parish, diocese, or Church. They were always obediently "there." Decisions from Rome, the Sacred Congregation of Religious, or the chancery office were accepted with unquestioning obedience, at least as far as execution was concerned. There was a certain mystique to the whole idea of authority in the Church. An interesting reaction has taken place, which in many instances has assumed the proportions of an overreaction. If in the past there was a mystique about authority, today there is a de-mystification of authority to the point where the very ¯ foundations of ecclesial authority are denied. Ecclesiastical authority, especially if it is of the unAmerican type, is relegated to something like baroque architecture, which is a relic of the past. In a very brief span of ten years, many religious, as individuals and as groups, have come of age, and issued their declaration of independence, often in the words dictated to them by some other authority. Chesterton's remark, though written decades ago, is apropos. He said: "Thousands of women rose up and said, 'We shall not be dictated to!' Then they sat down to be stenographers." It is unfortunate that an overreaction to a "classical" mode of exercising authority has led many to reject or to question the authority of the Church itself in matters touching their religious life. When this happens, another authority comes in to take the place of the one rejected. Nature abhors a vacuum. An authority vacuum is soon filled with another authority. Often the situation is like that described in the gospel, where seven devils enter who are worst than the first. In something of a similar vein, religious are feeling their "political oats." There is also a reaction to anonymity here. They are beginning to realize that they can and should have a voice in the affairs of the Church and society. Much of this is on the positive side of the ledger. There is a danger, however, that some may lose sight of the fact that a religious group does not exist primarily to exercise political pressures through the use of political tactics. Their political influence in fact is mainly exercised through witness to the gospel values in a manner which ve.ry often is incompatible with the strategies involved in politics. The Reaction against Structure We have commented on the imbalance that comes from an overreaction against a kind of "classical" arlonymity which we associate with religious life of the past. This same kind of a phenonmenon occurs in reaction to "structure." It is hard to pin down exactly what is contained in the word "structure?' Many use it in different ways. In any case, it seems to be loaded with many of the connotations we described as being part of the "classical" mentality. It conjures up spectres of impersonalism, inflexibility, regulation, and stereotype. In the past, at least in the case of many religious, practically every detail of their lives was regulated, the way they dressed, the order of the day, their manner of dealing with externs, their correspondence, and so forth. It is understandable that there should be a reaction to this type of regulation. But, as in the case with the reaction against anonymity, which has become the cult of the individual, here also the overreaction against structure has often turned into adolescent immaturity. There is almost an allergy to any type of regulation at all. Even language itself has to be purged of words that suggest anything like regulation. The word "rule" has Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 357 gone into the limbo of forbidden words and has been replace.d with safe words like "guidelines," "directives." As an overreaction to the regulation of everything, many are spastic about the regulation of anything. In many cases even the revised constitutions, the product of much work, prayer, study, discussion, are very careful to be "safe" in their terminology. Words that have any connotation of structure are carefully avoided. Very often these constitutions are written on the tide of overreaction and are careful to play down any idea of subordination of self to anything like structure. Yet it is a matter of common sense that structure is one of the components of growth that we spoke of earlier. It is like the branches of a tree through which the life flows to produce the fruit. Of course, structure without life is dead, and life without structure is aimless. Along with this reaction to overregulation, there is also the reaction to oversupervision. Some religious consider their duty is done if they "check in" occasionally to let superiors know what is happening. In many cases, superiors themselves have abdicated any real role of authority. They see their role only as serving as a kind of check point to keep the traffic running smoothly. These remarks should not be construed as hankering after the days of yore, where every detail in a person's life was regulated, and being an authority was identified with giving orders. They serve to point out a fact, however. Overreaction to that kind of a life has often resulted in a caricature not simply of religious life, but of any kind of life, which needs a certain structure and regulation if there is to be concerted work for a goal. The Reaction to Institution Along with the reaction against anonymity and structure, there is the reaction against institution. While this word is related to structure, when we use it here we are thinking of the corporate nature of the religious group. It takes into consideration the relationship of the part to the whole, and the whole to the part. We see the same phenomenon here that we have commented on above. There is a profound malaise with everything connoted" by the word "institutional." Once again, as a reaction against certain features of our institutional life, this movement can be very healthy. However, when it becomes an overreaction, the components of change begin to clash instead of supporting each other. One aspect of the reaction to "institution" is the movement to small commu-nities. It is an attempt to "de-institutionalize" one's life. It is too early to assess the results of this. In some cases, it has resulted in a more genuine community life, both within the small community, and in the relationship of the small community to all of the other communities. In other instances, the s~ into individuals who share the same rooms without sh~ As part of this reaction against institution, there i., vision of one's apostolate to one's personal career. apostolate of many religious communities has lost tl~ has been reduced for all practical purposes to a group own flight plans. The apostolates that have suffered areas, where hospitals and schools have closed and r facing an uncertain future, because they have no !~ whether religious will still be interested in such work. Now I feel I must tread where even angels fear religious garb. A few years ago (though it seems like a concerned with modifying the religious garb. Now it nail communities degenerate ing anything else. the tendency to narrow the is a great tragedy that the community dimension and individuals turning in their the most are those in rural aany others find themselves uarantee from year to year walk. It is the matter of ',entury) the discussions were a matter in many cases of 358 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 adoption of a mode of dress which in no way disti.nguishes a person as a religious. This is a very touchy subject. Though the question of clothing is trivial in itself when compared with values like faith and charity, it assumes in practice an importance out of all proportion to the fact that it is something extrinsic, while the other values are intrinsic. This phenomenon should already give us a hint concerning the nature of clothing. Clothes are never merely extrinsic. They are like the face. They mirror forth the person behind the face. We have been speaking of the reaction against anonymity, structure, and institution, where an overreaction results in individualism instead of personalism, fragmentation instead of integration, careerism instead of group apostolate. It seems that the question of clothing is of particular importance because it becomes as it were the symbol of the reaction against all of these classical features, not just against one of them. On the other hand, is it not possible that it has become an anti-symbol, where it symbolizes individualism, fragmentation, and careerism? We hope that, even though this is such a sensitive subject, most of us are beyond the stage where rational discussion is swallowed up in emotional reactions. We seem to have forgotten that the social sciences have given us much insight into the matter of clothes. All studies of human clothing point out the basic fact that clothes are not just things. They are part of the body-person, t Leaning on the research of the social sciences, we would like to comment on two aspects of clothing: what we wear gives visible shape to our inner attitude, and in turn what we wear shapes the attitudes. In both cases, this comes from the fact that clothes have a symbolic nature. Our inner attitudes are expressed in the way we speak, act, and dress. This is the law of our being. Human clothing is not just a protection against the elements. It forms an important link in that interlocking network of symbols in which we communicate with one another. Clothes are a function of meaning even more than words. They do in fact provide the light in which people interpret our words. We all recall the story of the Turkish astronomer in The Little Prince. No learned society accepted the report of his discovery of the new asteroid until he changed from Turkish clothes into European costume. Clothing, therefore, is never neutral. While this is true for every human being, it seems that it is especially true. for women. Clothes are not blank cartridges. When Judith prepared to meet Holofernes, she knew what every woman knows. Clothes are a manifestation of inner intentionality. The medium is the message. There are three levels of our existence, each of which is manifested by the way we dress. On the first level, clothes manifest our inner attitudes. On the second level, they manifest something more superficial, a job that we have, as we see in the uniform of a policeman, a soldier, a nurse. On the third and most profound level, they symbolize our meaning. A wedding dress, for example, is more than a symbol of an inner attitude, more than a uniform someone wears to get married. It symbolizes the meaning of a person's life, which from this point on is to be a life-with-another. The same is true of the vestments worn by the priest when he is celebrating. They symbolize more than a mentality. They are not a uniform used for worship. They serve to draw the worshippers into a new mode of existence. The symbolic aspect of clothing is obvious. There is another aspect of clothing, I see for example in Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences the entries under "Dress," "Fashion," and so forth; see also: J. C. Flugel, The Psychblogy of Clothes (New York, 1950), and Mary Shaw Ryan, Clothing: A Study in Human Behavior (New York, 1966). Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 however, which we do not think about as often. Clotl as the saying goes, "clothes make the man." In a ge man more really than man makes the clothes. All psychologists, and for that matter anyone w aware that the most sure way to change a person's v the symbols which surround his life. A person's changing his ideas alone. The change comes fr( meaningful sense symbols which gradually change sudden a person finds himself thinking in a different way a person dresses affects the way he thinks. self-image; they create it. Clothes are like reflectors. are, but they also act as reflectors in which we see of what we see. It is of great importance for religious to avail the~ matter of clothing provided by the social scientists. 0 that clothes are a way of speaking. The question to be To what extent should what I wear speak to others' inner character, or my job, or my meaning? Similarb psychological effect that clothes have on our thinking" Let us sum up our remarks for this first part. We r~ growth depend on the harmonious interworking of t many cases we saw th, at these components, insteac ended up in antagonistic positions. This can be trace overreaction to what is called a classical mentality. Ma from reaction, but where reaction gets out of bound: frustrate progress. We pointed out three areas in whi have been particularly strong: against anonymity, : nature of religious life which we globally describ~ commented on the fact that attitudes toward, religi influenced by the same type of reaction. The Loss of Shared Values and Shared Vision We mentioned above that the components of c! synthesis through shared faith and shared values. Whe works and lives at cross purposes. They are like rowe trying to row in his own direction. There is no doubt that the atmosphere of seculari~ and hearts of many religious. This is a process of h that are distinctively Christian are leveled to a vague, h betterment. Those values of the gospel which are rationalistic mind and sinful nature are de-scandaliz~ categories of relevance. Those gospel values which res Such are the scandal of the cross, the virtues of h~ renuntiation, repentance, and penance. In some cases secularization has not only de-Christ: even infected the ideas that some religious have about To all appearances some religious seem to have lost the Sometimes the gospel values crystalized in the tra chastity, poverty, and obedience, are lost in the perf~ vows is "updated" into some more meaningful an~ 359 es not only manifest the man; luine sense, clothes make the no knows human nature, are ,hole personality is to change character is not changed by ,m the pressure exerted by the concepts, until all of a way than he did before. The They not only express his ['hey not only reflect what we urselves and assume the shape tselves of the insights into the ne cannot avoid the basic fact answered by everyone is this: ' Should clothes manifest my ,, we have to be aware of the entioned that all progress and ~e components of growth. In of supporting one another, at least in great part, to an ny positive features can come ~ it delivers ultimatums which .~h this overreaction see.ms to ;tructure, and the corporate d ds institution. Finally we ~us garb are to "some extent ~ange are kept in a healthy a these are lost, a community rs in a boat, each of whom is ation has infected the mind~ arizontalization where values umanistic concern for human a perennial scandal to the d and adapted to the bland st adaptation are abandoned. ~nility, docility, abnegation, anized the gospel, but it has God, Christ, and the Church.

Issue 21.2 of the Review for Religious, 1962. ; FRANCIS J. WEBER The Relics of Christ The spiritual value of a relic is directly proportional to the devotion it inspires in those who venerate it. Apart from this spiritual significance, the relic is merely a his-torical curiosity. It may or may not be of archaeological value to the museums of the world. The official attitude of the Church regarding individual relics is one of extreme reserve. In most cases, the Church prudently withholds definitive judgment on even the most demonstrably ancient relics. In fact, while reluctant to proclaim the authenticity of a particular reli.c, the Church has not infrequently withdrawn from public Veneration relics whose claims were found to be dubious or spurious. In recent memory, this has happened in the case of "St. Philomena," center of a devoted cult for more than a cen-tury, though she had never been formally canonized and nothing actually was known of her life. Despite the many miracles attributed to the relics of this supposed second century martyr, unearthed from a catacomb in 1802, mod-ern research shed doubt on the authenticity of the re-mains. It should be noted that the decree of the Sacred Congre-gation of Rites in 1961 dropping the feast of St. Philomena from the liturgical calendar did not touch on the validity of the miracles attributed to her intercession. They may well have been genuine miracles performed by God be-cause of the faith and devotion of those who prayed for them. The oldest and most cherished of Christian. relics nat-urally are those reputed to have been connected with the holy person of Jesus Christ Himself. Those few that are still extant, for the most part, have sufficient historical documentation to merit scholarly attention. It must be borne in mind that the honor and veneration given to these objects is directed primarily to Christ. Hence, in, some cases where documentation establishes only doubtful authenticity, the Church is certainly jus-tified in remaining silent, if it is understood that in so doing the Church is not giving positive approval and if 4, 4. Francis J. Weber, a dPiorcieesste o of ft hLeo As rAchn-- geles, is presently assigned to Catholic University, Wash-ington 17, D.C. VOLUME 21, 1962 79 4. 4. Francis ~. Weber REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 80 greater honor and glory are thereby rendered to Almighty God. Our approach to this obscure and sometimes contro-versial subject is that of the historian, who presents only the facts, leaving conclusions to the reader, The True Cross The Cross on which our Savior died has been tradi-tionally the most precious of all Christian relics. Tiny splinters of the True Cross have been so widely distributed that, in the words of St. Cyril, "the whole inhabited earth is full of relics from the wood of the Cross." St. Helena is credited with discovery of the True Cro:;s in 327 A.D.1 Early testimony of the fathers, among them Ambrose, Jerome, Sozomen, and Theodoret, recounts this marvelous event in copious detail. The Cross was found in an abandoned cistern near Mount Calvary. Identifica-tion as the True Cross, according to St. Ambrose, was easy enough since the titulus was still affixed. To commemo-rate this great occasion, St. Helena orderd a magnificent basilica to be erected over the H61y Sepulchre. She gave it the name of St. Constantius in honor of her son, the Roman emperor. When Helena returned to Rome, the relics were placed in the Sessorian Basilica, Santa Croce in Gerusalemme. A substantial segment, of the. Cross-was left in Jerusalem where it annually attracted thousands of devout pilgrims. It was captured in the seventh century by Khosru II, the Persian conqueror. When the holy relic was returned by Heraclius in 628, the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross was instituted. The Jerusalem relic was divided many times. When certain of these fragments fell into the hands of the Mohammedans, the Crusades were inspired to restore them. An extensive and intensive study of the True Cross was made and published in 1870 by Rohault de Fleury. After examination of all extant fragments claimed to be from the True Cross, he drew up a minute catalogue of them, with precise weights and measurements. His findings proved that if all known pieces of the True Cross were put together, they would consitute less than one-third of the original Cross. This effectively silenced skeptics who had scoffed that the total of supposed fragments was bigger than the Cross itself. De Fleury's calculations2 were based on a cross of pine wood weighing an estimated 75 kilograms. The volume of 1 Louis de Combres, The Finding of the True Cross (London: Trubner, 1907). = Charles Rohault de Fleury, Mdraoire sur les instruments de la Passion (Paris: Lesort, 1870), pp. 97-179. this. cross would have been approximately 178 million cubic millimeters. Known volume of the existing relics does not exceed ,t0 million cubic millimeters. 0 Crux ave, spes unica! The Title of the Cross There are many fanciful legen~ls associated with the dis-covery of the True Cross by St. Helena. The manner of distinguishing the True Cross of Christ .from those of the two thieves is usually related with colorful if not his-torically accurate circumstances. However, St. Ambrose testifies there was no problem in identifying the True Cross as the titulus or title-piece was still intact. Other writers corroborate this account, notably Sts. Cyrils and Jerome. As has been the case with so many holy relics, the titulus was divided into seveial pieces. The Diary of Etheria lo-cates a piece of the titulus in Jerusalem in 380 A.D, Helena undoubtedly brought a part of the title back to Rome with her. Regrettably, there is no further documentation avail-able on the fate of the Jerusalem relic, For some reason, very likely to protect it from invaders, the Roman relic seems to.have been walled up in an arch of Santa Croce by Placidus Valentinian III in the fifth century. In the twelfth century it was accidentally un-earthed by Gherardo Caccianemici, titular cardinal and later Pope Lucius II. The future pontiff placed his seal on the reliquary and replaced it in its hiding place. In 1492 Cardinal Mendoza of Toledo rediscovered the relic which he immediately presented to the then Holy Father, Innocent VIII. A papal bull, Admirabile Sacra-mentum, was issued, after which the titulus was exposed for public veneration in Santa Croce. The title-piece is of wood, about nine by five inches in size, and comprises two-and-one-half lines of faded in-scription. Hebrew, Greek and Latin characters are dis-cernible, all of which axe printed in reverse, a practice common with the Romans of the time of Christ. The Shroud of Turin It is recorded in Chapter 27 of St. Matthew how Joseph. of Arimathea wrapped the body of Jesus in a "dean linen cloth." No further mention of this funeral shroud appears in Christian literature until the time of St. Nino4 (d. ~38), who relates how Peter removed the shroud from the tomb shortly after the Resurrection. The fourteenth century Byzantine historian, Nicephorus Callista, tells how this 8Philip Gonnet, De Sancti Cyrilli Hiersolymitani Catechismt~ (Paris: 1876). ¯ Edward Wuenschel, C.Ss.R.0 Sell-Portrait oI Christ (Esopus, New York: Holy Shroud Guild, 1954). ÷ ÷ ÷ Relics ot Christ VOLUME 21, 1962 81 4. Francis $. Weber REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Holy Shroud, soaked with the blood of Christ and bearing an image of His holy face, found its way to Constantino-. pie: "Pulcheria, Empress of the East, having built a basil-ica. at Blachernes in 436, piously deposited there the fu. neral linens of Our Savior, which had just been rediscov-. ered and which the Empress Eudoxia had sent to her." Eyewitnesses to the presence of the Holy Shroud at Con-stantinople are recorded in the Annals of 631, 640, 749, 1157 and 1171 A.D. During the Fourth Crusade, the Holy Shroud was sur. rendered in recompense to Otho de la Roche, Duke of Athens and Sparta. The Duke in 1204 sent the prized relic to his father in France. Soon after, it came into possession of the Bishop of Besan~on. A fire caused minor damage to the shroud in 1349. Later that same year, it was stolen from its case in Besan~on Cathedral and given to King Philip IV who in turn gave it to Geoffrey, Count of Char., ney and Lord of Lirey. There is documentary evidence ¯ that it was at Lirey in 1360. During the Hundred Years War, the Holy Shroud wa:; handed over by Geoffrey's granddaughter to the House of Savoy for safekeeping. In 1454, Pope Sixtus IV directed the Duke of Savoy, Louis I, to build a shrine for the shroud at his Chambery residence. During the troubled war years of the sixteenth century, the Holy Shroud was moved from town to town in France. It narrowly missed being destroyed a second time by fire in 1532, and in fact its corners were noticeably singed. At the request of the aged Charles Borromeo, the shroud in 1578 was brought to Turin where it has re-mained for the past four hundred years. It is presently preserved in the black marble chapel specially built for it behind the city's beautiful fifteenth century cathedral. Several pronouncements by the Holy See leave litth: doubt regarding the Church's official attitude toward the Turin Shroud. An Office and a Mass were formally ap-proved by Pope Julius II in the bull Romanus Ponti[ex issued in 1506. Sixtus IV had previously stated that in thbl Holy Shroud "men may look upon the true blood and portrait of Jesus Christ Himself." A remarkable discovery was made in .1898, when a pho-tograph of the Turin Shroud revealed the faint, blurred image on the ancient linen to be an actual "negative" produced by vapors from a human body covered witll spices. The negative of the modern photo~a negative of a negative, thus producing a positive--offered a far more pronounced picture of a human face than was previously recognizable. ChemiCally, this "vapograph" was caused by the am-moniacal emanations from the surface of the body after an unusually violent death. It has been proved experimen-tally that these vapors are capable of producing a deep reddish brown stain which would vary in intensity with the distance from a cloth soaked with oil and aloes. Hence the image of Christ's face on the shroud is a natural nega-tive. This modern evidence, together with the identification of human bloodstains, prompted Dr. Paul Vignon to read a brilliant paper before the Acaddmie des Sciences, in which he suggested that any explanation denying the authenticity of the Turin Shroud would be scientifically inaccurate. It might also be mentioned that, the impression on the shroud of the Grown of Thorns is in perfect conformity with the "helmet type" of crown displayed at Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. Further, the nail wounds are not in the palms of the hands but in the wrists. It has been re-alized only in our own times that this was a physical neces-sity, for nails in the palms .of the hands would not have been able to sustain the weight of a human body. One of the major opponents and critics of the Turin Shroud was the anti-pope Clement VII, first of the Avig-non Pretenders. His opposition apparently stemmed from a vague charge made by the Bishop of Troyes that the shroud was the work of a local craftsman skilled in the subtle art of simulating antique handiwork. Other shrouds, thirty in all, each purporting to be the genuine article, have turned up through the centuries. Most notable are thosestill preserved at Besan~on, Ca-douin, and Champiegne. These shrouds likewise bear im-pressions alleged to be those of Christ's face and body. However, the preponderance of ,historical evidence seems to leave no doubt that among all the claimants, only the Shroud of Turin has a valid pretension to au-thenticity. The Pillar of the Scourging The column of the Praetorium to which Christ was bound during His scourging was discovered in the For-tress of Antonia in 373 A.D., according to a chronicle penned by St. Ephrem. St. Paulinus of Nola,5 writing after 409, refers to several relics of the Passion, among them "the pillar at which He was scourged." Philip of Brosserius saw the pillar in the Church of the Holy Se-pulchre in 1285. Some time before the end of the four-teenth century it was broken and one part was sent to Constantinople. An interesting Christian" tradition, dating back to .the See Letter 310f Paulinus. ÷ ÷ ÷ Relics o] Christ VOLUME 21, 1962 83 ÷ ÷ ÷ F~ancis $. Webe~ REVIEW I:OR REI.I~IOUS 84 fourth century, holds that Christ was actually scourged twice. St. John Chrysostom tells us this second flagellation took place at the house of Caiaphas after the mock trial. This tradition finds prominent mention in early chroni-cles. The pillar used for the second scourging was reserved in the Church of Mount Sion, the Cenacle, where St. Jerome reported he saw it. During the Persian invasion, it too seems to have been broken into several pieces. The portion left at the Cenacle was lost in 1537. The other part was returned to a church subsequently erected on the sit~ of the house of Caiaphas. Here it was venerated until the fourteenth century, when it completely disappeared. In 1222 A.D., Giovanni Cardinal Colonna, papal envoy to the Orient, returned to Rome with a fragment of the Pillar of the Scourging, apparently given him by the Sara-cens. He enshrined it in his titular church of St. Praxedes, where it may be seen today. The Roman pillar is of mar-ble, about two feet four inches high. It is.probably one of the parts of the Praetorian column. Its counterpart in Jerusalem is of a different material and may have formed the lower part of the pillar. The Holy Stairs Among the many treasures brought back from the Holy Land by St. Helena was the marble staircase from the palace of Pontius Pilate in Jerusalem. It is still extant,e The stone steps number twenty-eight and are said. to have been sanctified by the feet of Christ himself when He as-cended this stairway at the Praetorium. The stairway, reconstructed in Rome, originally formed part of the old Lateran Palace, leading into a chapel dedi-cated to St. Sylvester. When the Lateran Palace was torn down by Pope Sixtus V in 1589, the stairs were moved to their present location. Today the Scala Sancta constitutes the entranceway to the Holy of Holies~ an old private papal chapelY In its present site, the Scala Sancta is flanked by additional stair-wells on either side. Traditionally the Holy Stairs are ascended only on one's knees. The last pope to ascend the stairway in this fashion was Plus IX on the eve of his exile from Rome in 1870. Pope St. Pius X decreed a plenary indulgence for those who devoutly ascend the Scala Sancta on their knees as testimony of their love for Christ. Replicas of the Scala Sancta have been erected at Lourdes and other centers of pilgrimage. e Herbert Thursfon, The Holy Year o] Jubilee (Westminster: New-man, 1949). ~ Philippe Lauer, Le trdsor de Sancta Sanctorum (Paris: Leroux, t~o~). The Soldier's Lance Mention is made of the soldier's lance in Chapter 19 of St. John. In his account of the Savior's death, St. John re-lates that "one of the soldiers opened His side with a spear . " The first extra-Biblical.~mention of~,this relic seems to be by Anthony of P~efiZ~, who wrot~'~a~;he saw the Crown of Thorns and "the lance with which He was struck in the side," in the Basilica of Mount Sion.s A miniature of the renowned Syriac manuscript, illu-minated by Rabulas.in 586, assigns the name Longinus to the soldier whose lance pierced the crucified Christ. Gas-siodorus and Gregory of Tours speak of a spear venerated at Jerusalem, which was thought to be identical with that mentioned in Scripture. After the fall of Jerusalem in 615 A.D., several of the major relics of the Passion fell into the hands of the Per-sians. The Chronicon Paschale relates that a piece of the soldier's lance came into the possession of Nicetas, who enclosed it in an icon and presented it to Santa Sophia in Constantinople. In 1241 the Holy Lance was given to King St. Louis for Sainte Chapelle in Paris. No trace of this part of the lance has been found since it was lost during the French Revolu-tion, some time after its removal to the Bibliothkque Na-tionale. The second and larger part of the shaft of the soldier's iance was reported seen by Arculpus in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem about 670 A.D. Later it was taken to Constantinople, where Sir John Mandeville writes about it. It was sent to Pope Innocent VIII in 1492 in return for favors shown to the captured Zizin, brother of Sultan Bajazet. At request of the French hierarchy, during the pontifi-cate of Benedict XIV an investigation was conducted to ascertain the .relation, if any, between the two relics, one at Paris, the other at Rome. A papal brief, issued after the inquiry, concluded that both relics were originally parts of the same shaft. Several other supposedly genuine Ho!y Lances are pre-served in various treasuries of Europe, but none of the others offers a valid claim to authenticity. Even the story told by William of Malmesbury about the Holy Lance given to King Athelstan of England is historically in-accurate. Since the tragic loss of ihe Paris relic, only the Roman lance remains. It is exposed each year for veneration dur-ing Holy Week by the Archpriest of St. Peter's Basilica. 8 Francois Martin, Reliques de la Passion (Paris: Lethielleux, 1897). 4- 4- 4- Relics of Christ VOLUME 21, 1962 85 + + + F~ancis ~. Webe~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 86 Veronica's Veil According to the historian Eusebius in his commentary on the Legend of Abgar and according to remarks con-tained in the apocryphal work Mors Pilati, several au-thentic portraits of Jesus Christ were made at various times during His lifetime. The oldest and most authenticated of these images has been known to Romans for centuries as the Vera Icon or Veil of Veronica. So highly has this image been held in Roman esteem, that a Mass celebrating it was composed and inserted into at least one of the early Augsburg Missals.9 There is no reference in Scripture to a woman offering her veil to Christ during His Sacred Passion. But it is highly plausible that there was such a compassionate soul among those who followed Christ on His way to Mount Calvary. The incident itself is undoubtedly worthy of some credibility, since it has found its expression since very early times in the Christian devotion of the Stations of the Cross. Apparently the holy woman in question, known in pious legend only as Veronica, found her way to Rome, where she presented her Vera Icon---True Picture--to Pope Clement I. The veil, ostensibly bearing the image of the suffering Jesus miraculously pressed into it, was vener-ated in several places until the pontificate of John VII who had it enclosed in an ornate reliquary. During the ensuing centuries, the Holy See has exhibited particular solicitude for this precious relic. It had been reserved to the Pope's own chapel, St. Peter's Basilica, where it is ex, posed briefly during Holy Week for veneration by the faithful. The Holy Grail A whole cycle of romantic legends has been woven about the theme of the Holy Grail,1° but the legendary quests, inspiring though they may be, add nothing to the few slim historical facts available. Of the two notable "pretenders" to genuine Grailship, one alone merits se-rious consideration. And while tl~e chalice displayed at Valencia is not generally accepted as genuine by histo-rians, its proponents present a tolerable case in its behalf. An account by Bishop Siuri of Cordoba relates that the chalice used by Christ at the Last Supper was brought to~ Rome by St. Peter soon after the death of Mary. It was used frequently at Papal Masses until the pontificate of Sixtus II. During the persecutions of Valerian, St. Lawrence sent the chalice to his native Huesca in the northern part of o Sainte Veronique, apostre de l'Aquitaine (Toulouse: 1877). a0 Nutt, Studies o[ the Holy Grail (London: 1888). the Spanish peninsula where the Holy Grail remained until 713 when it was removed to San Juan de la Pena for protective custody during the Moslem invasion. A deed of exchange, dated September 26, 1399, testifies that King Martin acquired the Holy Grail for his private chapel in the Palace of the Aljaferia. About 1424 .the chalice was moved to Valencia by King Alfonso V. The chalice has remained at Valencia since the fifteenth cen-tury except for a brief period during the Spanish Civil War when part of the cathedral was burned by the Com-munists. It was restored to its chapel in the Metropolitan Cathedral at Valencia by the Franco government in 1937. Artistically, the Holy Grail is Corinthian in styling,ix made of agate or Oriental carnelian. The handles on ei-ther side are common appurtenances for drinking vessels of its period. The costly pearls, rubies, and emeralds were added much later. The Crown of Thorns St. Paulinus of Nola, writing early in the fifth century, is the first of the chroniclers to mention specifically "the thorns with which Our Lord was crowned." Other early writers allude apparently to this relic of the Passion, but their comments are vague and inconclusive. Writing about 570, Cassiodorus speaks of "the thorny crown, which was set upon the head of our Redeemer in order that all the thorns of the world might be gathered together and broken." The pilgrimage of the monk Ber-nard establishes that the Crown Of Thorns was still at Mount Sion in 870. According to fairly recent studies, the whole crown was transferred to Byzantium about 1063, although many ot the thorns must have been removed at an earlier date. The Latin Emperor of Constantinople, Baldwin II, offered the Crown of Thorns to St. Louis in 1238. After lengthy ne-gotiations with the Venetians, the r(lic was taken to Paris and placed in the newly built Sainte Chapelle where it remained an object of national devotion until the French Revolution. For security, the crown was placed in the BibliothOque Nationale during the bloody days of the upheaval. In 1806, it was restored to Notre Dame Cathedral. It was en-shrined in its present rock crystal reliquary in 1896. All that is left to be seen today is the circlet of rushes, devoid of any thorns. What remained of the original sixty or seventy thorns were apparently removed by St. Louis and deposited in separate reliquaries. The king and his successors distributed the thorns until nothing remained at Paris but the circlet. The Holy Chalice o/the Last Supper (Valencia: 1958). 4. 4. + Relics o] Christ VOLUME 21, 1962 Francis J. Weber REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 88 Reportedly there are more than 700 "holy thorns" scat-tered around the world. But only those traceable to St. Louis, to one of the emperors, or to St. Helena are genu-ine. Such authentic thorns aCe at Cluny, St. Praxedes in Rome, Santa Croce, and at Aachen, to mention but a few. The Nails There seems to be little agreement among Biblical scholars on the number of nails used to fasten our Blessed Lord to His Cross. Religious art of the early Middle Ages almost unanimously depicts the crucified Savior with four nails~ In the thirteenth century, however, it became in-creasingly common to represent the feet of Christ as placed one over the other and pierced with a single nail. Either of these methods is compatible with the informa-tion we have about the punishment of crucifixion as practiced by the Romans. The earliest authors, among them St. Ambrose, speak only of two nails.12 And it is a point of interest that the two oldest known representations of the Crucifixion, the carved door of Santa Sabina in Rome and the Ivory Panel in the British Museum, show no signs of nails in the feet. The most commonly accepted opinion is that there were three nails that actually touched the body of Christ. This is borne out by the evidence of the Shroud of Turin. In addition, there were probably another three nails used for the titulus, the seat block, and the foot rest. St. Ambrose and St. Jerome speak of the discovery of the nails in Jerusalem by Constantine's mother, St. Hel-ena, in the third century. Sozomen notes in passing that St. Helena had no trouble identifying the nails. One of the nails was fashioned into an imperial diadem for the emperor. This Iron Crown of Lombardy is now at Manza. Another nail was made into a bit for the imperial horse. This relic is believed to be the same as the one at Carpentas. A third nail was venerated for many years in Jerusalem before being moved to Rome's Santa Croce by Pope Gregory the Great. Several European treasuries claim to possess one or more of the true nails, but their, authenticity is clouded with the passage of time. Most of the confusion regarding the thirty or more known spurious nails can be traced to the well-intentioned Charles Borromeo who had reproduc-tions made of the nails and gave them out as memorials of the Passion. Conclusion These, then, are the more commonly accepted relics as-sociated with the holy person of Jesus Christ, our Savior. u De Combres, op. cir. If they have served to increase devotion to Almighty God, they have fulfilled their noble purpose. A saintly priest was once heard to exclaim: "Our Savior's greatest bequest to His children was not a treasury filled with mere material relics, but a golden tabernacle in which He Himself resides to be our fo6d~f6r all ~tei'nit~.!: 4. Relics ot Christ VOLIJME 21, ~962 89 EDWARD J. STOKES, S.J. Examination of Conscience for Local Superiors ÷ Edward J. Stokes, S.J., is Professor o[ Canon Law at St. Mary of the Lake Seminary, Munde-lein, Illinois. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 90 In the summer of 1961 Father Edward J. Stokes, s.J.0 was asked to conduct the annual retreat for a group of local superiors. One of the projects he asked them to do during the retreat was to compose on the basis of their own experience an examination of conscience to be used by local superiors at the time of the monthly recollection, the annual retreat, or at any other suitable time. The ques-tions submitted by this group of local superiors were syn-thethized by Father Stokes who then submitted them to the REvmw. The questions were further revised by Father John E. Becket, S.J., of the editorial staff of the REw~w; the final version of them is given in the following pages. Readers, whether superiors or subjects, who have ideas for the improvement of this examination of conscience either by way of addition, deletion, or emendation are urged to submit their views to the Rzwvw. If enough of such improvements are received, a newly revised version of the examination of conscience for local superiors will be published in a later issue of the R~viEw. Personal Religious Li[e 1. Do I strive to come closer to Christ by leading the life of union and interior peace with Him? Do I do everything in, with, and for Christ? 2. Am I afraid of sanctity because of the demands that it will make on me? 3. Have I forgotten that if I live better, I will pray bet-ter, and that if I pray better, I will live better? 4. Am I firmly convinced of our Lord's words: If you love me, my Father will love you and we will come to you and make our abode with you? 5. Am I convinced that this office of superior, when ful-filled to the best of my ability, is a source of sanctification for me? 6. To be a superior means to carry a cross. How often do I thank our Lord for the privilege of suffering with Him? 7. Am I a superior truly aware of my ownnothingness? 8. When I suffer discouragement, is it because I have not succeeded in doing God's will or because I have not succeeded in pleasing men? ~-,, . ~ °~' ~ 9. Am I deeply convinced that if I have done my best to fulfill God's will, I have succeeded? 10. Do I accept as personal any recognition, privilege, or service accorded me by reason of my office as superior? 11. How often do I make a Holy Hour in petition for the solution of a problem or to obtain a special grace for my fellow religious or myself? Ever a Holy Hour of thanks-giving? 12. Do I make the Sacred Heart of Jesus the King and Center of our religious house and Mary its Queen? 13. Do I take St. Joseph as the advocate and the pro-tector of the interior life of each one dwelling in our house? Personal Recollection and Prayer 14. Am I convinced that recollection is an absolute ne-cessity for any progress in the life of prayer? 15. Is my spirit of recollection such that it provides an atmosphere conducive to prayer? 16. How do I prepare the points of meditation in the evening? 17. What special meditation has drawn me closer to Christ?_ 18. Do I sometimes excuse myself from my prayers by telling myself that this or that duty must take first place? 19. Have I given full time. to my prayers or have I hur-ried through them in order to get to my other work? 20. Does the demand for great activity cause distractions in my prayers or perhaps lead me to neglect prayer; or does it rather make me realize my dependence on God? 21. Have I said common vocal prayers reverently and not annoyed others by my haste? 22. Am I observant of recollection immediately after breakfast? 23. Do I make a special effort to keep recollected on the days when it seems especially impossible? 24. Do I ever revert to God's presence in me throughout the day, to adore Him, thank Him, love Him, speak to Him about the needs of soul and body, my own, and those of my fellow religious? Confession 25. Do I make it a point to confess my added responsi-bility by reason of my office when I confess criticism of su-periors or priests? ÷ ÷ ÷ local Superiors VOLUME 21, 1962 91 4, 4, E. ]. Stokes, $.1. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 92 26. Do I make it a point to confess my added respons.i-bility as a superior when I confess failure to exercise ju:~- tice or charity in dealing with my.fell0w religioug? 27. Do I take advantage of my weekly confessions to re-ceive spiritdal direction? 28. Have my confessions been hurried due to an in-efficient planning of my time? Particular Examen 29. Is my particular examen specific? 30. Do I make a tie-in of retreat resolutions, the particu-lar examen, and weekly confession? 31. Do I make a daily examination of the motives that govern my external life? 32. Do I make my particular examen a vital part of my day as a religious? Mortification 33. Do I realize that my chief mortification is to tie found in the justice and the charity of my dealings with others? 34. Am I willing to perform one interior and one exte-rior act of mortification each day in order to obtain the blessing of our Lord on my community? Charity 35. Is love for others the outstanding virtue in my life? 36. Have I deliberately practised acting towards Christ in each person I meet? 37. Do I appreciate the importance of my personal charity to this community as a cell of the Mystical Body? Faith 38. Are the mysteries of Christianity the basis of my re-ligious life? 39. Have I made the connection between these mys-teries and the Rule, or have I let concern with the Rule obscure my reliance on broader Christian principles? Hope 40. Am I aware of the need for Christ's help in sanctify-ing myself by governing others? 41. Do I realize that Christ is able to utilize my faults in sanctifying others? Principles of Government 42. Do I realize that the most exalted duty of a su-perior is care for the spiritual life of his subjects? 43. Do I seek to serve God by serving my fellow re-ligious always and everywhere? 44. Do I pray regularly for the spiritual well-being and growth of those in my house? 45. Do I try to help each religious to develop a deep inferior life by my words and by my example? 46. Do I give my fellow religious an example of the love of regularity? . 47. Do I try to help my fellow religious develop a ready and loving acceptance of God's holy will by the example of my own acceptance of it in all my difficulties, trials, and failures as well as in my joys and success? 48. Do I realize and am I firmly convinced that seeing, accepting, and willing all that God wills for me in every circumstance of my life is the essence of sanctity; and do I teach my fellow religious this? 49. Am I trying to establish in my fellow 'religious a sense of the Mystical Body so that they are able to com-municate spiritually one with another? 50. Do I look for Christ in the problem religious? in the impudent child in the classroom? Do I see Him looking at me through the eyes of all my charges, seeking my love and devotion? 51. How often have I passed a fellow religious in the hall without noticing and greeting him? 52. In making use of the aspiration, "Praise be to Jesus Christ" during the periods of recollection, do I really try to see Christ present in that person?' 53. Did I personally visit at least one sick person of the parish or community, or delegate a religious to do so? 54. Have I in any way, by actions or words, shown a mere toleration for lay persons associated with our work? Or have I accepted them as allies in our work? Community Exercises 55. Do I faithfully observe the daily order? 56. Do I realize that as superior I set the tone and the spirit of the house, in recollection, cheerfulness, peace, hospitality? 57. Do I let human respect interfere with the duty I have as superior to insist on charity and the observance of the rules in my community? 58. Do I miss or am I late for spiritual exercises unless for a grave reason? 59. What community exercises have I missed in the past month? My reasons? Did I make them up at another time, or did I let them go through neglect or carelessness? 60. What can be done to make the chapter of faults more effective? 61. Do I create a family spirit? 62. Is my recreation self-centered? Do I do what I want and not talk or .do too much of the talking? Local Superiors VOLUME 21, 1962 95 ]. Stokes, FOR R~:LIGIOUS 94 63. Do I endeavor to make community recreation an exercise of wholesome family spirit? 64. Is my house truly a religious house or does it have the impersonality of a modern railroad station? Personal Qualities 65. Am I even-tempered? 66. Do I show true joy in my work? 67. Have I betrayed immaturity and lack of courage by disproportionate manifestations of disappointment and discouragement? 68. Do I allow my feelings to regulate my actions? 69. Do I have a good sense of humor? 70. How much self-pity does my countenance mirror when things go wrong? 71. Am I approachable? 72. Do I try, as far as possible, to treat all my fellow re-ligious in the same way--not showing any partiality or favoritism? Have I excluded any or passed them over iu the sharing of responsibility or favors? Are the same few always near me? 73. Do I treat as sacred anything that a fellow religious tells me in confidence? 74. How many times in the past month have I been im-patient with my fellow religious? 75. How do I act or react when I know that one of my fellow religious has offended me? Do I~take it in a Christ:- like way or do I hold-a grudge? Do I consider violations of rule as offenses against me? 76. Do I as superior always show exterior peace, calm, and happiness? I must do this if I am going to be the un-derstanding, religious superior that I should be. 77. In the presence of outsiders do I always show great loyalty to each and every member of my community? 78, Am I as reserved as I should be while visiting in the parlor? 79. Am I kind to all lay people, regardless of how much they can, orhave helped financially or otherwise--look-ing to the good of their souls first and foremost? Government 80. Do I run a disorganized house so that my subjects tend to say: "We never know what we are going to do next"? 81. Do I get all the facts before I make a decision? 82. Do I hesitate in making the decisions that I must as superior? Do I harm my fellow religious by my habit of procrastination? 83. Am I under someone's influence in the decisions that I make, an older religious or a former superior? 84. Do I contradict my orders, thus making it difficult to know what is my will? 85. Am I available to my fellow religious? 86. Am I open to suggestions? 87. Do I delegate responsibility and do I trust those to whom I have delegated it? If a duty is not being done as I would, do I give it to someone else or take over myself rather than try to help? Do I show interest without in-terfering? 88. Do I give authority as well as responsibility to re-ligious when I give them a job? 89. Am I a politician in dealing with my fellow religious instead of a Christlike superior? 90. Am I unnecessarily secretive in trivial matters, keep-ing the community guessing? Do I not see that this will cause bad feelings? 91. Do I talk uncharitably or show displeasure to one of my subjects about another subject in the house? 92. Should I not close my eyes to many insignificant petty things? Should I not use tact and by my example bring it about that these failings and imperfections will vanish--al'though perhaps not totally? 93. How have I controlled the conversation at table? Was I alert always to see to it that it never became un-charitable or critical, especially regarding students? 94. Do I initiate conversation regarding worthwhile reading? 95. Do I give the required instruction time to the young religious? Do I conscientiously prepare these instructions? 96. Do I complain about fnoney? Am I overly anxious regarding finances? 97. What is my attitude toward the suggestions, deci-sions, or orders of extern superiors in the institution in which our community works? Fellow Religious 98. Do I as superior treat my subjedts as mature, dedi-cated persons? 99. Do I trust my fellow religious and have confidence in them and show them that I do by the way I treat them? 100. Do I correct all when only one needs the correc-tion? Do I not see that this causes much criticism and irritated discussion? 101. Do all the members of the community feel that they belong and are an important part of the whole? 102. Do I give my fellow religious encouragement and show them gratitude for the good work that they are doing? A pat on the back does not cost much but it means a great deal especially to those inclined to get discouraged at times. 103. Have I within the last month made it a point to 4. Local Superiors VOLUME 21, 1962 95 .÷ ÷ ÷ E. ]. Stokes, .S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 96 compliment or praise or show attention, at least in some small way, to each religious in my charge? 104. Has each of my subjects received some word of praise (not flattery) from me recently? 105. Do I encourage group discussions so that all the community can express themselves? Do I see that such discussions are well-prepared and stimulating? 106. Do I see to it that the rest of the community share,,i in the rich contributions that some of its members can give, those, for example, who have had special oppor-tunities for studies? 107. Do I seek to serve God by serving my fellow re-ligious always and everywhere? 108. Do I show concern for the trials and crosses of my fellow religious? 109. How often do I check and consider the welfare of ¯ each of my subjects--spiritual and physical? 110. Is understanding the essence of my charity? Do I try to put myself in the subject's place and realize his emotions, attitudes, and difficulties--or is my charity based solely on my own attitude and outlook on life? He might not always want done to him what I would want done to me. I must try to understand his viewpoint. 111. Is each religious an individual to me? 112. Do my fellow religious.feel wanted and valued by me? 113. Do my fellow religious find the quality of thought-fulness in me? 114. Do I make it a habit to direct my attention to each religious individually at least once during the day? 115. Have I tried to satisfy each one's basic need to be accepted, the need for belonging? 116. Have I made use of each one's talents (all of them), or do I level them down to an equal share from each? Do I, then, expect only three talents from one who has and can give ten talents? 117. Do I take too much ~or granted the conscientious and well-balanced religious who does not demand my at-tention? 118. Do I give each individual religious my undivided attention regardless of who he is and how often he may come to me in a given day? 119. Do I make a sincere effort to speak to each re-ligious some time each day? 120. Do I give a sufficient amount of time to those who need to talk over with me the question of students who may be a problem to them? This could be a problem of behavior or some method that would help teaching. If a teacher is weak in discipline, this is a good means of gently getting across the fact that the child is not always at fault. 121. How well uo I "listen" when religious come for permissions, advice, and such? With preoccupation? With patience? With haste or annoyance? And this especially at difficult times? Or am I gracious, patient, helpful, Christlike? Have I shown impatience with those who come to me with trifles? Which of them? Do I r~ally listen when a religious is telling me something---or am I finish-ing up this job or starting another? 122. Have I treated each religious the same behind his back as I have to his face? 123. Do I control my hurt when one of the religious tells lies about me to religious of our own house? 124. Can my subjects sway my will by flattery? 125. Do I afford my subjects the opportunity of sug-gesting spiritual reading books? 126. What have I done to encourage professional read-ing on the part of my subjects? Do I give them an ex-ample in this regard? Do I ever check,up on them on this point? 127. Do I seek to prepare my fellow religious for fu-ture responsible positions in the community? ÷ Local Superiors VOLUME 21, 1962 97 KATIE ROCK Restoration, with a Difference 4. + 4. Katie Rock lives at 200 Oak Street, Falls Church. Vir-ginia. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 98 Washington, D.C. is a city of contrasts. There are beau-tiful green expanses and there are dark, depressing alleys. There are massive monuments and tremendous buildingsl and there are rows and rows of shabby, run-down homes. Happily, there is city-wide slum-clearance consciousness; and already in some parts of town the monotonous rows are being converted into magnificent Town Houses with every modern feature. Restoration is taking place for many reasons, but unfortunately the power and profit motives seem the big reason. It is therefore refreshing to know that some are bringing their talents and inspiration to the restoration simply because they want to have part in "restoring all things to Christ." An assignment enhanced by my own curiosity took me to Foggy Bottom, the latest dilapidated section to be-come the site of intensive re-making. Situated only one.~ half mile from the White House, it is bounded roughly by Georgetown, George Washington University, the new State Department Building, and the Potomac River. This was my first visit to Foggy Bottom since it became "fash-ionable," and I was so fascinated as I walked down the narrow streets that I stopped to browse a bit. Gradually tiny broken-down row houses are being transformed into confortable city homes. Interesting colors, small but per.; fect gardens, unique combinations of contemporary and forsaken styling are attractive and appealing. Among the private homes there are apartment hotels arising. ¯ It was fun to speculate about the insides of these color., ful homes as I walked along the old brick sidewalks. Oc.; casionally a brass plate revealed an M.D. was occupant, or a navy captain, or a professor. A baby carriage in a tiny yard indicated there is new life in Foggy Bottom, too; When I arrived at my destination, the corner of H and 25th Streets, I stopped in wonder and admiration. Be-fore me was a turreted three-story structure of brick, painted a soft yellow with black trim which offsets awe-somely the octagon-shaped tower, dormer, and windows. There is a terrace in front, a landscaped yard, and I peeped onto a sheltered patio. A lacy black iron fence surrounds the property and a brass plate announces that this is the home of Melita god~ck,~A.I.A, g: Associates. I was welcomed inside by Melita, who introduced me to her assistant, Bernice, and after' being made to feel at home, I settled down to hear the story of a wonderful new venture into the new frontiers of our faith. Who is Melita? The decor and art work and religious atmosphere of this first floor indicate an unusual life. Melita was born in Milan, Italy, and educated at Vienna Polytechnic. She is a convert to Catholicism. Although she is an artist and sculptress, her professional experience and livelihood have mainly been centered On architec-ture. Twelve years were spent with other firms. Included in her work with those firms were high schools in Arling-ton, Virginia, and Rockville, Maryland, commercial buildings and a shopping center, a drive-in restaurant, hospitals.and the huge Medical Center of the National Institute of Health in Bethesda, Maryland, and many government buildings ranging from a missile base to renovations of Post Offices. Since establishing her private firm about three years ago, Melita has designed the Queen Anne's Lane Town Houses in Foggy Bottom valued at :~1,000,000 (and which won for her a Goid Medallion award), many residences, the Consolata Missions Semi-nary in Buffalo, New York, the Ayles~ord Retreat Center in Chicago, and remodeling of churches in southern Mary-land. For the Government, among other projects, she modified a hangar at Andrews Air Force Base. There is another facet to Melita's background. Dur-ing the 1940's she worked for four years in the Harlem Friendship House, engaged in interracial work, apolo-getics, and the practice of the spiritual and corporal works of mercy. During this time she had rich experi-ences. She undertook a formal course in philosophy un-der Jacques Maritain. She learned the principles of social justice from the best of its exponents, Father John La- Farge, S.J., Baroness Catherine de Hueck Doherty, the Sheeds, and others. During these years, she developed a great love for liturgical music through the influence of other wonderful visitors to Friendship House, one of whom was Professor Dietrich von Hildebrand. More and more, as years went by, Melita!s ability in. architecture and her various artistic talents became an integrated venture. And the motivating force in her life was her religion. Her love of designing, composing, creat-ing, on the one hand, and her love of God and her fellow-man on the other were beginning to congeal into one idea. + + + Restoration VOLUME 21, 1962 99 ÷ ÷ Katie Rock REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS I00 In 1956, Melita took several months off from work to take a trip around the world, studying and observing the architecture of many lands and plans of other countries to meet the changes of modern life. Her first stop was Australia where she visited her brother, an engineer there. Then she visited the Philippines, Thailand, and India, observing certain unique and desirable aspects of Far Eastern architecture. From India she proceeded to the Holy Land, and this part of her journey provided a re-treat, as she put the world out of mind and became ab-sorbed in the life of our Lord. Her travels continued in Turkey, on to Italy where she lingered in Rome, then to Spain and France. In Germany she studied problems in-volved in regional planning for mining. Because of a serious interest in necessity for inter-diocesan planning, Melita was deeply interested in the episcopal planning bureau in Belgium, by which city churches and rural churches and schools are planned according to needs of city, suburban, or rural life. Here in Belgium, Melita observed the tremendous effect of "Young Christian Workers" in Catholic activity. The last stop was England, then home to sift and appraise the ideas and inspiration from her round-the-world journey. In 1958, Melita began her own firm, specializing in providing for her clients complete architectural, engi-neering, and planning service combined with interior decorating. The firm has the services of excellent consul-tants in engineering and financing. When the firm was first Organized, .Melita and Bernice lived and worked in the Potomac Plaza Apartments. One day a For Sale sign went up on a deserted, dilapidated dwelling across the street from the apartment. Curiosity and vision sent Me-lita on an inspection tour. The unusual lines and the lovely view of the Potomac from the third floor tower captured Melita's heart. And the creaky stairs, plaster-bare walls and cobwebs provided a challenge to Melita's pro-fessional ability. The house today seems to say it was joy as well as work that restored it to its immense liveability and unusual beauty. So much for Melita, the architect, for she is more than an artist and an architect. Melita has vision and percep-tion and appreciation for beauty not touched by human hands. Designing is not only a business with her but a God-given talent in which she expresses the love of God in her soul. Creative art, Melita told me, is the remedy man needs in this age of technology, assembly lines, and automation. These things, cold and impersonal, produce ragged nerves and tensions and strike at man's very soul, leaving him unmindful of the purpose for which his Crea-tor put him on earth. Into all forms of art--painting, poetry, music, and so forth---goes one's own personality, reflecting a personal relationship with the Heavenly Father. The closer to God man is, ~the truer his work, and the more he will choose a good and proper use of ma-terials. In the arts a man may find peace and contentment for he may use his.creativ.e ability' to transform his inner energy in a satisfying manner,~, ~, Happily, Melita sees her obligation to use her creative ability to promote a Christian society, a Christian com-munity life. Melita is taking the giant step of using her profession solely for the glory of God and for love of her neighbor with no profit except the profit of peace in her own heart. Others have done this; for example, Dr. Albert Schweitzer and Dr. Tom Dooley and Geo.rge Washington Carver. Her heart and will having been entrusted to God some time ago, Melita began sifting ideas about putting her philosophy into practice. Then ideas had to be translated into blueprints, and these blueprints needed and received approval from her auxiliary Bishop, Most Reverend Philip M. Hannan, chancellor of the archdiocese. Then came discussions with many wise and prudent friends: spiritual directors, teachers, fellow artists, other archi-tects, and even mothers of children who are awakening to the needs of our frustrated society. Far from relying solely on her own ideas, Melita sought and listened to ~he counsel of all. The result was a plan to begin a secular institute of the design professions to be called Regina Institute. A secular institute is an association of lay people living in the world but bound by the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, performing duties suitable for their talents for the love of God. Though popular and plentiful in Europe, secular institutes are just emerging in our coun-try. Their specific purposes vary widely. In Madonna House, for instance, workers live among the poor, teach-ing crafts and catechism, nursing the sick and feeding the hungry. In the Company of St. 