Suchergebnisse

Neither John Chrysostom's efforts to evangelize in Sasanid Persia nor the conflict fought between Rome and Persia in 421 have drawn a great deal of attention.1 So this paper will attempt to navigate the 20 years from John's initial efforts up to the outbreak of the war without much modern support. Beginning from a series of clues in ancient sources I will try to gather apparently unrelated narratives into a story of how John inadvertently contributed to the even that Kenneth Holum called 'Pulcheria's Crusade'. Not that this war earned any of the historical significance of the later crusades. Our sources tell of various religious disputes on the border that led to a Roman incursion into Sasanian territory, the conflict was quickly dropped without any major strategic outcome.2 On the other hand, this conflict could be seen as a milestone in the development of the role of exclusive religions in imperial politics. Though the term 'crusade' will at first sound anachronistic in the early 5th century, there does appear to be a development of religious motivations in conflicts between Romans and Sasanids. Roman battles against the first Persian invaders in the early 3rd century could hardly call upon any crusading attitudes, but Heraclius' climactic battles against Khosro II in the 7th century were able to return the true cross to Jerusalem. So when we see Theodosius' court react to Persian persecution of Christians with a full scale military attack, we may be tempted to test its status as the first Roman crusade and look for motivations and causes. However complex and manifold these may be, I will argue that the unique missionary zeal of John Chrysostom initiated a concatenation of events that led to war.

The main purpose of this theological research is to show the testimony in the priestly ministry. Our approach based on the words from Acts 1:8. Biblical and Patristic texts constitutes the sources of the thesis, it is the Antiochian environment that is emphasized and that grants unity to the corpus. The authorized testimony entrusted to the Apostles by Jesus is expressed more in the teaching and the liturgy than in the government because it does not cease with the dispossession. From Paul to Ignatius and John Chrysostom, referring to the prophetic texts and the Word of Christ, we see the development of a theology of the priesthood as testimony. ; L'objet principal de cette étude théologique est le témoignage dans le ministère sacerdotal, analysé à partir du verset Ac 1, 8 . Le milieu antiochien a été privilégié. Il donne l'unité aux textes bibliques et patristiques qui constituent les sources de la thèse. Le témoignage autorisé confié aux apôtres par Jésus Ressuscité s'exprime davantage dans l'enseignement et la liturgie que dans le gouvernement car il ne cesse pas avec la dépossession. De Paul à Ignace et Jean Chrysostome, toujours en référence aux textes prophétiques et à la parole du Christ,on voit s'élaborer une théologie du sacerdoce comme témoignage.

"Serial no. 99-B." ; "September 1985." ; At head of title: Committee print. ; Title on added t.p.: A matter of interpretation, changes under chapter 1 of the Education Consolidation and Improvement Act. ; CIS Microfiche Accession Numbers: CIS 85 H342-11 ; Bibliography: p. 221-224. ; Microfiche. ; Mode of access: Internet.

During his Antiochian Period, St John Chrysostom gave three homilies on the Letter to ‎Philemon, which reveal the Saint's standpoint from slavery, a deep-rooted institution in ‎Antioch and the Eastern Roman Empire of that period. The political system in the region was ‎changing into the Byzantine Era and Christianity was expanding progressively in the city. ‎However, it was not easy for Chrysostom to move his audience to foster the liberation of ‎slaves and to deal with all humankind with equity. A task that had been already difficult for ‎the Apostle Paul was still so for Saint John. Nowadays, several forms of slavery still blight ‎our global and local society, a fact that challenges Christians again to engage for freedom ‎and equity all over the world. This paper studies the three homilies searching for the Pauline ‎fundamentals as detected by Chrysostom in order to define modern patterns to fight against ‎all forms of slavery, including forced labor and human trafficking.‎

The article is dedicated to the intellectual history of the early twentieth centuryof the Kyiv Theological Academy. In the years of the First Russian Revolution (1905-1907) in the Kyiv Theological Academy was formed a liberal party of professors. They were advocating the idea of a reform of theological education system. In particular, the reformers called for the democratization of the inner life of the theological academies, for the academies autonomy in relation to the power of the bishops, and for the election of higher administrative positions in the academies. In addition, liberal professors tried to find new ways of Orthodox theology developing. They advocated the approximation of theology to the needs of the present, for overcoming the closeness and scholasticity of academic theology. One of the brightest representatives of this ideological course was the professor of the Kyiv Theological Academy Vasiliy Ekzemplyarskiy (1875-1933). In teaching moral theology, he tried to discuss with the students the actual social problems.In his publications in the 1905-1912, one can see the seeds of what is now called "public theology". In particular, his program articles were dedicated to the problem of the morality of international politics and the problem of the death penalty. A wide resonance was caused by his article devoted to the comparison of the social doctrine of St. John Chrysostom and Leo Tolstoy. The views expressed in this article caused the discontent of the church leadership. In particular, Ekzemplyarskiy here severely condemned the "official" theology, which, in his opinion, tried to justify the non-Christian actions of the state through biblical arguments. As a result, in 1912, Ekzemplyarskii was dismissed from the Academy and was able to return to teaching only after the February Revolution, 1917. In connection with further revolutionary upheavals, the ideas of professor Ekzemplyarskiy, unfortunately, did not develop. Nevertheless, the legacy of Vasiliy Ekzemplyarskiy was an important prologue to the formation of domestic "public theology".

The article is dedicated to the intellectual history of the early twentieth centuryof the Kyiv Theological Academy. In the years of the First Russian Revolution (1905-1907) in the Kyiv Theological Academy was formed a liberal party of professors. They were advocating the idea of a reform of theological education system. In particular, the reformers called for the democratization of the inner life of the theological academies, for the academies autonomy in relation to the power of the bishops, and for the election of higher administrative positions in the academies. In addition, liberal professors tried to find new ways of Orthodox theology developing. They advocated the approximation of theology to the needs of the present, for overcoming the closeness and scholasticity of academic theology. One of the brightest representatives of this ideological course was the professor of the Kyiv Theological Academy Vasiliy Ekzemplyarskiy (1875-1933). In teaching moral theology, he tried to discuss with the students the actual social problems.In his publications in the 1905-1912, one can see the seeds of what is now called "public theology". In particular, his program articles were dedicated to the problem of the morality of international politics and the problem of the death penalty. A wide resonance was caused by his article devoted to the comparison of the social doctrine of St. John Chrysostom and Leo Tolstoy. The views expressed in this article caused the discontent of the church leadership. In particular, Ekzemplyarskiy here severely condemned the "official" theology, which, in his opinion, tried to justify the non-Christian actions of the state through biblical arguments. As a result, in 1912, Ekzemplyarskii was dismissed from the Academy and was able to return to teaching only after the February Revolution, 1917. In connection with further revolutionary upheavals, the ideas of professor Ekzemplyarskiy, unfortunately, did not develop. Nevertheless, the legacy of Vasiliy Ekzemplyarskiy was an important prologue to the formation of domestic "public theology".

This article looks at St. John Chrysostom's teachings on envy — a quite common thing in theempiristically researched society. According to the Saint, envy — is the sinful passion, disrupting both the personality of the envier and the society on the whole, leading to common enmity and crime. As envy became common for the human being only after the Fall of our progenitors, it is not a natural social attribute. Envy may and must be removed, as other sinful passions, which is a necessary condition for a harmonious society ; В статье рассматривается учение Иоанна Златоуста о зависти — весьма распространенной вэмпирически наблюдаемом обществе явлении. По мнению святителя, зависть — это греховная страсть, которая разрушает как личность своего носителя, так и общество в целом, приводит к всеобщей вражде и преступлениям. Поскольку зависть стала реальностью человеческого бытия лишь после грехопадения прародителей, постольку она не является естественным атрибутом социального бытия. Зависть (как и другие греховные страсти) может и должна быть устранена, что является необходимым условием появления гармоничного общества.

Статья посвящена установлению возможной связи посвящения престолов церквей колоколен Одигитрии Смоленской в суздальском Покровском (1516) и Иосифо-Волоцком (1515 (?)) монастырях со взятием Смоленска в июле 1514 г. и строительством грандиозного шестистолпного пятиглавого Спасского собора в Хутынском монастыре в Новгороде, по предполагаемому обету, данному Василием III в связи с присоединением Пскова летом 1510 г. Также высказывается предположение, что переустройство Златоустовского монастыря в Москве с возведением там каменной церкви и придание ему особого статуса выполнено по обету, данному великим князем в память о присоединении Новгорода. ; The work is devoted to clarifying the possible association of construction or reconstruction of some churches with military victories of Ivan III and his son, Vasily III. It is suggested that the construction of the stone church of St. John Chrysostom Monastery in Moscow was connected with the implementation in 1479 of a hypothetical promise to the Grand Duke in the memory of the accession of Novgorod in 1478. According to the author, the construction of the Saviour Cathedral in Khutyn Monastery in Novgorod is the fulfillment of promises, perhaps made by Vasily III in connection with the accession of Pskov in the summer of 1510. The author believes that the initiation of altars of churches of Hodegetria of Smolensk in Suzdal's Pokrovsky monastery in 1516 and the monastery of St. Joseph of Volotsk in 1515(? ) were connected with the capture of Smolensk in July 1514.

Se estudia la violencia religiosa entre el concilio de Sardica y Teodosio II en la Historia Religiosa de Teodoreto de Cirro. Este trabajo es continuación de otros sobre el mismo tema, en la Historia Ecclesiastica de Sócrates y de Sozomeno. Se estudia la lucha entre arrianos y seguidores del Concilio de Nicea, entre cristianos, contra los judíos y los paganos. Se estudia la intervención, en estas luchas, de los emperadores, desde Constancio hasta Teodosio II. Se examina la convocatoria de diferentes concilios, Sardica, Rimini, Nice, Nicea, Milán, Constantinopla. La importancia de estos concilios en la lucha entre arrianos y ortodoxos. Se menciona la actuación de personajes importantes en la lucha entre arrianos y ortodoxos: Atanasio, Osio, etc. Se intercalan las actas de los concilios y cartas de Atanasio, de los emperadores, de Dámaso, etc., sobre la lucha. Se estudia la violencia en ciudades importantes del Imperio, como Alejandría y Constantinopla contra los ortodoxos, y la violencia de los arrianos contra varios personajes importantes del momento. Ocupa un lugar destacado en esta lucha, el diálogo entre Constancio y el obispo de Roma, Liberio, y su destierro. Se estudia la política anticristiana del emperador Juliano; la política favorable a los ortodoxos de los emperadores Joviano, Valentiniano I y Graciano; la política favorable a los arrianos de Valente, y la política de Teodosio I, que suprimió dentro del Imperio el paganismo y el arrianismo, y la destrucción de templos paganos. Se examina la política religiosa de Honorio; de Juan Crisóstomo y su lucha contra judíos y paganos. Se estudia la violencia anticristiana en Persia y la política religiosa de Teodosio II. ; This article studies the religious violence between the Council of Sardica and Theodosius II in the Historia Ecclesiastica of Theodoret of Cyrrhus, and it is the continuation from others about the same theme, in the Historia Ecclesiastica of Socrates and Sozomen. Also it´s studied the struggle between Arianism and followers of the Council of Nicaea, between Christians, against Jews and the Pagans. It's studied the intervention, in these struggles, of the emperors, from Constantius to Theodosius II. It's examined the notice of different councils, Sardica, Rimini, Nice, Nicaea, Milan, Constantinople. The importance of these councils in the struggle between arianism and orthodoxy. It's mentioned the conduct of important persons during the struggles between arianism and orthodoxy: Athanasius, Hosius, etc. It's inserted the certificates of the councils and the letters of Athanasius, of the emperors, of Damasus, etc., about the struggle. It's studied too the violence in important towns of the Empire, like Alexandria and Constantinople against the orthodoxy, and the violence of the Arianism against different important persons in this moment. It's occupied an important point in this struggle the dialogue between Constantius and the bishop of Rome, Liberius, and his exile. It's studied tha Antichristian politics of the emperor Julian; the favourable politics to the orthodoxy of the emperors Jovian, Valentinian I and Gratian; the favourable politics to the Arianism of Valens, and the politics of Theodosius I, he abolished in the Empire the Paganism and the Arianism, and the destruction of pagan temples. It's proof the religious politics of Honorius; of John Chrysoston and his struggle against the Jews and Pagans. It's studied tha antichristian violence in Persian and the religious politics of Theodosius II.

Anti-Semitism amounts to the longest, deepest, widest, most universal form of ethnic hate and prejudice ever to exist in all of human history. But few of us have any idea of how it got started and how deeply it pervades western culture. This eye-opening video tells the long story of shame. It's something everyone ought to see!

U ranokršćanskom kompleksu Eufrazijane u Poreču, nastojanja lokalne zajednice, na čelu s biskupom, da podigne spomenik dostojan slavnih porečkih mučenika, ogleda se u raskošnom mozaiku središnje apside bazilike i podudara s ambicijama vladara koji je posljednji od velikih rimskih vladara. U kojoj mjeri nam ikonografski program Eufrazijane i drugih svetišta iz doba Justinijana pomaže da shvatimo ulogu cara kao neprijepornog arbitra na području ne samo politike već i kršćanske doktrine, pokušat ćemo objasniti u ovom prilogu. ; The article deals, once again, with the famous Early Christian complex in Poreč (named Euphrasiana after the bishop Euphrasius who, in the 6th century, has given the complex its present, vell preserved aspect). Euphrasius' claim to fame, of course, are surely the exquisite mosaics that adorn the main apsis of the basilica (as well as fragments in the apses of the two side aisles). It represents Mary as Theotokos, holding Jesus in her lap, surrounded by angels, local martyrs (Maurus), bishop Euphrasius himself, the deacon and his son. The article traces back the development of this iconographical scheme in the central apse of the sanctuary, characteristic for the 6th century and the reign of Justinian, but traceable all the way to the second half of the 5th century when we encounter this type of representation in two recorded stories about Mary's girdle, found in Palestine and brought to Constantinople where Leo I had a sanctuary built to house the precious relic. This iconography can be explained, and often was, by the gradual growth of support for the veneration of Mary, the Mother of God (Theotokos). The official Church played a major part in this respect (in particular as the result of oecumenical councils held in Chalcedon, Ephesus and Constantinople), following and respecting an existing, growing popular affection (one has to note that not all the Church Fathers were all too happy with this; i. e. John Chrysostom and Ambrose of Milan). One last influence has to be reviewed: the imperial contribution in developing and promoting the image of Theotokos as a token of orthodoxy and the holy patron of the state. By 626 it is Mary who is protecting Constantinople and it is her image which is displayed against the invading barbarians. Justinian is rather clear in stating that all of the doctrinal controversies of the period result from the efforts (his efforts !) to prove that Mary is the Mother of God (Theotokos). The iconography in Poreč reflects the endeavours of this emperor just like his other major »investments« do (Gaza, Saint Catherin's monastery in Sinai, Ravenna). There are many details alongside the main idea that bear proof to the Christian oikoumence of the period which is under absolute control by Justinian. As such, Poreč is not only a message against heretic Arians or Monophysites, but also against the Roman Church, unwilling to accept emperor's control over matters of Christian doctrine. Pope Vigilius is dragged away to die in Constantinople while Wuphrasius, just about the same time, celebrates the triumph of orthodoxy as promoted by the emperor, as does his contemporary Maximianus in Ravenna. Justinian is only appropriately remembered as »Herr über Kirche und Dogma«.

ABSTRACT: As any other Christian institution, the family is also subject to the dissolving influences of the values promoted by modernity, being part in the accelerated process of secularisation specific to the contemporary society. In contact with the modernity, its values and its custom of political correctness, the Christian family – the small Church, as called by Saint John the Chrysostom – tends to lose the fundamental theological valences and meanings of the communion and of the community, by the ghettoization of its capacity to respond to some general human aspirations with pregnant ontological and soteriological connotations, becoming more and more a simple social form among other forms of two partners living together, too little preoccupied by the fact that "unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labour in vain" (Ps. 127:1). KEYWORDS: traditional family, modernity, single-parent family, ghettoised community, soteriology, eschatology

This collection of essays is dedicated to Alexander Ivashkin (1948-2014), a long-standing Professor, Chair in Performance Studies, Director of the Centre for Russian Music, curator of the Alfred Schnittke Archive at Goldsmiths, University of London and a virtuoso cellist. The collection grew out of the Conference and Festival Orthodoxy, Music, Politics and Art in Contemporary ñussin and Eastern Europe, held at Goldsmiths, University of London, 16-17 March 2013, and jointly organized with the University of Eastern Finland, by Alexander Ivashkin and Fr Ivan Moody, who was then Professor of Church Music at the UEF. The initiative, however, belonged to Alexander, with whom the possibility of such a project had been discussed over several years. The event was a tremendous success, but alas, Ivashkin's sudden illness and death on 31 January 2014 meant that he would not see the present publication, which has undergone a series of delays that have, in the end, in fact only enriched its content. As a Visiting Research Fellow with the Centre for Russian Music at Goldsmiths and a disciple of Ivashkin, Ivana Medic took over his role as a co-editor of the present volume, which also includes chapters from two of Ivashkin's former PhD students, Rachel Jeremiah-Foulds and Tara Wilson. The book comprises shorter essays, as well as longer, thoroughly researched studies, covering a wide range of topics and dealing with both sacred and profane, Greek, Russian, Latvian, Bulgarian and Serbian music, inspired by the Orthodox tradition. The central idea behind the event, and the subsequent publication, was always the exploration of connections between Orthodoxy, music, politics and art in the broadest sense, unhindered by specific ideological considerations or disciplinary straitjackets, but rather bringing together expertise from a number of related areas in such a way that every contribution might spread light on one or more of the others. Thus, while the emphasis in general is on Russia and Eastern Europe, we begin the volume with a contribution dealing with Byzantine chant. This has practical and symbolic significance: the Byzantine tradition lies at the heart of Orthodox musical practice, but, as Achilleas Chaldaeakes's paper shows, it has never been a tradition immune from the reality of that unfortunate phenomenon known as "Church politics". Nevertheless, it is the music that survives, and the detailed analysis of Patriarch Athanasios's kalophonic heirmoi provides some intriguing possibilities for future scholarship and performance. From the Byzantine world we move to that of Russia. Elena Artamonova sheds new light on the figure of Sergei Vasi1en1‹o, whose investigations into the music and culture of the Old Believers make of him far more than the marginal figure he has often been assumed to be. Though far better known, Stepan Smolensky is still an under-appreciated figure in the West, and Tatiana Soloviova's chapter places his work within the context of the rediscovery of early sacred chant in Russia. He too was interested in the chant of the Old Believers, but whereas Vasilenko's approach was decidedly that of a composer, Smolensky's was that of what we would now call a musicologist. This detailed contextualization of his work brings that to the fore, whilst always bearing in mind the deep influence he had on younger Russian composers of the period. Mediaeval Russian chant might, on the other hand, be little associated with the music of Prol‹ofiev in most people's minds, but I4atya Ermolaeva's thorough discussion shows just how far the technical details of the characteristic trichord permeated the music he wrote for Eisenstein's film Ivan the Terrible. The four subsequent chapters deal with music in other countries of Eastern Europe. Jiilija Jonane provides an overview of the way in which Russian Orthodox musical traditions have influenced the composition of sacred music in contemporary Latvia, a country that was of course annexed by the Soviet Union, but is also distinguished by its multi-confessional nature. Predrag Dokovic and Ivana Medic discuss different aspects of music in Serbia: Dokovic gives a presentation not only of the situation of sacred music during the Communist period in the country, but a discussion of the consequences of this for Serbian musical culture in recent years. Medic, on the other hand, provides more than a glimmer of light in her discussion of the influence of Orthodox church music used by Serbian composers in their piano music. Ivan Moody's chapter is placed more or less at the centre of the book as an attempt to give a wide-ranging account of the intersections of politics, modernism, religion and music in Russia, Bulgaria and Serbia. The last section of the book brings together five chapters dealing with various aspects of contemporary Russian music. Paulo Eustachi takes us on a personal journey through the Orthodox-infected world of Tarkovsky and other film directors, particularly in terms of the music they chose for their films. Boris Belge discusses the importance of the role of religion in the music of Sofia Gubaidulina, and Rachel Jeremiah-Foulds undertakes a similar task for a very different composer, Galina Ustvolskaya. The work of the enigmatic Russian-Canadian composer Ni1‹o1ai I4orndorf, and in particular his early setting of texts from the Liturgy of St John Chrysostom, is examined in detail by Gregory Myers, and Tara Wilson gives a fascinating account of the role of Russian Orthodoxy in the music of the maverick composer Vladimir Martynov. We are grateful to Dr Tamsin Alexander, Lecturer at Goldsmiths and Head of the Centre for Russian Music, as well as Dr Gavin Dixon, who secured the collaboration between Goldsmiths and the Institute of Musicology SASA on the present volume. The Ministry of Education, Science and Technological Development of the Republic of Serbia provided funds necessary for the preparation and publication of this book. We would also like to thank our colleagues at CESEM — Universidade Nova, Lisbon and the Institute of Musi-cology SASA, Belgrade, and last but not least, our outstanding peer reviewers — one of whom, Dr Dimitrije Stefanovic (1929— 2020), Fellow of the Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts and one of the foremost experts in Orthodox church music is no longer amongst us, but his legacy lives on.

