Suchergebnisse

Issue 47.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1988. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The edito-rial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO. 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. ©1988 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: U.S.A. $12.00 a year; $22.00 for two years. Other countries: for surface mail, add $5.00 per year; for airmail, add $20.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Acting Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors Sept./Oct. 1988 Volume 47 Number 5 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to R~.wEw EOR R~.LtGWOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW ~o~t REI.IGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. The Social Dimensions of Religious Ministry Joseph P. Daoust, S.J. This is a slightly revised version of Father Daoust's well-received address on August 13, 1986, to the thirtieth national assembly of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men. He has been his province's assistant for social ministries and higher educa-tion. At present he is on sabbatical in Africa and Asia and has no fixed residence, but he may be addressed at Jesuit Provincial Office; 7303 W. Seven Mile Road; De-troit, Michigan 48221. In a terrifying image of where our civilization is leading us, a prominent Italian writer envisions Western 'man (and woman) becoming like an earth-worm: a simple organism having only mouth, intestines, and anus, do-ing nothing but ingesting, digesting, excreting. ! It is an image of pro-ducing in order to consume, and consuming mindlessly in order to move what has been produced through our societal '.~'gut." Any kind of con-sumption will do, just as the earthworm moves any kind of soil through its intestinal tube. Indeed, that is how the earthworm (and Homo con-sumens) moves ahead in dark, dank, endless underground burrows-- consuming, producing, excreting. When indigestion sets in because of overproduction, war serves as a purgative,°consuming the detritus of ex-cess lives and goods, relieving the constipation of our maniacally pro-ducing and consuming system. Such is one vision of what we are doing to ourselves as a society. There is another vision of what society can become: [God] will reign over many peoples and arbitrate for mighty nations; and they shall beat their swords into pl6wshares,.and their spears into prun-ing hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. But they shall sit, everyone under his vine and un- 641 649 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 der his fig tree, and none, shall make them afraid; for the mo~th of the Lord of hosts has spoken it (Mi 4:3-4). In this vision, peace comes when each peasant has enough of the earth's goods for simple sustenance and can sit in quiet contemplation of the goodness of a just and beautiful world. All of this is achieved by learning God's ways and walking in God's path.2 Neither of these visions is fully realized in our world today. There are forces at work leading toward the first; the Spirit of God continues the age-old struggle to draw us toward the second. We are called as citi-zens of this age, as Christians, as religious, to invest our lives in help-ing our society make the ancient Deuteronomic choice: "I set before you life or death, blessing or curse. Choose life, then, so that you and your descendants may live" (Dr 30:19). Life is what the reign of God would bring about in our midst; the flowering of a society of justice and peace. The reign of God has profound social consequences. Justice and God's Reign: Scriptural Considerations in Scripture the reign of God is inextricably linked with social trans-formation. When Israel came to know Yahweh, it was as a God who heard their groaning in slavery and delivered them out of bondage (Dt 10:18-19). Remembering their own deliverance by God, the Israelites were bound in covenant not to oppress the poor or weak in their midst (Ex 22:21ff.). For Yahweh is a God who hears the cry of the poor (Ps 34:6). Again and.again Yahweh intervened through the prophets to call Israel back to this elemental demand: Is not th'is the sort of religious p?actice that pleases me?--it is thb Lord Yahweh who speaks--to break unjust fetters and Undo the thongs of the yoke, to let'the oppressed go free., to share your bread with the hun-gry and shelter the homeless poor, to clothe the man you see to be na-ked and not turn from your own kin? Then will your light shine like the dawn and your wound be quickly healed over. Your in.tegrity will go be-fore you and the glory of Yahweh behind you (Is.58:6-8; see also 1: 16, 10:1, 42:5). The religions and gods of the ancient Near East were primarily con-cerned with the legitimation of the established order of things3 (a func-tion still all too current today!), Imperial power, divinely ordained class structures, codes of behavior which reinforced "the way things have al-ways been"--these were the trappings of (eligions whose gods could be captured in images, located in certain sacred places, and therefore con-trolled. The divine power was thus subject to purchase (propitiation), Social Dimensions of Ministry / 64:3 able to be administered and routinized so as to support society's estab-lished ways of proceeding. Israel in the Old Testament is constantly tempted to refashion God in controllable images. Royal leaders and wealthy classes are portrayed as the initiators of this "whoring after' other gods" so as to legitimate their oppression, wars, and sumptuous ways. What distinguishes ancient Israel from surrounding societies is the constant intrusion of an imageless God, who refuses to dwell in temples or in"gold idols fashioned and controlled by the powerful. Yahweh dwells only ineffably on high, and with the lowly (Is 56: 15). Israel's God is dis-engaged from the ways of worldly power and identifies over and over again with the marginal, the dispossessed in society.'~ Indeed the iden-tity of this imageless God cannot be captured in traditional religious ways, but is expressed only by what Yahweh does--primarily acts of so-cial liberation: I am Yahweh . . . who delivered you from bondage (Ex 20:1), who loves j,ustice (Ps 99:4), who sees justice done for the orphan and widow, who answers the poor and needy (Ps 86:1 ), who chooses the weak (Dt 7:7), who reduces princes to nothing, and annihilates the rulers of the world (Is 40:23). Jesus spends his public ministry extending the good news of God's compassion and reign to all. It was a scandal to his contemporaries that he especially~ included suspect classes (shepherds, publicans, tax collec-tors), social outcasts (lepers, prostitutes, adulterers, Samaritans), and the poor. He went to his death coffsciously assuming the role of the Suffer-ing °Servant of Yahweh, knowing that this was the only way to bring about the reign of his Father. Some sought his death because he reso-lutely presented an unconventional, iconoclastic face of God Ioying the outcast, the db'wntrodden, the poor--"He has blasphemed.'~ Others sought his death because' his proclamation of God's justice threatened the social order.5 The Scriptures, then, portray a God who cares passionately about jus-tice, indeed even a "pain-embracing" God6 who acts in solidarity es-pecially with the oppressed and the marginalized. Christ in his ministry and message seals this revelatioh of God constantly acting in the world so as to bring about its transformation. The Gospels close with Christ risen inviting us down through the ages to "Follow me." Justice and God's Reign: Cultural Considerations Down through the ages the Church has wrestled with that impera- 644 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 tive with varying degrees of success. Like the Israelites of old, the Church is often tempted to replace the radical, transforming call of the Gospel with something more palatable to the cultural and social powers that be. Oppressive divisions of wealth and power, wars to protect these divisions, sumptuous living for some and dire poverty for others--these still need legitimation as of old. The idols which legitimate today are ide-ologies, social and economic theories, materialism and consumerism apo-theosized as a way of life. Idolatry in a literate society is more likely to use words than precious metals to achieve its effects. But religion is still being domesticated so as to legitimate and maintain, rather than confront, these idolized patterns of injustice. One hundred fifty years ago, Alexis de Tocqueville visited America and found our culture and social institutions permeated with a new idea: Individualism is a calm and considered feeling which disposes each citi-zen to isolate himself from the mass of his fellows and withdraw into the circle of family and friends; with this little society formed to his taste, he gladly leaves the greater society to look after itself . They form the habit of thinking of themselves in isolation and imagine that their whole destiny is in their hands . Each man is forever thrown back upon himself alone, and there is danger that he may be shut up in the solitude of his own heart.7 This individualism intersected congruently, then as it does now, with the competitive pursuit of self-interest, defined in terms of material well-being. But de Tocqueville found these social "habits of the heart" coun-terbalanced and modulated by a strong tradition of biblical faith, with its emphasis on self'-sacrifice for the common good, supported by the re-publican virtues of our early democracy: public duty and civic equity. Modern commentators have found these modulating forces to be with-ering, and individualism, competition, and rampant pursuit of material self-interest becoming exclusive social preoccupations.8 Individualism, like any other human creation, has much to recommend it, much human value. But when it becomes absolute, unquestioned, unfettered, it dis-torts and truncates human interaction. Its idolization creates and sustains injustice in society on a mass scale. Recent studies of American life and religious values have shown the distortions that unfettered individualism produces ir~ our cultural patterns of faith and religion.9 Historically., the disestablishment of religion America may have helped compartmentalize religious faith away from public social concerns. But religious individualism has been the moving force for the privatization of religious faith and practice. Social and cul- Social Dimensions of Ministry / 645 tural patterns of our society have been immunized from religious critique or challenge in the faith of many. Religion is felt to deal only with per-sonal or family issues; it intersects with public policy only to challenge it if' it intrudes on these narrow issues. Other social policies and struc-tures, individualism itself, materialism, the competitive economic envi-ronment- all are beyond the competence of religious critique. God and faith have no relevance in the marketplace, the business or political world, or anywhere outside the "soft" inner realm of the personal and the familial. In fact, religion blesses "the way things are" in these secu-lar real-world social settings. It legitimates them and the results they bring about, as effectively as the compartmentalization of religion to tem-ple worship and sacrifices did in ancient Israel, with consequent uncon-cern for the oppressed, the hungry, the poor. Religion is seen culturally by most as an idiosyncratic choice, a strictly personal preference or conviction as to which "brand" each per-son would like to "consume." And American consumers of religion largely choose a faith distorted by cultural forces so as to give them res-pite from social chaos and from a sense of social destiny beyond their control. They do this by retreating inward, to focus on the inner self, or by retreating outward, to externally imposed structure coming, they be-lieve, directly from God. The first of these privatized patterns of religion, the dominant U.S. cultural preference, is the retreat inwards to the inner self. ~0 Personal ex-perience of one's inner self is the one secure basis for religious mean-ing. Self-realization, personal growth, is the highest aspiration. There is a great similarity to the goals and language of psychological therapy. Re-ligious practice is spiritual utilitarianism: "What's in it for me?" Spiri-tual experience is primarily individual and prescinds from the world and its problems. The world and even God are seen in terms of their impact on this inner self. Morality is individualistici commitments to others, to the world, are transient: "s(~ long as it feels right or helps me grow." The Church can be reduced to a kind of spiritual Kiwanis Club or psy-chological. therapy group in the individual's pursuit of self-fulfilling ex-perience. The second pattern of religious individualism is no less privatized. It is more prevalent among the less affluent, or among those whose self-image is not strong enough to found religious meaning there. Faith is placed in sources of meaning external to self and the real world. God speaks from "outside'"the ordinary world (and the inner self), directly giving rules and tenets which, if they are rigidly adhered to, will bring 646 / Review~or Religious, September-October 1988 about salvat.ion of the obedient individuai--there is little hope for the world. Fundamentalist adherence to biblical texts, magistral father fig-ures, or traditions gives meaning and some sense of security in a bewil-dering social Order. Morality is personalistic rather than societal; it deals with interpersonal and family relations in clear, simple answers; it leaves unchallenged the sociocultural setting in which these are played out. The world, society at large, is either beyond question or beyond salvation. In either case, faith has little to say to it. ., Both of.these cultural patterns of religion, therapeutic withdrawal to the inner self and sectarian withdrawal to external structure, are the prod-uct of individualism. It is individualism retreating from confrontation with a chaotic, seemingly uncontrollable social environment. Material-ism, competitive pursuit of self-interest, ruthless power pervade the secu-lar realm of business, politics, the media. Recent rapid shifts in social structures and paradigms destabilize a cultural setting already inhospita-ble to traditional religious values. Individuals, frightened, isolated, pow-erless, withdraw from the imperatives of biblical faith which might re-quire them to confront these social forces to work for the new creation of God's reign. A religion of inner escape or outer control seems to of-fer a haven from the heartless world. But both forms of religion lack the ability to integrate the self and/or God with the surrounding society. Per-sonalized religious experience supplants the "mighty acts of Yahweh" as the basis for belief. And such faith is fragile, fading when the per-sonal experience fades. There is only a faint hold on commitments, to faith itself and to the other-centered giv.ing which builds on faith. Church, rather than being the fundamental sacrament of God's insertion into the world, becomes a community of convenience or of protection from the world. In solipsism or sectarian withdrawal, religion stands apart from worldly matters. It is a pale shadow of robust biblical faith: the faith of a people on mission from a world-transforming God. This description of American religious behavior is not just the way millions.of lay believers of all religious backgrounds practice their faith. These are tidal forces affecting the faith life of all of us as members religious orders and congregations. We are equally tempted to withdraw from the fullness of biblical faith into therapeutic blandness or rigid struc-turalism. We too can live more easily with these idolized forms of relig-ion, which neither do justice nor admit the injustice of such unconcern. Religious life itself can become an enclave for self-realization or secu-rity, safely compartmentalized away from the rigors of God's call and mission to a troubled world wracked by social sin. Which one of us has Social Dimensions of Ministry / 64"/ not felt keenly the longing to huddle, Jonah-like, even in the belly of a whale, rather than face Nineveh? Justice and God's Reign: New Directions But also in our lifetimes as religious, we have witnessed a remark-able movement of God's Spirit. It is transforming the Church and relig-ious life, calling us again to our biblical roots. The God who cares pas-sionately about this world, who hates idols and the injustice they le-gitimate, is neither absent nor sitting quietly in a culturally designed com-partment. Embracing the pain of the poor and the marginalized, God broods over our bent world "with warm breast and with ah! bright wings." ~ In Vatican II, the Church chose to position itself as a people in serv-ice to the world, seeking to transform it in the biblical image of God's justice. ~- The 197 ! Synod of Bishops specified this further: J~stice and participation in the transforming of the world fully appear to us ~s a constitutive dimension of the preaching of the gospel, or, 'in other words, of the Church's mission for the redemption of the human race and its liberation from every oppressive situation (Justice in the World, no. 6). The social teaching of the Church has gone~ beyond a reformist long-ing for organic, static society. In ,.magisterial teaching and theological de-velopment there is the commitment to struggle for and with the margi-nhlized to achieve justice. The spiritual is not compartmentalized from the affai'rs of this world, but integrated as a critical, driving force to shape '~'a new earth where justice will abide.''~3 In'theory and in prac-tice, from Medellin to the Philippines, in our inner cities and in recent pastoral letters of U.S. Bishops, we have witnessed the Church exercis-ing the ancient 'special love of Yahweh for the poor. ~4 Our challenging mission is newly clear, as are the many social forces which oppose it. It is the mission of our "pain-embracing" God, it is the mission of Christ see~king the reign of God.' It is fresh and new in our age, and as old as the prophets: "This is wfiat Yahweh asks of you, only this: to act justly, to love tenderly, and to walk humbly with your God" (Mi 6:8). What Justice Requires But what does it mean to do justice'? or to transform the world? or change social structures? The justice which flows :from faith in Yahweh has a dynamic, trans- 648 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 formative quality. Subtle philosophical distinctions may be appropriate for impartial, uninvolved observers. But there is a simplicity and stark-ness to biblical justice questions, which are raised in God's name from peasants (Amos, Micah), slaves (Moses), and exiles. ~5 The royal circles of Egypt, Jerusalem, or Rome are preoccupied with questions of pros-perity (how to get more) or security (how to keep it). The prophetic voices from below demand that freedom, sustenance, places of dignity in the community be given (back) to every one Of God's chosen people. Everyone has a right to these goods, as a birthright from God who cre-ated and gave them all to the community in the ~fi~:st place. God will act to make things right again if those in power will not listen. The primary expectation of God from Israel is the doing of justice, in this sense sharing with or restoration to those on the margin of society: the widow, the orphan, the stranger, the poor. Every other ethical norm or covenan-tal requirement flows from this reading of social reality. There is to be a redistribution of social power and goods to achieve a society where all can sit under their own vine and fig tree, with no one to trouble them. Or as gentle Mary puts it in Luke: "[God] has pulled down princes from their thrones and exalted the lowly. The hungry he has filled, with good things, the rich sent empty away" (Lk 1:52-53). The pastoral letter of the U.S. bishops, Economic Justice for All, contains an eloquent articu-lation of what justice requires in our times. The scriptural section of that letter is especially worth meditating upon, to touch i'nto our faith as the force which moves us to justice. The religious reality described there can be summarized as the community of the human race--the community in which and through which God creates each of us as individiaals-- building community. This community is given all of creation to enjoy, and God's love be-sides. In response, God asks in covenant that the community be com-mitted to care for one another, that they show the same resilient love (he-sed) and solidarity toward each other that God has Shown them, The touchstone of this solidarity, from the time of the prophets, has been whether the community cares for those at the margins of society, those without power to demand a share of what the community has been given by God. This preferential option for the poor is as ancient and as crucial to the covenant as Yahweh's earliest commands to Israel concern-ing the widow, the orphan, the stranger in the land (Ex 22:20; Dt 10:.18). In fulfillment of the covenant, the community needs to do more than distribute food and clothing to the poor~ It has to bring ,them in from the margins, allowing them to participate in the creative life of the commu- Social Dimensions of Ministry nity. Then they can provide for themselves in dignity and will no longer be marginalized. In this, the pastoral letter goes beyond the usual em-phasis, in Catholic practice, on works of charity. These are seen to be insufficient since the poor have a right to a creative place in society, not just to be passive recipients of our largess. Bringing the marginalized into full participation in community life will, of course, build up the community itself. It will then be more able to show solidarity to those still at the margin, bringing them into fuller participation, and so forth. The cycle of response to the covenant is also the cycle of the community regenerating and building itself up as a soci-ety of justice. The ~uli religious insight is that, in this dbing of justice to one another, God is made present, is found, is worshiped at the cen-ter of this communal re-creation. Faith and justice reinforce each other, even merge, as God moves us to transform our society. This cycle de-scribes positively how God cails us through justice to renew the face of the earth. But there is also resistance to the Spirit of God; it creates injustice in the structures of society and reverses the cycle of creating a commu-nity of justice. A community can tear itself apart by denying meaningful participation to the poor, ignoring the increasing masses of the margi-nalized, replacing communal solidarity with relentless pursuit of self-interest. This injustice the Spirit of God calls upon us to confront, for the Spirit "convinces the world concerning sin and justice and judg-ment" (Jn 16:8).~6 A practical example may clarify how social structures can resist trans-formation. Some one hundred fifty years ago, the Jesuits in Maryland owned slaves. When Jesuit authorities in Rome remonstrated with them over this situation, the American Jesuits responded that the slaves were being very well cared for and, indeed, would likelY suffer much worse if they wei'e given their freedom and turned loose in American society. The Jesuits of Maryland missed seeing the social structure--slavery-- which needed to be transformed, and focused on the personal dimension of care the slaves received. It seems so evident now, but to those en-meshed in the toils of unjust social structures, they often seem "natu-ral," "the way things are,", unquestionable and unconfrontable. The U.S. bishops of the last century were also unable to confront slavery as an institution until the Civil War settled the question for everyone. ~7 One wonders if the terrible price of that war would have been paid had the churches and religious .people of the land not resisted, by and large, the call of the Spirit to transform the structure of slavery. 650 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 While it is clear that God can work to bring good even from wars and great social cataclysms, this is not the way in which the Spirit of God desires to achieve the transformation of the world. The model of the Suf-fering Servant of Isaiah becomes normative for us in the cross of Jesus. Justice is a constitutive element of what the reign of God is about, but "suffering with" the poor, the oppressed, the marginalized is the man-ner of achieving God's jus.tice. We are called to follow our "pain-embracing" God, and our crucified Lord, in confr6nting the evil of this world. It is a manner far different from ou~ ordinary human institutions of violence, vengeance, and material power. God's ways are not ours, and God's just,~'ce cannot be fully achieved w. ithout a~lopting God's ways. Principles of Ministry for the Reign of God If I have been at all clear, it seems to me that two principles flow from what has been developed thus far. I would like to make these two principles explicit, go on to a couple practical strategies for implement-ing them, and then conclude with three sets of questions for considera-tion. What God has done for us and what God asks of us create a first prin-ciple. An essential part of the reign of God is justice, specifically the jus-tice which flows from living out a faith in Yahweh, faith in Jesus. There-fore, followers of Christ should have a concern for justice as a central focus of all their ministries. There are not justice ministries separate from other ministries, any more than there can be ministries separated from faith. Faith and justice are the complementary core of all Christian min-istry. Secondly, the "pain-embracing" love of God, especially inclusive of the marginalized in soc.iety, characterizes the ministry of Jesus "even unto death, death on a cross." The followers of Jesus are missioned to work for the reign of God in like fashion: through experiencing the strug-gle for justice "from below," at the sidle of the downtrodden, accept-ing the conflict or defeat which that entails, believing in the way of the Suffering Servant who is the Lord. Practical, Strategies The following suggestions are practical strategies for implementing these two principles. They are not new, but they might be helpful~ 1. Reflection on mihistry, and particularly on the justice dimension of ministry, should be based on experience. We experience the living God in ~'the joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the men [and women] of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way Social Dimensions of Ministry / 651 afflicted.'? ~8 Christ dies and rises again for us in sharing the struggles and visions of real people. Experience draws us beyond ideologies and preconceptions; it energizes us for our quest for the reign of God. But the experience must be reflected upon. Stream-of-consciousness ministry may be personally vivifying, but it does not help us understand the social forces that create what we experience, or how we habitually respond. Social analysis can gradually remove the limitations of our cul-tural blinders and make us more critically aware of the social structures which must be transformed to "make clear the way of the Lord" (Mr 3:3). But so~zial analysis is often sterile, immobilizing, unless it is joined with faith and reflection on what God is saying to us. Relating both our experience and our analysis to the wellsprings of our own faith life en-ergizes us to act, and inspires us to discern how to act, for the reign of God. Our ministry is, then, m~ade reflective and revivifieO. And it gives us. further experience, which can be further reflected upon, leading to fur-ther inspiration and discernment. And so on. Many of you will recognize this process for reflection on ministry. It has been variously called the hermeneutic circle, the circle of praxis, or the pastoral cycle. 19 It is a methodology for moving steadily and re-flectively toward more authentic ministry. It may sound a little ominous at first, with terms like "social analysis" and '.'theological reflection." But it can be done very simply. It has been effective among illiterate peas-ants. 2° All of us ought to be able to do it. As a strategy for ongoing re-flection on ministry, it is.best when done communally, as a form of com-munal discernment. 