'Paul, members teach, work in the Government, and so forth. This is a quiet life~ there is nothing in their dress to indicate they are an organization dedicated to Christ. Members simply strive to live as "Christs" among those needy in goods or in spirit. Regina Institute is taking another direction. First of all, Melita is concerned with the arts in the service of the Church's liturgy. She would like to assist in setting stand-ards for the quality of sacred art just as Benedictines have set a standard for sacred music. Second, she is endeavor-ing to bring the Incarnation into society by bringing Christian attitudes into the building professions and in-dustry and into city planning. The Christian philosophy of man and the social teachings of the Church are being Restoration VOLUME 21, 1962 ]0! Katie Ro~k REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 102 applied, thus supporting such contemporary projects as open occupancy, adequate housing, and so forth. Third, Melita and associates try to teach all of us the visual arts and their spiritual and cultural values. My visit showed me a great deal about the practice of these ideals and the life of this infant group. Melita and Bernice filled in a picture of a day in Regina House, tak-ing me on a tour of the house as they talked about their Rule. Recently Gwen moved in with Melita and Bernice. For the present they are living according to the Rule of the Third Order of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Melita has served as novice mistress of the St. Therese Chapter in Washington for eleven years. The Rule seeks to instill in its followers the spirit of constant prayer and love. Early each morning the group leaves for St. Stephen's Church nearby for a halfihour.of.meditation before 7:30 Mass. Breakfast follows, then they recite in ~ommon Prime, Terce and Sext from the Little 01~ce. (On.nice days they do so on the patio which they call their "clois-ter.") At 9:00 work begins. Lunch is at 12:30, followed by None and Vespers, then free time. At 2:00 they go back to work until dinner. At 7:30 comes Compline, Matins, and Lauds, and after that there is recreation-- long walks in nice weather, singing or reading at other times. One day of each.month is spent in retreat. There are three floors in l~egina House. The first con-tains the dining area and kitchen opening onto the patio, Bernice's office, and a music area. Melita plays the piano, and there is also a stereo arid many fine records, including Gregorian chant and classical music. On the second floor, we entered a work and study spa.ce. I was fascinated with the dozens of books and their range of subjects, from the culture of the Far East to the philosophy of Frank Lloyd Wright. There are books in German and French and Spanish, books on philosophy, Catholic Action, and the liturgy, books on ancient architecture and books on mod-ern design. Attractive chairs and a lovely view are invit-ing. Melita's bedroom, also on this floor, shows all her separate interests united in her one endeavor. There are beautiful religious objects, side by side with a drawing board (she is currently working on a dental laboratory) and there were several sketches in process, both water colors and oils. On the third floor are more drawing boards. This floor also serves as a workshop for other projects. Bernice finds time to make beautiful cards by a linoleum process fea-turing Melita's impressionistic designs. Bernice has a talent for dress designing and sewing; also she does lovely ceramic tile work. I noticed several clay models of build-ings as well as wooden models; Melita explained these help her visualize her ideas. Certainly the first purpose'of this institute is sanctifi-cation of its members. Theystrive for a four-fold contact with Christ: Christ the Life, through prayer.and the sacra-ments; Christ the Truth, through study and meditation; Christ the Way, through i~bedience; and Christ the Worker, through creative human effort for love of God. Melita invites young people inclined towards the design arts, who would like to dedicate their service to God, to talk to her. Regina House is large enough to house several women. If men apply, perhaps a home close by will be found for them, while work and prayer will be centered in Regina House. The necessity for meals and housekeep-ing means the Institute must attract also "artists" of the kitchen and "masters" of the broom. In fact, Melita is ready to consider anyone who is willing to share her ideals and approach, and invites those interested to con-tact her at 801 25th St. N.W., Washington 7, D.C. So sold was I by my visit that I was ready to apply-- but Melita just won't take a mother of eight growing children. Reluctantly I said "good-bye" and went out the big black door and the lacy iron gate. I looked back with new appreciation at Regina House which today so sur-passes in beauty and liveability its original design. From the ordinary it has become majestic. I left, believing that Melita's plan for it also far surpasses the ordinary Chris-tian way of living and that its tower truly points to Heaven and its eternal history is just beginning. ÷ ÷ ÷ Restoration VOLUME 21, 1962 103 WALTER DE BONT, O.P. Identity Crisis and the Male Novice Walter de Bont, O.P., is a member of the faculty o! the Catholic University in Nijmegen, Hol-land. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 104 Beginners' Failings Father Lacordaire,1 the day after his entry into the novitiate, confided to the master of novices: "Father, I can't stay here; these young men are childish and quite silly. They think everything is funny," "It would be a shame," the priest answered, "if the former preacher of Notre Dame of Paris should, by a hasty departure, give the world the impression that his entrance into religion had not been thoroughly consid-ered. Wait a while, then." Three weeks later the master of novices asked him, "When are you leaving?" "But I do not wish to go, so long as you are willing to keep me." "But what of your young companions who are so silly?" "Father," said Lacordaire, a little embarrassed, "I am the silliest of them all." In all the novitiates of the world since the beginning of monasticism there h~tve been young men, and some not so young, who were "a little silly." No matter how more or less normal they were a few weeks.previously, before they had left "the world," here they become affected by a whole series of strange phenomena which spiritual authors call "beginners' failings" (see especially St. John of the Cross, Dark Night, 1, 1-7). Using the material furnished by the experiment described below, the following section will give a rapid and pseudonymous portrait of certain "types" who betray the curious behavior encountered among be-ginners. *This article is translated with permission from the original article, "La crise d'identit~ du novice," which appeared in Suppld-ment de la Vie Spirituelle, 1961, pp. 295-325. The translation is by the Reverend John E. Becket, S.J. Passing Vagaries Brother Clement suddenly develops a phobia for drafts; underground currents beneath his bed keep him from sleeping; he wonders whether the spinach from the garden has enough iron to supply his needs; the light bulb on his work table endangers his eyes; and so on. No one has de-scribed more humorously than St. Teresa of Avila this kind of hypochondriac novice who seems "to have entered the cloister solely to labor at staving off death." She her-self, for that matter, knew this temptation of seeking "not to lose one's repose here below and still to enjoy God in heaven." John is a real gourmet--in search of spiritual delicacies. All his efforts are aimed at getting the satisfaction of a very sensible devotion from' prayer; In his :better moments he feels inundated with grace and spends hours in the chapel. When consolation no longer comes to him, he is desolate and lamentsin the blackest sorrow. At such times he passes the time of meditation breaking in books. Guy fears to embark on the road to perfection, excusing himself as one who was not meant to accomplish great things. He even thanks God for not making him too in-telligent. Comparing himseff with others, he has already lost all courage. Some suffer from quite peculiar sexual problems. At the very moment of prayer, confession, or communion, sexual feelings and reactions surge up. Cassian has already spoken of a brother "who enjoyed constant purity of heart and body, having merited it by reason of his circumspection and humility, and who was never afflicted with nocturnal emissions. But whenever he prepared for communion, he was sullied by an impure flow in his sleep. For a long time fear kept him from participating in the sacred mys-teries" (ConIerences, 22, 6). And then there are the pilgrims of ,the absolute with pure and perfect ideals. They are so punctual in their ex-ercises that you can set your watch by them; but they easily forget that the rule is merely a means to love God and their neighbor better. Burning with enthusiasm, they seem to have sanctity within their grasp. Lacking patience, they try to force the ascent toward God with Draconian measures. The novitiate is the decisive year in which holi-ness must be achieved. For them profession is a final set-tlement and not a decisive beginning. Or else there are the grim ascetics. In his enthusiasm for purity, Henry Suso did not scratch, nor even touch, any part of his body. Throughout the day he abstained from all drink. In the evening at the sprinkling with holy water, he opened his dry lips and gaped toward the 'sprinkler, hoping that a tiny drop of water would fall on his arid 4. + + Identity Crisis VOLUME 21, 1962 ]05 4. W. de Bont, OJL REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 106 tongue. At the age of forty, luckily, when "his whole na-ture was so devastated that nothing was left for him but to die or leave off his austerities," he opted for life and threw his whole arsenal of instruments of penance into the lake. For most of these novitiate "follies" are only temporary. Sooner or later good sense reasserts its rights, and the spiritual life of the subject becomes more balanced. St. Teresa had already clearly sensed that this bizarre conduct of the novice-beginner was somewhat forced and not genuine: Anything which gets the better of us to such an extent that we think our reason is not free must be considered suspicious, for in that way we shall never gain freedom of spirit, one of the marks of which is that we can find God in all things even while we are thinking of them. Anything other than this is spiritual bondage, and, apart from the harm which it does to the body, it constrains the soul and retards its growth (Book of the Foun-dations, Chapter 6, from The Complete Works ot Saint Teresa oI Jesus, translated and edited by E. Allison Peers, Volume III, p. 32 [London and New York: Sheed and Ward, 1946]). If "our reason is not [completely] free," then we are not fully on the plane of moral defects, but partially on that of psychic determinisms. And it is precisely the psychic aspect of these, phenomena that we propose to study in this article which has no other aim than to throw some light by the help of modern depth psychology on this strange being whom the masters of the spiritual life have been ob-serving for centuries, the beginner par excellence, the novice, and on his imperfections. The perspective of this article must, then, be clearly emphasized. This is not a work of spiritual theology. The theologian contemplates the events of the novitiate with the eyes of faith; he sees there the hand of God and the conflict between grace and sin. The perspective of this article is much more modest; it is, to put it simply, psychological. Without in any way denying the workings of grace, we shall systematically ab-stract from them; for the designs of God and the ways of grace are not apprehended by the purely human ways of kno~ving which alone are at the disposal of the psychol-ogist. While leaving aside the supernatural aspect of the growth of the novice, we are bound to point out that this aspect tias been amply clarified by the masters of spiritual theology from Cassian and St. Benedict to St. John of the Cross and contemporary authors. Working Hypothesis and Methodology To initiate the psychological study of the novice and of his "imperfections," we took as "subjects" twenty-eight male novices belonging to two quite different communi-ties. We asked for volunteers only, but in each novitiate everyone volunteered. The age of our subjects varied from eighteen to twenty-two years. The level of their previous instruction was for the most part uniform, and they were about equally divided between those, from rural and those from urban backgrounds. The experiment was made dur-ing the fourth month of the/novitiate. i~ A double series of tools was used, since our aim was to clarify certain problems of the spiritual life. of the sub-jects by a study of their personality in the course of evolu-tion. a) For the study of personality, projection tests were used, especially the Rorschach and the Thematic Apper-ception Test (T.A.T.), since these two tests are universally recognized as highly useful for this purpose. The admin-istration of the Rorschach was preceded by the drawing of a human figure, so that the subject might implicitly per-ceive that a creative effort was expected of him. b) For the study of their spiritual life, the novices were asked to write a four-page essay entitled "The Ideal and the Difficulties of My Spiritual Life." c) To complete our information from the character-ological as well as the spiritual side, we conducted inter-views of about an hour with each subject, his master of novices, and the assistant to the master of novices. It was striking, especially in going over the Rorschach protocols, to see the number of signs of anxiety, of ten-sion, and of disintegration. Equally striking, however, were the efforts at synthesis. Given the age. and the situa-tion of our subjects, this called to mind the psychological situation described by Erik Erikson under the name of "identity crisis" (see Erik Erikson, "The Problem of Ego Identity" in Identity and the Lqe Cycle, volume one of "Psychological Issues" [New York: International Univer-sities Press, 1959]). As a matter of fact, the novice is a young adult, around eighteen to twenty years of age. As others become doctors, engineers, and fathers of families, he, at the end of his adolescence, chose in a more or less definitive way the role he wanted to play in adult society: that of religious or priest. This role is the result and syn-thesis of his entire previous development. In this connec-tion, Erikson uses the word "identity" because in this role the young man ought to be able to accomplish the best he is capable of while at the same time promoting the aims of society. The novitiate is his first serious testing of this role; he is vested in the religious habit and he follows the rules of his community as they are adapted for re-cruits. What does this identity of pries.t-religious become in the novitiate? Is the young man able to realize it here in the way in which he dreamed of doing? Does the com-munity he has chosen respect this identity? If these ques-tions receive a more or less negative answer, .a crisis oc- VOLUME 21, 1962 curs, an identity crisis because it is the novice's identity that is brought into question. As with every crisis it is manifested by certain symptoms; and one may assume that the imperfections of beginners are precisely the signs of this crisis on the religious plane. Our hypothesis then is this: The novitiate induces in the young religious a crisis about his identity, about the role he wishes to play in life, a role which is the end prod-uct of all his previous development; this crisis comes from the fact that this role is threatened by the novitiate; and the imperfections of beginners are the symptoms of this crisis. In order to understand this hypothesis better, a more ample presentation must be made of Erikson's notion of identity. This will be done in several of the following sec~ tions. ÷ ÷ ÷ W. de Bwnt, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 108 Identity, Synthesis of the Personality During adolescence all the impulses of earlier life re-appear accompanied by a strong genital drive. It is the characteristic work of the male adolescent to subordinate this chaos of impulses under genitality and find them their proper object, a girl. But this adjustment of one's infan-tile heritage to one's new acquisitions does not confine itself solely to the level of impulsive life; it equally con-cerns the other functions of the personality, the ego and the superego and their identifications. For the young man. must subordinate his previous identifications to a new kind of identification, an ultimate identity learned in so-cial contacts and competitive apprenticeship with his equals. These new identifications no longer have the ca-priciousness of infancy or the experimental fervor o youth; with extreme urgency they impel the young indio. vidual toward choices and decisions which progressively conduct him to a final definition of himself, to an irrev-ocable configuration of rol~s, and then to lifelong com-mitments. The normal adolescent performs this reintegration him. self, using spontaneously chosen adults and older adbles-cents as his models. But the age at which this synthesis is completed varies considerably. The more complicated a civilization is, the longer it takes its members to integrate their personality and find their place in society. At the bee ginning of our era people were married at Sixteen, a thing that rarely happens today. Suso entered the novitiate ar thirteen, whereas nowadays even canon law considers thi.~ too early. Moreover it would seem that workers or farm people come to adulthood before members of the profes. sional classes who have more to integrate and spend a longer time in training. Finally, the presence of acute conflicts can make this integration even more difficult and slow. At the worst, they may even render such integration impossible and the subject becomes neurotic or psychotic. Identity, a Psychosocial Reality This ultimate identity of which we have been speaking is unique for each individual because no two ,develop in identically the same way. '~Id~e'~,er, it is fa~'~O~ being individualistic. A person becomes himself only in a given society and in order to live in that society according to that identity. Ideally, identity implies that one is most oneself when one is most in relation with others and that our personal values and ideals coincide for the most part with those of the environment which is accepted by the person and in which he feels himself accepted. It is of ex-treme importance for the formation of the identity of the young man that society respond to him and that he receive a function and a status which integrates him into the community. In order to take his place in society the young man must acquire the skillful use of his principal ability and fulfill it in some activity. He should enjoy the exercise of this activity, .the companionship which it furnishes, and its traditions. Finally he must receive a setof teachings which allow him to see the meaning of life: religion, philosophy, or some ideology. Speaking psychosocially, the'h, identity is the role, integrated into the character, which the indi-vidual wishes to play in society and for which he expects the approbation of society in order to give meaning to his life. After the psychosexual delay of the period of latency there must, in consequence, be another delay, adolescence, so that the already sexually adult young man may, by freely experiencing different roles, find himself a place in some section of society, a place which in its definiteness seems made uniquely for him. The Genesis o[ Identity Identity must not be confused with identification. The simple addition of infantile identifications (the child act-ing like his parents, his brothers, his uncles, his teachers, his friends.) never results in a functioning personality. These identifications are too disparate and too contra-dictory; they are, moreover, often far from being socially acceptable or realistic, since the child's imagination dis-torts the image of his. parents or other models to suit his own needs. The final identity which emerges in the course of adolescence and which at the end of its development is largely fixed, is rather a new configuration which includes all previous usable identifications while transcending them all. They are transformed to make a whole which is unique and reasonably coherent. This new configuration ought to be achieved in such a way that in it the physical 4. VOLUME 21, 1962 ]~9 ÷ ÷ W. d~ Bont, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS constitution of the young man, his affective needs, his best liked capacities, his effective defense mechanisms, and his successful sublimations find their rightful use. The formation of personal identity, then, has its roots in the most distant past of the individual, a past often lost in the clouds of the unconscious. It begins with the first introjections and projections of the baby whose relative integration depends on a mutually satisfying relationship between the child and his mother. For it is she who must give him that basic trust in himself and in others which is at the foundation of any process of becoming social. Then follow the different identifications of childhood which will be the more successful according as.their proto-types show themselves to be both loving and firm. The last step of the formation of the ultimate identity begins when the usefulness of identifications is over. It consists of the repudiation of some infantile identifications and an absorptive assimilation of others of them into a new configuration, which in its turn depends on the proc-ess by which a society (or the subgroups of a society) "identify" the young man by recognizing him as someone who ought to have turned out as he did and who is ac-cepted as he is. Society in its turn feels "recognized" by the individual who demands to be accepted, or profoundly and aggressively rejected by the individual who seems un-interested in any social integration. Identity manifests itself, then, in the role which the young man is going to play in society. Identity Crisis When the young man, emerging from.adolescence with his newly acquired identity, does not find in society the place he needs in order to continue to be what he has been and to develop still more, he runs the risk of a crisis. His ambitions may be too vast, society too different from his ideal; certain aspects of his identity may be poorly de-veloped in relation to what is demanded by the customs of his milieu from the viewpoint of sex, occupation, or in the area of academic or athletic competition. This constitutes a failure, at least a partial and provisional one. The at-tempt to enter into a relationship with society will piti-lessly reveal any weakness up to now latent in his identity. There results a state of confusion with the following symp-toms: a feeling of isolation, a breakdown of the feeling of personal continuity, shame, inability to enjoy any ac-tivity, a sense of enduring life rather than of actively living it, a distorted perspective of time, and finally, an extreme mistrust of others as if society were in opposition to what the subject wants to be. But no matter how many neurotic or psychotic symp-toms may be discovered, an identity crisis is not a sickness. Rather, it is a normal crisis, that is, a normal phase of sharp conflict characterized by an apparent wavering in the strength of the ego, but also by great possibilities for growth. Neurotic and psychotic crises are characterized by a tendency to perpetuate themselves because o~ a loss of defensive energy and ~i deep social isolation.~ A'grOWth crisis, on the contrary, is relatively more easy to overcome and is characterized by an abundance of utilizab!e energy. This energy, doubtless, causes the reawakening of dormant anxieties and engenders new conflicts; but it supports the ego in the functions it has newly acqtiired or developed during the search for new opportunities or for, new rela-tions which society is more than ever ready to offer. What appeared as the .onset of a neurosis is often only a quite acute crisis which dissipates itself and helps more than it harms the formation of the subject's identity. Some cases, however, reach a less fortunate outcome: derangement, suicide, or a confirmed case of nerves. We have already briefly mentioned the characteristic symptoms of the identity crisis, now it will be worthwhile to give a more ample description of them by contrasting them with the dimensions of an ultimate identity success-fully achieved. The Dimensions of Identity and Its Crisis At each stage of man's psychosocial, development cer-tain criteria allow us to see whether the individual has passed through this phase successfully or whether he has failed. So it is with the baby's crisis of trust (in the oral stage of development); with the crisis of autonomy at the age of two (during the anal phase); with the crisis of in-itiative around the age of five years (the age of the Oedipus complex); with the assimilation of work during the time of schooling; the crises brought about by marriage and the birth of children; and the problems posed by maturity and old age. What interests us here are the criteria which let us evaluate the identity crisis in the passage from puberty to adulthood. Erikson gives eight criteria which show whether the young man has succeeded in building up for himself in accordance with his possibilities an ultimate identity which is both balanced and accepted by his environment, or whether he remains at grips with an outgrown identity which is deficient and replete with conflicts. As has just been said, each growth crisis reawakens sleeping anxieties, the relics of old battles in former crises which were buried but not done away with. In the identity crisis certain con-flicts of preceding stages of psychosocial development are reawakened. This reawakening evidently does not bring these conflicts forward under the shape which they had when the subject was still a baby or a small child, but in a Identity Crisis VOLUME 21, 1962 ÷ ÷ W. d~ Bont, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS way that is colored by his current development. The first four dimensions of the identity crisis mentioned by Erik. son are reawakenings of former crises which, as we have mentioned, have to do with trust in o~hers and in oneself, personal autonomy from others, the ability to take the ini.~ tiatives by which one becomes "someone," and the ability to do one's work well. But the young man is not formed by his past alone; he is also stretching towards the future; The last three dimensions of the identity crisis are then foretastes of the problems which he will have to resolve later on in his life when he marries, when he becomes a fafher, or when he .reckons up the balance of his whoh: life. ¯ Here then are the eight criteria or dimensions of the identity crisis: a) Presence. or absence of a perspective in life. The young man in the grips of an identity crisis manifests a confused attitude toward time which may be more or less grave according to the case. He sees no prospects for him-self in life. Since his identity is not well defined and he is fully confused with regard to his place in society, his con-fidence in the future is completely overturned. He is in despair, even if this shows up as a headlong precipitancy with which he tries to reach his goal, like the student who, for an elementary examination in biology, studies only the most advanced articles. This is a derivative revival of the impatience found in the child who has not yet realized that all human activity realizes itself only gradually in obedience to the progressive nature of time rather than all at once as if by magic. When the young man resolves his crisis and begins 'to become himself, when he synthesizes the different aspects of his character and finds his place in society, this co:a-fused attitude toward the temporal element of his life is changed into a rich diversity of prospects; at the same time he becomes open to the temporal dimension as indispen-sable for every building up of his personality. Moreover, through the temporal dimension of the ideology which it offers him, society can help the young man to rediscover the feeling that his past and his future have a meaning. Most religions, philosophies, or political doctrines teach that there is a meaning and a direction to life. Even though such an ideology may not be altogether realistic and may represent a certain simplification of the order of things, still, in such a situation its pedagogical usefulness is real. b) Self-certainty or self-consciousness. The young man going through an identity crisis is characterized next by insecurity, by a doubting of himself accompanied by shame at what he is or has been. What reappear are the social characteristics of the anal stage. Once he has regained at a higher level the balance which he had achieved before, the new sense of his own meaning gives him the necessary assurance to face life and to assume his chosen role in society. Here again, in the recovery of assurance, social surroundings can be a powerful aid by the uniformity of conduct, arid ,sometimes of~:clbthing, which they impose, often without even demanding them by an explicit code. With the help of this uniformity, the young man, though in a state of confusion, may tempo-rarily hide his shame and his doubts until his identity is sufficiently reestablished. c) Free experimentation with roles or its absence. The healthy young man's entrance into adult society is char-acterized by the provisional adoption of a great variety of roles and initiatives, each of which is tested by a process of trial and error in order to .decide which is better for him so that he may make a final choice which will determine the principal content of his adult life. This is a prolonga-tion of the child play of the Oedipal age in which the child sought to overcome anxiety by his identifications; the child of four who plays at driving a bus attains, in this way, at least in his imagination, equality with the adults he fears, especially his parents (the castration complex of classical psychoanalysis). But in certain cases, especially if adoles-cence is unduly prolonged, the opposite of this free ex-pe. rimentation with roles is found. To characterize this other extreme, Erikson speaks of negative identity, that is, "an identity perversely based on all those identifications and roles which, at critical stages of development, had been presented to the individual as most undesirable or dangerous, and yet also as most real" ("The Problem of Ego Identity," op. cit., p. 131). The 'young man whose mother is always saying, "If you act that wa~ you will turn out like your uncle [a drunkard]" can end up precisely that; he identifies himself with what is forbidden because it is more real for him than the positive ideal which' his mother never spoke of with such eloquence. According to some recent research (that of Adelaide Johnson and her staff) juvenile delinquency (in the area of aggressivity)and perversion (in the sexual area) are frequently the result of such largely negative education. But there are still other ways to renounce a free experimentation with roles; for example, the renouncement of personal identity in an ex-treme conformism which tries to root out everything which goes against even the excessive demands of the en-vironment. Here again the different segments of society offer the young man initiations or confirmations which are apt to encourage the spirit o[ initiative while channeling it and allaying the reawakening of Oedipal guilt. "They strive, within an atmosphere of mythical timelessness, to com- . 4- 4- 4- VOLUME 21, 1962 113 ÷ ÷ ÷ W. ~e Bo~t, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS bine some. form of sacrifice or submission with an energetic guidance toward sanctioned and circumscribed ways of action--a combination which assures the development in the novice of an optimum of compliance with a maximum sense of fellowship and free choice" ("The Problem of Ego Identity," op. cit., p. 144). d) Anticipation of achievement or work paralysis. The next characteristic of the adolescent who is initiating him-self into society is the anticipation of success. He feels able to accomplish something, to fulfill his function in the. community in such a way that the other members will re-pay him by their esteem. This is a prolongation of the ap-plication to school work during the period of latency. When things go poorly, the subject, instead of feeling him-self able to assume his role, is paralysed in the work he is doing either because his ambitions are too vast or because his environment has no place for his special capacities or does not give him the recognition he hopes for. Or he risks everything to gain everything and throws himself." prematurely into an intellectual or social activity which is extravagant and rigid and which may in the end com. pletely destroy his personal happiness, if not his physical existence: At the root of ~ill these forms of work pathology we find, according to Erikson, a reawakening of Oedipal competition and of the rivalry with his brothers or sisters. The different segments of society help those who are the process of learning and of trying out their social role by offering them .a certain provisional status, that of ap-prentice or student--with all that these imply of duties, competition, freedom, and also of potential integration into the hierarchy of jobs and of classes, as in associations for young adults (for example, political parties have their sections for youth which act ~s an initiation into adult life). e) Identity or confusion. The most general character-istic of the young man who has not yet achieved interior and social balance is confusion. This is the global result of all the imbalances set up by the reawakening of old conflicts and of all the confused attitudes which come from the fact that the ~oung man is still unable to take his place in the community of adults. A multiplicity of contradic-tory roles results. Two souls come to exist in one body, as the hermit and the power mad man did in Francisco Jimfinez de Cisneros (Le Cardinal d'Espagne), or ~2z~chiely and Tenebroso-Cavernoso in Father Joseph, the grey emi-nence, "combining in his own person the oddly assorted characters of Metternich and Savonarola" (Aldous Huxley, Grey Eminence [New York and London: Harper, 1941], p. 128). Nevertheless, when the conflict has been crystal-lized, that is, become irreversible, we no longer speak of an identity crisis or of confusion, but of neurosis (sympto- matic or characterological) and of psychosis in which the 'T' has become someone else in the complete collapse of the sense of oneself, as in the case of the novice who, having divested himself in choir, appeared on the altar before the community piously assembled for a ho.ly hour and said, "I am the Immaculate C6nceptiofi."'~ The opposite of this confusion, which emerges in a more or less definitive way at the end of a successful ado-lescente, is identity. It is the feeling of having integrated into one's person all the valuable elements of one's child-hood heritage in order to give oneself with all one's forces .to love, to work, and to the social commitments, of adult life. We need not develop this sinc~ it has already been treated in previous sections of this article. f) Sexual identity or bisexual.conIusion. We come now to the ch~aracteristics of the identity crisis which are not derived from old, preadolescent' conflicts reawakened by physical maturation, but which are rather the precursors of conflicts which will find their climax and their.resolu-tion later in the ages of preadulthood, adulthood, or ma-turity, The proper task of the preadult period is intimacy, es-pecially sexual intimacy, with a partner. According to Erikson the "utopia of genitality" ought to include: mu-tual orgasm with a loved partner of the opposite sex with whom one is willing and able to share mutual responsibil-ity and with whom one is willing and able to adjust the cycles of work, procreation, and recreation in such a way as to assure their offspring a similar satisfactory develop-ment. As for the celibate, "a human being should be po-tentially able to accomplish mutuality of genital orgasm, but he should also be so constituted as to bear frustration in the matter without undue regression wherever consider-ations of reality and loyalty call for it" (Erik Erikson, Childhood and Society [New York: Norton, 1950], p. 230). Whoever fails at this stage becomes an isolated personality. In the identity crisis the precursors of these extremes are seen. The one who will later succeed in entering into a true intimacy with another is the one who succeeds in integrating into his personality the true characteristics of his sex, who sees himself both consciously and uncon-sciously as pertaining to his sex, and not more or less to the other sex. In those periods when the personality is less structured, and especially in irreversible pathological cases, there is a clear incapacity to assume the role proper to one's sex, a confusion of masculine and feminine traits which exceeds the relative confusion which' is normal at the beginning of adolescence. Intimacy presupposes, therefore, a sense of one's iden-tity, a capacity to be oneself on the sexual level as on other levels: "The condition of a true twoness is that one must ÷ ÷ VOLUME 21, 1962 115' 4. 4. 4. W. de Bont, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS first become onself" (Erik Erikson, "Growth and Crises of ~he 'Healthy Personality' " in Personality in Nature, So-ciety, and Cultizre, C. Kluckhohn and H. Murray, eds. [New York: Knopf, 1956], p. 222). Anyone who has .not achieved his own identity can not have intimate relations with another. He will take refuge in a sterile isolation for fear of losing himself completely; or else he will turn him-self over to another body and soul borrowing the identity of the other to fill up his own void, in this way vainly seeking to resolve an identification which was not success- [ul in childhood. Different societies have very different means of helping through these difficulties the young man who is already physiologically, though not socially, adult: by demanding complete sexual continence; or by permitting sexual ac-tivities which do not lead to definitive social engagements; or by stimulating sexual play without intercourse (pet-ting). The purpose of this prop is to stimulate and to strengthen the ego and its identity. g) Authority: orientation or conIusion. The adulthood of a truly healthy man ought to be characterized by pro-. creativeness; this means assuming responsibility for' the. next generation by parenthood or by other forms of al-truism and creativity. A failure along this line means that' one is absorbed in his own problems instead of placing his energy at the service of others. This is a victory for narcissism: "Individuals who do not develop generativity often begin to indulge themselves as if they were their own one and only child" (Erikson, "Growth and Crisis of the 'H~althy Personality,' " op. cir., p. 223). What forecasts this approaching procreativeness in the young man is the ability to be either a leader or a follower according to circumstances. The attitude of the subject {n everything that conc(rns authority (exercising it or obey., ing it) is realistic. Any future failure of procreativity be-trays itself in the inability to lead or to follow when one of these two relationships is required. It is especially in sub-groups of his.companionsthat society gives the adolescent the opportunity to try out this strength in the area of aw thority. h) Ideological orientation or conIusion o] ideals. When he has arrived at maturity, the normal man has the sense of having completed his task as far as possible. He accepts responsibility for what he has made of his life and of his personal abilities. Having helped others to become them-selves, he can now pass on this responsibility to the next generation and withdraw from the scene. The man, on the contrary, who has not realized his potentialities for the service of others will experience despair and disgust with himself. He would like to begin his life over but realises that it is too late. His life is a failure whether he admits it to himself or hides it by projecting the blame onto others. This was the case with Father Joseph, that "grey emi-nence" whose double identity was mentioned above. At the end of his life, he felt the bitterness and frustration of a man who has seen God, but who, through his own fault, has lost Him in the attempt t6i'ser~ two mastersJ~loser to us, we have the story of, Sister Luke' and of all those who leave their communities around the age of forty. These two possible attitudes which can emerge at the crisis of maturity are foreshadowed with the'young man by an ideological orientation, "a choice among many val-ues of those which demand our allegiance"; or on the con-trary, by a chaos of ideals without connection or sy.nthe-sis. Society helps the young man here by proposing a variety of ideologies each of which may be useful to him in proportion to its internal consistency. The above paragraphs are a brief presentation of the eight criteria which, according to Erikson, show whether and how the young man succeeds in constructing an iden-tity of his own. If in one or other of the eight areas listed he does not succeed in extricating himself from the confu-sion engendered by this indispensable maturation of his personal identity, he risks becoming the victim of a more or less profound psychic derangement, which may assume the shape of one of the classical forms so thoroughly stud-ied by clinical psychology: symptomatic neurosis, charac-ter neurosis, delinquency, psychosis, and so on. In spite of the interest there might be in studying these personality troubles as functions of the eight dimensions enunciated by Erikson, it is more to our purpose to apply the light of what has been said about the identity crisis of the young man to a study of the problem of the novice, of his quest for identity, and of the crises which this quest may involve. Identity Crisis in the Novitiate The young man who arrives at the door of the novitiate already possesses a certain identity which is more or less well-founded. It shows itself in the choice he has made: to become a celibate instead of marrying; instead of becom-ing a doctor, engineer, or grocer, he aspires to a function in the Church. Moreover, he has chosen this particular community rather than some other. All these factors (cel-ibacy, priesthood, community) are so many aspects of the role which he wishes to play in life. Vaguely he sees him-self in the future as such and such a person, with a more or less specific function, whether it be that of preacher, pro-fessor, pastor, or diplomat attached to a nunciature. This role is the end product of the candidate's total past life, the synthesis of his previous psychic development, But after four months of ttie novitiate (the stage at which the novices who were the subject of our experiment had arrived), the ÷ ÷ ÷ Identity Crisis VOLUME 21, 1962 W. d~ Bont~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS great majority o[ novices are plunged into a more or less pronounced Crisis o[ identity. Signs oI the Crisis In the tests a considerable number of confusion symp-toms were.found, many more than in a group of students of the same age and background who were beginning their studies at a university. We cannot enter here into the more minute d~tails of these symptoms because of their too tech-nical nature; nevertheless, the following should at least be mentioned: a) The universal presence of a considerable anxiety. Anxiety is always an experience of the disintegration of the sell when old conflicts renew their attack. b) Equally striking was the great number of poor in-terpretations in the Rorschach, although they ought not to appear in a normal protocol. Even by using the Ameri-can scoring system of.Klopfer who tends to diminish their number, twenty-two out of twenty-eight novices gave them. This indicates a certain loss of contact with reality which is experienced as too hard, a retreat into phantasy which accompanies the identity crisis. c) Almost all the novices suffered from bisexual con-fusion with a reemergence of feminine traits. This was not manifested in overt sexual responses (except in two cases),, for the novitiate for the most part suppresses overt manifestations of sexuality. But it was visible, for example, in the defective sexual identifications given to the human figures on the Rorschach.cards and those of the T.A.T. (sixteen novices out of twenty-eight). d) Besides, seventeen out of twenty-eight subjects had a deficient image of their own body, according to their drawing of a human figure. This should not be surprising, for the image (more or less unconscious) we have of our own body is a visualisation of our identity. It is very sen-sitive to the influences of the environment; for example, to the interpretative power of clothing. The substitution of the religious garb, a skirt, for lay dress (masculine) has, from this point of view, a profound effect on one's sense of one's identity. "We identify ourselves with others by means of clothes. We become like them. By imitating their clothes we change our postural image of the body by taking over the postural image of others. Clothes can thu:; become a means of changing our body-image completely" (Paul Schilder, The Image and Appearance ol the Human Body [New York: International Universities Press, 1950], p. 204). The great number of deficient images of the body means that our subjects were in a siate of transition between their former identity (the "old man") and their new one. At the level of conscious behavior the crisis betrays it- self in all kinds of sentimental, per~ectionistic, depressive or even mildly paranoid traits. Brother Claude feels sad-dened by the November weather; another is not at ease working with the lay brothers in the garden; Robert thinks that his companions have something~against him when his prayer is not going well; Josephofeels depressed because he may not go out; and the imagination of John-Paul takes refuge in the past. As' for authority, almost all had a poorly balanced attitude, falling either into an exaggerated sub-missiveness or into revolt, or ifito indiscreet exercise of their own authority. Examples of these will be given later. The majority of the novices, then, manifested the two dimensions of the identity crisis which are at the heart of the religious life, for they relate to the vows of chastity and obedience: bisexual confusion and confusion with re-gard to authority. Catalysts of the Crisis The causes of the identity crisis can be summarized in this way: There is crisis, confusion, and disintegration be-cause the novitiate calls into question the initial identity with which the young man came to the novitiate. a) The young man already had a certain role in life before his entrance into the novitiate; he was president of his class, a member of Catholic Action, a well-known foot-ball player. He had a status in his environment, and be-cause of it he enjoyed the esteem of others. Entrance into the novitiate puts an end to all this. He changes his envir-onment and he must remake his reputation. Former modes of satisfaction no longer exist. A whole network of rela-tionships is broken; and it was precisely within this net-work that he found his own place, that he had realized, provisionally but really, his identity. All this he has to do over again. The impossibility of living out his identity in the old way almost inevitably causes a disintegration. The aspirations of the subject and almost their entire psychic substructure remain in suspension until they can be replaced by others or be reaffirmed. Before his novitiate Claude was in love with a some-what maternal girl who was a great help to him in his dif-ficulties. She forced him to become open, although in his own words he had tried to kill his sensitivity. She made an opening in his armor; he could communicate his ideal instead of pursuing it all alone. Separation from her at his entrance into the novitiate was difficult for him. His mem-ories of tenderness keep him alternating between melan-choly and aggressiveness. Arthur, the son of a farmer, is a young man whose strong ambition was enough to assure his success in stud-ies at the rural high school he attended, though from time to time he got on the nerves of his companions. In the ÷ ÷ VOLUME 21, 1962 ll9 novitiate he is more or less forgotten, for the smarter city boys leave him in the shadows. They take in with ease and naturalness everything that he had to fight hard for with an unremitting labor which had in turn cut him off from his modest origins. He can no longer play the role into which he had thrown all his energy. He has lost his place in society. He becomes depressed, grows still more ambi-tious in doing the Work of the novitiate, and becomes over sensitive to the least remarks of others. As for John-Paul, the role he wishes to play in life can be adequately summed up as that of an important priest, very esteemed by his people. Already at college he had to be first in the class to get admiration; and later, feeling himself crowded too closely by the other students, he plunged himself into extracurricular activities for the same reason. But the novitiate, the first step toward the realization of his identity as a priest, becomes a place of frustration and crisis. There he is far from college where he played a role of the highest rank and equally far from a friend whose affection gave him a sense of personal value. Here no one knows him. Hence his homesickness. During meditation he thinks of his friend, of past times, especially of those scenes in which he played an eminent role; or else he thinks of the future, he sees himself in the pulpit as a preacher. Evidently John-Paul is hypersensitive to the impression which he makes on the other novices; for example, in his reading at table. He takes great care with his hair, gives it a real coiffure, and contemplates himself in the mirror. b) Entry into the novitiate not only deprives the sub-ject of a part of his previous identity, but the community also wishes to change the candidate who comes to it in order to make him into a man who bears the community'.~ image and likeness; in other words, a religious with the spirit of his order. It is far from accepting the candidate as he is. The community has quite fixed ideas about what its members ought to become. Certain aspects of the nov-ice's previous identity, therefore, are necessarily destined for elimination while others must be developed to a more considerable degree. This is a changing of habits with its intellectual accompaniment--indoctrination. The conditions necessary for all indoctrination are (see Erikson, Young Man Luther [New York: Norton, 1958], p. 134): Isolation from the exterior world: family, friends, the old environment. Restriction of the sources of sensory stimulation and an immense value-increase in the power of words. The elimination of all private life, emphasis being placed on common life. Common devotion to the leaders who constitute and represent the community. The novitiate is a closed society; no influence is toler-ated there which would compromise the work of reforma-tion and indoctrination. Consequently no girls, no going out, no radio and television,.rio~,p6cket moridy~V~i~y~ ~ew visits. As for papers and magazines, only the more pious and serious ones will be allowed, In order to occupy the mind of the novice now emptied of worldly concerns, it is filled with spiritual teaching. So that he may be put on. the right road, the candidate is submitted to a daily pro-gram that is rigorous and unchanging and thateventually forms his mind as drops of water wear away stone. He is required to judge his own failings in the twice-daily ex-aminations of conscience. He may have no other company than that of the people who embody or partake of the desired ideal: the master of novices, his assistant, the other novices; there is no other model with whom he may iden-tify. The novitiate is, then, a dosed society in which the voice of indoctrination reverberates like an echo in an empty cave. For a change so profound must be brought about in the young man that once he has set out into the world upon his apostolic mission his' new identity must be the one which prevails over all previous attachments. He must himself become a representative and an incarnation of the spirit of his institute. That the "old man" feels uneasy in this hothouse should not be surprising. For example: Brother Yves states that: the isolation from people causes me some trouble, for I feel the need to be fully accepted as I am and also to be understood . My greatest fear about religious life and particularly about common life is that I may cease to be myself in order to fall into line. I fear a conformity in which all would be superficial and artificial, in which nothing would be assimilated, made per-sonal. I do not desire conformity, uniformity, stoic equanimity in my life. Here we discover an interesting difference between the two novitiates we have studied. In one, spiritual forma-tion is much more intense than in the other. The novices give reports of their spiritual progress to the master of novices, who follows and directs them very closely. The other master of novices, on the contrary, is a proponent of less exacting methods. In the "tight" novitiate, certain of the young men regressed to a point that was not reached by comparable novices in the more relaxed novitiate. Their crisis was more violent, for inevitably the less ac-ceptable aspects of their old identity were attacked with greater force. c) A third cause of the identity crisis in the novitiate ¯ comes from the fact that the previous ideas of the young man about the community of his choice are rarely real- 4. 4. 4. Identity Crisis VOLUME 21, 1962 121 ÷ ÷ ÷ 1¥. 4~ Bo~t, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 17.2 istic. Most often they are based on an idealized image of certain members of the community whom he knew before he entered either personally or through reading. He may imagine that every Franciscan is a Poverello, every Jesuit a Teilhard da Chardin, and every Dominican a Sertil-langes. He wishes to become like them. But he finds out very quickly that most of the members of the religious community are far from being the incarnation of this ideal, and then the novice frequently wonders whether his place is in the institute he has chosen, since it is of so little help to growth in his present identity. When Brother Irenaeus triumphantly ascertains that certain of the old fatheks do not practice what is demanded of the novices, his pride and his mistrust are the means by which he pro-tects his own high ideal. Francis, on the other hand, criti-cizes his fellow novices: they should be more perfect. He can't understand why they should be looking out the win-dow, why they should quarrel, or why they slip apples into their pockets after dinner to eat them in .their rooms. All this is personally disgusting to him. "If they entered religion to act like that . " And he is sorry that "medi-ocrity is not only found in the world, but also in the cloister." His excessive criticism is a means of defending himself against the temptation to do what they are doing, a temp-tation which is inadmissible because of a too rigid con-science. d) Finally, most communities have a great number of ministries to perform. It is often the decision of superiors which determines what role will later be assigned to the novice; whether he will be a missionary, a professor of apologetics, a parish priest, a teacher of the young, or the treasurer of the house. For one who has set his heart on the role of missionary, for example, obedience may create from the novitiate on a climate of uncertainty, a doubt about the possibility of realizing his role in life, his iden-tity. For we must not forget that one's identity is a synthe-sis of all one's previous development and hence it is not changed as one changes clothes. The novice ought, never-theless, to leave himself open to the possibility that the vow of obedience may make altogether a different thing of his life than what he thought. So it is that John-Paul wonders whether his superiors will let him go to the mis-sion where "the pagans, once converted to the faith of the gospel, will know better than the people of this coun-try the value of a priest." For he seeks everywhere the love and security he has up till now not found, and it was this quest which impelled him toward the priesthood. These four inevitable factors provoke an identity crisis in the novice which can go just "short of psychotic dis-sociation" (Erikson, Young Man Luther, op. cit., p. 134). This is a kind of fragmentation of the ego, a breakdown of the personality synthesis in a clash with the new en-vironment. The breach which the impact of this environ-ment makes in the synthesis is always located at its weakest point; that is, in certain conflicts Of the past Which Were poorly dealt with. In this serise,, the novitiate,brlngg .OUt the worst in oneself; the combined pressure of competition, adaptation to the level of the environment and the very rigid mode of life causes even the smallest weakness in the identity of the novice to burst fortl~. Beginners' Faults as Dimensions of the Crisis We can now parallel" the faults of beginners with Erik-son's eight dimensions of the identity crisis; for, according to our thesis, these faults are their equivalents in the re-ligious domain. As a matter of fact, it is not only the sogial life of the candidate which is troubled, but his spiritual life; all the more so since this constitutes the principal content of the life of the group and its members. We re-peat, we are studying the spiritual life here only under its psychological aspect and not at all under its theological aspect. a) Loss of perspective, the first of the dimensions of the identity crisis, betrays itself on the spiritual plane by a lack of patience, by a failure to apprehend that religious development has both its heights and its depths as does any other human evolution. This quest for the immediate is evident in spiritual gluttony and in its counterpart, dis-taste for spiritual realities when they do not procure a sensible satisfaction. It is equally to be found in those who wish. to push precipitously ahead. In his spiritual life Brother Mark seeks the love and consolation he did not receive enough of when he was little. In high school he created an environment for him-self which answered more or less adequately to his needs. But the change of environment deprives him of this sup-port and obliges him.to seek it elsewhere, in God. He seeks "the divine presence, a mysterious presence which I try to locate in myself without success. Each of my members dis-covers new sensations at this moment.". But when the quest does not succeed, "I feel a kind of di~sgust without reason or apparent motive. At such times Jesus does not seem to satisfy me; I thirst for something else too vague to be men-tioned or clearly defined." For Andrew, the need to rush ahead and a false apostolic zeal arose when common life and the demands of the no-vitiate for a change in his habits simultaneously reinforced a precocious superego and the unacceptable impulseg he was trying to harness] The unrealistic demands proper to these last two "imperfections" cause this novice not to feel at home with his less demanding comrades and his father ÷ ÷ ÷ Identity Crisis VOLUME 21~ 1962 ÷ W. de Bont, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS master who are themselves far from accepting with benev-olence this excess of zeal. To novices who have such difficulties the religious com-munity provides a helpful balancing factor in the per-spective of the future it opens to them. They are told of the various stages of the spiritual life; in the religious life there is a step-by-step education over several years (no-vitiate, philosophical and theological studies, ordina-tion.). There is a daily program set up in detail and firmly enforced. Finally, the candidate is promised cer-tain success in this world or in the next if he perseveres. b) Lack of assurance manifests itself in all those im-perfections which seek to hide certain defects by an im-moderate reaction: excessive shame for faults, a too literal adherence to the rules, indiscrete mortifications. Two ex-amples have already been given (B~'others Irenaeus and Francis). The novitiate offers the novices a provisional protection against their initial clumsiness in the unifor-mity it imposes in observances, clothing, spirituality. With this protection the novice is able to regain little by little the confidence in himself which was upset by the causes listed above. c) Pusillanimity in the spiritual life can be considered a failure to experiment with various roles; and certain forms of jealousy (of the progress of others) and of hypo-chondria (in connection with fasting, for example) can be considered as derivatives of Oedipal conduct. So it was that Henry, who was not able to identify with his dead father in order to attain, at least in his imagination, a superiority over his brothers which would give him a spe-cial title to the love of fiis mother, wished to carry on his apostolate in such a way that "after my departure people will forget completely that I was ever around, and that it was I who handled mattersY Fearing competition he does not dare to push himself forward. By always doing exacdy as the others, by effacing himself, he denies that he is dif-ferent, jealous, guilty of favoritism. In this case, the novitiate tries above all to encourage him to attempt one role, that of the apprentice religious. The novitiate is nothing else but an initiation into this role, begun with the taking of the habit as an exterior sign of the status which will be had henceforth in the com-munity and continued every day in the life of the novice. d) Paralysis about work clearly reveals itself in the dif-ficulties which the novice has from time to time in his spirit.ual exercises, meditation, examination of conscience, recitation of the Breviary. For Henry, for example, exami-nations of conscience remain at the surface of his person-ality. He fears lest his jealousy and anxiety come to the surface. Religious educators do everything in the noviti- ate to allow positive fulfillment, by teaching the novice suitable methods for achieving success in this domain. e) Lack of identity or confusion of roles manifests itself in a vague feeling of not b.eing at home in the novitiate, by nostalgia for the past, by the impo.ssibility of finding a place and a role in the communi~y: Examples Were" given above. The novitiate seeks to remedy this by encouraging the recruit to identify with his community by proposing to him in an exclusive way the spirit of the congregation or the order. f) Bisexual confusion manifests itself by all sorts of dif-ficulties with sex: the sexualization of religious life, for example, in sexual impulses at the moment of communion or confession; in particular friendships unddr the cloak of a spiritual relationship; in scruples about ~bad thoughts." Brother Guy, for example, transfers to Christ and St. John his tender feelings about a friend whom he has left in the world: You must have embraced very tenderly, as gently as do two beloved people spontaneously when one has acquired the other's special admiration; when one wishes to protest more deeply his profound joy in and friendly respect for the other. I would have liked to spend with the two of you those long evenings beneath the stars, as I had the happiness to spend them with James, speaking no doubt of Your ambitions, become those of Jol~n s~nce You loved him so tenderly, and he loved You. This transfer is meant to fill the void left by the impos-sibility of continuing an earthly friendship. What the novice should learn here, with the help of his spiritual director, is to renounce the exercise of his sex-ual faculty while at the same time .developing his manli-ness. This is impossible unless this renunciation is in-spired by valid and for the most part conscious motives ("for the kingdom.of God'i)and as little as possible af-fected by fear, shame, distaste, or guilt. g) The lack of reasonable attitudes with respect to au-thority is expressed by a crowd of symptoms: an extrava-gant docility, revolt against authority, a kind of freezing up in relations with superiors; too great a zeal to convert others where the aim is much more to resolve one's own problems than to help one's neighbor. 