Issue 20.1 of the Review for Religious, 1961. ; Volume 20 1961 EDITORIAL O~FICE St. Mary's College St. Marys, Kansas BUSINESS OFFICE 428 E. Preston St. Baltimore 2, Maryland EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITORS Augustine G. Ellard, S.J. Henry Willmering, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITORS John E. Becker, S.J. Emile G. McAnany, S.J. DEPARTMENTAL EDITORS Questions and Answers Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Woodstock College Woodstock, Maryland Book Reviews Earl A. Weis, S.J. West Baden College West Baden Springs, Indiana Published in January, March, May, July, September, Novem-ber on the fifteenth of the month. REVIEW FOR RELI-GIOUS is indexed in the CATHOLIC PERIODICAL IN-DEX. JOHN XXIII Devotion to the Precious Blood [The following is an English translation of the Latin text of the apostolic epistle Inde a prirais, which Pope John xxIiI issued on June 30, 1960, concerning the fosterihg 6f devotion to ~the Precious Blood of Christ. The original text oF the docu-ment is to be found in Acta Apostolicae Seitis, 52 (1960), 545-50.] From the first months of Our pontifical labors, it oc-curred to Us again and again--and our. solicitous~ and plain-spoken words have often been an indicatioh of Our future intentions--that when daily practices-of religious piety were to be discussed, We would invite the faithful to an ardent honoring of that reality which in a remark-able way manifests the mercy of God for the souls of men, for holy Church, and for the entire ~orld~. We would in- ' vite them, in other words, to a special veneration of the Precious Blood of Christ Jesus, our Redeemer and our Savior. ~' We Ourselves became accustomed to this devotion in the home in which We were raised. Even today it is with happiness that We recall that every day during the month of July Our parents used to recite at home the litanies of the Precious Blood. Following the apostolic exhortation, "Take heed"to yourselves and to the entire flock whereof the Holy Spirit has made you bishops for the ruling of the Church of God which he acquired by his own blood" (Acts 20:28), We have decided, venerable Brethren, that the principal and pressing duties of Our pastoral office demand that We first of all take care of sound doctrine and secondly that We provide for the right exercise and conduct of religious piety, both" in its public and its° private manifestations. For this reason it hag.seemed to Us opportune to exhort Our sons to consider the indissoluble bond which should link the two widely diffused devotions to the Holy Name of Jesus and to the Sacred Heart of Christ with the're-. ligious homage to be offered to the Precious Blood of the Incarnate Word which was poured forth "for man~ for a remission of sins" (see Mt 26:28). ÷ ÷ ÷ D~votion to Precious Blood VOLUME 20, 1961 4, 4, ]olm XXIH REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 4 Just as it is of the utmost importance that the liturgical action of the Church should be in full accord with the profession of the faith;since "the law of belief determines the law of prayer";1 and just as no forms of piety should be introduced which do not flow from the purest fonts of the truths of faith; so it is also right that the various types of devotions should agree among themselves. It is actually necessary that those forms of piety which are re-garded as the most important and which are more apt for the attainment of holiness should in no way disagree with or oppose each other. It is likewise necessary that the forms of piety which from the viewpoint of value and of use are of limited and minor importance should yield ground to those forms which contribute more to the ob-taining of the salvation that was accomplished by Him who is "the mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, who gave himself as a redemption for all" (1 Tim 2:5-6). If the faithful derive the driving forces of their personalities and the discipline of their lives from a correct faith and a sane piety, then they can be assured that they are thinking with the Church and that through their union of prayer and their charity they are clinging to that Christ Jesus who is the Founder and High Priest of the lofty religion which derives its name, dignity, and power from Him. Even if only a hasty glance be directed to the admirable new emphases that the Church has attained in the field and area of liturgical piety--and such emphases are in full accord with that salutary progress of the faith wards a fuller understanding of divine truth-~it becomes consolingly clear that in the last few centuries this Aposto-lic See has often and openly approved and recommended the three religious devotions We have already mentioned. Although these devotions had been introduced into the practice of Christian living by a number of the faithful during the Middle Ages and although they were after-wards propagated in various dioceses and in various re-ligious orders and congregations, yet it was necessary that the authority of the Chair of Peter should intervene in order that these practices might be declared to be in ac-cord with Catholic faith and that they might be extended to the universal Church. It will be sufficient to recall here that from the. sixteenth century Our predecessors had bestowed spiritual benefits on the devotion to the Holy Name of Jesus which in the previous century St. Bernadine of Siena had untiringly propagated ~hroughout Italy. In honor of this Holy Name an Office and a Mass were first approved, then a litany.~ x See the encyclical Mediator Dei, Acta Apostolicae Sedis, 39 (1947), 54. t See .4cta Sanctae Sedis, 18 (1886), 509. fewer were the benefits with which the P~oman Pon- :iffs promdted the devotion to the Sacrffd 'Heart of Jesus, devotion that was so greatly helped to its achievement its full and complete form and its universal propaga-aon by those matters whlcti~were~,made clear'to St. Mar-garet Mary Alacoque by Christ when He appeared to her showing her His Heart. With admirable unanimity the Roman Pontiffs have honored this religious practice not only by pointing out its power and its nature but also by declaring its legitimacy and by promoting its use through-out the entire world~a All this has been done in many public documents of the Church, the three most impor-tant of which are three encyclicals devoted' t6 this topic.4 As was only right, the consent and the approval of this Apostolic See were not lacking for the devotion to the Precious Blood of Christ, the remarkable promoter of which in the last century was St. Gaspar del Bufalo, priest of the Roman clergy. In this connection it will be remem-bered that at the command of Benedict XIV a Mass and an Office were composed in honor of the adorable Blood of the Divine Redeemer; Moveover, Plus IX, in order to fulfil a vow made to God at Gaeta, ordered this liturgical ¯ feast to be extended to the universal Church.5'Finally the Supreme Pontiff of happy memory, Pius XI, raised this feast to a double of the first class in order to per-petuate the memory of the jubilee which took place on the occasion of the nineteen hundredth anniversary of the' redemption of the human race. He did this because he was convinced that the increased solemnity of the feast would foster a deeper devotion to the~: Blood of the Re-deemer and that thereby more abundant effects of the same divine Blood would result for mankind. We were but~ following the example of Our predeces-sors when, in order that devotion to the Precious Blood of Christ, the immaculate Lamb, might grow an, d flourish, We approved its litanies as properly set forth by' the sacred .congregation8 and recommended to the entire Christian family the private and public recitation of the same by attaching to them special indulgences.7 Our de- 8 See the Of?ice o! the Feast of the Sacred Heart, Second Nocturn, Fifth Lesson. *The encyclical Annum sacrum in dcta Leonis, 19 (1899), 71 ft.; the encyclical Miserentissimus Redemptor in Acta Apostolicae Sedis, 20 (1928), 165 ft.; and the encyclical Haurietis aquas in Acta Aposto-licae Sedis, 48 (1956), 309 ft. ~See the decree Redempti sumus of August 10, 1849, in the Ar-chives of the Sacred Congregation of Rites, decrees for the years 1848--49, folio 209. e See Acta Apostolicae Sedis, 52 (1960), 412-13. ¢ Decree of the Sacred Apostolic Penitentiary of March 3, 1960, in Acta Apostolicae Sedis, 52 (1960), 420. 4. 4. 4- Devotion to the Precious Blood VOLUME 20, 1961 4. 4. John XXIII REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 6 cision in th~is matter, pertaining as it did to the solicitude for all the churches (see 1 (]or 11:28) which is proper to the .Supreme. Pontiff, was prompted by the hope that in these days of great and pressing spiritual needs the faith-ful might continue to increase their respect for those three forms of Christian piety which We previously praised and that they come to see them as possessing a perpetually salutary power of effectively promoting the spiritual life. Since the feast and month are now approaching which are dedicated to the Blood of Christ, the price of our re-demption and the pledge of a salvation and of a life that will never fail, the faithful should meditate on this Blood with renewed fervor and should partake of it by more frequent reception of the sacrament of the Eucharist. Il-luminated by the light which comes from the profitable admonitions of Sacred Scripture and from the precepts of the holy fathers and doctors of the Church, they should recall how abundant and limitless is the power of this truly Precious Blood, "one drop of which is able to wash the entire world from every sin," as holy Church sings t.hrough the lips of the Angelic Doctors and as was wisely confirmed by Our predecessor, Clement VI.0 The power then of the Blood of Christ, God and man, is infinite; infinite too is the love which moved our Re-deemer to pour it forth for us. This shedding of His Blood began .eight days after His birth when He was cir-cumcised. Later it was shed more copiously when being in agony in Gethsemani, He prayed the longer (see Lk 22:43), when He was scourged and crowned with thorns, when He climbed the hill of Calvary and was there affixed to the cross, and when at the end His side was opened by a great wound which was to be the sign of the divine Blood that flows out into the sacraments of the Church. All these events show that it is not only fitting but even highly necessary that all the hithful, reborn as they have been in the streams of this Blood, should adore it in a spirit of religious homage and should honor it with their love. It is most salutary and entirely fitting that the worship of adoration which is due to the chalice of the Blood of the new ~fid eternal testamefit, especially when it is ele-vated in the Eucharistic sacrifice for the worshipful gaze of the faithful, should be followed by the reception of that Blood. This is possible, because in the sacrament of the Eucharist the Blood of Christ is received since it~is joined by an indissoluble bond to His Body. Joined in mind with the priest, the faithful who attend" Mass can In the hymn ddoro te devote. See the bull Unigenitus Dei Filius of January 25, 1343, as cited in Denzinger-Rahner, n. 550. most properly repeat to themselves the words which the priest says at the time of his sacred Communion: "I will take the chalice of salvation and I will call upon the name of the Lord . The Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ guard my soul unto life e~ei:nal, Ameh." There can be no doubt that in this way the faithful, whenever they wor-thily approach the sacred synaxis, will receive a more abundant, share of those fruits of the redemption, of the resurrection, and of eternal life which the Blood offered by Christ "throu.gh the Holy Spirit" (Heb~9:14)~acquired fbr all the family of mankind:Nourished by the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ and sharing in that divine power of His which has raised up in the Church numberless ranks of martyrs, the faithful will find it easier to bear ~the labors and troubles of everyday life; and should it be necessary for the sake of Christian virtue~and the kingdom of God, they will even sacrifice their lives, for they will be burning with that ardent love which caused St. John Chrysostom to exclaim in his writings: "Let us come back from the table as lions, breathing fire, terrible to the devil, realizing who our Head i~ and how great a love He has shown for us . This Blood ~hen it is worthily re-ceived, drives out the devils and _calls to our side the angels and even the Lord of the angels.~. This Blood when it was poured forth Washed the entire world . It is the price of the world; it is that b~ which Christ bought His Church . These thoughts will moderate our passions. How long will we cling to present things? How long will we refuse to be aroused? How~lo.ng will we take no care of our salvation? Let us reflec( what honors God has be-stowed on us;.a.n.d then letus give thanks and give back glory not only by our faith but also by our deeds.''x° It is to be hoped that those ~ho are honored by the name of Christian will frequently consider the fatherly exhortation of the first Supreme Pontiff when he wrote: "Spend the time of your sojourn here in reverence, in the realization that you were redeemed not by gold or silver., but by the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot" (I Pet 1:17-19). May they also.listen closely to the Apostle of the Gentiles when he says: "You have been purchased at a great price. Glo-rify God then and carry Him in your body" (1 Cor 6:20). If all the faithful take these texts to heart, then their way of life by which they should be an example to others will become more noble and more fitting. Thus it will come about that the Church, strengthened by such virtue, will carry out its earthly task to the profit of the human race. Men, peoples, and nations will be joined by a close bond of brotherly love, if they will yield themselves to the move- See Homily 46 on the Gospel o] John in Migne, Patrologia Graeca, 59, 260-61. + + + Devotion to the Precious Blood VOLUME 20, 1961 ments of the grace of that God who wishes all men to be ¯ saved (see 1 Tim 2:4), who has willed the redemption of them all in the Blood of His only begotten Son, and who hag called all of them to become members of the one Mystical Body whose Head is Christ. Civil society itself will thereby enjoy a serene peace; and human nature, which was created to the image and likeness of its Maker (see Gen 1:26), will become yet more worthy of God. It was to a consideration of this lofty dignity to which mankind has been divinely called that St. Paul exhorted those converted Jews who were too much attached to the institutions of the Old Testament even though the latter was but a dim figure and image of the New Testament: "You have come to Mount Sion, to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, to the companionship of many thousands of the angels, tb the comunity of the first-born who are now citizens of heaven, to God, the judge of all things, to the spirits of the just who have been made perfect, to Jesus the mediator of the new covenant, and to a sprinkling of blood that is far more eloquent than that of Abel" (Heb 12:22-24). We are certain, venerable Brethren, that Our fatherly exhortation, when communicated in the way you judge best to you.r people and your clergy, will be put into salu-tary and effective execution in a spirit of willing coopera-tion. Accordingly as a sign of heavenly gifts and as a pledge of Our special benevolence, We impart in full charity Our apostolic blessing to each and every one of you as well as to your flocks, especially to those who carry out Our desires with devoted alacrity. Given at Rome in St. Peter's, the thirtieth day of June, on the vigil of the Feast~ of the Precious Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, in the year 1960, the second of Our pontificate. John XXIII REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS CHARLES A. SC.HLECK, C.S.C. The Sister in the Church When something good, nobie, and sublime is called into question or becomes obscure, it usually calls into existence an immense amount of thought,~reflection, and literature. Indeed, if we are to meet the demands of the situation fully and adequately, the whole matter of the entire reality must once more be subjected to a prolonged and meditative scrutiny. There is usually not so much a question of justifying its existence as there is of getting back to its roots, of elucidating and bringing into the light and clarity of the common vision the fundalnental and essential meaning of the institution in question. And this is especially true when this institution has been estab-lished by God or by His Church. What we feel in such a case is the need to see straight, or rather to see into the core and the heart of the reality itself. In the past such was true of several of the mysteries of divine revelation, the Incaination, fok example, the Trinity, grace, the divine motherhood. This calling of an institution into question together with" the consequent obscurity that almost destroys our appreciation of it has been common in our own day in the case of the Church herself, Mariology, the role of the laity in the Church, and Christian virginity or the religious sister in the Church. Consequently we witness today an outpouring of much labor, thought, and writing which, with more or less suc-cess, attempts in one way or another to penetrate into the divine reasons for the existence of such mysteries and their essential and basic meaning. And while each of these re-alities would certainly be a most interesting topic for our consideration, the one that is being singled out in the present .article is the institution of Christian virginity, or more precisely and exactly, the role of the religious sister in the Church. At the very outset we ought to note that one aspect of this vocation has rarely been called, into question or fallen into obscurity at least as far as the apostolic re- Thee Reverend Charles A. Schleck, C.S.C. teaches theology at Holy Cross College (seminary), 4001 Hare-wood Road N.E., Wash-ington 17, D.C. VOLUME 20~ 1961 9 ~. ~. sa,~, c.~.c. REVIE~ FOR RELIGIOUS lO ligious sister is concerned. And that is the utility, the contribution which such a vocation makes to one or other of the needs of our visible society. There are very few who would call into question the utility of the teaching, or of the care for the sick and the abandoned, or of the other spiritual and corporal works of mercy which form part and parcel of the various apostolates and missions entrusted to apostolic communities of religious women in the Church. In fact, the thought and the writing that has come forth in defense of the sister's vocation has tended to make this its principal and chief weapon. But when we come to another aspect of this vocation, one that touches the very soul of it and centers around the fundamental meaning of this vocation, then we find very few even among Catholics who understand what is perhaps the primary and basic mission of the sister in the Church. The proof of this, it seems, lies ih the fact that the question Ut quid perditio haec still remains in the minds of so many inside and outside the Church"To what avail is this loss of womanhood, this institution of virginity?" From the fact that this question mark still rematns and is even looming larger in certain areas of our country in spite of all the writing and speaking that has been done on the subject, we can conclude, without any kind iSf violence or exaggeration being done to the actual situation, that people by and large do not consider the collaboration in action with other institutions of so-ciety as a sufficient explanation of the vocation of the re-ligious sister. And that is a sobering thought; for these people are, perhaps, more right in their conviction or as-sumption than any of us ~ould be willing to admit. No, it is not the i'prose" of the sister's vocation that needs° clarification in the eyes of the world and in the minds of men, and perhaps even in tier own mind. It is rather the "poetry," so to speak, or the poetic symbolism of the life and mission of the sister in the Church that must be mole constantly and widely diffused both inside and ~outside the Church. For without that difftision we can not hqpe 'to make men see and love the vocation, the mission, or the role wl~ich God intends her to play in the Mystical Body Of the Church. We musi then ask ourselves the question: What is this "poetry" or this basic notion which lies at the very root of the sister's mission in the Chtirch? Only when we an-swer that question satisfactorily will we be able to di-minish and soften and, in the case of many, eliminate the objections which they raise against it. Only then can we hope to show those outside the Church and to very many inside, that the mission and the presence of the sister, far from being a block or an obstacle to the continuation of life, is itself a source of vitality and one of the most ex- cellent ins~truments by which the highest and most sub-lime form of life, if not perhaps begun, is nevertheless nourished, increased, protected, and safe-guarded, and most often formed and fashioned. The religious sister is ~v~fi tb the Church not:so much as a model or an image according to which other women must pattern their lives; neither is she given to the Church as a kind of living representation of the grace of the Christian life as it would .have been given Ito all. except by reason of some fault or' guilt on their part. No, she is given to the Church as a kind of sacrament,' a v,s~ble s~gn, a symbol of one, even of several mws,lble reahtles. To understand this assertion thoroughly, w,e need to re-call briefly the mysteries of the Trinity and of creation. In the first mystery, that of the Trinity, ~we know that God the Father communicates His own nature to God the Son, and these two persons~ commumcate this same nature to the Holy Spirit. Yet while all thre~ of these per-sons possess the one same divine nature, skill from our very limited vision this nature appears to take on differ-ent~ aspects when we consider one or other oflthese persons according to His distinctive properties or characteristics. We obtain a much clearer picture of the richness of each of the persons by linking up certain qualities or perfec-tions with which we are familiar, with one o~: other of the . divine persons. Thus itis by reason of the various kinds of processions which we find in this myster~ that we at- .