2. In all ministries, there is the opportunity to experience the joys, hopes, griefs, and anxieties of ordinary people. But at least in orders like the Jesuits, most ministerial settings provide scant opportunity to come into contact with the poor and the marginalized. This should not mean that these ministries are exempt 'from the imperatives of justice-seeking or that they are unable to carry out ministry for the reign of God authen-tically. Ministries such as education or pastoral work with middle- and upper-class publics can seriously commit themselves to the work of con-scientization for the reign of God. These ministries deal with those who exercise power and influence over "the way things are"; their publics can bring about or at least come to tolerate changes in the social order which lead toward justice for the marginalized. It is a crucial element of the mission of all these ministries to communicate the call of the liv-ing God for solidarity, especially with the marginalized, and to urge con- 659 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 sistently that social injustices be transformed to bring about the reign of God. But particularly in these ministries, the lack of any lived experience of the poor or oppressed strengthens ct]ltural-religious tendencies toward therapeutic blandness or conformist externalism. We should attempt to build into these ministries, and into the lives of their publics, some ex-perience of real people living at the margins, victims of unjust social con-ditions. There are immersion programs, social-service projects, inte-grated discussion groups, and other forms of contact between people whom our social structures tend to isolate from each other. Such ex-periences will often be episodic, ephemeral, perhaps even seem voyeur-istic. But they can be honed to a finer edge of reality if they are carried out in cooperation with people who are in consistent, full-time ministry or presence among the poor. Within religious congregations we can leaven all our ministries by missioning some of our best people to ministry among the poor, asking them to share with all of us the insights and challenges of their lived ex-perience. The enlivening experience of God present at the margins can be corporate, shared by brothers or sisters in widely divergent ministries, if conscious efforts are made to foster such sharing. For this leavening to occur, it is important that the religious we mission to ministry among the poor be among our best, mainstream people willing and able to in-teract with a wide range of our corporate membership. My experience has been that we too often allow the lone rangers, the disaffected, the angry, or the difficult to wander off in ministry to the poor. Or we so isolate good folks sent into difficult ministries of social justice that they burn out quickly. As religious communities we can become more effec-tively present with the poor, with consequent enriching of all our apos-tolates, if we will take care to engage in such ministry corporately and reflectively. Mere presence among the marginalized does not guarantee any re-flective stance, in terms of either social analysis or theological reflec-tion. There is ample evidence of religious, ministering regularly among the poor, who never question the social structures which afflict their peo-ple. Or worse, they adopt a benevolent one-way relationship of "giv-ing" to the poor, rather than living with and learning from them about the reality of God. To counter these tendencies, itis helpful to be in con-tact with those engaged in the direct ministry of social change, challeng-ing some aspect of social injustice from an integrated faith perspective. As a full-time occupation, religious ministry for social change is rare Social Dimensions of Ministry / 653 this country. There is every indication that God's spirit is calling us, through the Church, to make it more prevalent. But it is unlikely to be-come a dominant mode of ministry in any religious congregation. That does not mean that a few good men or women could not be missioned, in each of the larger ~ongregations, to engage in this newly urgent min-istry. Not only will this serve social transformation for the reign of God; it can helpail our ministries become more competent to deal with the so-cial and theological questions most pressing in our society. Small or large religious congregations can relate to interreligious social-justice centers in most major cities of the United States. And individuals in any minis-try can become advocates of social change in one area or another, as par-ticipants in coalitions of concerned people devoting time and energy out-side their ordinary works to transforming society.2~ There should be no religious congregation so burdened with maintaining historical com-mitments that it cannot find ways to mission at least some key members to collaborative or part-time work for social justice, so as to leaven the entire ministry of the group. In this strategy, then, every ministry can participate in some level of social action for the reign of God: conscientization of the more afflu-ent and powerful, ministry of presence and social service among the marginalized, direct ministry for social change of unjust social structures. Having all three levels of social ministry within a congregation, if there is communication and cross-fertilization among them, can enrich the mis-sion of all for the reign of God. Even where all three levels are not pos-sible, much the same effect can be achieved by collaboration with other religious and lay people committed to working for the transformation of society. No matter which ministries are present within a congregation, all must become imbued with a central concern for social justice. The reign of God and the love of Christ draw us all to this. Some Questions for Consideration Let me turn now to three sets of questions, for which, I assure you, I have no answers. But they may be worth wrestling with in thinking about the future of religious life. I. Most religious congregations had as part of their founding charism a special concern for ministry among the poor.22 Most of our congrega-tions several generations ago ministered mainly among the poor in Amer-ica: immigrant Slavs and Germans, Italians and Irish, still on the mar-gins of American society. Why now are the vast majority of American male religious working in ministries for the more affluent? Was it a form 654 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 of ministerial "bracket creep," where we drifted up the income ladder along with the traditional publics we served, moving with them in from the margins of American society? If we were to decide anew about where to focus our ministries, what might the Spirit call us to do for the reign of God? 2. Most young men and women coming into reiigious life have been formed by American sociocultural conditioning. They look to religion to foster their own self-realization or to shelter them from the world's turmoil through external authority. Our older veterans of religious life are subject to these same alluring siren songs of American cultural relig-ion. Doour models of early and continuing formation, with their empha-sis on psychosocial development or on external structures of religious life, challenge cultural limitations of religious belief and practice? How much therapeutic self-nurturing or sheltering in external authority do we allow? How can we transcend these tendencies in order to instill full bib-lical faith, which integrates God, society, and self? How form religious for mission, to join our suffering, pain-embracing God in transforming the world? 3. The last set of questions is not mine. They come from Archbishop Weakland when he was asked how Jesuits could help implement the so-cial vision of the Economic Pastoral. :His response went something like this: (a) You Jesuits have a lot of access to the powerful in society. They are your alumni, counselees, fellow board members. You turn to them to support~your own works. Will you use that access to power on behalf of the marginalized and their agenda of justice? (b)You Jesuits have ex-perience of the third world, knowledge of the marginalized. Will you bring that forcefully into the consciousness of the American people, who are so woefully ill-informed about the struggles and attitudes of the poor? (c) There are many good young people, in business, the professions, or factories, who are dissatisfied with what our society offers. They want to remain lay men and women, but long for a way of life, a vision, more consonant with the Gospel. Can you imagine, and then image credible lifestyles and life goals for these lay Christians? Archbishop Weakland's q'uestions are generalizable, I would think, for almost any religious con-gregation. Conclusion ¯ I would like to observe, in conclusion, that fait.h does not seem to be a question at the margins of society. Faith in God is very much alive in the third world and in the inner city. There the overwhelming ques-tions are those of justice. Faith seems most fragile and in doubt in the Social Dimensions of Ministry / 655 sterile, cluttered tunnels of our earthworm society of affluence. Faith with-ers here, though we overnurture it with self-concern, though we fence it in with our fears. But faith in the living God is a wild thing. It thrives at the margins, where struggle and hope for God's justice blaze brightest. If we go there, our own religious life may be rekindled, as we join our God in renewing the face of the earth. Let us go, then, without guilt or rage. Let us go in joy because our God draws us, calls us to join the struggle there for the transformation of the world. There, too, we shall meet the love of our lives, Jesus the Lord. NOTES ~ Alberto Moravia, The Red Book and the Great Wall (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1968);' pp. 12-21. -~ Mi 4:2. See Walter Brueggemann, "Vine and Fig Tree: A Case Study in Imagina-tion and Criticism," The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 43 (1981): 188-204. 3 See W. Brueggemann, '~OId Testament Theology as a Particular Conversation: Ad-judication of Israel's Socio-Theological Alternatives," Theology Digest 32:4 (1985): 302-325. This excellent study of the conne~ztion between Old Testament theophany and justice in the social order was the Bellarmine Lecture at St. Louis University in 1985. I am indebted to it for many of the insights in this scriptural section. 4 See Norman Gottwald, The Tribes of Yahweh (Orbis, 1979), chapter 49: "Mutual Reinforcement of Yahwism and Social Egalitarianism." 5 Jn 11:48-51. See Jon Sobrino, Christology at the Crossroads (Orbis, 1978), pp. 201 ff. 6 The term is Brueggemann's. See his "A Shape for Old Testament Theology: Em-brace of Pain," The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 47:3 (I 985): 395-415. 7 Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America, first published 1835-1840. Quota-tion is from Anchor Books edition (1969), pp. 506-510. 8 See J. F. Kavanaugh, Following Christ in a Consumer Society (Orbis, 1981), or his address to this Assembly in 1985: "Religious Life and Leadership in the Con-text of American Culture." From a different perspective, see Daniel Bell, The Cul-tural Contradictions of Capitalism (Basic Books, 1976). 9 An outstanding example of such studies is Robert Bellah et al., Habits of the Heart (Univ. of California Press, 1985). I have relied upon it heavily for this section: ! cannot recommend it highly enough. Another recent study of religious and social trends concurs with much of Bellah's findings: see J. Chittister and M. Marty, eds., Faith and Ferment (Augsburg/Liturgical Press, 1983). ~0 See Bellah, op. cir., pp. 235ff. ~ The phrase is from G. M. Hopkins's poem, "'God's Grandeur" (1877). ~2 See especially Gaudium et Spes, nn. I-3 and passim. ~3 Gaudium et Spes, n. 39. See C. Curran, "Catholic Social Ethics: A New Ap-proach'?" Clergy Review (Feb.-Mar. 1985). 656 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 ~'~ On the history of the preferential option for the poor, see D. Dorr, Option for the Poor: A Hundred Years of Vatican Social Teachings (Orbis, 1983). ~5 See Brueggemann, Parks, and Groome, To Act Justly, Love Tenderly, Walk Hum-bly: An Agenda for Ministers (Paulist Press, 1986), a fine series of reflections on the Micah text and on justice. m6 See Pope John Paul ll's two recent encyclicals on sinful social structures, Domi-hum et Vivificantem (1986), no. 56; and Sollicitudo Rei Socialis (1988), passim. ~7 See Doris Gottemoeller's talk to this Assembly in 1985: "Challenges to Relig-ious Leadership from a Changing U.S. Church," p. 7. ~8 Gaudium et Spes, no. 1. 19 As developed, respectively, by Juan Segundo, The Theology of Liberation (Or-bis, 1976); by Paolo Freire, The Pedagogy of the Oppzessed (Herder & Herder, 1970); and by Holland & Henriot, Social Analysis (Center of Concern, 1984). The last has a simple, practical treatment in chapter I. 20 See Ernesto Cardenal, The Gospel in Solentiname (Orbis, 1979). 2~ Examples nationally include: Amnesty International, Bread for the World, Catho-lic Worker, Fellowship of Reconciliation, Interfaith Action for Economic Justice, Just Life, Network, Pax Christi, to name only a few. There are countless local and regional grouPs as well. 22 From a brief survey of the self-descriptions of U.S. male religious groups listed in the latest vocation guide, Ministries for the~ Lord: A Resource Guide and Direc-tory of Catholic Church Vocations for Men (Paulist Press, 1985), this seems to be true for the great majority of nonmonastic religious congregations of men. I'd Love to, Lord, But. Paul Wachdorf Father Wachdorf's "Leading People into Prayer" appeared in our May/June 1988 issue. His address remains the same: University of Saint Mary of the Lake; Munde-lein, Illinois 60060. In the Gospel of Luke, chapter 4, Jesus returns to his home town of Naza-reth, goes to the synagogue on the Sabbath, and reads from the prophet Isaiah: The spirit of the Lord is upon me; therefore, he has anointed me. He has sent me to bring glad tidings to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and release to prisoners, to announce a year of favor from the Lord (Lk 4:18-19). These words give a tone and a direction to the public ministry Jesus was about to begin. In 1971, the Synod of Bishops meeting in Rome produced a docu-ment entitled Justice in the World in which they state: Action on behalf of justice and participation in the transformation of the world fully appear to us as a constitutive dimension of the preaching of the Gospel, or, in other words, of the Church's mission for the redemp-tion of the human race and its liberation from every oppressive situation (Justice in the World, Synod of Bishops, Second General Assembly, Nov. 30, 197 I). The teachings and the ministry of Jesus and the teachings of the Church have consistently proclaimed that action on behalf of justice is not simply an option, not just a matter of personal preference or inter-est, but is an integral part of the gospel message and the Christian life-style as we are called upon to live it. 657 Review for Religious, September-October 1988 Given the crucial importance of this ministry in the Church and in the world today, I would like to reflect on my own journey into and ex-perience of the ministry of social justice from two viewpoints. First, I will look at some of the common resistances people encounter in them-selves as they hear the gospel challenge of social justice. Then, I want to examine some possible steps which people might profitably pursue to help them break through their resistances and respond more fully to the challenge of social justice. Intellectual Assent vs. Active Participation For the past seven years I have worked with the social justice pro-gram at Mundelein Seminary. Prior to that, I served in a parish for six years. During my years in a parish, I always gave intellectual and verbal assent to the principles of social justice. After all, how could I as a priest do otherwise? But as I look back on those years, I realize that my no-tional assent was not often translated into real and different patterns of behavior. Practicing what I preached about social justice was no simple task, although I did not realize that at the time. Resistances, Excuses, Rationalization~ After my appointment to the seminary, I was elected as the faculty representative for our Peace and Justice Committee. Frankly, I was not enthused about this appointment. But since ! felt somewhat insecure in my new environment and in my new work, it seemed to be an offer I could not refuse. I began to think about my commitment and involvement, l won-dered, "What am I supposed to do?" Soon I recognized within me sev-eral resistances, excuses, and rationalizations. In the past, they had kept me from becoming involved in the ministry of social justice in any sig-nificant way. I wanted to say yes to the Lord and to respond to the call of social justice. But my excuses kept getting in the way. At that point, I realized that 1 would have to critique my resistances with honesty through dialogue and prayer. Otherwise, my resistances would effec-tively block me from ever becoming involved in any way at all. Prophets Are Not Popular Quickly, I recognized the first resistance. Prophets are not popular. From Old Testament times to the present day, men and women who sting the conscience of a nation, a people, or a Church become unpopular. They are often criticized; they have their motives questioned; and they are pushed to the fringes of society. I'd Love to, Lord, But. / 659 ! remember very clearly an incident that happened as I was growing up. In the early 1960s, Dr. Martin Luther King led a march through my neighborhood, a white Catholic stronghold, to Marquette Park. I remem-ber standing on the corner on which my parish church and rectory were located watching the march. There were hundreds of white people lin-ing both sides of the street. Many of them were shouting, cursing, or throwing things at the marchers. Two of the priests came out of the rec-tory and began telling the people to go home and leave the marchers alone. Some of the people responded by cursing at the priests and tell-ing them to mind their own business. I saw a man spit on one of the priests. The following Sunday at Mass, the priests spoke out in favor of the marchers and their cause and spoke against the behavior of the bystand-ers, many of whom were good parishioners, pillars of the church. A few people at the Mass got up and walked out. Those days, I helped count the Sunday collection. That week and for a few weeks afterward, the col-lection went down significantly. I have never forgotten that incident. I still admire the courage of my parish priests. At the same time, I am aware that my later reluctance in seminary and in my initial years of priesthood to become involved in the ministry of social justice or to preach about justice issues was strongly influenced by that experience. In my initial involvement with the Seminary Peace and Justice Com-mittee, I soon came to a basic understanding. ! must be willing with com-plete honesty to critique that part of myself that desires to be popular and to be liked by others. Otherwise, I would never say anything controver-sial or would never speak out or would rarely take action on behalf of issues of social justice. Poverty is Messy and Unglamorous A second resistance for me rests in a simple fact. Poverty is messy and unglamorous. For the past seven years I have volunteered on a part time basis at an overnight shelter for the homeless. Many of the people who come to spend the night there are not "pretty." They are dirty; they smell; they are often sick; some have head lice; some are alcoholics; some belong in a halfway house or mental institution. I have always been fortunate enough to grow up and live in a clean, healthy, and comfortable environment. Throughout much of my life I have been isolated and insulated from the poor and the homeless. I rec-ognized another need for honest critique. I needed to confront that part of myself that wants life always to be nice, comfortable, and pretty. Oth-erwise, I would never become involved. 660 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 Myths, Stereotypes, and Prejudices A third resistance for me consists in myths, stereotypes, and preju-dices. Our culture is filled with them--about racial, ethnic, and relig-ious groups and about the poor and those who work for and with them. "The poor are lazy and would rather be on welfare . If they really wanted to, they could better themselves . They like being poor. See how happy they are . People involved in social justice causes are un-patriotic . All social justice organizations are communist inspired." The list goes on and on. I cannot go to a social gathering without hearing at least one joke that plays upon racial, ethnic, and cultural stereotypes. At times, I have told and laughed at those same jokes. I needed to confront and honestly critique my own myths, stereotypes, and prejudices. Otherwise, I would never become involved. Social-Justice Ministry is Disturbing There is a fourth resistance. I find this ministry disturbing. Working in the area of social justice has forced me to critique my own lifestyle, my attitudes about material possessions and wealth, and my use of the world's resources. I must admit that I like the good life. Conspicuous consumption is the name of the game in American society. In my early years of priest-hood when I was no longer a poor student but had a regular salary, I re-ally enjoyed having nice things. They compensated for my "great sac-rifice" of celibacy. I needed to honestly critique my own desire to live the good life and my tendencies toward materialism. Otherwise, I would never become involved. Fear A fifth resistance for me is fear. I found within myself a whole clus-ter of fears. I believed that if I worked with the poor and on behalf of social justice, I would be injured, harmed, or abused in some way. When I spent my first night at a shelter for the homeless, I was thor-oughly convinced that I was going to get head lice. TV news broadcasts and newspaper articles have always been filled with stories of crime and violence among the poor and in the inner city. When I was in college, I was robbed at gunpoint by two young black men. That experience re-inforced an attitude that had been drilled into me in all kinds of ways in my neighborhood: all black people are dangerous and to be feared. I needed to critique with honesty and courage that part of myself that de-sires security and safety at all costs. Otherwise, I would never take the I'd Love to, Lord, But. / 661 risk of becoming involved. An Overwhelming Sense of Poverty and Injustice in the World There is a final resistance. When I consider the extent of poverty and injustice in the world, I feel overwhelmed. I say to myself: What can one person possibly do to make a difference? My efforts will be futile and a waste of time. The work is innately frustrating. I will continually run into brick walls and have to deal with bureaucratic red tape and unsym-pathetic people and institutions. Progress is often measured in inches. You live with little or no sense of accomplishment. I realized that if I was not willing to honestly critique my own feelings of being over-whelmed and my own desire for instant results, then I would never be-come involved. Overcoming Resistances ~ It was not easy for me to look at my resistances. It is no easier to-day. Life seemed to be more pleasant when I closed my eyes to the re-alities of poverty and injustice as they existed all around me. Even after seven years of working with our Peace and Justice Committee, I find that I can still bring out of my storehouse old and new excuses which warn me to "back off," to rest because "I have done enough." As I con-tinue to come in touch with each of my resistances, I am aware that there are various steps that I have to enter into in order to overcome them. MyNeed for Challenge A first step is to allow myself to be challenged by others. I found myself challenged recently in a way I least expected. My sister who is a registered nurse and a certified nurse midwife recently volunteered to work for two years in Papua New Guinea as a lay missionary. I asked her why she wanted to do this. She told me that she was aware of the many talents, gifts, and blessings God had given her throughout her life. She felt that serving as a lay missionary was one way in which she could best express her gratitude to God. As I listened to what she had to say, I felt a lot of pride and admira-tion for my sister. At the same time, I felt a bit embarrassed as I realized that my own commitment to serving the poor at times looked pale in com-parison. I need people like my sister to challenge me and to keep me look-ing at my resistances. I need people like my sister to inspire me and to keep me in touch with my desire to bring to others the Good News that Jesus proclaimed in the Gospel of Luke as he began his public ministry. They need to say little. Their lives are bold proclamation. 669 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 As important as they are, such challenges are ~not enough for me. I have an amazing capacity to ignore or rationalize away the challenges that come from outside of me. To break through my resistances, I need to pray, to dialogue With others, and to simply begin. MyNeed for Prayer A second step for me is to bring my .resistances before the Lord in prayer. I begin by naming as honestly as I can my fears, my doubts, and my inner resistances. I express to God in my prayer what I am feeling and why I am feeling it. I ask God to break through my denial, to re-move from my eyes the scales that blind me to the,breadth and depth of my resistances so that I can see them for what they are. I place my resis-tances in the hands of God and invite God to respond. Here begins what I call the zone of discomfort in my prayer. To say to God "thy will be done" rather than "my will be thine" is~very fright-ening. What if God reveals to me something 1 do not want to see? What if God asks me to do what I do not want to do? At this point, I must qui-etly and patiently wait for God to respond, trusting that the God who loved me into existence will not abandon me or ask me to do anything that I am not capable of doing. MyNeed for Dialogue Prayer leads me to a third step. I need to talk to another person about my resistances. St. Ignatius in his Rules for the Discernment of Spirits, Week I [326] talks about the evil spirit as a false lover who "acts in or-der to keep his own suggestions and temptations secret, and our tactics must be to bring out into the light of day such suggestions and tempta-tions to our confessor or director or superior" (David Fleming, S.J., The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius: A Literal Translation and A Contem-porary Reading [St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1978], p. 213). Resistances need to be brought into the light of day so that they can be seen for what they are. When I do not talk to another person about my resistances, I find that they can gain power to control me, even after I have brought them to prayer. I can easily deny them or sweep them un-der the carpet. In hones( dialogue with another, I am given the gift of freedom of choice. In honest dialogue with another, I find challenge, new perspective, affirmation, support, and the courage to begin. My Need to Begin A fourth step is to begin. At Mundelein Seminary, there is a Spiri- l"d Love to, Lord, But. / 663 tuality and Justice group composed of faculty and students. Each mem-ber of this group has chosen a concrete action to pursue during the school year in some area of social justice. People have chosen to fast, to work at a soup kitchen or a shelter for the homeless, to deaccumulate their pos-sessions and to live more simply, or to pursue the Pax Christi vow of nonviolence. The premise behind this group is that we live ourselves into new ways of thinking, valuing, and behaving. The way to begin is robe-gin. The way to break through and break down our resistances is to be-gin doing something, no matter how small or insignificant. I have chosen the Pax Christi vow of nonviolence as my action for this year. In the sh"ort time that I haqe pursued this, I have already be-gun to experience ways in which my thinking, my attitudes, my values, and my behaviors are changing. I can feel my resistances to living out this vow b(eaking down in the very act of acting. The words of Mother Teresa are most applicable here: I never look at the masses as my responsibility. I look at the individual. I can love only one person at a time. I can feed only one person at a time. Just one, one, one. You get closer to Christ by coming closer to each other. As Jesus said: "Whatever you do to the least of my breth-ren, you do to me." So you begin . ! begin. I picked up one per-son. Maybe if 1 didn't pick up that one person, 1 wouldn't have picked up 42,000. The whole work is only a drop in the ocean. But if I didn't put the drop in, the ocean would be one drop less. Same thing for you, same thing in your family, same thing in the church where you go. Just begin . . . one, one, one. (Source unknown) MyNeed for Support A final step for me is my need for ongoing support. My commitment to working for justice in the world is fragile and tenuous. I find that I need ongoing challenge to help me keep looking at and dealing with my resistances. I also need the support and affirmation of others to keep me going when I experience moments of discouragement and frustration. The Spirituality and Justice group of which I am a part provides me with opportunities for ongoing challenge, prayer, dialogue, and action. At our initial meetings, we spent time praying about the commitment we hoped to make. We broke into dyads to talk to another about why we chose to be a part of this group, about the action we were planning to pursue, and about the fears and resistances we were experiencing inside of us as we prepared to begin. We came back into the larger group to share the fruits of our dialogue. We concluded with shared prayer. At this point, most of us in the group have chosen and have begun 664 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 to pursue an action. We see future meetings as an opportunity for us to take time for solitary prayer as we continue to bring our actions before God. The meetings help us to share in aone to one way and in the larger group the impact that our action is making on our thinking, valuing, and behaving. The meetings offer support and prayer for and with one an-other in our actions. Here we give witness and challenge to one another as we keep looking at and confronting our resistances. Conclusion The journey into the ministry of social justice is challenging, diffi-cult, and painful. There are many ~tesistances that cooe from within and without. There are many starts and stops. It is a journey that cannot be successfully negotiated alone. There can be no authentic journey with-out God and fellow travelers. My experience is that the journey is well worth the effort for my good and the good of others. May the Spirit of the Lord be upon us in our quest to "bring glad tidings to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and release to prisoners." Understanding Novitiate Formation Wilkie Au, 'S.J. Father Au has just completed six and a half years as novice director. He is writing a book tentatively titled Acquiring Habits of the Heart: Holistic Religious Forma-tion. He may be addressed at Loyola Marymount University; P.O. Box 45041; Los Angeles, California 90045. Vatican II,s call for the renewal of religious life set into motion a radical reexaminatio.n of the purposes, processes, and structures involved in the formation of candidates for religious life. The aggiornamento of John XXIII required that those responsible for religious formation make the adaptations needed to prepare religious candidates fora lifetime of dedi-cation and service in a rapidly changing world and Church. Because sen-sible adaptation depended on having a clear sense of what objectives were sought, much of the discussion among formation personnel (forma-tores) in the postconciliar years centered on the purposes and goals of the different phases of the formation process. Consequently, the noviti-ate or initial formation in many orders was thoroughly evaluated in light of the renewed understanding of religious life in the modern world, and many dramatic changes followed. Nevertheless, more than twenty years later the question is still being asked today: "What should be the overriding aims and objectives of the novitiate?"