'Michael, for ex-ample, is so docile as to worry the master of novices some-what. He wants to be told what to do; he never resists; he has the spirit of. sacrifice; anything may be asked of him. If he is nettled, he gives a start and then merely smiles. His spiritual ideal is~ complete abandonment to God. He wishes to forget himself in order to be concerned only for God and His interests. Michael is a young man Whose mother thwarted him in his desire :for masculine inde-pendence. At the conscious level he submitted but uncon-sciously he rebelled against her. In the novitiate obedience 4. 4. Identity Crisis 1~5 4- REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is a most important matter and there are very few possi-bilities for aggressivity (for example, sports) left open to him. His problem, then, is accentuated. It may be under-stood, then, that for him God and the master of novices are conceived after the image of his mother. Peter's sense of his priestly mission still has "some end other than a supernatural one." The reason for this is that by a slightly megalomaniac identification with pater-nal authority, of which he makes himself the prophet, he is protecting himself against a feeling of persecution. The image he has of his father is split into two, and his feelings are equally divided. Everything good about his father is projected into God, everything bad into the devil. Accord-ingly, to save the world by his apostolate means in fact to preserve the connection with the good parent (God) and to eliminate the bad (the devil). Since the novitiate is a completely masculine society and at the 'same time by it.~ nature demands obedience, it further accentuates the con. flicts about sexuality and authority which underlie thi:~ apostolic identity (according to psychoan.alytic theory, the paranoid personality is rooted in homosexualized relation-ships with the father, the representative of authority in the family); but at the same time it makes the experience o[ the apostolate impossible for the time being. One may not go out during .the novitiate, and so the balance of forces in Peter is upset. The master of novices will have the difficult task of teaching the novices the just mean between the docility of a sheep and revolt at the barricades, as in the case of the novice who barricaded his door when the superior knocked to get him to rise (he always got up late). To give the novices certain opportunities for leadership frora the novitiate on may contribute to the development of the orientation which is desirable in this domain. h) Finally, a confusion of ideals is the most obvious thing about the novices who do not yet know whether they want to stay or leave the novitiate to return to the world or who hesitate to choose among several communities, Brother Mark has grave doubts about his perseverance because he is torn between a "worldly" past made entic-ing by the admiration he commanded at school and tile frustrations of his present conventual life caused by the lack of tenderness and esteem received from others. Spir-itual training here seeks to take away all ambivalence by presenting the novice with the ideology of his order and excluding all other ideologies (newspapers are ban-ishedl). A certain simplification results from this which sometimes becomes a caricature; one novice will think he is living the "pure gospel" because he walks .around in sandals as the apostles did; another will think he has found the perfect balance between contemplation and action because in his community Compline is sung in common before sleep. When the new identity of the nov-ice is sufficiently established, this simplification will no longer be necessary. Psychologically speaking, the faults of beginners are merely attempts to maintain'. Or to reestablish 15rovision-ally the psychic equilibrium which has been upset by the impact of the environment, an impact which has struck the novice at the weakest points of his former identity. As Father Mailloux has said, they are not "typically pathological reactions per se, but rather.irrational modes of expression, upon which the psychic apparatus will normally fall back whenever an individual is unable to cope with a stressful situation in some rational man-ner" (Rev. Noel Mailloux, O.P., "Sanctity and the Prob-lem of Neurosis," Pastoral Psychology, 10 [February, 1959], 40). For in successful cases the novice readjusts; he incorporates the identity elements offered him by the religious environment into the best which his identity al-ready has and gets rid of the less acceptable elements. Having provoked the crisis, a well-directed novitiate helps also to heal it. And once the adaptation is made and the novice has regained his place, this time in the community of his choice, his beginner's faults disappear like hay fever when the season has passed. In less successful cases, there is a failure. Concord be-tween' the identity of the novice and the demands or the support of the environment remains impossible: The reasons may come from two quarters: a lack of flexibility in the subject consequent upon an identity too charged with conflict as with the brother of the barricades cited above who left his community a little later,, or on the part of the community which is unable to Offer the novice the place which he seeks for his gifts and his particular abilities as in that sufficiently large novitiaite where .eighty percent of the novices left because of a master of novices still living spiritually in the nineteenth' century. The shock was the greater for them as their previous educa-tion was the more liberal. Conclusion We have studied in this article the psychological side of this night of the senses which the novitiate arouses by its very nature. By uprooting the candidate from his for-mer environment, it deprives him of the support which his identity enjoyed before in order to invite him to a higher spiritual balance. Our perspective, it is true, has been a restricted one; we have described only what the novitiate may have in common with any identity crisis studied by the psychologist. On this plane, the crisis of the novice resembles that of a young man who prepares 4. ÷ Identity Crisis VOLUME 21, 1962 W. de Bo~t, 0~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]28 himself for army service at West Point, or who leaves hi.q small-town home to go to a large, university--although course the crisis has a different content according as concerns military formation, the situation of a student, or religious training---celibacy and examinations of con-science do not figure largely in a military perspective. For methodological reasons we have left aside that which con~ .stitutes the very essence of the life of the novitiate: the introduction to the life of consecration to God to which by His grace He has invited the novice. It is this properly spiritual aspect which masters of novices are best ac-quainted with, and they can guide themselves in this by a solidly established spiritual theology. Our only inten-tion has been to draw their attention to the psychological side of this introduction to sanctity, a side which it 'is better not to be totally ignorant of. The "follies" of nov-ices should not be seen as faults which are exclusively in the moral order, as pride, for example, considered as the capita) sin. There is question rather of provisional, and unsuccessful efforts to adapt oneself to a new situation; hence they are normal phenomena which always arise under one form or another when a man must remake the synthesis of his personality. Nevertheless, they are real difficulties and not imaginary, often very painful for the subject who undergoes them and annoying for those around him. The wisdom of an alert master of novices will assuage much of this human pain, and this the more so as he knows better the identity of the novice in ques. tion, with its strong points and its weak. This present article is limited to describing the iden-tity crisis of the novice. It does not pretend to furnish the elements of a possible prognostication. If almost all nov, ices undergo this crisis in some degree or other, how, among so many of the "imperfect," can those who will persevere be singled out from those who will leave or merely mark time for the rest of their lives? This is an important question, for the novitiate terminates with a profession which, even though it be temporary, repre-sents a real and very profound commitment. Certain re-marks of St. John of the Cross (Dark Night, 1, 9) coukl provide us with a point of departure for such a consid- ¯ eration; but this task must be reserved to a later article. PAUL W. O'BRIEN, S.J. Introducing the Young Sister to Prayer One of the problems facing the young sister is learning to pray. She h~is probably been pra

Issue 25.1 of the Review for Religious, 1966. ; Religious Women and Pastoral Nork by J. M. R. Tillard. O.P. 1 Metanoia or Conversion by J6seph Fichtner, O.S.C. 18 The Church's Holine~g and Reh~ous Life by Gustave Ma'~t~lei, S.J. 32 Religious Significance of the T.rinity by Bernard Fraigneau-Julien, ~.S.S. 53 Contemplatives and Change ~by Mother M. Angelica! P.C. 68 The Crisis of Creatur~liness by Alfred de Souza, S.J; 73 Sdence and Renewal by Thomas Dubay,] S.M. 80 Freudian Gloom and Christiah Joy by William J. Ello~, S.J. 95 Freedom to IObey by Mother M. Viola, O.S.F~ 104 The Great Waste by Sister Mary Carl Ward, I~.S.M. 114 A Fresh Look at God by Patrick J. 0 Halloran,, S.J. 125 Poems 130 Survey of RomanDocumi ents 132 Views, News, Prdviews 135 Questions and Ariswers 138 Book Rdviews 142 VOLUME 25 NUMBER I January 1966 Volume 25 1966 EDITORIAL OFFICE St. Mary's College St. Marys, Kansas 66536 BUSINESS OFFICE 428 East Preston Street Baltimbre, Maryland 21202 EDITOR R. F. Smith, ASSOCIATE EDITORS Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Augustine G. Ella~d, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITORS Ralph F. Taylor, S.J. William J. Weiler, S.J. DEPARTMENTAL EDITORS Questions and Answers Joseph F. Gallen, S.J2 Woodstock College Woodstock, Maryland 22163 Book Reviews. Norman Weyand, S.J. Bellarmine School of Theology of Loyola University 230 South Lincoln Way North Aurora, Illinois 60542 Published in January, March, May, July, September, Novem-ber on the fifteenth of the month. REVIEW FOR RELI-GIOUS is indexed in the CATHOLIC PERIODICAL IN-DEX. and in BOOK REVIEW INDEX J. Mo R. TILLARD, O.P. Religious Women and Pastoral Work It is interesting to study fxom a theological viewpoint the history of the appearance in the Church of religious communities of women devoted to the active life. One basic trait clearly distinguishes them: in spite of the immense diversity of their immediate ends, all these con-gregations find their finality in the exercise of evan-gelical charity in the form of what is ordinarily referred, to as "the works of mercy." Whether it is a question of caring for the sick, of helping the poor, of educating youth, of assisting the~ aged, or of accepting and rehabili-tating certain categories of men: and women, rejected bye our society, the central activity of these communities always issues in a direct love of human beings., If one compares, for example, a missionary congregation of men such as the Holy Ghost Fathers and a missionary con-gregation of women such as the Sisters of St. Joseph of Cluny, it will be seen how, in the same human context and with the same apostolic aim, ~the activity of such religious women brings to e~clesial activity a specific note of realistic charity. The priest preaches the gospel and administers the sacraments; the 'lay brother is occupied with the material needs o[ the mission; but the mission-ary sister attempts to incarnate concretely in the here and now the message of fraternal charity which is at the heart of the good news: she nurses, she feeds, she edu-cates. It is.this area that is her ministry, and in it.she finds the certainty of serving her Lord in all fullness. While in non-clerical religious communities of men (such as teaching or hospital brothers) there often ap-pears a kind of tension arising from the fact that these religious experience a sense of frustration at not being able. to exercise a priestly ministerial function, com-munities of women ordinarily find peace in the humble, day-by-day gift of their charity. This point seems to us to be ecclesiologically and pastorally important; and we would like to study it here ÷ J. M. R. Tillard, O.P., is professor of dogmatic theology at the Dominican House, of Studies; 96 Empress Ave-nue; Ottawa 4, Can-ada. VOLUME 251 1966 ! ÷ ÷ ÷ ]. M. R. Tillard, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS from three distinct points of view: first, we shall attempt to point out the theological characteristics of the specific activity of the religious women at the heart of all ecclesial activity; then we shall try to situate that activity of religious women in its direct relationship with the ac-tivity of the hierarchy; and finally we shall discuss the concrete possibilities of enlarging their activities in ac-cord with the needs of the Church today. The Work o[ Charity o[ Religious Women Is at the Heart of the Apostolic Charity of the Church In what does the charity of God's Church for men consist? To this question an answer can be given in the simple statement: the Church seeks to be a genuine in-strumentof grace by which the love of God Himself for men can be effective in the here and now of the human situation. In other words, in her charity the Church does not seek to love merely in her own name; rather she is desirous" that through her and through the mediation of her transparency and of her profound mystery of com-munion with God there may pass the power of the agape of the Father. This is the reason why her love for men is always humble and poor and never triumphant: she of-fers her heart, her hands, her toils, and her goods to the charity of God. It is in this way--and perhaps above all in this way--that she is sacrament in the precise sense that through her and the ministry of her action the One who is defined as Love reveals Himself and acts. He is that Love which does not remain enclosed within itself but which on the contrary radiates out to touch and affect all beings and all the reality of every being. To say that the Church is servant--and this perhaps is her most fitting characteristic in the present time of the history of salvation--is to say that she has no meaning except inso-far as she serves as an intermediary between the mysteri-ous love of the Father and men as they actually exist. More profoundly, it is to say that she is a mystery o[ charity; that is, through the total availability created in her by her love [or God passes the love o[ God Himself. It does not seem to us to be an exaggeration to say that today God wishes to love the world through the heart o[ the Church. In this Iove of God for men transmediated by the Church there is without doubt an internal and essential order. The dominant wish of the Father--and the entire gospel message affirms this--is to lead men to His king-dom, to introduce them already in this life to the inti-macy of His friendship in order that eventually they may share for all eternity in the glory of His Son. Christianity is not to be confused with humanism, however great the latter may be; its aim is always that self-surpassing which we call the "life of grace," and the Church can be faithful to her mission only insofar as she leads men into the fullness of the Pasch of Jesus. This is why at the heart of her action her fundamental preoccupation is always with the Pasch and its two moments of death to sin and of resurrection to newness of life. She exists [or the Pasch; she exists to proclaim the staggering reality of this Day that inaugurates the new times, to make present and active its power in the Eucharist and the other sacra-ments, to keep men in contact with this source of the love of the Father. A Church that would cease to center its life on the Pasch would no longer be the Church of God (Ekklesia tou Theou), the sacrament and the place of agape. Nevertheless, this paschal love is a total love of man in the concrete, and it has nothing of the abstract about it. It does not merely aim at.some small, secret zone of the human person (what is equivocally called "his interior life"). Without effecting an artificial cleavage between the natural and the supernatural, the temporal and the eternal, it encounters the person as he really is in the unity of his person. On the one hand, it penetrates to the very depths of the human being whom it renews and re-creates by grace; on the other hand, its pervasive in-fluence reaches the entire extent of the human mystery. Between the mystery of the redemption and the mys-tery of creation there exists a profound unity, the link-ing bond of which is precisely the paschal event. The Father of Jesus is God the Creator; and the Son who is incarnated in Jesus is just as truly the One "through whom God created the world" (Heb 1:2). Moreover, if God sends His Son, He does so--it is the living tradition of the Church as expressed by Irenaeus--in order to save and to regain the fix'st creation that has been wounded by sin. The Resurrection is not simply a starting point, the ¯ dawning of eschatological times; it is above all the glorification of creation by the entry of a man (its King) into full participation in the Spirit of God. It is the ele-vation and exaltation of nature by the power of agape. For the Father does not give the resurrected Christ a new Body; He restores that Body of His that was born of Mary but now is flooded with divine gifts. He thereby lets us know--a point that we often forget--that His plan is a single one, that in Him there is not one plan as Creator and another plan as Redeemer with a clearcut distinction between them; there is only one plan of love that envelops all of human destiny. This, moreover, is the reason why baptism which opens the door to the world of grace is also the leavening pledge of the resur-rection of nature (Rom 6:5; 8:11; Eph 2:6). Paschal love--of which the Church is the instrument + + ÷' ÷ ÷ ~÷ J. M. R. Till~rd~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS --is, then, a love that is directed to the entire reality of the human condition and that refuses every form of selec- . tivity with regard to the makeup of the human existen-tial. In its ultimate finality it is eschatological in the sense that its overall concern is with leading man to the glory of the Parousia. Nevertheless, it is concerned with the human situation as this is realized here and now. For here and now God loves man; here and now His Father's heart wishes to give His creature the benefits of His in-finite love; here and now He wishes men to know that in spite of their misery they are loved by Him; and here and now He desires :that the world be infused with the re-creation and healing of nature provided by the Pasch of J~sus. More than this, God the Father desires that this love, immediately directed to the nature of man and seeking to heal sicknesses, to console the troubled, and to succor the poor, should be the atmosphere in which there shines forth the revelation of that other dimension of agape which opens on the joy of eternity. In other words, the eschatological aim of paschal love--the prom-ise and the hope of eternal liIe where .there will be "'no more wailing, no more crying,, no more pain" (Ap 21:4) --can be proclaimed and revealed only by the action of ecclesial charity on the miseries and .sufferings of this earthly life. Charitable action in the today and the tem-poral of the history of men is nothing less than the sacra-ment and the seal o[ paschal love. The Church can pro-claim and prepare the happiness of eternity only if she devotes herself to the .relief of the suffering of mankind. It is thereby--and theologians do not seem to have real-ized this in 'a realistic way--that'she sows in this world the first fruits of the world to come. But it should not be thought that what has just been stated is only the reasoning of a theologian. To be con-vinced of this, it is sufficient to reflect with attention on the way in which Jesus realized His messianic vocation. If He fulfilled the figure of the Suffering Servant (glimpsed in the Servant of Yahweh Songs inserted in the Book of Isaiah), he did so not only by His death of ignominy but also by His pedagogy of mercy and.of tenderness (Is 42:!-7). He preached the gospel of salva-tion by "going about doing good" as Peter said to .Cor-nelius and his friends (Acts 10:38). And this good that He did consisted of simple acts of temporal mercy: healing the sick, consoling widows, giving food to the hungry, treating the poor with kindness, welcoming strangers without any attitude of segregation. The proclamation of the gospel was done in this way, and the death on the cross receives its significance only when situated in this climate which reveals th'at its finality is one o[ love and not of.power. And there are other manifestations of this. As a sign permitting John to judge of His messianic mission, Jesus in Matthew 11:2-6 offers His acts of love for the lowly and the poor, following in this the line traced by the prophecies of Isaiah: it is these acts that are the seal authenticating His vocation. In the merciful act of themultiplication of loaves performed out of pity for the needs of the persons who followed Him, Jesus according to John (6:1-66) reveals the profound mean-ing of the sacrament bf His .lbve, the Eucharist. In that case, once again, the act of temporal mercy, far from being merely an occasion allowing Jesus to speak about His doctrine, provides the climate and the atmosphere in which the proclamation of the Bread of life can burst forth. The gift of material bread and the Eucharist are not two acts artificially bracketed together; they are rather two expressions of the same thrust of agape as Paul well understood when he reproached the Corin-thians (1 Cor 11:17-33). Similarly, the washing of the feet (Jn 13:1-20) is not just a simple illustration of the commandment of charity and of the mutual service de-manded of the disciples; it is its seed. One last indica-tion can be given, one which it seems to us has not been sufficiently recognized: the holy women were the first proclaimers of the Resurrection simply because they were concerned to go early in the morning to give the Body of Jesus the care and the veneration that Jewish custom demanded--an act of humble mercy, but by doing it they became the first witnesses of the act par excellence of the mercy of the Father. We hope, then, that the importance of the above reflec-tions is understood. We do not intend to show here what John has so strongly emphasized; namely, that the frater-nal love of Christians among themselves is the sign of their belonging to Christ and thereby a witness to the power of agape. Our intention is to enable one t.o grasp that mercy shown towards all men, whether Christians or not, is the atmosphere which envelops and normally authenticates the gospel proclamation. In other words, we wish to throw light on the fact that we can bring men the good news only if at the same time and in the name of this good news we concretely show men that we love them "not in words, but in deeds--genuinely." For in the humility of their object these acts are the sacrament in which should gradually appear their infinite originat-ing source with its promise of eternal happiness. But this is an eternal happiness that does not permit flight from the suffering of the present but that, on the contrary, involves itself with that suffering in order to sow there already the seeds of eschatological joy. Once again, it is through the experience of the visible and the tangible that God slowly leads mankind to faith in the invisible; ÷ ÷ ÷ Religious Women VOLUME 25, 1966 ÷ 4. ÷ ]. M. R. Tillard, O.P. REVIEW'FOR RELIGIOUS 6 by the visible dimension of His chitrity H~ leads them to faith in the folly of His, agape." it is when seen in this light that the apostolic actii, ity of religious women of the active life receives its evangeli-cal meaning. Properly speaking, theirs is not the task of preaching the gospel wffh authority: this. fl6ws from the hierarchical function to which they do not have access. Neither are they like militant lay people wiih a inandate to take charge of a milieu and graduMly conduct it to Christ; although these religiohs women are essentially members of the laity, they pertain to a special form 'of lay life officially recognized by the Church and deter-mined by t.h'e directi;c~s of their constitutions which fix the quality of their mandate. Here we should note the confusion that so.me pastors and even some theologians cause by more or le~s fissimilating the life of religious women to that of secular institutes, basing themselves in this. only on canonical texts. Briefly, religious women of the active life do not ordinarily form a part of.what is called the direct apostolate. Nevertheless, they play an essential role in the work of evangelization. For by their day-to-day charitable activity officially done in the name of the Church it is they who assure the gospel of the atmosphere of mercy,, the importance of which we have shown. For. this activity to bear all its fruit, it is evidently necessary that it be disinte~:ested, that motives of the financial interest and of the material prosperity of the community should not take precedence over the apostolic anguish arising from love for men. Let us admit that in this matter there is often room for considerable con-version, especially in countries where religious commu-nities conduct their institutions without any outside con-trol. But under the p.retext of real abuses, one should not make a wholesale condemnation without any distinc-tions. By her religious women the Church creates the visible dimensidn of charity ~which according to the law of the divine pedagogy is an integral part of the work of evangelization. And let us add that their vows add to the activity of sisters an element which married or non-reli-gious militants do not have. For sisters are those who have freely given up human values as fundamental as those of nuptial and motherly love, of the possession of a certain level of comfort; and they have done this in order to give themselves more completely to the universal love of men. Thanks to them if they are faithful to their vocation, poor themselves and hence totally transparent garriers of the love of the Father--the Church is able to reply .to those who question her mission: "Look around and see: the blind see, the lame Walk, lepers are healed, the deaf hear., and the good news is proclaimed to the poor" (Mt 11:4-6). Far from being an obstacle to the evangeli-zation of the world, are not these religious, on the con-trary, its advance troops? Day after day they plough the fields in which the hierarchy sows the word and where other lay people lend support to the testimony of the love of the Father. In a word, these religious ~ire the sign of the love of the Father for poor mankind slashed by suffering. The Action o[ Religious Women and Its Relation to the Action o[ the Hierarchy O~icially--and it is told him from the day of his con-secration-- the bishop is charged in a special way with the love of the poor, the suffering, and the lowly of his churches. He is not simply the functionary which man), imagined him to be before Vatican Council II; he has the vocation of a father. And this implies that his heart is anguished by the suffering of his people. But to discharge this duty (and he will have to r(nder account of it on the day of judgment), he cannot rely only on his own powers and his own initiative. Here, as everywhere in his pastoral action, he must act in com-munion with lay people. This does not mean that he seeks to utilize the energies of the latter for the profit o~ his own projects and plans (this would be clericalism). On the contrary, he labors to arouse and nourish in them a conscientious and realistic grasp of the heavy responsibility that, not as pastors but as baptized brothers of Christ, they also have with regard to the concrete exercise of the charity of God in the midst of the needs of their fellow men, especially of those who suffer. For it is the Church as such, in the living union of its leaders and its faithful, which must radiate the paschal love of the Father. No one. can dispense himself from this law of his baptismal grace. Nevertheless, all are not called to live it out in the same fashion: there are special places in the Body of Christ, and even within the laity chari-table action can diversify itsell: in a number of ways. One of these ways will retain our attention here. It will be recalled that at the beginning of this article, it was said that all active communities of women find their definitive finality in the exercise of the works of mercy. But why is this? The answer to this question will intro-duce us into the very heart of ecclesiology. Let us recall that the mystery of the Pasch takes place not over and beyond creation but in it. The former is not the destroyer of the latter; on the contrary, it saves and elevates it. This is why all created values should hormally become paschal values. Accordingly, the gifts of nature considered in the light of the Resurrection appear as graces, primary and structural graces which 4- + + Religious Wdmen VOLUME 25~ 1966 7 ÷ ÷ ]. M. R. Tillard, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 8 find their true meaning only in the Church. Everything human, then, is grace; and hence everything human as such should allow itself to be swept along by the power of paschal love. But in the human as it is concretely and existentially realized the differentiation of the sexes, plays a central role, and to ignore it would be a grave matter. Sexuality is not simply an exterior ~nd accidental wrapping cover-ing a common reality: it penetrates to the deepest mys-tery of man and woman and gives a positive determina-tion to that mystery. Each sex has a positive value that it alone is able to accomplish because sex modalizes the human along a given line. Sex, it is true, carries with it the entire essence of the human being so that nothing which defines and situates the latter will be absent from the one sex when it is in the other. Nevertheless, each human sex is under its own proper, unique, and ir-replaceable mode. In the man the human being is mas-culinity, in the woman it is femininity. And it cannot be in the man without being masculinity nor in the w~man without being femininity. Hence, the act of knowIedge, the act of joy, the act 0f love, the act of giving self are all in the man and in the woman but under a mode proper to each. The same is true of the act of pertaining to the Church of God and the act of serving the gospel. Hence the gift of self for the radiating of paschal love passes through masculinity and femininity. These represent the two positive and complementary values of the human through which the love of the Father sacramentalizes it-self. Man (the male) is above all power. He is power in the gift of physical life, he is also power in the domination of the world. In him cold reason dominates intuition. He structures, he legislates, he constructs, and he judges everything with a certain rigor. He likes to dominate, and his physical strength allows him to do.so. Accord-ingly, his proper collaboration with the agape of the Father is better exercised in an institutional ministry as leader of the community, as pastor, as legislator. But the woman is above all offering, appeal to communion, open transparency to the other. She is characterized by meraory and constantly sharpened intuition more than by logical rigor and deductive reason. She is made to receive love (as a bride) and to permit it to be fecund (by motherhood). She is heart rather than dry intelligence, tenderness and compassion rather than justice and sever-ity. She completely tends to the gift of herself in a con-stant care of little things, in the exercise of a delicacy and a kindness that sow joy. She puts flowers in the house and she sings songs. For her this is no waste, and she should not feel frustrated at not possessing what the opposite sex possesses. On the contrary, all this is her wealth; and this wealth is worth as much as that of the male. Accordingly, her proper contribution to the dif-fusion of paschal love should also quite simply assume this morphological, physical, and psychological constitu-tion which makes her what she is. She consecrates her-self especially to the dimension of temporal and spiritual mercy, of tenderness for the poor and the little--to the dimension which we mentioned above as the sign of the gospel Let us add that she alone can do this with per-fection: it is her charism. To say this is not to imply a right to the hierarchical priesthood which would thus be violated. Ther6 is no question here of such a right but of the assumption of the true quality of her being for the service of the gospel. Diversity of functions in no way signifies diversity in dignity. The charity finality of active religious women, then, appears to us to respond to the realism of the incarna-tion of grace in human nature. In our opinion it is one of the signs of the fact that the supernatural respects and saves the natural. Femininity as such with its own proper chdracteristics and its own special tendencies is thus assumed for the sake of the gospel. The motherhood of the Churcl~ cannot be better expressed. But it is necessary to go even further in our reflection. For by a special title the bishop links to himself this special charitable activity of religious women. They re-ceive from him a quasi-mandate, similar to that of the members of catholic action although it is specifically different. This gives to their commitment an official note: they face the. world as the ones officially responsible for the fidelity of the local church to the paschal com-mand of love for the lowly and the poor. It is, of course, to be clearly understood that they are not the only ones with the duty to radiate this agape just as the members of catholic action are not the only ones to give testimony to Christ in their milieu of life. Nevertheless, for reli-gious women this mission is more pressing for they re-ceive it "quasi ex officio": their entire life should be consumed so that, thanks to them, the Church may exist in an act of love and of mercy in the face of the sufferings of the world. The judgment that the world will pass on the quality of the local church on this point depends preeminently upon them. The bishop links himself to them in a notably special way in order that there might be assured the love of the poor which he is charged to maintain in a living and genuine way in his diocese. This is their ministry. And thereby it is seen how they are inserted into the pastoral work of the Church: they represent a chosen group to whom the one responsible for the ecclesial life of the diocese entrusts the ministry of + + + Religious Women VOLUME 25, 1966 9 ÷ 1. M. R. T~ltard, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 10 charity. Hence they are not situated at the fringe of apostolic action; on the contrary, though not pertaining to the hierarchy, they fulfill one of the essential func-tions of the life of the People of God, for, as we have previously pointed out, charitable action forms the at-mosphere of the proclamation of the gospel. This perspective seems to us to be able to restore the breath of the gospel to the life of many communities that are too shriveled up within themselves and that do not perceive with enough clarity the implications of their mission. Overly orientated toward the perspective of the individual perfection of their members--and this individual perfection is clearly not contradicted by what we have said---, they forget that they are supposed to create in the world an evangelical sign within which the gospel can be proclaimed in all truth. It seems to us to be a serious matter when religi6us women vowed to charity feel that "they are outside of apostolic action," that "they are restricted to an activity of secondary im-portance when the world has such a great need of apos-tles," that "they are condemned to works of filling in for others." In such cases the question must be asked whether such religious institutions do not have need of a great movement of "conversion." The Charitable Action of Religious Women and the Needs of the Church Today There is one fact that has heavy consequences for the problem to be considered in this section: most of the religious congregations vowed to works of charity were founded at a period when the State accomplished nothing or almost nothing for the relief of human misery. In this matter the Church played an evangelical role of arousal and took the lead of the movement of mercy in the name of Christ. But today (at least, in the Western world and in the large socialist countries) the State--with the im-mense means that it often has--is occupied with tasks such as the care of the sick and of the old, the education of the young, the use of leisure, the rehabilitation of certain categories of men and women; for all of this per-tains to its area of competency. In this new situation, do religious still have a place? One thing is clear. Wherever religious parallel public institutions and retain their own ~schools, hospitals, or-phanages, it is necessary that these latter, if they are to remain a sign of the gospel, be distinguished less by the size of their activity than by their quality. Between a religious establishment and other institutions there should normally be perceived a difference with regard to respect for persons and to the attention given to them and also with regard to availability, tact, and commitment. A Catholic hospital, for example, should not be distin-guished from a non-religious hospital only by the fact that it affords a certain climate of prayer, easy access to the sacraments, and the assistance of a chaplain. It is further necessary ~that the very way of treating the physical sufferings be marked with the seal of the Spirit which, as St. Paul says, is "love, joy, peace, good temper, kindliness, generosity, fidelity, gentleness, selbcontrol" (Gal 5:22). This should be so much the case that a non- Christian who is being cared for there should feel him-self enwrapped with the love of God. When an officially Christian institution is no longer capablewthe reasons may be diverse---of giving this evangelical witness, then today it no longer has any reason for existing; and its continuance in existence is a counter-witness. It is clearly evident in our day that even in the institu-tions that belong to them religious women cannot carry out all the functions required of them for the welfare of those who come to them; they have need of auxiliaries and of employees. Moreover, it is frequently the State that confides to a given community the charge of an establish-ment of which the State remains the owner and for which at times it chooses the personnel who are to assist the sisters. This is a situation that at times creates suf-ficiently bizarre conditions. But in any case it increases the apostolic responsibility of the community: the com-munity in such a case has the duty of radiating the power of agape also into the active body of workers of the establishment. This stems from the fact of having taken charge of a milieu in order to flood it with the values of the gospel. This is a genuine apostolic activity bearing fruit on three levels: the personnel to whom the true demands of charity are gradually disclosed; the repercus-sion of this conscience attitude on the action of'these men and women; and those who are its beneficiaries. There is infinite need for tact and for suppleness, for complete openness, and for the absence of all proselytism. It is equally necessary that the community should never forget its primary purpose: the manifestation of the mercy of God for the poor, for the little, for those who suffer. In the case of a group of sisters working in com-mon in an institution (this is the only case we are consid-ering here), this situation restores to the community the meaning of its apostolic vocation, imposes on it a perpetual revision of life, strengthens the bonds of fra-ternal love, and compels it to achieve a state of radical transparency with regard to the gospel. For it feels itself being constantly judged in actual situations in the. close and common work of daily labor. And in the community it is the Church that is being judged. And I would say that the Church is being judged more in such a case ÷ ÷ ÷ Religious Women VOLUME 25, 1966 11 I. M. R. Tillard, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS than it would be in cases where militants of catholic ac-tion work in the same circumstances and in the same milieu. The vows--especially that of poverty the apos: tolic value of which must some day be restudied in depth. .--indicate that the community has chosen to act exclu-sively for the kingdom of God and not at all for any earthly ~;ellbeing however limited it may be. In. the com-munity, then, men expect to find a delineation of the Church. Hence let us emphasize that far from decreasing the charitable finality of religious institutes, the situation in which religious must work with non-religious actually extends it: the community must not only work itself for the service of love but it must also lead others to act in the same way and under the same explicit motivation. Nevertheless, "today's circumstances are constantly obliging us to think more and more of another way of exercising this mihistry of mercy. In this case the com-munity as such does not take charge of a given institu-tion. Each sister in accord with her professional com-petence is employed wherever she finds-a position corresponding to the specific end of her congregation. Dur-ing the day, then, the community is dispersed, each of the .religious going to her own place of work. There, in com-munion with the militants whom she may find there, each sister in her work tries to be both an instrument of the charity,of God and an active leaven within the laity arousing them to the call of the gospel. Unlike the preced-ing case, she does not pertain to a group performing as such a given function in the establishment. She is sim-ply an employee on the same footing as the rest, and her personal competence is the only reason for her holding the position that she occupies. In accomplishing her work she is not immediately attached to a group of religious working at her side. She is alone. Often she is in an indifferent "milieu, even in one agitated by forces hostile to the Church. It is there that the. Lord asks her to live her vocation as a religious vowed to the exercise of mercy and to do so through the quality of her work and in the network of social bonds that she creates with the men and women who are around her. _ This is a difficult and complex situation. The religious must not lose sight of the primary end of her institute which is charitable work itself. Hence, her central pre-occupation must not deviate from this central point of a direct and immediate relationship with a'man or a woman or a child to be cared for, educated, or aided in some fashion. She is not primarily sent to lead a militant life after the fashion in which Christians of catholic action act. Her mandate is another one, although---and we will return to this--like all the baptized she also has the duty of becoming leaven in her milieu. Let us not forget what we have developed above at length: in the name of Christ and of the Church the bishop has en-trusted to her in a special way the responsibility of radiating charity under the form of mercy, compassion, gentleness, and tenderness in the face of the sufferings and needs of human beings. She must above all seek this: that through her actions (materially resembling those performed by her non-believing neighbor) there may pass the entirely slaecial quality that the love of Christ Himself infuses into human activity. This is not easy, we admit. But if she does not do this, then she no longer responds to what the Church specifically expects from her for the sake of the gospel. And in this case through her defect something essential is lacking to the life of the local church; an entire dimension of the mystery of Christ is veiled; men and women will not experience the sweet-ness of the God and Father of Jesus. At first sight this function may appear to be less efficacious and less direct than the fact of militant action in a milieu for the sake of sowing the gospel message; than the fact of sharing in the struggles and the anguishes of the other employees and of thereby working for their liberation. Nevertheless, her function is just as necessary from an evangelical point of view. She responds to a ministry that is essential to the Church and that completes and consummates that of the other militants. For it is a question of a different form of action of the same love, of a mandate obliging her in communion with that of the militants to make the visage of Christ appear in the small part of mankind entrusted to the bishop for salvation. Hence, in the con-crete circumstances of her action the religious must always subordinate the other forms of her apostolic activity to her charitable function. It is easy to see in this kind of situation the new im-portance taken by what is called the common life. When she returns to her community, the sister should find the spiritual and loving atmosphere that permits her to reground her forces, to nourish herself with the gospel, and to judge her activity in open dialogue with her superiors and her fellow sisters. The hours that she passes each day in the milieu charged with providing her the means to grow in her union with the Lord must not become for her a heavy load encumbered with a multi-tude of oral prayers and with confusedly arranged exer-cises. Neither must it appear in her eyes merely as a slack period offering a little leisure. What it should exactly be is difficult to say. But it is clear that the essential should be an atmosphere of true prayer, of simple and loving joy. The witness of charity is so often dissipated by fatigue and by nervous tension that there should be a strong reaction against everything (even those things ÷ ÷ ÷ Religious Women VOLUME 25, 1966 ÷ ÷ ÷ J. M. R. Tiilard, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]4 clone under the pretext of devotions or of ancient cus-tom) which irritates the sisters. And it would be good if superiors, would re'member that to work to create in their houses an unpressured spiritual atmosphere is the first service that they themselves can give to charity. Up to this point we 'have reflected only on the exercise by religious women of their ministry of charity in the usual situation of the Church today. NOW it is necessary to ask two questions which more and more appear to us to be urgent: Should not religious women be more in-timately and immediately associated with the matter of pastoral reflection, their charisms between taken into equal count in this area? And can not their participation in the ordinary pastoral ministry be enlarged? Before answering the first question, we must frankly remark that up to now the Church has been contented to ~ttilize the charitable action of religious women and has manifested a certain suspicion with what they might be able to contribute to pastoral reflection itself. Our present day pastoral has been elaborated by r.elying almost exclusively on the qualities proper to the mascu-line sex. This can be attributed to various causes: to the fact that according to tradition access to hierarchical orders is reserved to men; to the fact that in the West the Church's ministers are celibates and thereby inclined to mistrust women; and above all to the fact that our civilization has not yet considered with sufficient serious-ness what is represented at the heart of the human mys-tery by the genius proper to ~oman. We are just begin-ning to awaken on this point; and the awakening is often accompanied by certain feel.ings of revindication and of aggression so that it can become dangerous and entirely lose its meaning. Up to now pastoral thought has had the tendency to see everything frdm the masculine View-point as 'if the masculine sex alon~ represented the human or as i~and this is still more serious--it were the human ideal to which the feminine should conform it-self in order to attain any real value. Hence, the con-stant temptation of pastors has been (and often still remains) to consider religious women on.ly as so many servants to be smiled at from the vantage point of the superiority complex of the strong sex and to,be employed at.will in any kind of work; and they have not sufficient.ly considered them as women capable of perceiving with the penetration proper to their sex precise objectives that escape masculine psychology and as capable of grasping with an original insight of their own the con-sequences of certain decisions. This points seems to us to be a very serious one. It seems necessary to us that the Church be converted in this matter. This does not mean that the Church. should admit religious women to a priestly ordination as some persons are beginning to maintain basing themselves exclusively on arguments of rights to be redressed and of sexual egalitarianism. But it means that the Church should become conscious of the irreplaceable contribn-ti0n of feminine thought and that she should associate sisters more closely with the effort of investigation, judgment, and criticism that is needed for the ordering of the pastoral activity of a diocese, How is this to be done? It would take too long to treat this in a detailed and precise manner, Nevertheless, let us remark that it cannot be a question only of a consul-tation taking the natnre, as it were, of feeling the pulse of the situation but without passing beyond the stage of the preliminary. The charism of the hierarch~ demands thatiit al~vays act in communion with the laity, men and Women. The ultimate decision is without a doubt that of the leaders, a typical act of their own proper p.astoral judgment. Nevertheless, it should be born of a delibera-tion in which the laity are involved as much as the clergy in a frank confrontation of viewpoints and in a common sharing of apostolic perceptions and of dif-ferent psychologies. There is no qnestion here either of demagogy or of feminism; it is simply a utilization of different vocations and of different charisms in an at-mosphere of authentic communion. And this seems to us to be the meaning of authority in the Church of God,. It is rare that a pastoral decision is a purely hierarchical creatior~. It is most often nothing else than an assump-tion by the hierarchy--thereby bestowing the weight of its authority and the guarantee of its charism--of a perception arising among the laity who are plunged, into the experience of the real and then thought about, reflected upon, and discussed by their pastors. Moreover, from the viewpoint of kingly power the grace of orders ~is more a grace of prudential judgment than that of intuition. Invention comes above all from the periphery, from the precise point where the Church is in contact with the realism of the human situation. In this way, then, the grace of the laity penetrates even to.the inner nature of the pastoral function. Among the laity we place in a special rank not only the militants of catholic action but also the religious women who are 9fficially devoted to the ministry of charity. At one and the same time they are women--hence they can voice the neces-sary feminine viewpoint--and they are involved in the sufferings of human beings, knowing not only the latter's complexities and temptations but also their riches. If it is true--as we have shown above--that the ministry of charity is bound up essentially with the gospel and repre-sents a fi'ont line force of ecclesial action, then it seems in-÷ + ÷ Religious Women VOLUME 25, 1966 15 -b ÷ J. M. R. Tillard, O;P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 16 conceivable to us that religious women should not be fully associated with the work of apostolic reflection that is p]'erequired for all authentic pastoral action. Moreover, why (and this is our second question) could they not receive in certain circumstances (always in dependence on the bishop, rightly understood) the entire responsibility for the organization of the entire chari-table apostolate of a diocese? In the collection of various areas which we group indistinctly under the name "pas-toral activity," is this not one of the numerous domains where women are more naturally competent than men? Why must a member of the clergy always be the head of every diocesan activity? At a time when we com-plain about the lack of priests and exhaust ourselves in imagining the outcome of this situation, it would seem logical to begin by reflecting on our theology of pastoral action and by asking whether as victims of the sin of clericalism, we have not permitted the atrophying of apostolic energies, among them those of religious women. A number of initiatives, undertaken especially in mission countries, show that urgent necessities are obliging the Church to a profound evolution on this point. The right is conceded to religious women to perform certain acts which up to now custom has linked with the person of the priest: they can distribute Communion, take charge of the liturgical assembly on Sunday, and catechize. The somewhat "sensational" cases should not rivet attention on themselves and thus prevent the Church from per-ceiving the numerous, more ordinary forms of activity which she can officially leave to the genius and the con-science of religious women. We have mentioned here the pastoral work of charity, but the same reasons would be valid for the organization of catechetical activity (on the condition that the sisters in charge be truly com-petent and not content themselves, as too often happens, with a hastily acquired and thin layer of catechetics) and for certain aspects of pastoral activity with regard to the family. A few minutes ago we mentioned the example of the women who set out at dawn to embalm the Body of the Lord and become the first witnesses of His Resurrection. Entirely like Mary, the woman who was the first witness of His Incarnation, they are the witnesses of the silent and hidden activities of God which are, nevertheless, His most fundamental ones. Is not woman even on the physi-cal level the first witness and the first receiver of human life as it comes into existence in secret? There is in this a mysterious harmony, sign of a providential vocation. This vocation is accomplished in the Christian bride whose femininity becomes grace and salvation for her husband and their children. It is accomplished in the contempla- tive nun hidden in silence and burning out her life for the Church. It is also accomplished in the religious woman of the active life who bends over human misery to bring it the most perceptible sign of the tenderness of God. The Christian woman has the marvelous and irre-placeable task of becoming the living sign of the Church as Bride and Mother. It is necessary that our pastoral awaken to this vocation of theirs and respect it for the glory of the gospel and the salvation of the world. + VOLUME 25, 1966 17 JOSEPH FICHTNER, O.S.C. Metanoia or Conversion Joseph Fichthe.r, O.S.C., teaches at Crosier House of Studies; 2620 East Wallen Road; Fort Wayne, Indiana 46805. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 18 Since we religious are living .in an age of Chuich re-newal and reform, we can ask ourselves the question: What are we contributing to this movement? Is the movement likely to succeed if we merely let ourselves passively be swept up into it? Religious orders have a precedent of active participation in the many past Church reforms. They can take their cue from a fairly long list of orders who, somehow or other, were in-strumental in either initiating renewal and reform or carrying them through. Perhaps the most famous instance of a religious order undertaking reform of its monastic life and thereby lead-ing the way to full-scale Church reform is that of the Cistercians. As Father George H. Tavard, A.A., already pointed out in a lecture to major superiors at Den-ver, July 1, 1964, the Lorraine and Cluniac monastic re-forms spearheaded the whole Gregorian reform within the Church 0050-1200). St. Bernard wrote De consider-atione, a pattern of reform for Pope Eugenius III to use upon the administration of the Roman See. In the thir-teenth century, the mendicant movement of Franciscan and Dominican Friars coincided with the reforms of the Fourth Lateran Council and of Pope Innocent III. It is a fact of Counter-Reformation history that the Jesuits with their military structure and educational purpose and the Capuchins with their simplicity and austerity of life implemented the Trentine reform. This historical precedent comes closer to home when we recall that the canons regular followed in the wake of the Gregorian reform, when, for the first time in history, the idea of reform spread to the whole Church. Charles Dereine, S. J., noted how the canons regular helped to revive eremitical life in the thirteenth century,x The eremitical life did not last long among them because it was encroached upon by lay people, especially the conversi, who looked to the eremitical 1 Les chanoines reguliers au DiocOse de LiOge avant saint Norbert (Louvain~ University of Louvain, !952). groups for spiritual guidance and help (cura ani-marum). At their beginnings, after the example of their leaders was sufficient rule, the groups fell under the influence of the Rule of St. Augustine. But the choice of the Augustinian Kule, whenever it was made, engendered a delicate problem of conscience. Should the charter members adopt the canonical customs then in use or return to the primitive ideal of austerity and poverty? This was the step of capital importance in canonical reform. Carolingian law had granted the canons the right of abandoning private property in order to lead an apostolic life. A few groups opted for the new order (ordo horus in contrast to the ordo antiquus), a way of life which was more austere especially in the matter of poverty. Their option was vitally important, if not difficult, in an age of canonical reform. They had the alternative of affiliating themselves with Cistercian communities. I mention this bit of past history because obviously it stands parallel to our own day. Religious are now in a position to maintain the status quo (which eventually will die and decay); to merge with other religious groups who have similar constitutions, customs, and spirit, or at least associate with them in apostolic works (and this is a conciliar recommendation); or to forge ahead with the Church. It is essential for religious today to recognize and evaluate their role within the context of the Christian life. To fail to do so is to become purposeless and nondescript. They can only begin to reform if they knew beforehand why and how and what and whom they are to renew and reform. One of the aims listed for the present reform, in fact the first on the list, is "to impart an ever increasing vigor to the Christian life of the faithful." s Religious must count themselves among the faithful because of their consecration to God through baptism. Over and above baptism, the profession of the evangelical vows is a super-addition to that consecration . It is indeed a special consecration which per-fects the former one, inasmuch as by it, the follower of Christ totally commits and dedicates himself to God, thereby making his entire life a service to God alone.¯ The role of the religious, then, particularly iri a time of spiritual renewal and reform, is to bear witness for the Church socially and publicly by a way of life which "radiantly shines forth" and shows that "the kingdom ¯ Constitution on the Liturgy, n. 1. ¯ Pope Paul VI, dllocution on Religious Life, May 25, 1964. 4- 4- Cor~erslon VOLUME 25~ 1966 ÷ ÷ Joseph Fi~htner, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS of Christ is not of this world." 4 They bear witness by means of the vows, the three signs "which can and ought to attract all the members of the Church to ~an effective and prompt fulfillment of the duties of their Christian vocation.''