~ tribute understanding to the Word of God Who proceeds by way of an operation of the divine intell~,ect; similarly we attribute love and affection to the Holy Spirit because He proceeds by way of an operation of theI divine will. In the second mystery, that of creation, God seems to have wished that His various perfections I~e manifested and shared in by many different creatures, each acc.ording to a very definite limitation, such that some would repre-sent Him more perfectly and more fully, than others. For only in this way could the fullness of His b~ing be made somewhat clear. When we focus our gaze on material creation, we see that only one creature came into being, made, as we are told, according to the lmage~ and likeness of God. Only one received a perfection or perfections which would enable it to know and to love ~;od, to share and participate in the most intimate opI e.rations of the Godhead. That creature was man. Or let ks say, it was human nature, possessed by two different~individuals who I reflect the riches of this nature in such d~ffe~ent ways that the fullness of the mystery of the human composite might stand'out the more clearly and might m,rror more per-fectly the riches of the Godhead. For we must not forget that man and woman also belong to those th.ings of which it was said by the Apostle: "From the foundations of the 4. ÷ ÷ The Sister in the Church VOLUME 20, 1961 II C. A. $chl~cl~, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS world, men have caught sight of His invisibl~ nature, his eternal power and his divinity as they are known through the things he has made" (Rom 1:20). In something of the way in which the divine nature was shared in by two person~ other than the Father, proceed-ing from Him and yet personally manifesting and empha-sizing different aspects (at least according to our imperfect vision), so too in the mystery of the human composite we see one nature shared in by two individuals who mani-fest in their whole make-up the distinct perfections of the rational creature. And just as the Word of God is the one to whom we attribute the intellectual operations of God while the Holy Spirit is the one to whom we apply the affective operations of God, so too (I do not mean to say that the parallel is entirely exact) man is the one in whom we see manifested more visibly the operations of the mind and the duties of the intellective side of our being, while woman is the one in whom we see manifested more visibly the operations of the will and the duties of the affective side of our being. Since all created beings are sent into the world as signs or "sacraments" in the broad sense of this word, and since man is an image of the Trinity, we might say that man and woman are visible signs and symbols of the intellec, tire and affective operations and perfections of God. Man is a sign or a "sacrament" more especially of God as truth, and woman is a sign or "sacrament" more especially of God as love. In a sense, then, we might say that man reflects more the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, the Word, while woman is more the reflection of the Third Person of the Trinity, the Holy Spirit. Now while it is true that the original plan of God was interfered with and that it was set right again only when the two persons proceeding from the Father were sent in mission to men, still it is precisely here--in relation to the fall and the two missions necessitated by it--that the "poetry" or the "sacramental" role and meaning of the religious sister begins to appear in all its dignity and sublimity. For when we consider the mystery of these two divine missions, we see that the Son of God was sent in mission to instruct men and to teach them the way of salvation. His function was to preach by word of mouth those mysteries and that knowledge of God which had been hidden from the foundation of the world. The Holy Spirit, on the other hand, was sent in visible mission only very briefly and for a different purpose. For He was sent both as a sign and as a kind of mother-principle. He was sent as a sign of sanctification, a sign of what the interior renovation which takes place within the soul in the state of grace actually is. In fact, the very creatures under which He appeared manifested this role: the dove and the fire. The one, the dove, manifested the innocence of sanctity, its caution, its fruitfulness, and its silence; while the other, the fire, manifested love and the knowledge proper to love, the wisdom of the heart. Moreover, the Holy. Spirit was sent as a kind of.mothe~:prlnclple, a pi~i~i~i~ '~f re-birth, to mold the human race into a new creature. This was the work He was to continue in a silent and hidden manner by acting as the soul, the vitalizing force and power of the Church, giving birth and life to the family of God. While it is true, then, that in the mystery of the Trinity the Holy Spirit is in a sense passive, since He is the term of a divine procession but not a principle of any further divine procession, still He does not remain passive. Rather He becomes active, most active, together with the Father and the Son in the work of sanctification or of what we might call the Trinification of the members of the family of ~God. This role of the Holy Spirit has certain affinities with the role of woman. Although, of the two individuals pos-sessing human nature, she embodies the characteristics of receptivity, acceptance, and submission, this does not mean that she is inactive or merely passive. The case is far otherwise. She receives or accepts, but only to give flesh and-blood, so to speak, to what she receives, to clothe it with the more sublime qualities of human nature. By reason of her entire being--her body, her soul, her powers of understanding, her capacity for affection, her aptitudes, and her inexhaustible devotion--she is made to mother the human race, to know it in all of its depths and.heights, its crudities as well as in its sublime potentialities. Thus, she has been endowed by God with a maternal instinct to form someone for family life, whether it be for the human family or for the family of God. In fact, this func-tion is one that she is not free to side-step; she is not free to isolate herself or to make her life self-cente~ed. For she exists for humanity; she is at its very foundations, not so much to direct and govern it, but rather to give it birth and to direct its initial steps in the pursuit of the human race's common goal. Woman exists, moreover, as an inspiration for all to seek the things that are above; likewise she is a sign of what this higher life actually is. She was given to man as a~companion, a helpmate to enable him to attain the sub-lime end for which he had been destined. And when she realizes the potentiality that lies within herself, she acts as a focal point or as an exemplar for the human race. Hence in the present economy of our existence, the divine idea of a complete human nature as something that trans-cends all difference of sex is better translated by woman than by man,, not only because her beauty excels that of ÷ ÷ ÷ The S~ ~ the ~hurch VOLUME 20, 1961 ~. A. $cltleck, ~.~. . REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 14 man, but also and especially because she presents an idea that is remarkable for the contraries which it unites-- somewhat as the activity of the Holy Spirit is presented to us in the Sequence for Pel~tecost, something like the ac-tivity of grace itself. For feminine nature presents us with an idea that is simple, yet very profound. She appears as one in whom we find a mingling of grace and gravity, of a smiling yet deep seriousness, of enjoyment and sacrifice, of song and silence, of purity and fecundity. It is in Mary' that we find the most perfect realization of this womanly' perfection. How the rest of womankind has realized this ideal and performed her role can be very readily seen by scanning the pages of history,, both sacred and profane; She has often led man away from God--she has often performed the role of the first Eve; and yet she has often led man back to his God---she has performed the role of the second Eve. Her influence ~has accompanied man. to near perfection, and it has also plunged him into an abyss of hate and despair. In fact, we can say that the destiny of man in his relationship with God depends to a great extent upon the silent directive force and power of wo-man, befit good or evil. Whether it be for good or evil de-pends very much upon her veil of mystery, her unassum-ing surrender to goodness and her willingness to share her time and her qualities with man in a spiritual or in a physical sense. Without her cooperative participation, the totality of human existence would become distorted and sterile. For her role in human existence will always be that of a bride, of a woman moving within the realm of man, not rejecting her veil which is a sign of her ac-ceptance, of her l~at mihi, not struggling to attain that which is properly man's, but surrendering her whole be-ing in an effort to make her contribution to the end result which is the unity of the human race with God. Like the Holy Spirit with whom she has a certain af-finity, woman is not only passive or receptive. She is com-municative, in fact, essentially communicative; and .like the person of love whom she represents, she tends to be-come dit~usive, 'to create or to prepare [or the members of the human family the best that this family contains in the depths of its own being--life, freshness, the poetry of love, fidelity, service, and care. It is only when woman actually lives or incarnates in her own life these characteristic marks of the Holy Spirit that she arrives at the fulfillment of her mission in crea-tion. And it is only in and through her arrival there that she attains that vision proper to wisdom, one that reaches from end to end seeing all things and judging all things according t° their proper place in the divine plan. It is only in the measure that she fulfills her role that she will be enabled to see the needs of souls, the needs of the Mys- tical Christ, and the destinies of the humffnfamily. For in proportion as her affective nature becomes more and more purified, she Will become more and more like to the person of the' Holy SpiriLwho, is personal love in the mystery of the Trlmty; and she-will be g,ven~that gift which is part and parcel of her vocation--wigdom and the divine vision which this implies. For as h~r'affections become purified, she learns~o .center herself and her life in God who will constantly infuse intd her a deeper love which is perfected by one 'of~His most precigm Sifts w~sdom. Thus we can say that'only in proportion as there grows in the woman the untarnished innocen~e~0f Mary the girl, will there also' grow in her the. deep compas-sionate gentleness and wisdom and.vision of Mary the mother, enabling her like Mary to cover the world with a silent and still co-redemption. Consequently, we can say that ~oman's vocation and mission is to imitate and continue partially at least and in a visible way the mission of the Holy Ghost--to mother the human race inits relatidnship with God by showing men that God isoa God of lov~ and that it is man's duty to find God not go much by r~ducing Him to our level of thought and limitatiofis, 'but rather/by going out of ourselves and in the" darkness Of a deep faith ~and trust, loving beyond what we see. M6reover, she was meant to be a perpetual sign to man of what the soul in the state of grace is--the bride of the L6rd. If this is the fundamental role of woman by her very nature, we should exPect that any furthervocation which she might be called upon"by God td exercise in the divine plan would not depart from this. Rather we would expect it to call her to a more perfect fulfillment of this funda-mental and basic role or vocation; for grace, as we hav~ so often heard, builds upon nature. It should come-as no surprise, then, that w~ should conceive of the religious vocation which lies at the very basis of the sister's way of life as a dall or an invitation from God much more than as an arbitrary decision on the 15art of a woman to enter the religious life. It is;' we might say, a special glance 'or grace which God Himself directs towards certain souls whereby He lifts thein from the realm of His common love and elevates them t6 that of His special love. We can say that if a woman goes out of the world in attempting to realize a religious vocatibn, she does not do so arbi-trarily; she does so onl~ in :response to an invitation by which God addresses her by'her first name, going beyond the common love which He shows otherg'and embracing her with His ~pecial love. A sister gods out of the world (and ~this is implied in the religious life) only became she has been given an-other task by almighty God/For she is given- to the Church The~ Sister in the Church VOLUME 20; 1961 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 16 and to mankind, not so much as a type or figure as we mentioned above, but rather as a sign in much the same way as the Holy Spirit was given to the world in His visible manifestation as a sign. And because she is given to the Church as a sign, her whole life must be, as it were, a kind of graphic picture or parable. For in her there was meant ~o become lifelike and instantly visible what in all others is usually kept secret and hidden. In her what is innermost in the Church of God is turned outward; and the City of God, which lies so concealed in others, becomes the town which is set upon the mountain--visi-ble for all to see. I am speaking, of course, of the life of man with God. It is this role which the sister constantly plays in the Church; we see it in the habi~ she wears, in the houses she lives in, the bearing which marks her per-son, and in the very disposition of her life. Her mission and vocation in the Church was meant to publish this truth: that this woman belongs entirely to God, that she lives only for Him and only with Him. This is, it seems, what the vocation of the religious sister was meant by God to signify; and the external marks which set it off from all other vocations (something like the plate of pure gold worn by the high priest of the Old Tes~tament) indi-cate immediately that the one belonging to this yay of life is set apart for the Lord. God knew that by reason of the fall the observance of the first and greatest commandment--to love God with one's whole heart and soul--would be most difficult to keep. For the mind of man, wounded by original sin, would tend to look downward; his heart would tend to become immersed in the things of time even though he be ordered to an eternal destiny. The sublime idea of union with God would be recalled and brought to birth in him only through what he saw or only through what he would in some way sense. God knew that if know.ledge would be had only through the instrumentality of the senses, through contact with visible things such as the spoken or the written word, then love would be recalled to man and begotten in him only t~hrough what he would in some way sense, only through some visible instrument; and in this case the love that would be recalled and be-gotten in him would be a share and participation in God's own love itself. It was for this reason that God instituted Christian virginity, and the Church ~gave this institution a very definite form in the religious life; *for the sister was to be a sign or a "sacrament," that is, a visible sign of an in-visible reality. It was one of the best possible ways of realizing and of answering the cry of the psalmist, "We no longer see the signs," which you have placed before us, Lord. While a sister is a sign of many things---of the fact that God exists, of the fact that He can touch a soul in a most intimate way, of the fact that He can ask a soul, or rather demand of 'it as it were~ 'to live for Hi~n ~lone-- still the sister is above all according to the divine~plan a sign of a yet greater mystery, 'For her mlssxon was set up by God to signify that He is love, that He is one who loves and can be loved. She was meant to indicate perpetually, not so much in her own individual person as in the insti-tution which she incarnates, that man is called to experi-ence God's personal love, that a human soul is called to be the bride of the Lord. This explanation is not just ~ sentimental, metaphor; it is something, which fias been constantly re-echoed in the literature of the Church--in the figure of the Church herself as the ,immaculate spouse of Christ, in the person of the bride of the Canticle of Canticles, in the figure of the chosen people as the Jerusalem or Sion of the Old Testament, in the.figure of Mary, and in the figure of the New Jerusalem who is said by St. John in the Apocalypse to be sent down from heaven by God all clothed like a bride who has adorned herself in readiness to meet her husband (Apoc 21:2). It is in fact rather clearly indicated there that the new Jerusalem is a figure of the Church and of the individual members of this Church, each of whom is called to be the bride of the bridegroom who is the Lamb (Apoc 21:9). There is, we might say, a common desire in the Church to see this heavenly Jerusalem or to catch some glimpse here on earth of the soul that is ready to enter into glory or who already participates in vision. In the sister that desire was to be fulfilled. For while it is true that the re-ligious profession taken together with the reception of both man and woman is essentially the same, a represen-tation of an eschatological state, nevertheless it is only in the case of tlie sister, because she is a woman, that one of the principal effects--the closest possible union with God---is brought out most strikingly and unmistakably. The man's consecration to God is considered to be a kind of second baptism, a ceremony in which his death to the world and his resurrection unto God is signified. But in the case of the woman, the ceremonies taken in their en-tirety form a kind of marriage rit~, a marriage in which she unites herself to the God-man as His bride. Conse-quently only the sister is able to signify in her very being and. person the marriage of the Christian with God, be-cause only she cfin be by nature a bride. The veil and, in some cases, the ring that she receives at the time of her profession were meant to be a perpetual reminder both to herself and the world that there is another world of r.eality that lies far beyond the surface vision which takes up the thoughts and the attention of the majority of men. 4- + The Sister in the Church VOLUME 20, 1961 17 ÷ ÷ ~,. A. $chleck, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 18 The excellence of this marriage over that of the sacra-ment lies in the immediacy of the union with Christ the God-man as well as in the permanence of the bond that is established at that time. For we kno~ that in the re-ligious profession a woman unites herself' immediately to Christ, whereas in Christian marriage, She unites herself only. mediately to Him, through the intermediary of a human creature who represents Christ for her. The bond of the religious profession, moreover, is not dissolved at death; rather it is 'one that realizes its full meaning and significance not here on earth but only'in eternity since it is the reward of virgins alone tO follow, the Lamb whithersoever He goes in the everlasting hills. It is in this way that a sister is a visible and constant symbol to the world of the sublime privilege and destiny which rests upon all human souls--to be a bride in search of the bridegroom. Sublime though this role of the sister is, there is yet another one which is not merely attached to this destiny of being a bride of Christ, but is its natural outcome. We know that in and through human marriage the bride as-sumes the interests 'and the concerns of the ~bridegroom. Consequently, in the marriage signified by the'religious reception and profession of the sister, she assumes the in-terests and concerns of eternal love, of God who is infinite love. Thus her love is not only not annihilated by her profession, but it is given new life and becomes much more dynamic and extensive than that which is had be-tween two persons united to each other through Christian marriage. It is meant to assume the status arid proportions' of the love of the God-man Himself. If the bride reflects the interests and the concerns of the bridegroom, she does so in a very definite way in accordance with her own na-ture. Since this nature is feminine, she rel~resents God as love and she reflects the concern of God for souls in a ma-ternal way. in fact, we can say that the maternal office or role for which she is created is not only not annihilated in her profession but is brought to its highest and most perfect fulfillment because she exercises it over a greater number of souls and with respec~t to the highest life that can be given to a creature, a share in the life of God Him-self. This is as it should be. For a natural desire, one that is implanted in a creature by God Himself, must be capa-ble of being ftilfilled and must be fulfilled in some way or other if that creature is to realize its highest possible perfection. In calling the sister ~o her vocation, the highest voca-tion to which a woman could aspire in the Church, God will not--I think that "we can say can not---destroy this aspiration which lies deep in the very make-up of every woman. Rather He will bring it--He must bring it--pro- vided there is no'obstacle on her part--to its fullest and most perfect realization. To be pure and untouched~oand wholly consecrated to God and yet to have the heart and soul of.a mother is the unique wonder of Mary; and,it is also at the very heart and m);s'te~ 0f the sister's ,~6cation. It is a grace which is given to her initially in the grace of vocation itself, in much the same way as the fruit of the tree is given already in the very seed of the tree. And that grace will die or grow in the sister in the same measure or proportion as the grace of vocation dies or grows in her heart. It is of this also that a sister is a continuing sign or symbol to the world---that only a virgin motherhood is' compatible with~ a~_divine motherhood, that is, one that has as the whole purpose of its existence to lift up the souls of its children to :God, Just as Mary became filled with,grace and,superabundant 'in it, so to9 the sister is called to something similar--to be filled ~with grace but in such a way that she not only receives it but commtini-cates ,and diffuses it' to others as .a mother communicates and diffuses life to her children. Consequently, the.phrase which the Church in her liturgy.applies to Mary can also be applied in a certain sense to her: "And ~having the honor of virginity, you have also the joyof'motherhood," I think that it is true to say ,that only this understand-ing and presentation of the sister's, role in .the Church will make it more meaningful for her and restore it to its rightful place of: excellence~among the ways of life that lie"open to the faithful. For unless there is ~a deep faith and conviction in her marriage with Christ and in her spiritual motherhood, ~ the deeper motivating forces of, her vocation c~)uld easily remain somewhat obscured"and the consequent fruit of her apostolate diminished. And unless the missiofi' of the sister is presented to all the faithful during the years of their academic training and instruction,.espeCially in high schools and colleges, not by means of a ~¢il~d of "fly,by~nigh~" program but by one that openly juxtaposes it to marriage and presents it in all of its fullness, with its beauty, excellence, and joys, to-gether with its peculiar trials and difficulties, the question Ut quid perditio haec? spoken of above.will remain in the minds of a great many of the faithful and continue to ;. serve' as a parent,al objection to the very vocation itself: For all the attractiveness and beauty which this picture of the sister's mission in the Church might present, there° is one warning that might be voiced before c6ncluding, a-warning which becomes ever more necessary as the prog-ress of our technical civilization moves on with the.speed of an object drawn by the pull of gravity.And that is that 'the sister as well as the institution which she incar-nates must not fail to hold up the mystery of the cross-- in schools, in vocation literature, and above all in ,the The Sister in the C~hurch VOEUME 2~ 1961 19 4. + C. A. Schleck, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 20 actual living of the religious life itself. The presence of this sign of contradiction, its mystery, its sorrow and its joy, must always be the very basis of her way of life. For the essence of the religious life is "to go out from the world." Consequently, the religious sister is to bear in mind that here on earth she is called upon to fulfill the obligations of a bride and .a mother. The privileges and the rewards that shall be hers--that of "following the Lamb whithersoever He goes" and that of ~eeing "her sons coming from afar off and her daughters rising up at her side" (see Apoc 14:4; Is 60:3 ff.)