~ According to Father Gerald Arbuckle, S.M., a former as-sistant general of his community, many formation personnel today agree that the experience and the efforts to adapt the novitiate program accord-ing to the requirements of Renovationis Causam have not always been as successful as they would have wished. Many are still uncertain about what to do in the novitiate. Many questions remain: "Should there be a one,to-two-year novitiate? . When should the formative apostolic ex-periences take place and what should they accomplish? . How much 665 666 / Review for Religio. us, September~October 1988 separation, if any, from the world around them should novices experi-ence?" In brief, many questions about the aims and objectives of novi-tiate formation persist.2 Today the drastic drop in the number of those entering the novitiate adds further reason for adaptations in novitiate formation. To be accept-able, these adaptations must, however, retain the essential goals of the novitiate. Precisely what these needed changes are and how they are to be implemented will depend on concrete circumstances of place and per-sonnel. But, more importantly, before any sensible adaptation can be made, it is imperative that there be a clear rearticulation of the basic goals of novitiate formation. Otherwise,. there is the danger that our ad-aptations will be misguided and essential aspects of novitiate training be inadvertently°lost. The purpose of this article is to articulate an under-standing of novitiate formation, based on my si'x years of experience as director of novices of the Jesuits of the California Province. It is my hope that this article will stimulate and contribute to a discussion of novitiate formation at a time when formatores throughout the world are attempt-ing to deal with the adjustments made necessary by, among other things, declining numbers. While this article will. reflect Jesuit documents and my ,own experi-ence working within a Jesuit novitiate (with a group averaging between twelve to fifteen,new candidates every year), I am hopeful that other re-ligious groups of men and 'women working with smaller numbers can dis-cover in my comments what is universally true of the novitiate process in general. In a word, I believe that any novitiate program that purports to embody the spirit of Vatican I1 must include three essential aspects: (1) vocation discernment; (2) religious, socialization; and (3) Qngoing in-dividuation. These three overlapping purposes of the novitiate must, in my opinion, be retained no matter what adapta!ions, are made to accom-modate changing circumstances. What follows is a discussion of these three major goals of the novitiate. Vocation Discernment The objective bf vocation discernment in the novitiate is to help nov-ices come to a peaceful awareness and a free acceptance' of God"s will for them in regard to their state of life. Candidates come seeking help in discerning wh(ther God is indeed calling them to a lifelong commit-ment to tile service of Christ with this particular religious group. Sev-eral considerations are helpi~ul in providing this assistance to them: Confirmation of a Call versus "Weeding Out" The nOvmate must be Viewed as a positive process, as a concrete aid Novitiate Formation / 66"/ to those trying to test out their call to religious lif~. The novitiate should not be designed or perceived as a "weeding out" system, something ,like the basic training of an elitist military unit or the strenuous audition for a coveted part in a chorus line. The novitiate process would be vitiated at its core if it were to be seen as a systematic attempt to test candidates by deliberately placing artificial obstacles before them and screening them on the basis of their ability to overcome these obstacles. The de-structive and dysfunctional consequences of this negative view of novi-tiate formation can be documented in the "horror stories" of many older religious. In addition to the regrettable pain and htirt inflicted on peo-ple, a negative approach ~to the novitiate is fundamentally flawed because it encourages fearful and anxious novices to circumvent, rather than in-vest in, the complex process of discernment. Vocation discdrnment requires an openness and attention to one's in-terior movements, especially in prayer, and an honest disclosure and dis-cussion of these movements in spiritual direction. These attitudes of open-ness and honesty cannot exist in the kind of atmosphere of fear and threat which a "weeding out" approach inevitably produces. Furthermore, such an approach focuses too much attention on external requirements that need to be met in order to survive, like ~'hoops one has to jump through" to make the grade. Dangerously distracting, such a pre-occupation with "making it" can seriously jeopardize the integrity of one's discernment process. Good discernment relies heavily on a per-son's ability to hear the voice of the Lord speaking deeply in the soli-tude of one's heart and in the concrete circumstances of one's life. In light of this, the novice director can be most helpful by imitating the posi-tive role of Eli, the priest, who directs the young Samuel to the place where he is instructed to respond to the Lord's summons by saying, "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening" (1 S 3:1-9). The Dynamic of Election and Confirmation The term "election"' was used by lgna~tius of Loyola to designate the choice made by a person seeking the will of God regarding some con-crete matter in his or her life. For the last four centuries, Christians have found the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius helpful in making an elec-tion, especially when trying to determine how they should serve Christ. For Ignatius, such a determination was best done in the context of prayer, for "prayer is the place where we sort out our desires and where we are ourselves sorted out by the desires we choose to follow. ,,3 The spiritual discernment that takes place in the novitiate results in an election regard-ing the direction one's vocation should take. Besides providing direction, Review for Religious, September-October 1988 however, the election process in the novitiate also seeks to test out the depth and freedom of a person's desire to serve Christ through the life of the vows. The Exercises were designed by Ignatius to help in "preparing and disposing the soul to rid itself of all inordinate attachments, and, after their removal, [in] seeking and finding the will of God in the disposition of our life for the salvation of our soul."4 In a Jesuit novitiate the Exer-cises are usually made in the course of a thirty-day retreat soon after en-trance. This experience provides the context in which the Jesuit novice director helps the individual novice either to make an election regarding his vocation or to reaffirm his previously~ made decision to be a Jesuit. Those who make an election to pursue the Jesuit way of life must then generously engage in the novitiate process with the hope that the Lord will clarify and confirm their desire. Thus, vocation discernment in the novitiate involves a two-year period of' monitoring one's deepest desires and ascertaining whether the desire to serve the Lord as a Jesuit perdures and deepens throughout the course of the novitiate. If this desire per-dures, the novice can then express this desire through the first vows of a Jesuit. Michael J. Buckley, S.J., describes these first vows as an offering, following upon an election, made in perpetuity, very much like the initial election of the Exercises. Like this offering, they are con-tingent upon the subsequent confirmation by the Lord, worked through a human being's personal religious history over the next ten or fifteen years.5 Until he takes his final vows many years after the novitiate, "the Jesuit lives in a period of probation, testing whether the first offering of his life to God [through first vows] is accepted and confirmed by divine providence."6 Buckley summarizes this Ignatian dynamic well by explain-ing "the way in which one moves toward finding and giving his life over to the will of God" within the framework of the Spiritual Exercises. There isthe initial offer of a choice to God our Lord, an offering which is made according to a time for making an election and which is then presented before the Lord . What the dynamic of the election looks for after the moment of offering is the subsequent confirmation'by God. Election as a religious history, as an experience of Providence, devel-ops over time between these two major events: the time of human offer-ing and the period of confirmation by God.7 Clearly, then, the objective of vocation discernment in the novitiate is to help novices determine whether the depth and direction of their Novitiate Formation / 669 heart's deepest desires move them to make a self-offering of themselves through vows. Absolute clarity and certainty regarding the future can-not be expected at the end of the novitiate period, since the person's self-offering must await "the subsequent confirmation by God." As Buck-ley eloquently states, For a man who follows God, who listens to God throughout his serious experience, the future is unknown and mysterious--not unlike God him-self. And he moves into this mystery without prematurely forcing clar-ity because his experience of God directs this movement.8 The Test of Existential Validation Colloquially stated, the test of existential validation asks novices this question: "Does the shoe fit?" This is an important question for voca-tion discernment, and it must be asked on a regular basis. While the Ig-natian election helps novices find God's will for them in the deep de-sires of their hearts, the test of existential validation enables them to dis-cover God"s will in the concrete details of their lives. The method of existential validation is basically very simple. When they first enter, the novices are asked to live the life of a Jesuit as if they have already taken the three vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. Then they are asked to pay attention to the "fit" throughout the course of their novitiate. In other words, they are asked to "try on the shoes of being a Jesuit" and check for the fit as they actually walk in those shoes. In their concrete experience, do they find that living the vows in an actual Jesuit community is life-giving and productive? Do they dis-cover that, with the passage of time, there is an increasing congruence between what they want for their lives and Jesuit ideals? As they grow in knowledge of what being a Jesuit involves concretely in this histori-cal time and place, do they find a match between what they desire and what life in the Society of Jesus offers and requires today? Another aspect of existential validation involves testing the authen-ticity of one's desire. This is done mainly by checking for the congru-ence between what one professes to value and desire and how one actu-ally chooses, decides, and behaves. Although all human beings live with a discrepancy between the ideal and the real, drastic and consistent de-viations from the norms and aspirations of religious life should make one question the genuineness and depth of one's desire to be a religious. Though painful and disruptive, getting in touch with authentic desires can be a liberating experience. Furthermore, while self-reporting is an important means for gather- 670 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 ing data in the process of existential validation, the feedback of the re-ceiving community is also very important in testing out the existential fit between the individual novice and the peculiar charism of a particu-lar religious institute. Vocation discernment in the novitiate must ascer-tain not only if a person desires to take on religious life, but whether he or she has been given the gift and charism to live that life. A realistic assessment of this capability is a crucial aspect of vocation discernment. For example, from the concrete evidence of a person's life, can it be judged that the Lord has given the aspirant to an apostolic religious com-munity the following prerequisites: -- the ability to live in community with relative peace and joy? -- the capacity to love with celibate chastity in a non-exclusive man-ner? -- the.freedom to live with simplicity and detachment? -- the ability to be mobile and available to be sent anywhere on mis-sion? The underlying presupposition of this line of inquiry obviously is that one's God-given abilities, personality, and inclinations can indicate in helpful ways the precise form and manner in which one is being called to serve Christ. Not to pay serious attention to these concrete indicators is to disregard an important aspect of vocation discernment. Vocation Shortage and a ~,ranny of Numbers I would like to make a final comment regarding vocation discern-ment in the novitiate. It seems to me that the declining number of candi-dates c~n create a ,~ituation in which vocation discernment is not engaged in with seriousness and detachment. The disordered desire to keep the few that come can jeopardize and short-circuit the discernment process. At a time of drastic diminishment, external pressures to hang on at any cost to the few that do enter are sometimes exerted by formed members of the community. This pressure, as well as the interior unfreedom of formatores themselves, can impede a thorough discernment process.9 Fur-thermore, unconsciously treating novices with a "precious few" men-tality can lead to a form of coddling that would be unhelpful for relig-ious formation and spiritual growth. Religious communities that have had only a few candidates during the last decade and at present experience only a trickle from year to year are particularly susceptible to this dan-ger. Religious Socialization: "Habits of the Heart" The term "religious socialization" has been popularized by John Novitiate Formation / 671 Westerhoff III in discussing the question of how elements of religion and faith ,~are transmitted from one generation to another. While he does not apply the term to the formation of religious candidates, nevertheless, it seems to capture quite well one of the essential purposes of the noviti-ate, that is, the handing on of a religious tradition and lifestyle to per-sons desiring to enter the life of a religious group as fully participating members. Religious socialization, according to Westerhoff, is a process consisting of lifelong formal and informal mechanisms, through which persons stistain and transmit their faith (worldview', value ~syst~m) and lifestyle. This is accomplished through participation in the life of a tradition-bearing community with its rites, rituals, myths, sym-bols, expressions of beliefs, attitudes and values, organizational pat-terns, and activities.~° As defined by Westerhoff, religious socialization is a lifelong proc-ess and thus does not exactly describe the novitiate, which (to the relief of all involved) is limited to one or two years. Technically speaking, re-ligious socialization is equivalent to the whole process of formation, which more and more is being viewed as a lifelong affair. Because of ongoing liturgical renewal, biblical and theological reflection, and the rapidity of changing conditions of our times, religious have been urged to commit themselveS seriously to "continuing formation." ~ Neverthe-less, the ~oviiiate is the initial phase of the lifelong process involved in the assimilation of members into religious life. Viewed as such, Wester-hoff's notion of religious ~ocialization provides a useful way of under-standing an essential purpose of the novitiate. Adaptations of novitiate formation must be guided by the essential goal of religious socialization. The basic question raised by the task of handing on the tradition Of religious life to new aspirants is this: What is tO be~handed down and how? What values, beliefs, mores, and ways of proceeding has the receiving community judged to be of perennial worth, such that they should remain permanently .definitional of the group? To employ a phrase of Alexis de Tocqueville, the nineteenth-century French observer of democracy in America (a phrase recently popu-larized by a national bestseller), what are the "habits of the heart" that the receiving community deems absolutely essential for maintaining its group life with integrity and vitality'? In "habits of the heart" Tocqueville included "notions, opinions, and ideas that 'shape mental habits'; and 'the sum of moral and intellectual dispositions' " as well as habitual practices with respect to such things as religion. ~- Once the receiving community has come to a clear consensus on the 672 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 content which it wishes to transmit, then it must decide on the most ef-fective means for this transmission. The question of how to raises a num-ber of considerations which every novice director must ponder if the no-vitiate program is to have any intelligible rationale. Some of these im-portant considerations will be discussed below. The Question of Contact and Separation For the sake of effective religious socialization, there often arises the question of what contact novices should have with family, friends, those in ministry, and formed members of their own religious order. Arbuckle has provided a very useful framework to reflect on this question. ~3 Re-lying on anthropological data regarding initiation rites, he proposes three-stage process for the novitiate, which, according to him, is essen-tially an initiation rite: the stages of separation, liminoid, and the incor-poration or reaggregation. Stage I emphasizes separating the novices from the ordinary life they have left behind in order to dramatize the radicality of the transition from lay life to religious life. While this stage may be brief, the separation also symbolic. The symbolism must express to the candidate that in order to respond to the call of the Lord there must be a withdrawal from the world of "or-dinary" living with its roles and interests, its speed, and its distraction. The symbolism must convey the message that to follow the radical de-mands of the gospel message one must be prepared to "leave father, mother, brothers, sisters, and all things" for the sake of the Lord. 14 To convey this new dramatic reality, novices should, at this stage, be separated physically and geographically from other members of the group who have already gone through the passage of initiation. Not to separate them, "when the aims of the initiation process are so different from the aims of postnovitiate training, is to make the realization of the novitiate aims impossible to achieve."~5 The second stage, called liminoid (from the Latin, limen, threshold), requires the kind of seclusion that fosters strong investment in commu-nity building. It is precisely in the context of a vibrant community life that the novices are to experience the "habits of the heart" which the receiving community wish(s to transmit to its new members. This is the time for introducing the novice to the unique spirit of the institute, peculiar charism within the Church, and its characteristic way of proceed-ing. By so inculcating its spirituality, mores, history, and tradition, the receiving community aims to bond the new member to its past and thus Novitiate Formation / 673 to provide a foundation for the novice's identification with the group. According to Arbuckle, this second stage of relative seclusion should last about a year. The third stage is that of incorporation or reaggregation, a period when novices are reconnected with the religious family outside the no-vitiate. This stage should be as long as or even longer than the liminoid stage. Basically a time of "evaluated pastoral experience," this stage is to be seen as an integral part of the novitiate process. Arbuckle ex-presses the aims of the third stage by citing paragraph 25 of Renovationis Causam: Besides gradual preparation for apostolic activities, they [that is, the ex-perimental periods outside the novitiate] can also have as their purpose to bring the novice into contact with certain concrete aspects of poverty or of labor, to contribute to character formation, a better knowledge of human nature, the strengthening of the will, the development of personal responsibility and, lastly, to provide occasions for effort at union with God in the context of active life.~6 In my opinion, Arbuckle's three-stage approach provides a rich and comprehensive understanding of the novitiate process, as Well as a sound basis for determining the question of the amount of separation and con-tact that would be helpful for novices. That there be some kind of alter-nation between separation and contact has also been clearly endorsed by others. For example, the Jesuit decree on novitiate formation states: Although entrance into the novitiate should entail a real separation from the life previously led in the world, superiors should nevertheless pro-vide that the novices, while consistently maintaining a spirit of recol-lection, should have sufficient social contact with their contemporaries (both within and outside the Society). Likewise the necessary separation from parents and friends should take place in such a way that genuine progress in affective balance and supernatural love is not impeded. IV The Arbuckle model is useful because it enables the novitiate to ef-fectively bond new members to the religious group, which is the goal of religious socialization. The bonding is both with the past (the commu-nity's traditions and history) and with the present (its present members and ministries). By means of form'al and informal contact, then, the re-ceiving community links its new members to its group life. The Question of Structure and Nonstructure It is my opinion that both structure and nonstructure have important and different functions in the process of religious socialization. The no- 67'4 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 vitiate process must include times for both. Structured time is important for thi~ development of the habits and skills necessary for sustaining a lifetime of religious dedication. This time of structure is the period tra-ditionally known as "common order" during which the novices's day is regulated according to a schedule with definite periods for communal and personal prayer, for work around the house, for conferences and classes with the novice staff, for individual study, and for apostolic in-volvements. Because the development of habits such as those that con-tribute to a faithful prayer life and spiritual discernment requires regular repetition and practice, structured time for such training is important in novitiate formation. Equally important is time for more freedom and less structure in the novitiate learning process. These times of nonstructure provide an op-portunity for the novices to test out to what extent, they have internal-ized and appropriated what they have sought to learn during times of struc-tured learning. For example, has the individual novice found himself or herself able to faithfully sustain a regular prayer life when away from the structural supports of the novitiate? To foster personal responsibility among novices for their own development, the Jesuits' 3 i st General'Con-gregation stated that "a necessity is that the no~,itiat~'s way of life be not so rigidly determined that the novices, lacking in all initiative, can hardly ever practice spiritual discernment, or even obedience itself, ex-cept in the form of a passive and impersonal submission."~8 The non-structured periods of the novitiate allow the novices as aspiring religious to find out truthfully and behaviorally what changes in their lives and at-titudes have actually taken place as the result of their training in the limi-noid stage. Therefore, I believe that a rhythmic alternation between struc-tured and nonstructured time is an essential dynamic of the novitiate learn-ing process. The Question of Experience and Reflection Another important learning dynamic in the novitiate involves the com-bination of experience and reflection. This mode of learning, variously called experiential learning or praxis, calls for the novice's active engage-ment in learning experiences and a subsequent reflection upon those ex-periences, with an eye to what insights and knowledge can be.,gleaned from them. This form of experiential learning is applicable to many ar-eas in which novices are called to grow, that is prayer,t9 interpersonal relationships,2° and ministerial effectiveness. The goal sought through this mode of learning is, in the words of the Jesuits' 33rd General Con-gregation, "a transformation of our habitual patterns of thought through Novitiate Formation / 675 a constant interplay of experience, reflectipn, and action.' While experiential learning can be a powerful form of learning, there is always the danger that it can lead to anti-intellectualism, if it is not carefully applied. Experience is the indispensable raw material of expe-riential learning. But it remains unprocessed--that is, raw material-- without the equally important process of reflecting on the experience. The danger is effectively obviated when serious effort an~d sufficient time are devoted to dwelling on the experience in such a way that ideas and principles are abstracted out of it and feelings are symbolized. In addition'to serious reflection, there is a further requirement of ef-fective praxis. To be used intelligently, experiential learning must be grounded in a well-thought-out theory of experience. As John Dewey warned in 1938, "The belief that all genuine education comes about through experience does not mean that all experiences are genuinely or equally educative. Experience and education cannot be directly equated to each other."zz Mere insisten~ze on the necessity of experience, there-fore, is notenough. In Dewey's words, "Everything depends on the qual~ ity of the experience which is had."z3 Therefore, to use the experiential mode of learning in the novitiate effectively,formatores must ensure (!) that the quality of the learning experiences engaged in by novices be se-riously evaluated and (2)that the novices, with the assistance of a skilled facilitator, give sufficient time and attention to follow-up reflection on their experiences. The Ongoing Process of Individuation The third major aspect of novitiate formation calls for the ongoing fostering of the personal growth of candidates. While the agenda of the receiving community is stressed in the process of religious socialization, the individuation process respects the agenda of persons in their individ-ual growth process. Since it is the case, more and more, that candidates enter the novitiate at such diverse ages and at such different points of p.er-sonal development, novitiate formation must seriously recognize individ-ual differences and aid individuals to move ahead, not regress, in the de-velopment of their selfhood. After all, the ability to give of oneself in self-donation presupposes that one first possesses a self. According to Carl Jung, the process of individuation is a gradual growth toward whole-ness and harmony, involving the progressive differentiation and detailed development of all parts of the human personality. Since individuation is a lifelong project, entry into religious life cannot halt its progress with-out stunting the healthy maturation and development of religious as hu-man beings. 6"/6 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 Since Vatican II, religious have been strongly ehcouraged to take con-tinuhl human growth seriously and to take care that their commitment to religious life does not impede their prior responsibility as human beings to a~tualize their God-gi~,en potential. In the eyes of an increasing num-ber of c,~ontemporary theologians, the motivation for continuous human growth is clearly a religious one. Human life'is seen as a gift fr6m the Fi~ther. At the same time, God couples the gi~ft of life with a challenge to person~s to be cocreatorsof their lives, freely fashioning their lives into "something beautiful for God." In this ongoing process of human de-velopment,~ the Lord of creation and the human works Of his hand col-laborate. Therefore, for the person who seeks to respond to God's in-itiative, a commitment to continuous growth'is not only a choice, but requirement. To deny the inner impulse t.oward continuous growth is tan-tamount to not responding to God, because, in the words of Gregory Baum, "as d.estiny, as summons, as love., God is present in man's mak-ing of man."~-4 John Haughey, S.J., states that the refusal to take seri-ously one's vocation to be a cocreator with God also takes on a moral dimension. When the refusal to choose leaves the work of God's hands unfinished, then this peculiar kind of inaction takes on a moral dimension. Why.'