~ The Decree on Ecumenism dispels any doubt that vows constitute a mere external show; Church renewal demands a change of heart, a renewal of the inner life of our minds, self-denial and an unstinted love.e If religious are to have a leading role in renewing the Church, they must be in the vanguard of :that ',spiritual ecumenism" which amounts to a change of heart, holiness of life, and prayer. One of the characteristics of the present reform move-ment within the Church is the return to original sources, especially biblical and patristic. At the same time that the Church wants to update herself, she is taking a hard look backward at her beginnings. The very idea of reform conjures up the biblical theme of metanoia, repentance or conversion. Throughout salva-tion history, both under the Old and. New Testaments, God repeatedly issues a call to repentance. What re-newal and reform we are experiencing today fits into the biblical background ofmetanoia. The prophets of old--Amos, Hosea, Jeremiah, Ezekiel --were reformers. They called upon the people of Israel. wandering away from Yahweh to "turn back" to him, to "repent." Here we have the original Hebrew notion of reform translated by the Septuagint but especially by the New Testament into the Greek metanoia. A few examples will have to suffice. The prophet Amos enumerates the natural calamities which befall Israel for its sins; and then he quickly adds almost like a refrain: "Yet you returned not to me, says the Lord" (4:6, 8, 9, 10, 11). "In their*affliction [Hosea is speaking for Yahweh], they shall look for me: 'Come, let us return to the Lord, for it is he who has rent, but he will heal' us; he has struck us, but he will bind our wounds' " (6:1). "Perhaps," writes Jeremiah, "when the house of Judah hears all the evil I have in mind to do to them, they will turn back each from his evil way, so that I may forgive their wickedness and their sin" (36:3). Ezekiel adds the note that the Israelites must make for themselves "a new heart and a new spirit" (18:31). The general prophetical teaching was that Israel, having personally sinned against the Lord, should per-sonally repent. Return to Yahweh meant that Israel should be orientated toward Yahweh and His will be-cause He is its God. Basic to repentance .was the de- ¯ Paul VI, ~lllocution on Religious LiIe. ~ Constitution on the Church, n. 44. e Decree on Ecumenism, n. 7. mand that Israel direct its whole existence to God and unconditionally accept Him in all events. To repent was to obey His will, to trust Him absolutely and be cautious about human help (alliances with other na-tions). Repentance had both a positive and negative aspect to it. By returning to Yahweh Israel would take up a new direction but likewise turn away from evil. Real repentance must be an inner renewal, a renewal of life, which is not possible without divine assistance. When we turn to the" New Testament, we find that it retains the past teaching on metanoia but lends empha-sis here and there. There seems to be more insistence upon the positive and interior aspect, that of changing one's mentality, attitude, feeling. Metanoia supposes error in conduct, repentance for past fault, and a con-version of one's whole person to a way willed by God in order to. ready oneself for entrance into His kingdom. Baptism, faith, repentance, love, poverty of spirit, all enter into the nature of metanoia. Metanoia requires personal responsibility coupled with the gift of God. John the Baptist was the first to take up the prophetic cry: "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand" (Mt 3:2; Mk 1:4). The cry, however, is more categorical because given in view of an eschatological revelation. Conversion is for everybody; it must be authentic, a change of nature from within. Jesus too preaches con-version: "Repent and believe in the gospel"; "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand" (Mk 1:15; Mt 4:17). But he goes beyond the Baptist in realizing the eschatological kingdom in His own Person. The purpose of His mission is to bring repentance: "I have not come to call the just, but sinners, to repentance" (Lk 5:32). The. metanoia which Jesus proclaims is really the will of God, a salvific way of life. One enters into such a way of life by converting or changing into a different man (see Mt 18:3). The close tie between monastic reform and the re-form of the entire Church was never better envisioned than by the early Church fathers. In fact, it is possible to trace historically a progression of the idea of reform from what concerns the individual Christian to monastic life and to the universal Church. The idea of reform became effective as a supra-individual force at a rather early date, particularly in monasticism. Within monasti-cism itself there has been a whole series o1: reforms. Today we tend to apply reform first of all to social entities and institutions rather than to individuals. How effective such a sweeping measure can be, remains to be seen. For a broad, ecclesiastical pattern of reform, follow-ing upon the principles already laid down in the Scrip-÷ ÷ ÷ owoersion VOLUME 25, 1966 21 + ÷ ÷ Joseph Fichtner, O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS tures, we have to resort to patri~tic writings. It is impossible, o[ course, to go into anything like a complete survey of their writings, but one can at least gain a few insights from Gerhart B. Ladner's~ monumental work,' The Idea o[ Reform.~ I am indebted to him fo~ the following all-too:brief summary. Ladner draws this definition of reform from Scriptural and patristic sources: "the idea of [ree, intentional and ever perfectible, multiple, prolonged and evdr repeated efforts by man to reassert and augment values pre-existent in the spiritual-material compound of the world." The Greek fathers generally regarded reform as a return to paradise. Baptism begins this reform because it is a return to innocence. Because innocence is often lost and because baptism is unrep~atable, reform is mostly postbaptismal, a long process of many starts. If man is to reform himself, he has to make a conscious pursuit of ends. He starts with an intention rather than with spontaneity or urge or response. The key feature then of Greek patristic reform ideology was the return to a state of innocence through a. continual spiritual regeneration. Man has to be reconditioned into a state equivalent to his original state. Gregory of Nyssa in particular, with his mystical bent, accounted for this development of the Pauline.theme of the "new creature" and "new creation." Now the question, how is man to be renewed, brings us to a consideration of the' second salient feature of reform ideology, a feature found mostly among the writings of the Latin fathers. They proposed that man who originally was made in the image of God should be reformed according to and in the image of God (Christ). Although the early fathers felt that reform meant a withdrawal from the world rather than a penetration of it, or at least a juxtaposition of the sacred and the profane, and hence relied upon monasticism to bring about reform, the idea gradually dawned that the whole Church should undergo reform. St. John Chrysostom, St. Augustine, and St. Hilary of Poitiers were of the earlier mentality. Then under Gregory VII, the idea of reform began to envelop the Church as a whole, and finally Innocent III and Thomas Aquinas extended it to entire Christendom, to the political, socio-economic, and ~ultural milieu which the Church helped to form or in-fluence. Implicit in this idea was the re-imaging of man not only individually but socially. Reforming man to the image-likeness of God was the inspirational idea behind ~Gerhart B. Ladner, The Idea o[ Re[orm (Cambridge: Harvard, 1959). all the reform movements in early and medieval Christianity. A third renewal theme, for which St. Augustine was mainly responsible, was that of the kingdom of God. St. Augustine, ,however, had such a high opinion of the Church as the kingdom of God upon earth which was on its way to becoming the heavenly kingdom that he refused to see any need of its reform. That is why he formulated the idea of the City of God which permits into its environs both sinners .and saints until the sin-ners are weeded out at the-parousia. He and Tertullian (before his defection from the Church) struck a more positive and futuristic note by teaching a' renewal for the better. For Augqstine in particular, fourth century Pelagianism was an occasion to take stock of the ideology of reform. Pelagianism represented a reform movement based upon the belief that man can reform himself and the world on his own. Contrariwise, Augustine fought against the temptation of relaxing personal effort and simply trusting in God. His intention was to strike a balance between God's grace and man's will. Reliance upon God and personal responsibility must go together in order to attain the kingdom of God. In the Christian East and West while the Church was building up, the need was ever felt for individual and social reform. But who was to initiate it? ,Only special members and organisms within the Church's body, namely, monasticism. The East and West differed not merely in reform ideology; they differed too in their attitude toward monastic life. The Greeks leaned strongly toward contemplation, the Latins toward the active life of charity for God and man. The western-minded Augustine mapped out a program of reform for monastic and quasi-monastic life for clerics and lay-people. Such was the principal and practical way in which he wished reform to be carried into effect. The monk-priests and laymen were to join together in the City of God to bring about a renewal for the better. ¯ It is evident from thi~ patristic perspective that re-newal and reform must take into account the past and present and future. If we look back over the condition of religious life since World War II, the thought strikes us. that religious institutes have been passing through a phase of de-velopment. Consciously or unconsciously, they have been engaged in a reform movement for almost twenty years. The movement seerhs to have begun officially with the first ~eneral congress 6f religious held in Rome near the close .of the Holy Year, 1950. At this meeting, on December 8th, Pope Pius XII delivered an allocution in + + + VOLUME 25, 1966 23 ÷ ÷ ÷ Joseph Fichtner, O$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS which he outlined three reasons why religious should update themselves: For the changed c~nditions of the world which the Church must~ encounter, certain points of doctrine touching upon the status and condition of moral perfection, not to mention the pressing needs of the apostolic work which you have so widely and so generously undertaken, all these have called you to devote your-selves to this systematic study and discussion. The same reasons prompted the Sacred Congregation of Religious to summon the First National Congress of Religious of the United States at the University of Notre Dame, August 9-12, 1952. Part and parcel of the whole reform movement within the religious orders were the researches into their past histories. The studies in some instances may not have been altogether conclusive, but at least they pointed out lines of development. They put religious into a position where they have to either retain or reject the essentials of their past, paralleling the present-day Church reform which will not abandon the basic struc-ture of the Church, Religious have to decide what sort of growth they want', homogeneous or heterogeneous. To be or remain a homogeneous body, the religious insti-tute, as the schema De religiosis recommends, must faithfully retain its nature, purpose, special spirit, and sound tradition--everything which constitutes the patrimony of the institute. The historian John Tracy Ellis called attention to this necessity in his address to the Paulists on the occasion of the diamond jubilee celebration of St. Paul's College, Washington, D.C., January 25, 1965. In this era of change he advised "the parallel need of holding fast to a sense of history if we are to escape the consequences, of mere change for change's sake, of what I would call--if the term be allowed---the curse of 'presentism.' " The historical researches accomplished at least one thing: they gave the orders more or less a sense of identity. Erik H. Erikson, the psychologist, defined per-sonal identity as follows: The term identity expresses such a mutual relation in that it connotes both a persistent sameness within oneself (self-same-ness) and a persistent sharing of some kind of essential charac-ter with others. Although his definition fits personal identity, it is analogically applicable to the "moral persons" which re-ligious orders are. A sense of identity is most important for normal psychological and spiritual renewal. The man who cannot identify himself is either an amnesia victim or is ignorant or leads a schizophrenic existence. If young candidates entering a religious order cannot identify themselves with it because there is nothing to identify with, the more is the pity. As Pope Paul VI stated in his address to religious referred to above, the work of general chapters is to accommodate constitutions to "the changed conditions of the times"; but it must be done in such a wa~ that "the proper nature and discipline of the institute is kept intact." No renovation of discipline is to be intro-duced excepting what accords with "its specific pur-pose." Therefore, until this accommodation of discipline is duly processed and brought into .juridic effect, let the religious mem-bers not introduce anything new 0n their own initiative, nor relax the restraints of discipline nor give way to censorious crit-icism. Let them act in such a way that they might rather help and more promptly effect this work of renewal by their fidelity and' obedience. If the desired renovation takes place in this way, then the letter will have changed, but the spirit will have remained the same, in all its integrity,s The Pope certainly did not have in mind the ,idea of implementing constitutions to the point where they are voluminous, minutely detailed, and unlivable; for such constitutions can easily cramp the style of religious liv-ing. "Multiplicity of laws is not always accompanied by progress in religious life," remarked Pope Paul "It often happens that the more rules there are, the less people pay attention to them." 0 It is particularly irksome to men, and I suppose to women too, to be ruled by many minute prescriptions. But in the meanwhile; while the constitutions are under study or revision, it will not do to adopt or maintain "the practices which are dangerous to religious life, unnecessary dispensations, and privileges not properly approved" 10 which sap the strength of religious discipline. Is there a behavioral pattern, psychological and socio-logical, which religious can follow in order to promote metanoia for the present and into the future? Govern-ment and business have had psychological and socio-logical studies made to 'guide societies and institutions toward self-renewal. They have begun to understand the processes, reasons, and conditions for the growth and decline in societies.11 Of course we cannot accept the complete structure and dynamics of reform which they use; but they have been able to outline a good, comprehensive pattern of reform. The following, then, will be some explanation of the principles of self-renewal pertinent to religious orders. Religious orders s Paul VI, Allocution on Religious Life. 9 Paul VI, Allocution on Religious Life. 10 Paul VI, Allocution on Religious Life. 11 See John W. Gardner, Self-Renewal, the Individual and Inno. vative Society (New York: Harper and Row, 1963). VOLUME 251 1966 ÷ 4- 4. ]oseph Fichtner, O.~.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS cannot grow as supernatural cells within the body of the Church unless they accept whole-heartedly the natural (that is, psychological and sociological) dy-namics of growth. 1. A society that wishes to renew and reform itself must first of all know itself. It has a sense of identity. As religious we have, more or less, a self-image. Con-fusedly at least all of us have a picture in our minds of the ideal religious, namely, one who lives a Christlike life as distinct and unique. Now self-knowledge is not a still-life picture but a moving picture of self-develop-ment, a continual search for identity. Ordinarily we find knowing ourselves difficult and inconvenient. Yet the more we have a sense of identity, which we can learn in part from our tradition, the more it helps us to plan our future--what or who we want to become. Young members may at times rebel against a tradi-tional heritage, even if it is only the starting point of their rebellion. 2. This brings us to a second principle very closely allied to the first. Self-i.dentity is largely a matter of knowing our past and having continuity with it. Our present beliefs, attitudes, feelings, values arose out of earlier personality formation, earlier learning and ex-perience, all of which is most difficult to shake off. We are more inclined to trust tradition because we experi-enced it. Historians did us the favor of recalling the past and showing how evolution already took place in it. Historians help religious groups to achieve self-knowl-edge, and in this way they serve the cause of renewal. If religious were able to sustain renewal in the past, per-haps they can feel at home with it in the future. With-out ignoring their past, they are oriented to the future and will have a hand in shaping it. The tendency of a society with a past is twofold: to persist or to change. The two tendencies are not diametrically, opposed. In fact, it is wrong to oppose change to continuity; both must be given due emphasis, Our aim should be to endlessly interweave continuity with change. "The only stability possible is stability in motion." ~ Religious do nonetheless face the danger to-day of living in an age when the rate of change has sped up almost to leaving them in the dust. They can expand or grow or change so rapidly and wildly that it will be cancerous and kill the values they want to keep. 3. True religious see and share a vision of something worth saving. This vision is made up of all the motiva-tion, conviction, commitment, and values that give meaning to their life. Only if they believe in something Gardner, SelpRenewal, p. 7. can they change something for the better. Otherwise they will experience a failure of heart and spirit. The self-renewing religious will have something about which they are thoroughly convinced and about which they care so deeply that they will do something about it. Yet each one must beware of being egocentric about it. One little thing that he really cares about deeply, one little thing that he can do with zealous con-viction, gives him extra drive and enthusiasm. That is why long-term purposes or values or goals are so important for us. They have to be relatively lasting in order to determine the direction of change. Should they be fly-by-night visions and goals, they will not enable us to absorb them or do justice to them or will endanger a distinctive character and style of living. The mature religious has a religious commitment larger than himself. He has been given a religious goal not as an accomplished fact; his has to be a seeking and striving for the goal in an ever-renewing way. He will be happy in the s.triving, not necessarily in the attaining of that goal. Small victories will instill in him some satisfaction but never the idea that he has arrived, that his life is fulfilled, or that he can sit back and no longer feel the tension of self-renewal. All of us have built into our nature the hunger for meaningful, goals. They are as vital to our being as breathing. But in a sense we must breathe together. We can live together in a .religious community o.nly if we have some measure of consensus in regard to our goals, beliefs, values. We can come to some rough agreement among the many who share the same ideals. Haggling over details there will always be. No matter how pluralistic our community may be, variety and di-versity and spontaneity should not be allowed to inter-fere with at least a middle ground of ideals, goals, and visions. We do ourselves an injustice if we allow all sorts of individual values to conflict in a careless atmos-phere of freedom and then expect something good to come from them. Such a procedure is equivalent in economics to the false theory of laissez-faire. On the other hand, change for the better is brought about when socially or communally acquired and ap-proved ideals, convictions, goals change. In this way change takes place according to psychological and socio-logical laws. It is possible to change laws, the external marks of a society, without affecting the beliefs, prac-tices, and values of the members of that society. Men commonly live as they think; hence to change their life demands a conversion of their minds and hearts. Their life is bound to change if the set of ideas, feelings, and ÷ ÷ ÷ VOLUME 25, 1966 27 ÷ ÷ O.~.C, R~:VIEW FOR RELiGiOUS attitudes which the individual shhres with the members of the society changes. 4. Any renewal or reform, therefore, ought to be aimed at the individual or person. He must find himself in a ~ort of do-it-yourself movement. He must be free and independent enough, flexible and versatile enough, to be open to change. If he isolates himself from others within his group, if he fails to cross-fertilize with them, he will not change or grow. Anthropologists point out that .much cultural change comes about through bor-rowing from others. Karl Rahner makes the pointed remark in his book, Theology for Renewal: If anyone wants to have the Church changed, he must make himself the starring-point of renewal. For the crldc himself is part .of what the Church is suffering from. For usually his own life is not much of a recommendation for Christianity.~ The same remark may be applied to the religious critic. We are more prone to criticize others than to be self-critical. Each religious has personality traits which favor either change or persistence (conservatism), and no doubt many have a mixture of the two. A characteristic of the self-renewing religious is that he 'has a mutually fruitful rapport with others. He is capable of accepting and giving love and friendship. Without such love and friendship, the person enters into rigid isolation. The loving and friendly person depends upon others and can be depended upon. He discovers common tastes, interests, is accessible, and is willing to lend assistance. He makes others feel important. In so doing he is one of the many within a vibrant society who inculcate mutual trust, affection, and identification (as opposed to carping criticism, character asshssination, and envy). They are the cross currents through which his change for better is possible~ 5. Is there enough freedom in the religious way of life to allow for change? This question has to be asked because psychologists and, sociologists maintain that only a free society is open to inquiry, experimentation, and action. A society where reasonable room is left for personal taste, self-expression, and self-criticism, will grow. Its framework or structure is not such that it throttles thought and discussion of new ideas. Authori-tarian or bureaucratic or legalist.ic societies may not throttle thought and discussion but they tend to chan-nel and control them. Freedom, however, has to be balanced with some ~Karl Rahner, Theology ]or Renewal (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1964), p. 87. determinism within a society. No individual religious should expect to be left to run rampant, to do as and what he pleases. Freedom may result in license. Or it may alienate him from the community. A religious who is left reasonably free may achieve responsibility; but if he seeks too much autonomy he may end up with self-pride, an inflated ego, and not really fulfill himself at all. Every person has limitations and has to come to terms with his membership in the community at large. The social side of his nature should make him realize values which are grea~er than his individual needs. 6. Change and improvement usually spring up in a community that has felt-needs for them. Felt-needs are the beginning of any renewal and reform. So religious must examine their felt-needs. There can be no metanoia unless the community feels needs, and the needs have to be felt widely enough for the majority to do some-thing about them. The first task of renewal and reform is the always difficult task of facing up to ourselves. What gap do we find between the ideals we profess and the realities we practice? How far apart do our constitutions lie from their fulfillment? We have to give due credit to the prophetic and visionary eyes and minds among us who see and speak out against the unreality or even hy-pocrisy of religious life, to whatever degree they may exist. Young members, especially, who still have the ideals and goals fresh before them, can help the rest to an honest self-examination. We do them a good turn too by telling them that their task is to re-create values in their own conduct and not simply look at them idealisti-cally. We should assure each generation of religious that they have to refight the battle and inject new life into lasting ideals and goals. 7. No amount of organization, law-making, socializing will help a religious society to renew and reform unless men in it have the determination to 'foster renewal and reform. It is men who make up a society, not laws or regulations or structures. It is the personal environ-ment that makes for growth, for between the individual and his environment there takes place something like osmosis. If we do not set a pace by our ideals and ex-ample for incoming members, then they will believe little is expected of them. Of whom much is expected, the chances are that he will expect much of himself. If he is educated and motivated in an atmosphere that en-courages effort, sacrifice, selflessness, it is very likely that he will be affected greatly and respond mightily. We take it for granted that the young religious is a free and responsible individual. He will become in-creasingly responsible if we set up for him a meaning- VOLUME 25, 1966 29 Joseph Fichtner, O~.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ful relationship with larger and higher goals. We help him to free himself fr6m the "prison of utter selb preoccupation" by instructing and leading him to place himself in the free and willing service of these goals and the people aiming at them. In !religious life as well as in any other, family li~e' included, deeds speak louder than words~ Authentic religious conduct preaches a better lesson than 'any homily, sermon, conference, or instruction. None o~ us learns much from principles, but we do emulate people who are high-principled and exemplary. Ordinarily we do not analyze or list the virtues we wish to develop, unless it be during meditation; but we identify our-selves with the people who have virtue. That is why all of us~ young and old, need models in our imaginative life and in our immediate environment, models of what we at our best can be. At the risk of too much repeti-tion, it should be said that what we do communicates moral and spiritual values much more than what we say~ Words are cheap. Action calls for assuming burden-some and sacrificing responsibility. It is a summons to spiritual greatness. . ¯ 8. The danger in religious life is tO think we can progress morally and spiritually without changing psychologically, socially, culturally. Change for the better---evolution and not revolution or historic acci-dent- usually is a slow, complex, unpredictable, some-what risky and painful process. It does not happen by leaps and bounds; it takes time and hard effort. When practices change, they will not be acceptable evenly .throughout a whole community. Some will wel-come them, others resist them. So many factors and their interplay go into change for the better that they make change complex. And the complexity of a changing situation .brings with it a risk. It takes prudent analysis and prognosis to decide whether the risk is reasonably calculable. Members of a society who are "on their toes" and not living "in a rutV will forestall wild and revolutionary change. Historians have shown that long-range changes came about through successive small innovations, most of them unobtrusive and anonymous. People who lived through the innovation would probably admit that they did not know it was happening; But innovators who herald a change with a flourish of trumpets should ex-pect to meet up with attack and opposition. That pain accompanies growth is inevitable; everybody wants to grow and progress but nobody wants the pain that goes with it. 9. The locus of metanoia is the minds and hearts of ~he individual members of the community, in those minds and hearts where there is the hidden potential of zeal, dedic~ition, a sense of. mission, leadership, and a willingness to sacrifice. Members who have closed minds and hearts have lost the capacity for metanoia. For the self-renewing man there is no end to the development o[ his abilities. He is not a gold mine left unti~pped or an oil well only partially drilled. Psychologists advise us of the fact that many go through life without nearly salvaging all their ta, lents.~ Nothing can be so decisive for refiewal as the use of G6~l-given talents. Conversion VOLUME 25, 1966 31 GUSTAVE MARTELET, S.J. The Church's Holiness ¯ and Religious Life + ÷ + Gustave Martelet, s.J., is professor of fundamental theol-ogy at 4, Mont~e de Fourvi~re; Lyon (V), France. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS V. RELIGIOUS L~FE AND PREFERENTIAL LOVE OF JEsus CHRIST The* eschatological character of virginity contributes spiritual depth to our understanding of religious life; we must now analyze the latter in still greater detail. Having begun by considering the holiness of the Church (I), which appeared inseparable from her mystery as Spouse (II), we saw that marriage represents sacramentally a mys-tery whose content is spiritually appropriated by virginity (III). This insight illuminated the eschatological meaning of virginity and exposed its motivating drive, a preferen-tial love of Christ (IV). This love throws the greatest light on religious life, and it is in function of that love that our first comprehensive glance at the state must be cast--the concern of the present section. We shall examine the na-ture of religious life'in iiself, its dependence on the mys-tery of the Church, and the significance which consecrated virginity retains today with regard to religious life. 1. Nature o[ Religious Life We do not pretend to supply an exhaustive treatment of this vast subject, for that would simultaneously entail a consideration of the history of the Church, of canon l~aw, * This is the second part of Raymond L. Sullivant's translation of Saintetd de l'Eglise et vie religieuse (Toulouse: Editions Pri~re et Vie, 1964). The first part of the translation appeared in the November, 1965, issue of the REvzE\v; and the rest of the translation will be printed in the March, 1966, issue. When completed, the entire trans-lation will be issued by the REvmw in a clothbound edition. Notifica-tion of the date o~ publication of the clothbound edition will be made to all those who send a request for this notification to R~vmw ro~ R~mmos; St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas 66536. The request for this notification does not constitute an order for the book and in-volves no financial obligation. of liturgy, and of dogma; but we shall present its meaning from the viewpoint which we have set for ourselves.04 When considering the importance of virginity in the thought of the fathers, we must resist the temptation to construct a strict parallel between that state and the re-ligious life and to reduce the one state to the other. The adoption o.f this excessive view is done from a de-sire to augment the grandeur proper to virginity. While we have seen why there is little danger of overestimating its value, still a careful analysis establishes that virginity founds the order of virgins and not the religious life as such. To be sure, the history of consecrated virginity as that of widowhood with whicti it has much in common05 eventually meshed with the history of religious life itself. But regardless of the progressive absorption of the order of virgins into that of nuns, a fundamental difference pre-vents the loss of their separate identities: religious life re-quires and consecrates not so much virginity as chastity. We a,re grateful to Father Mogenet for an unpublished ex-planation of the point: Since St. Paul's day, the Church has had a too sensitive awareness of the virginal dignity of Jesus and our Lady not to recognize its exemplarity. She has exalted the charism of Virginity and has honored Christ's virgins who have been mem-bers of the Christian community since the first century. Never-theless, when religious life developed as the more or less con-scious response to the three evangelical counsels, no one thought of restricting it to virgins. The deserts, as later the monasteries and the convents, received converted sinners, married men, widowers, and the chaste single as well. And al-though virginity is a privileged state in following Christ, it is not an indispensable condition. It would seem that St. Peter had been married. We can almost say that Christ's call takes no account of the past. It draws the hearer from family life, from the project of founding a home, to the sacrifice of human love. The summons commits the aspirant to a continent exist-ence which requires perfect chastity as its normal state. This condition permits religious life to become, for those outside its ranks and most notably for the married, the support and model which it should always be.~0 Conse-quently, it is clear that religious life cannot be reduced to virginity alone. For even as the value of the latter arises ~ On this point a generally recognized role is played at the present time by Father Ren~ Carpentier's book, Li]e in the City oI God (New York: Benziger, 1959); the volume has the merit of never separating evangelical perfection and the mystery of the Church. m Andr~ Rosambert, La veuve dans le droit canonique jusqu'au xiv~ si~cle (Paris: Dalloz, 1923); on the status of consecrated virgins during the fourth and fifth centuries, see, for example, Jean Gaude-met, L'Eglise dans l'Empire romain (iv"-v~ siOcles) (Paris: Sirey, 1958), pp. 206-11. ~ Bishop Huyghe, whose writings on religious life are well known, put a great emphasis on this point in his speech to the Council on re-ligious life; see D.C., v. 60 (1963), col. 1590-1. ÷ ÷ ÷ Religious Li]¢ VOLUME 2S, 1966. ÷ Oustave Marteleg, S.I. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS from the preferential love of Christ which consecrates it, love can vow true chastity to Christ even when virginity has been humanly destroyed. Recognition of the prefer-ential love of Christ is equally important for a proper un-derstanding of poverty and obedience. Christ's call can be directly traced to His command to sell all one's goods (Mt 19:21); and the example of St. Francis as well as that of Father de Foucauld emphasizes the close relationship that unites poverty to love of the Poor One par excellence, Christ Himself. The same can be said of obedience. Whether obedience is linked with the demands of common life lived in conformity with the vita apostolica,6z or whether it is explained (as was done in the Rule of the Master adopted by St, Benedict) with reference to the role of the abbot as Christ's "vicar" in ac-cord with St. Luke 10:16: "Who hears you, hears me," or whether obedience is primarily envisioned as an "imita-tion" of Christ in His dependence on His Father as ex-pressed in St. John 6:38: "I have come down from heaven not to carry out my own will but the will of him who sent me," 68 makes no difference: in every one of these view-points, obedience is an integral part of religious life even though the present canonical form of the vow of obb-dience dates only from Carolingian times.69 Nevertheless, in its case also condition and essence must not be con-fused. Obedience, as poverty and chastity, is a sine qua non condition of the religious life. But can we say that it is its very content? The answer is yes, to the degree that by its suppression religious life would be emptied of one of its specific obligations. But the answer is no, if by mak-ing obedience the content of religious life one comes to forget that religious obedience attains its goal only by as-suring the reign of the will of Christ over our own will. Hence the organized exercise o£ the three counsels truly manifests the nature of religious life but only to the exact extent that this exercise reposes directly upon the love of the Lord, aims at imitating Him, and~emanates from His mystery through the power of the Spirit. The explana-tion, previously established when defining the eschatolo-gical meaning of virginity, should help us understand the ¯ z M.-H. Vicaire, L'imitation des Apdtres. Moines, chanoines, raen. diants (iv~-xiii~ si~cles) (Paris: Cerf, 1963). ~s De Vogii6, La communautd et l'abbd, pp. 128-9. n~ Catherine Capelle, Le voeu d'obdlssance des origines jusqu'au xii~ si~cle. Etude juridique (Paris: Librairie g~n6rale de droit et jurispru-dence, 1959), pp. 153-79, dates the juridical birth o£ the vow o[ obe-dience from a Chapter of 789; but as she remarks on pp. 208-13 it is necessary to wait for Yves of Chartres in the eleventh cer~tury for a theory of the vow over and beyond the practice of obedience. On the . relationship of the three vows to religious life see the discourse of Paul VI given on May 23, 1964 in the English translation, REVIEW KELtg~OUS, V. 23 (1964), pp: 700--1. point, since the spiritual basis of virginity is the desire to belong to Christ in an absolutely exclusive fashion. A point raised by the rule of St. Benedict in its fourth chap-ter, "The Instrument of Good Works," is of utmost per-tinence in this matter: "Nihil amori Christi praeponere," says the great legislator: "Put nothing before Christ's love." The axiom comes directly from the Vita Antonii. St. Anthanasius there depicts St. Anthony "repeating to all that they should desire none of the world's goods in preference to the love of Christ." 70 One wouId search in vain to find this central idea expressed with more lapidary compactness. And who would be better authorized than St. Benedict to condense western monasticism's raison d'etre into a concise formula? The same thought appears in the seventy-second chapter of the rule to explain the ardent zeal which monks should have: "They will prefer absolutely nothing to Christ who deigns to conduct us all to eternal life." 71 And it is the eschatological note that gives such complete fullness to the formula. It is because Christ "is the beginning, the first-born from the dead (that in everything he might be preeminent)" (Col 1:18) that nothing must be put before Christ and that one should die to everything rather than die to Him who is Life itself. Hence His priority as the Lord over all things and over ourselves--"Everything is yours but you are Christ's and Christ is God's" (1 Cor 3:2)--must be trans-lated on the level of love by an exclusive preference for His Person and by an unconditional desire to follow and imitate Him alone. Accordingly, all monastic life, as all religious institutes afterwards, crystallizes around the practice, of the three evangelical counsels with a view to assuring the rigorous ascendancy of Christ's ways over those of the world. Since Christ is completely despoiled of material goods (He "has not a stone on which to rest his head" [Mt 8:20]), since His own relationship with others does not take carnal generation into account ("Who is my mother and who are my brothers?. Whoever does the will of my Father who is in heaven, he is my brother, my sister, and my mother" [Mt 12:48]), and since He does not exercise His liberty except by delivering it up to the will of His Father (Jn 6:38), religious life will accordingly be defined as a ca-nonically determined break (even if it is not always spir-itually accomplished), with the possessions of the world by poverty, with carnal generation and conjugal love by ~o P.G., v. 26, col. 865 A, a citation derived from the previously men-tioned unpublished work of Father Mogenet. On the Athanasian au-thenticity of the Vita Antonii, see Louis Bouyer, La vie du saint ~lntoine (Saint Wandrille: Editions de Fontenelle, 1950), pp. 15'-22. ~ Citations of the Rule of St. Benedict are made according to the text of Dom Philibert Schmitt. + Religious Lile VOLUME 25, 1966 Ousta~e Mar~eleg, Sd. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS chastity, with personal hegemony over self by obedience. This triple rupture defines, by way of three complemen-tary means, a unique and single preference which should e~]ectively animate the religious' entire being, And if man is, in effect, a relation to nature through possession, a re-lation to the other thr~ough love, and a relation to sell through liberty, then poverty, chastity, and obedience are the triple condition of one and the same preference: the preference for Christ over all the goods of the world', sac-rificed to Him who appears as the One Necessity, the pref-erence for Christ over carnal generation, and even more so over conjugal love, sacrificed to Him who appears as Love itself, the preference for Christ over our own indi-vidual liberty, sacrificed to Him who appears as the only Lord. Understood in this manner, religious !ire is the applica-tion of the call: "Come follow me," in which tradition has always seen the principle of life according to the coun-sels. Directed to the rich young man in Galilee (Mt 19:21), Jesus' personal summons is ceaselessly repeated by the Spirit in the ever present reign of the resurrected Christ: On the basis of a love for the Lord of glory alone, the Spirit founds the movement of grace that is religious life. As a way of life in keeping with the evangelical counsels and canonically defined within the Church, religious life is first of all the choice of an end and only secondly a sys-tem of means. It is a response which presupposes a call, a canonical institution commanded by a spiritual love.It becomes an institution only because it was first an inspira-tion; it becomes the letter of a rule only because it was first the spirit of the Gospel. And if it is true that the counsels themselves are still a letter when isolated from the Spirit from which they live,r2 it is also true that the letter of religious life takes form from the letter of the Gospel only by the charismatic mediation of the Holy Spirit Himself. Religious life assumes a bodily form only when the Spirit breathes into souls the soul of the Gospel. This soul is none other than the spiritual preference of Christ over all things in keeping with the words of St. Benedict cited above: "Put nothing before the love of Jesus,Christ." r~ By constructing this formula for his sons and for all of those who would hear the faithful echo of the Gospel through i(, St. Benedict initiated his followers into the well,founded hope of "eternal life," that is to say, of "the life lived forever with the Lord," the anticipation" 7a Dom Lafont gives strong insistence to this point in the work cited in footnote 7, pp. 170-83. ra On the centrality of Christ in the gospel message see de Grand-maison, Jesus Christ, v. 2 and v. 3, pp. 3-346; and R. Guardini, Das Wesen des Christentums (Sth ed.; W0rzburg: ~Werksbund-Verlag, 1958). of which is the proper mission of religious life in the Church. By this preferential love of Jesus Christ, religious life, far from living in isolation from the Church, enters, as does virginity, into her most profound being and shows itseff subject to her. 2. Religious Life's Dependence on the Church We are speaking here of the whole Church for the serv-ice of which religious life exists, as we shall see in the last section. But for the present we wish to consider in a gen-eral way the essential dependence of religious life on the hierarchy and on the Christian community itself. By first drawing attention to marriage and its dependence on the Church, we shall better understand the position of reli-gious life. A. The Church and the Christian Couple Many of the faithful are indignant (and some of them ventilate their dissatisfaction in the daily press) over the fact that the Church through her magisterium wishes to impose a conjugal ethic on them. Although there are sometimes unjustified clerical probings into the private lives of couples, this indiscretion is not the object of the litigation. The latter arises from the Church's right to is-sue obligatory laws in the conjugal order. Contraception is not the only sensitive area; problems of a similar na-ture cluster around the subject. We do not propose here to solve any of these problems but only to indicate the spirit with which the intervention of the Church in such matters is to be accepted. In so doing, we shall contribute to the understanding of the relations that exist between the Church and religious life. Christian marriage is the sign of the 'union of Christ and the Church. The spousal charity of Christ and the Church must consequently be reflected in marriage if it is to obtain the transparency of a sign. To avoid saying that Christ has not assumed flesh in its entirety, we must recognize that all flesh must bear the mark of Christ and exercise that paradoxical docility which the Spirit de-mands of it. Christian conjugal ethic is dominated by this end. It has no other reason for being than to assure to the human love of the partners that spiritual clarity befitting the sacramentality of their love. Christianity assumes re-sponsibility for the most authentic prescriptions of human ethics; but in making them both more urgent and more imprescriptible, it demonstrates the need for transparency which the sign should have and the latter's ability in Christ to follow Him. That is why no home can be more human or purer, more united or freer, more self-sac-rificing or happier, humbler and more transfigured, than the home in which the light of Christ shines and where 4- 4- 4- "Religious Life VOLUME 25, 1966 . Gustave Martelet, ~,. $~1. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS His flame burns. It is thu"s apparent ~hat the Church can never sacrifice the conjugal ethic since the human love of the baptized must reflect, even in the flesh, the sanctity which she represents. The objection of those Christians who maintain that the Church cannot pronounce on :subjects which Chris~t did not discuss is indeed fragile. Christ's sile,nce, while ap-parently impressive, is quite relativ6 when one reflects on the manner in which He spoke'of tl~e indissblubility of the conjugal bond (Mt 19:9) a~nd of foregoing the works of the flesh "in view of the kingdom of heaven" (Mt 19:22).' Even if Christ had~ not.spoken, one could not declare the Bride in.competent tq d~e~fine :t,he standards "of the Gyoom to those who represent the mystery itself. Christ. would have shown little respect for His Bride, in fact, He wohld have shown outright distrust for her and lack of faith in the:intuitions of which His Spirit is the .guarantee, if He had not endowed His Church with the. right and the duty "to.speak" in an area where the bridal mysyery which she lives directly orientates the spi.ritua! underst.a.ndin~ of the couple's love. Yet the Church's authority does not sup-plant Christ in His mystery. The 'former relies on the lat-ter; she thus rejoins the profound life of her children--a life which is sometimes resisted but never denied: The latter know that they will never truly communicate with Christ through their love if ~they reject the manner in which the Church forms and guides their consciences. B: The Church and P~eligious Life If she takes so much care with regard to the sacrament of marriage, the sign of her bridal mystery, the hierarchi- Cal Church watches nb less jealously over religious life: If in the free holiness of the married she wishes to see 'the bldssoming of an image of what they become in and by th~ sacrament, she cannot be disinterested in ~hose Who pretend not only to represent but to spiritually actualize the v.ery love. of the Bride as it is directed in its entirety toward the Groom. The Church's ~igilance over the sac-ramental ~ign of her nupti_als in marriage can only be re-doubledin the case of the spiritual~ fulfillment 9f thesd huptials in religious life. The lat~er trul)i exist~ in the .Chu.rch~.only when i.t is discerned; judged, a~proved, con-trolled, 'su~pb.r~ed, afid'criticized.'lS)i hier~irchical action, 1.oc.al" orsupr~me;, of which it ~an neither atiempt nor de-s~ re to be free. ¯ This essential function as judge" and. guardian is never brought t~o fulfillment not only because human weakness is forever prone to compromise :what gener'osity 'in th~ SpirivoHginal]y envisage~l and ~romised but a'l~o b~cause ~ov~'g" ingpi~a~ion Wtiic-l~ giv'e~"-'birfl~ ~0 ~eligioh~ life" ig never dulled and because from the flight to the desert to the ransom of captives, from the highest conte.mplation to the most obscure nursing service, from ancient Carm.el to. modern Nazareth, from the monastic 9rders to the secu-lar institutes, the Bride must al.ways discern the various ways" in which the Groom inspires her through her chil-dren. Let it suffice to state that religious life, charismati-cally given to the Church by Chrigt Himself, exists in the Church only as canonically submissive to her law. More-over, if this strict submission does not des.troy religious life but~ rather makes it flourish, the reason is that throUgh this submission religious life finds its own truth. Publicly "recognized" by the Church as a privileged "way of holi-ness, religious life understands itself as the flowering within the Church of the Bride's mystery of loving re-sponse to the Groom's love. Religious life's dependence on the mystery of the Church is not only hierarchical but is also connected with the entire Christian community. The evangelical coun-sels which mold religious life do not make the pi:eferen-tial love of Christ become a monopoly of the monastery. Every Christian--and, strictly speaking, every man--is called to this love; and the precepts of the Sermon on the Mount are directed to every member of die Church "as the norm for the moral conduct of the baptized." 74 While' it is true that as far as the manner of loving Chri~ alcove all things and of thereby entering into the love of God is concerned religious life represents a privileged state, still it is of absolute necessity for no one. Although pos-sessing a universal value of exemplarity, it is imposed only on some, and then by a determined vocation. Holiness is never automatically assured those who commit themselves to this way of the vows; and there is no doubt that many Christians remain more faithful to Christ in the world than certain religious do in ,their monasteries or convents. Hence, religious have no grounds for' Complacendy or for a disparaging attitude toward those who are not mem-bers of religious life. The person who becOmes a religious enters a state of life which he may be unworthy hence humility is necessary for him--but which of itself initiates him into a perfect love of Christ--hence depre-ciation by Christians of such a life is impossible. Religious life, then, does not exist in order to divide the Church b~ absUrd rivalries over the better and the less good but on!y in order .that, the sovereign love of "Christ may increase and'that the life of the vows may assume at the depths of it-self the evangelical traits of the Lord. Never regarding it-self as opposed or superior to anyone, religious life must always be at the service of all men by means of those who ~* Lafont, "$aintet~ du peuple de Dieu," p. 1~5. + + + Religious Life~ VOLUME 25, 1966 39 ÷ ÷ ÷ Gustave Martelet, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS attempt to live it out and who take care not to betray .its ideals. Such is the dependence of religious life on the Church for the service of which it is born and must perdure. It is judged by the. hierarchy with a view to benefiting the common spiritual good of the entire Church. Like con-jugal life (and because it refers to One and the same mys-tery but in a different way), religious life cannot destroy its dependence on the Church as a whole, whether it be a question of the hierarchy who judges it and supports it in its fundamental inspiration or whether it be a mat-ter of the faithful whom it should stimulate to the love of tile Lord and by whom it is itself stimulated: "God or-ganizes his holy ones for the work of the ministry in view of the building up the body of Christ, until we all attain (o the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ" (Eph 4:12-~). Hence, despite (or, more accurately, because of) its integration into the life of the Body, religious life retains an irreducible original-ity which we shall have occasion to discuss later. This originality, which integrates religious life into the Body while simultaneously differentiating it, does not suggest separation or exclusiveness. This is why its full canonical development does not prevent the possible renewal of forms which historically preceded it. C. Religious Life and Virginity or Consecrated Widowhood It is easy to understand why the order of virgins and widows was practically absorbed into that of nuns during the course of history. When reading the recommendations to virgins and consecrated widows made by St. Jerome, St. Ambrose, or St. Augustine,75 to limit our consideration to the western fathers, one receives the impression, con-firmed by history, that these women be.longed to a state of life in which equilibrium was maintained with diffi-culty. A certain kind of exterior protection was lacking to many of them, and thht "sweet odor of Christ" which initially stimnlated their resolutions sometimes evapo-rated in lamentable circumstances. By endowing Christian generosity and the desire to consecrate oneself to Christ with a defined monastic framework, religious life quite ¯ naturally almost completely absorbed the order of virgins and that of consecrated widows which were formerly overexposed to many dangers. Spiritual situations, which 75 For example, Cyprian, Liber de habitu virginum (P.L., v. 4, col. 439-62; Ambrose, De virginibus (P.L., v. 16, col. 187-232), De virgini-tare (ibid., col. 265-302); Augustine, De sancta virginitate, (P.L. v. 40, col. 412-28). On widowhood, see Ambrose, De viduis (P.L., v. 16, col. 233-62); Augustine, De bono viduitatis (P.L., v. 40, col. 4~II-50). were still unstable, thereby received a precise form. This was a good thing from one aspect, but frdm one aspect only. For a valuable diversity thus tended to disappear even though there do exist within the Church Christian individuals or groups who without becoming conventual religious consecrate their virginity or widowhood to the Lord. This non-conventual exercise of religious consecra-tion of self has regained favor in our day to an unusual degree. Many Christian women,TM desirous of living their bap-tismal regeneration in the form of absolute consecration to Christ, receive no call to abandon the world where family, children, profession, business, .and situation ex-pect and demand of them a daily, total devotedness. In the minds of these Christians the consecration of their vir-ginity or widowhood to Christ does not necessarily iden-tify itself with the practice of leading a religious life apart from the world's structures. Without criticizing those who follow a more classical road to perfection, they demand little more than the three vows of religious life to express their gift of self to the Lord. Their borrowings may also include certain organizational aspects of life and the tone of a definite spirituality, but they do not usually exceed these features. They desire to take religious life from its conventual conditions in order to implant it in the world --which that state had justifiably abandoned in the be-ginning. The reasons justifying this abandonment of the world and assuring to convent and cloister their incon-testable values (though these have not always been uncon-tested) thus permit the conception of new forms of reli-gious life. The spiritual break with the world which should always characterize religious life can operate in an entirely interior fashion without imposing a rupture that may be described as a sociological or, better still, a conventual one. On the contrary, the structures which are most typical of the world can become the condition of a highly intense though less apparent form of religious life. In all this the ideal of the secular institutes is recog-nized. The latter represent one of the most original ex-pressions of religious life in the Church today.77 Duly 76 Cardinal L~ger reminded the Council of this fact. He also in-sisted on the fact that there should not be too rapid an identification of consecrated virginity with religious life: there are persons who de-sire the first but who perhaps are incapable of the second (D.C., v. 60 [1963], col. 1593). This was doubtless the meaning also of the re-marks of Bishop Huyghe (D.C., v. 60 [1963], col. 1594). r~ For an overall view of the matter see Jean Beyer, Les instituts s~culiers (Bruges: Descl~e de Brouwer, 1954). Consult also the same author's "La vocation s~culi~re," Nouvelle revue th~ologique, v. 86 (1964), pp. 135-57, where complementary data are given On the situ-ation of secular institutes at the present time. On Father Beyer's book see the remarks of Father Carpentier, "Les instituts s~culiers," Nou- 4. 4" Religious Li]e VOLUME 25, 1966 41 encouraged by Roman authority,rs this new state is em-barking, it is our belief, upon other realizations which it virtually contains and which go back to ancient formulas whose significance is by no means exhausted. The term "secular institutes" designates greatly differ-ent kinds of groups.79 Besides such institutes as Opus Dei which has the attractiveness of large-scale dimensions, there are other groupings whose aims and methods are more modest. The members ofthese latter groups think less in terms of vast, extensive actions than in those of an unreserved gift of self to the Lord; their way of life calls to mind more the reed than the oak. Since the end pur-sued in these groupings is less the secularization of reli-gious life than the consecration of profane existence, many specifications of religious life which are and no doubt should be characteristic of secular institutes appear less necessary to these groups. Thus, in the absence of common life, the observance of obedience and poverty is difficult of realization. Furthermore, obedience and pov-erty, even when maintained for good reasons, would imply in these groups a dependence and control which are not indispensable for the spiritual ends envisaged by the members of these groupings. Accordingly, the different positio.n taken up with regard to certain modalities of the religious life formally considered does not arise from a weaker desire for Christian perfection nor from an initial lukewarmness; it is rather the result of a different inspi-ration. It is not a question of criticizing the values of re-ligious life or of protesting the help to be found in reli-gious life, whether conventual or secularized; it is rather a matter of consecrating virginity or widowhood to the Lord while allowing freedom from many determinations which this consecration has assumed within the frame-work of religious life properly so-called ~and which con-tinue to characterize--legitimately so--secular institutes. The desire to return to formulas less rigid even than those of these institutes is the desire (and it is not necessarily chimerical) to return to the ancient formulas of conse-crated virginity and widowhood. Gustave Martelet, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS velle revue thdologique, v. 77 (1955), pp. 408-12. And see the more re-cent remarks of Karl Rahner who clearly shows that members of secular institutes are, in the Church, genuinely religious even though in and for the world they are lay persons (Theology Ior Renewal [New York: Sheed and Ward, 1964], pp. 147-83). ~s The two fundamental documents are those of Pius XII: Provida Mater of February 2, 1947, and Primo [eliciter of March 12, 1948; English translations in T. Lincoln Bouscaren, S.J., and James I. O'Connor, s.J., The Canon Law Digest Ior Religious, v. 1 (Milwaukee: Bruce, 1964), pp. 143-55 and 157-61. ~ At the end of Father Beyer's book on secular institutes will be found a list of fifty-eight existing groups with a brief description of each. We have already mentioned the weaknesses shown in the past by this way of life, weaknesses.that necessitate a real sense of prudence in this matter. But the present sit-uation is not entirely the same as that of past ages. Reli-gious life has benefited from centuries of experience; it exercises a decisive influence on the effort of every Chris-tian to reach perfection. Accordingly, what in past ages religious life would have reduced to itself, it can now re-frain from absorbing, allow to grow, and even protect in its own way. In this way virginity and consecrated widow-hood could regain their own particular status outside of conventual or secularized religious life and beyond that life Of the baptized that retains all legitimate Christian rights with regard to marriage. Being canonicaIly more supple than any known form of religious life and at the same time having the spiritual seriousness of a complete giving of self to the Lord in the Spirit of the gospel, con-secrated virginity and widowhood would then represent in our world a way of pertaining to the Lord to which Christians, not well adapted for religious life, could feel themselves called in order to live an intense life centered on Christ and the gospel and based on a total consecra-tion of self which spiritually transforms one's life without modifying it socially. A similar procedure which could revive in the twen-tieth century one of the most venerable but also most threatened institutions of Christian spirituality would suppose a profound renewal of schools of spirituality gathered around the great orders, both monastic and apos-tolic. By remaining or becoming centers of a profound religious spirit aiad by renouncing any control which would in any way limit the freedom of action of the men and women who seek a support that is purely spiritual, religious orders could provide an enormous service to Christian women, to speak only of them, by offering them a permanent and profound consecration of self to Christ in the world without entering the religious life in the proper sense of the word. For the sake of concretizing the matter, is it necessary to say that the matter discussed here is that of a profound renewal of third orders and of "third congregations"? Yes, if one wishes to put it that way; but the renewalmust be a radical one permitting the spiritual training that is given to take complete account of modern conditions of life; furthermore, the spiritual heritage drawn upon must provide souls with a truly profound in-troduction both to the Lord to whom they consecrate themselves and to the world for the benfit of which Christ frees them. Although these possibilties are offered only as sugges-tions, still the preceding considerations concerning simi-larities and differences between consecrated virginity and Religious Liye VOLUME 25, 1966 43 ~ustcwe Martele~ S.I. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS religious life supply a foundation for them. Forms of con-secration to Christ are of an infinite diversity within the Church. Some of them are completely new; others reclaim ancient practices and endow them with :a new spirit. It is to the latter type ~hat adaptation of secular institute formulas for the purpose of consecrated virginity and widowhood is related. In this the approbation of the Church will be necessary; but so also will be the inspira-tion of the Holy Spirit whose preeminent role at the very base of religious life must now be explicitly considered. VI. LOVE OF CHRIST AND THE MYSTERY OF THE SPIRIT The role of the Spirit is irreplaceable in acquiring the love and knowledge of Christ: "No one can say: 'Jesus is Lord' except by the action of the Holy Spirit" (1 Cot 12:3). In order to understand the true sources of religious life in the Church, it is therefore necessary to speak first of the Spirit as the revealer of Christ. The point is an es-sential one in Scripture. After Pentecost, when St. Peter announced the identity .of Jesus for the first time in Jeru-salem, he cried: "Let all the house of Israel, therefore, know assuredly that God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified" (Acts 2:36). But before reaching this conclusion, St. Peter had already ex-plained: "This Jesus God raised up, and of that we all are witnesses. Being therefore exalted at the right hand of God, and having received from the Father the promise o[ the Holy Spirit, he has poured out this which you see and hear" (Acts 2:32-3). It is thus the effusion of'the Spirit by Christ which reveals His own glorification and which even constitutes it in a certain way. Jesus is riot the Lord with-out being, in keeping with this title, the One who gives us the Spirit. The Son's glorification by the Father in the Resurrection and His dispatch of the Spirit from the Father are two aspects of the mystery that are rigorously correlative as the Gospel explicitly proclaims: "Neverthe-less, I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Counselor will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you" (Jn 16:7). And similarly: "But when the Counselor comes whom I shall send you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who pro-ceeds from the Father, he will bear witness to me" (Jn 15:26). o The dissensions raised by these texts--and others to ¯ which we shall refer later--is well known. The Orthodox interpret them as a guarantee of the complete dependence of the Son and the Spirit in regard to the Father, while we see in them the acknowledgement of the equality which the Son receives from the Father with regard to the eternal procession of the Spirit. It is the Filioque quarrel on which we shall not delay,s° We have mentioned the matter, however, since it is not without pertinence, usu-ally unperceived, to our subject. For while insisting more than our Orthodox brothers on the eternal role of the Son in the procession of the Spirit, we mugt not fail to remember the complementary role of the Spirit in refer-ence to the Son. The point is as vital to the theology of the processions as it is to the economy of the missions,sl And in fact, if it is true that the spiration of the Spirit cannot be understood without relating it to the Son in eternity since the ~piration is nothing else then the act by which the Spirit owes to the Father and to the Son His eternal existence as a divine Person, it is also true that we risk overlooking the light which the existence of the Spirit sheds in its turn on that of the two other Persons. For the Father would not be the Father of such a Son, who is con-substantial, that is, equal in nature to His Father, and the Son would not be the Son of such a Father, capable of communicating His own undivided divinity to His Son, if the One and the Other were not associated "spirators" of the Spirit. It is because the trinitarian life reaches completion in the procession of the Spirit that it can also begin in and by the generation of the Son. The entire mystery of the Father and the Son is found in that of the Spirit who results from their love and who is their very love, the eternal sign of what can be called His transcend-ent possibility. The trinitarian mystery is really conceiv-able only because it is the mystery of a God "who is Spirit" (Jn 4:24). For a better understanding of the trini-tarian mystery, it is not sufficient to say that the Son re-ceives from the Father the power to spir~ite the Spirit un-less one immediately adds that the Spirit, spirated by the Father and by the Son acting in common, is also the meas-ure and the sign of the unfathomable mystery which en-velops both and to which initiation would be impossible unless the Spirit Himseff were given us. It was to arrive at this truth that we took the preceding detour through trinitarian theology, for we could not truly know the Son and through Him the Father, in the revealing economy of the Incarnation and of the Church, unless the Spirit played His irreplaceable role of revealer and witness of Christ for us. It is this central point of view which we shall now attempt to illuminate. 1. The Mystery o[ the Spirit in His Relation to Christ + ÷ A. Necessity of the Spirit in Understanding Christ The temptation to believe that Christ could be reduced to purely human dimensions is not a chimerical one. "Is See Appendix A. See Appendix B. Religious Lile VOLUME 25, 1966 ÷ Gustave Martelet, . $.1o REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS he not Jesus, son of Joseph, whose father find mother we know?" the Jews asked (Jn 6:42). And it is true that Hi~ human accessibility enters into Hisl role of Mediator. "That which we have heard,, which we have seen wi~h "our eyes, which we have looked upon and to~tched with our hands, concerning the word of life, we announce to you" (1 Jn 1:1-2). It is in this way that Jesus reveals to man "what noeye has seen nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived--what God hhs prepared for those who,,love him" (1 Cot 2:9 citing Is 64:3). This human accessibility o'f Christ, and through Him of the Father, is the very con-dition of revelation and is in a way identified with it. Not only did Jesus say: "No one comes to the Father except by me" (Jn 14:6); but He made the even more radical statement: ".Philip, who has seen me has seen the Father" (Jn 14:9). Hence,.it is evident that God's revelation in Christ .supposes the humanity of the Son who through that humanity takes on our own. But His humanity is precisely the humanity of the Son; accordingly, one does not enter the trinitarian mystery through it without hav-ing been introduced into it by the Father. "No one comes to me," said Jesus to the Jews, "unless the Father draws him" (Jn 6:44). And to Peter who had just recggnized and confessed Him as "the Christ, the son of the living God," Jesus declared: "Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jona! For flesh and blood have not revealed this to you but my Father who is in heaven" (Mt 16:17). It is "not of flesh and blood" but of the Father in the gift which He makes us of the Spirit. Jesus' words concerning the Paraclete in St. John have the same meaning. It is good that Jesus departs in order that the Spirit may come making it truly possible to know Jesus: "These things I have spoken to you, while I am still with you. But the Counselor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you" (Jn 14:25-6). And Jesus also said: "I have yet many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own authority, but whatever he hears he will speak, and he will declare to you the things' that are to come. He will glorify me, for he will take what is mine and declhre it to you" (Jn 16: i2-4). Without the Spirit Christ will always remain for us in the order of "the flesh" which Jesus said "avails nothing" (Jn 6:63). In his turn, St. Paul affirms: "Even though we have known Christ according to the flesh, at present we no longer know him in this way" (2 Cor 5:16) but only ac-cording to the "new creation" (2 Cor 5:17) which is the work of the Spirit. And the Apostle tells ns in the Letter to Titus: "And when the goodness and loving kin~dness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of deeds done by' us in icighteousness but in virtue of his own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and by the re-newal in the Holy Spirit which he poured out upon us through Jesus Christ our Savior so that we might be jus-tified by his grace and become heirs in hope of eternal li~e" (3:4-7). Similarly, in the Letter to the Galatian's: "BUt when the time had fully come, God sent forth his Son~. so that we might receive, adoption as sons. And because' you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying 'Abbal Father!' So through God y0u"are no longer a slave but a son, and if a son then an heir" (Gal 4:4-6). It is, then, through the Spirit that the Father attracts us, beyond the ways of flesh and blood, to the very knowledge of the Son, just as one must be re-born by the power of the Spirit (Jn 3:5) if Christ is to in-troduce us into His otherwise impenetrable kingdom. Since such is the case, the truth of Christ, though at-tested by history, is not naturally accessible as a simple fact of our experience. It depends on testimony from above which does not destroy our intelligence but trans-forms it by giving it n