--are reserved for eternity: These will be hers only if she has understood and accepted at the very outset of her religious life and has observed ever more faithfully during it the injunction of St. Ambrose: "The root and the flower of virginity is a crucified life.". It is this life, together with all that it implies in the case of the woman--silence and stillness and hiddenness especially--that is necessary not only for this vision to remain throughout her life but also for it to grow and to reach to new extensions and heights so that all the various lights and shadows of its beauty might appear in all their fullness, richness, and splendor. Such a vision of the "Word breathing forth love" as St. Thomas says (Summa tkeologiae, .1, 43, 5, ad 2), can be purchased only where there is lived and practiced prayer and disci-pline. These requirements have today made the vocation of the religious sister especially difficult. For the growing demands of her apostolate in the world along with the almost imperceptible infiltrations of elements foreign to her. vocation which such an apostolate often implies, could easily diminish and even destroy the possibility of retaining and developing this vision. If she remains faith-ful, however, to a constant and personal practice of these requirements, she will enable herself to fulfill her two-fold role, that of being a virgin in search of Christ and that of being a mother in whose conceptions no sin is passed on to the offspring, but only grace, only a share in the life of God Himself. Like freshly fallen snow on a mountain she will lift her gaze.only to God; and yet under the heat of the sun (which stands for the activity of'the Holy Spirit) she will melt and give life-giving water to those who dwell in the fields and valleys below. And he who drinks of this water shall never thirst, but it will become to him "a fountain of living water springing up unto life everlasting" (Jn 4:14). In conclusion we might sum up very briefly what we have attempted to give in these few pages. A religious sister leaves the world to become a sign or symbol, repre-senting God to men and men before God. For God loves humanity in her person, and in her person humanity gives its loving answer back to God. This, I think, is the mission given to the sister both by God and by the Church. When she returns to the world in the exercise of her apostolate, regardless of what this might be, she does so primarily as a sxgn, a symbol of the pasclial mysterxes, of tiuman na-ture's death to sin and resurrection unto God. In her case, this resurrection will be not so much unto light and knowledge as unto love. We know, that no apostolate, no vocation has any real meaning except in some relation to communication of life through light or through love. In the case of the religious sister it is in ke~eping with her very nature that the communication be more often predominantly through love; and even when it is through light, through the instruction of youth, it will be a spread-ing of vision in and through the warmth of love. Therein lies the "poetry" or the sacramental meaning and the divine design for the sister's mission, a mission whose fullness and richness and meaning must be made known to the world today; for it presents the solution to the needs of our day a constantly deeper interiorisation of doctrine and life, a flowering of the contemplative spirit, and an intense outpouring of charity and love. It is true that the world of today needs a rational theology; yet before it can become capable of this theology, it needs the vision which lies behind it, the vision wfiich made the very Summa of Aquinas seem like so much straw--the vision of eternal light that loves and is love. This role, this mission, this need for the presence of the sister in the Church has been very well indicated by a passage from one of the works of St. John of the Cross: 0 Lamps of fire, in whose resplendent light the deepest caverns where the senses meet,- erst steeped in dark-ness dire, Blaze with new glories bright, and to the lov'd one give both light and heat. Living Flame of Love, Stanza 3 This is the work of the Spirit and it is also the mission of the sister in the Church. And so in the end we come back to the beginning. The sister's apostolate or primary mission is very much like that of the Holy S15irit with whom she has a very definite affinity--to diffuse within the souls of men the gift of created love which is the com-mon bond uniting us with God and with each other in the friendship of divine charity or in the community of love which is the Church. If the sister fulfills tfi~t mission, on the day of her entrance into eternity she will merit to hear the words which the Prophet addressed to the new Jerusalem many centuries ago: "Arise, O Jerusalem, and stand on high, and behold the joy that comes to thee from thy God" (Bar 4:36; 5:5). 4- 4- The Sister in,- the Church VOLUME 20,, 1961 JEAN GALOT, S.J. Thanksgiving After Holy Communion, + ÷ + The Reverend Jean Galot, S.J. is Professor of Dogmatic Theology at Coll~ge Saint-Albert, Eegenhoven - Louvain, Belgium. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 22 In recent years it seems that some observers have no-ticed a decline in personal thanksgiving after Holy Com-munion. 1 The liturgical too;cement would seem to have led some of the faithful, including priests, to neglect any prayer which is not official, liturgical prayer, or prayer with a community flavor. On the other hand; the publi-cation b~y Father Karl Rahner of two articles on the theo-logical justification for thanksgivings gives us an oppor-tunity to reconsider this aspect of Holy Communion. We would like to do this not only from the standpoint Of prac-tice, but also doctrinally. Firstly, we shall ask what connection there is between thanksgiving and the Mass. In particular, is it correct to say that thanksgiving has only minor importance because Mass is it.self essentially a thanksgiving? Then we shall look at the reason usually given for making a thanksgiv-ing; namely, the continuation of the real presence of Christ in the communicant. But is this, in fact, the chief justification for the practice? Finally, there are some conclusions about the length of the thanksgiving and the manner of making it. Having a better understanding of Holy Communion and of its effects in us will lead us to see the attitude it requires of the communicant. By t~he end of this study it is hoped that the great im-portance of the matter in all religious formation will be ,apparent. This is the year of the Eucharistic Congress which has as its theme "Pro mundi vita" [For the life of the world], and it is also the fiftieth anniversary of St. Plus X's decree on the Communion of small children. It would be rewarding were the thoughts here outlined to contribute in any way to a fresh development Of Eucharis-, uc p~ety. . x This article originall~ appeared in Revue des Communautds Re. ligieuses, 32 (1960), 73-86. The translation is by Rev. D. Brigstocke, s.J. *"Danksagung nach der hl. Messe," Geist und Leben, 32 (1959), 180-89, 442-48. Thanksgiving Completes Our Participation in the Mass It is very t~ue that the whole Mass is a thanksgiving. The expression Eucharist~.makeS this clear. The word was applied by the primitive Church to the sacr~iment which Jesus instituted at the Last Supper; and the reason may be found in St. Luke and St, Paul: when He consecrated the bread, Christ "gave thanks" .(Lk 22:19; 1 Cot 11:24). It is the attitude which distinguished Christ at this capi-tal moment that has given its name~ to the sacrament. In memory of. Christ His '~disciples have likewise "given thanks" to God by repeating the gesture of consecration,3 ~How is this characteristic attitude to be interpreted? To give thanks is to thank God and to adopt the disposi-tions ofsomeone who has received everything from Him, and is glad to offer Him everything in return. At the moment of the Last Supper, Christ wished, to proclaim that He held everything from the: Father, hnd at,the same time He wanted to make a complete offering of Himself to the Father in a way .which would for ever perpetuate His oblation on Calvary. By this, thanksgiving, which is intended to be an act of total homage to the Father, the bread is blessed;~ it is consecrated because, being ,offered to God, henceforth it belongs to Him; it becomes the in-strument of divine blessings. The thanksgiving is an obla-tion, and the blessing of the bread is the sign of this obla-tion, its material symbol This is as much as to say that one must n6t have too restricted an idea of thanksgiving, confining it tO an outburst of gratitude alone. It signifies a return to God of what He has given to man. It is .a "Thank you" which is expressed by a profound offering of the self. If the Mass is to be called a thanksgiving, then it is within this very broad meaning of the word. Those who take part in the Mass have to acknowledge with. Christ that they h~ve received everything from the Father and that with Him they present to the Father all that has been bestowed upon them. They do this by uniting their offer-ing,' which should l~e as complete as possible, with that of the Savior, Does this mean to say that fervent.participation in,the Mass, with this attitude of thanksgiving, makes a thanks-giving after Holy Communion secondary or only slightly useful? We might notice that Father Rahner, while put-aFor the employment of the term Eucharist in the prim~itive Church an~d especially in St. Justin see P. Batiffol,'L'Eucharistie, la prdsence rdelle et la transsubstantiation, "l~tudes d'histoire et de th~o-logie positive," 2nd series; J.-A. ~Jungmann, Missarum Sollemnia, I, 45 ft. ~In St. Matthew (26:26) and St. Mark (14:,22) the equivalent of "having given thanks" is "havin~,g blessed." 4, Thankagiving Holy vo,.u~E ~o. ÷ ÷ ÷ ~ean Galot, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ting in the first place the thanksgiving constituted by the Mass itself, maintains that thanksgiving after Holy Com-munion means much and is truly recommendable. And if one thinks of the personal participation by the priest or the faithful in the Mass, with all that this sharing de-mands, it cannot be said that thanksgiving has only sec-ondary importance. For its role is to complete partici-pation in the Mass, and to ensure the full fruit of this participation. In fact, participation in the sacrifice of the Mass reaches its culmination in Communion. This is the sacrificial meal. Certainly the sacrifice has its value on its own. Once the Consecration has taken place the essence of the sacri-fice has been accomplished, with its worth ex opere operato applied to the intentions for which the Mass is celebrated. But in the sacramental order the personal participation by the priest or faithful in the sacrifice of Christ remains essentially insufficient so long as it has not ended in Communion. This remains true, however fer-vent the will to unite oneself with the Offering and the Consecration.5 The object of Holy Communion is the full association in the Savior's sacrifice of those who are present at the sacramental renewal of this sacrifice. It unites them to Christ's offering in virtue of an efficacity ex opere operato different from that of the Consecration, and which completes the latter by acting in each com-municant individually. This sacramental efficacity may be explained in other terms by saying that here it is no longer the member of the faithful who tries simply to unite himself to the sacrifice of Jesus, albeit his efforts are sustained by grace; it is Jesus Himself coming to unite the Christian to His sacrifice. He comes to incorporate the individual with His sacrifice, and He does so by a divine power enabling the fa!thful to offer that which human weakness would have precluded. This sacramental incor-poration in the sacrifice may be translated in terms of thanksgiving: by Holy Communion Christ comes to in-corporate the faithful into His own supreme thanksgiving --a thanksgiving repeated at each Mass and which in-cludes the offering of His death. Christ associates the Christian with Himself, placing him in this situation of giving thanks. The sacramental efficacity of this incorporation, while it proceeds essentially from the divine strength of Christ, depends also upon the dispositions of the faithful. As with the rest of the sacraments, the effect ex opere operato of Holy Communion does not dispense the faithful from cooperating with grace. Christ gives Himself with His 5 Cf, the Council of Trent (DB 944) encouraging the faithful to sacramental communion at each Mass they attend. omnipotence, but the soul still has to open itself to Him and welcome Him. This attitude of welcome, this opening of the self and subjective fervor will have an influence upoh the fruits of Communibn. Here it is that we discern':the'i~nportance 6f'indi~,idual thanksgiving after Holy Communion. The Christian really has to "receive, Christ in such a way as to allow Christ to incorporate Him fully into His own sacri,fice. In order to be able to receive Christ in this way, one has to pay attention to Him, try to show Him the sentiments of welcome that He deserves, .and make ohe's own the thanksgiving that Christ brings with Him. This can only be achieved in those moments~ of recollection When a cer-tain intimate dialogue occurs. The time of thanksgiving after Holy Communion is the moment when all that has happened at the altar enters deeply into the soul of the Christian in order to transform it. At this moment the communicant yields himself to that immense giving of thanks which was the theme of the Savior's sacrifice. He commits himself personally to this thanksgiving by allowing Christ to penetrate to his. fur-thest depths, and by devoting all his powers as a man, his ability to reflect and to will, to the work of extending the Savior's reach within him. Thus, thanksgiving after Holy Communion is not a simple movement of personal piety which just happens to be added to a liturgical action in itself fully sufficient. It~is not a complement, with value only secondary. It is the reception and welcome of the liturgical and sacramental action, a welcome without which this liturgical action could not produce in the com-municant that which one has a right to expect. True--the thanksgiving is individual. It has to be, because it signi-fies a personal welcome given to the coming of Christ, and it has all the more worth in proportion as the depths of the personality are engaged. But this individual com-plement is claimed by Holy Communion and therefore by the liturgical action of the community which is the Mass. Besides, while remaining an act of the individual, the thanksgiving allows the member of the faithful to rise to a higher le~,el of community charity. It does this pre-cisely because in Holy Communion the Christian wel-comes to himself the love of Christ. . There is, therefore, no reason for neglecting thanks-giving after Holy Communion, or for holding that it is an act of private piety which we may omit at will. On the contrary, it is the ordinary completion of 'the Mass. Its importan.ce is not less for not being found among the prayers that the priest recites officially. By its very essence the thanksgiving has to be something intimate,~ a reaching-out and utterance of the soul; and as such it gua,rantees the full effect of the Mass in each of the faithful. + Thanksgiving A.~e~ Holy Commumon VOLUME 20, 1961 ~e~ ~, sJ. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Thanksgiving and the Real Presence of Christ For some time after Communion the sacramental pres-ence o£ the bod~ o£ Christ remains in us.~ It is difficUlt to decide the exact duration o£ this presence, but it does not cease be£ore the dissolution o~ the species. Accord.oing to some medical opinion, a small host in a healthy stom-ach does not corrupt before haft an hour.7 On the other hand, it is even more 'important to notice that this bodily presence o~ Christ in the communicant is given essentially £or a spiritual action, and more speCially £or a spiritual presence o~ Christ in u~. For Christ comes to nourish us spiritually. Father Rahner has good reason £or insisting upon the spiritual pregen.ce o~ Christ that Holy Communion produces. Thinking o~ the Eucharist, St. Paul Spoke about "spirit-ual food" and "spiritual drink" (1 Cor 10:3-4). He un-derstood the efficacity o£ the Eucharist as being o£ the spiritual order because, to speak more precisely, this effi-cacity was due to the Holy Spirit: "in 6ne Spirit we have all been made to drink" (1 Cor 12:13). According to these views, it is not the Bgdy or the Blood of Christ, as such, in their simple material reality, which operates in the communicant, but the Holy Ghost whom they bear. St. Paul was ectioing Christ's teaching. In the l~romise o~ the sacrament a's St. John recounts it, the Master had under-lined the spiritual nature o~ the etticacity of the Eucharist: "Only the spirit gives li£e; the flesh :is of no avail" (Jn 6:63). By itseff the flesh would be powerless to exert any sanctifying activity; it is only through the Spir!t that it can act in this way. In order to better understand the connection which exists between the Eucharistic body and the Holy Ghost, we should recall that the Body present in the Eucharist is the glorifie.~d Body o[_.the Savior. It is His risen Body. It is true that th.is Body is giv~en to us in a ~sacrifice. But the sacrifice, While it renews the offering of Calvary, renews too the completion of this offering and' its acceptance by the Father: :that is to~ say, the glorification o~ Jesus. That is why the Mass omme'mbrates not only the Passion~ but . e Father Rahner has put £orward a new theory~ according to which 'the real presence would cease [xom the moment of communicating, because from that instant the species of bread can no longer be con-sidered as food, being .no longer eatable. According to him there would begat this moment the equivale.nt of corruption of sp.ecies'. In' principle, however, tradition considers that physical corruption of ~ ¯ the species must occur before the real presence ~ceases. One might!! also add that the species of bread do. continue to be a nourishment' I even ~fte'r actual manducation, and so they remain the sign 6f the I real presence. Therefore the presence of the Body of Christ certainly I persists after the ~ctual°moment of communicating. ~ C~. Cardinal Gasparri, Tract. canonicus de Sanctissima Eucha- I ristia, (1897), n. 1194~ also the Resurrection and Ascension. Without the Resur-rection and the Ascension the sacrifice would be neither perfect nor consummated. Therefore, at the moment-of consecration it is the risen Body of Christ that becbmes present on the altar, and\in,.Holy Commufii61i~,iit is this risen Body which the faithful receive. Now the charac-teristic feature of the glorified humahity of Christ is that of being filled with the Holy Spirit,.and of b.eing able to transmit and communicate thissame Spirit.,At the Resur-rection the Body of Christ was tr~a~stormed and spirit-ualized by the Spirit. So it is that St. Paul considers the risen Christ as He who possesses the Hgly Spirit, and who bestows Him for our sanctification,s "The last Adam was made into a quickening spirit" 0 Cor" 15:45). This Pauline teaching is based on the testimony of the Gospel itself, which shows us in the risen Chyist Him who says.to His apostles, "Receive ye the Holy Ghost" (Jn 20:22), and above fill Him who sends, the Ho.ly Spirit to all the disciples on the day of Pentecost (Lk .24;49; cf. Act The reception of the glorious flesh of Christ in the body of the communicant produces as a consequence a general pervasion by the Holy Spirit. Before all let us notice that the Holy Ghost does not veil the presence-of Chr!st, as though He were an intermediary acting as a screen. On the contrary, He causes the ~piritual diffusion of this p~es-ence; it is He who causes the action and love of the Savior to penetrate the soul. It is through Him that the presence of Christ gr6ws deeper and more intimate. It is this spiritual action of the bodily presence of the Savior in the communicant that demands the latter's cooperation if that action is to be exercised fully. It fol-lows that this spiritual action requires the most fervent thanksgiving possible. We are now in a position to define more exactly the role of thanksgiving. For our part, i.t is the welcome to the bodily presence of Jesus as a presence which acts in a spiritual manner and thus penetrates the soul. It is, be-sides, traditional to think of thanksgiving along these lines: the Christian who has just communicated addresses himself to Christ present in his heart, Christ who. has reached and penetrated into his very soul. The communi-cant desires to make some answer to this spiritual pres-ence. This concentration of attention upon the spiritual presence of Christ should not lead to the conclusion that the bodily presence is without importance. The spiritual presence is bound up with the bodily presence:. ,we have recalled that it is the glorious Body of Christ that is the s Cf. F. X. Durrwell, La Rdsurrection de ]dsus, myst~re de salut, (Paris: 1949), pp.,196-23. 4- 4- 4- Thanksgiving Alter ltoly Communion VOI~UME 20, :1961 ÷ ÷ ÷ lean Galot, SJ. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 28 bearer of the Spirit. In th6 rest of the Sacraments there is an action by the Holy Spirit, together with an infusion of grace; the Eucharist is the only sacrament wherein we receive not only grace, but the author of grace. In it we receive the spiritual presence of Jesus after a fashion that ig quite exceptional, arising from the fact that this pres-ence is the immediate result of the presence of His Body within us. It is this bodily presence which guarantees the spiritual presence at its highest pitch, together with spiritual nourishment, Thanksgiving after Holy Com-munion has as its object the spiritual assimilation of the presence of Christ. The Duration of Thanksgiving According to what principle should we determine the lengt.h of thanksgiving? Father Viller writes, "It is nor-mal for it to last as long as the Eucharistic presence of our Lord remains in us.''9 But it is quite legitimate to enquire with Father Rahner whether this criterion is fully justified. To begin with, certain inconveniences arise when we seek to measure the duration of the thanksgiving by the duration 'of Christ's bodily presence in the com-municant. If, as Cardinal Gasparri states on medical evi-dence, a small host remains in the stomach for not less than half an hour, and a large one for an hour, then this p~i~sistence of the species will in any case require a very long thanksgiving. Besides, were this criterion to be adopted, it would be for doctors and biologists to decide upon the length of the thanksgiving. In addition to this, such a criterion does not appear to be founded on the true nature of the thanksgiving. The proper object of the latter is not the reception of the Body of Christ in the stomach, but the reception of the total Christ by the soul. We are not dealing with an assimilation by the body of the Body of Christ, but with a reception and assimilation "of His spiritual presence. We have tried to stress that the bodily presence of Christ is designed to give us His spiri-trial presence more comp.letely and immediately. Since the role of the thanksgiving is to open the heart or the soul to this spiritual presence of the Savior, its duration should be measured by the amount of time nor-mally needed if such'a welcome is to occur. It should be long enough to allow the person of Christ to exercise His action in the soul of the communicant and to fill it with His life in the measure that He Himself wishes. What 'must take place is a penetration of our intelligence and will and sentiments by this presence, and there must also be a personal effort to achieve this intimate relationship with Christ. No absolute norm can be given for achieving Communion (pratique), in Dictionnaire de Spiritualitd, II, 1282. this, simply because one has to take into account the sub-jective dispositions of each individual. But in general spiritual writers think that about a quarter of an hour is good measure for most. This isJong enough to ach,,ieve the degree of recollection whi~li ig n~ssary if profound con, tact is to be made. with the person of the Savior, and if the depths of the soul are really to be opened to Him. Certainly it would be arbitrary to declare that the last prayers of the Mass are a sufficient thanksgiving after Holy Communion, and that once the litUrgical action has been completed there is no need to prolong the prayer which should act as an echo to the.sacrament just received. On the contrary, itmay be said in general that the mere fact of following the prayers 6f the priest up to the ending of Mass is not sufficient to afford Christ th~ intimate and personal welcome which His Eucharistic. presence asks of us. It is to be regretted that there are those.who syste, m~tically favor the departure of the faithful as~.soon as Mass h~s ended. If there are many lives in wl~ich frequent reception of Holy Communion fails to produce the fruit that might be expected, may this not be because the welcome offered tq the Eucharistic Christ is not fervent enough, and because the thanksgiving which should lie the surge of a° personal. love is too brief and superficial? It has already been no-ticed that sacramental efficacity ex opere operato requires man's cooperation if it is to have its full effect. Father Rahner writes that this efficacity eX opere ope-rato cannot be increased by the thanksgiving, and that it simply depends upon the disposition of the soul at the moment of Communion. He adds that if this disposition exists it will in fact be manifested by a meditative and recollected thanksgiving,xo But if it is true that strictly speaking the thanksgiving does not augment the efficacity ex opere operato, it does none the less allow th.is effic~city to be. exercised in the fullest measure desirable. It is not only at the precise moment of communicating that 'the bodily presence of Christ produces its spiritual action. This is continued later. It will be fully efficacious to the degree that the soul yields itself to it in thanksgiving, attempting to respond by faith and love. The length of the thanksgiving does influence the efficacity of the sacra-ment, seeing that normally a certain time is called for if a welcome is to be considered fervent. It is therefore un-derstandable that the Church should recommend a thanksgiving which goes on after the Mass has ended. In this connection it is worth citing from Mediator Dei. As this encyclical is expressly concerned with the liturgy, it ~o Rahner op. cir., pp. 186-87. ÷ + + Thanksgiving A~ter Holy o~munio~ VOLUME 20, 1961 29 ÷ ÷ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 30 is particularly noteworthy that it should stress the per-sonfil thanksgiv.ing d~manded by the liturgy. When the Mass, which is subject to special rules of the liturgy, is over, ~the person who has received Holy Communion is not thereby freed from his duty of thanksgiving; rather; it is most becoming that, when the' Mass is finished, the person who has received the Eucharist should recollect himseif, and in intimate union with the divine Master hold loving and fruitful converse with Him. Hence they have departed from the straight way of truth: who, adhering to the letter rather than the sense,~assert and teach that, when Mass has