? Because the unique way of manifesting some aspect of the fullness of God that every person is born to manifest remains potency. Refusal to come to the point of decision, choice, or commitment can leave some-thing of creation itself unfinished and hence God's glory incomplete. This constitutes evil at the level of:being itself. An individual thwarts the purpose of God's creating him by refusing to exercise the cocreator-ship that he could exercise. That which is called forth by God is ren-dered void by man.25 Consequently, religious life and novitiate formation must reinforce among no'vices the importance of continuing their commitment to the proc-ess of individuation as they are simultaneously socialized into the group. Growth in spiritual maturity depends heavily on integral human devel-opment. This truth has long been captured in the Scholastic adage that "grace builds on nature." Leo P. Rock, S.J., a former novice director, applied this truth 'to novitiate formation in a pithy way: "Grace does not substitute for nature, but fulfills it. Healthy, sane personality develop-ment is the most fertile soil in which grace can take root and grow. Growth in religious life can best happen in the situation which best fos-ters personal human growth.''26 The following considerations may be helpful toformatores as they consider how to best foster such prerequi- Novitiate Formation / 677 site human growth in the novitiate: The Developmental Nature of Human Growth Human growth takes place in stages, with each stage presupposing and building on preceding ones. As deveiopmentalists put it, these stages are. invariantly sequential. A person cannot, for example, go from stage one to stage four by skipping the intervening stages. This principle thus requires t~at every individual novice be met where he or she is on enter-ing the novitiate, and then helped to proceed ~forward, stage by stage, from tha.t personal starting point. This is especially important because per-sons entering religion today .vary so much in age, background, and de-velopment. An undifferentiated treatment of novices would prove to be an unenlightened and eventually frustrating appr6ach. Another key consideratibn is that, as a Jesuit formation document puts it, "human development does not proceed at the same pace in eve-ryone." z7 This fact calls for adaptation of the process to individuals. Therefore, in. fostering growth in the novitiate, it seems important that the focus be kept on the individual and the particular~areas of his or her life that stand most ready for development at any particular time. Force-feeding of any kind not only risks dging violence to people, but will ul-timately be countbrproductive in leading to any kind of significant, long-term learning. Personal Responsibility and Religious Obedience The renewal of religious life since Vatican II has certainly challenged men and women to understand and qive the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience in ways that do not impede personal maturity and psycho-logical health. Twenty years ago Jesuit John Courtney Murray spelled out this challenge in a talk to fellow Jesuits. He warned that religious obedience poses a real danger to personal maturity if it fosters the abdi-cation of personal responsibility for one's life and choices. Obedience is a perilous"path to personal maturity, according to Murray. This is be-cause the vow of obedience, if poorly lived out, produces people "who to a degree are purposeless, their lives not consciously and strongly pat-terned, not inwardly directed toward a determined goal with all the or-ganized power of the whole self.' ,28 Religious can succumb to the trap posed by obedience by being pas-sive and overly submissive to authority figures in order to gain accep-tance and approval or to enjoy a kind of infantile dependence free from the anguish of personal decision-making. Those who manifest these and othe'r forms of immature behavior often rationalize their way of acting Review for Religious, September-October 1988 in spiritual terms, thus disguising and denying what they~ are actually do-ing. When they say that they "just want to follow God's or the supe-rior's will," it is sometimes simply a rationalization to justify their to take responsibility for themselves.29 This becomes obvious when the superior clearly has no strong feelings or particular preference about wfiat should happen and in fact would like the religious to assume some independent initiative and to indicate a clear preference. Realizing this threat to maturity, ihe document on Jesuit formation makes clear that "the more the noviceg are stimulated to assume respon-sibilities with prudent and discerning charity, the more successfully will .they acquire Spiritual maturity and the more freely will they adhere their vocation."3° A correlative document on Jesuit obedience states that mature obedience is unattainable apart from the constant cultivation a spirit of initiative and responsibility.3~ A Discernment Model to Develop Responsible~Obedience To foster personal responsibility within the framework of religious obedience, I have used the following eight-step model to teach novices a way of practicing dis~zernment: Step 1" Identify the decision to be made or tl~e issu~ to be resolved. Step 2: Examine the underlying values or concerns (human, Chris-tian, religious, and Jesuit) involved. Step 3: Take time to pray over the matter, paying attention to how one is being drawn or led in prayer. Step 4: Discuss the matter with a spiritual director. Step 5: Dialogue with the superior and engage in a mutual search for God's will in the matter. Step 6: Strive for a state of lgnatian "indifference," that is, a state of inner freedom and equipoise which allows one to accept whatever decision or resolution would be for God's greater glory. If a person is unable to achieve "indifference," discussing the matter in spiritual direction can bring valuable self-knowledge and clarity about how best to proceed in the search for God's will. Perhaps, more prayer and dia-logue with the superior regarding conflicting values and perspectives may be needed before a peaceful closure and decision can be arrived at. Step_ 7: Accept the superior's decision with ,trust in God's. provi-dence at work within the dynamics of religious obedience. Step 8: Stay open to the emerging data of ongoing experience to check for confirmation. In a study of lgnatian obedience, John Futrell, Novitiate Formation / 679 S.J., states that "the principal means of confirmation of the decisions of the superior., are the mutual contentment of himself and his com-panion and the proof of living experience.' ,32 If there is serious doubt "that the superior's decision truly reflects God's will, the process of ,prayer, consultation, and dialogue must begin again. This discernment process promotes personal responsibility and growth because it requires the full engagement of the novices. In com-ing to a decision, they must work with.their religious superior, rather than have things fully decided or resolved for them from above. Step I requires them to invest in the process of defining the parameters of the issue from their personal point of view. Step 2 involves a process of val-ues clarification in which they state the values that are at stake in the de-cision. Steps 3 and 4 give them the chance to critique these values, both alone in prayer and together with a spiritual director. Steps 2, 3, and 4 press them to ask an important twofold question: "Am I free to pursue my values.'?" and "Are my values worth the pursuit?" By requiring them to come to some kind of tentative stance or decision before dialogu-ing with the superior, these steps promote their sense of selfhood, which is largely shaped in the process of personal decision-making. Finally, if attained, the spiritual attitude of Ignatian indifference provides them with the inner freedom which guarantees that their act of autonomous choice can be integrated with religious obedience. For, in the end, indifference allows them to accept whatever is decided with a sense of adult respon-sibility and commitment to the way of evangelical obedience. Summary Reflections Before ma~king a concluding recommendation, it might be helpful to summarize what has been proposed here: I. Adaptations in novitiate formation must always be guided by the three, essential goals of the novitiate: vocation discernment, religious so-cialization, and ongoing individuation. 2. Novitiate formation as it relates to vocation discernment must be seen as a positive aid concerned with the confirmation of a call, rather /han as a negative process of "weeding out" candidates. The process of election monitors the will of God being expressed in the heart's deep-est desires, and the process of existential confirmation searches for the will of God manifested in the concrete circumstances of one's life. 3. Novitiate formation as it relates to religious socialization is the proc-ess by which a religious community receives new members and bonds them to the community's past and present by (a) sharing with them its tradition, spirituality, mores, and "habits of the heart" and (b)welcom- 680 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 ing them to its current fellowship and ministries. 4. Novitiate formation as it relates to ongoing individuation is the process by which the, personal growth and development .of individual nov-ices are fostered, even as the novices are being socialized into the com-munity. Towards this end the novitiate attempts to promote individual initiative and personal responsibility within the context of religious obe-dience. In light of what has been proposed above, I recommend-~that, wher-ever and whenever possible, communities with small numbers of nov-ices (for example, five or fewer) join together with,other compatible groups ~to form a larger formation community, Examples of compatible groups might be novices of different provinces of the same religious or-der (for example, an interprovinciai Jesuit or Dominican novitiate) o con-gregations with the same founding spirit (for example, Franciscans, Bene-dictines, Mercy Sisters, St. Joseph Sisters). In my opinion, the goals of religious socialization are. better accomplished in larger groupings and are very difficult to achieve with just two or three novices ~ibsorbed into a regular apostolic house. This is especially true of the liminoid phase of religious socializa-tion, which relies heavily on an experience of community. During period, novices are meant to acquire the religious values,mores, and spiri-tuality of the group by experiencing daily life in a vibrant community, whose central ministry is the socializing of novices into religious This regrouping for the sake of forming larger formatiow communities can be on a full-time or part-time basis. A very successful example a full-time merger has been Loyola House in Berkley, Michigan, which houses the joint Jesuit novitiate program of the Chicago and Detroit prov-inces. Part-time collaborative programs have taken various forms. For example, for two straight years the Jesuit novices of the California and Oregon provinces joined together for two months to experience the Ig-natian Exercises together. Last year three Jesuit novitiates'pooled their resources and spent five weeks together to study the history of the or-der. Another example of such successful collaboration is the intercom-munity novitiate experience in such places as Los Angeles and Denver. Large and autonomous formation communities can provide S'everal very important dimensions of novitiate training that communities of or two novices cannot provide. Briefly, they are the following: Peer formation. In my experience, peer formation is an important as-pect of religious socialization, As novices experience together the dif-ferent aspects of religious life and share theirjfaith and religious experi- Novitiate Formation / 681 ences with each other, they are supported and "edified," in the best sense of the word. Spiritual conversation among novices regarding the story of their vocation, their experience in prayer and ministry, their strug-gles with the vows and with community living can provide much needed support and insight. Liturgical formation. Larger, autonomous novitiate communities are more likely to have a well-planned, coordinated liturgical life, which can be very important in the spiritual formation of novices. When there are only two or three novices living together, chances are that there will be no orga0ized liturgical life in the community. Instead, the novices may merely join in a convenient parish liturgy. When this occurs, the peda-gogical function of liturgy within formation is greatly diminished. Staffing and programmatic advantages. Because of the growing short-age of active members in practically every religious community in the United States, the search for qualified personnel for the various apostolic works of a community often invites a subtle competition among the vari-ous ministries. As a result, there is a danger that novitiate formation will get short shrift because of the very small number of novices being min-istered to. A larger group of novices in some kind of interprovincial ar-rangement would provide a stronger claim for greater investment by the community (a) in qualified formation personnel whose work is given full-time status and assured of some continuity and (b) in some regular and relatively fixed program of instruction for the training of novices. With-out this kind of investment, it is hard to expect that a person asked to be a part-time novice director for one or two years will devote the time and energy needed to understand the complex process of novitiate for-mation and to develop the skills and knowledge needed to do a good job. When left to function on their own, communities with just a trickle of novices tend to create a makeshift, ad hoc arrangement to handle the for-mation of the few. It seems that having several ongoing, large-group, com-mon novitiate programs which could accommodate novices from vari-ous communities that share the same charism or spirit of a founder would be helpful for meeting the need created by the drastic drop in recent years. None of this would be complete without a word about the inherent, not to say mind-boggling, paradox of religious life and growth. While we are called upon to use all of the knowledge and expertise at our dis-posal, it is the Holy Spirit who effects growth, who gives life, and whose gifts shape the soul--a Spirit who, much to the surprise, despair, and con-fusion of our best-made plans, still blows where it will. This does not Review for Religious, September-October 1988 relieve us of the responsibility of bringing what expertise we can muster to fostering human, spiritual growth. But it reminds us that it is the Holy Spirit, whose ways transcend all our human expertise and wisdom, often confounding them, who effects and shapes the growth we hope to facili-tate. NOTES ~ See Gerald A. Arbuckle, S.M., "Planning the Novitiate Process: Reflections of an Anthro.pologist," in REVIEW FOR REL~6~Ot~S (July/August 1984): 532-546. , 2 Ibid., 15.~ 532. ~' 3 Ann and Barry Ulanov, Primary Speech: A Psychology of Prayer (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1982), p. 20. '* Annotation # I, The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, translated by Louis J. Puhl, S.J. (Chicago: Loyola Upiversity Press, 1951). 5 Michael J. Buckley, S.J., "Final Vows in the Society of Jesus," in National Jes-uit News, vol. 10, no. 7, April 1981, p. 8. 6 Ibid., p. 9. 7 Ibid., p. 8. 8 Michael J. Buckley, S.J., "The Priesthood as a Religious Event," in The Berkeley Jesuit, spring 1970, p. 7. 9 "In all selection and testing of seminarians, necessary standards must always be firmly maintained, even when there exists a regrettable shortage of priests. For God will not allow his Church to lack ministers if worthy candidates are admitted while unsuitable ones are speedily and paternally directed towards the assuming of other tasks and are encouraged to take up the lay apostolate readily, in a consciousness of their Christian vocation." Paragraph 6, Decree on Priestly Formation (Optatam Totius), in The Documents of Vatican !I, ed. Walter Abbott, S.J. (New York: Amer-ica Press, 1966). ~0 John Westerhoff III and Gwen K. Neville, Generation to Generation: Conversa-tions on Religious Education and Culture (Philadelphia: United Church Press, 1974), p. 41. ~ Nos. 138-140, "The Spiritual Formation of Jesuits," in Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus (St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1977), pp. I I 1-113. See also no. 23, "Companions of Jesus Se~nt into Today's World," Decree # I, Documents of the 33rd General Congregation of the Society of Jesus (St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1984), p. 50. ~2 Quoted in Robert N. Bellah et al., Habits of the Heart: Individualism and Com-mitment in American Life (San Francisco: Harper & Row, Publishers, 1986), p. 37. ~3 Arbuckle, op. cit., pp. 540-545. ~': Ibid., p. 540. ~5 Ibid. ~6 Quoted ibid., pp. 542-543. t7 No. 22, Decree 8, "The Spiritual Formation of Jesuits," Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus, p. 104. Is Ibid., no. 19, p. 103. 19 For an explanation of how praxis or experiential learning is applied to prayer, see my "Teach Us to Pray," in Company: A Magazine of the American Jesuits, vol. Novitiate Formation / 683 I, no. 3, April 1984, pp. 8-10. 2o For a discussion of the experience/reflection dynamic in learning about interper-sonal relationships, see my "Particular Friendships Revisited," in Human Devel-opment, vol. 7, no. I, spring 1986, pp. 34-38. 2~ Decree I, -#40, Documents of the 33rd General Congregation of the Society of Jesus. 22 John Dewey, Experience and Education (London: Collier-MacMillan Company, 1938), p. 25. 23 Ibid., p. 27 (emphasis in the original). 24 Gregory Baum, "Reply and Explanation," in Ecumenist, vol. 9, Nov.-Dec. 1970- Jan.-Feb. ! 971, p. 18. z5 John Haughey, S.J., Should Anyone Say Forever: On Making, Keeping, and Break-ing Commitments (Garden City, New York: Doubleday, 1975), pp. 23-24. 26 Leo lb. Rock, S.J., "The California Province Novitiate: What We Do and Why," an unpublished paper, September 1973, p. 4. 27 No. 24, Decree 8, "The Spiritual Formation of Jesuits," Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus, p. 105. 28 John Courtney Murray, S.J., " The Danger of the Vows," in Woodstock Letters, fall 1967~, p~ 42 I. 29 For a discussion of obstacles to mature religious obedience, see my "Dealing with Projection: Recognizing and Removing a Common Obstacle to Mature Religious Obe-dience," in Human Development, vol. 6, no. I, spring 1985, pp. 6-1 I. 30 No. 23, Decree 8, " The Spiritual Formation," in Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus, p. 105. 31 Nos. II and 12, Decree 17, "The Life of Obedience." Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus, pp. 164-166. 32 John C. Futrell, S.J., Making an Apostolic Community of Love: The Role of the 'Superior According to St. Ignatius of Loyola (St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1970), p. 143. Some Thoughts on the Vocation to Celibacy Clifford Stevens Father Stevens has been, over the course of many years, a Trappist, a parish priest, an Air Force chaplain, an editor of The Priest, and a small-town pastor. He has pub-lished a novel, Flame Out of Dorset, about St. Stephen Harding, twelfth-century Cis-tercian. Last appearing in our pages in 1986, he writes from the monaste(y he founded: Tintern; Monastery Road; Oakdale, Nebraska 68761. The very foundation of the vocation to celibacy must be the complete free-dom from compulsion with which the choice of celibacy is made. Free-dom from external compulsion, in that no one can be forced by external pressures to choose the celibate vocation, and freedom from internal pres-sures, ascetic, moral, spiritual, which would make the choice of celibacy anything but a conscious, free choice, based on something within the vo-cation to celibacy itself. The choice of celibacy is not a rejection or de-nial of the excellence of marriage. ~ It is rather an affirmation of realities that transcend sexuality and marriage.2 This "anthropological" base of the choice of celibacy is a critical factor in celibate happiness, and that celibate happiness is based precisely on the facts that [ could find happiness in marriage, that in choosing celi-bacy3 ! am just as free to choose marriage, and that marriage has a good-ness and nobility all its own. There is a profound reason for this complete freedom from compul-sion based on the specific excellence of celibacy itself, and not in com-parison with something else. The profound reason is this. The gift of sexuality and its directedness toward intimate expression'~ in marriage comes, with our very creation, from God's goodness, his wis-dom, and his benevolence. It is an integral part of our humanity and our 684 Thoughts on Celibacy masculinity, and no power on earth can deprive us of it because it comes with the~very blueprint of our nature. (This article looks at celibacy from a masculine point of view, not because the feminine viewpoint is not im-portant, but becduse it is outside the author's experience.) The ,gift of sexuality, in fact, is the root reality of our bodily exis-tence and of our masculine nature, and has a power and a goodness that enriches human life immeasurably. However we want to describe it, you and I, men endowed with all the gifts of a masculine nature, are shaped and fashioned by every ripple and nuance of our living flesh for physi-cal intimacy with a woman. To hide this from ourselves in the name of celibacy would rob the choice of celibacy of half its meaning. The choice of celibacy can never be based upon a denial or ignoring of the inherent goodness of sexuality or the preeminent goodness of sex-ual intimacy in marriage,s Moreover, it is possible to possess one's sexu-ality in this full awareness of its essential goodness, in complete inno-cence, with a wholesome sense of dignity, freedom, wonder, apd joy in its possession and, with the same complete innocence, to look forward to and experience its joyous expression in marriage; or, if one is a celi-bate, to be profoundly appreciative of its joyous expression in marriage, with the same complete innocence.6 The choice of celibacy is not based upon a lack of appreciation for sexual intimacy in marriage or upon any conviction that the experience of marriage is in any way displeasing to God. These are simply unsound anthropological bases upon which to build a vocation to celibacy and, unwittingly, they can plant deep in.the recesses of one's motivation a time bomb ready to go off. It is unfortunate that in the history of Christian spirituality the voca-tion to celibacy has often been explained in terms that denigrate the value and beauty of sexual love in marriage. The impression is given that the choice of celibacy is somehow a flight from something radically unspir-itual and that the celibate looks upon conjugal intimacy as something be-neath his dignity, something that would mar his perfect purity. The choice of celibacy, if it is genuine, has nothing of this motivation about it, but is based solidly and squarely upon something more positive and something more exhilarating. Celibacy must be based on a profound appreciation for the gift of sex-ual intimacy as personal gift and endowment from God and as an inte-gral part of one's masculine inheritance. Nobility of soul does not fail to plumb and to appreciate the riches of masculine possibility which is the natural inheritance of an awakened and full manhood. Review for Religious, September-October 1988 This possibility, with all its splendor and enrichment, does not ex-haust the human possibility, but it does enshrine some of its noblest in-stincts, of the feelings and of the mind, and an intimacy that mirrors the very passion of God himself. As a celibate I set aside intimacy with a woman, with all its rooms of joy and beauty, only for a greater intimacy and its even more won-drous rooms of beauty, and its universe of joy. But in doing so, I will not deny the power, the significance, or the magnitude of the masculine expectancy that I set aside and turn away from. This intimacy, by what-ever name it is called, is riveted into my very flesh; the lineaments of this passionate preoccupation are traced and interlaced in the warp and woof of my very biology. The gift of manhood with all its passionate possibilities is one of the richest gifts of God. I set it aside freely, not with no appreciation for its beauty, and not with regret, but because I have stumbled on a greater beauty, a more powerful intimacy, and a more earth-shaking encounter. In the shadow of that intimacy and in the tremor of this expectancy, every other human possibility fades into insignificance. I do not hide from myself the shattering loveliness and singular beauty of the sexual intimacy that could be mine, but celibacy reaches out to something greater, fully as rich, fully as valid, and as fully a com-plement to my manhood as the rich experience of love in marriage. This is the sound anthropological base upon which the vocation to celibacy is founded. It may not be part of one's original motivation since, in the beginnings of a vocation, you are simply too busy and too taken up with the excitement of a new direction to reflect upon every element of your motivation. But ultimately what is implicit in your choice must be made explicit by thought, reflection, and personal exploration, and there must not be in the root motivation of celibacy anything resembling spiritual or moral snobbery or looking down on marriage. The choice of celibacy must be based upon some excellence in the vocation of celibacy itself, and not in mere comparison with something else. Only then can the specific excellence of the vocation to celibacy become part of your own life,~and--I am sure I do not have to repeat--thespecific excellence of celibacy is not the fact that you do not have a woman in your life or that you sleep alone. This is a necessary condition, but if that is all that celibacy means to you, you could end up being the most miserable of men, deprived of the crowning act of your masculine nature, the finest and noblest expression of your manhood, with nothing to take its place. That would be a deprivation of singular magnitude. Thoughts on Celibacy And this is something that we should never forget: As celibates we deprive ourselves of this crowning act of our masculine nature, the fin-est and most genuine expression of our masculinity that is sexual inti-macy in marriage. If that terrifying vacuum were not filled with some-thing that touched with joy the very roots of our manhood, the dep-rivation and emptiness would be almost too much to bear. This is one of the consequences of celibacy that has not often been touched upon, but it certainly explains some of the strange aberrations of clerical and religious life and some of the tragic consequences of an ill-motivated and immature commitment to celibacy. One of the major problems in the vocation to celibacy is that many celibates have not through deep personal reflection made explicit in their own minds what was implicit in their choice of celibacy and have ac-cepted, quite uncritically, an evaluation of sexuality in general, and of their own sexuality in particular, that is based on tenets of a Neoplaton-ist and Stoic anthropology embodied in an older type of spirituality. This evaluation notonly placed no value upon sexuality itself, but tended to denigrate as totally unworthy of the spiritual person the inti-mate expression of sexuality in marriage, thus negating the very mean-ing of sexuality and placing a negative judgment on the very possession of one's sexuality. Really, it all starts and ends there: What evaluation and judgment do you place upon the intimate expression of sexuality in marriage? If that judgment is a negative one, you can never really be com-fortable in the possession of your own sexuality. The true Christian evaluation of sexual intimacy in marriage, based upon the vision of sexual love embodied in the Christian revelation it-self, is that the intimate expression of sexual love in marriage is (i) the crowning act (in fa~zt, the primary and unique act) of one's manhood, (2) the finest, noblest, and most genuine expression of one's masculinity, (3) the unique expression of love between a man and a woman, (4) God's crowning gift to one's bodily existence, and (5) the gr,eatest earthly gift that God has given to the human race. This is implicit in the very choice of celibacy, even though that evalu-ation may not have been part of the conscious motivation when the choice of celibacy was made. Historically, the negative sexual tenets we have mentioned are part of a North African phenomenon that included Neoplatonism in Alexan-dria, the monastic movement in the same area, the spirituality of Eva-grius Ponticus, Tertullian, and St. Augustine (and the ascetic movement in the West), and the monastic spirituality of John Cassian, who reflected Review for Religious, September-October 1988 in his writings the sexual anthropology of the Alexandrian monastic move-ment. A healthier anthropology can be found in the robust passion for life in the classical Greek tradition, reflected in the best of Plato and the monu-mental work of Aristotle, later embodied in the Spirituality of the Greek Fathers and in the philosophical achievements of Saints Albertus Mag, nus and Thomas Aquinas. That anthropology recognized the inherent goodness of our senses and our sense life, the inherent goodness of hu-man sexuality, and the innate and preeminent goodness of the intimate expression of sex in marriage. This view, however, was never embod-ied in "traditional" spirituality and had little influence on spiritual doc-trine. The work of Aquinas, however, bore fruit in many areas over the cen-turies even though some of his basic tenets were condemned by an older "Augustinian" sChool soon after his death in 1274. In the documents of the Second Vatican Council, particularly, Gaudium et.Spes, the Aqui. nas view was recovered, and we have in the council documents a posi-tive and wholesome anthropology of sexuality7 which should have a pro-found influence on future spirituality. NOTES ~ "Students should have a proper knowledge of the duties and dignity of Christian marriage, which represents the love.that exists between Christ and the Church." Op-tatam Totius, Decree on the Training of Priests of the Second Vatican Council, ed. by Austin Flannery, 0.P~., no., 10, p. 715. 2 "They should recognize the greater excellence of virginity consecrated to Christ, however, so that they may offer themselves to the Lord with fully deliberate and gen-erous choice, and a complete surrender of body and soul." ibid. 3 Celibacy seeks, on the basis of personal:experience and personal judgment, a con~ tinual intimacy with God and with divine things; it provides that personal solitude without which, for this p_articular individual, such continual intimacy with God would be impossible or unlikely. Celibacy is not chosen because there is any value in mere sexual deprivation, but because it is a natural step towards a lifestyle totally or domi-nantly preoccupied with the eternal and the divine. Celibacy bears witness in one's own person to the eternal dimension, to the reality and significance of the eternal in human life. '~ For the purpose of this article, sexuality and sexual intima~3, have these meanings: Sexuality is a gift of God that comes with the act of creation, a personal endowment that should be borne with a certain masculine dignity and yet worn joyfully~ and lightly. Our sexuality is inherent'ly good, and so, too, is the intimacy with a wdman to which it leads. Sexual intimacy is a gift of God that comes with the very blueprint of our nature, Thoughts on Celibacy in the sense that the pattern of that intimacy is molded into our very bodies. Sexual intimacy is part of our human and masculine inheritance, and its expression in mar-riage the very crown of masculinity and femininity. But while sexual intimacy is a gift to our person and our nature, its expression is meant to be embodied in a personal choice based on love, embedded in the marriage covenant, and to be the setting and inexhaustible source of the deepest human hap-piness. Sexual intimacy comes with our nature and our personhood. It is the living expres-sion of the noblest human love and is itself the image and mirror of God's own love for human beings. By celibacy we freely deprive ourselves of this most enriching gift,'this crown of our masculinity, for the simple reason that we, called by God, have other plans for ourselves. 5 The nature of the vocation to celibacy is not a denial of the inherent goodness and sublimity of married love, but an affirmation, the affirmation of something beyond the sexual and beyond the earthly, the affirmation of another relationship and the cul-tivation of that relationship as the main occupation of one's life. Celibacy is a dep-rivation, but it is a freely chosen deprivation of something seen to be part of one's own human inheritance and something preeminently good. St. Thomas links celi-bacy to the virtue of magnificence, a certain exuberance in living, a bursting of the bonds of the ordinary to reach out to the extraordinary. It is based on a hunger for the eternal and for an intimacy as real and as stunning as the intimacy of man and woman in marriage. See Josef Pieper, The Four Cardinal Virtues (University of Notre Dame Press, 1966), pp. 145-180.' 6 Celibacy is part of the virtue of sophrosyne, touched upon in Aristotle's Ethics, with a fuller treatment in the Summa Theologiae of St. Thomas Aquinas. The object of sophrosyne is the body, and those things that are of the body (soma, somatos). There are several levels or kinds of sophrosyne: (I) joy and pride in bodily being itself (simple sophrosyne), (2) joy and pride in bodily well-being (dignity), (3) joy and pride in bodily senses (liveliness), (4)joy and pride