Issue 22.2 of the Review for Religious, 1963. ; EVODE BEAUCAMP, O.F.M. Sin and the Bible Throughout1 the New Testament the work of Christ is presented as a victory over sin. To speak of sin in this connection is to evoke an agelong experience which is highly complex and which can not be neglected if one wishes to comprehend the matter in all its extent and fullness. The word sin is a familiar one to us; yet it is no older than the Greek of the Septuagint. Before the Sep-tuagint there can not be found in the sacred text a single word exactly corresponding to it. The Alexandrian trans-lator has included under this single word the varying nuances of a number of terms; through this word he has thereby evoked all the forms which were taken through the course of centuries by the resistance of Israel to the salvific activity of God. There can be no question of giving here a study of sin in the Bible; for that is a problem entirely too large. We shall simply mark out the essential lines in order that we might have a better understanding of the problem of sin and that as a consequence we may be able to provide a catechetical presentation of sin that will be more richly nourished by the vitality of the Bible. The God of the Bible ancl the Problem o] Good anti Evil Like all the surroundin~ peoples, Israel united into one word evil and unhappiness on the one hand, goodness and happiness on the other. The first of these words is simultaneously disorder, deceit, emptiness, and death; the second is virtue, fullness of life, and peace. Every deed carries within itsel~ its own consequences: evil in-volves unhappiness while goodness implies happiness: Do no evil, and evil will not overtake you; avoid wickedness, and it will turn aside from you. Sow not in the furrows of in-justice, lest you harvest it sevenfold (Sir 7:1-3). Moreover, one finds in the Bible different ways of ex-pressing the same proverb: This article is translated with permission from the magazine Catdchistes, n. 49 (January 1, 1962), pp. 5-19. The magazine is pub-lished by Procure des Frhres; 78, rue de Shvres; Paris 7, France. 4. 4. Evode Beaucamp O.F.M., a Scripture scholar, lives at Via di Decima Kin. I; Rome, Italy. VOLUME 22, 1965 129 4. 4. ÷ Erode Beaucnmp, O.I~.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 130 Those who conceive malice bring forth emptiness; they give birth to failure (Jb 15:35). They sowed the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind (Hos 8:7). What is original in the Bible is the teaching that good-ness, physical as well as moral, has only one source: God. "O Lord," cries the Psalmist, "thou art my welfare; there is none beside thee." And for Amos the two expressions "to seek God" and "to seek the good" are perfectly identi-cal; both the one and the other offer the secret of life (Amos 5:4-14). The successful issue of human existence is found on the way which Yahweh points out and only there: For this reason will all go well with us, because we obeyed the voice of our God (Jer 42:6). You must keep his commands., that you may prosper, and your children after you, and that you may live long . (Dt 4:40). You must do what is right and good in the sight of the Lord that you may prosper (Dr 6:18; see also 12:25 and 28). The Law given by Yahweh to His people is the way of happiness: "You must keep my laws and ordinances, by the observance of which man shall find life (Lv 18:5).'° This is a point which is important to remember when the idea of the Law is presented; the love of the Jews for the Torah is incomprehensible if it is not realized that Yah-weh is legislator precisely insofar as He is father, bene-factor, shepherd, and defender of His people. Moreover, this throws light on the well-known problem of reward. The Bible does not say that happiness is received as a recompense for goodness but that happiness is the fruit of goodness and that it is to be found at the end of the way. Evil is not treated in the same way as is goodness; the God of the Bible never attributes to Himself a paternir.y with regard to evil. For the Psalmists, evil is the absence of God; and it is towards Him that one must turn to be freed from it. Nevertheless, it is in relationship to God that evil is defined: evil is the reverse of what He wills, of the course of :action that He teaches. As the author of Chapters Three and Four of Genesis has carefully sho~qn, the evils which weigh on humanity are not imputable to the Creator; the responsibility falls on man who has at-tempted to find his happiness outside of God, to flee his dependence on Yahweh by himself possessing the key of good and evil. Man has set himself on the desperate route that leads far from Paradise: Woe to them that have wandered away from reel (Hos O Lord, thou hope of Israel, all who forsake you shall be put to shame; those who prove faithless to you in the land shall be brought to confusion, because they have forsaken the Lord, the fountain of living water (Jer 17:13). Let us remark in passing that the God of the Bible never reproaches man for his thirst for greatness and happiness; what is reproached is the attempt to satisfy this outside of God. Unlikei the gods of Surher and Baby-lon, Yahweh has the intention of giving His creature the fullness of life and happiness, but He teaches that this must be done by Him: If my people would but listen to me, if Israel would only walk in my ways, I would quickly humble their foes . he would be fed with the finest of the wheat; and with honey from the rock would I satisfy you (Ps 81:13-14, 16). Although man punishes himself by separating himself from God (see Jb 22:3 ft.), the Bible, nevertheless, does not hesitate to show us Yahweh personally intervening to punish with all the power of His anger. It is He who hardens the pharaoh, as it is He who brings evil upon His unfaithful people: I am watching over them for evil and not for good (Jet 44:27). I will set my eye upon them for evil, and not for good (Amos It is curious to observe how the inspired writers can com-plain both that Yahweh hides His face and remains dis-tant from His chosen ones (Ps 88:14) and that He turns His face against them (Jer 44:11): "The face of the Lord has scattered them; he no longer regards them" (Lain 4:16). And some of the sacred writers are heard to cry out: Will you never take your eye off me, nor let me alone till I swallow my saliva? (Jb 7:19). Turn your gaze away from me, that I may be glad (Ps 39:13). Yahweh never ceases to assert His exclusive right to bestow good on His chosen ones even when they turn away from Him to their own loss. In the evils which then beset them, there can always, be detected the avenging pursuit of a cheated love: So I will be unto them like a lion; or like a leopard by the road I will lurk. I will rend them like a bear robbed of its cubs; and I will tear off the covering of their heart (Hos 13:7-8). Pursued by the love he has denied, the sinner sees him-self abandoned by all: "Thou has put friend and com-panion far from me" (Ps 88:18). He is abandoned even by the earth which bears and nourishes him: I am bringing upon them a disaster which they shall not be able to escape (Jet 11:11). I will rend and be gone; I will carry off, with none to rescue (Hos 5:14). Sin VOLUME 22, 1963 13! + + + Evode Beaucamp, O.F.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Behold, I am going to make a groaning under you (Amos 2:13). Unlike the Egyptian god Aten, Yahweh is not indif. ferent when He distributes life and happiness. His gifts are always made from a personal and jealous love. Hence He can not but react vigorously when man prefers deceit, nothingness, and ruin to His love. The blows which He deals as well as His tragic silence can lead the wanderer back to the road of return: I withdraw to my own place, until they realize their guilt and seek my face, searching for me in their distress (Hos 5:15). And yet it is necessary that this appeal be heard and followed: It was I that gave you cleanness of teeth in all your cities . it was I that withheld from you the rain, three months before the harvest . I laid waste your gardens and your vineyards . I sent a pestilence like that of Egypt among you . But you did not return to me (Amos 4:6-10). When sin is presented as disobedience to the Law of God, it is necessary to realize that this Law is the path marked out by God and leading to life and happiness; to disobey it is to wish to conduct one's life by oneself and to run towards one's own ruin. The God whose love has been scorned will not be content to let us leave; He will inexorably bar the way that leads to peace just as formerly He posted the cherubim with their swords of fire to pre-vent Adam and his descendants from access to the Para-dise that had been lost: They are a people who err in their hearts, and do not know my ways. So that I swore in my anger that they should not enter into my rest (Ps 95:10-11). The Special Demands o[ the Covenant The Bible is not satisfied with presenting man in con-frontation with God; for the Bible the heart of the matter is the elect one in confrontation with the God who has chosen him. The peace dreamt of by the Jews of old, peace between the members of. one community, peace with the external world and the earth where men liv~.~- this peace is the fruit of the covenant of Sinai (see Lv 26:3-13; Dt 11:13-15). From the viewpoint of the history of religions, one of the most original characteristics of this alliance is the tact that the initiative belongs exclusively to God and not at all to the people; it is Yahweh who has chosen Israel and not Israel who has chosen Yahweh. From the beginning to the end of the Bible, Yahweh repeatedly emphasizes the absolute liberty of His choice, a liberty that gives Him the right to demand obedience without reserve or mur-mur. The elect one should adjust his conduct to the direc- tives given by his God; he must seek that "which is right in the eyes of Yahweh"; he must "march perfectly before Him" without "swerving" from the way "either to the right or the left." Hence.the existence of Israel was constitute~ by the acceptance of these demands;~and these;demands were unceasingly renewed nor were they ever fully completed at any given moment of history. The more Israel, through a better understanding of the obligations of the covenant, wished to submit to them, the larger the number of them grew. In its always unsatisfied thirst to stay perfectly close to the divine will, the chosen people never ceased to develop the principles at the base of the Mosaic legis-lation of the Decalogue (Ex 20:3-17; Dt 5:6-21) and of the code of the covenant (Ex 20:22-26) into the different priestly codes and the enormous growths of the rabbinical tradition. Since there existed this demand for a perfection never perfectly attained ("You must be holy; for I, the Lord your God, am holy" fLy 19:2]; "Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect" [Mt 5:48]), an exhaustive list of sins is nowhere to be found in the Bible; prophets, Psalmists, and wise men give us but certain ones among many. In every epoch and in all circumstances, the obli-gations of the covenant remain unlimited; the human party of the covenant never succeeds in rising to the level of the demands of the divine party. Basically, the sin of later Judaism will be to pretend to arrest this movement of divine improvement by attempting to imprison the divine will within the walls of a definitive and rigid tra-dition. There is no need to emphasize that the same dan-ger lies in wait for every spiritual life, that there will always be a tendency to substitute for the unlimited de-mands of Christian perfection a code of limited rules which each person can hope some day to fulfill com-pletely. The covenant not only implies the demands of a bond faithfully maintained between God and His people, but it also includes the demands of a union between the in-dividual members of this people. Yahweh expects that His people should practice among themselves the justice and mercy which He has bestowed on them. The pious Israelite must never forget to share his joy with the stranger, the orphan, the widow; for, as Deuteronomy puts it: "You must remember that you were once a slave yourself in Egypt" (Dt 16:12). For the same reason it is forbidden to retain one's brother in the state of slavery (Lv 25:55; Dt 15:15); nor ought one to treat a stranger with scorn (Lv 19:34; Dt 24:17). In this principle can be seen the first outline of the thought of the Master: "Love each other as I have loved you." ÷ ÷ ÷ Sin VOLUME 22, 1963 4. + Evode Beaucamp, O.F.M. REVIL~V FOR RELIGIOUS Hence it is that along with the infidelities of the people towards God, the absence of social justice appears as the chief accusation directed by Yahweh against Israel. From the beginning of prophetism (for example, with Elijah), the struggle is waged on two fronts: opposition to the introduction of foreign cults and the respect for the rights of the weak (Naboth's vineyard, 1 K 21). As the Lord Himself emphasized, the entire legislation of Israel re. volves around this double commandment: to love God with one's whole heart and one's neighbor as oneself. The same is to be found in the warnings of the prophets, the Psalmists, and the wise men: You have been told, O man, what is good and what the Lord requires of you'. Only. to do l'ustice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly wtth your God (Mi 6:8; see also Jer 7:5-11). It will not be useless to insist somewhat on this capital point; since we have too great a tendency to distinguish sins against God and sins against neighbor, it is necessary to show how every sin against God leads to injustice with regard to neighbor and how every sin against one's neigh-bor is a blow struck against the rights of God. The first chapters of Genesis in the Yahwist and priestly redac-tions already present evil under this double dimension. The murder of an innocent person follows the act by which Adam made himself independent of his Creator, while the union of the sons of gods with the daughters of men (probably an allusion to sacred prostitution) in-volves the unleashing of violence upon the earth. In a more general way, the Bible unites under the single He. brew word resha' the idea of both impiety and evil-doing, The person who so acts is frequently referred to through-out the Psaher; he is a person who intends to do without God and to live his life entirely by himself and who, in consequence, makes use of force, deceit, and lies: The fool says in his heart: There is no God. Such men are corrupt; they do abominable deeds; there is not one who does good (Ps 14:1; see also Ps 9; 10; 12; 52; 62; and so forth). His adversary and his victim is the just man, the man who expects salvation and justification from God alone and who therefore does not seek to take the law in his own hands nor do himself justice at the expense of others. The life of David furnishes an excellent illustration of these two cases of the evil man and the just man. Sens-ing that Yahweh would give to him the crown of Saul, David steadfastly refused to touch the sacred person of the king; for he intended to owe his royalty: to Yahweh alone and he did not wish to do things wrongly. Accord-ingly, through terrible execution or a no less terrible curse, he decisively disassociated himself from all those who wished to hasten the event by doing violence to Saul or his son or the general of his army (2 S 1:15; ~:28 ft.; 4:10 ft.). In contrast to the dynasties of, usurpers, the dynasty of David was not in its origin tainted by blood (2 K 2:5). But in the affair of Uriah, the king of Jerusalem took a completely opposite c#ur.se; here he acted,asian impious and evil person. Nathan" recalled to the guilty monarch everything that Yahweh had done for him and pointed out to him how He was still ready to do more. But David had lacked confidence; he had chosen to take care of him-sell and this he did at the expense of one of his own subjects. There is, then, no rejection of God which does not eventually turn into injustice, just as there is no in-justice which is not a disregard of the power of the God of :the covenant. For a Christian, to sin is not only to disobey the eternal laws of the Creator; it is also a refusal of the covenant and a scorning of the love of the Father of all. Human Resistance and God's Final Victory The covenant supposes a history; it is at the center of a plan that develops by stages. At each of these stages man tries to block the plan, but his actions do not prevent God from having the final word. It is interesting to follow step by step the resistances of those who were the bene-ficiaries of the covenant, for in them are to be found all the possible forms which man's refusal of God's offer can take. 1. The choice of the elect from the midst of a humanity immersed in sin. Because the human race had turned from Him and had obstinately buried itself in evil, Yah-weh drew forth from it Israel in the desire to make of it a people who would follow His directives. Hence the election of Abraham is presented in the Yahwist tradition of Genesis as the last effort made by Yahweh to prevent His creation from going to perdition apart from Him. This evil had begun when Adam, in his desire for in-dependence, had lost Paradise. Nevertheless, Yahweh did not abandon this fugitive from Him; He gave him the hope of a future victory over the evil in which he had immersed himself; He had even covered the nakedness that the guilty couple had become aware of. To the first couple, punished by their pride, there succeeded a gen-eration of murderers: Cain and his descendants. Once more Yahweh intervened to prevent fallen humanity from disappearing, from the earth under the inexorable blows of the curse of blood. The union of the sons of the gods with the daughters of men provoked such a release of violence that Yahweh decided on the complete de-struction of His work. Nevertheless, He saved from the catastrophe a just man with whom He concluded a cove- 4- 4- 4- VOLUME 22, 1963 4, 4, 4, Erode Beaucamp, O.F.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 136 nant. This was not yet the last act of the drama; the last scene of the beginnings of the human race is the episode of the tower of Babel, the dispersion of the sons of Adam after their aborted attempt to construct a tower that would reach to heaven. Nevertheless, the efforts of Yahweh to arrest man in his vertiginous descent into the abyss were not in vain; for, after the episode of the tower of Babel, a new history begins: the vocation of Abraham, the epic of the patri-archs, the covenant of Sinai. To the first scene of a uni-versal invasion of evil, there succeeds that of the increas-ingly solicitous enterprise of God with regard to a people whom He would choose for His own. Under different forms the same idea is found almost everywhere in the Old Testament. To explain the fact that Israel had taken the place of the Canaanites, the legal texts, for example, tell us that the latter were chased from their land because they had done "what was evil in the eyes of Yahweh"; He had determined to give their land to a people who would agree to live according to His will. But misfortune would come to this people if they ever dared to imitate the conduct of their predeces-sors; He would not hesitate to deprive them of the land. The falling back into the world of sin from which Yah-weh had drawn them led Judah to its ruin, as Jeremiah and Ezekiel emphatically pointed out. The sin of the elect is in fact a return to the sin of the nations after having been freed from it. Each election is pictured as a rupture: Leave your country, your relatives, and your father's house (Gn 12:1), Forget your people and your father's house (Ps 45:11). The call of God implies an ascent towards Him by the practice of what is "right in His eyes" and by a renuncia-tion of "what is evil in his eyes." This initial break must continue throughout the course of time; this requires a constant effort at disencumbrance, for the surrounding world never ceases to exert pressure on the elect to make them fall back under its law. This is the drama of every vocation, not only to religious life but to Christianity self. 2. Resistance to the hand that guides. After He had led the people from Egypt, Yahweh made them cross the desert before bringing them to the Promised Land. The desert is the sign of temptation, a testing of faith. In other words, Yahweh would not give the land of Canaart to the Hebrews unless they abandoned themselves to Him without reserve by remaining faithful to the memory of the marvelous act of liberation by which they left Egypt. But hunger, thirst, and fatigue quickly overcame the faith of the former slaves of the pharaohs. They soon forgot the extraordinary epic of the Exodus; they mur-mured and rebelled against Moses and Aaron; they be-came enraged at seeing themselves in a venture which seemed to be pointless; and they dreamed nostalgically of the onions of Egypt. They refused to march forward on the grounds that the:.P~-omised Land W~s~'fi0t good enough and because the enterprise was to their minds a doomed one (Nm 14). This lack of confidence induced the people of Moses to attempt to assure themselves of the protection of their God by placing Him at their service and by forcing His hand as they wished. This is what the Bible calls "tempt-ing God." Instead of Yahweh "tempting" and trying the people in order to make them proceed according to His will, it was Israel who tempted its God, attempting to bring Him into the service of human caprice. Hence when Moses delayed coming down from the mountain and Yahweh made them wait for His answer, the He-brews made the golden calf, a material representation of their God which would allow them to control Him and to"make Him advance according to their desires at the head of their army. This recalcitrant attitude of the elect blocked the entire matter of the election and prevented their entering the rest of God (Ps 95:11). The intercession of Moses effected a compromise: the rebellious generation died in the desert and only their children possessed the right to the heritage of the God of the covenant. 3. Profanation of God's gift. The covenant gift of the land of Canaan should have created the indissoluble bonds of a steadfast love between Israel and God. Unfortunately, Israel, once it was secure and satisfied, was quick to forget: I led them to pasture; with food came satiety, and with satiety pride; and with pride came forgetfulness of me (Hos 13:6; see also Dt 32:15). The riches of the land of Canaan, instead of constantly recalling to the people the solicitude of Yahweh, drove Him from their mind and nurtured in them the illusion of being able to escape the jealous influence of their God. With the products of their land, they attempted to buy protection abroad; this was a seeking after "lovers"--the famous theme of prostitution. Often this theme is con- [used with the closely related one of adultery. The idea of prostitution certainly includes the notion of unfaith-fulness, but it is wider than that; it is not only the betrayal of love, it is also the profanation of the gifts of love: But you trusted in your beauty, and played the harlot on your reputation; you lavished your harlotries on everyone who passed by. You took off your garments, and made yourself gaily decked shrines, on which you played the harlot. You took also your splendid ornaments of gold and silver, which I had given 4- 4- VOLUME 22, 196;1 4. 4" Erode Beaucamp, O.F.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 138 you, and made yourself images of men, with which you played the harlot. And you took your embroidered robes, and wrapped them in these. My oil and my incense you set before them; my bread which I had given you-~the choice flour, oil, and honey with which I had fed you--you set before them as a soothing odor (Ez 16:15-19). The Chosen People made use of what Yahweh had given them in order to curry the favor of the baals or to buy alliances with the peoples that surrounded them. Resistance to the hand that Ied them or profanation of the gift received represent two aspects of the rebellion of the children of God. However, none of the stages of the history of salvation exists in an absolutely pure state. Hence it is that throughout the length of our Christian life sin can put on the form of a refusal to proceed in the desert and of a prostitution when one, for his own pur-poses and independently of God, makes use of the gift which he has received from His love. The Old Testament leaves us with a vision of a check-mate: God is not able to regain the human race which from the beginning had plunged itself into sin and sepa-rated itself from Him. Unless God would make a new heart for men, they would never be able to rise up to the level of the divine demands. Even the Law which Yahweh had given His elect in an attempt to free them from the surrounding evil came in the end only to increase sin (Rom 7:7-25). The cross of Christ and the gift of the Spirit are necessary in order that we might escape the in. fernal cycle. It is then that there appears that new man according to the heart of God whom the prophets Jere-miah and Ezekiel had predicted: I will give you a new heart, and will put within you a new spirit; I will remove the heart of stone out of your flesh, and will give you a heart of flesh; and I will put my spirit within you, and make you follow my statutes and be careful to observe my ordinances (Ez 36:26-27). There is no need to emphasize that one must not present the Law of Christ which alone can make us pleasing to God without adding that this Law is impractical if Christ Himself does not communicate to us His power so that we might fulfill the demands of the Law. Fundamental Aspects o[ the Discord Between God and Man Throughout the Old Testament the resistance of man to the work of God is presented under three clearly dis-tinguished aspects; it is essential to guard against con-fusing these three when the idea of sin in the Bible is analyzed. 1. Opposition to the work of divine justice. The prin-cipal adversary of divine justice is an individual whom the Hebrew language terms rasha', a term which is usu-ally translated by the word impious or wicked. This rasha' enters into association with the "makers of iniq-uity," "the proud," "the mockers," and the "men of blood." His weapons are cunning, lies, violence; he is constantly thinking of i~i~l~'ity"in his he;irt~ li'~ Sets traps for the innocent; his hands are soiled with blood and he is given to drink. His opposition to justice is shown in two ways: it is, first of all, undisguised hostility towards God who is thought to be too distant to'react against it; and, secondly, it is a merciless war against the just whose violated rights the God of the covenant is pledged to de-fend. For practical purposes, the rasha' and his satellites coincide with the adversaries of the covenant; for the justice they oppose is at the center of the preoccupation of the parties of the covenant. They appear from the very beginning of the human race, but more ~usually they ap-pear as the enemies of the Chosen People; in every case they constantly menace the stability of the work of God in the cosmos and in history. Gradually the distinction between the just and the impious is found within the nation itself; it is at this time that the realization of a qualitative Israel necessitates a distinction between the faithful and those who are traitors and apostates. None of the faithful aligns himself with the: rasha': Drag me not away with the wicked, with those who do wron.g, who speak of peace to their neighbors though evil is in their hearts (Ps 28:3). On the occasion of the demands of the wicked, the just man frequently prays for justice from God; this im-plies that he is the victim not the accomplice of the wicked. If the good man wishes to be heard by Yahweh, he must disassociate himself as completely as possible from the perverse machinations of the artisans of evil: "I hate the assembly of evil~toers, and with the wicked I will not sit down" (Ps 26:5). It is only on this condition that he can cry out: "Judge me"; "Do me justice" (Ps 26:1; 43:1). In the matter of justice, then, the Old Testament knows only negative confessions (Ps 5; 26; 139; Jb 31) like those that the dead recite for their justification be-fore the tribunal of Osiris. There is no avowal of an atti-tude of present opposition to justice, an attitude that the God of the covenant would have to punish; only past sins are confessed the consequences of which are already or about to be felt. This is evidently insufficient for Chris-tians. We not only have to present to the Father our past errors but also a heart which even now is evil and which we ask Him to transform. There can be no doubt that ÷ ÷ ÷ Sin VOLUME 22, 1963 139 ÷ .I. ÷ Erode Beaucamp, O~F.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS such a prayer supposes a pure intention, and this is the profound significance of our negative confessions. Man can not pray to God while desiring evil; nevertheless, pure intentions do not effect that we see exactly what God wants nor even that we feel the power to accomplish it. Our pure intentions require from us only that we aban-don ourselves,to Him in order that we might see and will the perfection which He expects from us: For I do not the good that I wish, but the evil I do not wish, that I perform . Unhappy man that I aml Who will deliver me from the body of this death? (Rom 7:19 and 24). 2. A state of rupture with God. The three Hebrew roots which are ordinarily translated by such words as sin, transgression, iniquity, fault, and so forth express, though each with different nuances, the idea of a state of rupture with the God of the covenant: The Lord's hand is not .too short to save, nor his ear too dull to hear; but your iniquities have been a barrier between you and your God. And your sins have hidden his face, so that he could not hear you (Is 59:1-2). This state is a present situation the cause of which is a definite past act; hence one goes from the awareness of the rupture to an appreciation of its origin: "I have sinned." This is equivalent to saying that if God aban-dons me to my lot, I can blame only myself; it is my own fault: O Lord, the great and revered God, who keeps loving faith with those who love him and keep his commandments, we have sinned . To us, O Lord, pertains confusion of face . but to the Lord our God pertain compassion and forgiveness (Dn 9: 4-5, 8-9). The awareness of sin, then, is the awareness of being abandoned by God through one's own fault; the sinner is like a child experiencing the feeling of no longer being loved by his mother; he feels himself cut off from the one who is his source of life: My anger shall blaze against them, and I will forsake them~ and withhold my favor from them; they shall become a thing to be consumed, and many evils and troubles shall befall them, so that they will say at that time: Is it not because God is not in our midst that these evils have befallen us? (Dt 31:17). By the fact of sin--and this holds true for the relations between man and man as well as for the relations be-tween God and man--the Protector finds Himself re-leaged of His obligation 'towards His proteges; in particu-lar He is no longer bound to see justice done them and He can consider them as His enemies: We look for redress, but it comes not; for salvation, but it remains f~r from us. For many are our sins before you, and our faults bear witness against us (Is 59:11-12). Abandoned by his God and even pursued by His ill will, the sinner is sooner or later doomed to death. In the case of an individual he will use up his strength in a dis-ease that is without hope; in the case of a country it will perish under the blows of epidemics, famines, and wars. For sin breaks not only~th@,~bbnds betwe~en,~n~fi and his God; it also isolates man frbm society and even from the earth, since peace with God is the condition of peace with one's fellow men and with the entire world. In his dereliction and total loneliness, the sinner possesses only one resource: to throw himself into the arms of the One he has offended. On the whole, the Old Testament attaches more im-portance: to this state of rupture than to the nature of the acts which provoke it. Contrary to the confessions of Babylon which attempted to exorcise evil by interminable lists of all possible sins, the Bible generally reduces its inventory to the simple assertion: '~I have sinned." For the Bible, it is God, not sin, that is of interest; it is God that is considered. A sense of sin that is not a sense of God and does not suppose the experience of a valued intimacy is a false sense of sin which can lead to the greatest catastrophes as the history of Luther and Jansen-ism have shown. 3. Impurity, the state of incompatibility with the divine presence. The notions of purity an~l impurity are among the most common and primitive ones in the his-tory of religions. In them is found everywhere the same confusion between taboos of a ritual nature and ethical prescriptions in the proper sense. Sexual pollutions, for example, whether licit or illicit, make one impure, just as the shedding of blood, whether justly or unjustly, profanes the earth. And the contagious nature which is attributed to such impurity makes the notion even more difficult for the modern mind. There has been a mis-understanding of the place which the Bible gives to such a primitive category of thought in later books like Leviti-cus; many see in this a reaction to the effort made by the prophets to form the moral conscience of Israel. But presented in this way, the problem is wrongly placed. Impurity is on a completely different level than that of sin, the rupture with God. It is not concerned with the difficulties and blocks that can lessen the rela-tions of man with God but with that which appears in-compatible with the maintenance of the divine presence in the midst of the country: Because the Lord your God moves within your camp to rescue you and to put your enemies at your mercy, your camp must be clean, so that he may not see anything indecent with you, and turn away from you (Dr 23:14). If the Bible attaches a great importance to this notion sin VOLUM£ 22, 1963 141 ÷ ÷ ÷ E~ode Benuc~mp, O.F.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 142 of impurity, it is because for it the question is not re-ducible to the simple fact of not offending God; it is the much more profound matter of living with Him in His presence. The sense of purity is the awareness of the holiness which election requires, a holiness that must ex-tend to everything which conditions the existence of the elect: I am the Lord your God; consecrate yourselves, therefore, and be holy; for I am holy; so you must not defile yourselves with any kind of insect that crawls on the earth. For I am the Lord who brought you up out of the land of Egypt to be your God, and so you must be holy; for I am holy (Lv 11:44-45). You must be holy to me; for I, the Lord, am holy, and have separated you from other peoples to be mine (Lv 90:26). As long as Israel remained a political and sociological reality, the community of life between Yahweh and His people had necessarily to preserve a character that was both interior and exterior, implying demands both of a physical and a moral order. This combination should not, then, be surprising. It is necessary to wait for the Gospel in order that the problem of purity be elevated to a properly spiritual level, for then the kingdom of God becomes an interior reality which is not involved in the social and material conditions of the life of the elect: "It is what pr6ceeds from a man that makes him impure" (Mk 7:20). All cases of impurity, however diverse, have this in common that they create a cultic incompatibility and make the approach to the divine dangerous. But it is dif-ficult to find how this incompatibility flows from a single principle; this is a world of different and heterogeneous elements which it would be a waste of time to attempt to unify. So, for example, one type of impurity consisted of any attempt to violate a reality that was initially sacred: harvesting, the gathering of fruits, marriage, and so ford~. But impurity was likewise involved when a being was possessed by foreign divinities; the sinner fell into this category when, being rejected by his god, he became the prey of demons. Finally, every act is impure which lessens the essential integrity of a being, especially a consecrated one: the loss of blood or of seminal fluid, the cutting of the hair of a Nazirite, the cutting of a stone intended for an altar, the putting to work of an animal destined to carry a sacred object, and so forth. All this is common to the ancient world; and the Bible in this matter originates nothing, though it should be noted that matters such as sicknesses, curses, various ca-lamities, blood crying for vengeance, cadavers awaiting burial figure here as simply malefic rather than being at-tributed to foreign divinities or demons. Furthermore, it seems to us that a global impression emerges from all this chaos: a being cannot support the presence of God if its existence is diminished or threatened either by an acci-dental loss of substance or by subjection to some other power. Not being fully himself, man in such a case cannot offer himself to his God. If this interpretation is correct, then the need for purity calls out for the idea of the In-carnation, for the Priest without stain who can enter the sanctuary of the God of the covenant; this is the perfect man who has attained the fullness of his stature: "Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect." Before the majesty of the King-God who was revealed to his eyes, Isaiah becomes frightenedly aware not of his sin but of his impurity: Woe to me, for I am lost; I am a man of unclean lips. and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts (Is 6:5). It is not sin but impurity which impedes the vision of God: "Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God." Whatever may have been for primitive man the deep roots of the notes of impurity, the idea should not be suppressed but moralized and spiritualized. From this an-cient notion, two elements should be kept for the profit of our own Christian life: first, our Christian life is truly a life with God, and it supposes a full realization of our stature as the "new man" according to Christ and a full posses-sion of ourselves that withholds nothing from the in-fluence of God; secondly, every lessening of our personal vitality is a lessening of the vitality of the community; every lessening of our charity detracts from the global charity of the Church, and it tarnishes her purity, since impurity by its nature is contagious, always passing from individuals to the collectivity. Solutions to the Discord Between God and Man 1. The judgment of the wicked. A victorious judgment of the God of the covenant will put an end to the opposi-tion of the wicked man. This judgment, however, is never purely negative. The wicked man is a dangerous individ-ual, and his downfall affects the salvation of the just: The righteous shall rejoice that he has seen vengeance; he shall wash his footsteps in the blood of the wicked. And men shall say: There certainly is a reward for the just; there cer-tainly is a God who judges on earth (Ps 58:10-11). As we have seen, the wicked man is generally con-sidered as unable to be converted; this is why his disap-pearance appears as the only solution to the evil of which the just man is a victim; the world will regain its peace only when God has caused this evil to fall on its authors. Gradually, however, other conceptions of the matter came into existence. Jeremiah and especially Ezekiel envisage ÷ ÷ ÷ VOLUME 22° 1963 ÷ Evode Beaucamp, O.F.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS the case of a wicked man who abandons his wickedness to practice "judgment and justice": As I live, says the oracle of Yahweh, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather in this that the wicked man turn from his way and live. Turn, O turn, from your evil waysl Why should you die, O house of Israeli (Ez 33:11). This view of the conversion of the wicked is a direct preparation for the Gospel. Christ will proclaim that He has come not for the just but for the wicked---the publi-cans and adulterers who without conversion would fall beneath the blows of the avenging anger of God. The great revolution of the Gospel is the distinction between evil and evil men; in the Our Father it is from evil that we ask to be freed and not from our enemies, as was done in the Psalms. As long as a man has not drawn his last breath, he is never to be identified with evil and we must always hope for his eventual conversion. The venge-ance of the just is no longer the extermination of the wicked but their penance and reparation. 2. The pardon of the sin. The one who has culpably lost communion with God can only hope for the gratui-tous act of clemency and pity Which the One offended can grant or not grant when pardon is asked of Him. In the rupture man took the initiative, but the initiative in the matter of reconciliation belongs exclusively to God. More than in any other case there apears here the impos-sibility of forcing His hand. Sin, the rupture of relations between God and man, is an intolerable weight from which the sinner cannot free himself by his own effort; it is a weight that only the One offended is in a position to lift: For, day and night, your hand lay heavy upon me . I said: I will confess my transgressions to the Lord, and you forgave the guilt of my sin (Ps 32:4-5). The Babylonians, in order to have greater certainty of their restoration to favor, frequently attempted to have another friendly divinity intervene with the angered god. In the Bible, as is evident, man is without the possibility of such a mediation. He must directly approach the God he has offended and throw himself at His feet while de-claring "I have sinned"; he must rely entirely on God's mercy. It is clear that such an act implies conversion; it is the return of the prodigal son to his Father's house. While the Bible does not permit the sinner to avoid encountering the God he has angered, still it does not leave him without arguments by which he can plead his case. He can, for example, invoke the glory of the God of the covenant whose name he still continues to bear: What will the nations think of Yahweh if He continues to leave his people defenseless? (Ps 79; 80; Ez 32:11-14). He can also invoke His justice: In abandoning His own, does not Yahweh yield to His enemies? (Ps 41). Finally, he can appeal to the shortness of life--life which a pro-lUonngfoedrt uabnsaetnelcye, owf eG coadn m naokte ds eelmayp thye aren du ,s epngsne~le sths e(Pses 9a0rg).u-ments which still retaiii,:th~ir~, validity for, oi~i~ prayer as Christians. We have already pointed out that the penitent does not dwell upon an analysis of his culpable act but keeps his eyes on the God the lack of whom he suffers and in whom he sees his only hope; the simple fact of the rupture is al-ready virtually the presence of death and it constitutes for the sinner the deepest kind of punishment than which nothing greater is to be feared. The penitent calls on the judgment and justice of Yahweh as a grace the right to which he has lost by sin. He awaits the moment of pardon which will reestablish him in the friendship of His God so that once again he will be protected in the midst of a hostile world: The anger of the Lord must I bear--for I have sinned against him--until he shall take up my case and do me justice (Mi 7:9). Once pardon h.as been granted, the remembrance of the sin disappears in the remembrance of the victorious love of Yahweh, a love which is capable of overpowering all offenses and which in its profundity and total gratuitous-ness leaves the soul of man in confusion (Ps 103); here already there is almost found the felix culpa of St. Au-gustine. Moreover, the world which the divine mercy re-constructs is always more beautiful than the one de-stroyed by sin. To illustrate this law, it is sufficient to reflect on the messianic prophecies which for the most part are prophecies of pardon (Ps 85; Is 40-55; 60; Ez 34; and so forth). 3. Purification of Defilement. Having been excluded from worship, the defiled man must purify himself be-fore coming into the presence of God.'It is a co.mmon idea among all the ancient religions that the gods have given men ritual materials and formulas that are capable of purifying them, their temples, and their country. In particular, there are appropriate rites that permit the expulsion from the impure being of the evil spirits and demons who have taken possession of him; thus, for ex-ample, spells and curses which had victimized a person were made to pass on to the body of animals wh~ch.~:were then driven far away or burned. In the Bible this liturgi-cal transfer has left only a few traces, the most notable ex-ample of which is that of the scapegoat of the D~y of Atonement (Lv 16). This animal, loaded with the sins of Israel, was not offered to Yahweh but driven far aw~iy to Azazel. 4, 4, VOLUME 22, 1963 ÷ ÷ ÷ Erode Beau~arap, O.F.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 146 In place of this image of a transfer, the Bible has pre-ferred that of cleansing through ablutions and sprinkling with blood and water. This symbol is simultaneously negative and positive: at the same time as it removes the uncleanliness, the water restores all the freshness of life. This is also, as it seems to me, the function of the blood in the atonement rite and in the sin sacrifices. But we shall not delay here on this difficuh and debated point; we will content ourselves with giving our own personal opinion. Blood seems to have as its effect the protection of the things and persons which it covers; it protects them from the various evils which are the sequel of sin just as the blood of the paschal lamb did at the Exodus (Ex 12:1-15). But to this negative effect there is added a posi-tive action; for blood is life, and it is by reason of the life that is in it that Yahweh has given it as an effector of atonement (Lv 17:10-12). Thanks to it, persons, cult ob-jects, and the country that is the abode of Yahweh find their fullness of life, their first integrity which impurity had caused to be lost. The application of this Biblical rite to our Christian life is not difficult. The sin of a Christian can be con-sidered as a stain that not only changes our personal re-lations with God but also diminishes the vital potentiali-ties of the Church and impairs her charity. Reparation, therefore, is a social duty just as it was in ancient Israel. God has given us the Blood of Christ as an inexhaustible source of love so that we can preserve for the Church the immaculate appearance which her divine Spouse initially bestowed on her: He wished to summon into his presence the Church in all her beauty, with no stain, wrinkle, or any disfigurement; she. was to be holy and spotless (Eph 5:27). Conclusion By way of conclusion, let us synthesize the results of our inquiry. In order that the notion of sin preserve all the force that the Bible gives it, it must include three ele-ments: deterioration of the order of creation; rupture with God, the source of life; and impurity which hinders all commerce with the divine. All this is what is repre-sented by the word sin at the time of the New Testament~ it is all this that Christ has come to restore, heal, and purify. Under these three aspects, sin is a flight from God, the only source of life and happiness; it represents the contrary of all the effort God has made throughout his-tory to draw us to Him; it is a return back to a past from which He has drawn us; it is our refusal to allow ourselves to be led by Him blindly; it is our squandering of the gifts we have received. To depart from God is to depart from other men and finally to find oneself alone in a hostile world: And it has brought you. w " as reconciled . ,_ o ~;. ¯ - uom~ wron~ ;-,- - "-' holiness a~a t__ )vu mrough dying, ;,,~.:_ . 6 ~-o.ugn now (Col 1:2'1_~)."ee ~rom reproa~c h. .or ~Ta~'e,'~'~vt~uas op~rensve nbcoedy) ia Sin VOLUME 22, 1963 PAUL W. O'BRIEN, S.J. The Weekly Confession of Fervent Religious ÷ ÷ Paul W. O'Brien, S.J., is the rector of the Pontifical Semi-nary in Dalat, Viet-nam. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 148 The word "fervent" in the title is not meant to frighten away those good religious for whom the article is actually written, but who usually hesitate to think of themselves as fervent. It is used rather to indicate the limited perspective of the article, a perspective however which we trust is representative of religious and hehce applicable to many. It is not unusual to find religious who have a problem with their weekly confession--a problem that seems to arise not from their being tepid but rather from their being fervent. They are serious about their religious life. They would rather do anything than deliberately offend God in the smallest thing. And yet they find a certain uneasiness, tedium, even difficulty with their weekly con-fession. Time and again they have consulted the classical authors to find ways of refreshing this exercise, but usu. ally with only transitory success. The considerations pro-posed in these manuals, while excellent and fundamental and helpful to a certain point, do not really fit. For the religious we have in mind does not come to his weekly confession as an enemy of God; he does not come with mortal sins; he has no need of being "reconciled" to the Church, much less of having divine life "restored" to his soul. His confession is not one of obligation, and con:;e-quently there is nothing that he is obliged to confess (supposing always that to ensure the validity of his con-fession, he mentions his past forgiven sins, at least in a general way). In fact he rarely (more likely never) brings unforgiven sins to the confessional. For to say nothing of the many ways that venial sins can be forgiven out-side the sacrament, his daily communion is constantly purifying his soul, and his habit of immediately turning to God in loving sorrow for any fault committed, plus the. contrition that he excites before confession, brings him to the confession with really no unforgiven matter. Clearly the basic considerations of the purgative way, which may once have applied to him, and whose grateful memory will always remain with him, are not sufficient. There is need of a ditter~ent perspective~a .,shifting of emphasis, if his confession ~is" to produce the,, fruit ex-pected by the Church. ' ¯ ~. ~ For the Church is greatly concerned about these fre-quent confessions. When som~ younger members of the clergy were diminishing esteem for the frequent confes-sion of venial sins, claiming that it was useless, consumed too much time of busy pastors, and was actually un-known in the early Church, Pope Plus XII spoke out clearly and strongly against them (Mystici Corporis 87): Equally disastrou~s in its effects is the false contention that tile frequent confession of venial sins is not a practice to be greatly esteemed. Therefore those among the young clergy who are diminishing esteem for frequent confession are to know that the enterprise upon which they have embarked is alien to the Spirit of Christ and most detrimental to the Mys-tical Body of our Savior. For a constant and speedy ad-vancement in the path of virtue, we highly recommend the practice of frequent confession, introduced by the Church under the guidance of the Holy Spirit; for by this means we grow in a true knowledge of ourselves and in Christian hu-mility, bad habits are uprooted, spiritual negligence and apathy are prevented, the conscience is purified and the will strengthened, salutary spiritual direction is obtained, and grace is increased by the efficacy of the sacrament itself. In the following lines it is not my purpose to touch on all the above advantages nor to give a form to confession nor to enter into the aspect of spiritual direction in the confessional. I wish merely to redistribute the emphasis of certain aspects and thus perhaps help towards a solu-tion of our problem. Sacrament of Loving Sorrow One of the areas that calls for reappraisal and a pos-sible reshifting of emphasis concerns our habitual way of looking on the sacrament. There is danger that a way of speaking will induce a way of thinking. Because of our ordinary practice of speaking of the sacrament of pen-ance as "confession," we may develop a wrong emphasis. Now I am not advocating a change in our traditional terminology, but we must be careful lest our way of speaking throw everything out of focus. For the actual "confession" of sins, in the type of confession we are dealing with, is one of the least important elements of the sacrament. And yet it is frequently the main source of trouble for the fervent religious: "What to say?" Such a preoccupation is understandable when there is ques-tion of the integrity of an obligatory confession of mortal sins, but how completely out of place it is in our con- 4- 4- 4- Weekly onlession VOLUME 22, 1963 ]49 P. W. O'B~i~, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS fessions. I wonder if our exact catechetical training, given chiefly in view of a form of obligatory confession, is not unduly transferred to confessions of devotion. At any rate, it is not rare to find the problem of confession be-coming more acute as the religious becomes more fer-vent, the problem of "what to say" becoming so empha-sized as to bring on uneasiness. But even when we think more exactly in terms of the "sacrament of penance," we must still be on our guard. The very word "penance" can become a source of mis-understanding. The Latin word paenitentia of which our English "penance" is a translation, has been well-chosen and in its real meaning of "sorrow with purpose of amendment" is quite appropriate. But in English we do not think that way. For us "penance" is associated with fasting and disciplines; and even though we have been taught that true interior penance consists in sorrow for our sins, this is not our habitual association with the word "penance." Would that the translating fathers had given us something like "sacrament of sorrow." It would have helped us put the emphasis where it belongs. The emphasis then in this "sacrament of sorrow" should be on sorrow; but a sorrow that is a free and meritorius act. This should immediately put us on our guard against certain counterfeits. It is a free act; hence always in my power. I can make it on Monday; I can make it on Friday. I can make it when I am depressed; I can make it when I am as dry as a stick. Evidently its value does not and cannot depend on emotional inten-sity (which is not in my power). It is a movement of the will detesting sin because of my conviction (intellectua! appreciation) that God's will is above all. Its efficacy measured not by the accompanying emotion or affection. (if there is any) but by the strength derived from my conviction. Now for the fervent religious this conviction has become habitual. It is constantly operative in his daily life as is evidenced by his care in avoiding all that is against God's will. But it can well be that this con-viction has.become so settled in his life that it sets up no emotional resonance. He must not be surprised then when he finds that his sorrow in the confessional reta~ins the same strong voluntary but unemotional tendency that characterizes his daily life. He detests sin and all his failings because he truly loves God and has made will the supreme norm of his life. Here the question of motive enters. It is this that sets the tone to our sorrow and our confession. The faithful religious does not come to God in fear but in love,~,as to his Father. The Little Flower puts it simply: I have long believed that the Lord is more tender than a mother. I know that a mother is always ready to forgive trivial, involuntary misbehavior on the part of her child . Children are always in trouble, falling down, getting themselves dirty, breaking thing~but all this does not shake their parent's love for them. We come to God as His dearest children, sharing His very life, coming with th.e loving sorrow .of asofi; to be reassured that all, all has b&fi forgiven;' to i:eceive the embrace of the Father. Sacrament ol Purification One of the perspectives of the sacrament that opens up a rich vein of thought and deserves to be emphasized by the faithful religious is the aspect of purification-- purification not in the sense of liberation from the guilt of actual sins and faults--but rather a deeper purifica-tion that penetrates to the roots of those faults, to the habitual tendencies which cause them, and to the reli-quiae peccati which are their results. The sacrament be-comes (if you will pardon the expression) a sort of radio-therapy of our deep wickedness. We expose our wounds, visible or not, with a certain reasoned eagerness and joy to the curative influence of the sacrament. We are not so much preoccupied about our past actual faults. We have sorrowed over them and know that they have been wiped out through God's mercy. It is rather the deep of our soul, the roots of the faults, which give promise of bring-ing forth again their fruit of death--it is these roots which disturb us. And here precisely is where the "grace of the sacrament" comes into play--a grace which the Council of Florence describes as a grace of purification, a grace of healing: "Through penance we are spiritually healed" (DB 695). This grace reaches beyond the actual sins, forgiven by the absolution, to reach deep into our nature into the causes of those sins. This purifying influence acts not only on the soul but also on the body. I believe we may find an analogy in the effects of the sacrament of extreme unction which is usually considered as the complement of penance. Its influence in strengthening soul and body during serious sickness should give us some clue to the purifying action of penance. For we may well believe that the effects of this sacrament are but the "finishing touches" to a proc-ess begun and carried on through other sacraments throughout one's life. All the sacraments, even Holy Eucharist, have a purifying influence on the whole per-son, body and soul. Now one of the effects of the sacra-ment of extreme unction is to weaken the effects of con-cupiscence, to restore some part of our original integrity which was lost through Adam's sin. St. Thomas explains our inability to avoid all indeliberate venial sins by concupiscence together with the slowness of our percep- + + + Weekly Con]ession 151 ÷ ÷ ÷ P. W. O'Bden, $.L REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS tion of good, the changeableness of our will, and the frequency of temptation (S. T. 1, q 109, a 8). Now in re-ducing concupiscence, extreme unction restores order to man's strivings, subordinating the sensitive to the spirit-ual and the spiritual to God; it helps put a man in true possession of himself, so that he is able to dominate not only those positive urges of soul and body that escape control but also the oppressive weight of dead inertia by which the sensitive life impedes the striving of the will toward God. From this precious purifying and strengthening action of extreme unction, we may gather some idea of what takes place in the sacrament of pen-ance, not precisely in view of a serious sickness but look-ing rather to the progressive purification of our soul as it weakens concupiscence, counteracts sluggishness, or-ders our passions, and restores us to spiritual liberty. Awareness of Sinfulness Now it is precisely this grace of purification that draws religious to the sacrament of penance. (Perhaps I should say "drives," for there is no question of an emotional attraction, but rather the compelling force of a reasoned conviction based on faith.) It is this that explains the daily confessions of so many saints--St. Catherine of Siena, St. Ignatius, St. Francis Xavier, St. Peter Claver, St. Charles Borromeo, St. A1phonsus Liguori. Surely they were not deliberately sinning nor were they scrupulous. But they understood better the holiness of God. St. Francis Borgia was accustomed to confess twice a day, once in the morning before saying Mass and again in the evening before retiring. By this I do not mean that daily confession, where possible, is a goal to be aimed at. It may be helpful regularly for some persons, or for others at particular times of special grace or difficulty. This is a problem to be determined with one's confessor. I merely mention these examples to illustrate one of the great motives of frequent confession--the desire for pu-rity. This desire of the saints for purity is shared by ,~11 faithful souls according to their grace. For as the reli-gious strives to lead his life more generously, avoiding as far as he can all deliberate failings, he participates more abundantly in God's light. The effect is twofold: he be-gins to understand more clearly who God is, and in the same measure he becomes more aware of his wretched-ness. He finds himself in an attitude of soul similar to that of Eliphaz, one of Job's friends, who tells .us that his hair stood on end when in vision a spirit passed be-fore him. "I heard the voice as it were of a gentle wind: Shall man be justified in comparison with God, or shall a man be more pure than his Maker? Behold. in his angels he found wickedness." (Jb 4:15 ft.). Isaiah re-cords a similar state of soul, the result of his great vision of the holiness of God. "Woe is me because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people that hath unclean lips and I have seen with my eyes the King, the Lord of hosts" (Is 6:l-5)~The religious~in~tlle light of God s hohness becomes painfully consc,ous, I will not say of "sin," but of sinfulness. He longs to bring his sins to the confessional, but what sins? Here precisely is the trouble. The sins that are clear have long since been sub-mitted to the sacrament in sorrow. He knows that they are forgiven and blotted from the sight of God. But the daily failings? Truly they are not deliberate sins. He would rather do anything than displease God. He cannot pin down his failings. And yet he is painfully conscious of a mass of selfishness, insincerity, sensuality, but deep in the soul where he cannot reach. He realizes that this wickedness penetrates all that he does, but it is not in acts where it can be grasped. And he also realizes that this is not an illusion; the wickedness is really there. This creates a problem for him--a problem that per-haps increases with the fidelity of the soul--and which often accounts for much of the difficulty experienced in approaching the sacrament. It seems such hypocrisy to have nothing to say. And yet no matter how long the ex-amination of conscience is prolonged, nothing more spe-cific is discovered. He has only wasted precious time that could have been more profitably spent on deepening his loving sorrow. Nor is this due simply to negligence of the soul. Perhaps most natures do not have the per-spicacity to analyze and draw out into the clear these deep tendencies of the soul. The light that is given them is not so sharp. Nor need it be; for its purpose of hu-miliation and purification is equally accomplished by the confused and painful acceptance of what the soul perceives confusedly. According to One's Light Fortunately, in this type of confession, the accusation is one of the least important parts. Hence very little time should be spent on the actual examination of conscience. The daily examination of conscience faithfully made will guarantee the religious against negligence, and a quick glance will usually reveal where he has displeased God. Hence if within a few minutes nothing specific is dis-covered, he should stop his inquiry and be satisfied with a general accusation: "I accuse myself of all the sins of my past life, especially for my sins of pride, sensuality, or against some commandment." Father Saint-Jure, S.J., gives this directive: Those (venial sins) which we should seek out and confess Weekly ¢onlesslon VOLUME Z2o '1'963 153 4. 