ended, no such thanksgiving should be added, not only because the Mass is itself a thanks-giving, 'but also because this pertains to a private and personal act of piety and not to thegood of the community. But, on the contrary, the very .nature of the sacrament de-mands that its reception should produce rich fruits of Christian sanctity. Admittedly~the congregation has been officially dis-missed, but each individual, Since he is united with Christ, should not interrupt the hymn of praise in his own soul, "al-ways returning thanks for all in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ to God the Father" (Eph 5: 20). The sacred liturgy of the Mass also exhorts us to do this when it bids us pray in these . words, "Grant, we beseech thee, that we may always continue to offer thanks" (Postcommunion, Sunday Within the Octave of Ascension) " .and may never cease from praising thee" (Postcommunion, First Sunday after Pentecost), Wherefore, if there i~"no time when we-must not offer God thanks, and if we must never cease from praising Him, who would dare to reprehend or find fault with the Church, because she advises her priests (canon 810) and faithful to converse with the divine Redeemer for at least a~ short while after Holy Communion, and inserts in her liturgical books, fitting, prayers, enriched with indulgences, by which the sacred mlmsters may make suitable preparati6n before Mass and Holy Communion or may return thanks afterwards? So far is the sacred liturgy from re-stricting the interior devotion of individual Christians, that it actfiaily fosters and promotes it so that they may be rendered like to Jesus Christ and through Him be brought to the heavenly Father; wherefore this same discipline of the liturgy demands that whoever has partaken of thd sacrifice of the altar should return fitting thanks to God. For it is the good pleasure of the di;gin~ Redeemer to hearken to us when we pray, to converse witfi us intimately and to offer us a refuge in His loVing Heart. Moreover, such personal colloquies are very necessary that we may all enjoy more fully, the supernatural treasures that are contained in the Eucharist and, according to our means, share them with others, so that Christ our Lord may exert the greatest possible influence ofi the' souls of all. Why then, Venerable Brethren, should we not approve of those who, when they receive Ho!y Communion,~ remain on in clbsest familiarity with' their divine Redeemer even after the congregation has been"officially dismissed, and that not only for~the consolation of conversing with Him, but also to render Him,due thanks and praise and especially to ask help to defend their souls against anything that may lessen the efficacy of the sacrament and to do everything in their power to cooperate with the action of Christ who is so intimately present. We exhort. them to do so in a special manner by carrying out their resolu-tions, by exercising the Christian virtues, as also by applying to their own necessities the riches they have received with royal liberality. The author of that golden book The Imitation of Christ certainly speaks in accordance with the letter and the spirit of the liturgy, when he gives the following advice to the person who approaches the altar, "Remain on in secret and take delight in your God; for He is yours whom the whole world cannot take away from you" (4 [12).Xffr," ~" ,~ The Manner o[ Making the Thanksgiving The very first principle is that of personal liberty. The same way cannot Be laid down for everyone, and there is no universal formula. Wffat is important above all is that in this meeting with Christ the soul should express itself personally. One cannot, then, lay it down as a hard and fast rule that the best way to make a thanksgiying is to follow the priest in the prayers he says towards the end of Mass. Besides, taken from the point of view of giving thanks, it must be admitted that in the Roi'han Rite these prayers are very brief and only slightly' d.eveloped. Cer-tainl); at Masses where the congregation sings or pub-licly recites the pray+rs, this activity will be shared by tl~0se who have communicated. They 16ave till later the completion of their thanksgiving in a thore personal man-ner. But where neither hymns nor'prayers are expected from the congregation, each communicant is free to fol-low his own taste. On the c;ther hand it is quite possible that an individual will need educating in the use Of thig liberty. An obvious example is that of children, and the same may be "true of a number of the'f~tithful. In orderto help their thanks-giving a prayer may be recited or an intention placed before them. Care should always be taken to introduce va,riety in order to avoid monotony and routine. But if there is great freedom in the loving converse that a thanks-giving should be, there are still certairi principles which should guide .the exercise of this liberty. We suggest, at any rate, two such principles. _Firstly, thanksgiving is the kind o.f prayer .which is par excellence directed towards the person of our Lord inti-mately present. Indeed, as we have noticed, the Eucharist is d!stinguished from the other sacraments by this gift of the personal presence of Christ. It follows that after Com-munion we should be concerned to develop all that brings our attention to bear upon the very person of the Savior. Before all else.~ this person claims our ad~oration. In renew-ing his faitfi'in the presence of God now bestowed upoh him so intimately, the communicant adores the Lord with his whole soul; and proclaims before the Infinite Being that he is a creature and utterly depend~nt. But as this in-finite being is now his guest, the com~nunicant tries to converse with Him familiarly. He c~mverses with Christ who is the identi(al'Christ of the Gospel, the Christ who The Cath~oiid Mind, 46 (June, 1948), 363--64. ÷ +- + Thanksgiving Alter Holy Communion VOLUME :~0, 1961 ÷ ÷ ÷ lean Galot, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 32 enjoyed being in the company of men. The thanksgiving is the privileged moment in this personal dialogue. On the other hand it is no less important to recall that the thanksgiving is indeed the prolongation of the Mass and its completion in the individual soul. In consequence .there should be an effort to develop the dispositions which unite the soul with those of Christ in His sacrifice. Be-fore we go on to mention these dispositions, a word should be said about the Mother of God. MaTy can bring great help to the soul in its effort to unite itself to Christ's sacri-fice, just as she aids in the effort towards union with 'His person. The Blessed Virgin remains the model of per-sonal welcome to the Savior's presence, as well as of an intimate sharing in the redemptive sacrifice. She has a mission to draw souls along this way. It will be particu-larly helpful to have recourse to her in order to ensure a genuinely fervent thanksgiving. Among the dispositions which associate us with Christ's sacrifice is gratitude, for it has given its name to the Eu-charist. We have to own that we owe all to God our Father, and we should thank Him accordingly. It is to Him that we owe in the first place the immense benefit of Com-munion itself, and the gift of the Savior's body. Then comes offering. Once we have owned that all is the Father's sift there is the wish to.°ffer Him all in re-turn. The total offering that Christ makes in the Mass entails a total offering by the communicant. Thus'Com-munion prepares the soul for the sacrifices of the day ahead those sacrifices 3vhich are the effective seal of what has been offered at Mass. If it is possible to foresee certain sacrifices, it may be desirable to offer them in advance during the thanksgiving; thus the Christian will be helped to accept them in the right spirit when they come, a spirit of intimate union with Christ and the love which was carried to love's extreme limit. Thanksgiving gives the soul the opportuniiyto adopt an ideal attitude of gener-osity Which it will ~try to maintain when the difficult mo-ments do in fact arise. We should also-mention confidence and joy. Christ present in the soul is the glorious Christ, and his sacrifice was consummated in the triumph of the Resurrection. The thanksgiving should strengthen confidence in the victory the Savior h~is won, both in Himself and in others, and in such a way that the communicant is able to face more firmly obstacles to his personaFreligious life and apostolate. There should also be a renewal of spiritual joy. Coming from Communion the Christian should have a heart filled with enthusiasm and be manifestly happy, for he has just welcomed the triumphant Christ. Neither should prayer of petition be forgotten. The sacrifice of the Mass is celebrated in order to spread divine graces more abundantly upon men. The communicant ought to unite himself with the salvific will of God which, in Christ, inspires sacrifice. With the Savior he should de-sire the expansion and progress of His Kingdom; he will become more and more one. w~th the intima~t,e~desires of Christ in proportion as he makes his own the great inten-tions of the Church and asks for their fulfillment. At the same time the communicant entrusts his own private in-tentions to Christ, intentions that represent his own share of responsibility in the advancement of the Kingdom. He will take advantage of the Savior's presence in order to express his desires and hopes and to obtain their satisfac-tion. Finally, among those dispositions which we may expect the thanksgiving to develop is fraternal charity, that love of one's neighbor of which Christ's sacrifice is the perfect and extreme form. Ever since St. Paul the Church has loqked upon Holy Communion as the most powerful sac-ramental bond linking Christians, the artificer par excel-lence of the unity of the Mystical Body. Thanksgiving should contribute to the flowering of charity, both of that direct charity which concerns the people with whom daily life brings, us into contact, as well as 6f that more ample charity which goes out to the furthermost confines of the whole Mystical Body, and which is marked by a special goodwill towards our separated brethren. Such, then, are the essential dispositions which thanks-giving should develop. One could add others, or further stress certain aspects of those which we have mentioned. With Father Rahner we say .that all that is really pious may find its place in the thanksgiving, all that touches the heart of the communicant, his cares and his intentions. For the point is that thanksgiving may be seen as a kind of r~sum~ of Christian piety, of which it is the richest and most complete moment. In thanksgiving participa-tion in the sacrifice of the Mass~ reaches its peak, just as does union with the Savior's person. All the diverse, inti-mate attitudes of a man before God may therefore here be manifested in the deepest and most concrete fashion, with a most sincere personal impulse. Thanksgiving A]t~r Holy ommunion VOLUME 20, .1961 I~MILE BERGH, S.J. The Communicant's Our Father ÷ ÷ + The Reverend ~mile Bergh, S.J. is editor of Revue des Commu-naut~ s Religieuses and Professor of Canon Law at Coll~ge Saint-Albert, Eegenhoven - Louvain, Belgium. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 34 The Lord's Prayer expresses perfectly the-dispositions which should be found in the Christian who participates integrally in the H01y Sacrifice by sacramental Com-munion. It is certainly proper to think that at the mo-ment when our Lord actualizes in us in a special way His work~of salvation, He teaches us by His Spirit the prayer of redeemed sons. Le~ us then respond to this grace. Father! We are to call You by this name because Your Son, present in us, communicates to us His" divine life. May His Spirit make us taste Your paternal love. Our Father! We all form but one body, we who h~ive partaken of the same bread. In Christ we encounter all of Your sons. We will be always more brotherly toward them. We pray to You especially for our brothers, sep- "arated Christians, that they may participate ih our Eu, charist in the only Church of Christ. Who art in heaven! We believe firml~ that we have re-ceived the bread come down from heaven. Grant, our Father, that we may live close to You in spirit in the so-ciety of~the angels and saintS. Hallowed be thy name! The Eucharistic offering gives You perfect glory. YoUr holiness, Your power, Your love, all Youi attributes proclaim themselves in this mystery. W~ Unite our adoration to the Holy, holy, holy of the angels. We render You all honor and glory through Your beloved Son. Thy Kingdom come! Grant that from the rising of the sun to the going down thereof all people will offer this purest sacrifice to You, so that the entire universe may submit to the sweet yoke of the Lord Jesus. May His reign of truth and of life, of holiness and grace, of justice, of love, and peace extend itself by means of the Eucharist to all nations. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven! To receive communion is to participate in the obedience of Your Son. In everything He has done that which was pleasing to You. We give ourselves over to His will as He has given himself over to Yours for us. Make us, by the Spirit of Jesus, faithful and loving, patient and resigned. So 'the world will believe that You are Love, and the fiat of ~he earth.will echo the Amen i~f heaven. ~ . ~ Give us thi~ day 9ur daily bread! After the gift ~which You have just given us, the bread of eternal-life, can we doubt for a moment your Providence and not wait to re-ceive from it all the help for which our misery has need? Give us each day the bread of heaven. Give it to us in our last hour. Give it to all suffering humanity, for it is the guarantee of eternal happiness. Forgive us our. trespasses! By the ~mystery of the Re-demption, ~,hic.h has just renewed itself.,~f~ "us, by the power of the Body~and the Blood of Jesus, our Savior, purify us of our faults; give us deep contrition for them, pen~etrated with love and~fihal confidence. .~ As we forgive those who trespass against us! On the altar as at Calvary You pardon Your enemies. You have desired that we should reconcile ourselves Witti one another be-fore presenting our offering. Teach~ us to imitate You~ mercy w.hmh ng~ther judges ngr condemns, but pardons without tiring. By the charity which we draw from the Heart of Your Son may we be everywhere and always artisans of peace and union. Lead us not into tempthtion! We-ha~e been made mem-bers of Your Divine Son. Do not l~t us profane His most holy Body. We ate threatened on eve~ sid6,.,f0'r w'e are feeble and inconstant, imprudent and (owardl~. Welean solely on His strength and His 'love. YoUr S6.n could not be very powerful, were He unable to support U.S from one day to the next. But deliver us from evil! For one who has understood what Communion i~, tl~ere is but one evil" on earth: to lose or allow to grow cold by s~in the friendship of God. Deliver us from sin and fronl everythin~g-which leads to sin. Deliver poor. sinners fr6m their slavery.~ Amen! It is Your love which, after halving invented the marvels of the Incarnation" and the Redemption,. has crowned their magnificence with the ~ystery of the Eu-charist. We believe in-and w~ will always believe even more in Your charity. The Communicant's Our Father VOLUME 20, 1961~ MICHAEL NOVAK Saint East and West ÷ ÷ ÷ Mr. Michael Novak, a well known writer on various subjects, is cur-rently studying for a graduate degree in ~unhiivleorssoitpyh.y at Harvard REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS In these days of the re-unifying of East and West, the great John Chrysostom stands as a long-ago figure to whom both sides already turn with reverence and love. The Bishop John (3't47-~07) won the hearts of his people so wholly by his gifts of spirit and of tongue that they could not refrain from calling him as by a proper name: John of the Mouth of Gold. The saint and bishop is a crucial figure for the understanding of the meaning of the East. For he was Bishop of Constantinople in the time in which it was beginning to exert its power as the new center of the East. At the time of Nicaea in Byzantium was still inconsiderable. To the cultured world, it meant little save as the recent choice of Con-stantine for his eastern headquaiters. To the Church, it was again inconsiderable, compared to the great sees of An tioch and Alexandria which, with Rome, formed the triangle of influence in the first three centuries of Chris-tianity. But by ~81, at the second ecumenical council, Constantinople had squared the triangle by becoming the third great patriarchate of the East, and had in fact shouldered out her Eastern rivals to take second rank to Rome alone. Rome and Constantinople: two instead of four. The Emperors, of course, both of East~ and West, would be sympathetic to such centralization.' Magistrates and bishops, these were the focal points of leadership among the people (not as in our own day, when com-munications leaders, unions,, vocal professional classes, and so on, offer other focal points of leadership). To have the bishops aligned with the magistrates was then the simple key to unity and civil peace. To have one 'bishop in authority in each half of the Empire was to limit to two the locks in which to turn the key. In ~98, when St. John was raised to the patriarchal throne of Constan-tinople, the system was beginning to manifest what would be its classic workings. John Chrysostom had been ordained a priest and had been preaching at Antioch for a dozen years when he was kidnapped and borne away to Constantinople. He was kidnapped, so that neither he nor the people could . successfully protest--there was vigor and imagination to actualize cabinet decisions in those old days. How did John react to the outrage? There was no escaping the sit-uation. For the glory of God he set his hand to" the task with courage, then with joy: ., ~.' ~" Cardinal Newman's famous essay gives us perhaps the best image of this man Chrysostom, for whom the Car-dinal felt one of the most intimate ties among all the men of history. Why was John a great orator? Because he spoke in the measures of Cicero? to the public weal like Demosthenes? mystically like the ardent Origen? as a witness of the faith like Athanasius? s~,eepingly and cre-atively like the grei~t~Augtistine? humanly and commonly upon the Bible like the Antiocheans among whom he was trained? No, says Newman, he won the greatest ac-colade of any human orator because of his closeness to his people's heart. He spoke for them, adapted all his talent and his heart to their needs and characters. ~They crowded one another to hear him. He defended them. He loved them. Against those who plotted against him, the high in Church and Empire, the people were his strength: not at all because he was a demagogue, but be-cause he was a shepherd who knew his Own, whose own knew him. His greatest characteristic, the secret inner x~ord of his life, Cardinal Newman conceives, was his "intimate ~ym-pathy and compassionateness for the whole world,~ not only in its strength but in its weaknesses." His singular mark is "the interest he takes in all things, not so far as God has made them all alike, but as he has made them different from each other., the discriminating affection-ateness with which he accepts everyone for what is per-sonal in him and ianlike others., his versatile recogni-tion of men, one by one, for the sake of that portion of good, be it more or less, of a lower,order or a higher~ which has severally been lodged in them., the kindly spirit and-the genial temper with which he looks round at all things which this wonderful world contains." Out of such love, Chrysostom could approach his peo-ple with balm and sweetness evefi when ~he chastised. He hated and feared only sin; he was willing to die over and over for his people; he told them that. His own life was active and abstemious to infective measure. He did chas-tise; he made enemies. Impulsive and courageous both, he was not cautious with that talent of his: he spoke. The people loved him mightily for his courage and his single-ness. "His friends loved him with a love stronger than death, and more burning than hell; and it was well to be so hated, if he was so belovedT' When Theophilus, the Patriarch of Alexandria, enviously contrived with the of-fended Empress Eudoxia to exile John in 403, the first ÷ ÷ ÷ Saint ot East and West VOLUME 20, 1961 4. + 4. Michael Novak REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 38 exile, John could not be cautious even while his fate hung in the balance. He preached with great fervor to his people: "Christ is with me; what then have I to fear? . Already you are even more earnest than before. And when tomorrow you go out singing the litanies I shall be with you, for where you are, there also am I, and where I am there are you. Though separated in space we shall ever be one in spirit, for we form one body and it cannot be separated from its head . I am ready to give my life ten thousand times over for you . You have watched many days and nothing has moved you from your pur-pose. You have not been weakened by threats or by long-drawn- out waiting--you have done what I have always been w~anting you to do: set earthly things at naught, turned your backs on this world, risen above the slavery of the body. That is my crown, my consolation, my anoint-ing, my token of immortalityl" 1 Thus was John's union with his peop!e. His affection-ate heart poured out toward each of them, and they re-sponded. By a ruse, at the time of his second exile, he called for his riding mule at one side of the cathedral, then slipped out the other, lest the gathering crowds riot against the Imperial troops who led him off: John always thought of the people. In exile, too, on the far eastern shores of the Empire "in the loneliest spot on earth," John thought of them. He wrote them hundreds of letters, asking of their health, consoling, chiding, directing, beg-ging money for new missionary needs which he had come upon in his travels. John's first trait was compassion. His second was sanguinity: never have I had it so good, he writes shortly after he had nearly died, this frail man in his sixties, in toilsome travel; the cool air, the leisure, the care heaped on me have refreshed me. "My health was never better." His third characteristic was courage and impetuositymtogether with his goodness, these brought him to his exile and his martyrdom. To understand the malice and passion that could have moved Christians to send so good a shepherd to exile and to death, we must reflect on many aspects of the Chris-tianity and of~ the world in John's time. The peoples around the blue Mediterranean were now Christians only three hundred years or, much more accurately, only for two or three generations. The perfection of holiness, the expression in manners and institutions of the love and justice of the Lord, had hardly had time to be explored even mentally, f.ar less sink deeply by habit into the tissue and fibre of society. Elementary passions were fierce. Ways and means were direct. Monks--those whom Christianity might be suppo.sed most thoroughly to have transformed 1 Donald Attwater, St. John Chrysostom: The Voice of Gold (Mil-waukee: Bruce Publishing Company, 1939), p. 126. II were known in several places to have torn enemies limb from limb with bare hands; their riots at Alexandria were a terror. The soldiers guarding Chrysostom at Caesarea risked murder and enslavement at the hands of Isaurian barbarians rather than face the mob of monks "Who de-manded that Chrysostom leave the' city. As f6~ tl~*hier-archy, Chrysostom-said he feared nothing as he feared the Bishops. Treachery that led to flogging, tearing with hooks, burning with torches as happened to one of Chrysostom's deacons, a gentle youngster runs through the history of this time as bright scarlet and yellow thread. We must understand the wildness of the. times, and the fierceness of even tl~e next many. centuries, if we are to understand the play of human passion ;ind barbarity upon which Christianity is called to ~zork. Violeni" im-pulses, cruel machiriations, fierce self-int~rest, still rhn rampant in ourselves; but we must make an effort to re-call the times when society itself more directly expressed thes~ evil movements, less effectively neutralized and hid them. Civil magistrates and ecclesiastics may not in the main be hny holier now than heretofore, but political forms, canon law, the persistent suasion of civilized con-ventions prevent their being as violent in their evils as once upon a time save where the primitive passions arise again under the ifnpulse of marching boots and songs and shouts. ~3nce this backdrop of primitive violence is set, still another note in Chrysostom's situation must be recalled. It is this. The glory of European_ civilization was in the fourth century pivoted not yet on Europe proper but still on Alexandria and Antioch and old Byzantium. The East bore the glory of human history. Greek was the great language of the Empire. Christ had come in the East. Greek philosophy was reborn in Origen, Plotinus, Por-phyry. The great councils of the Church were Eastern councils. The Near East flourished with libraries, splen-did cities, the roads and methods taught and fostered by the earlier Romans. The deserts of Egypt and the fast-nesses of Cappadocia and Caesarea heard in th~ still crystal nights the prayers of Eastern monks. Augustine was only now bringing glory to the Latin tongue; Benedict was not yet shifting the pivot of spiritual energy from Egypt to Subiaco. Western Europe was only now b~ing conceived: the East would bring her forth. In the violence of local jealousies and entanglements with the state, Chrysostom, the light of the East, could appeal to Innocent of Rome. The Pope and he could find solace in one another's reverence and love. East and West were not yet fighting against themselves, as mother against her daughter, as land blessed by the presence Of Christ against land chosen as the humble seat of Christian leader-÷ ÷ ÷ Saint o] East and West VOLUME 20, 1q61 ÷ ÷ ÷ Michael Novai~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 40 ship. Chrysostom appealed to Innocent; Innocent replied with love. But Innocent's powerlessness foreshadowed the doom that'was to come, as the torture and dispersal of his emissaries foreshadowed other injuries of each side upon the other in the centuries to come. These were still prom-ising times, at the end of the fourth century. Chrysostom's fame went around the world; Africa and Italy shared the suspense and pain of his exile, and waited upon his let.