Issue 39.4 of the Review for Religious, July 1980. ; REVIEW FOR REt.t(;tOt~S (ISSN 0034-639X), published bi-monthly (every two months), is edited in collabo~:ation with faculty members of the Department of Theology of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located tit Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis, MO 63108. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri, © 1980. By REVIEW FOR RELI(;IOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid tit St. Louis. Missouri. Single copies: $2.00. Subscription U.S.A.: $8.00 a year: $15.00 for two years. Other countries: $9.(10 a yeur, $17.(111 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write REv~-:w ~:OR REL~;~OUS: P.O. Box 6070: I)uluth, Minnesota 55802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor July, 1980 Volume 39 Number 4 Correspondence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REW~:W ~'OR R~:tAc~otJs; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19131. "Out of print" issues and articles not re-issued as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 North Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Journey into Christ James M. Deschene, O.S.B. Brother James' last article, "On Monastic Sexuality," appeared in the issue of November, 1979. He has recently been transferred to Christ of the Hills Monastery; P. O. Box 32849; Nimitz Station; San Antonio, TX 78216. A monk is a man of mystery. He is a mystery partly, though least importantly, because in our day and age he is little seen, little understood. He seems to be a romantic anachronism living out some medieval dream. To the outsider, monasteries are mysterious places and the monks within are always curiosities. Those who visit the monastery expect to find, in the words of Saint Athanasius written centuries ago, "an altogether different country, cut off from the rest of the world, and the inhabitants of that country have no thought than to live in love and justice." There is, however, a larger sense in which the monk is a man of mystery. For it is the monk, more than other men, who plunges his whole life into the very depths of the human adventure, into depths where the human adventure is discovered to be a response to a mysterious divine call. In that secret place, in the very heart of our being, a Voice, full of quiet power, speaks: 1 love you. Before the world was made, before the firsl tick of time, I loved you. I have made you for myself because I love you. And wh.en the universe lies cold and lifeless, I will love you still. Come, my beloved one. Walk with me. Give me your heart. To hear those words uttered in the stillness of our hearts is to know real ter-ror. For, like any human love, they demand of us a commitment of our very being. Yet unlike human love, their demand on us is an infinite one. We are asked to surrender ourselves utterly into those divine hands, to withhold nothing. We are afraid of such a love: 481 482 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 For, though I knew His Love Who followed, Yet was I sore adread Lest, having Him, I must have naught beside. (Francis Thompson, The Hound of Heaven) In the face of this demand it is easy to see why we flee from God into busy-ness, noise, distraction. Who of us can bear to be so loved? Or to offer such a love in return? Yet this love and this demand are at the very heart of our religion. God is love. And as hard as that is to believe, many find it even harder to believe that this God, this Love, loves them--infinitely (for God can do no less). This is a love that asks us to die to everything but itself, to be willing to abandon every possession, every security, every earthly thing and to leap into the dark from which God calls to us. From this darkness, from this call, from this unspeakably demanding love, we try to escape and flee. The monk does not. And insofar as man's final rest and fulfillment lie solely in God, the monk stands before us as a challenge and a sign of what we truly are and of where our lives will truly find their ending: in utter abandon-ment to the love of God. Both the Christian monk and the ordinary Christian are called to the same high and mysterious destiny. When Christ orders us to follow the narrow path, he addresses himself to all men. The monk and the lay person must attain the same heights. (St. John Chrysostom, In Epist. ad Haebraos) The monk is different in that he commits himself to this goal single-heartedly and in deadly earnest, surrendering all that might hinder the search. He who hears the voice of God must recognize that he is called to an' adventure whose ending he cannot foresee because it is in the hands of God. That is the risk and the challenge of the monastic calling: we surrender our lives into the hands of God and never take them back. (Thomas Merton, Cistercian Life) The monk is willing to suffer the loss of all things, if only Christ be gained (Ph 3:8). All the details of his life are simplified, streamlined, so that he lives with a clarity and single-mindedness often missing from the lives of other men and women. The monk is called to be the unified, integrated man whose life is centered on one thing only-- the love and service of God. And yet, for all this, we must not see the monk as special or basically different from others. Rather, he is a sign, a kind of sacrament or incarnation, of every person's specialness and vocation--to seek the God in whom alone the human heart finds rest, life and joy. You have made us for yourself, Lord. And our hearts will find no rest until they rest in you. (Saint Augustine, Confessions) The monk is also a man of despair. By being utterly honest with himself, he has come to admit the hopelessness of what the world calls good--the illu-sions, the emp.ty materialism--and knows in his heart that these values can bring no one to God, but often aid a man in hiding from the demands of the Journey into Christ infinite Lover. Yet this despair for the monk is a salutary despair, for it enables him to discard these conventional and false values and to put in their place the only true values--love, mercy, justice, peace, joy. So the monk withdraws from the city into the desert, the wilderness. He becomes an outlaw, a stranger. Yet his apartness and withdrawal are, paradoxically, signs of his deep loyalty to the family of man. In refusing to live by the values that demean human beings, the monk affirms in himself and for his brothers and sisters the true value of men and women in God's sight. Out of love for his brothers and sisters, the monk will not consent toa life that enslaves in falseness and futility. Here too the monk enters upona~mystery. For he enters a way he does not know, a journey without maps, a, land untraveled by most men and women, an uncharted wilderness. Like the Chosen People of old, he is called and led by God deeper and deeper into this unknown country. Gone are all the familiar contours of the human landscape and social life. Gone are the secur-ity and assurance of old and comfortablehabits of life. There remains in that dry desert air only the single Voice that calls one onward: "Come, my beloved one. Walk with me. Give me your heart." . Abandoning all to follow that call, the monk advances on his journey without maps. He is a fool to do so,'but he is a fool for Christ's sake; and like his Master, he confounds the wisdom of theworld by living out the wisdom of God. Seeing the monk's foolishness,- men ask: "What is the use of all this?" And the monk can give no answer. His way is not essentially a way of profit or usefulness or productivity. His life is, in the eyes of the world, a pointless one. The world never ceases to be amazed at this, and so it asks again: "What is the point of all this?" Again the monk is silent. Silence is his message. The question has been asked; that is point enough. The monk has proclaimed by his very presence the absurdity of a world apart from Ctirist. So long asa single monk lives,men will have a reason to question the ways and values of their world. Wars, revolutions, social, political ahd economic upheavals are~the tools the world uses to bring about change, Against all these the monk proclaims by his life the one-power that can healand change the world--transfiguration through love and grace. And this always happens in secret, in silence, in the d.epths where man meets God inqove. Then and there is the wounded human heart filled with healing, joy and peace, which are the monk's final gifts to suffering humanity. By surrendering himself, he has been healed, and through him flow into the world the gifts the world has ever sought but rarely found. Healing, joy, peacemthe gifts of Christ. They may be had only by a sur-render to Christ's love, by a death to all things that would separate one from his love. The monk reminds us of this. If the monk is to "reestablish all things in Christ," he must be ready to disestablish all 41~4 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 things in himself. Like Christ, he must empty himself, becoming obedient unto death. (Hubert van Zeller, The Holy Rule) Obedience. Death. Harsh and fearful realities for modern man. The monk, like Christ, is a man of obedience unto death. He seeks to be admitted, in love, to the heart of the mystery of the suffering Christ and to become one with that sacrifice whereby the whole world is made a new creation. He goes through death with Christ to rise in the dewy morning of a world recreated in the risen Lord. Only through obedience and death can the gifts of the new creation--joy, healing, peace--be brought to man. Our own baptism showed us this, as we were plunged into the mystery of Christ's death so we might rise with him in his new life. The monk is a living sign of baptism. In his own transfiguration through grace, having become a wholly new creature, the monk brings back into our struggling world the freshness and innocence of Eden. The monk is also a sign ol~ the end, of the coming kingdom. "Thy kingdom come," we pray, dreading that our prayer might be answered. For the kingdom (we know) will mean the end of all our petty security, our dishonesties, our comfortable habits. In the monk we see a sign of this coming kingdom. Yet in him we see too that the end, though it will be an utter catastrophe for our old ways, will finally be a deep and gracious blessing, fill~ ing our lifelong emptiness with the gifts of healing, joy and love. In the monk God gives us a living sign of this hope, a sign that Christ has already overcome the world: Easter has happened, the power of death has been vanquished, and all our fears are groundless. All that thy child's mistake Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home; Rise, clasp my hand, and come! (The Hound of Heaven) We see too in the monastery itself--in this community of brothers gathered in love and mutual service, and centered and grounded in Christ--a sign of the coming kingdom. In the sonship of the monks and the fatherhood of the abbot, all gathered in loving fellowship, we catch glimmerings of the m'ystery of the Trinity of Father, Son and Spirit. In the monastic Church, microcosm of the universal Church, with the monks gathered in Eucharist about the altar, we have a living sign of the Body of Christ, And in the fidelity of the monks to liturgical and contemplative prayer, we can discover anew that the worship and praise of God is the final destiny of man. For worship--"With my body I thee worship"--is but another word for love. The monk is indeed a man of mystery and of mysteries--mysteries of ¯ vocation, of surrender, of suffering; of obedience, of death, of resurrection; of the kingdom and of the Trinity. Perhaps most simply, though, he is a sign of the mystery of love which is the deep mystery of God. In our days, as always, rfien and women need signs of the mystery of God at work in their hearts. We need to hear the message of the monks among us: Journey into Christ / 485 as unknown yet well known, as ever at death's door, yet, wonder of wonders, we con-tinue to live; as chastened but not killed, as sorrowful yet always rejoicing, as beggars yet enriching many, as having nothing yet possessing everything. (2 Co 6:9-10) In silence, in hiddenness, the monk's life radiates its message of peace and hope into the nighttime of our world, assuring us that the light of Christ shines in the darkness of our lives. The end draws near, but it will be the end of darkness and death, not of life. And in that dawn, made bright with the risen Christ, our hearts will know the joy that never ends and the perfect love that casts out every fear. You changed my mourning into dancing; you took off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, that my soul might sing praise to you without ceasing; O Lord, my God, forever will I give you thanks. (Ps 29) That is the song the monk sings secretly in his heart. lit is the song of every Christian who has surrendered himself to Love. Come, my beloved one. Walk with me. Give me your heart. The 'Desert Is Blooming The desert is blooming again, but it blooms in the clefts of the rock and the wide-reaching spaces. It blooms in the night and it spills its perfumes over desolate sands in unreachable places. A stream has burst forth in the wilds but it springs from the face of a rock and its source is unseen. It leaps crystal-clear from the wound in the rock and around it the gold of the desert grows green. The desert is blooming again, but to see where the beauty is sprung and the flaming bush stands, means rising by night, walking through measureless days, with no paths and no rest over hot burning sands. But the blossoms are live bursts of flam!! and the fragrance speaks Presence that gives the heart wings. And high in the rock where the waters leap forth in the cleft is a nest where a brown sparrow sings. Sister Mary Clare of Jesus, P.C.C. Monastery of Poor Clares 215 E. Los Olivos St., Santa Barbara, CA 93105 Untirl Christ Be Formed in You Marie Beha, O.S.C. Sister Marie is a frequent contributor to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. She is a member of the Monastery of St. Clare; 1916 N. Pleasantburg Drive; Greenville, SC 29609. At the heart of the universe there is a zone at once profound and simple . in which whatever is done to us, it is Christ who does it; whatever we do, it is to Christ we do it. (P. de Chardin, The Prayer of the University, Harper and Row, NY, 1965, p. 26.) How have we been formed, helped to grow, to become the persons we are called to be? What influences have been most formative in our lives? The answers to these questions are multiple, as well as uniquely individual. Yet a common thread runs through them all: other persons are what form us and they are most formative when they themselves are growing, healthy, that is, when they are in the formative process themselves. To be formative of others, then, one must be "in formation" oneself. Such is the simple truth: none of us is "formed," complete, totally mature; we are all on the way, in process. We all need the help of others, if we are to continue to grow. From whom can we receive the most help? It would seem that the person or persons who are most able to assist us are those who are willing to enter into a formative relationship with us, that is, who are willing to grow with us, to be "in formation" with us. The teacher, for example, who continues to learn, teaches not only subject matter but also gives us a taste for being educated. And the spiritual director whose understanding reveals that (s)he knows our struggles from having been there and from trying to move beyond, inspires us with the possibility of such growth for ourselves. Formation ministry then seems to begin with the premise that we are most formative of others when we ourselves are healthy, maturing persons, caught up in the growth process ourselves. From this it would seem to follow that this ministry should also offer, in itself, .opportunities for such growth. 486 Until Christ Be Formed in You / 487 Forming and Being in Formalion To be in a formative relationship with others, one must be "in formation" oneself. This is the basic assumption of all that follows, an assum ptio n whose meaning will be clarified as this article proceeds. But first to rule out a few misconceptions about "forming" and "being in formative relationships." Since growth comes from within, no one can assume responsibility for another's growth; no one can be made responsible. All any one can do, or fail to do, is to provide suitable environment, a climate that inspires others to mature, that makes such maturation more possible. What these persons give to others is the stimulus of experience, encouragement, and finally, example. They say with their lives: growth is worth the effort. The price may be pain but the purchase is life. This is how you are formed. Reach, stretch, mature. Be in formation with me. Another objection might be phrased: aren't those who grow the most the young and inexperienced? At first glance this might seem to be true, but only if the focus is kept on externals. Growth comes from inside out; it is qualitative, not quantitative. In terms of adding inches or amassing facts, the beginner holds the edge. But in terms Of breakthroughs, it is the skilled athlete who shaves seconds off the record; it is the experienced researcher who adds significant insights to the pile of his predecessor's conclusions. In other words, growth is most formative, not at the beginning but at the cutting edge, the tip, the climax of the process. Put in terms of model theory, a director of formation is not called to be a doctor who heals the wounds of others; only God really heals us. Nor is (s)he to be a lecturer, outlining facts and presenting them with logical clarity--there are books enough for that; nor a therapist working through the past~, helping another to discover more appropriate responses. Rather the model of an older brother or sister seems most revelatory. Like an olde~:)l brother or sister, the formation director walks alongside, shares experiences/i~ both past and present. Past experience allows him or her to have a sense of the~ way, a sureness in walking on it. Present ministry provides an opportunity to.~) walk alongside. The activity of the director of formation can only be in support both of this working of the Spirit and of human growth. The first, work of the Spirit is the Incarnation; "she conceived by the Holy Spirit" (Mr 1:20). So too the~first work of the formation minister will be to incarnate Jesus in his/her own life, to help another discover the Jesus he or she is called tobe. 'And all of this in the service of human freedom. How are we freed? By being redeemed, bought back from the slavery that is sin in us and helped to grow into full human responsibility. Such freedom cannot be taught; it can onlybe caught. It is con-tagious. In short,(~ve are formed into freedom by being with free persons, i.e., with those whom the Spirit of truth has already begun to make free. To be such an "Inspirited" person is the vocation of the director of formation, It is his ministry of being formed and so becoming formative of others. 1188 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 The Vocation of Formation Ministry How we see ourselves, regard our work, will be reflected in the way that others see us, see what we do. If an individual sees formation ministry as duty, he will be dutiful and those to whom he ministers may come to see themselves as burden, as obligation, as sacrifice. At best, they will respond by being dutiful themselves; at worst, they may become resentful and noncooperative. Others may see this ministry as an advancement and honor, an office, a promotion of sorts. In which case the service of fellow pilgrim will be lost both for the director and for those (s)he is called to serve. But both of these will probably find out quickly enough that its "duty" will call far beyond the limitations of being "dutiful"; that it is an "honor" hardly worth the cost. Yet even these extremes can be seeded with some truth. A ministry that sup-ports another's grbwth into Christ does impose the duty of living as we hope to see others live; and it is an honor to be called into such service. Formation ministry, then, is primarily service. But it is a service to which we are called, rather than a task which we choose for ourselves. It is voca-tional: a call coming from our Father and incarnated in community, a direc-tion continuous with our past, shaping our present and pointing the arrow toward future growth. And finally it is a call that will change our lives, prod us into conversion, gift us with new life in the Lord. In summary, the vocation of formation ministry will form us on that most personal level of our own call/response to the Lord. Like every vocation, the ministry of formation is primarily response, rather than self-initiated project. And a. gospel "woe" may well be pro-nounced on anyone who would be so rash as to undertake this ministry without a special call. The initiative for such an undertaking must come from the Father, be a deepening of his creative mystery at work in an individual life. How does this divine initiative become "verbalized"? In terms of such offices as superior or director of novices, it is the community which calls through election or through appointment. In regard to other expressions, for example those of spiritual direction or the formative influence of closeTriend-ship, the call still must be "spoken" by another. Spiritual direction ministry can be undertaken with greatest sureness when it is a response.to the expressed desire of others and not just a matter of embarking on a new apostolate. Similarly, the bonding of close friendship can never be a self-determined pro-ject; it is also a matter of call/response. Another way in which the vocation to formation ministry is actualized is through the reality of talent and gift. Are we able to be of service? Does past experience and training hold promise that our ministry will be fruitful for ourselves as well as for others? Even past difficulties which have allowed us to experience His power at work in our weakness may be real indicators of call and capacity for response. But all of these are only "hints." Election or appointment is the fallible work of very human instruments. Talents point to potential; but every Until Christ Be Formed in You / 489 possibility is not meant to be realized. A still clearer indication of divine initiative is found in our present response to the challenges of such a ministry. Do its painful challenges work redemption in us? Are we raised up by its self-emptying demands? Does the dailiness of this service help us to incarnate our most personal response to the Lord? If so, then we may be still more certain of our call and go on to give to it a life's commitment. For like every call, this ministry, if it is to be truly vocational, must make a lifelong difference. At first this may seem an unwarranted development. Aren't we talking about something limited in time, an office to be held for a few years and so to be taken merely as a present opportunity which will occupy us for a time and from which we will go on to other ministries? Though limita-tions of time and form are surely real enough, what seems even more true is the life-difference that such ministries do make. To enter into a formative relationship with another cannot be limited to a term of office; it is,ongoing. What is formed--or de-formed--in the other makes a critical and lifelong difference for both individuals "in formation." Obviously, the directee will need to respond "for life" to his/her formation, either by accepting its in-fluence and living out of it or :by transcending it; most often, he will need to do some of both. Likewise the director will be equally formed, but only if he com-mits himself to the formative process. More of this in the following section. But first a word on commitment. Like every call, coming from the Father, enunciated in the human accents of election/appointment and in the realized potential of the one called, a vocation to be a director of formation awaits per-sonal response. This answer begins with an acceptive, "I am willing," ".1 am ready to try." And goes on in the everyday of repeated response in the face of difficulty and challenge, as well as the joy of growth and significant dif-ference. Such renewed commitment becomes increasingly formative of still deeper commitments until an initial choice grows into a life-direction, giving its own meaning to everything else that is one's life. When this occurs, as this occurs, a director of formation grows in capacity to be formative of others just because (s)he is more formed himself. Formation in Christ The formation of every Christian is call/response to grow into "full stature': in Christ. There is no other direction for such a life in Christ than that of coming from the Father and returning to him, with the consequent becom- !ng ever more of a "son in the Son." So a vocation to be a minister of forma-tion will be lived out in deepening identification with the life of Jesus, an allowing of his life to be lived in us now. For each person so called this will mean a new enfleshing of His .mysteries of: incarnation realization, paschal transcendence, and eucharistic self-gift. Such will be the living out of a voca-tion to formation ministry. As a consequence, this ministry will become not only a call to serve others 490 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 ~but also an invitation to divine intimacy. Itis unfortunate that service and union have come to be seen as almost antithetical, or, at best, in a kind of ten-sion. The gospel parable of the talents hints at something quite different. There each wise investor of his talents is doubly rewarded:., with still more talents but also with an invitation to "enter into the joy of the Lord" (Mt ~" 25:21,23). So an individual who is called to the formation ministry will find that his talents will grow even as they are given away. New capabilities will be discovered in response to the needs of others. Even personal poverties will be transformed into experiences that allow one to enter more perceptively into the struggles of another. Such may be some of the ways in which talents in-vested in service of the Master are doubled in his return. But the greatest gift of all is that invitation to deepening intimacy which is extended to every faithful servant. The amount of original talents differs and so the amount of "doubling," but an opportunity for growth in personal relationship is offered each in an invitation to "enter into the joy of the Lord." Formation Ministry and ,Living Incarnation "Putting on the Lord Jesus" (Ga 3:27) could serve as the goal of all Chris-tian formation. What concerns us here is how the minister of formation is called to do this, is helped to do it, by his very service to others. The mystery of the'incarnation centers around such truths as "God so loved the world" (Jn 3:16). the virgin's acceptive, "Be it done unto me" (Lk 1:38) and climaxes in "the word became flesh and dwelt among us" (Jn 1:14). It is these same mysteries of creative love, acceptance and enfleshment of the divine, that will be realized as the formation director becomes Christ in and through service of others. "God so loved the world" (Jn 3:16). Motivation for formation ministry Imust be "rooted in love, grow in love" (Ep 3:18). As has already been sug-gested, it is not so much a task for which one volunteers as a call to which one responds out of love. "I come to do your will" (Ps 40). But this can be no grim conformity undertaken out of duty and it is surely one of the graces of this ministry that any such lack of love will be unmasked by diminished response from others. For individuals know intuitively whether they are being met by ~love or not and they respond accordingly. They also know whether they are loved only when they appear loveable or whether they are loved for themselves, as they are, in all their incompleteness. To be loved even when the sinfulness thatis still a real part of ourselves is most apparent is that merciful love that creates us anew. Such love, complete and "for-giving," is.beyond' the stretches of human capacity; it can only be a gift of sharing in the power of God's love. Yet itis just such a love that is asked of the formation director.for himself, and for those (s)he is called to minister to. This love of the Father for us "even when we are still sinners'~' (Rm 5:8) needs enfleshment this day, in unique circumstances, for particular individ- Until Christ Be Formed in You / 491 uals. But first the Father waits for human response to his promise, "! am with you" (Mr 28:20), "filling you with grace" (Lk 1:28). So a director of for-mation will find that his ministr3i calls for deepening, renewed commitment that will allow divine love to begin its transforming work. Such commitment must come in all the darkness of an acceptive trust that knows only "It is the Lord" (Jn 21:7) and yet responds, "he it done unto me." It goes on to call for a repeated giving body to this initial assent in all the life circumstances which call forth continuing, growing trust. Such trust will be renewed in the face of all those mysterious, slow and "dark" aspects of human growth, during all those times wheia any development at all is more a matter of faith than of vision. Faith grows through believing, and surely someone involved in formation ministry will be called to trust more in the Lord than in any response made out of careful planning or skilled technique, to let go of one's preconceptions and move with the Spirit, to trust one's intuitions even when they cannot be justified with reasons, to believe in the face of discouragement and apparent defeat. Often enough it is only the courageous faith of the director that will allow another to begin to believe in himself or herself. Such faith is rooted in the word of the Lord, not in human promise. Other-wise it will falter when individuals resist and all seems lost, when human mistakes are made despite the best of effort. To assist the Spirit at work in the formation of Christ in another requires an assent, made in faith's unknowing, to all that will be, even to the "end" of apparent defeat and the destruction of all that one has helped to form. For this possibility must also be accepted in a trusting "Be it done." Only, in such faith will the word that has been heard begin to be "made flesh" (Jn l : 14). First of all this must be the incarnation of Jesus, being lived out by the director himself, herself. To be so formed into Jesus is to.grow into that perfect man who is fully responsive to the Father and to others. For anyone called to formation ministry this response will be embodied both in prayer and in service. The prayer of a formation minister will be that of Jesus the mediator who stands before the Father, not in olace oLothers, but alongside of them. It will be the prayer of a life that teaches others to pray by praying. It will know seasons of necessary withdrawal and of .equally neces,sary involvement. It will include a being led by the Spirit into the desert and up upon the mountain top, as well as a responsiveness that remains always open to the immediate needs of others. Such prayer is essential, if the formation minister is to be revelatory of Jesus and of the Father. And this is the central service of any Christian ministry. The director of formation is to so incarnate the God-man that it can be said that anyone who sees hin), her, sees Jesu_.