4. 4. P. W. O'Brien, $.1. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]54 with more c~ire are those which weigh most heavily on us, and those which cause us more embarrassment and shame, pro-vided that we are able to confess them with honesty a~d de-cency; likewise those which ~hinder us most from attaining the perfection to which God calls us, or which are contrary to the virtue to. which we are particularly devoting our efforts for that week or month. And since among venial sins there are some which arise from mere weakness, which escape us as by surprise, and others from malice, which we commtt with full knowledge, coldly, understanding what we are doing and with full consent, of these latter none should be omitted in con-fession. As for the others, one should leave them to the mercy of God, and confess them in general, all-inclusive terms: If the soul is sufficiently. . .pure so that it commits only these sins of weakness, let zt ~ndzcate some of them" (On the Knowledge and Love of our Lord Jesus Christ, Bk 3, c 10, ~9). Hence we may give as a practical rule: I may accuse myself of whatever God gives me the light to see as dis-pleasing to Him (no matter how trivial it may seem in itselD. If I see specific failings clearly, it is well to accuse myself at least of some of them; if I see them only.in a confused way, as tendencies, I should be content to ac-knowledge them in this general way (paying particular attention to one or another of them for a few weeks at a time)--adding, however, a general accusation of past forgiven sins to insure the validity of the confession. This awareness of sinfulness and inability to reach it through our own efforts is often given by spiritual writers as a reason for God's intervention through the passive purification of the soul. We read of "dark nights of the soul" in which God's purifying action goes deep where the active effort of the soul cannot penetrate, purifying the roots of our evil inclinations, attacking the basic self-ishness of the soul. This, type of purification is usually associated with trials in prayer that fall to the lot of con-templatives. We know, however, that God's purifying action can take many forms, that his apostles are often purified through the trials inherent in their apostolate. Surely a most powerful means of purification and one which is often overlooked is the very sacrament of purifi-cation instituted by Christ, which accomplishes in the soul much the same work as the "dark nights" and apos-tolic trials: namely, the progressive submission of our lower nature to the higher and the higher to God, the liberation of our soul from the weight of its wicked in-clinations and its consequent gradual transformation in God. Building up the Body oI Christ As the religious grows in his vocation, he should grow also in a sense of his solidarity with the Churcli, the Mystical Body. He begins to see his sin and sinfulness in their social aspect. While clearly realizing that his sin is his own, for which he alone is responsible, he is more aware of the consequences of his sin on the organism of which he is a member--and this apart from the harmful effects that may come through bad example, coopera-tion, and so forth. He understands that the life that is in him is a shared lif~e; ~w, eakened with 'his'.~weakness, strengthened with his strength. It.is true that our liturgy today does not give such prominence to the social aspect of penance as in the old days when the penitent, after a period of public penance, was restored on Holy Thurs-day to the family life of the Church so that he might share the Paschal Bread of life with the other members of his family, the Church. Nor is there question of our religious being "restored" to the Church. But he begins to feel deeply his corporate responsibility, He is ashamed of the sinfulness that he brings to the immaculate Spouse of Christ. Aware of the lessening of love, as sin drains this Body anemic, he strives to replenish the blood ;stream with his love. He understands the general disappearance in the world of a sense of sin and rushes with his loving sorrow to make amends. If he be a priest whose mission it is to destroy sin in the world, he finds an added joy both in receiving and administering the sacrament. He offers God a soul in which He may work more purity, and thus "build up the Body of Christ" (Eph 4.9). And with this consciousness of his unity in the Mystical Body, a new dimension is added to his examination Of con-science, or rather a more acute awareness of his already existing obligation: his duty of charity; his responsibility for the spread of God's kingdom; his sins of omission through cowardice, selfishness, love of ease; the primacy of love. Meeting with the Three One beautiful but rarely stressed aspect of this sacra-ment is our meeting with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. While it is true that the glorified humanity of Jesus is the instrument of all our grace, it is still the Word of God who takes away sin. "Who can forgive sin but God alone?" (Lk 5:21), Every sacramental absolution is then the action of Jesus, the great high priest, acting through His representative, a man chosen from amongst sinners. And in receiving that absolution, I come in vital contact with Jesus. Here He bestows on me the grace of redemption. Jt is for this that He came into the world, as He prolongs into my soul the efficacy of His redemp-tive sacrifice. -The life that He gives, He won in His blood. It is this that causes such joy in heaven, more than over the ninety-nine just, this prolongation of the rich mysteries of His death and glorification, for me a new 4- 4- 4- Weekly Conlession VOLUMF 22, 1963 155 + ÷ ÷ P. W. O'Brien, SJ. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 156 baptism, as plunged into His death, I rise to a new or richer life. But often we are inclined to forget the part of the Father and the Holy Spirit. If there is pardon in the sacrament and grace of purification, it is because the Father loves us beyond all telling. "God [the Father] so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son." (Jn 3:16). In the pardon of the Son, I meet the love of the Father. And if there is life in the sacrament, it is because the Father, in giving His Son, gives us also the Holy Spirit who pours forth the charity of God into our hearts (Rom 5:5), this Spirit who cleanses, who burns away the impurities of our soul in the fire that He is. All this is brought out strikingly in the very institution of this sacrament of peace. It is as though the glorified Christ can hardly wait to begin pouring out the effects of His loving sacrifice. The very eve of Easter Sunday, He must come to His frightened Apostles in the upper room to give them power to forgive sin, First He shows them His wounds, the price of the sacrament, and the proof that it is really the glorified Christ in His human-ity. And then: " 'Peace be to you. As the Father has sent Me, I also send you.' When He had said this, He breathed upon them and said to them, 'Receive the Holy Spirit; whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven them; and whose sins you shall retain, they are retained' " (Jn 20:21- 23). The Father is there, prolonging in Jesus and through Jesus in the apostles, the love that fathered the redemp-tion. The Son is there, in His glorified humanity, com-municating the fruits of His redemptive offering. But first the Spirit must be given, for it is in the Spirit that the soul is led through the Son to the Father. What happiness for the faithful soul is this meeting in the sacrament with the ThreeI ]oy to the Heart of ]esus But if there is joy to the soul on meeting the Three, there is joy in the Three as They enrich the soul. For the eagerness of the soul to meet its God can never begin to match the love of God that goes out to meet the soul. "I have come that they may have life and have it more abundantly" (Jn I0:10). The entire life of Jesus, with all its sufferings, has been aimed precisely at moments such as these, when meeting with the soul, He can com-municate the graces won on Calvary. If love that is frus-trated and refused can be such a torment, Love that gives and is received can be immeasurable joy. It is this joy that is ours to give to Jesus as we open our hearts in sorrow to His purifying love. JACQUES LECLERCQ The Priest Today In a preceding article? on active lay people, I men-tioned the confusion of priests when they ask themselves what their purpose is since now in meetings of fill kinds lay persons make meditations and in general ~ssume a spiritual role. And yet. The Presence o] the Priest And yet the laity cling to the presence of the priest. It seems that something essential is missing if a priest is not present--this priest who does nothingl Things now are entirely different from what they used to be. For one thing, previously there were no meet-ings that resemble the ones of today. Formerly when the priest .took his part by preaching a sermon, the faithful listened and then left. Or at the time when study clubs began to be organized, the priest presided and directed, trying with more or less success to make the various mem-bers speak; and frequently he was the only one to do any speaking. Today, however, he is neither presiding officer nor director. He is rather a chaplain; he assists--in Italy he is called the assistente ecclesiastico [the ecclesiastical assistant]. At times one may have the impression that everything happens without him, but in reality there is nothing that happens without him. Everything happens with him; but this "with him" is something other than "under his direction." All of this is disconcerting for those who are accustomed to the authoritarian conceptions of former times. The priest does nothing, and yet he is indispensable. When lay persons form a spiritual group of some kind, one of their first concerns is always to have a chaplain; for without a chaplain it would seem that the group is unable to suc-ceed. Is there any way in which we can point out pre-cisely what it is that the priest provides? x In La revue nouvelle, a Belgian periodical, during 1962,. Canon Leclercq published a number of articles on the laity in the Church today. The present article is translated with permission from La revue nouvelle, September 15, 1962, pp. 171-84. 4. 4. 4. Canon Jacques Le- ¢lercq fives at 102, rue de Li/~ge; Beau-lays, Belgium. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS lacqu~s Le¢l~rcq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 158 The matter is a real puzzle, and it is being investigated from almost every angle. It is not a question of the sacra-merits. As is evident, it is the priest who distributes these. But the Christian life, as it is conceived today, is some-thing other than the sacraments. It is based on the sacra-ments; it is nourished by them; yet Catholic Action meet-ings, or meetings of workers or of managers, of students, of scotits and their leaders, have a purpose entirely other than that of receiving the sacraments; they are not even spoken of. Nor is it expected that the priest give an in-struction or a sermon. It is only expected that he be there, participating in the meeting with the rest. It would seem that from the Christian viewpoint some-thing is lacking to lay persons when they are left to them-selves., And yet it is a question of their own life, for it is they who must put into practice what they discuss. But at the same time it is a question of their own life insofar as it is Christian. From this point of view, it is necessary to have a priest in the midst of them. And I think that this expression "in the midst of them" is the exact one. A French priest, who works among the working class, has made the following remark on this point: I think that the people need a founder, someone who ~'will unite them in the charity of Christ. Lay persons can do some things, but they cannot be centers. Hence they need Someone who will be a religious center, a kind of church, for them. They do not only need Christians who are the presence of the Church, but they need above all a church in the sense of the Church realized in this community; they need someone who unites them and who is the head in the sense of being a father, not someone who commands but one who assembles and who is first ("T~moignage de M. Lelubre" in Etudes sur ,le sacre-merit de l'ordre [Paris: Cerf, 1957], p. 432). When this is reflected on, one sees very clearly the ap-pearance of the reality that is the Church. Christ continues His presence and His action by the Church. The Church is the people of God; and the people of God is constituted first of all by lay persons. In order to avoid giving the impression of tending towards laicism --which consists of excluding the clergy--let me say at once that the Church is both lay persons and priests, all of them together. But priests--all of them, even the bishops and the pope---exist for the laity, for the service of the laity. When it is said that they exist for the laity-- the pope himself is entitled the servant of 'the servants of God---this means that the people of God is essentially the laity, that it is to them that the divine life flows and that it is through them above all that it manifests itself. If the Church, according to the words of Scripture, is like a lamp that one lights and puts on a lampstand, this is the laity--Christian life in the family and in daily occupa-tions, The clergy, priests, religious are at the service of this. The result of their work is not that an elite may en-close itself within monasteries in order to live in God, nor even that Christian people in more or less great numbers may gather in churches to. ce,lebrate divine~worship; rather the result of their "dork is that through Christians Christ lives and acts in families and in the world. Priests and religious must sanctify themselves per-sona! ly in order to create a climate of holiness in the Church; but the result of the Church's holiness must be found in homes and in the world. When we use the word "world" [citd] here, we are envisaging professional, politi-cal, and social activities--all that can be called public life. It is to this that the life of Christ in the Church tends. Hence the Church is above all the laity; and it is through the laity that she first manifests her dynamism. But it is priests who form the laity in a Christian way. Priests :are men of the Church and men of God. '.Their function is to represent the Church; they exist only for this. ~ The lay person must be entirely Christian and at the same time something else besides; this shows forth the character of the Incarnation, that reality which is found only in Christianity. The Incarnation consists in this that the work and supernatural action of God is accomplished in and through nature. It has been frequently remarked that the supernatural is above the natural, but not contrary to the natural; it does not. suppress nature but elevates it; it transforms the natural, but it takes the natural into account. It constructs from, above; this can never be repeated too often if one wishes to comprehend what Christianity is. The kingdom of God, then, must be built up among men by taking due account of their nature. The Spirit of God transforms this nature to its depths; this is mani-fested exteriorly by the intention that animates action and by the choice which is made among various actions; .never-theless, these actions retain their .human character, and this must be remembered by those who are concerned with them. The Priest is Leaven Christ compared the kingdom of God to leaven that makes the dough rise; good bread can not be made with-out yeast. But yeast alone is not sufficient to make bread. Flour is needed, and the baker must be careful to secure good flour. It is necessary to knead the bread carefully. It must be baked in a good oven at the right temperature and for the right length of time and so forth. If the 4. 4. 4. The Priest Today VOLUME 22, 139 Jacques l.eclercq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 160 kingdom of God is like the leaven in bread, one can say that the priest is the depositary of this leaven; but it the laity who are like the bakers who must be occupied with all the conditions for the preparation of the bread. Moreover, it is they who must make use of the yeast. If the priest remains alone with his leaven, there will never be any bread; and if the bakers do not have the yeast, once again there will be no bread. Both are neces-sary. Now let us transpose all this into the entirety of life. The laity found homes and give life to the world. This obliges them to think of many things that in themselves are independent of the kingdom of God. It is to be noted that I have said "in themselves," for nothing is a stranger to the kingdom of God when one places it in the entirety of life. For example, parents must be concerned with the health of their children, their nourishment, their cloth-ing, their studies. The kingdom of God takes part in all this as a kind of preoccupation that orientates this activ-ity ir,.~ a certain measure, but only in a certain measure. And the same is the case with employers, workers, farmers, students, and so forth. But the priest is the man of God. He recalls the king-dom of God by his mere presence; one can say, by his existence, for he has no other purpose for existing. Theo-retically it should be sufficient that a priest be present for one to think of the kingdom of God. The word "theo-retically" is used because men are not perfect, and both priests and the laity are men. Nevertheless, this is the way reality is, and it is this that the laity perceive even when they cannot express it; it is this that leads them, when they are concerned with the kingdom or the way in which God should penetrate their life, to unite themselves around a priest. In brief, all the matters which.form the tissue of the llfe of the laity.are of importance for the kingdom of God; but they are not the kingdom of God. If, when they wish to discuss the repercussion of the kingdom of God on these matters, people gather together without a priest, the discussion easily slips over into the purely human condi-tions of activity; the presence of a priest, however, centers it upon the kingdom. Hence the laity need to have a priest present in their life. This also explains the desire of families to have times a visit from a priest. This is especially true in towns; but it differs from one locality to another, for we are discussing here the case of fervent Christians who desire that their faith influence their lives. In places where such Christians do not exist, the matter is quite different and needs to be discussed further. But to return to our subject, the visit of a priest to families is not a matter of giving a sermon or even of speaking principally about religion. It is a presence. Christian families enjoy having a priest in their homes. They want the priest to know them, their children, and their way of life. And this contributes to the general at-mosphere which reigns iri.~th~. home; th~"~ '6hversation spontaneously takes a vein different from the conversa-tion that is had with colleagues or with friends. And the fact that the priest is involved in their life permits all kinds of questions to be directed to him. The problem of the visit of a priest to families arouses a great many questions which can not be treated here, for they deserve an article to themselves. For the present, let us limit ourselves to pointing out these aspirations of good Christians. We are concerned with good Christians. As we pointed out previously, the Church cannot reach bad Christians or non-Christians except through the laity. The laity must be active or the Church will not take hold of the world; in the terms of the Gospel, she will be a light under a basket or leaven apart from the dough. But these active laity need the priest. Left to themselves, they are liable to be routed even in their interior life. In order that they may be united under the standard of Christ and that they may attack in an orderly way the problems of their interior life and of their Christian action in the world, the priest must be in the midst of them. In conclusion, let us note that in the Church at the beginning of this century the priest was occupied with a good many other things which were often profane; by reason of a tradition which dies away only slowly, many priests today are still taken up to a large extent by ad-ministrative and other activities which the laity would be better occupied with. The result is that priests are ab-sorbed by activities which are not suited to them; at the same time they are unavailable for groups of active Christians or they find it impossible to visi~ families. In any case, this new role of the priest is so important that there can be no Church without him. And the activ-ities that correspond to this role are so numerous and pressing that good priests are crowded with such activ-ities. And there is even the complaint that there are not enough priests. And yet what we have discussed so far is but one of the activities of a priest. Spiritual Action The action of leaven can not be seen; this results in difficulty for some because man has a body and is highly dependent on it. Man needs to see, and yet the soul and action on souls cannot be seen. ÷ ÷ ÷ The Priest Today VOLUME 22, ~.963 161 lacques Leclercq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS There are, first of all, the older priests of whom we have already spoken; for these the pastoral ministry is ex-pressed by material activities and they can not conceive any other type. Moreover, they do not conceive of any other priestly intervention than the authoritarian form of formal congregational meetings composed of a sermon and a greeting. Today, all this has become secondary, if indeed it has not been completely abandoned. Formerly when the priest spoke authoritatively, he gave directions in many matters (politics, for instance) which touched religion only very indirectly. At the present time, there is a growing agreement that priests are not to in-terest themselves in the temporal. However, many priests formerly were interested in nothing else. To the extent that this remains true, one can understand that they have the impression of no longer knowing what to do. This outmoded spirit dies out only slowly; in semi-naries as well as in houses of study of religious orders clerical formation likewise becomes transformed only slowly. One even finds young priests who think that, when they are with the laity, their role should be one of teaching and that they alone should do the talking. They find themselves ill at ease when persons are not disposed to listen to them first of all. Others still think that they must do everything themselves~determine the place, day, and hour of the meetings and issue the announcements. Again they feel discomforted when a group of active Christians organize everything without them and then come to invite them. We are living in an age of transformation. The older attitude with its way of doing things is gradually giving way. But some priests still retain the older attitudes and do not conceive the possibility of allowing the laity to act. On the other hand, many of the laity retain a purely passive conception of their role; not only do they leave everything to the priest, but they will do nothing if they are asked to take over a work. "Adult" lay persons (of whom I have been speaking) and priests adapted to such are still but few in number. Nevertheless, when one compares today with the be-ginning of the century, the transformation is unmistak-able. The essential thing is that this evolution continue and that the priest should more and more return to. the spiritual; that is, to the domain that belongs to him. But is "return" the correct word? He should rather aspire to it. But man is material, and the older conception gives satisfaction to a kind of unconscious materialism. Collaboration Formerly, one spoke only of authority and obedience. The faithful should obey, and nothing else was asked of them. Today, however, as we have seen, they are asked to think and to act for themselves. The meetings of active Christians have as their purpose a united program to enable the realization of the Christian ideal in the actual circumstances of life. Accordingly, the pri~est.is, no longer '~oncerned only with teaching; he listens and he invites the faithful to make their own personal contribution. This can be seen even in the matter of worship; the Mass has ceased to be a sacrifice offered by the priest alone at an altar distant from the people and in front of a congregation uncon-cerned with what he is doing, Now the Mass has become the community sacrifice offered by the priest an'd the faithful together, the priest being the spokesman of the community, the representative of the Church and of Christ, the celebrant of a sacrifice which belongs to the entire community. This is a profoundly changed state of affairs. Priests and laity act together. The Church is a single body and all of its members are active. This is a true resurrection. And by this very fact the priest has been strikingly ennobled, for he is no longer limited to being the shep-herd of a passive flock but has become instead the ani-mator of an active community. This change is to be found on all levels of the Church. The last and highest is that at the very center of the ChurCh, the See of Rome. Vati-can Council II gives witness to this transformation; and it is clear how John XXIII envisages the matter. His man-ner is not one like this: "Let the bishops say what they want, I shall do only what I want"; rather, his attitude is this: "I am deeply concerned to know the opinions of the bishops in order that I may take their advice into account." No one can derive from this the impression that pontifical power has thereby been lessened; but every-one does get the impression that the. Church forms one living body, animated by a movement of the whole. The role of the clergy is essential for the Church. When Catholicism is compared with Protestantism and with Orthodoxy, this role of the clergy is one of the most striking characteristics of the Church. Perhaps this ex-plains the retreat of the laity after the Reformation which placed the clergy in the background and in many cases even suppressed the priesthood and the ecclesiastical hierarchy. Now, however, the Church has recovered from this crisis; Christian life is now developing in its com-plete totality. Henceforth the Church will no longer be divided into the active Church composed of the clergy and the passive Church composed of the laity. The Church is a body ÷ ÷ ÷ The Priest Today VOLUME 22, 1963 ]63 ÷ ÷ ÷ Jacqo, es REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS I6,t of priests and laity together, living together, thinking together, acting together. As Cardinal Suhard put it: "The true achiever of evangelization is not the simple faithful nor the priest by himself; it is the Christian com-munity." The laity are fulfilling their role; the priest turn is free to be himself. Spiritual Counselor The direction of conscience has enjoyed a large place in the modern Church; it has been one of the principal instruments in the formation of a Christian elite. Never-theless, it has been especially concerned with women. When one reads the letters of the great spiritual directors, it is seen that they have been addressed almost exclusively to women. These women belonged to the higher levels of society. Today, however, as a result of the general spread of education and of the rise of active Christians, those who are concerned with the spiritual life are becoming more numerous and are to be found at all levels; they are found among workers and in the country as well as among the intellectuals. If it is necessary to practice direction of souls as it was formerly conceived, the clergy will be un-able to cope with it. But here once more, does not the spirit of collabora-tion profoundly transform conditions? Christians gather together with a priest to reflect on their Christian life; together they confront most of the questions that were formerly treated by individual conferences between the director and his spiritual child. In these conferences those seeking direction used to speak to their director not only of their interior life but of everything that con-cerned themselves. They asked their director's advice with regard to their relations with their husbands, with their children, and with their friends. They discussed the amount of freedom to be given their children, the amount of money to be given them, their clothes, companions, activities. Now all this is discussed in groups and in a way that is far more effective. Formerly, the person seeking direction would describe a situation to the director and he would decide the matter. The one consulting would act as though the director were omniscient, and he in turn would decide everything as though in fact he were. It was even taught as a received doctrine that the word of the director, was the word of God, that the director had the required graces of state, and that one should obey him blindly. Now it is realized that this was a false mystique, foreign to the Christian doctrine of the Incarnation; neverthe-less, it formed a coherent system. Christians concerned with the exigencies o[ morality would consult their con[essor on the matter o[ all their reading. No priest, however, can be acquainted with everything that is being published. The con[essor, i[ he believed himsel[ obliged to answer--and [ormerly the majority believed themsel~ces so obliged h~d~0 answer by guessing or had to make use o[ a systematic severity in order to avoid all risk o[ danger . And thereby/ other dangers were [allen into. From another viewpoint, there were husbands who op-posed the idea o[ their wives having a director o[ con-science on the grounds that they did not want between themselves and their wives a secret authority which the latter obeyed absolutely. Moreover, the women who con-suhed a director were usually women who were not mar-ried or who were unhappily married. This meant that spiritual direction had mixed in with it a purely human desire [or masculine support, and this in a proportion that is difficult to determine. All this has passed, and we have arrived at a much sounder state o[ affairs. All the matters that we have men-tioned are taken up today in groups. In [amily groups there are discussed today the problems o[ conjugal intimacy, o[ prayer in common, and the prayer o[ each o[ the spouses. In all kinds o[ groups, there is discussion o[ diversions, o[ entertainments, o[ reading, o[ the time to be given to recreation and to apostolic work, and o[ the problems o[ pro[essional li[e. Since the dil~erent kinds o[ groups are highly diversified, the questions that are confronted also differ greatly; nevertheless, the great part of matters that were [ormerly treated by individual direction is now considered by groups, each member con-tributing the results o[ his own experience; the priest has only to contribute his own element. The result is that while the number o[ Christians de-sirous o[ a Christian life that will dominate their entire existence is growing, the number of those who want direction o[ conscience in the individualistic sense of former times is diminishing. Even the phrase "spiritual director" is vanishing; the expression tod~y is that of "spiritual counselor." Everything is simplified; every-thing is developed in an atmosphere of collaboration that befits adult li[e. Hence, [or example, when a [amily group discusses the liberty to be given to children o[ different ages or the amount of money to be given them, solutions are reached that are more balanced and more realistic than those [ormerly obtained when the one consulting was limited to accepting the word of a director who was a stranger to the li[e o[ the [amily. Some Christians, however, still have recourse to a spiritual director after the older method, but they are The Pr~st ToOa~y VOLUME 22, 1963 165 ]~que, Leclegcq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS in general those who are slow to be caught up by the strong current that is sweeping through the Church and reanimating Christian life. Unfortunately they are still numerous, for a great many Christians as well as a great many priests remain immobilized in older conceptions. The movement that stresses the laity touches only a cer-tain sector and certain levels of the population. There are even entire regions where it is unknown. We are seeking here to emphasize the signs of this renewal, for we are sure that it is in this renewal that the future of the Church lies. That which is merely a prolongation of the past will fall as the world progresses. Undoubtedly, there will always remain certain ele-ments of the old direction of conscience, certain needs (more or less occasional) that will require personal, in-dividual contacts. In most of these cases confession will be sufficient. It is impossible to predict what will eventu-ally happen, but it is clear that everything is being sim-plified as the Christian animation of life grows. The Word Today much consideration is given to the ministry of the word; this again is a reaction against the past. Formerly, it was taken for granted that society was Christian. Children were instructed in religion, but no attention was paid to adults. Certain traditions, peri-odically restated by councils, obliged to a preaching directed to the instruction of the people; but actual practice had stifled the rule. One has only to recall what the state was of the ministry of the word. Now the word lives again; the most significant sign of this rebirth is undoubtedly retreats. The development of the spiritual life of active Christians has been accom-panied by the multiplication of retreats and periods of recollection. These have become so numerous that or~e can speak accurately in this connection in terms of a spiritual explosion. Retreats and days of recollection are organized in every walk of life: workers, business men, engineers, physicians, young persons of every category. Every time a group with a spiritual character is founded, retreats are organized. At the very time I am writing these lines, I have before me the bulletin of the Association of House-keepers for Priests, an organization that exists in France and Belgium; they, too, organize retreats and days of recollection. Moreover, undifferentiated retreats are also multiplying; these are directed towards all Christians and include without distinction both men and women, priests and laity. Once more we can note that formerly there were some retreat houses maintained by the Jesuits who pioneered them and by convents of women imbued by the Jesuit spirit; there was also a small number of persons who went to these houses for retreats. Today it is an immense move-ment. There are parishes which have retreat leagues com-posed of persons who make a retreat each- y.ear. In certain regions these leagues are systematically organized; in cer-tain dioceses of The Netherlands they are a regular insti-tution of every parish. And I am not speaking now of women, for women retreatants are even more numerous. Hence it is not a matter for astonishment that retreat houses are constantly being opened everywhere and that there are always too few of them. Rooms must generally be reserved in advance; and it can happen that a retreat must be canceled for lack of an available retreat house. But there is also need for priests. Preaching is par excellence a priestly duty. At the present moment the number of priests conducting retreats is legion. Formerly retreats were largely reserved to certain religious orders; but now many diocesan priests (pastors, chaplains, teach-ers) give them. Nevertheless, the number of retreat masters is still not sut~ciently large. As a general rule, it is very easy to find retreatants; retreat houses are more difficult to find; but hardest of all to find are priests. At the beginning of these articles, I recalled those who asked what was left for a priest to do now that there are active lay persons; the answer is that priests are needed for things that are genuinely priestlyl The Christian people have a hunger and thirst for the word of God, and those who can dispense it to them are not numerous enough. This is a matter of the priestly ministry par excellence. The tendency of today's priest is to occupy himself by preference in such ministries, for he feels himself the apostle of Christ in the strongest sense of that term; and he prefers to leave to lay persons the care of administra-tion. I have known a pastor who had to build a church; he appointed a committee of lay persons to raise the money while he himself conducted retreats. Perhaps the building of the church progressed a little more slowly than it would have had he devoted all his time to raising money, but he was at work shaping souls. All this also supposes a transformation in the clergy; for the majority of older priests, administrators of parishes, teachers of profane subjects, have been completely held back from conducting retreats. If they left this matter to religious, this was not without good reason. Today the importance of religious has not diminished, but retreat masters now come from every ecclesiastical sector. The Priest Today VOLUME 22, 167 $acques Leclercq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 168 Collaboration Once More Together with divine worship, preaching is un-doubtedly the chief priestly activity; and yet even here there is to be found an interchange of priests and laity. Retreats differ greatly. In some the retreatants are plunged into an absolute silence; the director gives them talks throughout the entire day. In this case the renewal of Christian life is marked by the radical character of the retreat--more contemplative, more silent than could have been borne before. But there are also retreats where with-out any lessened preoccupation with the spiritual an hour a day is reserved for an exchange of views; in this period each one can present his problems as he discerns them in the particular situation in which he finds himself. Persons of an older form of mind find it indiscreet to expose one's state of soul to the whole world. Formerly in a retreat one listened to the director who was the only one to speak; then purely profane recreation pe-riods were had, and the retreatants who desired it could consult the retreat master personally and individually. Often retreatants would bring up the same questions; the retreat master would always give the same answer. In general, the matters discussed were such that there was no compelling reason to keep them secret; hence it often happened that the retreatants told each other what the re-treat master had told them. Today all this is treated in a community session; every-one profits by it, and it produces a community spirit in the group. The retreatants feels themselves engaged in a common work. The divine life in us, our work for the service of God, are problems that interest all Of us to-gether. We no longer go to heaven alone; we go there with our brethren; indeed it is impossible to go there alone, for we depend on those who surround us. The king-dom of God is a community enterprise to which we belong and which we ought to undertake together. Even a re-treat is a community enterprise. In addition to this, it is now customary to have lay persons speak during a retreat. Retreats are par excellence a priestly work; nevertheless, it does happen that a layman is invited to speak of an aspect ofthe Christian life which he knows. One of my friends was invited by a teacher to speak to his students during the retreat at the end of their studies; the subject was the role of the Christian in the world; after the talk the teacher told him: "It does them much more good to hear all this from a layman." Likewise lay persons are invited to speak in seminaries. In a Canadian magazine I found a letter from Rome con-cerned with the matter expressed by Cardinal Sali~ge as "making use of the layman." The correspondent described how some theological students in Rome had invited a father of a family to speak to them of his Christian life. ¯. Montreal, Rome, Toulouse, and now this article which is to appear in Brussels and Buenos Aires--the problems are everywhere the same. Lay persons are eve~:ywher~e.;,~so also are,priests. They are together, shoulder to'~hourder. We cannot do without the one more than the other. What About the Others? The reader will have noticed that the lay persons dis-cussed here are the active la!ty who have grown into Christian maturity. What has been said is concerned only with the activity of a priest in relationship to such laymen. But what about the others--who compose the vast major-ity of men? Clearly, the groups of which we have spoken, the aware-ness of the exigencies of Christian life, and the giving of retreats are giving to Christians a shape and a form very different from that which they previously had. As we have already remarked, we are seeing a new Christian people appearing. But if these Christians remain among them-selves and if the clergy is concerned only with them, what changes will there be in the world as a whole? Whatever else may be said about this problem, it is true that they will always be there in the world. They are not isolated from the world: they are shopkeepers with a neighborhood store; they are factory workers and en-gineers; they are white-collared workers; they are physi-cians and druggists. They are everywhere. They come to-gether to arouse their Christian awareness; but afterwards they disperse and return to the mass. This is a slow work which one can judge only over long intervals. One can see, for example, that the position of Catholic literature in the world is today far different from what it was a hundred years ago. The same can be said for the position of Catholics in philosophy, in art, in politics. This is true, someone may say; but this is only a matter of a few leaders. To this I would answer that the remark is true; but every leader supposes a body of followers. If Catholic writers and artists today show both a talent and a conformity to the aspirations of the times which were not shown a hundred years ago, then this has happened be-cause the environment must have changed. And it is the same if Catholic philosophers are able to speak to the men of today. Such persons are perhaps the flower of Christianity; but the flower supposes the stem, and the stem in turn supposes the root. If I am the root, I need not be humiliated by the 4. 4. 4. The Priest Today VOLUME 2Z, ~.963 169 ÷ ÷ ÷ Jacques Leclercq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS fact that I am not seen; it is owing to me that the flower can charm the eye. The position of the Church in the world is, then, pro-roundly changed. And in the examples given above, it will be noted that this transformation has been achieved by lay persons. Writers like Claudel, Chesterton, Bernanos, Ger-trud yon le Fort have undoubtedly done more to attract men to Catholicism than any theologian and perhaps more even than any priest. But they have been in relation with a priest. In short, the role of the priest is exercised on the interior of the Church, on those who are united in the Church; it is these latter who thereupon go out to speak to the world. At times the complaint is heard ~that Christians barri-cade themselves within a ghetto, living by themselves without contact with the outside. The complaint is well founded; if they dose themselves up with each other, the salt will not be able to give its flavor. And it is true that there is a dangerous exclusivism, a fear of leaving a Christian background. This fear is a debilitating thing, for of all the emotions fear is the one that is most debasing. The spreading of ideas, and especially the Christian spreading of ideas, is done by the osmosis of personal con-tact; it is to be noted, however, that this notion of per-sonal contact is a wide one extending to the books that are read and the films that are seen. The action of Chris-tianity proceeds from the fact that the Christian environ-ment reflects Christ. A great many who were born and raised Christian turn from Christianity because they do not find Christ in the Christianity which has been pre-sented to them. What they need is for active Christians to give them an exact image of Christianity. Others, also educated as Christians, turn from Christianity when they perceive the demands it makes on them. The Church loses nothing when such quit her, for they discredit her in the measure that they are believed to represent her. This is the case with cei'tain governments which declare them-selves Catholic. This, then, is a question of the large numbers of Chris-tians who are lukewarm and indifferent. But there is an-other group, larger still, those who are not Christian:; at all. Among these the seed must be sown. Here, too, the role of the priest is essential. Father Vinatur in the text cited above remarked that the priest is a founder. It is true; Christianity is founded only by a priest. This is seen from the very beginning; in the Acts of the Apostles there is related the ministry of St. Paul; he is seen taking up his residence in a city, making some converts, and then leaving when Christianity has been set up and a member of the community--the priest--has been established as head. This is a permanent condition of things. Active lay persons can prepare the soil; they can arouse sympa-thetic interest; but a Christian community is.formed only when a priest comes. This.i~ true on all, levels of the Church. When Catholid Action was constituted with its appeal to assume a genuinely religious activity, it was priests who took the initiative in the matter. So also when the family movement was founded to concern itself with the Christian life of married persons, it was begun by priests. Lay persons came afterwards; in a certain sense, they ended by doing everything. But the priest remains, and he will never be able to be dispensed with. This, then, is the design of the new Church, animated by a Christian life which has not been known since early times, a Church of Christians all sharing in the life and action of Christ. This Church is but sketched in the reality before us at the present time; but this sketch is the image of what is being formed. The confidence which we can have for the future comes from the fact that Christ is living in this Church in a way that He has not since her early centuries. ÷ ÷ The Priest Today VOLUME 22, 196,~ 171 LADISLAS M. ORSY, S.J. From Meditation to Contemplation ÷ ÷ ÷ Ladislas M. Orsy, S.J., is professor of canon law at the Gregorian Univer-sity; Piazza della Pilotta, 4; Rome, Italy. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS The aim of this article is both practical and doctrinal: it is to give practical help for the difficult period of tran-sition from meditation to contemplation and to show the theological background of the change that takes place in the soul. Meditation in these pages means prayer with the help of concepts, images, and more or less enforced acts of will. Contemplation means silence before God, prayer in which the soul is transformed under God's powerful ac-tion. In meditation the accent is on activity, in contem-plation on passivity. In meditation the soul tries to reach God by thoughts, feelings, and desires; in contemplation God has reached the soul and works on it without thoughts, feelings, or desires. In meditation the soul fights its way towards God; in contemplation it should stand before God in poverty. Passivity and poverty are then the foundations for a new type of activity and for new riches that have their source in God's powerful ac-tion. Such a deep change in prayer affects the whole man: it is a change in personality. It is not without difficulties; Saint Teresa remarks that there is no time in the spirit-ual life when it is so easy to give up prayer altogether as the time when contemplation begins. God's Work in the Soul God is eternally present in the soul: it is His presence that gives it life and being, it is His presence that sancti-fies it. He is not only present, He is working in the soul, infusing light and love into our mind and love into our will power. His final aim is to take possession of our person so that we should be united to Him and be His adopted children for an eternity. God is eternally present in the soul. He was there since the moment of our creation; but at the moment of our baptism He came again, not in majesty but as a good friend, and made our soul His own dwelling house where He likes to remain. He brought sanctity and holiness with Him and transformed the soul. As when fire is made in a cold and dark r0on~ ~th~ place be~ome~ ~¢arm and full of light, so when God comes into the soul it is filled with warmth and light. It is clothed with immortality, it belongs to God's family, in a way it becomes divine. The new life the soul receives is called sanctifying grace, the new light in the mind faith, and the infused love in the will power hope and charity. They are all fruits of the presence of God; should He leave the soul, there would be dark and cold again. God works in the soul. There is not one moment of rest for Him. He is supremely good and happy, and He wants to share His rich goodness and happiness with others. Consequently, His sanctifying presence is in fact a work of continuous sanctification. Light and love are given to mind and will in abundance: light that we may see and better understand things divine,-.love that we may go towards God at a better pace. This action of God is peaceful and quiet: He does not like noise and agitation. It is this action that ought to be the source of all our thoughts and deeds; unless they proceed from God they will be empty and they will not bear any fruit for eternal life. God's aim is to take possession of our person. He is not satisfied with partial sanctification of His family. He wants to bring them into the very centre of His own life where the Father and the Son and the Spirit are one and where They know and love each other without end. To say that one does not want to be more than an ordinary good Christian (meaning by it that one does not want to be perfect) is to betray a lack of generosity and to show a great ignorance of God's intention who wants all His children to grow continuously and reach their full maturity in Christ. The extent of the necessary trans-formation is indicated by the distance (which each one easily realizes for himself) between God's purity and our impurity, between His charity and our own obscurity. Nevertheless, it is this complete transformation that is God's aim and nothing less. He has the means to achieve it: by the gentle action of His love in this world and by Purgatory in the other. No person who wants to see God can escape this cleansing process; and those who are generous will want to get through it soon, if possible, in this life. Such desire is not a presumption: it is no more than conforming our will to God's will. 4. 4. 4. Meditation to Contemplation VOLUME 22, 196~ 173 4. 4. 4. L. M.'Or~y, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]74 Meditation When God comes into the soul of man and wants to sanctify him, He encounters a great obstacle which is man's fallen nature with all that it entails: sin, attach-ment to worldly things, false judgments, and selbwill as hard as steel. Purification is necessary. It is mainly done by God, but man has his part in it as well. Meditation is one of the first steps in this cleansing process. Man has heard the voice of God and wants to obey Him and be near Him. But man's mind is not clear and clean enough to perceive the light that comes from God living in his soul, his will is not sensitive enough follow the inspirations of grace. It is literally embedded in mortal and perishing things, it is ruled not by God but by the senses. Training is necessary for both mind and will in order to lift them from the visible into the in-visible, from the tangible into the intangible, from the sensitive into the spiritual. Part of this training is what we call meditation. The mind has to be trained. It should be a training in divine truth so that our thoughts, ideas, judgments correspond to those of God and thus that the two minds be united as far as possible into one. This training is done by the soul in an active and discursive way when it meditates on the words of our Lord, on the mysteries of His life, on the Church. What the person does is to fill his mind with God's thoughts instead of his own. He is really trying to m~ike his mind a better instrument for the perception of God's inspirations, an instrument more adapted to receive God's light. It is a tuning-up or warm-ing- up process. The mind is bathed in the divine truth so that it may become divine. This is done in an active way, by reasoning, by considering the call of Christ our Lord or God's beauty in nature, or by imagining the Holy Family. Man is working his way towards God. The will has to be trained as well. The attraction of things eternal is fine and delicate, and our selfish will does not easily notice it. In order to become more sensi-tive to the action of grace, the selfishness of our nature and of our will in particular ought to be broken by con-tinuous exercise in mortification. The aim is that our will should become soft and flexible, attached to nothing, so that it may follow the will of God in everything. To attain that aim, one has to work hard and in an active way. One has to do penance, one has to give up many things, many of his likings, one has to be humble; and there is no dispensation from this work. Since the mind and will are active, activity predomi-nates at this stage of the spiritual life. But sometimes it may happen that a longing awakens in the soul after God Himself, a desire to meet the living God without any human speech, image, or idea. Words and pictures are created things; they do not satisfy the soul that has been created to see God face to face. The desire to meet God without passing through created images all the time may be a sign of better things to come. Transition Thoughts, perception, and feelings are all created things. If we are called to union with God, there must be a moment when they have to disappear since no hu-man person can be satisfied with looking at the picture of somebody he loves when personal contact is possible. Besides~ those acts may fulfill their purpose in the puri-fication of mind and will. Their nature being limited, their efficacy is limited too. I can penetrate the mind of God to a certain extent by meditating on the Gospel; I can follow the will of God to a great extent by trying to do what I think the best. But neither my meditations nor my good deeds have the power to cleanse my soul so well that I may truly say that God has taken possession of me and that I am no more than an instrument in His hand. The true cleansing is reserved to God. It is He who transforms the soul by infusing light and love into it in a more than ordinary measure; it is that light and love that sanctify and purify the whole man. 1. External Signs. The first sign to indicate that a per-son might have a "vocation" to contemplative prayer is that he does not find any more "taste" in meditation: he does not enjoy it any more in the best and spiritual sense of the word. Before, he was able to collect a great va-riety of fruit in his meditation: words and images paci-fied his soul and helped him to formulate good resolu-tions. Now he finds that his meditation is more like a dried-up fountain which does not contain fresh water. But not to have any "taste" in meditation is a purely negative sign: it might well be the indication of careless-ness or of drifting towards the world. Hence, a more posivite sign is needed to confirm that it is God who brought about the change. The positive sign will be a deep longing in the soul for God and a sincere desire to follow Christ our Lord in everything and to be con-formed to His image. A sincere desire that is manifest in deeds. The loss of "taste" in meditation and the longing for God are always coupled with a turning away from this created world. This loss of interest in created things, even if they are very good in themselves, is the third sign; and it is a natural consequence of what has taken place: 4. 4. Meditation to Contemplation VOLUME 22, 1963 ]75 ÷ 4. 4- when the soul is not satisfied any more with created con-cepts in its prayer, it cannot be satisfied with created things either. The change may be astonishing for the person concerned: he used to enjoy music and art, litera-ture and human company, and now he notices that they all leave him dry and empty. When all these signs are found together, loss of "taste" in meditation after it has been practiced for a fairly long time (which may vary from person to person), longing for God in solitude (the longing being confirmed by solid virtues in practice), and the consequent loss of good and legitimate pleasure in created things, then the person concerned may have the vocation to a simpler form of prayer. If these signs are not there, any attempt to leave be-hind meditation and practice another form of prayer, namely the prayer of simplicity, may be poisonous for the soul; it may weaken its spiritual life and it may even ruin the soul altogether. 2. An Explanation. The signs just described are ex-ternal, but what is happening internally in the soul? What is it that brought the change about? The answer is that gradually and in a hidden way God is taking possession of the soul and its facilities. As mind and will have been purified to a reasonable degree, though by no means perfectly, God's work on them~be-comes more intense. Light and love are being given in a larger measure than ever before, and the hand of God begins to shape the new man, the new creature of St. Paul, out of the old. It is as if the hand of God had touched the soul from behind and in the dark. The soul recognised the touch instinctively but could not see the person. It turned away from all creatures, whether con-cepts, images in prayer, or works of art, and conceived a longing for its Maker and Creator. Hence the loss of "taste" in meditation, longing for God, and the feeling of emptiness in the presence of created objects. God comes near enough to awaken a deep desire in the soul but not near enough to let the soul perceive something of God's beauty. It follows that for a while (and it may be a very long while) one may remain in the dark: all consolation from this world is lost, but no sen-sible consolation from the other world is coming. Per-haps it would be truer to say that though the heart is pure enough to feel the obscure touch of God, as yet it: is not able to receive the light in its fullness because of the many impurities that it still has. The result is darkness; and if one does not know what is happening it is easy to lose confidence and even to give up prayer altogether. In truth, it is a time of grace for the soul. 3. Some Practical Advice. If the signs for contempla-tion are there, it would not be wise to force oneself to make meditations in a strict and methodical form. One cannot turn the clock back, not even in the spiritual life. The time of predominantly active prayer, is over; now one has to learn how to~follow~the lead The first step towards more passivity should be the simplification of prayer. Intellectual considerations dur-ing prayer time should be left out as much as possible. Their place should be taken by simple acts of faith, hope, and love, which are the beginning of any prayer and the fruit of the best of prayers. The soul should .learn how to come back to the same idea again and again and find peace, joy, and "taste" in it. Also there should be a tend-ency towards greater receptivity, but with prudence and wisdom. God likes to take His time; He likes to build slowly and gradually. Our duty is to follow the move-ments of His grace: we should not try to go any faster than He wants us to go nor should we lag behind. The adaptation to this new way of life in which it is God who holds the initiative is bound to be a long process. It is not an exaggeration to say that it is a change in our personality. It is bound to affect everything in our life, our way of thinking, working, and our relations with other persons. A likeness to Christ our Lord is being formed in us. After the initial difficulties a long period of peaceful development may ensue. Prayer will be a mixture of ac-tivity and passivity; but if the soul is faithful, it may reach the stage in which the main rule is passivity. A passivity that leads to a readiness to do the will of God and to a very practical love of God and our neighbour. One final remark is necess