° ters. These were among the last generations of unity of sentiment between East and West. Like the mysterious column of flame that leapt up in the night from Chrys-ostom's pulpit and burnt his cathedral to the ground, as he took ship never to see Byzantium again, so the glory of the East was to feel the flame and fire of centuries of strife, long separation, and continued misunderstanding. Why was Chrysostom sent into exile? When he came to Constantinople as Patriarch, he had begun, as Donald Attwater says, to sweep the stairs from the top. He re-buked, encouraged, disciplined, set the example for his clergy. He spoke courageously against the rich, on behalf of the poor for justice' sake, on behalf of Christ for humility's and charity's sake. He rebuked vanities and thoughtless injustices. He spoke plainly to the Empress and her court. At a crucial moment he dared to speak impulsively of the vanity of wealthy women of the court, perhaps even deliberately to ring out adoxia (disreputa-ble) to suggest Eudoxia (the Empress). Theophilus of Alexandria had had little difficulty setting enemies in motion concertedly against him. Exiled once, brought back in glory shortly--in a harbor crowded as a city square, to shouts, to joy--he was soon exiled again, de-finitively. The reasons hardly mattered. Enemies he had. Richly slippered toes he had trampled on. The ardent affection of the people could not prevent the outcome. Why was Chrysostom sent into exile? It was not only for the reasons of state, the trumped-up charges, then the consequent intrigues, the pressures, the Imperial com-mands to make the charges stick. These were trivial, dispensable. If it had .not been these, it would have been others. Good men must be broken. This is the law of Christianity. Chrysostom understood it, explicitly. Chrysostom's great natural gift was his unequalled heart-enflaming tongue; by all the laws of Christianity, his tongue would have to be silenced. Chrysostom had to be sent into exile, to the 'farthest parts of the Empire, so that God's grace might work where he had worked be-fore, Silent now in tongue, his letters live for ages--letters exile forced on him. Chrysostom grasped the fact that the kingdom Christ came to bring has laws for its inner life which set history topsy-turvy. A historian seeing the incredible malice, jealously, and ferocity of religious leaders in these times might marvel, with contempt, that Christianity could achieve so little fruit, even~,among her own.W, i~.t~',hier-archy, favor, churches, energies,~Christianity seems to do so lattle, for all 1.ts lovely wor~ls, to give the race-new hfe. But Christianity is not hierarchy or social acceptability. It is not monasteries or many vocations or crowds in church. All these did not prevent, they caused, the tor-ture of Chrysostom to death. Christianity is sacrificial love. Christian life is sacrificed life. Hence persecutions must come. If they do not come from those outside Chris-tendom, they must come from the corruption or limita-tions in the organization itself. Indeed, saint will perse-cute saint°as St. Jerome and St. Epiphanius joined Chrysostom's enemies; as good Cardinal Manning and khe saintly Newman could hardly bear each other's com-pany without severe constraint. Sacrificial love is the in-ner life of the Church. All the turmoil at Constantinople --jealousy, scheming, lying, banishment, and torture for those who would not w6rship with the false successors-- all this was necessary to make the inner life of Constan-tinople's faithful fructify. Christianity simply cannot live without suffering. External standards and measurements have got, at times, to be set at odds. Only so can con-sciences be proved truly mature, strong, brave, bold, in the darkness of faith and selflessness. "There is no need to remind you, the teacher and shepherd of a great flock," wrote Pope Innocent to Chrysostom, "that everywhere and always good men are put to the test of meeting with injustice and evil . Rest securely then in your good conscience, honored brother, for that is the strength of all good men in the hour of~affliction." "Do not be scan-dalized," John wrote to Olympias, recalling the ~candal of the Incarnation and of all the Scriptures; "remember that things even more distressing happened in the days of the Apostles." Though disunity and injustice racked his see, though true Christians were driven from the churches while the cowardly or the vicious pretended to worship there, though he himself was driven ever further into exile, forced to travel and again to travel (an attempt by his enemies to murder him by physical exhaustion), still Chrysostom could die with his favorite phrase upon his golden lips: "Glory be to God. Amen." Chrysostom un-derstood Christian love. "Be true to yourself and no one can harm you," he wrote in a last short treatise which he sent Olympias. Conscience is the dwelling place of Chris-tianity, and sacrificial love is the life of conscience not duty, or conformity, or complacency, or obligation, or law. Purified will, enamored of persons, and a Person. Hierarchy, canon law, even the Holy Mass itself, the sacra-÷ ÷ ÷ Saint oI East and West VOLUME 20, 1961 41 ments these are but means. They are some of them in-dispensable means, to be sure, given by Christ. But the accent may as accurately be On means as on indispensable. The law is love. The Way is love. The fruit is love. And love means sooner or later darkness, trial, and suffering. If East and West are separate since the tiine of John, it is because all kinds of considerations have got the better of sacrificial love. Historically polemic has been preju-diced and fruitless, each side preferring personal empha-ses to self-sacrificial views of truth. Why do Roman Cath-olics in practice if not in theory, exaggerate the legalisms of the external Church out of all proportion to their Christ-given role? Because these aspects have been under severe attack for many centuries and, knowing their value, these people have not got accustomed to seeing their limitation they are means, not the goal. Why do Easterners resist the effort of unity? Because they do not wish to forfeit centuries of tradition by a too humiliating capi~tulation to Western points of view. There are count-less 6ther reasons: none of them are insuperable, save through lack of charity. The inner dynamism of Chris-tianity is toward unity. Disunity makes for inner anguish; quarrelling causes our intensest pain; selfishness and ac-cusation make witnesses "cry out to the Lord for mercy and for aid. Just so, the scandal of disunity is our trial and darkness. The inner life of the Church is Sacrificial love. That is why the first need of East and West, when we speak of unity, is to focus our eyes with mutual regard on men as lovable as St. John Chrysostom, pride of the East and of the universal Church. Our longing hhs got to be the same as his: to be consumed, like John of the Mouth of Gold, in thq paradoxical, interior ways of the Lord's love. Michael Nov~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 42 R. F. SMITH, S. J. Documents The documents wh.ich appeared in, Acta Apostolicae Se, d~s I(AAS) during August and September, 1960, will be summarized in this article. Throughout the article all page references will be to the 1960 AAS (v. 52). New Breviary and Mass Rubrics By the apostolic letter motu propriO, Rubricarum in-structum, of July 25, 1960 (pp. 593-95), Pope John XXIII announced a new code of rubrics for the Roman Breviary arid Missal and decreed the revocation of all statutes, indults, and customs contrary to the new code. On the following day, July 26, 1960 (p. 596), the Sacred Congre-gation of Rites duly promulgated the new code of rubrics and directed that their observance be begun on January 1, 1961. The new code~ is a long document of one hundred and forty-four pages (pp. 597-740) and is divided into three parts which deal consecutively with general rubrics, rubrics of the Roman Breviary, hnd rubrics of the Roman Missal. "° General Rubrics Part One of the new code, entitled "General Rubrics," ¯ consists of nineteen chapters. The first of these chapters notes that the document is intended only for the Roman Rite. Chapter Two defines the mean.ing of liturgical days and rules that all such~days are now to be divided into first-, second-, third-, and fourth-class liturgical days. Chapter Three divides all Sundays into first- and sec-ond- class groups. First-class Sundays are the Sundays of Adveht, Lent, and Passiontide, Easter, Low Sunday, and Pentecost; all other Sundays are.second,class ones. First-class Sundays take precedence over all feasts with the ex, ception of the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. A second-class Sunday outranks a second-class feast and, when it occurs on November 2, displaces All Souls' Day. However, first- and second-class feasts of our Lord, ~when 4. 4. Survey oy Roman Documents VOLUME'20, 1961 R. F. Smith, $. ]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS they occur on a second-class Sunday, take over the place as well as all the rights and privileges of the Sunday; in such cases accordingly no commemoration is made of the Sunday. Ferials, Vigils, Feasts Chapter Four defines ferials as days of the week other than Sundays and divides them into four classes. First-class ferials are Ash Wednesday and the ferial days of Holy Week; all these ferials take precedence over all feast days and admit no commemoration except a privi-leged one. Second-class ferials are the Advent ferials from December 17 to December 23 and the Ember Days of Advent, Lent, and September. These ferials outrank sec-ond- class feasts and must be commemorated when out-ranked. Third-class ferials are all the other ferials of Advent, Lent, and Passiontide. Third-class Lenten and Passiontide ferials outrank third-class feasts, but third-class Advent ferials yield to such feasts. All third-class ferials, however, must be commemorated when out-ranked. All other ferials of the year are fourth-class ones and receive no commemoration when outranked. Vigils are divided in Chapter Five into three classes. The two first-class vigils, those of Christmas and Pente-cost, take precedence over all feast days; and the Vigil of Christmas, when necessary, takes the place of the Fourth Sunday of Advent. Second-class vigils, those of the Ascen-sion, of the Assumption, of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist, and of Sts. Peter and Paul, outrank third- and fourth-class liturgical days; the only third-class vigil, that of St. Lawrence, is preferred tO fourth-class liturgical days. Both second- and third-class vigils, when impeded, are commemorated according to the rubrics governing such matters; these vigils, however, are omitted if they fall on a Sunday or a first-class feast or if their feast day is transferred or reduced to a commemoration. Chapter Six groups feast days into first-, second-, and third-clvss feasts. Only first-class°feasts have First Vespers; however, second-class feasts of our Lord have First Vespers whenever they replace a second-class Sunday. The rest of this chapter is concerned chiefly with those feasts which the law now requires to be inserted into particular cal-endars drawn up for the use of dioceses or of religious orders and congregations. Chapter Seven r~tains only three octaves, those of Christmas, Easter, and Pentecost. The octaves of Easter and Pentecost are first-class ones; that is, all the days of these octaves are first-class. The Christmas octave is a second-class one; the days within the octave are second-class, but its Octave Day is a first-class day. Chapter Eight lists the various seasons of the ecclesi- astical year, while Chapter Nine provides for the Saturday Office of our Lady. Chapter Ten considers the Major and Minor Litanies; it notes that, those bound to the Office no longer need to say th'e' ~itany of the Saints on the Rogation Days; it Mso giv~'sq6~al ordinaries ~he ~I56wer to transfer the Rogation Days from their usual place to three other successive days at a more appropriate time. Precedence of Liturgical Days Chapter Eleven gives a breakdown of the days of the ecclesiastical year into the four classes of liturgical days and gives the rank of precedence within each of the four classes. First-class liturgical days. include all first-class Sundays, feasts, ferials, and vigils as well as the days within the octaves of Easter and Pentecosti the Octave Day of Christmas, and All Souls' Day. Seqond,class litur-gidal days are all second-class Sundays, feasts, ferials, and vigils together with the days within the octave of Christ-mas. Third-class ferials and feasts and the one third-class vigil constitute third-class liturgical days, while fourth-class liturgical days include the Saturday Office of our Lady and fourth-class ferials. Chapter Twelve defines what is meant by the occur-rence ~of liturgical days, and the following chapter gives the rules to be followed when two or more liturgical days happen to fall on the same date. In such cases only first-class feasts may be transferred; all other feasts are either commemorated or completely omitted. Chapter Fourteen gives the procedure to be followed in the case of a per-petual occurrence of liturgical days. Chapter Fifteen reg-ulates the situation that arises when the Vespers of one liturgical day conflict with the First Vespers of the suc-ceeding day. If the days are of unequal rank, the Vespers of the higher day are to be said; but if the two days are eqtlal in rank, Second Vespers are to be said with a com-memoration of the other set of Vespers. Commemorations Chapter Sixteen divides all commemorations into priv-ileged and ordinary commemorations. Privileged com-memorations are made at Lauds and Vespers and in all Masses; ordinary commemorations on the other hand are made only at Lauds and in conventual and low Masses. Privileged commemorations are the commemorations to be made of a Sunday; of first-class liturgical days; of~ the days within the octave of Christmas; of the September Ember Days; of Advent, Lent, and Passi?ntide ferials; and of the Major Litanies (but at Mass or~ly). All other commemorations are ordinary. In Masses of first-class liturgical days and in sung non-conventual Masses, no commemoration~is to be made ex- 4. 4. 4- Survey Roman VOLUME 20, 1961 45 cept a privileged one. Second-class Sundays permit a commemoration of a second-class feast only; even this, however, is to be omitted if there is a privileged com-memoration. Other second-class liturgical days permit one commemoration, whether privileged or ordinary. Third-and fourth-class liturgical days permit only two commem-orations, Chapter Seventeen gives the conclusions to be used for the orations and commemorations of the Breviary and the Missal. Chapter Eighteen is concerned with the litur-gical colors; it gives episcopal conferences in mission" ter-ritories the power to change the liturgical colors when they are inappropriate for that particular region. Chapter Nineteen completes Part One of the document by its rubrics for Mass" and Office vestments; according to this chapter the folded chasuble and the broad stole are no longer to be used. 4- 4. ÷ R. F. Smith, S. ]. Breviary Rubrics Part Two of the new code of rubrics is entitled "Gen-eral Rubrics of the Roman Breviary." Chapter One of this part divides the recital of the Office into choral,~com-mort, and individual recital. Choral recital is that of a community obliged to choir by ecclesiastical law; common recital is that of a community (two or three persons are sufficient) not bound to choir. Chapter Two notes that the canonical hours are dis-tributed in a way intended to sanctify the natural day; nevertheless to satisfy the obligation of reciting the Of-rice it is sufficient if all the canonical hours are said in the twenty-four hour period allotted them. Matins (but not Lauds1) may be anticipated after two o'clock in the after-noon of the preceding day. In choral and common recital Lauds should be recited in the early morning and Ves-pers, even during Lent and Passiontide, in the afternoon. The same p.ractice is recommended for private recital. Compline is fittingly made the last prayer of the day, even though Matins of the following day have been antici-pated. When Compline is made the last prayer of the day m choral and common recital, the Pater noster is omitted, its place being taken by an examination of conscience ~of reasonable length; the Confiteor and the rest of Compline are then.recited. All of this is also recommended .for indi-vidual recital. Chapter Three then discusses the calendar to be followed by those bound to the Office. Chapter Four begins by listing three types of Matins. .The first type, consisting of three Nocturns, that is, nine Psalms and nine Lessons, is used on first- and second-class REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS lit is probable that in private recitation Lauds may still be 46 anticipated. feasts, on the lfist three days of Hply Week, on the Octave Day of Christmas, and on All Souls' Day. The second type consists of a single Nocturn of nine Psalms and three Lessons; it is Used on all Sundays except Easter and Pente-cost, on all ferials except the'q~t three days of Holy Week, on vigils, on third-class feasts; on'the days within the octave of Christmas, and at-the Saturday Office of our Lady. The [hird type of Mating, used only on Easter and Pentecost and throughout their octaves 'if composed of a single Nocturn of three P~Alms find three Lessons. The chapter continues by" considering th~ five kinds of Offices which are now ~6 b~ used in the recital of the Breviary. "I:l{e Sunday Officd i~xcluding th6 Office°for Easter, Pentecost, and the Sunday within the oc'tave of Christmas) is largely the same as formerlywith the excep-tion of Matins. At Matins are recited the nine Sunday Psalms, then the absolution Exaudi; the Blessings to be used are Ille nos, Divinum ~iuxilium, and Per 'evangelica dicta. The First Lesson is the same as the former First. Leg-son of the day's Scripture; the gecond~ Lesson is formed'by u~iting the former Second and Third Lessons of the Scripture; and the Third Lessoh ig the First Lesson of the Homily, that is, the former Seventh Lesson. The festive Office is used for all first-class feasts and is said in the same wgy as an~ Office of a double of the first clasg was formerly said. The semi-festive Office, used for second-class feagts, is said in the same°way that Offices of doubles of the sdcofid clasg'have been~recited since 1~55. The ordinary Office, that uged on third-class feasts and for the Satm'day Office of oui'Lady, is recited like the former simple Office except for s6me changes in the Les-sons. The First Lesson is the former First Lesson of the day's Scripture, the Second Lesson is formed by uniting the former Second and Third Lessons of the Scripture, and the Third Les~on is of'the feast. This Third Lesson is obtained by using the "contracted life of the saint_ in the former Office; or, failing that, by.~om.bining the Fourth~ Fifth, and Sixth I~ssons of the former'prope.r Office of the feast; br finally, if .t.~ae feast has no Proper, by using the former Fourth Lesson of the Common. The ferial Office, used on all fer'ials and vigils except the last three days o.f Holy"Week and the Vigil of Christmas, is like the former ferial Office with Lessons either of the H~omi!y or of t~e day's Scripture. The Dil~eren.t Parts o['~the .OOice ,, ,.+,. Chapter Five, which legislates for the various parts of the Office, makes several changes which "can be-noted here. All Hymns of the Office have only the conclusion given in the Breviary, all changes~ of the conclusion by reason of feast or season being now excluded. The com-plete Antiphon is always to be said in its entirety both ÷ Survey o~ ~ Roman Documents ;=VOLUME 20, 1961 ÷ ÷ R. F. Smith, S. ]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS d8 before and after the Psalms and Canticles of all the canonical hours. The Responsoria of Offices with three Nocturns are to be taken from the Proper or the Common as previously. In the.Sunday Office, however, the first Responsorium will be the one given after the former First Lesson; the second will'be that given after the former Third Scripture Lesson; and the third, when needed, will be the Responsorium formerly recited after the Third Lesson of the Homily. In ordinary Offices with Lessons taken from the day's Scripture, the first Responsorium will be that used after the former First Lesson, while the second will be that formerly used after the Third Scrip-ture Lesson. Ordinary Offices with proper Scripture Les-sons will use proper or o~dinary Responsoria in the° same order as given in the previous kind of ordinary Office. At Prime the Capitulum will always be Regi saecu-lorum and the Lectio Brevis is always to be the seasonal one. In private recital of the Office and when the Office is recited by those who are not deacons, the prayer or oration of the Office is to be preceded-by Domine, exaudi orationem meam with its response in place of Dominus vobiscum and its response. Preces feriales are to be said at Lauds and Vespers of the ferial Office on Wednesdays and Fridays of Advent, Lent, Passiontide, and the Sep-tember Ember Week. They are also to be said at Lauds on Ember Saturdays except on the Saturday within the octave of Pentecost. Chapter Six gives the directions for making the sign of the cross and for bodily posture during the choral and common recital of the Office. It is recommended that the regulations for the sign of the cross be followed also in individual recital.° Mass Rubrics Part Three of the new c~de of rubrics is called "General Rubrics of the Roman Missal." Chapter One gives some ¯ basic notions of the various kinds of Masses and notes that the phrase "private Mass'" should be avoided, since the Mass by its nature is always and everywhere an act of public worship. Chapter Two then considers the calendar to be followed in the celebration of Mass. Chapter Three siates that the conventual Mass, except on fourth-class ferials, must comform to the Office of the day and should be ff solemn Mass, or at least a high Mass. This chapter prohibits the chanting.of the Divine Office during the conventual Mass. Chapter Four is' con-cerned with Sunday and ferial.Masses, while Chapter Five discusses the Mass for feast days. This latter chapter al-lows a priest celebrating a non-conventual Mass to choose a proper Mass for a given feast from the section "for cer-tain places" rather than use a Mass formula from the Common. And in the case of non-conventual Masses, any of the Mass formulas in the correct category of the Com-mon may be used when there is no proper Mass for the feast. Votive Masses "' '" ~' Chapter Six, which deals with votive Masses, begins by general remarks on the subject. It permits all Masses of universal feasts of the Blessed Virgin to be used as votive Masses, excluding, however, Masses of the mysteries of hbr life with the exception of the Immaculate Concep-tion. Sequences are to be omitted in votive Masses and vestment colors should fit in with the votive Mass chosen. In the case of low, non-conventual votive Masses of the fourth class, however, the color of the Office of the day may be used; violet and black, however, are always to be used when demanded by the votive Mass chosen. The chapter then divides votive Masses into four classes. First-class votive Masses, which are those permitted on all litu