~Ajyjag~to_d_day. And if that weren't challenge enough, the director of formation is also called to reveal the Jesus that is in the other. For we are not meant, it seems, to 492 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 see, perhaps even to attempt to look at, the Jesus that is growing in ourselves. It takes the faithful love of another to mirror him to us. We need another to reveal that our needs as well as our gifts, our as yet unrealized potential as well as our present loveliness, are all beginnings of new life in Christ, a new incar-nation. Formation Ministry and Paschal Transcendence Letting Jesus live his life in us calls for an incarnational assent to the potential that is offered us in baptism; this initial commitment grows with each renewal that allows his life to become still more enfleshed in our being. Such responsiveness on the part of a director of formation will inevitably involve a "Journey up to Jerusalem" (Lk 19:28), a sharing in the dying and rising of Jesus in one's own life'and in the lives of others. Such suffering, no matter how it appears at the time, is never defeat; it is lpromise of paschal victory. But first the cross. The suffering we speak of here is not primarily a matter,of pain but rather the sum of all that must be borne 'until Christ be formed ' (Ga 4:19) in ourselves and in others. For to be in formative relationship with another means a being open that implies vulner-abilitY,; it risks letting other~ come close enough to us so that they may be touched, so that we may touch them. Such "touching" is apt symbol for the 'healing that isthe paschal victory of all redemption. But redemption is a costly process and consequently the director of formation is inevitably committed to renewed sharing in the sufferings of Christ "for the sake of his body" (Col 1:24). The sufferings of formation work include not only the expenditure of time and energy that are part of the price of any worthwhile undertakingobut they go on to ificlude the deeper sufferirigs of respons'iveness to others in the critical struggles of their being redeemed, and they culminate in the self-gift that is in-evitable in any process oftransformation. In this work of redemption' ~vith ~11 its suffering the director will find his or her own life being changed into greater identification which will, in its turn, be most formative of other~. So transfor-mation into Christ crucified will not only be a goal Of fo~rmation; it will also be part of the process for all who are "in formation." From the beginning, the'labor of formation will require a sacrifice of time, not only providing a certain allotment of time but even more radically ihe generosity to let one's time be taken by others. To let others take time mbans to give them time: to grow at their own pace, to express themselves in their own way, to claim as their own the time they need. It is not to allow ourselves or others to waste time in self-indulgent claims for attention, in endless repeti-ti6ns, in hesitancy that becomes fixed in cowardice. To give time is rather to offer it so that it may be consecrated to the work of redemption. Such an of-fertory is easily made in words; it is consummated in d~ily responsiveness: to an inconvenient request for "just a minute," to a halting expression of another's journey toward truth, to the setting aside bf a cherished project for Until Christ Be Formed in You / 49~! the sake of another's critical need. What is really given now "belongs" to others; the director can no longer lay claim to ownership, not even the hidden justification of self-pity and complaint. Free time cannot be hoarded; work time, for a dedicated director of formation, must always give priority to per-sons. So schedules bend and plans must be sometimes set aside. All of this "costs," yet, since it is not beyond the agreed upon price of this service, there is no honest cause for complaint. Self-pity is not only useless, it is unjustified and becomes, when this is admitted, singularly unsatisfying. However, such a gift of time, if it is to be a consecration of reality, cannot be without limits. A formation director who attempts to give away every minute attempts to be more than human and so inevitably fails. Everyone's time is limited; and to learn to live within limits is part of the formation pro-cess. To say "no" to what one cannot do, can be a dark ~nd mysterious "yes" to what one really is. For example, refusing a request may be a necessary part of giving priority to prayer. Such a choice is formative for life not only for the director but also for the one (s)he directs. Similarly giving oneself time and leisure to live is part of accepted human-ness. It sounds so easy, so right, but it requires discipline and so becomes another aspect of the cross formed by our temporal limits. When days are full already the temptation to overload must be resisted even when the tempter speaks in beguiling accents of real need or personal opportunity. A director of formation will grow personally and in service to others, as (s)he accepts per-sonal limits, learns to live within them, never failing to take time for prayer, giving unstintingly in service even at the price of personal inconvenience, but also resisting the temptation to become a messiah who needs to save all. As (s)he,grows thus in recognition of "the hour," a director of formation enters ever more deeply into the paschal mystery. This identification with the dying-rising of Jesus goes on in all the close, personal interchange, the "touching" and allowing oneself to "be touched" that is at the heart of the healing power of formation ministry. A director of formation will come to experience, for example, what it means to stand firm against the gravitational pull of sin, bad habits, patterns of self-indulgence. (S)he will have to respond honestly to such in others; but to do so, (s)he will also need to acknowledge and resist the powers of evil in himself. At times, the persons one is called to serve will try to defend themselves by lashing out at the director's faults. They may even be painfully accurate with their barbs and this will hurt; it can also heal, if accepted. Such is the mutuality of the process that valid criticisms, even when spoken in anger, can form humility--in director and. directee. When the criticism is more vindictive than valid, it can still be formative if the director stands firm and continues to love the other. In ministering to others in their "dying" one can expect some denial, anger, depression. To expect it, however, is not to take it all into oneself; this would only be to die oneself without any promise of hope in new life. Denial 494 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 must first be understood for what it is, a kind of first line of defense; but it cannot be condoned. Similarly, anger will require both honest admission and acceptance. If it is to become purifying, its energy must be channeled into con-structive ways lest it turn into self-destruction and the final defeat of closed-minded bitterness. So too, depression will need adequate expression as well as ! understanding compassion; but it too must be passed beyond. What the direc-tor willdo in allof these cases is to give immediate, concrete expression to Christ's understanding, acceptance and compassion, and this will be for him/her a renewed experience of "putting on the mind of Christ Jesus" (PhB2~)~t the same time, (s)he will resist the powers of darkness that could allow moods to mushroom into clouds of negative feelings, infect others with a critical spirit and damage the peace with projections that wound the truth. A director of formation may know in very personal ways the price of battling with such divisive spirits. But this too can become a sharing in the passion of Jesus, who both began and ended his public life in combat with Satan. In thus resisting the powers of evil, the director of formation will also experience those aspects of the passion in which Jesus "emptied himself" (Ph 2:7) taking on our weakness. To be called like Jesus to express the Father's desire that each individual come into freedom is not to experience that one is.a savior. On the contrary, the truth is that we do not save; only the Father does in and through Jesus. And in and through the life that Jesus lives in us today. Just as the power to save was costly for Jesus, cost him his life, so too it will cost life for a committed director. Though at times this may take on dramatic proportions, such crises cannot be anticipated. They can only be prepared for in the everyday, in the selfless bearing of others' burdens, in con- ~stant care, in lived through loneliness, in faced failures. To bear others' burdens without making them feel that they, themselves, have be6ome a burden takes a love that seeks to give rather than to receive. To care for others enough to let that become our heart's response, that is to experience the love that heals. Paul speaks of his "constant care for all the churches" (2 Co 11:28) as one of his most pressing apostolic sufferings; a director who cares will ¯ probably experience something of the same "weight of glory" (2 Co 4:17). Loneliness seems to be something of an occupational hazard for all direc-tors, surrounded though they are by others and yet called into a uniquely selfless kind of relationship with them. Like Jesus, the director must be there for others, not for himself/herself. What (s)he may wish to spe~k about, his/her concerns, feelings, fears or hopes, these are not the focus of the direc-tional relationship. Consequently, the director will probably know end-of-day times, holidays and even "holy days" when personal needs go without much human comfort, or understanding. These can be special opportunities for growth in relationship to the Father, who calls and who promises a corre-sponding grace of new intimacy to all who share the life of sonship. Finally, the director of formation will face failure; not only the burden of Until Christ Be Formed in You / 495 his own inadequacies but the tragedy, on occasion, of human resistance ~to grace, the weakness of repeated denial, reluctance to face truth, the darkness of a mind that cannot go beyond prejudice, and sometimes, even, outright denial for the sake of more immediate satisfaction. These are failures. Not only personal failures, but losses in the cosmic struggle for final redemption. They will not be ultimately defeative, however, if faith on the part of the direc-tor can transform them into claims on the power of God. And it is the power of the Father at work in the world, particularly the world, of "beloved sons" (Mt 3:17), that promises and makes possible, final triumph. This is the "secret" of the director's ability to empower others. (S)he trusts so completely in the Father's redemptive love that others are enabled to respond more fully, more freely. This is resurrection. And it is surely one of the paschal joys of formation ministry to see individuals begin to trust enough that they are willing to risk the darkness of buried fears, mixed motivations, strong conflicts. Only when these are faced and gone through can risen life begin to be realized. It is in such "passing through" that the director knows most fully the mystery that death gives way to glory. The promise of such Easter rising will be realized every time love is victorious over limitation, temptation, and human weakness, and new life comes.into the mystical Body of Jesus. Formation Ministry and Eucharistic Presence The formative process of "putting on Christ Jesus" (Gal 3:27) begins with an incarnational enfleshing of spirit; it continues in a passing through death into new trust and hope and joy; it culminates in an abiding presence that transforms the bread of our work and the wine of our pain into Eucharist. To live a eucharistic life, a director of formation will need to be really present in faith, to be offered in a daily sacrifice ~of praise, and, ultimately, to be transformed in the very body of Jesus. Eucharist realizes the abiding presence of Jesus, his remainingwith us even after he has passed through death into the full glory of his Father. It is one of a formation director's continuing joys to be allowed to. be_a.co-presence of Chris_____t in the lives of so many others. But such presence, if it is to be truly eucharistic, has to remain constant no matter what the times or seasons, places or persons. To be present in the present is, then, one of the ways in which the forma-tion director is challenged to live eucharistically. Surrendering the past into the mercy of God, letting go of hurts, transcending emotions'whose reality is chiefly out of former experiences, forgiving with enough love to forget as well: these are some of the ways in which what has been must be transcended to let the present break through. For it is only in the sacredness of present reality that God's gift can be received and given again. Such presence will also demand that a formation director set aside per-~ sonal concerns, to gift another with loving attention in the present moment. 496 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 (S)he will also need to transcend felt preference for this individual or that one, in order to be more given to each person who comes. Like the bread of life that can be received by all, the love of someone called to formation ministry will have to be present for and to many, many different persons. Rarely does a formation director have anything to say about which individuals (s)he will serve; rather (s)he learns to simply be there strongly and quietly, always pres-ent but as a sign to be passed beyond. Here again the director is formed into a eucharistic life through the grow-ing realization of what it means to live as sign of;the Lord's abiding love. First of all such a ministry demands a constant fidelity, if it is to speak of "everlasting love" (Jr 31:3). To be with others even when they are barely there themselves, to remain during the critical hours of choice, as well as the long days when not much seems to happen. To suffer with others in their pain and be companions of every small joy: all this calls for growing unselfishness. But such fidelity speaks significantly of a God who is always with us. And it is this kind of witness that makes a formation director into a sign of Real Presence. But only a sign meant to point beyond itself. Just as eucharistic bread abides as food, but only for this present journey, so too, a director of forma-tion will need to be constant in presence, .but only for the sake of another's going beyond. No sign is meant to call attention to itself but only to the greater reality which it signifies. So too, formation ministry will realize its goals when individuals transcend initial needs and grow more secure in self-direction. But none of us is meant to be so independent that we no longer need formation; our goal is to grow together in mutual formative responsibility. For such growth to occur, the directee will need to let go of "attachment" to direction and the director, to point beyond self toward greater freedom. To live a eucharistic life, a director of formation will also be asked to become an "unending sacrifice of praise" (Heb 13:15). Such a spirit of thanksgiving opens the heart of oneself and others to the Father's goodness, present in all created things. To enjoy one's daily bread requires an asceticism that goes beyond the mood swings which tend to dominate our interior world, as well as the changeable circumstances of everyday life. Such joy transcends immediate perceptions and rests secure in a faith which believes that everything that comes into our lives can be transformed. So the ordinary holds promise of gift and even the painful possesses possibility. It is within our per-sonal power to pronounce consecrating words every time we are acceptive of reality, saying "this is my body," my life, my world, a gift of His love. Such an asceticism of constant joy requires a eucharistic spirit of "giving thanks always" (Ep 5:20). For what are we grateful? Unless our pains as well as our pleasures are included, we have yet to discover the redeeming presence of Jesus offering praise to the Father through the sacrifice of his life. Such a vision of reality sees beyond appearances; it will require the eyes of faith, if we are to accept everything that comes to us as gift. Such living faith can best be caught from others who help us see that even o,._____ur most personal poverties pr.~o- Until Christ Be Formed in You / 497 vide opportunity for God's power to break through. Like wheat and grapes they matter for transformation. Such a spirit of praise for the ordinary and thanksgiving even for the pain-ful can only be celebrated in community. We cannot be grateful unless we are in relation with others; we cannot see with redemptive vision unless others open our eyes to the "glory dwelling in our land" (Ps 85:9). To see the beauty in the ordinary of others' lives will be one of the formation director's causes of celebration. Sharing the vision of someone who is discovering a certain truth for the first time will call forth hymns of praise. Even the cross will be celebrated, not for itself, but for the new life that it promises. A formation director will have ample opportunity t'o know the slow~ ordinary ways of human growth, to believe in the possibility of tra~sforming~ persons into a new body of Christ. His/her faith will be challenged in.the face~ of another's incredulity, "l'll never be any better." "I can't do it." "It's to much for me." In the face of such too human protests, the director can say, not only with words, but far 'm~re powerfully with a whole life's attitude, "Nothing is impossible for God" (Lk 1:37), if.you let his word and work transforni you. In hope, sometimes in a beginning vision of what is being accomplished, a director of formation will finally come to "see" something of eschatological promise. New life is coming; Jesus is being revealed. To help another discover the Jesus that he or she is called to become is surely one of the joys of forma-tion ministry. It is a work of love, for only love is creative enou_gh to let the ordinary become revelatory. So a director of formation becomes Eucharist in a ministry that requires abiding presence, joy-filled offering, and a faith that is open to transforma-tion. But the sacrifice that prepares for such a consecration is effected most really in the everyday of "bread that is broken" and "blood that is poured out" (Mr 26:26-27). For this ministry will, at times, require the kind of giving of one's body and blood beyond what can be asked, much less required. Only love can dare to make such demands. And it is out of love that a formation director will respond with a laying down of one's life for others. How is such sacrifice "ac(omplished"? In a giving whose only self-determination is to give everything, even self, away. The "accidents" of such an offering will be the gifts of time and energy, patience and persistence, shared pain and continuing struggles to respond; these will be the appearances that remain. They signify the constant ordinariness of this sacrificial ministry; they are the human externals giving form and expression to th~ desire that one's life be given to nourish the growth of others into fuller union in Christ. Underneath these and other external accidents of this ministry of forma-tion, an essential change takes place. That life which is "laid down for others" (Jn 15:13) will gradually be transformed into the life of Jesus who "gave himself as a ransom for many" (Mt'20:28). And it is in the giving that the transformation will be effected. Just as Jesus became savior in the living out 4911 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 of his mission, so too a director of formation will grow into greater identifica-tion with Jesus, by living out his saving mission, even to accepting the repeated small deaths that it entails. In this way transformation will be effected: "I live now, not I, but Christ lives in me" (Ga 2:20). Such interior change from living one's own life to allowing Christ to live his life, his mysteries, in us can transform the ordinary bread of human effort into a new sacramental reality. What is given becomes more significative, and so more effective. What is signified, what is really effected, is the love of God poured out in the Spirit of Jesus. Life becomes___a~from the Father, an acceptance of what is offered a .nd a_._~more.and_.more total return. This is the life of sonship. It is what all are called to live, what Jesus desires to live in us, if we allow him. For a, director of formation who is willing to give, who is willing to give with a whole life's body and blood, such self-donation promises a communion that grows into ever closer identification. And this, not only for oneself, but also for those to whom one ministers. In this way the mysteries of Christ will not simply be remembered; they will be celebrated anew in the lives of all who are involved in the formative process. Each individual will be called to live again the realism of the incarnation, the transformation of dying-rising, and the self-gift of eucharistic presence. And this very living will be transforming, until each of us and all of us together finally come to "form that one body which is Christ Jesus come to full stature" (Ep 4:13). A nnuncialion Stirring summer air salutes her cheek, Then tomorrows whirl inside her Kaleidoscope of thunderstorm and sunrise. She cups a question--"How?"--around the message To know its shape, And strikes white-hot divinity. "Let it be done!" Storm and sun explode In searing glory That contracts into a spark Within her womb. Sister Mary Cabrini Durkin, O.S.U. 1339 East McMill~n Street Cincinnati, OH 45206 Ecumenical Commitment and the Contemplative Dimension Robert Hale, O.S.B., Camald. Father Hale is the Roman Cfftholic Prior of Incarnation Priory, an ecumenical monastic com-munity sponsored jointly by the Camaldolese Order and the (Anglican) Order of the H61y Cross. His address is Incarnation Priory; 2451 Ridge Road; Berkeley, CA 94709. What relation can exist between ecumenism and the contemplative orders? Or indeed (and more importantly) between ecumenism and the more con-templative dimension in every religious, in every Christian life? ls there something about ecumenism that can reach down to that level and profoundly engage it? Or does ecumenism simply mean attending conferences and crack-ing technical theological books? If such were the case, it would probably run the risk of becoming just another cultural activity for churchy people, and fade sooner or later, with the emergence of a new fad. There are in fact some telling indications that ecumenism can reach down to the contemplative dimension, nourish it and challenge its full commitment. One thinks of a Taizi:, for instance, or of Chevetogne; one remembers a Thomas Merton, so profoundly ecumenical throughout his entire spiritual journey. The list of communities and individuals that witness to this con-templative dimension of ecumenism could certainly be extended at length. But what is it about ecumenism that does reach into the contemplative level? And indeed what is it about contemplation which (perhaps) really requires an ecumenical opening out? This article will seek to probe some of the ways these two areas overlap and interact. Ecumenism and Prayer of Petition Of course one of the most obvious ways t'hat the two are brought together is the moment of petitionary prayer. And it is precisely the contemplative who 499 500 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 is not ashamed to ask for things from the Father, for the more we advance in prayer, the more experientially we know that all is grace. So the more childlike our prayer can become, insistently asking. Cassian, for instance, proposes to very advanced contemplatives the constant repetition of the verse from the Psalms: "O God make speed to save me: O Lord make haste to help me.'" This contemplative form is an "important stage''2 towards the emergence of the Prayer of Jesus in Sinite and Athonite Hesychasm.3 "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me" is not the only formula used, but the prayer almost always has the.character of a petition.4 In the western tradition, the author of the Cloud suggests that when contemplatives pray in words, "their words are few. A short prayer pierces the heavens.''5 This also because "the contemplative must hold himself continually poised and alert at the highest and most sovereign point of the spirit,"6 and at that level one isn't loquacious. And what should this briefest of prayers be? Let me try to illustrate what I mean with an example from real life. A man or woman ter-rified by sudden disaster is forced by the circumstances to the limits of his personal resources, and marshals all his energy into one great cry for help. In extreme situations like this, a person is not given to many Words nor even to long ones. Instead, summoning all his strength, he expresses his desperate need in one loud cry: "Help!'" One could multiply the citations from contemplative authors,8 but the point probably doesn't need belaboring: the contemplative, like the insistent widow in Christ's parable (Lk 18:1-8), is not afraid to lose a little dignity and time in beating urgently on the door. The Fathers speak of the contemplative also as a Jacob who must frequently wrestle with God. George Herbert's striking poem entitled "Prayer" re-evokes this more urgent and dramatic function of prayer: Engine against th'AImightie, sinners towre, Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear.~ ' John Cassian, Conferences, X. 10; 2. Sources Chr~tiennes (Paris: Les l~ditions du Cerf, 1958) LIV, p. 88. 20. Chadwick, John Cassian (Cambridge: University Press, 1968), p. 106. ~ See for example A Monk of the Eastern Church, The Prayer o f Jesus (New York: Desclee, 1967), pp. 29-58. ~ Ibid., pp. 65f. ' The Cloud of Unknowing and The Book of Privy Counseling (New York: Image Books, 1973), pp. 95-96. 6 Ibid., p. 95. ' Ibid., p. 95-96; see also W. Johnston, The Mysticism of the Cloud of Unknowing (St. Meinrad: Abbey Press, 1975), pp. 168-172. ~ See for instance Ludovicus BIosius on "Aspirations" in A Book of Spiritual Instruction (Maryland: Newman Press, 1955), pp. 30-37; see also A. Baker, Holy Wisdom: Directions for the Praye~ of Contemplation (London: Burns Oates & Washbourne, 1950), pp. 509-518, etc. * George Herbert, The English Poems (London: Dent, 1977), p. 70. For an Orthodox analysis of the mystical theology in Herbert's poetry see Sister Thekla, George Herbert: Idea and Image (Buckinghamshire: Greek Orthodox Monastery, 1974). Ecumenical Commitment and the Contemplative Dimension / 501 We perhaps need a little of this violent urgency when praying about reunion. We have gotten our Christian collective selves in quite a mess. Anglicans have been praying for centuries that God might "give us the grace seriously to lay to heart the great dangers we are in by our unhappy divisions.'''° More recently, Vatican lI has endeavored also to stir up Catholics to "remorse over Christian divisions and a longing for unity.'"' But ecumenical theologians are unanimous in insisting that we're not going to be able to get out of this one trusting merely in our own skills. Authentic reunion in diversity will be primarily a gift. But we, like the lame and blind in the Gospels, must beg for the miracle. Christ isn't going to force it down our throats. Shifting Cassian's (and the Psalmist's) prayer into the plural, we must beg: "O Lord, make speed to help us!" Or maybe we'll just cry out with the author of the Cloud." "Help!" Ecumenism and Contemplative Renewal Thomas Merton, in an important article published the year of his death, and which well merits rereading, argues the intrinsic connection between ecumenism and contemplative renewal.'2 With the Counter-Reformation, contemplative life tended to assume an "inflexible" form, adopt a "stern em-phasis on 'regularity,' not to say legalism" which was "justified by a casuistical and sometimes arbitrary theology" and marked by "touching, though bizarre, manifestations of mystical stamp.'"3 One of the occupational hazards of the post-Tridentine contemplative ~ndeavor is that in its rigidity and tension it must sustain "an illusion of Special election and of incorruptible truth." ,4 The "contemplatives" caught up in this self-conscious nervousness can "do so much to save their souls that they lose them., they concentrate on such particular, limited aspects of good that they become perverse and singular.'"~ Anyone who has some acquaintance with contemplative monasteries and convents, and with "contemplative souls," is quite aware that Merton is on to something; the danger he is talking about is still inside our prayer life. What might serve as a protection and antidote? Merton proposes a good swig of ecumenism. He is talking specifically about monasteries, but the argument clearly has a wider relevance: The monastic life must preserve or acquire an ecumenical relevance, in the form of an ,o The Book of Common Prayer(New York: Oxford University Press, 1952), p. 37; this prayer has fortunately been conserved in the new Book of Common Prayer (New York: Seabury Press, 1977), p. 818. " Decree on Ecumenism, Introduction, n. I, in Abbot, p. 342. ': :T. Merton, "Ecumenism and Monastic Renewal," Journal of Ecumenical Studies (1968), reprinted in Contemplation in a World of Action (New York: Doubleday, 1971); citations here will be from the book. ,5 Ibid., p. 185. " Ibid., '~ Ibid., pp. 185-186. 