Issue 17.5 of the Review for Religious, 1958. ; A. M. D. G. Review Reli¢ious SEPTEMBER 15, 1958 St:. Th6r~se of t:he Holy Face . . , Barnabas Mary Ahern The Neurotic Religious . . . Richard P. Vaughan The General Chapl:er . Jd.seph F. Gallen Practical Menl:al Prayer? . Edward blagemann Book Reviews Questi.ons and Answers Roman Documents about: The Peace of Christ The Use ot: Latin Moral Problems in Psychology VOLUME 17 NUMBER 5 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS VO~.UME 17 SEPTEMBER, 1958 Nv~s~z 5 CONTENTS ST. TH~R~SE OF THE HOLY FACE-- Barnabas Mary Ahem, C,P . 257 SOME BOOKS RECEIVED . 270 THE NEUROTIC RELIGIOUS--Richard P. Vaughan, S.J .2.7.1 THE GENERAL CHAPTERmJoseph F. Gallen, S.J .2.7.9 SURVEY OF ROMAN DOCUMENTS--R. F. Smith, S.J .290 OUR CONTRIBUTORS .300 HOW SHOULD MENTAL PRAYER BE PRACTICAL?E Edward Hagemann, S.J . 301 BOOK REVIEWS AND ANNOUNCEMENTS: Editor: Bernard A. Hausmarm, S.J. West Baden College West Baden Springs, Indiana . 307 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS: 30. Secular Institutes Assisting Religious . 317 31. Avoiding Responsibilities of Common Life .318 32. Spirituality Founded on the Will of God .319 33. Higher Superiors Who Do Not Understand American Conditions . 320 34. Sisters Studying Privately . 320 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, September, 1958, Vol. 17, No. 5. Published bi-monthly by The Queen's Work, 3115 South Grand Blvd., St. Louis 18, Mo. Edited by the Jesuit Fathers of St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approval. Second class mail privilege authorized at St. Louis, Mo. Editorial Board: Augustine G. Ellard, S.J.; Gerald Kelly, S.J.; Henry Willmering, S.J. Literary Editor: Robert F~ Weiss, S,J. Copyright, 1958, by The Queen's Work. Subscription price in U.S.A. and Canada: 3 dollars a ~ear; 50 cents a copy. Printed in U.S.A. Please se~d all renewals and new subscriptions to: Review for Religious, 3115 South Grand Boulevard. St. louis 18. Missouri. Th r6se ot: t:he I-Ioly Face Barnabas Mary Ahern, C.P. AsK ANYONE khe convent name of the Little Flower, The ~answer will always be--Sister'Th~rb'se'of the" Child Jesus. Somd perhaps wiil kno~v that she"bore another title, that h'~r full namd Was Sistdl Th~r~e of 'the Child Jesus ani~ of the Holy FacE. 'But people prefer the short form of .her name~ riot 0nly because' ik is easier to Write, but als6 because it breatkies "the ~vhole spirit of her life. To the world at large she will 'alw'a~,s! be the ""little" saint of the" divine Child, who became holy by imitating His simplicity and lowliness. It is surprising, then, to read the words of Mother Agnes of Jesus, the older sister and "little mother" of Th~r~se, who knew her better than an~,one 'else. In~' 'the process of~ beatifica-tion she stated clearly: "The Servant of God felt especially drawn to devotion to 'the Holy Face. Her devotion to the Child Jesus, tender as it was, is"not to "be compared with" the devotion she felt for the Hol~ Face." This does not mean that the popular notion of the Little Flower's love" for' the divine Child is unfounded or that men have exaggerated the childlike simplicity of her way of holiness. But it is a reminder that to ~appreciate the full strength, of her holiness we. must remember that she was also Th~k~se of the Holy Face. She" did not always bear~ this title~ On first entering Carmel in April, 1888, she Was happy to reci~ive the name, Th~r~e of the Child Jesus; for it expressed "the great 10re of her young heart.' Up to that time the. "mysteries of the divine infancy had been both the'. inspiration and the model of her spiritual striving. But once in Carmel, Th~r~se often heard her sister, Agnes of Jesus, speak fervenyly of lov~ for the Holy Face, a devotion 257 BARNABAS MARY AHERN Review for Religiou~ that every French Carmel cherished because of a tradition that, in 1845, Sister Saint-Pierre of the Carmel in Tours had received several striking revelations on the meaning and power of this devotion. Our Lord asked for new Veronicas to com-fort Him by reparation for the sins of blasphemy and the sins against faith that had covered His countenance with pain and filth during the hours of the Passion. His words were poig-nant: "I seek Veronicas to wip~ my divine Face and to honor this Holy Face which has so few adorers!''1 At the same time He promised Sister Saint-Pierre that, by means of this devotion, she would work wonders: "Just as the King's image is a talisman through which anything may be purchased in his kingdom, so through My adorable Face--that priceless coin of My humanity --you will obtain all you desire.''~ Mother Genevieve of St. Teresa, foundress of the Lisieux Carmel, wove this devotion into the .very life of her community; and Agnes of Jesus, a devoted disciple of Mother Genevieve, made it her own in a special, way. Therefore, her words to ThSr~se glowed with a strong, personal devotion and burned an indelible memory. For the young saint often repeated Agnes's teaching in her later writings. Thus Christ's request for "new Veronicas" recurs in her letters, while His promise to regard this devotion as a "priceless coin" inspired one of her most beautiful prayers. But this. unveiling of the Holy Face did much more than present a new object of devotion. It opened away of life and provided a "home" and a "heaven" during, the nine. years she spent in Carmel. "It was at the threshold of her life as a nun that Th~r~se, encouraged by Mother Agnes of Jesus, awoke .1 Abb~ Janvier, l/ie de la $oeur Saint-Pierre, 3 ed. (Oratoire de la Sainte-Face: Tours, 1896), p. 230. 2 Ibid., p. 234. 258 September, 1958 ST. THI~R~SE " to the devotion which rapidl~ took a very individual, very pro-found, orientation in her soul.''3 Even a cursory glance at her convent life gives an instant impression of the preponderant influence of her love for the Holy Face. Within eight months after entering, she was so devoted to it that, at the time of her clothing, January 10, 1889, she asked to add the title, "of the Holy Face," to her previous religious name. This meant that ever after she would strive to be not only a joyful adorer in the stable of Bethlehem, but also a devoted Veronica tenderly ministering to the bruised and bleeding face of the humble Man of Sorrows. This love in-spired many of her poems and most of the prayers which she composed for herself or the novices. She frequently mentioned it in her letters and painted its image on chasubles and memen-tos. A small prayer-card representing the Holy Face always rested on her breviary when she recited Divine Office and on her choir stall when she made mental prayer. During her long illness she kept this picture pinned to the b~d-curtain to strength-en her in suffering. Thus the Holy Face was truly "a radiant sun" illuminating her whole religious life. This orientation took place early in her life at Carmel. In June of 1888, two months after entering, she entrusted her soul to the spiritual direction of a remarkable Jesuit retreat-master, P~re Pichon, only to lose him a short time later when he was transferred to Canada. She describes the occurrence in her autobiography: Hardly had Father Pichon undertaken the care of my soul when his superiors sent him to Canada, and I could not hear from him more than once in the year. It was then the Little Flower which had been trans-planted to the mountain of Carmel turned quickly to the Director of directors and gradually unfolded itself under the shadow of His cross, having for refreshing dew His tears and His blood, and for its radiant sun His adorable Face. 3 Note to L6tter LVI, from ,The Collected Letters of Saint Th~r~se o/ Lisieux, edited by the Abb~ Combes, translated by F. J. Sheed, copyright 1949, Sheed and Ward, Inc., New York, p. 88. All subsequent references to the letters of the Little Flower will be given in the notes as C. L., referring to this definitive English trans-lation. 259 BARNABAS MARY AHERN Review for Religious Until then I had not appreciated the beauties of the Holy Face, and it was you, my little Mother, who unveiled them to me. Just as you had been the first to leave our home for Carmel, so too were you the first to penetrate the mysteries of love hidden in .the Face of our Divine Spouse. Having discovered them you showed them to me--and I under-stood . More than ever did it come to me in what true glory consists. He whose "Kingdom ig rmt of this world" taught me that the only king-dom worth coveting is the grace of being "unknown and esteemed as naught," and the joy that comes of self-contempt. I wished that, like the Face~ of Jesus, mine "should be, as it were, hidden and despised," so that no one on earth should, esteem me: I thirsted to suffer and to be forgotten.4 These words contain the chie~ elements in the life she was to lead for the next nine years. The consecutive series of her letters makes clear that love for the Holy Face became the dominant motif in her spiritual striving. She found inspiration in "the mysteries of love" hidden there and made it her constant aim to seek likeness with Christ crucified through suffering and being forgotten. In a true sense, this devotion became for her one of those great directive graces which shed new light upon the_spiritual way. Ever after Th~r~se walked with eyes fixed on the disfigured beauty of the face of Christ, following the course of His Passion step by step. There was nothing of "conversion" in this new orientation. It took place quickly because she was so well prepared for the way of life which this devotion requires. A glance at her earlier years explains how and why the Holy Face became so soon the "radiant sun" of her years in Carmel. She tells us, "A sermon on the Passion of our Blessed Lord was the first I thoroughly understood, and I was profoundly ~ouched. I was then five and a half." The years that followed abounded in the sharp, personal sufferings of a highly sensitive temperament. But love for Christ only grew stronger through the trials she endured. Therefore, even before entering Carmel, 4 Saint Therese o[ Lisieux, autobiography edited by T. N. Taylor (P. &'Sons: New York, 1926), p. 125. All the quotations throughout the of the article, unless the contrary is specifically indicated, are taken autobiography. 26O j. Kenedy remainder from this September, 1958 ST. TH]gR£SE she was ready for that new light on the Passion of Christ which urged her to tireless teal for souls. She describes this grace in her autobiography: One Sunday, on closing my book at the endof Mass, a picture of the crucifixion slipped partly out, showing one of the Divine. Hands, pierced and bleeding. An indescribable thrill, such as I had never before experienced, passed through me; my heart was torn '~vith grief al the sight of the Precious Blood falling to the ground, with no one caring to treasure it as it fell. At once I resolved to remain, continuously in spirit at the foot of the Cross, that I might receive the divine dew of salvation and pour it forth upon souls. ~ From that day, the cry of iny. dying Savior: "I thirst!" resounded incessantly in my heart, kindling within it new fires of. zeal. To give my Beloved to drink was my constant desire; I was consumed with an insatiable thirst for souls, and I longed at any cost to snatch them from the everlasting flames of hell. Shortly after, she heard of the impenitence of the mur-derer Pranzini. Here was an opportunity to labor in the new field which love for Christ" had opened before her. She pleaded for _the criminal's conversion and by her prayers obtained it. Before execution Pranzini" "seized a crucifix which the prie.st he/d towards him, and kissed our Lord's Sacred Wounds three times!" The e.xl~erience ~onfirmed Th~r~se in her new way of showing love for Christ: ~he writes: After.this answer to prayer, my desire for the salvation of souls increa~sed day by day. I seemed to hear our Lord whispering to me as He did to the Samaritan woman: ';Give me to drink.". It was truly an exchange of love: I poured out the Precious Blood of Jesus upon souls, and that I might quench His thirst, I offered to Jesus these same souls refreshed with the dew of Calvary. But the more I .gave Him to drink, the greater bei:ame the thirst ofmy own poorsoul, and this was indeed my most precious reward. . ,] "/ .~ ¯ ¯ _,~.;The young Therese had also learned how necessary it is to strive for true humdtty tf one ~s to love God perfectly. Prob-ably this conviction came .to her through constant reading of the Imitation of Christ, where the theme recurs, "Love to be unknown and to be accounted "as nothing.''5 Experiences in 5 Cf. Therese s statement: "For a "long time I had sustained my spiritual life on the 'fine flour' contained in the lmitation~o[ C/irist: It was the only book from which I derived any good . I always carried it about with me." 261 BARNABAS I~IARY AHERN Review for Religious her own life confirmed the wisdom of this rule. For by the age of fifteen Th~r~se had learned that man's praise is like "a vapor of smoke," so that later she wrote of ~his period: "I understood the words of the Imitation: 'Be not solicitous for the shadow of a great name,' and I realized that true greatness is not found in a name but in the soul." Thus, even before entering Carmel, Th~r~se already possessed the mature wisdom that unless one constantly seeks the last place he will never'be fully happy. She had learned, too, that suffering must play. an important role in her life. This conclusion flowed directly from her great love of the divine Child, the devotion that sanctified her girl-hood. Writing of the trials she endured during her pilgrimage to Rome in 1887, she says, For some time past I had offered myself to the Child Jesus, to be his little plaything; I told him not to treat me like one of those precious toys which children only look at and dare not touch, but rather as a little ball of no value that could be thrown on the ground, tossed about, pierced, left in a corner, or pressed to His heart, just as it might please Him. In a.word, all I desired was to amuse the Holy Child, to let Him play with me just as He felt inclined. This is the Th~r~se who entered Carmel--Th~r~se of the Child Jesus. Her soul was rich with the strong virtues of love, humility, self-abandon, and zeal. She knew the meaning of the Passion of Christ and knew, too, that love for Him means love for souls. She was ready, then, for the great grace that came to her in the first days of convent life--the unveiling of the Holy Face before the eyes of her soul. She gazed upon it with rapt love, for it was the face of "the Lord whom she cherished with her whole heart. Ever after, she made special thanksgiv-ing for this grace-filled discovery on the feast of the Transfig-uration, when "His face shone as the sun." But it was, above all, the disfigured face of the suffering Christ that formed the special object of her devotion and the dominant inspiration of her life. That is why at the close of her life, looking back on her years in Carmel, she was able to say, "Those words of Isaias, 'There is no beauty in Him, nor comeliness; and His look was, as it were, hidden and despised,' are the basis of my 262 September, :1958 ST. TH~R~SE devotion to the Holy Face,~ or rather, the 'kiasis of my whole spirituality.''° So it was. The disfigured countenance of the suffering Christ diffused a soft glow over her whole life showing her how every incident offered opportunity to renew Veronica's act of love and to deepen her own resemblance to Him. All things worked together to strengthen this new influence. For the first month at Carmel brought Th~r~se special trials that were to last until the end. "From the very outset," she writes, "my path was strewn with thorns rather than with roses." The superioress frequently humiliated her, and others also pro-vided her ample opportunity "to be accounted as nothing." Then, too, though she lived so close to her. two sisters and loved them dearly, she strove for perfect detachment; this led to misunderstanding and frequent sorrow. But these "pin-pricks" were nothing in comparison with the crucial suffering that struck its blow two months after she entered. The aged father who was dearer to her than any other on earth suddenly became a helpless inv.alid partially paralyzed both in mind and body. Cloistered in Carmel, Th~r~se and her two older sisters, Agnes of Jesus and Marie of the Sacred Heart, were unable to help him or even to see him. All care devolved upon Celine, the only sister who still remained at home. This separa-tion from her stricken father and the ceaseless worry it occa-sione. d formed a crushing cross that .lay heavy upon Thbr~se until his death six years later. She had good reason to write, ' "I can truly, say that . . . suffering opened wide her arms to me from the fii:st." It was precisely at the beginning of these trials that her sifter Agnes spoke of the .Holy Face. What she said we do not know; but she must have spoken warmly and competently, for Th~r~se always regarded her as a special apostle of this devotion and declared that, of all her sisters, Agnes was "the first to penetrate the mysteries of love hidden in the Face of our Divine Spouse." o L'EsiOrit de Sainte T/terese de l'Eni~nt .]esus, edited by the Carmel of Lisieux ¯ ('Office Central de Lisieux), p. 131. 263 BARNABAS MARY AHERN Review for Religious As for Th~rhse herself, the Holy Face became her all. She gazed upon it in the. disfigurement of the Passion, when bruises and wounds and filth so hid the beauty of .Christ's coun-tenance that He could hardly ~be recognized just as the Pro-phet had foretold,."There is. no.beauty in. Him, .nor comeli-ness: and we have seen Him, and there was'no sightliness, that we should be desirous of Him: despised and the most abject of. men, a man of sorrows and ~acquainted with infirmity; and his look was as. it were hidden and despised . and .we. have thought Him as it were a leper, and as one struck by. God and afflicted" (Isa. 53:2-4). Yet for Th~r~se this disfigured face was the mirror of the Sacred Heart; its very sufferings were radia.ntly beautiful with the love and tender, mercy ~hat:prompted Christ to accept all. '~'In this we have come o to know His love, that He laid down His life for us" (I Jn. 3:16). Even more the thorn-crowned Holy Face was luminous with the light of divinity3, for its very unsightliness shone with "the: goodness and kindness of God our Savior." Therefore, she fixed her gaze upQn this countenance, because she knew that this poor sufferer, was the very God who loved her infinitely. In her eyes His disfigurement was at once the veil hiding His divinity and the mirror revealing His infinite love. "The' veil hiding His divinity . " This truth meant a great, deal to the young Carmelite. Dafighter of St. John of the Cross,-she knew well his sublime teaching: God is "hidden from the soul, and it ever-beseems the soul, amid ~' all these grandeurs, to consider Him as hidden, and to seek Him as one hidden.''~ This is precisely what she did through her devotion to the Holy Face. She always sought her beloved Lord, in the hiding-place of His pain and ignominy, because she could see the "radiant sun" of" His divinity gleaming through the veil of His wounds and bruises. That is why she asked, "Let Jesus take the poor grain .of sand [herself] and hide it in' His Ador- St. John of the Cross, T/te $1~iritual C.anticle, translated by E. Allison. Peers (B~irns, Oates and Washbourne: London, 1934), II, p. 32. ~ 264 September, 1958 able Face . There the poor atom will have nothing more to fear.''s Thus the thought of the Holy Face meant for her ~peace and rdpose; for it meant the presence of God who is always the refuge of His poor, vexed creatures. She wanted others too to share her sublime confidence that to love the Holy Face is to" be safe in the hiding place of God. Therefore, the act of consecration which she composed for the novices concludes wi~h' tl~ese words, "Since,Thou art the true and only Home of Our souls, our songs shall-not be sung in a strang.e land. . Dear Jesus, Heaven for us is Thy hidden face!''9 ' Time and again she had seen Him bow His' thorn-crowned head beneath the burden of man's ingratitude and had heard Him whisper with bruised lips the word of divine forgiveness. For Th~r~se, then, the Holy Face was not only a veil hiding His divinity; it was also a mirror reflecting the tender love of the Sacred Heart. This conviction glows in her words to Celine: "Jesus burns with 10ve for us--look at His adorable Face. Look at His glazed and sunken eyes! . . . Look at His wounds .Look Jesus in the face! . . . There you will see how He loves us.'~° The same thought recurs in a feast-day greeting which she gave to M6ther Agnes on January 21, 1894. The card which she herself had painted represents the Child Jesus hold-ing flowers in His hand and, in the background, the Holy Face and the instruments of the Passion. She. added this note: His little hand"does not leave the flowers which gave Him such pleasure . [Soon, He catches glimpses in,the distan, ce of strange objects bearing no resemblance to spring flowers. A cross! . . . a lande! . . . a crown of thorns! Yet the divine Child does not tremble. All this He cho.oses, to show His bride how He loves her! But it is still not ~enough, His STo Sister Agnes (1890), C. L., p. 127. 9 This same theme is developdd at ie~gth in her Canticle oi the Holy Face, a poem. ~°To Celind, (April 4, 1889), C. L.,.p. 98. 265 ]~ARNABAS MARY AHERN Review for Religious child face is so beautiful, He sees it distorted and bleeding! . . . out of all likeness! . . . Jesus knows that His spouse will always recognize Him, will be at His side when all abandon Him, and the divine Child smiles at this blood-streaked imageJ1 yBut true love hastens to draw love's conclusions. Th~r~se saw plainly that if the great God chose to be hidden out of love for His creatures, then she must become hidden out of love for Him. This was the clear teaching of St. John of the Cross: . [God] is hidden . Wherefore the soul that would find Him through union of love must issue forth and hide itself from all created things . And it must be known that this going out is understood in two ways: the one, a going forth from all things, which she does by despising and abhorring them; the other, a going forth from herself, by forgetting and neglecting herself, which she does in holy abhorrence of herself through love of God.12 ¯ All this became a normal practice for the young Carmel-ite, because of her love for the Holy Face. She knew that" Christ had suffered the forgetfulness and insults of men. There-fore she spent her nine years of convent life seeking to be hidden from all, even from herself. The way of humility that He trod was her way. She encouraged the novices, too, to follow Him and had them pray: "O Beloved Face of Jesus . . , our. only desire is to delight Thy divine eyes by ,keeping our faces hidden too, so that no one on earth may recognize us." She was more explicit in a letter to Celine wherein she develops the teaching of St. John of the Cross on the "hidden" way : to God: Celine dearest, rejoice in our lot, it is very lovely! . . . If Jesus hac~ chosen to show Himself to all souls with His ineffable gifts, surely not "one would have spurned Him; but He does not want us to love Him for His gifts; it is Himself that must be our reward. To find a thing hidden, we must ourselves be hidden, so our life must be a mystery! We must be like Jesus, like Jesus whose look was hidden (Isa. 52:3) . "Do you want to learn something that may serve you?" says the Itl~itation: "Love to be ignored and counted for nothing. : . ." And in another place: "After you have left everything, you must above all leave yourself; let ~1 To Mother Agnes (January 21, 1894), C. L., p. 216. 12St. John of the Cross, 0~. cir., pp. 33, 36. 266 September, 1958 one man boast of one thing, o~ne of another; for~you, place your joy only in the contempt of yourself." May these words give peace to your soul, my Celine.~3 Hence, Th~r~se was always happy when the veil of humilia-tion settled down upon those whom she loved. The day her sister Agnes was chosen prioress, unpleasant Circumstances cast a gloom over the election. That evening Th~r~se wrote her a note: ¯ Oh, how lovely a day it is for your child! The veil Jesus has cast over the day makes it still more luminous to my eyes; it is the seal of the adorable Face . Surely it will always be so. "He whose look was hidden," He who continues hidden in His little white Host. will spread over the whole life of the beloved apostle of His divine Face a mysteri-ous veil which only He can penetrate.~4 If this is what she desired for others, how much more complete was the oblivion she desired for herself. She devised every means of hiding her acts of virtue and rejoiced wfienever she was set aside or treated with contempt. In a letter to Agnes she expressed her earnes~desire to share the humiliation and oblivion of the Passion: Pray for the poor little grair~ of sand. "May the grain of sand be always in its place, that is to say beneath everyone's feet. May no one think of it, may its existence be, so td speak, ignored . The grain of sand does not desire to be humiliated, that would still be too much glory since it would involve its being noticed; it desires but one thing "to be FORGOTTEN, counted as nought!" But it desires to be seen by Jesus. The gaze of creatures canndt sink low enough to reach it, but at least let the bleeding Face of Jesus be turned towards it.~ Humility and meekness, silence and self-effacement--these virtues that shone so. luminously on the face of the suffering Christ were the virtues that Th~r~se strove to make her own. At any cost she wanted to resemble Him perfectly. Thus the burden of her prayer became the all-inclusive desire, "O Ador-able Face of Jesus, sole' beauty Which ravishes my heart, vouch-safe to impress on my soul Thy Divine likeness, so that it may not be possible for Thee to look~at Thy spouse without behold- ~aTo Celine (August 2, 1893), C. L., pp. 197-98. ~4To Mother Agnes (February 20, 1893), C. L., p. 183-84. 15 To Sister Agnes (1890), C. L., pp. 126-27. 267 BARNABAS MARY AHERN Revieiv for Religious ing Thyself~" Our Lord fulfilled this request to the letter; for at the hour of death her inward dereliction and outward pain, her burning love and wholehearted surrend'er, made her a living image of the suffering Christ on Calvary. Naturally enough, this devotion to the Holy Face was rich in fruitfulness. Contemplating it, she saw how dearly Christ loves all souls and how much she must labor to awaken men to the pleadings of His Sacred Heart. Thus, in one of her prayers she cries out, "In that disfigured countenance I recognize Thy infinite love, and I am consumed with the desire of loving Thee and of making Thee loved by all mankind." Therefore she was ready to do and to suffer anything if only she might gain souls for the Lord whom she loved so ardently: "At any cost the grain of sand wants to save souls." Time and again she reminded those who shared her devotion that, "like other Veronicas, they must comfort Christ who has already suffered so much. Thus she wrote to Celine who was nursing their father in his long illness: I am sending you a lovely picture of the Holy Face . Let Marie of the Holy Face10 be another Veronica, wiping away all the blood and tears of Jesus, her sole beloved! Lei her win Him souls, especially the souls she loves! Let her boldly face the soldiers, that is to 'say the world, to come to Him.17 +So, tOO, she asked the novices to pray, We desire t~ wipe Thy sweet Face, and to console Thee for the contempt of the wicked . Give to us souls, dear Lord . We thirst for souls !--above all, for the souls of Apostles and Martyrs . . . that through them wd may inflame all poor sinners.with love of Thee! She was supremely confident of her power to realize ~these desires; for the Holy Face. itself was,~her treasure. Our Lord had promised Sister Saint-Pierre that she could use it. as a, priceless coin to obtain all her desires. Relying ~on this promise, Th~r~se prayed, 16 On entering the Convent, Celine received this name which The¯r e"se here an~ici-" pates. However, it was later changed to Sister Genevieve of St. Teresa, although after Celine had become famous for her artistic reproduction of the Holy "Face from the shroud of Turin she became known as Sister Genevieve of the Holy Face. 1~" To Celine (October 22, 1889), C. L., pp. 115-16. 268 , September, 1958 ST. TH~R~SE Eternal Father, since .Thou~h'ast given~me~f0r my inheritance the Adorable Face of Thy Divine Son, I offer that Face to Thee, and I beg Thee, in exchange for this coin of infinite value, to forget the ingratitude of those souls who are consecrated to Thee, and to pardon all poor sinners. She was utterly confident that God would refuse no request when one begged Him, "Look on the face of Thy Christ" (Ps. 83:10). Devotion to the Holy Face, therefore, influenced her whole spiritual life. On entering Carmel she already possessed the virtues of charity, ~zeal, 'and humility;. She Was bully pre-pared to suffer for Christ and to meet each new demand of His love. What her convent life would have been if she had not "discdvered" the Holy Face we do not know. But it is certain that once she penetrated its mysteries of love; once she became Th~r~se of die Holy Face, her" holiness.gained new depth, and new earnestness. It was indeed significant that a picture of the Holy Face 'in the con~,ent corridor inspired her to write the poem which best expressed her spirit,~ "To Live of Love." It was natural, then, that her. hope for heaven found ex-pression in a desire to gaze upon the Holy Face. She prayed to be inflamed with love and to be consumed quickly, "that soon Th~i~se of the Holy Face'may beh'old ~Thy glorious coun-tenance in Heaven." SO, too, when the trials of her father's illness were most acute, she encouraged Celine with the words, "Tomorrow . in an hour, we.Shall: be in harbor, what- happi-ness! Ah! how'good it will be ~b contemplate Jesus face 'to face" for all ete n ty./~he had found, such beauty in the hidden, suffering face of. Christ here upon earth that her soul Was ravished .by the "thought of what she would see in heaven: . Yes, the face ~of Jesus is luminous; but if it is so beautiful .with all its wounds and tears, what shall it be when we see it" in Heaven? Oh, Heaven . . . Heaven! Yes, one day to see the Face of Jesus, to contemplate the marvellous beauty of Jesus eterpally . Ask Jesus that His grain of sand may hasien to save mary souls in little time that it may the sooner fly where His beloved Face is . ~STo Celine (July 14, 1889), C. L., p. 111. 269 BARNABAS MARY AHERN I suffe!! . . . But the hope of the Homeland gives me courage; soon we shall be in Heaven . There, there will be neither day nor night any more, but the Face of Jesus will bathe all in ;a .'light .like no other.19 Thus love for the Holy Face "took a very individual, very profound orientation in her soul." God alone knows all that it meant to her. But we can glimpse a little of this in the beau-tiful prayer that Th~r~se herself composed: O Jesus, Who in Thy cruel Passion didst become the "reproach .of men and the Man of Sorrows," I worship Thy Divine Face. Once it shone with the beauty and sweetness of the Divinity; now for my sake it is become as the face of a "leper." Yet in that disfigured Countenance .I recognize Thy infinite love, and I am consumed with the desire of loving Thee and of making Thee loved by all mankind. The tears that streamed from Thy eyes in such abundance are to me as precious pearls which I delight to gather, that with their infinite worth I may ransom the souls of poor sinners. O Jesus, Whose Face is the sole beauty that ravishes my heart, I may not behold here upon earth the sweetness of Thy glance, nor feel the ineffable tenderness of Thy kiss. Thereto I consent, but I pray Thee to imprint in me Thy divine likeness, and I implore Thee to so inflame me with Thy love, that it may quickly consume me, and that I may soon reach the vision of Thy glorious Face in heaven. Amen. 19To Sister Agnes (1890), C. L., p. 127. SOME BOOKS RECEIVED [Only books sent directly to the Book Review Editor, West Baden College, West Baden Springs, Indiana, are included in our Reviews and Announcements. The following books were sent to St. Marys.] St. Francis of Assisi and the Middle East. By Martiniano Roncaglia. The Newman Bookshop, Westminster, Maryland. $1.00 (paper cover). My Dear People. By Venantius Buessing, O.F.M.Cap. Joseph F. Wagner, Inc., 53 Park Place, New York 7, New York. $5.00. Our Lord and Our Lady. By Alexander P. Schorsch, C.M., and Sister M. Dolores Schorsch, O.S.B. Philosophical Library, Inc., 15 East 40th Street, New York 16, New York. $4.50. Getting to Know the Bible. By Joseph F. X. Cevetello. Society of St. Paul, 2187 Victory Boulevard, Staten'Island 14, New York. $2.50. Spiritual Riches of the Rosary Mysteries. By Charles J. Callan, O.P., and John F. McConnell, M.M. Joseph F. Wagner, Inc., 53 Park Place, New York 7, New York. $3.95. (Continued on page 278) 270 The Neurotic Religious R~chard P. Vaugh~n, S.J. IN A PREVIOUS ISSUE [March, 19581, we considered the" nature and use of psychotherapy as a means of combating mental and emotional disorders among priests, brothers, and sisters. Experience has shown that psychotherapy is espe-cially applicable to a type of emotional illness known as neu-rosis. Most religious who are in need of psychiatric treatment suffer from this type of illness. The following paragraphs a~ttempt to paint a verbal picture of the neurotic religious and his problems. Almost every order or congregation has a certain number of individuals who can be described in var.i.ous ways, such as "impossible to live with," "just naturally odd," or "a bit strange." These are the religious who stand out as different. For the most part, they give every indication of being troubled. They find it extremely, difficult to integrate themselves into the community. Nervous tension, anxiety, and depression are their frequent companions. Often they suffer from sickness which has no physical basis. They are easily upset. They are full of complaints. Nothing seems to satisfy them. Obedi-ence places an intolerable burden upon them. As a result, they cannot do their share of the order's work. It is as difficult for them to live with themselves as it is for their fellow religious to live with them. If one makes a survey of thehistorical records of almost any order or congregation, he immediately becomes aware of the serious problems these discontented religious present. their younger days they are cons~tantly being changed from one house to another, from one type of work to another. Tracing out the life history of these individuals, one finds that they frequently spend the greater part of their lives collected 271 RICHARD P. VAUGHAN Review for Religious togethe~ in houses where they do the ]east damage or are doled out to the larger houses where they can be absorbed by the size of the community. The amount of productive work whicb, they accomplish during their life span is negligible. From all external appearance, the ~'s.piritual life makes ~almost no impact upon them. Characteristics of Neurotics For the most part, such religious .can be classified as neurotic in various degrees of severity. .,A neurotic is a .person who is beset with anxiety,' tension, ,and !pecUliar !patterns ~of behavior which deviate f~om what ~is coniidered normal He is still, however, in contact ~vi~h the reality of the world in which he lives. In this latter aspect, he differs from the psy-chotic, who has in some way lost contact with reality and lives in a world of his own making, whether this be through the medium of hallucinations or a system of delusions. The neu-rotic religious is very much aware of his own sufferings and the disturbance he is causing within the community by his unusual modes of acting. Often this awareness on the part of the neurotic is the very thing which so provokes his superior and fellow religious, who reason: "He knows what he is doing. Why does he not stop behaving this way? It can only be his ill will that makes him continue." However, an analysis of neurotic behavior is not quite this simple. It is true that the .neurotic knows what he is doing, but he does not know "why" he is acting in this manner. Thus, he might be spending half the night checking every faucet in the cloister to see that no .water is running. He knows that he is making these nightly patrols. He knows that the odds are a hundred to one against~ his finding a running faucet. He also knows that his clumping up and down the halls night after night is keeping his fellow religious awake. Still, he cannot stop himself. He is tense and restless and, ~thus, can-not get any rest until he has performed this ritual. The reason why he is unable to stop himself is simply b~cause he has a 272 September, 1958 THE NEUROTIC .RELIGIOUS neurosis which he cannot cure by himself any more than the tubercular religious can cure his malady without medical treat-meat. Generally speaking, a neurosis manifests itself in not just a single symptom, but in a whole.pattern of symptoms. They affect many different phases of one's life. These are the peculiar aspects of behavior that make the neurotic religious a marked man or woman. In some cases, these symptoms are of such a nature as to cause severe distress within a com-munity. The fears, compulsions, and anxieties of the neurotic severely interfere with the activity of the other members of the community. Even though the neurotic is aware of the incon-venience he is causing others, he still feels that all must cater to his own needs: This feeling is a part ot: his illness. For most neurotics are i, ery self-centered. °However, frequently they do not~-realize this fact; and, if they do, they almost never know what has made them so self-centered. On the .other hand, it often happens that a neurotic religious has symptoms which have little effect on the daily living of the community.~ Others may notice that he is a tense, anxious person who rarely takes an active part in the community life; but they are not aware of the interior suffer-ing that is gradually sapping the neurotic's strength. Two Levels A neurotic operates on two levels, one of which is con-scious and the other, unconscious. On the conscious level are those symptoms that are evident either to the neurotic himself or to those with whom he lives, such as unreasonable fears, uncontrollable thoughts, or imagined physical illness. These are but the manifestations of the neurosis. They are the means that the neurotic uses to defend himself against the real source of his condition, which is usually some ~ype of an unconscious conflict. The conflict i~ called unconscious in so far as the neurotic is unaware of its existence and nature. The conflict usually involves some of the .more basic human needs 273 I~ICHARD P. VAUGHAN Revicw for Religious that we all possess, such as our need for love and affection. Thus, for example, because of deprivation in childhood, the neurotic is frequently looking for a type of affection from others that is equivalent to the love a good parent gives to his small child. Since he usually never gets this type of love and, even if he does get it, it does not satisfy him because he is an adult with adults' desires, he is frustrated and in conflict within himself. Since the neurotic is unaware of what is taking place within himself, he is helpless when left to fight his battle alone. All that he knows is that he is tense and anxious and that he is baffled by the cause of his condition. He is like a man trying to cross swords with an invisible .enemy. He defends himself as best he can, but still he is constantly being-hurt. Often he wishes thai the enemy would deal the mortal blow; but he knows that his is an enemy who delights in slow, pro-longed torture. By trial, and error, the neurotic learns that one way is more satisfactory than another in coping with' this un-seen foe. The manner of defense upon which he finally de-cides depends upon his own personality and the nature of the unconscious conflict. He knows that the best that he can hope for is a transitory lessening of anxiety and a certain minimum of satisfaction and gratification. An Example The dynamics of a neurosis are-well exemplified by the compulsive handwasher whose disorder manifests itself in an uncontrollable urge to wash his hands over and over again. Such a person will tell you that he must continue washing his hands until he gets everythin~ "just right." (When asked, he is not clear what he means by "just right.") This may mean that he has to wash his hands continuously for a half hour or more. .He will go on to tell you that if he stops before he gets that "just right" feeling, he is so uncomfortable that he has-to go back and continue washing ~his hands. Once he has ~ompleted the ritual, he feels relieved for a time. However, 274 Septcmber, 1958 THE NEUROTIC RELIGIOUS gradually he becomes aware ~of a new .source o~ anxiety. He iiads that his periods of washing are ever increasing in time and that this is seriously interfering with his work. This fact causes new anxiety and worry, but still he is unable to stop his ritualistic washing. His inability to stop himself stems from the unconscious nature of his problem. In all probability, his particular prob: lem springs from some unconscious conflict; but the sufferer is unaware of this. He sees no connection between the purify-ing ritual he is forced to perform and his erroneous attitudes and habits setting up the unconscious conflict. Often he is not even aware that he possesses these attitudes and habits. He does not iealize that his handwashing is simply a symbolic way of trying to cleanse himself from a false sense of guilt. As a matter of fact, he is not even aware of the guilt/All that he experiences is an ungovernable urge to wash his hands and the constantly plaguing sensation of anxiety and tension. From all this, it can safely be said that the neurotic suffers a "pain" that can be more excruciating than cancer of the spine. True, his "pain" is different from that of the physically afflicted, but he will tell you that he would much prefer to endure a long bout with some disease to his present condition. Attitude of Fellow Religious One of the most disturbing features of religious life for a neurotic is the attitude of his or-her fellow religious. The majority of religious still seem to cling to the outdated view that mental illne~s, especially of the neurotic variety, indicates some kind of moral turpitude. The neurotic religious is really responsible for his or her condition. The difficult modes of be-havior that he frequently manifests are sinful. If he had made full use of all the spiritual help offered by his order or congregation, he would not be in his present predicament. Moreover, if he were really a spiritual man, he could "sn.ap out" of this condition in a matter of weeks. Thus runs the reasoning of many religious when confronted with the difficult problem of coping with the 275 I~ICHARD P. VAUGHAN Revie'w for Religious neurotic. They still feel that a good Father Confessor and fre-quent reception of Holy Communion can solve any problem. The fact .that in spite of frequent use of the sacraments arid sound spiritual guidance we still have our neurotics with us does not seem to alter their view one iota. The probable source of this erroneous attitude is a woeful lack of psychological knowledge among religious men and women. There is no important sub-ject concerning which religious as a group know less. From this ignorance springs a prejudice toward psychology and psychiatry as means of regaining one's mental health. It is this alcove-mentioned attitude toward mental illness which is so damaging' to the neurotic religious. For among the most p~evalent features of a neurosis are deep feelings of inferi-ority and a lack of self-esteem. The majority of neurotics are convinced that they are useless and bad, even though they may put on a great front of bravado. When this opinionof them-selves is confirmed by the words and actions of their fellow re-ligious, the n~urotic condition becomes deeper. The sufferer is liable to despair, thinking himself simply no good and that noth-ing can be done for him. He then sets out to prove to the community that he is useless, and his mode of behavior becomes. even more disturbing than ever. A further outcome of this erroneous conception of mental illness is that it frequently prevents the neurotic religious from seeking psychiatric help. Since he is hopelessly bad, why waste the community's money and the therapist's .time on treatment-- thus he reasons. If he finds enough courage to submit, to therapy,, he becomes very aware of the feelings of others in regard to himself. He fears the stigmatization that will fall upon him by the very fact that he visits a psychiatrist. He dreads the quips that will be made about his condition. And he is e.qually terrified by the prospect of facing those knowing and condescending looks of his fellow religious, once the diagnosis of his disorder has been made public. 276 September, 1958 THE NEUROTIC RELIGIOUS Responsibility and Sanctity Mental illness is a medical problem just as any other type of sickness. The neurotic religious is no more responsible for his affliction than is the religious who is physically diseased. He did not willfully set up the unconscious conflict, "and he has very little control over the symptoms that result from the conflict, A combination 0f inherited personality, 'parental influences, and other environmental factors have militated against him to produce his present condition. Still,. the religious who has contracted a cancer.of the lung or heart disease, possibly ~is a result of exces-sive smoking, 'is treated with the utmost sympathy and charity, while the neurotic is ~frequently looked upon as a second-rate religious who has put himself in his predicament and is treated accordingly.°. '-The neurotic religious who is willing ~to accept help has no less an-opportunity to sanctify his soul than~ ~he religious who is suffering from a purely physical disorderl Psychological studies of the lives of the saints are beginning to reveal rfeurotic symptoms among these supremely successful men and women. In spite of these symptoms, they attained the heights of sanctity. Thus, it seems that neurosis, as sdch, does not exclude the pos, sibility of spiritual perfection. Howe~er, because of the dis-rupting nature of neurotic symptoms, it can safely, be said that the i~ttainment o~ perfection is more di~ fi!t .under th~se c0n-ditions and, in very severe, cases .of neurosis, is. pr?bably im-possible. For we cannot get away from th.e fact that the super-natural is built upon the natural, o When there is complete disorder in the foundation, then no edifice can be built upon it. Care of Neurotics It is the need of this natural foundation for the spiritual life that makes e~cient screening of candi~lates to the religious state so necessary. For the candidate who. is so neurotic that he cannot profit from the spiritual training of his chosen order or congregation has no vocation. This need of the sound 277 RICHARD P. VAU(;HAN natural foundation for the spiritual life also makes it impera- .tive~ that neurotic religious be given every opportunity to rid. them.se.lves.of their disorder. As has been stated, a neurotic usua.lly~cannot cure himself when left to fight the battle alone. Moreover, a good confessor is usually not equipped to help the neurotic overcome his condition.° Purely spiritual direction does not strike at the unconscious. Hence, some other source of help must ib~e.sought. As was stated in the beginning of this article, the method of treatment which ha~ been the most practica! and effective with. neurotics is called psychotherapy. This effectiveness ap-plies to the religious as well as the lay person. Psychotherapy with neurotics consists of "working through" the" unconscious con-flict with the patient through the medium of a long series of interviews. By the use of various techniques, the neurotic comes to understand and experience on an affective level the root of his disorder. With the successful outcome of therapy, the symptoms disappear because the neurotic no longer has a need for them. He is thus relieved of those hindrances which have hand!capped.him in moving ahead in the spiritual/ire and is able to become a useful member of the community, Conclusion The neurotic priest, brother, or sister is not a second-rate religious, but rather a sick religious. He or she is in need of charity, care, and consideration. With adequate help and encouragement, he can rid himself of his affliction and become a hol~ and productive religious. Some Books Received (Continued from page 270) Awakeners of Souls. By F. X. Ronsin, S.J. Society of St. Paul, 2187 Victory Boulevard, Staten Island 14, New York. $3.00. Catechism in Pictures. The Life of Christ. The Commandments oft God. Know Your Mass. Catechetical Guild Educational Society, 260 Summit Avenue, St. Paul 2, Minnesota. 35c each (paper cover). (Continued on page 289) 278 The : eneral Chap!:er Joseph I:. 6allen, S.J. QUESTIONS AND CASES are frequently received on the general chapter. A complete .article on. this matter would be of prohibitive length. It would also be excessively de-tailed and technical. We believe that the practical purpose of such an article will be better attained by presenting the matter under the form of questions and cases. The following ques-tions are the second part.of a series. V. Voting 17. Our constitutions state: "Not only the superior g~neral but also the general councilors, secretary general, and treasurer general remain members of the general chapter with a decisive vote, even if perhaps in the elections in chapter they have gone out of office." What is the mean-ing of a decisive vote in a chapter? In a council, a deliberative or decisive vote is opposed to a merely consultive vote, i. e., in the former, a superior must have the. consent, or absolute majority, of his council for the validity of the act for which, the deliberative vote is required; in the latter, he is obliged merely to consult his council but not to follow the opinion of the council, even if this. is unani-mous. The superior is to consider seriously the consultive vote of his council, especially if it is unanimous; and he should not depart from a unanimous vote unless he has a reason that prevails over the vote. The superior is judge of the existence and worth of such a prevailing reason. In the chapters of your institute, there is no such distinction of votes. -The sense of your constitutions is simply that the general 'officials do not lose their vote in the chapter 'because of the fact that they no longer hold the general offices after the,ele~tions. Thereforei the adjective "decisive" should-not be in ~he constitutions. The only thing that can be called a decisive vote in your chapter 'is the right of the president to break a tie on the third balloting JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religion, s (c.101, § 1, 1°). Constitutions of lay institutes most rarely give this right to the president in elections. Such a tie is broken by seniority of first profession, but if the religious made their first profession on the same day, by seniority of age. 18. What is the process for obtaining the':vote of a capitular who is sick but in the house where the election is being held? Canon 163 prescribes the physical' presence of the electors £t the election as requisite for a valid vote and excludes as invalid, unless this is permitted .by the constitutions or customs, a vote by letter or proxy. Outside of a most rare and limited exception, the constitutions of lay institutes exclude voting by letter or proxy. Almost universally they admit only the one excep-tion from physical presence given in canon law itself (c. 168), which is as follows. "If an elector is present in the house of the election but. cannot come to the place of election because of weak health, his written vote is to be collected by the tellers, unless ,the particular laws or legitimate customs determine other- :e~dH ~rU::_ ~n::n; r otph:r t ;?t,'r,~ h eP ~Tr:t,y t l~:dcabs:" lids'nvg:t , ri if the elector is confined to the infirmary and the election is being held in .,another building of the same religious house. No reason other than weak health suffices, e. g., if an elector cannot be present in the chapter room because he is ~ccupied with most serious business of the congregation. It is not re-quired that the infirm elector be confined to bed. If the elector car,: write, he. is to write out his vote secretly. If he cannot write, he may express his vote orally or by anyother external Sign to the tellers; and the latter may write outthe vote for the sick or infirm elector. This method is permitted by the code and may be employed unless it is certainly excluded by the constitutions. Many constitutions of lay institutes demand that the" infirm elector be able to write. The tellers are to obtain the vote of such an elector on every ballot. If too great delay would be caused by going to another building for the vote, the chapter would not be obliged to do so. Both tellers, 280 September, 1958 THz GENERAL CHAPTER not the president nor the secretary, are to collect the vote. Canon law does not specify the manner in which the tellers are to carry back the folded vote, and consequently one of them may carry it back in his hand. However, the constitutions or customs frequently specify that it is to be carried back in a closed ballot-box, and some constitutions state that a ballot-box is to be reserved for this case. If there is only one ballot-box, the vote of the infirm elector is to be secured before those of the assembled capitulars, since the votes of the latter should never be taken from the chapter room. A very simple method, found also in some constitutions, is to carry the vote back in a sealed envelope. The envelope is immediately opened, and the folded vote of the infirm elector is mixed with the votes of the others. 19. Since two priests are the tellers, how is the vote of a sick nun to be collected? Two priests are the tellers in the election of a superioress of a monastery (c. 506, § 2) and also of a mother general or re-gional mother of a federation of nuns. Canon 506, § 2, forbids these priests to enter the papal cloister of the nuns. The constitutions more frequently make provisions for the present case by enacting that two of the capitulars are,to be designated by the president as tellers .for the vote of a sick nun. If there is no provision in the constitutions for a monastery election, it is probable that the two priest tellers may enter the cloister to secure the vote of. a sick nun; but the far more appropriate and simple method is for the president to appoint two of the nun .capitulars as tellers for this case. In the election of a mother general or regional mother of a federation, there are two assistant nun tellers, who will also take care of the vote of a sick nun. 20. Immediately before a general chapter, one of the capitulars broke his right arm. He attended the chapter. How could he have voted? The code commands that the votes be secret but not that they be written by all the electors, although the prescription 281 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious of burning the votes (c. 171, § 4) supposes that a written vote is the ordinary practice. It is su~cient that the vote be cast by any certain and determined external sign. It is very possible that an elector would not be able to write, as in the present case. Such an elector is not to be deprived of his vote. He should communicate his vote orally to the president and tellers. One of these writes out the vote, shows it to the elector for approval, and then folds and drops the vote in the ballot-box or gives it to the elector to be cast in the prescribed order. This" capitular-may be told to cored up to the president and tellers before or after the others have cast their votes. 21. Our constitutions say: "After all the ballots have been cast, the two tellers shall open the urn, count the ballots before the president, and see whether they correspond with the number of sister electors. If the number corresponds, they shall open the ballots, showin~g them to the president and reading them audibly in the presence of all. If the number of ballots exceeds the number of electors, another vote shall be taken." What is to be done if the number of ballots is less than, the number of electors? By canon law (c. 171, § 3), a balloting is invalid only if the number of ballots exceeds the number of electors. Such a balloting is considered as not having been made a~ all, e. g., if the excess occurs on the first balloting, the next is counted not as the second but as the first balloting. If the votes equal or are less "than the number of electors, the balloting is valid. The latter case means merely that one or somd did not cast a vote in this balloting. This is the norm of your constitutions. Before the Code ofCanon Law, May 19, 1918, the number of votes had to equal the number of electors.~ The balloting was. consequently invalid whe.n "~the number if votes was greater or less than the 'number of electorL l~iany lay institutes still retain. ~his "pre.scriptign in their, constitutions. It 'is td be "'" observ.e.d~ si~e ik is'. not c~ntrary to .but over and: abbve the --cody: i~. 489). It ~ouid-be better to change this prescription to. the::law ~f the code in any revision 6f the constitutions. Cf. ¯ Maro~o, Institufiones .Iuris Canonici, I, n. 635; Coronata, In-~ 282 September, 1958 THE ~ENERAL CHAPTER stitutiones Iuris Canonici, I, ,+n. 236; Parsons, Canonical Elec-tions, 151 ; Lewis, Chapters in Religious Institutes, 115. 22. Our constitutions command that the ballots be burned in the presence of the electors. It is most difficult to do this. May they be burned elsewhere? Canon.171, § 4, enacts that the ballots are to be burned after each balloting or at the end of the session, if there were several ballotings in the same session. It is not sufficient to tear up the ba[lots; they must be burned. Constitutions that command the burning of the ballots after each balloting or in the presence of the electors are not contrary to but over and above the code. However, it would at least very frequently be highly inconvenient, annoying, and even dangerous to burn the ballots in the room where the elections are held. There would therefore p~ractically always be a sufficient reason for burning them elsewhere and in the presence only of the tellers. The loss of time would also be/a .sufficient excuse for burning the votes only after th~ session./Constitutions that assign the burning of the ballots to the secretary must be followed, since they are not clearly contrary to the code. However, the burn-ing is commanded to protect the. secrecy of the votes. Since the tellers have charge of the votes and take the oath of secrecy, it is evidently at least preferable that the burning be done by the tellers. 23. Our constitutions declare: "The delegates shall abstain from either directly or indirectly procuring votes for themselves or for others." Is this the complete canon? No. Canon 507, § 2, extends the prohibition of procuring votes, or electioneering, to all members of an institute, whether electors or not, and with regard to all chapters. 