Issue 28.1 of the Review for Religious, 1969. ; EDITOR ¯ R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITORS Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Augustine G. Ellard, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 631o3. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 3~i Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ~9~o6. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited v¢ith ecclesiastical approval by faculty members of the School of Divinity of Saint Louis University, the editorial ottices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Edu-cational Institute. Published bimontbly and copyright ~) 1969 by RE',q~w r.a RELIGIOUS at 428 East Preston Street; Baltimore, Mary-land 21202. Printed in U.S.A. Second class pos!age paid .'at Baltimore, .Maryblnd. Single copies: $1.00. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $5.00 a year, $9.00 for two years; other countries: $5.50 a year, $10.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order_paya-ble to R~-:viEw :-'o~ RELtGIOt:S in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to r~present R~vlew FOR RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address¯ Renewals and new subscriptions, where accom. panied by a remittance, should be sent to REvlgw :"OR Rr:LG~OUS; P. O. Box 671; Baltimore, Maryland 21203. Changes of address, business correspondence, and orders not accompanied by a remittance should be sent to R~:vlEw FOR RELIGIOUS ; 428 East Preston Street; Baltimore, MarTland 21202. Manuscripts, editorial cor-respondence, and books for review should be sent to REvlr:w rOa R~L~GIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint ~ouis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answermg should be sent to the address Gf the Questions and Answers editor. JANUARY ~969 VOLUME ~8 NUMBER t REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Volume 28 1969 EDITORIAL OFFICE 539 North Grand Boulevard St. Louis, Missouri 63103 BUSINESS OFFICE 428 East Preston'Street Baltimore, Maryland 21202 EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITORS Everett A. Dlederich, S.J. Augustine G. Ellard, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gailen, S.J. Published in January, March, May, July, September, Novem-ber on the fifteenth of the month. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is indexed in the Catholic Peri. odical Index and in Boo/~ Re. view Index. Microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is available from University Ml. crofilms; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. HILARY SMITH, O.C.D. Qgiet Prayer for Busy Busy religious today seem to be shying away from more contemplative approaches to prayer. The references to quiet and recollection in the older spiritual books are considered now to refer back to a time when every-one's approach to God was modeled on that of cloistered nuns and monks. Yet, outside the religious life people as diverse as Walter Kerr and about the importance of some we are to maintain our sanity. I think it might be helpful the approach to God through Harvey Cox are writing kind of quiet periods if at this time to see that recollection and periods of quiet is neither an approach suited only for monastic congregations nor simply a far out, naturalistic fad in-dulged in by flower children. I think it might be profit-able to examine the approach some of the busy fathers of the Church used in treating of prayer to show that traditionally the effort to find God through recollection was not a practice limited to people in monasteries and cloistered convents. It is interesting to see what a lofty concept of prayer some of the busiest fathers of the Church recommended to their equally busy congregations. While the fathers did speak of prayer as asking God for things, just as preachers a few years ago did, they did not hesitate to talk or write about prayer as a simple raising of the heart to God, as recollection. This might be expected among the monastic Fathers such as St. Basil. But I think it is significant that the more active fathers--bishops, teach-ers-- should tell their congregations--the same people they warned about fornication and drunkenness--about the higher kinds of prayer. It will be helpful, before looking at the works of the fathers, to establish a fairly clear idea of the notion of praye~ that we will be looking for. What we hope to find are suggestions on the part of the fathers that their ÷ ÷ ÷ Hilary Smith, O.CJ3., lives at 7907 Bellaire Boul-evard in Houston, Texas 77096. VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ ÷ ÷ Hilary Smith, O.C~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS congregations of working men and housewives practice what we would call today, or at least would have called a few years ago, "mental prayer." In St. Teresa of Avila's classic definition, mental prayer "is nothing but friendly intercourse, and frequent solitary converse with Him who we know loves us." 1 This definition of prayer is broad enough to include methodical meditation and even vocal prayers said well, but I believe that it shows that the essence of mental prayer is not a systematic arrangement of considerations with a concluding resolution. Rather mental prayer consists essentially in "tratando," dealing with God, in a friendly way. St. Teresa presents a more specific method of mental prayer, sometimes called the prayer of active recollection. "It is called recollection because the soul collects together all the faculties and enters within itself to be with its God," St. Teresa says in the now quaint sounding language of faculty psychol-ogy. It is with this specific form of prayer, active recollec-tion, that we shall be especially interested. It is impor-tant for us today to understand that this approach to prayer was not peculiar to St. Teresa or to the medieval monastic tradition. It represents a traditional Christian approach to prayer recommended to busy Christians long before men and women with education and leisure were almost all found in monasteries and convents. I hope that the following few remarks of the fathers on prayer will show that the early fathers, not haunted'as spiritual writers a few years ago were, by the spectre of Quietism, did not hesitate to recommend to their congregations a form of prayer that we might think to be too lofty or too mystical. One. very good example of a father of the Church addressing himself to ordinary lay people yet recommend-ing a lofty prayer of recollection is St. Gregory of Nyssa. He was almost certainly married, since in his treatise on virginity he says that he regrets that he himself is pre-vented from attaining to the glory of this virtue. Al-though it is true that he lived in a monastic community for a while, he is most famous as the active bishop of Nyssa, a post he held for eight years., In his works es-pecially in his commentaries on the Lord's Prayer and the Beatitudes, he has in view the needs of the average Christian. Although he is inclined to the asceticism of the desert, he is not a desert father living in isolation from the world around him--a world that seems in many ways similar to our own--but rather a man living in the .1 St. Teresa, Way of Perlection, in The Complete Works o/ St. Teresa, trans. E. Allison Peers (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1950), v. 2, p. 115. world, steeped in its culture and interested in all it has to offer.~ In his treatise on the Lord's Prayer, St. Gregory de-scribes his idea of prayer: "First my mind must become detached from anything subject to flux and change, and tranquilly rest in motionless spiritual repose, so as to be rendered akin to Him who is perfectly unchangeable; and then it may address Him by this most familiar name and say: Father." a St. Teresa's description of the prayer of recollection in her commentary on the Lord's Prayer is closely parallel. She says: "The soul withdraws the senses from all outward things and spurns them so com-pletely that, without its understanding how, its eyes close and it cannot see them and the soul's spiritual sight becomes clear." 4 We must be careful to understand that neither St. Teresa nor St. Gregory is describing some form of mys-tical prayer. St. Teresa is careful to explain that what she is describing "is not a supernatural state but depends upon our volition; by 'God's favor we can enter it of our own accord." 5 Thus St. Teresa distinguishes this recol-lection from what the students of mystical phenomena called "infused contemplation." St. Gregory is not so explicit, but he gives us to understand that the mind lifts itself from created things and places itself at rest in God. There seems to be no question here of God effect-ing something extraordinary in communicating with the Christian. Less to the point is St. Gregory's definition of prayer in general. He says: "Prayer is intimacy with God and contemplation of the invisible." n Though not so graphic as the earlier description, this definition shows St. Greg-ory's lofty concept of prayer; and, found in a treatise written for laymen, it shows that he was not afraid of presenting his lofty ideas to ordinary people. Another early Christian writer who recommends a contemplative type of prayer to ordinary men and women is Origen. His treatise, De Oratione, one of the first Christian treatises of prayer, was written as a reply to questions raised by his friend and patron, the married deacon Ambrose. Although Origen does not describe a kind of active recollection as clearly as St. Gregory, he does indicate that married folk, such as Ambrose, need not confine their praying to the recitation of vocal pray-ers or to asking God for favors. His description of the preparation for prayer brings to mind St. Teresa's defini- = St. Gregory of Nyssa, The Lord's Prayer. The Beatitudes, trans. Hilda C. Graef (Westminster: Newman, 1954), pp. $, 8, 15, 19. 8 Ibid., p. ~8. *Peers, v. 2, 115. 5 Peers, v. 2, 110. 6 St. Gregory of Nyssa, p. 24. + ÷ ÷ Quie~ Prayer VOLUME 28 ~.969 5 4- Hilary Smith, O.C.D. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 6 tion of prayer as a friendly converse with God. He says that by the very way one disposes his mind to prayer, by the very attitude with which one prays, "he shows that he is placing himself before God and speaking to Him as present, convinced that He is present and looking at Him." 7 Further on he says: "When praying let us not babble, but let us speak to God"; and, "When we pray in this way [in secret] we shall be conversing with God." In another context, in his Contra Celsum, Origen speaks of approaching God in a similar, contemplative-like way. Celsus has complained that the Christians do not worry about the cult due to the national idols, nor do they erect temples for their own worship. Origen answers in a beautiful passage where he says that Christians carry the image of their God within themselves. Every Chris-tian, he says, "strives to build an altar and carve a statue himself, keeping his eyes fixed on God, keeping his heart pure, and trying to become like God." s Again in De oratione, Origen recommends that Am-brose find a quiet place in his home to pray: "If you want to pray in greater quiet and without so much. dis-traction, you may choose a special place in your own house, if you can, a consecrated place, so to speak, and pray there." 0 Origen might well have been speaking to today's busy sisters. Another Church writer known for his work on prayer is Tertullian. Scholars say that Origen very likely drew many of his ideas on prayer from a Greek translation of Tertullian's De oratione. Some idea o[ his realistic recom-mendations to busy people on prayer may be drawn from this remark in his treatise on marriage and remarriage. He has been speaking of the value of continence as an aid in attaining union with God. Then almost equating prayer and union, he says that "men must need pray every day and every moment of the day." This may seem like only a paraphrase of the command "Pray always," but in the context it can be considered as an elaboration of Christ's command. Tertullian does not take Christ's words to mean that we should be constantly petitioning God for help, but rather that Christians should be con-stantly united to God in prayer through much the same kind of converse or treating with God that St. Teresa recommends. One last remark, this h'om St. John Damascene, may serve as a summing up ot what we have seen in St. Greg-ory o~ Nyssa, Origen, and Tertullian about the possi-r Origen, Prayer. Exhortation to Martyrdom, trans. John J. O'Meara (Westminster: Newman, 1954), p. 37. Cels., 8, 17, 18; quoted in Jean Danielou, Origen (New York, 1955), p. 35. Origen, Prayer, p. 43. bility for a contemplative approach to prayer for busy people. It is true that at the time he produced his little work, Barlaam and Joasaph, he was more of a monk than an active preacher, but he says that he is summarizing the ideas of the fathers before him. He says that the fathers define prayer as "the union of man with God," "angel's work," and "the prelude of gladness to come." He asks: "How shalt thou converse with God?" and an-swers: "By drawing near him in prayer." And he ex-plains: "He that prays with exceedingly fervent desire and a pure heart, his mind estranged from all that is earthly and grovelling, and stands before God eye to eye, and presents his prayers to him in fear and trem-bling, such a one has converse and speaks to him face to face." lo Better known, and at the same time a perfect example of a man who was busy, prayerful, and ready to recom-mend prayer to his congregation was St. Augustine. The ditficulty in discussing St. Augustine's approach to prayer briefly is that he has said so much about prayer. I have selected a few passages in which he seems to be speaking especially to busy people and in which he seems to be dealing with what we would call mental prayer, and more specifically with the approach to mental prayer that we described above as active recollection. Shortly after his conversion, before his baptism, Augus-tine retired for awhile to the country where he might have the leisure for prayer. We know from his Con-fessionsix that at this time he began to pour out his soul to God using the words of the Psalmist. But his corre-spondence with his friend Nebridius reveals that at the same time he was trying to withdraw from the noise of the world to find God in the depths of his soul; that he was, in our terminology, practicing mental prayer. His withdrawal was not a flight into the desert or monastery. He still considered himself and Nebridius as "busy people." The recollection he recommends to Nebridius is a practice made easier by the.solitude and leisure he is enjoying for a time in the country, but it is a practice which he says will be helpfullin the midst of activity. First he tells Nebridius of the advantages of adoring God in the "innermost recesses of the soul." He promises him that this recollection brings with it a "freedom from fear," and "an inner peace which permeates our human activity when we return to activity from our inner shrine." Finally, he tells him: "You, Nebridius, are free 10St. John Damascene, Barlaam and Joasaph, trans. Gr. Wood-ward and H. Mattingly (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1937), p. 295. ~ St. Augustine, Contessions, trans. F. J. Sheed (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1943), p. 185. + + Quiet Prayer VOLUME 28, 1969 Hila~J Smith, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS of fear only when you are inwardly recollected." lz From the Very beginning of h.is life as a Christian; St. Augustine shows, an attraction to solitary converse with God. His own prayer and the advice he gives his busy friend Nebri- ~lius furnish an interesting contrast to the prayer for-merly described in convent spiritual 'reading books. There is no question in St. Augustine's mind about re-pe~ iting many vocal prayers or following-some well-or-ganized meditatiOn plan. A few ~ears later, now a priest, St. Augustine con-tinued his exhortations, .encouraging a ~ontemplative approach to prayer, in The Lord's Sermon 'on" the Mount. He comments on Christ's words: "But when you pray, enter into your chambers." The chambers, h~ says, are our hearts.' We must close the door on things without, "all transitory and visible things which through our fleshly senses noise in upon us while we pray." Then there takes place a turning of the heart tO God; and this very effort we make in praying calms the heart, makes it clean and more capable of receiving the divine gifts. He says: "It is not words we should use in dealing with God. but it is the things we carry in our mind and the direction of our thoughts with pure .love and single affection." These ideas, coming as they do early in St. Augustine's life as a Christian, and very much like, in spirit, the teachings of the neo-Platonists on contemplation, may seem more like Platonism than Christianity. In fact, it might be argued that most of the people cited thus far, including St. Teresa, were influenced by.Platonism. It is not within the scope of this paper to discuss the influence of Platonism on Christian mysticism, nor is the question of great practical import. If authorities on prayer have found that they could effectively approach God in a way that resembles the approach of some philosophers to peace or wisdom, then the marvelous thing is not that some Christians are using a pagan philosophy in their prayer, but rather that there is such a universal inclina-tion in human nature to withdraw from the hustIe and bustle of the world from time to time and turn to loftier things. This inclination was recognized by the pagan philosophers and far eastern mystics, but it can find its best realization in a Christian context in which a personal God comes to live intimately with those who are really dedicated to Him. Later in his life, St. Augustine kept hi~ lofty concept of prayer, although, as a result of his struggle with the Pelagians, he seems to make more mention of prayer as petition. He has to explain that no one can receive ~St. Augustine's Letters, trans. Sr. WilIrid Parsons, S.N.D. (New York: 1951), v. 1, p. 157. grace simply by asking for it, but rather we ask because we have been moved by grace. Nevertheless, his classic definition of prayer in the ninth sermon on the Passion shows that he is not limiting the prayer of his congrega-tion to vocal prayer or meditation. He defines prayer as "the affectionate movement of the mind towards God." In the Enarratio in Psalmum 85, we find the idea ex-pressed above by St. Teresa that prayer is converse with God. St. Augustine says: "Your prayer is conversation with God. ~Nhen you read, God speaks to you; when you pray, you speak to God.'.' As St. Augusdnffbecame more and more imbued with the theology and language of the Bi, ble and more forgetful of Platonism, his thoughts on prayer at6 expressed more in Biblical metaphors than in philosophical abstractions. He had told Nebridius to turn away f(om created things and try to converse with God in the center of his soul. His descriptions of this contemplation of God are not too unlike the instructions of the neoPlatonists on the contemplation of true wisdom. In his later years, St. Augustine continues to instruct Christians on~ the importance of dealing With God through the heart, not just with the lips, of worshiping God in spirit, in truth, not simply in an external way. But now he presents his teaching more in the words of Christ, St. John the Evangelist, the Psalms, and less in the language of Plodnus. He frequently cites Christ's directive about praying in our own chambers, and he explains that the chambers are our hearts,is He quotes Jesus also on not using many words when we pray;14 He likes to point out that the Psalmist who so frequently calls or shouts to God is crying with his heart: " 'You have heard, Lord, the voice of my prayer. You heard when I shouted to you.' This shout to God is made not with the voice but with the heart. Many, with their lips ¯ sil.ent,~ shout with their hearts; others, making a great deal of noise with their mouths, have their hearts turned away and can ask for nothing. If then, you are going to shout, shout from within where God hears." ~ St. Augustine, then, all through his life recommended to his congregations a lofty form of prayer. He did not think it unrealistic to suggest that his people, who Were not cloistered nuns or monks, should strive after a prayerful, contemplative awareness of God's personal presence. Very likely he had achieved a contemplative union with God himself in the midst of his bu~y life and knew that it was possible for others. The modern, harried religious should not feel that his own contemplative aspirations are at all unrealistic. Rather he should see taEnar, in Ps, n. 5; Epis. 130. 14 Sermo 80. 15 Enar. II in Ps. 30, serm. 5. ÷ + ÷ VOLUME 28, 1969 9 ÷ Hilary Smith, O.C.D . REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS them as an important aspect of the Christian tradition in which he lives. Another great, active Church father with lofty ideas about prayer is St. John Chrysostom. He also defines prayer as a "conversation ~vith God." a6 He explains the first verse of Psalm 140, "Lord I shouted to you and you heard me," as the cry of a deeply prayerful man. The Psalmist here, he says, speaks of "an internal shout, from a heart of fire. He who thus shouts with his heart, turns to God with his whole heart." Always interested in the affective nature of prayer, he makes an important dis-tinction in explaining verse one of Psalm 5: "You hear my shout." The shout, he says, is not "an intonation of the voice but an affection of the mind." 17 To indicate the lofty nature of the kind of prayer he has in mind he says that it is a duty which we have in common with the angels. To pray with the proper rev-erence we must remove ourselves from worldly things and place ourselves in the middle of the choirs of angels. Although St. John Chrysostom has special praise for the life of monks he is anxious that everyone should give themselves to prayer, "both civil servants and private citizens, both men and women, both the elderly and the young, both slaves and freemen." as And he gives special instructions for busy housewives who would like to spend some time in quiet prayer. He reminds them that unlike their husbands "in the middle of the forum or before the tribunal, stirred up by external things as by heavy waves," housewives should be able to sit down for awhile in the privacy of their homes and recollect themselves. In this way they are like those who go out to the desert, bothered by no one: "Thus the housewife, always remaining within, can enjoy a permanent tran-quillity." Obviously St. John Chrysostom had the same notion of a housewife's life as many men today--and his ideas were probably received with the same disdain. But we are not citing John Chrysostom so much for his socio-logical data as for the importance he attaches to a con-templative form of prayer even for housewives. He ex-plains that even if she is forced to go out to Church or to the baths, once she has acquired the habit of recollection she need not be perturbed. What is more, the prayerful, recollected wife will be able to quiet a restless husband and help him forget the worries and cares of the forum.19 If we remember that St. John Chrysostom recommends a certain amount of solitude and prayer for everyone, ~ In Cap. X1 Gen., Horn. 30 n. 5. a7 Exposit. in Psalm. 5, n. 3. rs Homil. encomiast, in S. Meletium, n. 3. a~ In Jo. homil. 