502 / Review for Religious, l/olume 39, 1980/4 openness which is not only ready and able to discuss credal or sectarian differences w~tla polite detachment, but which is able to share on the deepest level the risks and agonies of Christian crisis, i6 If the problem isnervous rigidity and narrowness, clearly the opening out that ecumenical consciousness requires can constitute a needed healing force. Thus Merton is delighted that "monasteries are promising to become centers not only of ecumenical discussion but of deeply lived and participated ecumenical experience. ' ' ' 7 The author of the Cloud speaks of the "arduous toil" of the "con-templative work.'"8 For such a taxing activity, we need the solid nourishment of the Word, of the Eucharist, of the Fathers. Our own extremely rich Catholic heritage has often been rather diluted by post-Tridentine devo-tionalism, by anti-quietism squeamishness regarding contemplative prayer. The Reform insistence on the centrality of the Word, the Anglican and Orthodox awareness of the Patristic heritage, contemplative traditions that have flourished in other Churches--all these can nourish and broaden our own contemplative prayer. Merton himself is an evident example of a Catholic contemplative growing constantly from an openness to so many other heritages. If contemplation consists in so growing in union with God that our deepest consciousness expands to the dimensions of his love, certainly that love is limitless, and his salvific will embraces all men. If Christ has come to batter down men's walls and grant us his koinonia and reconciliation, surely he is the chief and principal ecumenist. And as we grow in union with him through con-templative prayer, then we shall become ecumenists at this deepest level of our Christ life. Contemplation and Ecumenical Renewal But if ecumenism can revitalize our contemplative life, it is also true that contemplation can contribute decisively to the growth of true ecumenism. Jean Tillard has noted: The reunion of two separated churches is not a mechanical process. And it cannot be the result only of theological discussions and official authoritative decisions. It is primarily a spiritual matter.Our reconciliation will be a true one and our unity a full one only if they are spiritually prepared and spiritually received. In other words, reunion has a mystical dimension." ~ Ibid., pp. 186-187. " Ibid., p. 196; see concrete proposals in R. Hale, "The Benedictine Spirit in Anglicanism," American Benedictine Review (Sept. 1979), pp. 245-248. '~ Cloud, op. cit., p. 83. '~ J. Tillard, Sermon preached at Mass of Reconciliation, Holy Cross Monastery, West Park N.Y., Sept. 18, 1976. OLcourse theDecree on Ecumenism insists that "spiritual ecumenism"-- conversion of heart, prayer and holiness of life--constitutes the "soul of the whole ecumenical movement." Ch. 11, nn. 7-8, in Abbot, pp. 351-352. Ecumenical Commitment and the Contemplative Dimension /503 If there is one aspect that has been wanting, the expert ecumenist continues, it is precisely this contemplative dimension: During the last years, we probably did not care sufficiently about this profound dimen-sion. We had a theological, doctrinal official ecumenism. Did we have a real spiritual one?2o The need of this contemplative dimension to fortify the ecumenical movement is probably more urgent than ever. Cardinal Hume has recently noted that ecumenism seems to be entering "a phase which is characteristic in the spiritual life--the dark night of the soul.''2' The analogy is most telling, because the dark night "follows on an initial period of fervor and enthusiasm and, when it happens, the soul runs the risk of giving way to frustration and impatience. It can sometimes have the impression of having been abandoned by God.''2~ Anyone acquainted with the current ecumenical situation will recognize the aptness of the Cardinal's reference. But the only way to get through the dark nights, according to St. John of the Cross, is through a most profound faith that is nourished from within by a contemplative experience of God's loving faithfulness. Things ecumenical do seem rather blocked at this point, and flashy joint liturgies and improvised lowest-common-denominator accords are not going to get us through. It may be that only the tenacious stay-ing power of contemplative experience will do it. Towards the beginning of this article, the importance of contemplative petitionary prayer was noted; but perhaps even more basically than that, ecumenism needs contemplative faith. Two Visions The ecumenical hope proposes a vision of a "coming great Church" in which each ecclesial community will .~be able to maintain its own unique spiritual and theological heritage, but all will be bound up in one sacramental and doctrinal communion, and rooted in the one Christ.~ The contemplative badly needs this beautiful ecclesial vision. It is a kind of giant mandala that reveals the Center, and also the circumference of his prayer. It is also a macrocosm of what his own spiritual life should be: the harmonious intercom- 20 j. Tillard, op. cit. 2' B. Cardinal Hume, cited in Catholic Herald (July 6, 1978), p. 3. 22 Ibid. 2~ Pope Paul VI, in treating of the reunion of the Anglican Communion and the Roman Catholic Church, sketched in broad outline one aspect of this vision: "There will be no seeking to lessen the legitimate prestige and the worthy patrimony of piety and usage proper to the Anglican Church when the Roman Catholic Church--this humble Servant of the Servants of God--is able to embrace her ever beloved Sister in the one authentic communion of the family of Christ: a com-munion of origin and of faith, a communion of priesthood and of rule, a communion of the Saints in the freedom and love of the Spirit of Jesus." Pope Paul VI, Homily for the Canonization of the Forty Martyrs of England and Wales, L 'Osservatore Romano (26-27 October 1970), p. 2. See also Acta Apostolicae Sedis, 62 (1970), p: 753. See also R. Hale, "La comunione anglicana: chiesa ponte, chiesa sorella," Vita Monastica l October 1978), pp. 3-11. 504 / Review for Religious, l/olume 39, 1980/4 munion of the several distinct dimensions of his being (for instance: body, mind, spirit) centered in Christ. It is also a model of what every community ideally would be--the unique personality of each safeguarded in the one pro-found intercommunion in Christ. The contemplative certainly needs the ecumenical vision. But the contemplative also has a vision: his glimpse of that communion which binds the Son to the Father in the one Spirit. And that one primordial communion is the source and measure of the ecclesial communion we seek; the prayer is often enough cited, but it deserves continual remeditation, for it sums up the contemplative and the ecumenical hope: "Father, that they may all be one, as you are in me and I in you, so also may they be in us" (Jn 17:21). REPRINTS FROM TIlE REVIEW "A Method for Eliminating Method in Prayer," H. F. Smith, S.J . 30 "An Apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice," M. Ollva, S.J . 50 "Celibate Genitality," W. F. Kraft . 50 "Colloquy of God with a Soul that Truly Seeks Him" . . 30 "Consciousness Examen," G. A. Aschenbrenner, S.J . 50 "Hidden in Jesus Before the Father," G. A. Aschenbrenner, S.J . 50 "Prayer of Personal Reminiscence," D. J. Hassel, S.J . 60 "Profile of the Spirit: A Theology of Discernment of Spirits," J. R. Sheets, S.J . 50 "The 'Active-Contemplative' Problem," D. M. Knight .75 "The Contemporary Spirituality of the Monastic Lectio," ¯ M. Neuman, O.S.B . 50 "The Four Moments of Prayer," J. R. Sheets, S.J . 50 "The Healing of Memories," F. Martin . 35 "The Nature and Value of a Directed Retreat," H. F. Smith, S.J . 35 Orders for the above should be sent to: Review for Religious Room 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, MO 63108 Please include 75¢ postage and handling charge with pre-paid orders. An Apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice I1: Community, Prayer and Eucharist Max Oliva, S.J. Father Oliva recently completed seven years as Director of Social Ministries for the California Province of the Society of Jesus. He is now Coordinator-Facilitator of Companions for Justice, a summer program of insertion with the poor for Jesuit priests and brothers. This summer he will be conduciing workshops on faith' and justice for laity, religious, students, seminarians, educators and people who work in social ministry. He continues to reside at the Jesuit School of Theology at Berkeley; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Introduction' The author pointed out in Part I of this article2 that we are called to the ministry of social justice by Jesus Christ, who works with us and whose Spirit is the source of our courage, wisdom, power and hope. It is God who must be the center of our lives, the focal point of our iden-tity: God's personal love for us is the basis of our worth. One writer expresses it this way: Christianity is such a radical and sweeping counter-stance to accepted standards and ways of action that the couiage it requires can only come from the security that is founded in being loved as sons and daughters of God. Only if we are firmly founded in dependence on God's love can we be willing to take the risks and suffer the pain involved ' The author is indebted to Father Bill Spohn, S.J., Assistant Professor of Theological Ethics at the Jesuit School of Theology at Berkeley, for his helpful comments in the preparation of this article. 2 Part I of "An Apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice" appeared in the September, 1977, issue of Review for Religious. 505 506 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 in really living out our Christian call to love others as compassionately and completely as Jesus does? . If God is the center of our lives, we can be people of unconditional trust, trust that transcends our fears of getting involved in justice issues, trust that looks beyond our uncertainties and insecurities, our skepticism and lack of belief, even what is reasonable or logical. It is unconditional trust in the loving power of God. Abraham had this trust: "I will make you a great nation and I will bless you and your descendants." Abraham went as the Lord directed him." (Gn 12:2,4) Mary also had this unconditional trust: "The angel said, 'You have found favor with God. You shall conceive a son and give him the name Jesus.' . Mary responded: 'I am the servant of the Lord. Let it be done to me as you say.' " (Lk 1:30,31,38) Each believed that nothing is im-possible with God. Each entrusted even though they had no idea what the future would bring. So it is unconditional trust that God's promise will be fulfilled through us, that God does not call us to do more than we are capable of, and that he is with us as we follow his call whether it be to enter into the lives of the materially poor or to encounter unjust social structures and those who manage them. Community In our faith commitment to justice, we depend on other people for challenge and support. Community may mean the members of one's family, selected friends, or a religious congregation. Our community may consist of those we live with as well as our "extended community," that is, people out-side one's immediate living situation, men and women, who more explicitly share a similar commitment to justice with us. Whatever the shape community takes for us, other people are indispensable if we are to be continually re-freshed and empowered to act for justice. In regards to the ministry of social justice, the author has found certain values in community to be important for an effective ongoing commitment'. In some ways, one can say that charity, or justice, begins at home, where we learn to value people above issues, where we learn to respect and trust dif-ferent ways of responding to the injustices of our world. However, it can also be said that the change~ that happen in us when we enter into another culture (be it ethnic or the culture of poverty)-- losing our fears, working through our insecurities and feelings of repugnance in a new environment, being freed from our prejudices--enable us to be more loving to the "difficult" people we live with, the sick, the aged, the lonely, the alcoholic, thehard to get along with. We go out to,the poor .where we are enriched by them and return to com-munity where we are better able to enrich others and invite them to become more involved in the struggle for justice. ~ St. Mary Seraphim, P.C~P.A., review of A Transformed Mind and Heart--Becoming Vulnerable and Compassionate, by Joseph Breaull, in Spiritual Life, Fall 1979, p.183. A Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice: H / 507' In order to effectively call one another to a faith justice commitment demands that our relationships be reciprocal: mutual trust and respect, open-ness to be challenged as well as to challenge, presuming goodwill on the part of the other, and inviting one another to go beyond the comfort of one's present degree or manner of commitment. One needs realistic expectations in looking to another's progress, an ability to rejoice in.small victories and enough self-insight to realize from one's own heart how intricate and demanding the pro-cess of conversion is even in regards to seemingly "little" things. Some people are more aggressive than others in promoting justice in their community. The one whose posture it is to confront others needs to be com-passionate in his br her attitude and behavior towards the other. Like Jesus, he or she will not "break a bruised reed or quench a smoldering wick" (Mt 12:22). On the other hand, other people are more low-key in their approach, one might even say timid at times. They may need to push themselves to speak out for the materially poor or for issuesof peace. Each approach needs to find its balance that the Lord may more clearly be known and the kingdom be furthered. It sometimes happens that the more aggressive approach opens up the door for the more gentle person to enter the scene. As one whose own style is low-key, it is the author's experience that he is often invited to present ideas on social justice in situations where a more confrontative approach has proved fruitless. This is especially the case when the person or group is at the begin-ning stage of a commitment to justice. It frequently happens in community that a "pioneer~type person"--the first one into a new field or apostolic endeavor--is tempted to bitterness and withdrawal because of a perceived lack of support from his or her own col-leagues. This is certainly true in the area of actions for peace and justice. What is actually often occurring is a fear and defensiveness on the part of those not similarly involved, that what they do and standfor is somehow under attack or being devalued. Take, for example, the case of a woman religious who belongs to a congregation which has traditionally taught in schools. She asks fora different kind of ministry, to work in a low-income area as a parish sister or to become a lawyer and work.with the materially poor. She may appear a threat to the other sisters without even being conscious of it much less deliberately trying to achieve' it. She needs to be aware of the possible effects of her seemingly "radical" move, not to discourage her from following her call, but to prevent her from becoming marginal with her congregation. The pioneer needs to transcend his or her own uncomfortable feelings toward the community and reach out to the others in an ~honest request for support. Such an attitude and stance is likely not to polarize, but to touch hearts in compas-sion and reconciliation. Mutual support and education are much more likely to result. Community can be an excellent vehicle for calling forth the best that is in us and helping us to realize and own our gifts. One value of having different 508 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 approaches to the ministry of social justice in a community is that others help us to clarify our own way of responding. It is the author's experience that a real help to enhancing the contribution of community is some form of group process. Group meetings can take the form of discussions of sensitive issues, such as, communal and personal life-style, or how to support a community member who out of conscience has decided to perform an act of civil disobedience and risks jail. Community gatherings can be used for the purpose of sharing one's faith and the motiva-tion one has in acting for justice. A meeting may be the kind of forum necessary for a member of the community to share his or her fears of acting for justice or the vulnerability one is experiencing in acting for justice. It is helpful in such a process not to be anxious over the seeming lack of "measured results," but to learn to.be at peace with the process, even the pain that others may be experiencing or the struggle that the group is undergoing. Some groups may find it helpful to bring in non-community people as resources, such as those who are materially poor or those who are involved in actions for justice. Whatever the actions of the individuals in community or the community itself, reflection on these efforts in the light of faith protects us from either harsh actions in the name of "justice" or misguided sentimentality in the name of religion. The Eucharist To gather together in worship is the most profound way we express ourselves communally. Liturgy, whether eucharistic or not, unites us to one another and to our God and to the poor and oppressed in the world in a unique way. Let us take a few moments to consider the Eucharist. We believe that Jesus Christ is really present in the Eucharist. In the Eucharist we are united with Christ in a special way and with the Father through Christ. In our commitment to justice we are called to image Jesus in his own commitment. He identified himself with the poor and the marginated of his day and challenged those who had much to share themselves with those who had little. We receive in the Eucharist the same Christ who received the mission to "bring good news to the poor, to proclaim'liberty to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and freedom for the oppressed" (Lk 4:18). God is the source of our compassion and our commitment to justice. We are to be "perfect as our heavenly Father is perfect" (Mr 5:48): loving, merciful, just. We come to the eucharistic table aware that we are not self-sufficient, that we need courage and commitment beyond our own ability and desire to be so. We are empowered to be Christ in our world through the nourishment that is the Eucharist. The Eucharist, however, is not simply a private devotion or only a per-sonal experience of the presence of God. It is personally strengthening, to be sure, if approached with openness and faith, but it is also outer-directed to the community gathered at each Eucharist and to the whole world. The Eucharist A Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice: H / 509 is global vision, for it is the Redemptive Act for the whole of humanity. It is not only at the center of our lives as Christians but also at the center of the world. The Eucharist is at the center of our commitment to social justice. It calls us out of ourselves to be like Jesus who gave himself in love and in total self-surrender to his friends. The Eucharist is self-gift, an open-ended gift of ourselves, for the many. The eucharistic table becomes the starting point of a great revolution, and the victims of this revolution are those who share the Eucharist. It is a call for a change of hearts, not a revolution in which the blood of others is shed, but one's own.4 Although it is undeniable that eucharistic celebrations build community among those who participate in them, Eucharist also calls us out to the suffer-ing people in our world, oppressed and oppressor alike. We are invited to be the Body of Christ, to be his memory in the world, to be his Body given for the many and his Blood poured out for the many.s Gospel values and realities relevant to the faith that does justice are abun-dantly present in the Eucharist. We begin our act of worship by acknowledg-ing to one another and to our brothers and sisters everywhere our complicity in the injustices of our time, both our personal sin and our lack of concern and commitment to changing indifferent and unjust social structures. We face our fears and timidity, our temptations to doubt and discouragement, our tenden-cies to try to do good without God, our temptations to build our identity in our works for justice, and we ask that the liberating power of God free us from whatever enslaves and paralyzes us. We ask too for reconciliation with our oppressed brothers and sisters whose hope in a more just world is to some degree dependent on our efforts to achieve justice. The Old and New Testaments challer~ge and invite us to participate in the liberating efforts of our time, to do justice, to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives, to give to the blind new sight, and to set the downtrodden free. The Scriptures motivate us and support us in our efforts to transcend our own interest and to follow the call of God to universal compas-sion and solidarity, a call that influences how we act and how we live. The Eucharist helps us to a more fundamental identification with the materially poor and powerless as we cohtemplate Jesus identifying himself with the poor and the hungry. "In the Eucharist we receive Christ hungering in the world. He comes to us, not alone, but with the poor, the oppressed, the starving of the earth. Through him, they are looking to us for help, for justice, for love expressed in action. Therefore we cannot properly receive the Bread of Life unless at the same time we give bread for life to those in need wherever and whoever they may be.''6 ' Samuel Rayan, S.J., "Feeding of the Five-thousand: A Meditation," Religion and Society, Volo XX, No. 1, March 1973, pp. 5-7. ~ Ibid. ~ Pedro Arrupe, S.J~, "The Hunger for Bread and Evangelization," Address to the 41st Inter-national Eucharistic Congress, 1976, p. 1. 510 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 In a world that spawns alienation and various forms of dehumanization, the community that gathers around the table of the Lord speaks eloquently of other realities: true sisterhood and brotherhood, that the glory of God is people fully alive, human dignity, and the positive value of human develop-ment--. both materially and spiritually. The Eucharist calls us to accountability and responsibility for our world in a commitment that is rooted in the solitude of our hearts. Prayer The importance of prayer in a life dedicated to the faith lhat does justice cannot be overemphasized. There are so many forces and attractions that endeavor to steer one away from a consistent commitment to justice. Beyond one's occasional fears and hesitations to become involved, there are the anguish of those who are oppressed which can promote our :compassion but also tempt us to despair .and the obdurateness of social structures and the self-interest of those who manage them which can overwhelm and paralyze us. There are. also temptations to think that one is the Messiah and feelings of being rejected by one's community and friends when their commitment is dif-ferent from our own, which can result in bitterness and alienation. There are the temptations to permanent withdrawal from the struggle for justice or the tendency to opt for the values and life-style that one has spent a good deal of time.and effort opposing--the "good life." Prayer is essential if God is to re-main: the center of our commitment to justice. It is in the quiet moments .of prayer that we discover who our center is, our loving God or the idols that threaten to divert our attention and our commitment. Prayer--God's presence to us and our presence to God--is a key means~of deepening our relationship with the One who calls us to the ministry of faith and justice and of coming to know ourselves with true self-knowledge. However, just as the Eucharist has both a vertical and a horizontal dimen-sion so must our life of prayer: Our union with God leads us to loving service of the b.rothers,and sisters, and nourishes that commitment. Thomas Cullinan writes about it in this way: One df the great classical portrayals of the Buddh~ shows him sitting in the normal lotus position with his left hand upturned, holding a begging bowl, and his right hand resting on the other knee with one finger pointing down to earth. The left hand, the begging bowl, represents the need for enlightenment. The other hand, resting, poihting down to earth, represents the need for us to be embedded and realistic in the human condition in which we find ourselves. We cannot live anywhere other than where God has asked us to live. Any man of faith can tell one that the tension set up between these two hands, the tension between the need for enlightenment arid serious appreciation of the world we are in, is bound to cause great suffering, great loneliness. We can escape from this tension of living faith by taking the right hand of involvement, or the left hand of enlightenment, to the exclusion of the other. With the right hand; for instance, we can seek to be so relevant to our world that we finish up as humanists with a A Spirituality for ?he Ministry of Social Justice." mere Christian overlay. On the other left hand we can escape the tension-of living faith by constructing for ourselves an alternative society, a special world of Christians who have set UP something alternative to the world in which God has placed them., missing perhaps t~he central point of incarnafi.on.' We can escape the tension of living faith by making of our prayer a private experience of enthusiastic pietism that has no relevance to the political reality in which we live. 'True prayer leads us out of ourselves to be Christ in our world and discover him in others. The same can be said of mysticism as William Johnston writes: Authentic mystical experience necessarily brings with it a great love for all mankind. It can lead to remarkably deep friendship and intimacy in those who share the same ex-perience; it also leads to a great compassion for the poor, the sick, the oppressed, the downtrodden, the imprisoned, the underprivileged . This union or solidarity with the poor and the oppressed is of the very essence of Chrisiian mysticism.8 Prayer is essential for an effective ministry of faith and justice and for the ongoing integration process that is involved. We need, as Bryan Hehir points out, a sense of history as we go about our ministry of justice, a Christian sense of history that has in it the following dimensions: Ultimate success is the eschaton, every work done for justice is redemptive, the Cross marks every great work in the Church, and the risen life governs our perspective.9 Our times of reflection and solitude give us the opportunity to keep this sense and vision of history alive in our hearts. There are many forms of prayer and it is not the intent of this article to ex-plore in any depth the differ6nt ways one can pray. Obviously, shared prayer can be a very enriching experience, a chance to be strengthened in our mutual commitment and an opportunity to recogiaize and value our different insights and ways of responding to injustice. The author has found an annual retreat especially helpful in keeping one centered on the call of God and aware of one's tendencies to enslavement. Some form of ongoing spiritual direction, whether one does this primarily by means of a journal;and occasional sharing with a friend or by means of regular contact with a spiritual director, is a necessary component to one's prayer life, keeping a sense of objectivity and realism alive. We have already touched on the Eucharist which is a profound way of praying. - Not only is an unexamined life not worth living, it is dangerous. The forces of evil as they are embodied in unjust structures and the sinfulness of men and women are more powerful than us, even with our sophisticated tools of social ' Thomas Cullinan, O.S.B., lfthe Eye Be Sound (London, England: St. Paul Publications, 1975), pp. 56-58. * William Johnston, S.J., The Inner Eye of Love (New York: Harper and Row, 1978), p. 132. ' Ft. Bryan Hehir, "The Ministry for Justice," Network Quarterly, Vo. II, No. 3, Summer 1974, p. 4. 512 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 analysis. We need these tools, but even more basically we need union with God in prayer. God's love for us and our world and our growing realization of this personal concern of God gives us the hope and joy that we need to persevere with integrity in the struggle for a more just and human world. Conclusion Community-- Eucharist-- Prayer, each is necessary if we are to live on the level of meaning and not simply on the level of measured productivity or documented results. It is easy in the ministry of faith and justice to get so caught up in the latest issue or in the myriad of justice issues so as to lose the vision of why we are involved, a response to God's call to help build the kingdom. We need the support and challenge of friends. We depend on the nourishment that comes to us in the Eucharist. We rely on the guidance of the Holy Spirit whom we come into contact with in our prayer. God is the center of our commitment to social justice; it is God who calls us out of ourselves to be loving servants of others. Now Available As Reprint An Apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice by Max Oliva, S.J. Price: $.50 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Understanding the Biblical Symbols for Life Peter J. Kearney Father Kearney teaches Sacred Scripture. His address is The Catholic University of America; School of Religious Studies; Department of Theology; Washington, D.C. 20064. For those who seek to explore how the Bible relates the inner life to active ministry, reflection on the biblical symbols for life can provide rich discoveries. Symbols touch the deeper levels of the human person, the well-springs for both contemplation and action. It is frequently through symbols that the Scriptures speak, unfolding them and interrelating them to draw us into greater awareness of the life speaking within ourselves and to fruitful sharing of this word in ministry. The very first chapter of the Bible describes the origins of life and employs a paradox which sets the tone for many of the reflections that here follow: to live isto be active, but to live fully is simultaneously to be at rest. In creating, God first sets the stage for the appearance of living things. When the "living creatures" come on the fifth and sixth days, the earth is marked by activity and motion. On the seventh day, God is at rest, but with his work completed he is now most fully active, sustaining in creation all that he has made, for creation is a process that is ever continuing, ever renewed (see Ps 104, esp. vss. 27-30), He sustains his creation and remains always at rest, for he never grows weary (Is 40:21-28). He wills that his human creation share his repose, which is really a fullness of life (Ex 31:16-17; Is 40:29-31). Life and Kingship The above-mentioned texts from Genesis, Exodus and Isaiah all come from a relatively late period in Israel's history (the Babylonian Exile in the 513 514 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 sixth century B.C.), but they express ancient ideas on life which had earlier been associated with the royal dynasty of David. The one who most expressed the fullness of life on this earth was the king. For he had asked God for life and God "gave him length of days forever and ever" (Ps 21:5). The poetry of the psalms could attribute divine qualities to the king because he mediated God's blessings to the people and his rule, when properly carried out, expressed God's harmonious ordering of the universe (see Ps 72). Here Israel borrowed from a much more elaborate royal theology in Egypt, where the pharaoh was divinized to a far greater degree. In Egypt, the pharaoh could be regarded as a source of life in his kingdom because a di,vine spirit had been breathed into him by a god and this spirit became the power by which the pharaoh ruled.' This spirit issued in royal pronounce'rnents by which the life of Egypt was sustained. Likewise in Israel, in ideal conditions, the land could be at rest as though it were paradise itself, because the spirit of the Lord "rested" upon the king and enabled him to pronounce decrees which brought justice to the weak but death to the wicked (Is 11:1-9; see also 2 S 23:1-4). Such thinking clarifies the background of Genesis 2 and 3, where the creation and fall of man, while describing human nature in general, is actually a theology of Israelite kingship.2 The coronation of a king was his "being raised up from the dust" (1 K 16:2), just as Adam was formed from the dust of the earth (Gn 2:7).3 Like a king, Adam received the spirit or "breath of life" (Gn 2:7) and then could share in the divine rule, symbolized by his naming the animals (Gn 2:19-20). But unlike the pharaohs or other ancient kings who im-itated them, the Israelite king could make no claims to divinity and thus he was not to eat from the tree of the knowledge of all things, a property of God alone.' The narrative of Adam's failure to obey and his consequent expulsion from paradise is probably a polemic against the abuses of kingship perpetrated by Solomon, who patterned his absolute authority too closely on the Egyptian model. The story also opposes the pagan concept that a superior kind of knowledge (Gn 3:6) was available to those who sought communion with divine powers through the sexual practices of the Canaanite nature wor-ship. Thus the earth yields its fruits only to man's toil (Gn 3:17-19) and not because of the magical rites of the Canaanites. For the king, as for humans in general, the true wisdom is in knowing oneself as a creature of God and rejoic-ing in this condition. ' See W. Wifall, "The Breath and His Nostrils; Gn 2:7b," Catholic Biblical Quarterly 36 (1974), pp. 237-240~ 2 See W. Brueggemann, "David and His Theologian," Catholic Biblical Quarterly 30 (1968), pp. 156-181. ~ See W. Bruggemann, "From Dust to Kingship," Zeitschrift far die Alttestamentliche Wissenscttaft 84 (1972), pp. 1-18. ' See I. Engnell, " 'Knowledge' and 'Life' in the Creation Story" in M. Noth and D. Thomas (eds.), Wi~sdom in Israel and in the Ancient Near East (Supplements to Vetus Testamentum, 3; Leiden: Brill, 1969), pp. 103-119~ Understanding the Biblical Symbols for Life The results of Adam's failu~ ~ire expressedas a life of wearisome toil upon an earth which resists man's efforts (Gn 3:17-19), a life of exile (Gn 3:23:24). Similarly, weariness, the disturbance of proper order and ultimately exile from the land could be readily associated with the failure of kingship. The prophet Isaiah,could accuse King Achaz of "wearying" both God and man through his failure to trust (Is 7:13). David may have had himself once crowned like a god (2 S 12:30), but his failure to maintain peace within his own family would lead to his own exile from Jerusalem in a procession of almost paralyzed weariness (2 S 15:14-16:14)5 which symbolized the disturbed order of the kingdom. But when the kingship functioned properly, it was as though the land itself had become paradise, and rest was restored. Such a state was symbolized through the figure of Noah (whose name sounds like the Hebrew word for "rest").