24. If ! sincerely believe that a particular brother is the one most competent for the office of brother general, why cannot I persuade other capitulars to vote for l~im? All the members of an institute, whether electors or not, are forbidden to seek votes to. elect a particular person, or one JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review fo,r Religious rather than another, or to exclude anyone from being elected at any chapter whatsoever. It is forbidden to do so directly, i. e., to seek the votes openly and clearly, or indirectly, i. e., to seek votes in a secret, disguised, or mediate fashion, e.g., by artifices, insinuations, favors, services, 'or promises (c. 507, § 2). It is certainly forbidden to procure votes for oneself (c. 170); for an evil end, e. g., to elect an unworthy or less worthy person, by an evil means, e. g., fraud, lies, threats, violence, insistent plead-ings, pacts, agreements, commands of superidrs;, or by any means that restricts the liberty of the electors. Merely to counsel another to vote or. not to vote for someone is not a restriction of the liberty of an elector, but it would be better to abstain also from this. Some authors hold with probability that the canon does not forbid procuring votes for another provided the end and the means are licit in themselves, e. g., to induce another by sound reasons and from honest motives to v6te for the best qualified, for a better rather than a less qualified p~rson, or for a qualified rather than an unqualified person. The more com-mon opinion is that this procuring also is forbidden, because the wording of the canon is absolute. This latter opinion should also be. followed in prudence, since any procuring of votes is apt /~o cause factions, create parties'determined on their candi-date, produce bad feeling, and disturb the peace and sanctity of the religious life. 'The procuring of votes"does not invalidate a vote or' an election. 25." In our congregation of sisters; may we nominate determined sisters for the various offices before the actual voting for the offices in question? ¯ This may not be done unless it is positively permitted by the particular law of the institute. The Sacred Congregation of Religious does not approve in congregations the proposal or nomination.of determined candidates, and such a practice is almost never found in the constitutions of lay congregations. 284 September, 1958 THE {~ENERAL" CHAPTER This practice at least tends to restrict the.liberty of the electors (Bastien, Directoire Canonique, n. 263). Nomination is found in various forms in some monasteries of nuns, e. g., the newly elected superioress proposes the name for the office of assistant or for all members of the council; three religious are nominated for superioress by the vote of the council, but the electors are free to vote for others; and, in a similar method in at least one federation, a list for the office of regional mother is formed from the previous and secret proposal of three names by each capitular, supplemented by names that the council feels obliged to add. Other religious may be voted for in this last system; but, if elected, they must be confirmed by the mother general and her council. 26. I was a capitular in the general chapter of our congregation of brothers. Before the chapter, I told three brothers the name of the one I intended to vote for,as brother general. I did vote for him, and he was elected. Was my vote invalid because of a lack of secrecy (c. 169, § 1, 2°)? An invalidating lack of secrecy occurs only when a vote is manifested in the very act of voting or at least before the particular balloting is completed and to the greater part of the chapter. Especially when a method of voting such as beans is used, care is to be exercised that the beans are taken and placed in the urn in such a way that others cannot see how the elector is voting. If a vote is invalidated, by a lack of secrecy, the elector may cast another secret vote. Prudence at least gen-erally °forbids an elector to reveal his vote either before or after an election. Neither revelation is certainly forbidden by canon law, but both are prohibited by the law of some con-stitutions. Such a revelation evidently does not invalidate the vote. 27. Is it possible for a member of a lay institute to have been de-prived of active voice? Active voice is the right to vote in a chapter; passive voice is the right to be elected in a chapter. Privation of active voice 285 JOSEPH F. GALLEN l~evicw for Religious occurs when the right to vote is taken away. This can happen by a legitimate sentence of a judge or by the enactment of canon law or the law of the particular institute (c. 167, § 1, 5°). Canon law deprives exclaustrated religious during the time of the exclaustration (c. 639) and apostates from religion, even after their return and after the absolution from the excommuni-cation (c. 2385), of active voice. Active voice is regained by the latter if the penalties of prohibition of legitimate ecclesiastical acts and the privation of active and passive voice have been dispensed. A privation of either right is found only most rarely in the constitutions of lay institutes, e. g., a privation of active and passive voice for voting for oneself or if proven to have canvassed for votes and of active voice if convicted of having violated chapter secrecy. 28. May a presiding superior general reject a proposal to the general chapter merely on his own authority or after consulting his council either before or during the chapter? It is possible that your constitutions give this authority to the superior general before the opening of the chapter. How-ever, this is found most rarely and never after the chapter ~is in session. It ts'to be remembered that the chapter is the supreme authority within the institute. The superior general, even though he presides, is merely a member of the chapter. He does not act as superior in the chapter. Evidently he is to be given the customary respect and reverence, and his proposals and comments merit greater attention and consideration. He should submit all proposals to the chapter committee or com-mittees on proposals. This does not prevent a committee from stating that a proposal should be rejected or referred to the superior general as a matter of ordinary government. To the degree that a committee fails to do this, the chapter, fatigued, frustrated, and irritated by extraneous details, will be rendered less efficient and less effective. When a committee has made its report, the chapter, not the superior general alone, is the judge as to whether a proposal should be accepted oro rejected. 286 Septe~nber, 1958 THE GENERAL CHAPTER VI. Qualities for Election, Etc. 29. Our constitutions affirm: "For secretary, one of the councilors may be elected (provided she be not the first). It is even advisable to elect a councilor to this office, otherwise the secretary would have no voice in the council." If it is so necessary for the secretary to have a vote in the council, why isn't it of obligation to elect one of the coun. cilors as secretary? There is no necessity whatever that the secretary, general or provincial, should be also a general or provincial councilor. She attends all meetings as a confidential secretary and is bound by the obligation of official secrecy. A confidential secretary devoid of any authokity or part in government is certainly noth-ing unusual either in ecclesiastical or secular life. It would frequerttly be very inefficient to elect a councilor as secretary, simply because none of the councilors would have the training or experience for such a position. The councilors are also often somewhat advanced in years; and this is not an asset for the work of a secretary, even in the background of sufficient traifiing and experience. 30. The constitutions of our diocesan congregation state: In regard to the election of the mother general in particular, they must observe the following points: No sister is eligible to this office who is not at least forty years old and ten years professed; only in case of neces-sity is it allowed to elect one who is but thirty-five years old and eight years professed." A priest who'gave us a retreat stated that he c~uld not see how our constitutions agreed with canon law. Was he right? The priest was evidently right. Canon 504 demands legitimacy, at least ten full years of profession in the same institute from the date of first profession, and forty complete years of" age for th~ valid election of a mother general. Your constitutions omit all mention of legitimacy and require only thirty-five years of age and eight years of profession in a case of necessity. Such a necessity would constitute a sufficient reason for asking for a dispensation from the Holy See but would not excuse your institute from the law of the code. The only justification you could have for'the omission of legitimacy and for the norms of thirty-fi.ve years of age and eight years 287 JOSEPH f. GALLEN Review for Religious of profession would be a privilege granted to your institute by the Holy See, which is so unlikely as to be negligible. The only privileges ordinarily encountered in lay congregations are par-ticular indulgences and Masses, and even these are found most infrequently. If you have no such privilege and elect as mother general a sister who lacks any of the three requisites of canon 504, the election will be invalid. The whole wording of your law reveals clearly that it is a norm occasionally permitted by the Holy See in approving constitutions before 1901. This is a probable indication but not a certain proof that your con-stitutions were never conformed to the Code of Canon Law. If this is true, they should be so conformed as soon as possible. Cf. Larraona, Commentarium Pro Religiosis, 7-1926-248, note 244; Battandier, Guide Canonique, nn. 373-74; Schaefer, De Religiosis, n. 466; Creusen, Religious Men and Women in the Code, n. 65, 2. 31. Two articles of our constitutions read: 1. "The superioress gen-eral must be at least forty years of ag-- and must have pronounced her first vows at least ten years before her election." 2. "In order to appoint a sister as provincial superior, she must be at least thirty. five years old and in perpetual vows." Are these two articles complete and accurate? No. Canon 504 demands three personal qualities for the valid election or appointment of any higher superior .of religious men or women, legitimacy, profession for at least ten complete years in the same institute computed from first profession, and forty complete years of age for a superior general and the superioress of a monastery of nuns but thirty complete years of age for other higher superiors, e. g., provincials. Therefore, age is the only varying element in these three qualities. Both of your articles omit legitimacy. This omission may be caused by delicacy but it could be costly, since legitimacy is required for a valid election or appointment. Both articles also omit the prescription that the ten years of profession must be in the same institute, e. g., years of profession spent in another in-stitute before a transfer may not be computed as part of the 288 September, 1958 THE GENERAL CHAPTER required ten years. The second article adds five years, to the canonical age demanded for a provincial, which is permitted and is customary. It is not sufficient, however, that a provincial be merely of perpetual vows. Perpetual profession is made, at the earliest, three and, at the latest, six years after the first temporary profession; but ten full years of profession are demanded by canon law. 32. Our constitutions state that only a sister "born in holy wedlock" is eligible as mother general. Is this accurate? The sense of canon 504 in this respect is evident, i. e, the religious must be legitimate. From the accepted interpreta-tion, it is sufficient that the religious be either legitimate or legitimated. The canon is usually translated as "born of legiti-mate marriage," which is a literal translation, or "of legitimate birth." The second appears to be preferable. The difficulty is caused by the wording of the canon itself. Instead of simply saying "legitimate," the canon reads "born of a legitimate marriage." The translation "holy wedlock" is not a literal translation and is susceptible of the meaning that legitimacy demands conception or birth from a sacramental marriage, i. e., the valid marriageof two baptized persons. A marriage of two unbaptized is certainly not a sacrament; and there is not too much probability, if any, that it is a sacrament in the baptized party in a marriage between baptized and unbaptized persons. A child conceived or born of either of these two types of non-sacramental marriages .would be legitimate, e. g., a girl born of the valid marriage of two Jewish parents, who was later converted and enteied religion, would not be illegitimate. Some Books Received (Continued from page 278) The Catholic Booklist 1958. Edited by Sister Mary Luella, O.P. Rosary College, River Forest, Illinois. $1.00 (paper cover). The Patron Saints. By John Immerso. Society of St. Paul, 2187 Victory Boulevard, Staten Island 1~, New York. 35c (paper cover). 289 Survey oJ: Roman Document:s R. F. Smit:h, S.J. [The following pages will pro.vide a survey of the documents which ap-peared in the .4eta /lpostolicae Sedis (AAS) during the months of April and May, 1958. Throughout the survey all page references will be to the 1958 AAS (v. 50).] The Easter Message IN BEGINNING his Easter broadcast to the world, which he delivered on April 6, 1958 (AAS, pp. 261-64), the Holy Father noted that Easter has always been regarded in the Church as a feast of light; for by the Resurrection of Christ the human race was freed from the darkness of error and sin. In the first creation, the Pontiff continued, light is~presented as the source of all beauty and order in the world; so too in the Re-demption, which may be properly called a new creation, the light of Christ is the primary and indispensable element of the new order; for .no one can attain perfection except ~through Christ and in Christ. If today error, skepticism, deceit, hatred, war, crime, and injustice still continue to exist, it is because modern man has separated himself from the vivifying light of Christ. Nor need it be feared, said the Holy Father, that Christ will halt human progress; like man, God is not satisfied by the mere existence of the world; rather He wishes to see in it a continual progression toward the fullness of truth, of justice, and of peace. Since the light of Christ has been entrusted to the Church, the Vicar of Christ concluded, each member of the Church must see to it that his light shines before men through the good works he performs. And of all possible good. works, the one most needed today is a constant and unceasing effort toward the establishment of a .just peace. After the message inspired by Christ's Resurrection from the dead, it is fitting to place the allocution which His Holiness 290 I~.OM AN DOCUMENTS delivered on March 30i 1958 (AAS, pp. 265-67), to tl~e families of Italian so'ldiers who were killed or lost in war. The Pontiff observed that in such situations the lot of those who are without the faith is tragic; for them the dead are. gone forever, mingled inextricably with the dust of the battleground where they fell. But those with the faith, though their hearts are still sorrowful, find consolation in the divine promise of an immortal life. They know that the souls of the departed are in heaven or in purgatory. In the first case, the dead can assist the living in a way grea.ter than if they were still alive; while in the second case those who are living can still provide their departed with efficacious help. Even those who have disappeared in the war are not com- ,pletely vanished for those who have the faith; they know that 'those who are lost still remain under the eye of an all-loving and all-powerful God with whom they can intercede for the welfare of/.the loved ones who have never returned. In con-clusion ;the Pope emphasized that between his listeners and their loved ones there exists an indestructible union, that of the communion of saints. For Priests, Seminarians, and Religious ~On October 27, 1957 (AAS, pp. 292-96), the Sacred Congregation of Seminaries and Universities issued a letter to all ~local ordinaries concerning the fostering of the Latin language among priests and seminarians. The knowledge of Latin, the letter pointed out, is proper to a priest, for this is the language he will use in performing those sacred duties in which he is the representative of Christ. Nevertheless, there is considerable evidence that the knowledge of Latin among priests is decreasing notably. For this reason the Sacred Congregation has seen fit to issue a booklet wherein are gathered together all the pro-nouncements of recent popes on the matter of Latin and the priest. (In a footnote to the letter th~ titles of two booklets sent to local Ordinaries are given: Summorum Pontificum cum 291 R. F. SMITH Review for Religious de humanioribus litteris tum praesertim de Latina lingua docu-menta praecipua and II Latino lingua viva nella Chiesa.) The letter then proposed various practical remedies for meeting the situation, the first and most important of which is to see that the teachers of Latin in seminaries are carefull}; selected and well trained. Secondly, seminarians should begin their study of Latin from the very start of their training and their reading should include not only classical authors but also Latin authors of other times; in this way they will be able to see that Latin is not a dead language but that under the pro-tection of the Church it has always been an instrument ot: human wisdom and culture. Thirdly, all seminarians should be given ample time for the cultivation of their knowledge of Latin. 'On April 11, 1958 (AAS, pp. 282-86), the Holy Father addressed the members of the Congress of Studies on East-ern Monasticism, remarking that monasticism flowered after the end of the persecutions, since generous souls desired this ~ orm .of perfection as a sort ot: voluntary martyrdom destined to replace the martyrdom of blood. He also noted that the religious state of perfection in all its essential elements, came into being in the East, so that "eastern monasticism is at the origin of all Christian religious life and its influence is felt even today in all the great religious orders. The spirituality of the desert, he continued, that form of the contemplative spirit which seeks God in silence and in abnegation, is a pro-found movement of the spirit which never ceases in the Church. The Pontiff concluded by urging his listeners to pursue their studies ofeastern monasticism so that from day to day the origi.ns and principal characteristics of that monasticism become better known. Under the date of April 3, 1958 (AAS, pp. 312-18), His Holiness sent a letter to the religious of Portugal who had con-vened in Lisbon for a congress concerning the states of per-fection. In the beginning of his letter the' Holy Father 292 September, 1958 ROMAN DOCUMENTS reviewed the history of ~P0rtugal, showing how the history of that country could not be written without including the work of religious throughout that history. He also remarked that where the religious state is lacking, Christian life can only rarely achieve that perfection that should be a characteristic note of the Mystical Body of Christ on this earth; accordingly, the religious state, radiant and splendid with the practice of virtue, is an essential element in the Christian development of each diocese. The Vicar of Christ then turned to a consideration of the problems of adapting older forms of religious life to modern conditions. Such adaptation will be possible only if every religious, novice as well as professed, knows the dis-tinguishing marks of his own institute; moreover, religious must be trained to distinguish between what is necessary and unchangeable in their institute and what has been added in the course of time and should be adapted to changed condi-tions. However, he pointed out, these latter elements should not be discarded simply because they are old but only to the extent that they hinder or prevent greater good. The Pontiff urged his listenersto work univaveringly for an increase in religious vocations in Portugal. He concluded his letter by reminding the recipients that contemporary life requires religious who are eminent by reason of piety, virtue, and learning and by urging them to do once more what the religious of Portugal have done so eminently in the past: to bring the light of the gospel to many peoples of the world. Moral Problems in Psychology On April 10, 1958 (AAS, pp. 268-82), the Roman Pontiff spoke to the members of 'the Thirteenth Congress of the International Society for Applied Psychology. In the first part of the allocution, the Pontiff defined personality as the psychosomatic unity of man in so far as it is determined and governed by the soul. After. elucidating each part of this definition, he went on to delineate the most important traits 293 R. F. SMITH Review for Religion,s of personality from the moral and religious viewpoint. The firs: of these characteristics is that the entire man is the work 6f the Creator; by .creation man is similar to God, and in Christ he has received divine sonship.~ These, he remarked, are data that psychology cannot neglect; for they are realities, not imaginary fictions, guaranteed as they are by the infinite mind of God. The second characteristic of human personality is that man has the possibility and the obligation of perfecting his nature according to the divine plan, while the third characteristic noted by His Holiness was that man is a responsible being, capable of shaping his conduct according to moral rules. Finally, in order to understand human personality it must be remembered that at the moment of death the human soul remains fixed in the dispositions acquired during life. The psychologist must remember this, since he is dealing with acts which contribute to the final elaboration oi: the personality. In the second part of his discourse, the Pope took up the morality of various techniques of testing and investigating psychological matters. The aim of psychology, which is" the scientific study of human attitudes and the healing of psychic sickness, is praiseworthy, he asserted; nevertheless, it cannot be said that the means adopted are always justified. Morality teaches that the exigencies of science do not justify any and all techniques and methods; these latter must be submitted to the moral norms of right action. The Pope then considered the rights of the subject who undergoes psychological treatment or experimentation. The contents of the subject's psyche, he noted, belong to the subject. It is true that by the way he acts and comports himself he already reveals some part of his psyche and these data the psychologist can use without any violation of the rights of the subject. But there is another part of the psyche which a person wishes to preserve from the knowledge of others; likewise, there are psychic regions which the subject himself is unaware 294 September, 1958 ROMAN DOCUMENTS of; into. such intimate regions of the psyche no one may pene-trate against the will of the subject. If, however, the subject freely gives his consent, the psychologist may in the majority of cases enter into the recesses of the subject's psyche without violating any moral law. It must, however, be remembered that the subject does not have unlimited power to grant access to his innermost psyche. The subject, for example, cannot grant .access when that access would involve the violation of the rights of a third party or the ruining of an individual or collective reputation. Nor does it suffice in such cases to say that the psychologist and h~is assistants will be bound to keep such things secre_t; for there are some matters (for example, the secret of confession) that can never be revealed. The Vicar of Christ then asks what is to be thought of a person who out of a spirit of heroic altruism offers himself for any and every type of psychological experimentation and investigation. His Holiness replied to this question by saying that since the moral value of a human action depends primarily on its object, heroic altruism can never justify psychological procedures that are morally evil by reason of their object; if, however, the object is gcJod or indifferent, then such heroism will increase the moral worth of the action. The Holy Father then turned to consider whether the general interest and public ~authority could permit the psycho-logist to° employ any and all methods of probing the humar~ psyche. He replied that the f~lct that immoral procedures are. imposed by public authority does not make such procedures licit. As for the question whether the state can impose psycho: logical tests and examinations on individuals, the Holy Fa'ther referred to his allocutions of September 43¢1952, and of Sep-tember 30, !954.; moreover, .he~ pointed out that, with regard to the impo.s.ition of such tests on ,children.: ando,minors,, the .s.tate must also take account of. the rights of,th0se who .have more immediate authority over the education-.of children, that is, the family, and the Church. 295 R. F. SM~H Review for Religious The third and concluding section of the allocution was devoted by the Pontiff to a consideration of some basic moral principles. In developing this section the Holy Father remarked that there are three types of immoral action. The first type. consists of those actions the constitutive elements of which are irreconcilable with moral order; such action, it is clear, may never be licitly performed. Hence, since it is part of the moral order that man should not be subject to his inferior instincts, any tests or techniques of investigation in psychology that involve such submission are immoral and must not be employed. The second type of immoral action includes those actions which are immoral not because of any of their constitutive elements, but because the person acting has no right to such action. Thus, for example, it is immoral to penetrate into the consciousness of anyone, unless the subject gives the investi-gator the right to do so. The third type of immoral action includes those actions which arouse moral danger without, a proportionate justifying cause. Psychologists, then, may not use methods and techniques of investigation that arouse moral dangers unless the reasons for utilizing such methods are proportionate to the dangers involved. The Pontiff then concluded his allocution by expressing the hope that his listeners would continue their efforts to penetrate further into the complexities of the human personality, thereby aiding men to remedy their defects and to respond more faithfully to the sublime designs which God has for each individual. Five Addresses to Groups of Italians The first of these addresses was delivered by the Holy Father on March 9, 1958 (AAS, pp. 205-12), to thirty thousand Neapolitan workers massed in the piazza in front of St. Peter's in Rome. He pointed out to the workers that a large number of the people of their region were living in subhuman con- 296 Septe~n bet, 1958 ROMAN DOCUMENTS ditions, stressing especially the lack of adequate housing in that region and the prevalence there of unemployment. In spite of this, h~wever, he noted that the southern part of Italy has always resisted the false promises of atheistic materialism, thus proving at once the solid foundation of their religious attitudes and their innate sense and appreciation of the spiritual values of life. He urged his listeners to press on with the economic betterment of the south of Italy, but also warned them that such improvements would be of little value unless they were accompanied by a parallel spiritual and moral growth. History, he. asserted, shows that material prosperity, unless guided by human wisdom and by religion, is often the first step toward decadence. Ten days later on March 19, 1958 (AAS, pp. 212-16), the Pontiff addressed an even more imposing audience, this one consisting of 100,000 young Italians, members of Catholic Action. He told his listeners that their presence in the pia~zza of St. Peter's was irrefutable proof of the indestruct-ible and dynami~ vitality of the Church. Then he urged his listeners to reflect on the springtime of history that God is preparing for the world and for the Church. Certainly, he said, the world has just passed through a terrible period of history, but a Christian knows that God will always draw good from evil. The material life of mankind, he noted, though not without its miseries, is steadily climbing higher. Intel-lectually, too, there is constant growth; automation gives promise of releasing men for the pursuit of intellectual matters; while technical progress is permitting the wider and easier diffusion of human culture. In social matters, finally, the same note of progress can be seen. Now for the first time since the birth of Christ, men are conscious not only of their interdependence but also of their stupendous unity, thereby becoming more and more prepared to see themselves as the Mystical Body of Christ. In spite, therefore, of the storms and winds that still exist, it can safely be thought that the long hard winter of history is 297 Review for Religious now drawing to a close and that there is beginning a spring-time that is prelude to an age which will be one of the richest and most luminous in mankind's history. On March 23, 1958 (AAS, pp. 216-20), the Holy Father addressed a group of Romans whose native place was the Province of Picena. He told them to be proud of their regional traditions and characteristics, but also reminded them that they should love their entire country for Italy has con-tributed munificently to the patrimony of the world and she, more than any other country, is closely linked with the work of Christ. Love of country, however, can itself degenerate into a dangerous and exaggerated nationalism. Hence, he advised his listeners to open their vision to the entire world by becoming intensely aware of that supreme reality which is the Church. Italian agricultural workers composed the audience before whom 'Hi~ Holiness spoke on April 16, 1958 (AAS, pp. 287- 91). "Pointing out to them that each Christian has his own place in the Mystical Body of Christ, he recommended that each of his listeners strive to perform his function in that Body perfectly, sit~ce Christians can be assured that any type of life, if it is lived as it should be, is equivalent to the perfect accom-plishment of a sacred duty and is an act of authentic service and love of God. The last of the five addresses to Italians was given by radio message on April 24, 1958 (AAS, pp. 326-30), to the inhabi-tants of the island of Sardinia. The Holy Father congratulated the Sardinians on the increase of material prosperity which they have achieved since the war, warning them, however, that they must not seek to "modernize" spiritual values on the mistaken grounds that Christian ideals of action are now outmoded. He concluded his message by exhorting them to do all in their po,~er to achieve a perfect social order on their island. Miscellaneous Matters On April 26, 1958 (AAS, pp. 318-22), the Holy Father addressed the participants in the Fourth Congress of the Italian 298 September, 1958 ROMAN DOCUMENTS Federation of Women's Sodalities of Our Lady. Recommend-ing that they take Mary as the model of their life and action, he showed them how Mary can teach them to act for the Church. The Blessed Virgin, he said, was present at the beginning of the Church on Pentecost and since then she has never ceased to watch over that Church. A good sodalist must imitate Mary in this and become convinced .that Christian perfection cannot be achieved without preoccupation with the needs of others. Finally, the Pontiff encouraged his listeners to make a careful study of the doctrine of the Mystical Body, since men today are ready to listen to a teaching which considers all humanity as but a single body with a single heart and a single soul. On April 13, 1958 (AAS, pp. 286-87), the Pope ad-dressed a group of delegates from French Africa, praising their efforts for the industrial development of Africa. He stressed the urgency of the economic develolSment of Africa on the grounds that in the modern world underdeveloped countries cannot enjoy complete freedom. Four documents published in AAS during the period under survey were concerned with the beatification of Teresa of Jesus Jornet y Ibars (1843-97), virgin, foundress of the Congregation of the Little Sisters of the Helpless Aged. Or~ January 7, 1958 (AAS, pp. 230-32), the Sacred Congregation of Rites approved the two miracles needed for her beatification; later, on March 28, 1958 (AAS, pp. 332-33), the same con-gregation affirmed that it was safe to proceed with the beati-fication. Accordingly, on April 27, 1958 (AAS, pp. 306-9), the Holy Father issued an apostolic letter proclaiming her beatifica-tion; and the next day (AAS, pp. 322-25) he delivered an allocution on the new Blessed to those who attended the beati-fication ceremonies. In the allocution he stressed three char-acteristics of her life: her tender devotion to the Blessed Virgin which she drew from her association with the Carmelites; her charity for 6thers, especially for the poor, which was of Fran- 299 R. F. SMITH ciscan inspiration; and her simple and tranquil abandonment to the will of God, which she learned from the author of the Spiritual Exercises. During the period surveyed the Sacred Penitentiary re-leased the text of four prayers composed by the Holy Father. The first of these prayers (AAS, pp. 235-36) was composed to. be recited by members of the armed forces of the Republic of Argentina; the second of them (AAS, pp. 334-35) is intended to be recited by young girls; the third prayer is a prayer to be recited by workers to St. Joseph the Worker; and the fourth prayer was composed to be recited by prisoners. Each of the above prayers carries an indulgence of three years whenever the prayer is recited devou, tly and with contrite heart by the persons for whom the prayer was intended. The last two documents to be consideied are concerned respectively with the Church in Columbia and in Canada. On October 23, 1957 (AAS, pp. 224-25), the Sacred Congrega-tion of the Consistory gave definitive approval to the statutes governing the national episcopal conference of the Republic of Columbia. By a decree of November 21, 1957 (AAS, pp. 232-34), the Sacred Congregation of Seminaries and.Universi-ties canonically established the Catholic University of Sher-brooke in Canada. The local ordinary, the archbishop of Sherbrooke, was named the Grand Chancellor of the new university. OUR CONTRIBUTORS BARNABAS MARY AHERN, formerly professor of Scripture at the Passionist House of Studies, Chicago, Illinois, is at present com-pleting post-graduate requirements for a doctorate in Sacred Scripture in Rome. RICHARD P. VAUGHAN, an assistant professor of psy-chology at the University of San Francisco and d staff member of the McAuley Clinic, St. Mary's Hospital, is currently engaged in psycho- .therapy with religious men and women. JOSEPH F. GALLEN is professor of canon law at Woodstock College, Woodstock, Maryland. R. F. SMITH is a member oi: the faculty of St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas. EDWARD HAGEMANN is spiritual director at Alma College, a theologate for Jesuit scholastics, at Los Gatos, California. 300 I-low Should Mental Prayer Be Practical? I::dward Nagemann, S.J. o NCE I ATTENDED a conference on prayer in which the speaker undertook to show. how mental prayer is made practical. In a contemplation on the hidden life, he said, we picture our Lord sweeping the house--his care, His modestly, His simplicity. Let us draw from this the resolve: in imitation of Christ I shall sweep my room today at such and such an l/our. No one will deny that such prayer is practicalmwith a ver~gear~ce. But is this the full meaning of that "practical prayer" on which spiritual writers unanimously insist? This we may reasonably doubt. That mental prayer should be practical in some sense is unquestionable. To concern oneself in daily prayer with pious thoughts and movements of the will and yet, day after day, to permit voluntary failures in charity and obedience smacks of illusion. These interior convictions, these acts of the will must in some way flow into action and radiate their influence on one's daily life. Here is where the problem lies. How can we make prayer practical in this way? No simple answer, it seems, will serve as a catchall. Muck "depends, for example, on the state or stage of prayer one has reached. Alphonsus Rodriguez, who wrote primarily for young religious in the early years of their formation, warns us that we must not be satisfied with drawing from meditation a general desire of serving God but should come down to particular in-stances in our life when we can practice such and such .a virtue. (Practice of Perfection and Christian Virtues, 1929, p. 335). This, he states, is one ot~. the chief fruits to be gathered from meditation on the sacred Passion (II, p. 514). Practical prayer 301 EDWARD HAGEMANN Review for Religious in this sense is eminently suited to the audience Rodriguez pri-marily has in mind. Li3uis Lalleman~, on the other hand, was a tertian instruc-tor. Those whom he instructed had been in religion for ten years at the very least and were, therefore, somewhat experi-enced in mental prayer. Moreover, he was giving instruction also for the future lives of his hearers. Dealing with "practical prayer" in the Society of Jesus, Lallemant says, It is an error in prayer to constrain ourselves to give it always a practical bearing. We excite and disquiet ourselves in resolving ho~J we shall behave on su~Ch and such an occasion, what acts of humili.ty, for example, we shall practice. This way of meditating by consideration of virtues is wearisome to the mind, and may even possibly produce disgust. Not but that it is well to do this when we pray, to foresee occa-sions and prepare ourselves for them; but it should be done with free-dom of mind, without refusing to yield ourselves to the simple recollec-tion of contemplation when we feel ourselves drawn to it. (The Spiritual Doctrine of Father Louis Lallemant, 2nd. Princ., Sec. II, Chap. IV, Art. 1) We have here hit upon one of the differences between dis-cursive prayer and contemplation. This latter is not necessakily mystic in the strict sense. It is called, among other names, the prayer of simplicity, the prayer of faith, the prayer of simple recollection. In it, seeing by faith, we look and love. We may be taken up just with the Person of Christ and not with His virtues, arid there is no necessary turning back on ourselves,' The hour of prayer may pass without any reflex act on our-selves or any resolution being formulated. Yet the passing of an hour in the presence of the One we love tones up the whole spiritual man so that the entire day is influenced although we cannot say afterwards that this or that good action Was dhe directly to our hour of mental prayer. Archbishop Goodier has some words very apropos of this. The whole purpose of Illuminative prayer . . . is to make 'the super-natural life more and more a reality . If the supernatural thus becomes our atmosphere, our horizon, in prayer, then in ordinary life it must have its effect. This will follow, and in the actual experience of those who live by such prayer it does follow, even if no "application," no "res-olutions" whatsoever are made. If my life has been really with Christ for an hour, and if my soul all the t(me, no matter with what distractions 302 September, 1958 PRACTICAL MENTAL PRAYER? and pre-occupations of mind, has really been trying to express itself in some way to Him, then, not only for that hour, but for the rest of the day the knowledge of that person will abide. (An Introduction to the Study olr Ascetical and Mystical Theology, 1938, pp. 169-70). Goodier is but following in the footsteps of another Jesuit, a great master of the science of prayer, Jean de Caussade. In an answer to the question what becomes in this kind of prayer of the resolutions which one is accustomed to make dur-ing meditation, De Caussade replies: "There is another time for making these; the time of recollection is not fitted for this. . . Besides, usually as a result of this recollection, one finds oneself in all circumstances well disposed towards the practice of good and the dispelling of evil; and therefore much better equipped to keep those good resolutions that one formerly made without great effect." (On Prayer, 2nd. ed., 1949, p. 206) In discursive prayer the immediate end is the practice of some particular virtue. In the prayer of simple recollection the immediate end is union with God. The ultimate end, of course, is--must be~the practice of virtue. There is no necessary looking at self, no examination of self, no reflex acts. One looks at God. The acts are direct. As St. Francis de Sales says: There are souls who r~adily double and bend back on themselves, who love to feel what they are doing, who wish to see and scrutinize what passes in them, turning their view ever on themselves to discover the progress they make . Now all these spirits are ordinarily subject to be troubled in prayer, for if God deign them the sacred repose of his presence, they voluntarily forsake it to note their own behaviour therein, and to examine whether they are really in content, disquieting themselves~ to discern whether their tranquillity is really tranquil, and their quietude quiet; so that instead of sweetly occuping their will in tasting the sweets of the divine presence, they employ their understanding in reasoning upon the feelings they have; as a bride who should keep her attention on her wedding-ring without looking upon the bridegroom who gave it to . her. (Treatise on the Love of God, 1942, p. 259) Actually, at the end we may wonder if we have a good meditation. This may be a good sign, for as St. Francis de Sales says, "He who prays fervently knows not whether he prays or not, for he is not thinking of the prayer which he makes but of God to whom he makes it" (Treatise on the 3o3 EDWARD HAGEMANN Review for Religious Love of God, p. 391). Here en passant we may point out the importance of a brief recollection after the prayer is over. In it we see how we have done, if any carelessness crept into the prayer itself or into the preparation before. We thank God for what He has enabled us to do, and we note the general direction our prayer has taken. All that we have said brings out an important truth in spiritual theology. It is this: spiritual perfection is measured by the love that is in a soul, i.e., by both affective and effective love. St. Francis de Sales explains these two loves for us: By affective love we love God and what he loves, by effective we serve God and do what he ordains; that joins us to God's goodne.ss, this makes us execute his will: The one fills us with complacency, benevolence, ydarnings, de-sires, aspirations and spiritual ardors, causing us to practice the sacred infusions and minglings of our spirit with God's, the other establishes in us the solid resolution, the constancy of heart, and the inviolable obedi-ence requisite to effect the ordinances of the divine will, and to suffer, accept, approve and embrace all that comes from his good pleasure; the one makes us pleased in God, the other makes us please God. (Treatise on the Love of God, p. 231) Now it will always be safer to judge of the perfection of any soul by its effective love, i.e., by its virtuous life, for this will be a proof that the affective love is genuine. This is what the Church does in the inquiries leading up to canoniza-tion. Nevertheless, the perfection of one's spiritual life will depend primarily on affective love. This affective love is not a movement of the affections that arises spontaneously within us without any consent of our free wills; but it consists of acts freely admitted, both acts of the love of God and acts ¯ of the other virtues aroused out of love for God. Now, this is precisely what occurs in contemplation. We look and love. This loving consists sometimes of a single act lasting a certain length of time, sometimes of consecutive acts of the love of God for Himself or of the other virtues aroused by and clothed, so to speak, in love. As these are direct, not reflex acts, they are almost imperceptible When perceived, it is only in a 304 September, 1958 PRACTICAL MENTAL PRAYER? confused manner~ The effects, however, of this kind of prayer are most perceptible. They are good works. An eminent theologian, Joseph de Guibert, S.J., in his treatise, "Perfection and Charity," has these pertinent words: "One cannot immediately condemn as useless those general im-pulses of the love of God (e.g. in mental prayer) which are not immediately followed by some practical conclusion or resolve. If these are true movements of love, that is, not merely emotional but elicited by an act of free will, then they are meritorious in themselves and can greatly contribute to the increase of the dominion of charity over one's whole life." (The Theology of the Spiritual Life," 1953, p. 55) These words are but an echo of the strong statement of Lallemant: "We should regard as practical, and not purely' speculative, such exercise of prayer as disposes the soul to charity, relig-ion and humility, etc., although the affection remains within the soul, and does not express itself in outward a~ts" (The Spiritual Doctrine of Father Louis Lallemant, 2nd. Princ., Sec. II, Chap. IV, Art. 1). We see the importance of this affective love stressed in the third week of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius. At the end of the second w~ek the resolution or "election" has been made. The important thing now is to strengthen oneself so that one will be .ready to carry it out. In other words, the third week, as well as the fourth week, is to confirm the resolu-tion. Now, what St. Ignatius wants, in this week is told us in the third prelude of every contemplation, "To ask for what I want. It will be here grief, feeling and confusion because for my sins the Lord is going to the Passion." If I affectively love Christ in His sufferings, I shall more readily show my effective love for Him in action. What holds in a retreat holds also in general for medi-tation on the Passion. In a meditation on the crowning of thorns, Archbishop Goodier says: "Throughout meditation on the Passion there is little need to look for application; its own 305 EDWARD HAGEMANN Revicw for Religious dead weight should be enough, pressing down on us as it pressed down on Him; in scenes such as this, in particular, we need do no more than try to realize what they contained; to do so is to grow in sympathy, and sympathy is love." (The Crown of Sorrows, !.932, p. 92) To conclude. We have considered the two extremes in ordinary mental prayer: discursive and contemplative prayer. We have seen that both of these are practical. Between these two kinds and also in these two kinds themselves, there are as many stages and degrees as there are people making mental prayer. Because of temperament, training, family and educa-tional background, physical condition, etc., some people tend more to reflection, others more to acts of' affection. Some have more problems, psychological and spiritual, than others. All this influences mental prayer and the practical turn it will take. Moreover, as one progresses in prayer, it will always be toward simplification both in the thought process and in the affections. In addition to all this, it must never be for-gotten that mental prayer is--prayer. It is not just thinking and reflecting, examining self and making resolutions. As Father Edward Leen puts it: "It must always be remembered that return upon ourselves is not the essential activity and such return must be interwoven with abundant petition for Divine Light. Any concentration on self not directed and controlled. by a supernatural impulse and movement of grace is likely to beget mere natural activity if not degenerate into morbid self-analysis." (Progress Through Mental Prayer, New York, 1947, p. 182, note 6) ¯ We are to make progress, then, in perceiving more clearly and readily the touches of grace and in following its attrac-tions as to the choice of both the matter and the manner of our mental prayer--and all without anxiety. As a result we shall notice within ourselves a gradual growth in gentle pa-tience, a deepening of peace, and a desire more and more to do God's will--a complete surrender to His good pleasure 306 September, 1958 ]~OOK REVIEWS everywhere and in everything. Mental prayer is not an end in itself but a means by which we prepare ourselves to serve God better. That prayer, then, is practical that helps us to this preparation. As Our Lord expressed it, "By the fruit the tree is known" (Matt. 12:33~. De Caussade sums it up thus, "All prayer which makes us holy, better or less wicked is surely good, for it is just a means of sanctification" (On Prayer, p. 202). And somewhat more fully in his other work: "All prayer that produces reformation of the heart, amendmen~ of life, the avoidance of vice, the practice of the evangelical virtues and the duties of one's state, is a good prayer" (Aban-donment to Divine Providence, 1921, p. 140). Book Reviews [Material for this department should be sent to Book Review Editor, REVIEW ~FOR RELIGIOUS, West Baden College, West Baden Springs, Indiana.] THE PRACTICE OF THE RULE. By Louis Colin, C.SS.R. Translated from the French by David Heimann. Pp. 250. The Newman Press, Westminster, Maryland. 1957. $3.75. At first glance The Practice of the Rule might appear as just another book on religious perfection within the cloister. However, the book distinguishes itself fiom most of those of similar bent by treating at length an area of religious life which more fre-quently than not receives only passing mention from ascetical authors. Father Colin attempts to give "a complete and precise synthesis of the practice of the rule: its nature, its necessity, its enemies, its developments, its prerogatives." By more than a mere expository presentation, the author proposes to instill a love of the rule that will motivate the religious to an-exact and a generous practice of his order's institute as manifested by his observance of the rule. A brief introductory chapter presents the reader with a clear analysis of the fundamental character and primacy of an interior practice of the rule, the source of any sincere exterior observance. "Once again: the value of observance is measured less by its exterior rigor than by its spirit. The man whose practice of the rule is as 307 BOOK REVIEWS Review for Religious regulated and exact as a clock will have less virtue than another who is less regular but more spiritual in his obedience." The six following chapters treat in detail the interior practice which must perforce regard the rule with faith, confidence, and love. Faith in the rul~ is demanded because of the holiness and the authority of the rules themselves. Confidence in the rule depends on two factors: "conviction--hoping for everythihg from the practice of the rule; and fear--dreading everything from the violation of the rule." Love of the rule is "the most perfect and most necessary" force in interior practice of the rule. An interior practice rooted in deep faith, firm confidence, and genuine love leads riaturally and logically to regularity, that is, the exterior practice of the rule. "The Fine Points of Observance" and "The Martyrdom of Observ-ance" contain the author's views on this external observance. The final chapters discuss the enemies of both interior and exterior practice, progress in religious obgervance, and the advantages both to the individual and to the religious order which God has attached to perfect regularity. "Father Col~n" develops the subject clearly and forcefully. Prob-ably, as he himself suggests in the forward, the quotations are too numerous and, though they are "not without justification," could be fewer in number. The style is easily comprehended and befitting a tgpic of this nature. At the same time, credit is due David Heimann, whose translation from the French leaves little to be desired. Regrettably, perhaps, Father Colin feels compelled to observe that rule violations, "when they are unjustified, are never entirely free from sin." Apart from the fact that some moyalists dispute this, the employment of such a motive for rule observance.bespeaks in a sense a certain lack of confidence in the generosity and sin-cerity of ihdividual religious who, p~esumably, without such a motivation would fall into a wholesale disregard of the rule. In other places throughout his book, however, Father Colin definitely appeals to these two virtues--generosity and sincerity--as a solid foundation upon which true religious regularity rests. Consequently,. his treatment of the sinfulness of rule violations need not obscure the otherwise lofty motivation he presents. The Practice of the Rule not only is profitable for private reading and study, but also has value as public reading during times of retreat, of renovation of vows, or on days of the monthly recollection.--Rds~gT E. MuggAv, S.J. 308 ,September, 1958 BOOK REvIEWS THE GOLDEN DOOR. The Life of Katherine Drexel. By Katherine Burton. Pp. 329. P. J. Kenedy & Sons, 12 Barclay Street, New York 8. 1957. ~3.7~. This biography offers an interesting factual account of the background and activities of Mother Katherine Drexel, foundress of the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament for Indian and Colored People~ Tl~e second of three daughters of Francis Drexel., Jr., a promi-nent banker of Philadelphia, Mother Katherine spent the early years of her life enjoying the usual privileges, which great possessions afford. The formality of frequent social events in the town house was succeeded each summer by the pleasant days of leisure at the family's "country estate. Various visits or excursions while at home and extensive travel abroad, especially in Europe, complemented her formal education. The most important part of h.er heritage, how-ever, was thee deep Catholic piety and admirable charity which were so characteristic of her parents. One result of the innumerable visits of members of the hierarchy and missionary priests seeking financial aid for their work was the interest in the plight of the Indians and Negroes aroused in Mother. Katherine. Her concern increased as she learned of the manner in which these Americans were neglected and even deprived of their rights, by their government. While seriously co.nsider'ing her vocation, an audience with Pope Ldo XIII strengthened her decision to devote her life as well .as her wealth to these unfortunate Ameri-cans. This led to the establishment of a new congregation of sisters devoted exclusively to the Indians and colored people. After he.r own religious training under, the guidance of the Sisters of Mercy had be.en completed, the story of her life is, to a great extent, the story of successive trips:, to Rome in order to hasten the approval of hero congregation; to each mission, church, or school to inspect and direct operations. She established "three houses of social service and one mission center, many rural schools, eigh~ of them supervised by her sisters, sixty-one other schools-- twelve high schools, forty-eight elementary schools--and Xavier University, the first Catholic university ' in the country for its Negro citizens." A long life filled .with the hardships of travel and multiple administrative duties was terminated after a serious lingering illness. Mother Katherine died in 1955 at the age of ninety-six. 3O9 BOOK R~-TIEWS Review for Religious Love is expressed in deeds. And Katherine Burton has rightly recalled in an excellent manner the outward deeds of Mother Katherine. This reviewer found the general pattern of visits and trips somewhat tedious, but much less so than what Mother Katherine herself must have experienced. What is implicit in the deeds could have been, perhaps, made mo~e explicit by allowing Mother Katherine to express herself at greater length on various occasions. But perhaps a companion volume is planned to give us a more penetrat-ing study of the interior life and spirit of this remarkable handmaid of the Lord. The book i~ recommended reading for all. h JOHN W. MACURAK, S.2. KNIGHTS OF CHRIST. By Helen Walker Homan. Pp. 486. larentice. Hall, 70 Fifth Avenue, New York 11. 1957.$12.50. In this handsome and expensive volume forty-five Catholic orders of men pass in review. Instead of trying to be exhaustive, ¯ Mrs. Homan has chosen to present the oldest orders and/or those best represented in the United States today. Nece, ssarily, readers. will be disappoii~ted by the omission of groups they are interested in. Positively, however, the result is good: instead of very brief entries on every group in existence today, there are substantial essays of roughly ten pages, a length that allows Mrs. Homan some room to describe each oiae's historical origins, its peculiar spirit, and its work in the United States. My one regret is that space could not be found for at least one representative of eastern monasticism. Furthermore, Mrs. Homan has successfully carried through the difficult task she assigned herself. She has consulted the proper solid sources; the book is not a rosary strung with legends. Her statistics seem up-to-date and reliable (although I know of no other source for 4,000,000 Franciscan Tertiaries in 1947). She maintains a decent proportion both between essays and between the various parts of each essay. By its very nature, such a volume is bound to seem repetitious in style and content to the reviewer who reads it in a rather short space of time. At appropriate times of the year, however, each chapter would make interesting and profitable reading, say, in the dining rooms of thbse communities which have reading during meals.~W. P. KROLIKOWSKI, S.J. 310 September, 1958 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS THUNDER IN THE DISTANCE. The Life of P~re Lebbe. By Jacques Lederq. Translated from the French by George Lamb. Pp. 322.' Sheed and Ward, 840 Broadway, New York 3. 1958. His Belgian parents had English associations, so even in Ghent they called little Frederick Lebbe (1877-1940) Freddie. But early in life he interested himself in St. Vincent de Paul and China and, accordingly, called himself Vincent Lei Ming Yuan. We are told that the Chinese name means "Thun~[er in the Distance." The name turned out to be symbolic of not only the cannonfire and aerial bombing over his China as he was leaving that dear land for God, but also of the rain of grace in China during his thirty-nine years as Chinese citizen and missionary. Qery fdw books are so worth giving to any foreign missionary anywhere as this very beautifully written life. Any foreign missionary can learn wha.t he or she should be by reading this inspiring and amazing story of how little Phre Lebbe made himself a model.~6~ any missionary, clerical, religious, or lay. Any refectory audience interested in some entertaining, in-spiring, amazing history of the Church must hear this book read. The amazing part of the book is the opposition from really good men, priests and bishops, to the unequivocal directives of the Holy See that missions foster vocations among their converts. Since vocations mean priestsand religious, priests and religious mean bishops and. superiors, this means Asiatics and Africans over Europeans. Thanks be to God for the great missionary encyclicals of Popes Benedict XV, Pius XI, and Pius XII and for the very considerable part little P~re Lebbe had in giving the Church her now several hundred Chinese and Japanese and Indian ~nd Negro bishops and cardinals! Thanks be to God for the International Catholic Auxiliaries of Chicago and elsewhere whom Father Lebbe's great organizational ability gave us for the formation of good lay apostles.--PAuL D~NT S:J. BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS BENZIGER BROTHERS, INC.,. 6-8 Barclay Street, New York 8, New York. Teach Ye All Nations. By Edward L. Murphy, S.J. Here is an excellent introduction to missiology. The problem of the missions is viewed from many angles and is presented in its proper perspective. Consequently, it is an appeal for the missions that is different. 311 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS Review for Religious Instead of pointing out the desperate needs of the missions, it sets forth the theology of the. missions, not for theologians but for the general reader. Anyone who reads this book and applies its doctrine to himself will become mission minded aad do his share in carrying out our Lord's injunction: "Teach ye all nations." Pp. 234. $2.7L THE BRUCE PUBLISHING" COMPANY, 400 North Broadway, Milwaukee 1, Wisconsin. Religious Men and Women in Church Law. By Joseph Creusen, S.J. Sixth English edition by Adam C. Ellis, S.J. This is not a reprint but a completely revised edition of a classic volume. Seven appendices greatly increase its value. There you will find the list of questions for the quinquennial report; a summary of the la~ regarding .diocesan congregations of religious women/; a new papal instruction on" the cloister of nuns; decrees of t}~e Sacred Congrega-tion of Religious on military service; and a letter of the same con-gregation on the use of radio and television. Pp. 380. $6.50. EDUCATIONAL CONFERENCE OF THE SISTERS OF ST. JOSEPH .OF CARONDELET, Fontbonne College, St. Louii, Missouri. The Intellectual Life of the Religious. Proceedings and Papers of the Fifteenth Meeting, 1957. Sisters whose work is education can find in the proceedings excellent directives to achieve an integration of the spiritual and intellectual life so necessary for them if they are to achieve success in thd work to which God has called them. Pp. 100~ FIDES PUBLISHERS, 744 East 97th Street, Chicag~ 19, Illinois. Our Life of Grace. By Canon F. Cuttaz. Translated.by An-geline Bouchard. One of the more difficult subjects in. theology, yet one most profitable from an ascetical point of view, is the subject of grace. It also happens to be the one about which non-theologians know the least since it is so difficult to find books on the subject which are not written for professional theologians. That is why we owe a debt of gratitude to the author of the present volume. He realized that "ignorance of grace is ignorance of what is most fruitful for our devotion; of'the dogmas' best suited to stir the heart and will to good; of the most consoling and inspiring truths' of our religion." To remove this ignorance on the part of many he wrote Our Life of Grace: That he was successful is assured by the fact that the French edition is already in its fifth printing. The translation is excellent. Pp. 327. $6.95. 312 September, lp58 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS More Than Many .Sparrows. By Leo J. Trese. This time Father Trese has written a book for lay people. It is their problems that he considers, their happiness .that he ~trives to promote.~ And he~ does it in his. accustomed manner which is at once interesting and persuasive. Pp. 137. $2.95. -~ "~Fides Publishers have jhst issued three of their books in~ pa~er-back 'editions~° Conversation with Christ by "Pet~'r-Thomas Rohrbach, O,C.D. Pp. "171. $1.25. Lend Me Your Hands 'by Bernard F. Meyer, M.M. Pp. 241. $1.50'. Father of the Family by Eugene S'. Geissler. Pp. 157. $1.25. These books were described in this column'in Januaiy, 1957, July, 1955, and: July, 1957, respectively. FORDHAM UlXfIVERSITY PRESS, New York 28, New~ York. Planning.lfor ~he Formation of Sister~, Studies on th~ Teaching Aposiolate.and Selections from Addresse~s of the Sister Formation Conferences. 1956-1957. Edited by,~ Sister Ritamary, C.H.M. ¯ This book oiS most interesting because of the clarity and authority .with which it portrays the many problems .of the teaching apostolate; it is indispensable i:or those responsible for meeting the many present and future needs of this apo~stolate; it is most consoling for it gives such .eloquent testimony, of the thought .and labor being expended to meet these many needs. Pp. 314. $3.50. GRAIL PUBLICATIONS, St. Meinrad, Indiaha. The Angels. By Pascal Parente. There exists in the universe created by God beings that far surpass man in intelligence and power. This ,is the w0r!d of pure spirits. ,Like men ~they had a period if probation' a~d many failed the test. They are now bad ~pi~'its br devilS.' Th~ good spirits or angels are ou~- allies and.can be coufited on' fo~ help "in ~our time of probation; the' devil~ are odr ad~,~rsaries. Many of us do not know enough about this spirii wdrld and its'contacts with ,the world in which we live. It is greatly to our ad~,antage~ tp~ldarn more about th~ w(~rld of the angels. The p~esent volume tells ~hat G6d has revealed concern-ing this universe of spiri'ts ahd ~vhat theologians havd bd~n 'able to deduc~ from"