~ The peaceful rule of the king was expressed figuratively through his holding the waters of chaos in check (Pss 72:8 and 89:26). In the story of Noah, the waters of chaos subside and creation is begun anew (Gn 9:7). God's eternal covenant with Noah (Gn 9:16) symbolizes the Davidic covenant (2 S 23:5), part of God's order in creation (Ps 89:35-38). Light and Truth A further significant borrowing from Egyptian thought was expressed in the Israelite use of sun imagery. In Egypt, the sun was worshipped as the source and sustainer of life. In paintings and carvings, the sun disc was pic-tured with wings, as though it were a huge bird making.its daily flight across the sky, There are traces of such imagery in Israelite poetry.7 When the Israelites were making their way through the desert after the Exodus, God was said to have "spread his wings to receive them," carrying them triumphantly forward (Dt 32:11). Here the symbol of eagle wings is applied to God because the extremely high flight of theeagle made it the most likely bird to provide the symbolism for the wings of the sun. Such metaphor was intended to express the desert period of Israel as a life-giving experience, through the use of the natural symbol for the source of life, the sun. Much later, during the period of the Babylonian Exile, similar imagery could be used to mark the end of exile and therefore of weariness: just as the eagle's long life was imaginatively thought to be due to his high flight near the rays of the sun, similarly "they that hope in the Lord will renew their strength, they will soar as with eagles' wings; they will run and not grow weary, walk and not grow faint" (Is 40:31). The symbol of the wings of God becomes particularly rich in a number of ' R. Whybray, The Succession Narrative: A Study of !i S 9-20 and 1 K I and 2 (Studies in Biblical Theology, Second Series, 9; Naperville: Allenson, 1968), p. 46. 6 See W. Brueggemann, "Weariness, Exile and Chaos (A Motif in Royal Theology)," Catholic Biblical Quarterly 34 (1972), pp. 19-38. ' See J. Murtagh, "Under the Shadow ofthy Wings," TheBible Today, no. 32, November 1967, pp. 2229-2232. 516 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 the psalms. Even though during the religious reform of King Josiah, sun sym-bols were removed from the Jerusalem temple (2 K 23:11), some managed to survive in the hymns which were sung in that temple. For example, Psalm 61 presents the king at prayer (see vs. 7), asking that God give him "rest" and place him "high upon a rock" (the royal throne, see vs. 8); he expresses his longing to take refuge in the shadow of God's wings, thus poetically attributing the life-giving rays of the sun to God, and presenting himself as the one filled with life from God, much as was the pharaoh who transmitted the life-giving rays of the sun to the people by means of his wise and effective rule.8 Elsewhere the pilgrim psalmist rejoices to see the sparrows and swallows sheltering their young in nests built on the temple (Ps 84:4). No doubt this sight specially touched him because it paralleled.his own relationship to God, whom he calls in this same psalm "a sun and a shield" (vs. 12). Such a background clarifies Jesus' complaint against Jerusalem "How often 1 wanted to gather your children together as a mother bird collects her young under her wings, and you refused me" (Lk 1,3:34). Jesus in effect was calling the people to recognize that the life-giving Presence of God which they had associated with the Temple was actually found in him. Because they did not recognize this, their temple would be abandoned (vs. 35). Luke here approaches the theology of John, whose prophecy about the destruction of the Temple contained an allusion to the raising up of the real Temple, the body of Jesus (Jn 2:19-21). Just as the sun is a natural symbol for life, so its brilliance aptly suggests the clarity of knowledge and truth. Thus light can signify the experience of revelation, a sensing of God's personal presence in the temple. In Psalm 36, the author praises God's goodness in having "the children of men take refuge in the shadow of your wings" and exclaims "in your light we see light," that is, the people draw their life from the living God in his temple (vss. 8, 10). In Psalm 27, the king calls God "my light" upon whose loveliness he wishes to gaze in the temple, in an experience of revelation so intimate that it can be described as face-to-face encounter (vss. 4, 8, 9) with One whose tenderness lasts even though that of father and mother might fail (vs. 10). The light of knowledge can also reveal God more indirectly through the maxims of human wisdom and the revealed word of God expressed in Israel's laws and religious traditions. In the case of wisdom thought, Egypt once more supplied a mythological theme, the person of Maat, daughter of the sun god Ra and goddess of justice, order and harmony. She is probably the source for the feminine personification of wisdom in Proverbs 8 and 9, where she invites the youthful-Israelite to come learn of her wisdom contained throughout the book of Proverbs.9 Her pagan origins from the sun express the theme of light s For the role of pharaoh, see, for example, "The Hymn to the Aton" in J. Pritchard (ed.), An-cient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament (Princeton University, 1955), pp. 369-37 I. ° See N. Habel, "The Symbolism of Wisdom in Pr I-9" Interpretation 26 (1972), pp. 131-157. Understanding the Biblical Symbols for Life / 517 as the knowledge and wisdoha ~hrough wtiicli mhn can integrate himself into ¯ the universe, which the brilliance of the sun seems to unite in a harmonious whole. This wisdom in the book of Proverbs sometimes appears to be merely practical advice about how to get along in life (e.g., Pr 23), but it is in fact the expression of a deeply moral sense.'° The light of life penetrates deep within man: "A lamp from the Lord is the breath of man: it searches through all his inmost being" (Pr 20:27). Similarly, the light of God's knowledge touches the recesses of man's moral life, penetrating deep in his heart: "The nether world and the abyss lie open before the Lord; how much more the hearts of men" (Pr 16:11). In this saying, the scribe profits from the symbol of the sun apparently going into the world of darkness each evening and uses it to present an image of God seeing deep into the heart of each one. In Psalm 139, the king marvels at this intimate knowledge of him which God possesses (vss. 1-6) and then applies solar attributes to God," praising his brilliance and his omnipresence (vss. 7-12). God's knowledge awakens in the king a strong sense of moral obligation to which he professes his conscience has remained faithful (vss. 23-24). This joining of divine solar imagery and the human response of virtuous practice can be found also in Psalm 112, reen forc-ing the understanding that life has an intrinsically moral dimension. Such thought is echoed in Jesus' words about light as a symbol for personal morali-ty: "The eye is the body's lamp. If your eyes are good, your body will be filled with light; if your eyes are bad, your body will be in darkness. And if your light is darkness, how deep will the darkness be!" (Lk 6:22-23). The Old Testament association between wisdom, morality and light is also distantly echoed in the Epistle of James, which calls God "the Father of~the heavenly luminaries" (Jm 1:17), who gives a "wisdom from above" (3:17), expressed in the moral counsels which pervade the epistle. Israelite thought also applied such language not merely to a general theory of human life, but also to the wisdom which it possessed in its own peculiar religious traditions, grouped under the general heading "law." With regard to specifically legal traditions, just as the Babylonian king, Hammurabi, presented his lawcode as written in obedience to the sun god,'2 so the Israelite king could regard the laws by which he ruled as expressing the wisdom and life-giving power symbolized.by the sun. In Psalm 19, the king describes the harmonious unity of the world, in particular the path of the sun across the sky (vss. 2-7) and then praises the divine precepts as filled with the qualities of the sun: "refreshing the soul., giving wisdom., rejoicing the heart., enlighten-ing the eye., enduring forever" (vss. 8-10). To move beyond the merely legal ,o R. Murphy, "Introduction to Wisdom Literature," Jerome Biblical Commentary (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1968), 28:8. ~'J. Holman, "Analysis of the Text of Ps 139" (Biblische Zeitschrift 14 (1970), p. 225. ,2 See "The Code of Hammurabi" in Pritchard (ed.) Ancient Near Eastern Texts, p. 163. 518 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 traditions, the prophet Ezekiel was no doubt alluding to this same psalm when he said the word of God was "as sweet as honey" (compare Ps 19:11 and Ezk 3:3).' Even though it was a word of doom (Ezk 2:10), upon itdepended the life of both sinner andjust and even Ezekiel himself (3:18-21). Similarly, the legal and historical Israelite traditions in the Book of Deuteronomyhave life-giving properties.Since Deuteronomy represents the religious reform of Josiah and his attempt to purify Israelite religion of its pagan associations, sun sym-bolism is muted here. Moses warns specifically against worship of the sun or any of the celestial bodies (Dt 4:19), but the ancient symbolic association between sunlight and truth is still discernible in his words. Moses' rhetorical challenge to seek through the days of old sii~ce creation and "from one end of the sky to the other" alludes to the eternal path of the sun through the heavens (Dr 4:32); in this same chapter, he has the nations themselves profess that the traditions in Deuteronomy are a sign both of God's intimate relationship with his people and of their great wisdom, two themes traditionally associated with sun symbolism (Dr 4:6-7). Such language prepares for Moses telling the Israelites that there is no need to seek God's command up in "the sky or across the sea; it is rather in their own mouths and hearts (Dt 30: l 1-14). In effect, there is no need to follow the path of the sun, as symbolic source of wisdom. The laws of Deuteronomy, which the people will have thoroughly learned, embody the wisdom they need. Thus Moses can exhort them to "choose life" (30:19), that is, to assimilate the life-giving property which the traditions of Deuteronomy contain. Against this remote background of solar imagery, several aspects of John's gospel are clarified. The entire work conveys a sense of repose, of li.fe in its fullness, possessed by Jesus and communicated to his disciples, Jesus is in the Father and the Father is in him (10:38) and Jesus promises that they will both dwell within the one who is faithful to Jesus' word (14:23). His fullness of life is paradoxically expressed through Jesus' word (14:23). His fullness of life is paradoxically expressed through Jesus' complete control of the cir-cumstances, which surround his death. Gone from this gospel is the agony in the garden. Jesus tranquilly goes to face his captors (18:4-9) and'ultimately bows his head after a solemn proclamation that his work was finished (19:30). John allows the s6tting of Jesus' death to be permeated with an atmosphere of life, thus' giving dramatic expression to his theology that the raising up of Jesus on the cross was simultaneously a raising up to glory (8:27; 12:32), that his death is a source of life(l 2:24). In addition, the protective presence of God which had been revealed to Israelites in the temple is now revealed in Jesus. This presence had been announced during liturgy in Old Testament times by formulas such as "l, the Lord, am your God" (Ex 20:2) and "I am the first and I am the last" (Is 44:6); throughout John's gospel Jesus echoes such expressions, identifying himself, for example, as the Vine, the Good Shepherd, the Resurrection and Life and thus conveys that the life-giving presence of God in the temple is now to be found in Jesus' own person. Seeing Understanding the Biblical Symbols for Life God in the temple now happens in a new way, for one can look upon Jesus and see the Father (14:9). Of course, the themes of light and life repeatedly inter-twine throughout John's gospel. As in the Old Testament, this light is closely related to knowledge, revelation and truth; also, this truth has a strong moral dimension, for the light which Jesus brings is expressed in what the Father has commanded (12:46-50) and those who are loved by the Father obey the com-mandments Jesus gives (14:21), all summarized in the commandment of love 05:9-17). Just as the Israelite king ruled with justice (Ps 72), so Jesus associates his own kingship with the truth which is a life-filled communion with God: ". I am a king., the reason why I came into the world is to testify to the truth" (Jn 18:37). The.moral dimension of truth is further expressed by speaking of the light as showing the way one should walk (l 1:9-10; 12:35-36). It receives its fullest formulation when Jesus proclaims that he is the Way, the Truth and the Life (14:6), thus indicating that union with God reaches its fullness through union with the person of the risen Jesus. Implied in this union is a sharing in the "sabbath rest" of God himself, a life-filled, activity-filled rest which belongs unceasingly to Jesus, who revealed on a sabbath day that "My Father is at work until now, and I am at work as well" (5:17). Several other New Testament Passages express a similar theology of life, among them Jesus' praise of his Father and invitation to his disciples in Mt 11:25-30. Jesus proclaims the mutual knowledge between Father and Son, suggesting the intimacy frequently found in the gospel of John. As in this lat-ter gospel, the Son can reveal the Father to those whom he wishes (Mt 11:27). He then offers to the weary a promise of refreshment and rest, which is actually a fullness of life. Speaking after the manner of ancient kings, Jesus proclaims his gentleness in ruling, and by means of the symbol of a yoke, invites his followers to obey his commandments, much as he does more explicitly in the gospel of John. In Matthew, the teaching of Jesus is likened to a "yoke," a symbol which stands for the discipline needed to achieve wisdom (Si 51:26) and which reenforces the association between Jesus' commands and the truth. Also in the gospel of Mark, Jesus holds out an invitation to his disciples to come with him and rest (6:31). One might think that the crowds who then followed Jesus were disturbing this rest, but they rather come and share in it. Here Mark subtly alludes to Psalm 23, in which the king, shepherd of his people, proclaims that the Lord is his own shepherd who gives him rest in green pastures, saving him from the darkness which is the threat of enemy powers and showing him the right paths by which he may govern the kingdom in justice. The king celebrates this intimate relationship with God in the tem-ple, where a festive banquet is spread before him. In Mark 6:30-44, these themes are echoed as Jesus looks with pity on the crowds who are like sheep without a shepherd. He teaches them at great length; we are to understand that his words are a source of life to them, parallel to the wise proclamation of 520 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 the ancient kings. The meal of bread and fish is distributed as the people are seated on the green grass. Here there is no temple, but the passage retains a liturgical atmosphere, for the meal clearly symbolizes the Eucharist. The peo-ple eat their fill and give symbolic expression to the life-giving property of this sacrament, given, as Jesus elsewhere says, so that the people may not grow weary along the way (Mk 8:3). This scene in Mark 6 can lead in turn back to the gospel of John, for it shows why the theme of the Good Shepherd (Jn 10) is apropos in a gospel concerned with the theme of life in its fullness: "I came that they might have life and have it to the full" (10:10). Food and Water The multiplication of the loaves in Mk'6 also illustrates the association between the word of God spoken by Jesus and food. They can be related inasmuch as they both sustain life. Such a connection can be found in the traditions about Elijah, who announces a drought that will last until he says otherwise (1 K 17:1). However, for the poor widow whom he visits, his word provides a supply of food that will continue through the drought. This story contains the same central theme as that expressed in the subsequent episode, when the prayer of Elijah causes the widow's son to come back to life, namely, the life-giving power of God's word spoken through his servant Elijah. As in Genesis 2-3, there is strong polemic here against the claims of the Canaanite religion to impart life through nature worship.'3 This opposition reaches its greatest intensity when the command given by Elijah spells death for the four hundred Canaanite prophets (1 K 18:40). A similar theology of God's word is probably contained in Exodus 16, where the manna is given in sufficient supply for all, provided the people follow exactly God's instructions for gathering it (vss. 4, 18).'4 The mention of the manna tasting like honey (vs. 31) probably alludes to the sweet taste of God's law proclaimed in Ps 19:11. In Dt 8:3, the link between God's word and the manna is made quite clearly: the Israelites' nourishment with manna was a sign that "not by bread alone does man live, but by every word that comes forth from the mouth of the Lord." Jesus' use of these words during his temptation in the desert (Mt 4:4) shows that his fasting is a symbolic dying, a depriving himself of one means of sus-taining life, so that he might be filled with another, God's word.'~ Such im-agery is also well established in several prophets. Amos likened the absence of God's word to a famine (Am 8:11-12) and Jeremiah spoke of "devouring" the words of God (Jn 15:16); Ezekiel elaborated on Jeremiah's imagery by an '~ See F. Eakin, "Yahwism and Baalism before the Exile," Journal of Biblical Literature 84 0965), pp. 407-414. " For additional material on the symbolic character of Ex 16, see C~ Carmichael, "Deuteronomic Laws, Wisdom, and Historical Traditions," Journal of Semitic Studies 12 (1967), pp. 198-206. '~ On fasting as "dying," see T. Gaster, Thespis: Ritual, Myth and Drama in the Ancient Near East (Anchor Books; Garden City: Doubleday, 1961), pp. 26-34. Understanding the Biblical Symbols for Life / 52"1 allusion to Ps 19 in describing his eating the scroll of God's word and finding it sweet as honey (Ezk 3:3). In John's gospel, Jesus speaks of having food to eat of which his disciples do not know, namely, the doing of his Father's will (Jn 4:32-34). Later, after giving bread and fish to his disciples at the lake shore, he commands Peter to "feed my sheep" (Jn 21:17), a charge which in the context of John's gospel undoubtedly means allowing the sheep to hear the "voice" of the Good Shepherd 00:3-5, 16), much as they heard his teaching in Mark's gospel, when they ate bread and fish supplied by Jesus (Mk 6:34). Such passages establish the close bond between word and sacrament in Christian eucharistic theology, as most clearly expressed when the disciples on the road to Emmaus recog-nized Jesus in the breaking of the bread, but only after having their hearts prepared through Jesus' explanation of the Scriptures (Lk 24:31-32). Israel expressed its reflections on life also through the natural symbol of water. In the creation account of Genesis 2, the stream which waters all the surface of the earth provides the clay from which man is made (vss. 6-7) and a river in Eden is the source of fertility in the garden (vs. 10). This river should be understood as a further specification of the stream in vs. 6, for it divides into four branches (vs. 10), symbolizing the four directions of the earth and thus marking out Eden as the source of life for all the earth. Such symbolism had a concrete application to the Jerusalem temple, which was regarded as a representation of the garden of Eden and thus through poetic imagination was provided with "a stream whose runlets gladden the city of God, the holy dwelling of the Most High" (Ps 46:5). Once again, as with the imagery of the eagle wings, the temple stands as a source of life for the people. The most dramatic elaboration of such symbolisn~ can be found in Ezekiel's vision of the stream which flowed from the temple (Ezk 47) and grew to a mighty river changing the Dead Sea into fresh water filled with fish. The trees along its banks, with their copious fruit and medicinal leaves are an adaptation of'the tree of life from which Adam and Eve were permitted to eat. This association between the temple and healing helps to understand why Israelite liturgy, as a source of life, implied forgiveness of sin in its very performance, a belief against which various prophets struggled when such healing was understood as occurring automatically (e,g., Am 5:21-25; I~ 66:3). Since sunlight and water were both perceived as natural symbols for life, there are several other ways in which water symbolism coincides with that of light, most notably in the role assigned to the king and also to the command-ments of God. In 2 S 23, the images of sun and water coalesce when it is proclaimed that the king "is like the morning light at sunrise on a cloudless morning, making the greensward sparkle after rain" (vs. 4). The state of "rest," a synonym for "life," is associated with water as the king thanks God for leading him "beside restful waters" (Ps 23:2). The state of war is a threat to this rest and so when the king faces enemies, he speaks of himself as af-flicted with a thirst which symbolizes his nearness to death: "My throat is 522 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 dried up like baked clay, my tongue cleaves to my jaws; to the dust of death you have brought me down" (Ps 22:16). The natural experience of thirst in battle (see Jg 5:15-19) allows the king to express his desire for victory as a long-ing for water: "As the hind longs for the running waters, so my soul longs for you, O God (Ps 42:2). Do me justice, O God, and fight my fight against a faithless people" (Ps 43: l ; Psalms 42 and 43 were originally a single psalm). ,6 When the victory comes, it can be symbolically expressed through the slaking of the king's thirst: "From the brook by the wayside he will drink; therefore will he lift up his head" (Ps 110:7). The life which he has absorbed, he then transmits to his kingdom through the just exercise of his power: "He shall be like rain coming down on the meadow, like showers watering the earth. Justice shall flower in his days." (Ps 72:6). A just rule is carried out within the framework of just laws, enacted in con-formity with God's will. Thus water symbolism can be readily applied to laws insofar as they are life-giving, particula~'ly so because water is life-giv.ing when it is transformed from a chaotic force into channeled streams and into rainfall that comes in the proper, well-ordered time. Thus in Genesis 1, life can begin upon the earth once the chaotic waters have been assigned their proper place (Gn 1:6-11). In similar fashion, several psalms contrast the tumultuous primeval waters with the life-giving streams and rains which result from the divine ordering of the seas (Pss 46:3-6; 65:8-14; 104:5-18). Thus the decrees of God, ordering the life of man, can be compared to life-giving water. When Moses changed the bitter waters into fresh because he followed the directions of God, his action could be joined to the notice that the Lord there gave the Israelites laws which would let them.experience his life-giving healing power (Ex 15:22-26). Later on, an episode in the area of Horeb, the place for receiv-ing commandments from God, seems to have been transformed by an editor into a scene at the Jerusalem temple (Ex 17:1-16). The water from the rock at Horeb symbolizes both the commands of God and the water associated with the mountain of the Lord in Jerusalem (see Ps 46:5). MoseS seated high on a rock with his arms outstretched and growing weary resembles the king in the psalms, enthroned on a high rock and stretching forth his arms in prayer as he grows weary against his enemies (Pss 61:3; 62:5; 143:6-7). Just as in these psalms the king places his hope in a faithful following of God's will, so the people receive their strength from faithfulness to God's commands, symbol-ized by the water from Horeb. Such theology is quite close to that of the prophet Isaiah, who combined in his own fashion the themes of water, rest, and trustful adherence to the com-mands of God. For Isaiah, the gently flowing waters of Shiloah, which sup-plied Jerusalem with water and perhaps also suggested to him the motif of the See note on Psalm 42-43 in the New American Bible {Paterson: St. Anthony Guild, 1970). Understanding the Biblical Symbols for Life / 523 "stream flowing from the Temple," symbolized the quiet trust of faith which was a source of life for Israel; because the people rejected this gentle stream, the waters of the Euphrates River, that is the destructive power of Assyria, would engulf them with its chaotic force (8:6-8). Jerusalem was meant to be a place of rest for the weary, that is, a center of life for the people (28:12), but the king of Judah rejected faith and thus brought weariness (7:13). This rest could be achieved if only the king would cease seeking aid from foreign powers (30:2, 15, ] 6; 31 : l) and provide for just rule within his own kingdom,'7 giving a share of life to the poor and defenseless among his own people (1 : 17, 5:22-23; 10:1-4). Far from being an expression of inactivity, the theme of rest and quiet in Isaiah is a call to reform to a just distribution of wealth according to God's will, so that Jerusalem could again be a center of life, a city of rejoic-ing: "Justice will bring about peace; right will produce calm and security. My people.will live in peaceful country, in secure dwellings and quiet resting places. Look to Zion, the city of our festivals; let your eyes see Jerusalem as a quiet abode" (32:17-18; 33:20). The waters of life is a theme of special richness in the Gospel of John 18. '~ In the story of the wedding feast at Cana (Jn 2:1-12), the jars of water are pro-vided according to the rules for ceremonial washings and thus the water can aptly symbolize the Jewish law. The wine is a familiar symbol for messianic fulfillment ,(e.g., Ho 14:8) and here expresses the centrality of Jesus who replaces the Law as God's 'primary means of revelation. The episode of the Samaritan woman (Jn 4:1-42) employs a clearer allusion to the imagery of revelation in the symbol of "living water," that is, water which both flows and symbolizes life; here the source of this "living water" is Jesus rather than the biblical traditions symbolized by the well of Jacob. This "replacement" theme continues in John 7 and 8 in connection with the Feast of Booths. This ancient autumn harvest,festival, at which the Israelites joyfully thanked God for his blessings and prayed for a fruitful harvest in the months ahead, com-bined the symbols of sunlight and water, both naturally associated with the fertility of the fields. Probably Psalm 84, a pilgrimage song which calls God a '°'sun" (vs. 12) and sings of the "early rain" of autumn (vs. 7), was part of this festival. The temple was the scene of illumination and water libation during this feast, but now the new center of life is the person of Jesus, God's new tem-ple (Jn 2:21), as he proclaims during the festival that he is "the light of the world" (8:12) and the source from which living waters shall flow to give life to those who believe (7:37-38). These waters finally do flow from the body of Jesus on the cross, when the soldier pierces him with a lance (19:34-35). In ac- ~7 For the idea that "being still" in Isaiah refers to a gradual reform from within the nation, I am indebted to Rev. Henri Cazelles. ,8 For most of what follows on the theme of water in John, see R. Brown, The Gospel According to John (The Anchor Bible, 29 and 29a; Garden City: Doubleday, 1966 and 1970). 524 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 cord with John's theology th