61, nn. 3, 4. we can profit from his commentary on Christ's prayer away from the crowds. St. John is not suggesting that everyone flee into a desert, but rather that everyone imi-tate Christ by leaving the noise of society for a little while to be able to pray and thus to return strengthened and fortified. It is thus that St. John explains the words of St. Matthew: "After he had dismissed the crowds he went up into the hills by himself to pray." ~0 "Why did Christ go up into the mountain? That he might teach us how appropriate is the wilderness, is solitude, for calling upon God. He thus frequently sought the wilderness and spent the night there that he might instruct us that we ought to seek out tranquil times and places for prayer." ~x St. John insists that the solitude necessary for prayer is not the physical solitude of the desert. Christians can pray everywhere because "God is always near." We can pray "in the bath [St. John seems especially interested in the possibility of prayer here] on the road, in bed, before the judge." ~ He says that it is not necessary to be rich or a philosopher to pray, but that even manual laborers can pray "as in a monastery: for it is not the comfortable-ness of a place, but an upright life that brings us quiet." ~3 St. John's insistence that everyone can pray everywhere at any time is b:.sed on two principles: First that God is always near to us, actually living in us as in a temple: "The grace of the Holy Spirit makes us temples of God so that it might be easier for us to pray." ~4 Secondly, we can pray always because in prayer, "the mouth makes no sound, while the mind shouts." Religious should understand, then, that aspiring to a more simple, contemplative approach to prayer, even in the midst of a highly active life, is not at all unrealistic. In fact it is more in keeping with the Christian tradition and the aspirations of human nature than the formalized meditations stressed so much in religious houses in the last two or three centuries. It is an approach to God long fostered by some of the most active fathers of the Church and recommended by them to their equally active con-gregations. .-o Mt 14:23. -~ In Mt. homil. 50. m Homil. de Canan., n. 11. ~ Ad llluminand. Cateches., I, n. 4. =4De Anna, serm. IV, n. 6. + 4- Quiet Prayer VOLUME 28, ]! VINCENT P. BRANICK, S.M. Formation and Task ÷ ÷ + Vincent P. Bran-ick0 S.I~I., is a mem-ber of the Maria-nist Seminary; Regina Mundi; gri-bourg, Switzerland. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS A dilemma confronts those charged with the forma-tion of religious today. A program of formation which encourages the spontaneity of the religious, one which minimizes regulations and concentrates on personal re-sponsibility seems to be the only valid method of forma-tion today. This is true not only for houses of formation but also for active community life where growth in per-sonal identity and in a way of life must continue. But in such a program of formation severe difficulties of vocation often arise. Self-doubt replaces original enthusiam. Scep-ticism challenges the very viability of religious life. And many leave. I believe these vocation difficulties are neces-sarily connected with this type of formation. In such programs administrators engage and direct the critical spirit of members to the interior structures of the life. Focusing on the life of the individual and the com-munity, this criticism strives to minimize the regulated activities and increase the optional elements of daily life. By allowing a religious to choose for himself the details of his life, the administrators hope both to develop per-sonal autonomy and help the younger member to identify himself fully with the life of the community. Seldom, however, do these great hopes materialize in a more vigorous religious life. In fact where superiors implement these reforms most whole heartedly, the greatest difficulties seem to arise. The critical spirit focuses on the interior structures of the life, and the agonizing questions begin. To what minimum should we limit our regulations? What is the basic concept of re-ligious life from which we can derive these minimum regulations? Can the present superiors be trusted to define religious life as it should be? Can a member rely on anyone but himself to conceive the definition and regulations of the religious life he is to lead? This distrust, self-doubt, and aggression generated by this type of criticism is isolating religious in an extreme individualism and is draining away real enthusiasm. The difficulty, however, is not with the criticism in itself, I believe, as with the notion of regulation implied both in this type of critical questioning and in the defensive at-tempts to answer. The basic difficulty consists in a loss of the practical sense of rule, in attempts to deduce rules from a defined concept of religious life rather than from a practical selection of religious tasks. Without an appreciation of objective task as the coun-terpart of rule, the efforts to criticize and modernize our programs of formation are developing an ex.ag.ger.a.ted self-consciousness. Our great emphasis on minimizing rules and developing autonomy is throwing out of bal-ance the dynamic but delicate dialectic of human life ¯ between self-consciousness and self-forgetfulness in task, between subjectivity and objectivity. "Responsibility," "fulfillment," and "freedom," the key words of today's personalism, pertain to subjective states of an individual, just as "minimum regulation" and "optional time" pertain to the subjective or interior conditions of a community. These terms indicate a re-flection of the subject on himself. As developing from this reflection, they are abstract and formal, belonging to a secondary thematic. As categories of human life they are certainly valid; but when taken out of their relation to a concrete activity in a concrete situation, they are deceiving. When considered outside of this relation, these terms appear very precise in. idealistic simplicity. They are ideals and in their simplicity, they evoke a radical response, a response that is immediate and totally absorbing. Men die for freedom. Priests leave their Church for fulfillment. But when these categories are not separated from their context in life, their simplicity is lessened by the com-plexity of daily business. Their radicalness is tempered by respect for the values of concrete situations. The re-sponse to these ideals can still be radical and totally ab-sorbing, but in a way that is more realistic, persevering, and in the end more effective. The objective and concrete counterpart of these sub-jective and reflex categories is task. Task is the creation of values that can be shared, values not simply of an individual subject but of a public world, where many can partake. Yet, task is more than a man's material work. It includes also his duty to worship God, his duty to be thoughtful and thankful of truth and beauty, because such duties are eminently public, even when accom-plished in silence. Task is the outward going service of that which is not self. By emphasizing task as the necessary correlative of subjectivity, we respect the nature of the human subject. Man is no't an enclosed container but an outward thrust to another. Human subjectivity is basically intention-ality. The self becomes self in becoming other. Here we 4. ÷ Formation and Ta~k VOLUME 28, 1969 + ÷ ÷ V. P. Branick, $.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 14 have the fundam.ental human paradox--a man finds himself through his interest in another, a man achieves personal autonomy by binding himself in love of the other, a man can reflecton ideals only when engaged in tasks. Only the altruistic love of a task can preserve and intensify personal autonomy in the unavoidable restric-tions imposed by daily choices. Choosing some goal or some means to a goal always restricts and limits, whether a person simply accepts, another's choice or whether he chooses for himself. A decision always ex-cludes a multitude of alternatives. But a person who loves his task in no way loses autonomy by this restriction. In his love he concentrates himself in the positive core of his decision, locating his life in the values he wants to accomplish. Without that love he remains scattered over all the alternatives so that the restriction of the al-ternatives becomes a restriction of self. For example, one who loves the task of community prayer can accept the restrictions of a community schedule. One who loves his task of witnessing to eschatological values can accept disengagements from some elements of the commerce of civilization. In these loves a person seeks the fulfillment of what is not himself, and by so doing he develops in and through the unavoidable limitations. Fulfillment by love of task is such a common occur-rence that we tend to overlook it. We find it in the suc-cessful professional man, in the loving parents of a fam-ily, in the dedicated missionary. Conversely, we are struck by the lack of autonomy in the person concen-trating on his own stature in a type of adolescent self-consciousness. The person concentrating directly on achieving his autoflomy is the person least capable of finding it. By centering his attention on himself he can-not maintain the intensity of his normal thrust to the outside without which he cannot live as a mature free man. The man without a task is a tragic figure. The soul searching into which he is forced only aggravates the loss of identity he suffers. He is caught in a closed circle until another comes to him and appeals for his cooperation. In our present appreciation of personalism, the notion of task has faded from importance. Task appears as an impersonal category, something to do rather than some-one to relate to. But in no way are task and person op-posed. Rather the two notions are inseparable in the understanding of human relations. A task has signifi-cance only in view of the person who will benefit from it. And relating to a person implies concrete action that is more than purely symbolic gesture. To limit our cor-poral activities in interpersonal dynamics to mere signs of interior attitudes is to attempt an angelic community and to end up in a gross sentimentalism. Our interper-sonal relations are not simply encounters between spirits. Human community demands the creation of values through corporal work as a medium of com-munication. Task as an impersonal category is an in-dispensable presupposition for a truly human person-alism. A human community receives its unity and its identity from its common tasks. No community can exist on its own substance. A community which concentrates only on interior community life will never attain the well being of its members. The cohesion and dynamism of a com-munity results from a common advancement toward a goal which transcends the community. The convergence of the members with each other results from the con-vergence of all the members on a common goal. In selfless striving for this goal, the members find them-selves united. Their mutual confidence rests on the con-fidence each has that the other' is striving for the com-munity goal, or at least is not surreptitiously seeking his personal advantage to the detriment of that goal. Dis-unities are constructive only if they occur in the context of a greater dynamic unity. If the members agree on their general task, their different ways of conceiving the specific work enter into a productive dialectic. Even adamant differences about the means to accomplish a task are not divisive in the context of agreement about the end. But where members disagree on the basic task of the community, where they dispute the primary pur-pose of themselves as a group, there can be no dynamic coherence. No amount of dedication of the members to each other as individuals can supply for this lack of dedication to a common task. No matter how much the members love each other as persons, they cannot function together. In such a group, accord can exist only by agree-ment not to work together. That is, accord can exist be-tween individuals, but not between members of a func-tioning community. After saying all this about the dependence of the in-dividual and. communitarian subject on its tasks, we cannot stop here without risking a onesided distortion. All I have said is open to the totalitarian interpretation that individuals and communities should uncritically accept and dedicate themselves to tasks handed to them from the past. This is not true. A continuation of the analysis of the relation between self and task indicates why this is not true. Our objective tasks are not fully intelligible in and by themselves. These tasks depend on the subject just as the subject depends on the tasks. Every task presupposes a certain readiness in the subject. Ira man is not ready to meet objective realities by a Formation and Task VOLUME 2B, 1969 15 V. P. Branick, $.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS certain sensitivity or openness to them, he will never recognize them when he comes across them. And with-out this recognition the objective task can never exist. An educational task exists only for an educated person. A religious task exists only for a religious person. Only by knowing his own religious demensions can a person articulate and thereby give reality to an objective reli-gious task. Besides depending on a subject's recognition, a task also depends for its existence on a subject's freedom in accepting or rejecting it. A task exists only as someone's task, and only in a person's free decision can a task be-come his. The automaton cannot create a task for itself because it cannot freely identify its good with the accom-plishment of the task. A free decision is thus necessary for the existence of a task, and such a free decision pre-supposes a subject who has already achieved.a degree of selfhood or autonomy. This dependence of the object on the subject holds also for communitarian dynamics. The recognition and free acceptance or rejection by a community of its task presupposes a level of coherence and self-understanding already .existing in that community. A task could never draw a group if the group could not direct itself through a group decision. We seem to have an unbreakable circle here. The autonomy of the subject presupposes a thrust toward its objective task, but this thrust presupposes the au-tonomy of the subject. In reality this mutual dependence exists more as a dialectic or oscillation between self and task, by which the subject grows in maturity and his work grows in precision and importance with each turning of the self to his task and from task to self. At the beginning of this dialectic lies, on the one hand, the basic openness of the human spirit, and, on the other, the original call of reality which can only be the direct appeal of God Himself. Task, as this dialectic reveals, has a role in human life which is at once relative and absolute. Any given task will be relative because it depends on the subject who can therefore criticize and change it. This dependence of the task on the recognition and decision of the subject refutes a totalitarian submission of the person to his work. The autonomy which the task confers on the subject is the autonomy l~y which he can dominate the task. But because this autonomy is indissolubly linked with task as such, task is absolutely indispensable to human existence. We cannot change or criticize our need to work as such. And this absolute need to give ourselves to task is present in a concrete way in any given task no matter how temporary or contingent it is. In all its provisional and contingent character, the task at hand remains the source of dynamism for the human dialectic of growth. In fact, the mature development of task requires a very delicate balance between self-reflection and outward-going service, between critical detachment and dedicated engagement, between autonomy and abnegation. Today in many areas of religious life, I believe, we have upset this delicate balance. The sudden wave of self-criticism which religious life has undergone has over-weighted the subjective pole of the dialectical balance. Individuals and communities have almost locked their sights on themselves in a direct concentration on their subjective fulfillment. The surging experience of the need to criticize and modernize the communitarian tasks is failing to issue into a more intense outward dedica-tion. This need to criticize and modify tasks has resulted primarily from the advances of Christian theology in the last twenty years, advances which in a way climaxed and received great publication in the Second Vatican Council. Modern theological insights showed the great horizontal expansiveness of Christian life, the great variety of ways in which Christianity can be :lived. The former theologies. tended to picture Christian life in a rather narrow ver-tical plane which allowed variety only in terms of hier-archic positions. The various tasks of Christian life dif-fered from each other because some were more perfect than others. This gave an absolute character to de-cisions in the selection of concrete tasks. In this narrow but precise view of Christian life, the various tasks of religious orders--their ways of prayer, their apostolic works, their degree of cloister--all seemed direct deduc-tions from the gospel following necessarily from a totally unlimited acceptance of Christianity. By showing the horizontal expansiveness of Christian life, modern theology has changed this view. We can now see many ways of acting and working as Christians, each way with a dignity proper to itself, a dignity that is not simply a limited edition of that belonging to a more perfect task. Modern theology has not depreciated the basic tasks traditional to religious life; but it has rela-tivized them by presenting them in the context of other tasks, thus showing that the acceptance of a task results more from contingent decisions than from absolute de-ductions. There are pressing needs for so many tasks that no necessity binds a community or an individual to one or the other. Seeing for the first time the contingent and provisional character of their tasks, many communities and individ-uals are experiencing a real crisis of identity. The tra-ditional tasks on which they built their identity seem 4- ÷ 4. Formation and Task VOLUME 28, 1969 ]7 ÷ ÷ ÷ V. P. Branick, $.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]8 to have been depreciated because they have been rela-tivized. For people who tend to think always in ab-solute categories, this relativization of traditional com-munitarian tasks is anguishing. Many religiou.s have become worried about their fulfillment and autonomy through such tasks. This worry often leads to a search to reabsolutize the community tasks, finding a modern task that is the task of the Church today. Although opening new possibilities and purging re-ligious life of obsolete structures, this intense concern about personal antonomy and this criticism of all tasks at hand is impeding the turning outward toward work in self-dedication. By fixing attention on tile subject, this critical self-consciousness is obstructing the oscillation between selfhood and task and in this way is diminishing the general vitality of religious life. Houses of formation are especially susceptible to this loss of vitality becanse it is there that the dialectic be-tween religious identity and religious task must begin. Equipped with neither the subjective identity of a re-ligious congregation nor an understanding involvement in its present tasks, candidates arrive usually with simply a willingness to enter. At this moment of entrance only a vivid presentation of tasks can engender enthusiasm, a presentation of tasks which the person sees worthy of his dedication. Concentrating on such tasks a young religious will gradually develop a self-possession in the style of the congregation that will make him fully responsible for its works, that will allow him to live without thought of external pressure, that will enable him to criticize and modify his tasks. But if on entering religious life or during the years of formation, he sees in the administrators a paralyzing hesitation regarding tile most basic tasks, if his program of formation turns his attention constantly back to him-self in questions of autonomy, fulfillment, and minimali-zation of rules, the dialectic of growth can hardly begin to operate. There is certainly no facile answer to the problem of developing religious enthusiam in a time when all tasks of religious life are being revaluated. We cannot simply ignore the severe doubts that do in fact exist in the minds of administrators. But the present hesitation to present concrete tasks to religious is serionsly hampering the possibility for formation. A rehabilitation of religious task must take place on two levels. The first level is that of the Church as a whole. On this level we can recognize a permanence and uni-versality of tasks. In the life of the Church there is a permanent need for some people to pray in a way that disengages them from personal participation in the eco- nomics and politics of our world, just as there is a per-manent need for others to ~ray in a way that involves them person.ally in economic and political progress. These needs derive from the very nature of Christianity. On this universal level we can articulate a theology that shows the beauty and depth both of the traditional and. o~ the new tasks of the Church. Such 'a theology of the functions of the Church can present these tasks in such clarity that they engender enthusiasm and initiate self-dedication. The second level is that of the particular congrega-tion. On this level we must learn to understand the co,,n~tin, gent and limited nature 'of the congregation'~ en-traiace into the universal work'of the Church. From the expansive range of ecclesial tasks, each with its own theology and permanence, a" congregation must decide on specific tasks to assume. This decision is necessarily contingent on historidal and p~rs~nal ,circumstances, but this contingency need not prevent an intense adherence~ to the tasks. The decision by a congregation will be based on its continge~tt capabilities, as a result of a his-tory of insights and ~pecializatiops, but in that decision a congregation enters into theuniversal dimensions evangelization. A chosen task may not be the most cen-tial, the most perfect possible task of the Church today, but by accepting it with its limi(ations, a religious con-gregation can take its part in the whole work of the Church in all its depth and beauty. The only alternative' to this is a perfectionist idealism that paralyzes all forts. Although in the actual appropriation of a task the two levels blend together, each operates according'to its own rules. The first level is theological and universal; the second, historical and contingent. Formation to task takes place on both levels. It educates to a vivid aware-ness of the universal tasks of the Church and to an ac-ceptance of the contingent communitarian decisions by which a society shares in these tasks. By focusing attention on the fulfillment and spon-taneity of the individual, many programs of formation today run contrary to the needs of both levels. The tasks of the Church are being obscured. Relieving the anguish-ing needs of the people of the world, bringing all men to an intimate knowledge and love of Christ, worshiping God as a community~these tasks of the Church are being displaced by concern for personal development. At the same time, the emphasis on minimizing rules and foster-ing spontaneity is blurring the need to accept the con-tingent communitarian decision of a task and the struc-ture of authority that makes the communitarian decision possible. Certainly we should be pruning away obsolete Formation and Task 19 rules, rules which are no longer associated with a task. But the effort simply to minimize rules for its own sake is equivalent to the effort to minimize community tasks. For a religious dedicated to the community work, the minimization of rules is not a burning issue. The dis-tinction between what is regulated and what is optional is of secondary importance. Rules appear as means of coordinating community effort, as expressions of what the community expectsof an individual, how he can contribute to the community functions. Since contribu-tions to the community functions may vary in a contin-uous range, from indispensable activities to actions which have little relation to the community work, the categories of "regulated" and "optional" are simply in-adequate to divide the day. Endless discussions about the precise limits of regulations indicate that the ques-tion of task has not yet been resolved. Formation must begin and end with mission, a selec-tion and a confiding of tasks, an education of people to the realities of these tasks that evokes their love for the good to be accomplished through these tasks. Trying to educate people to self-direction without at the same time giving them tasks will always tend to a loss of self-giving. Educating people to love and know tasks, allowing the tasks to draw people will inevitably result in a develop-ment of responsibility and self-confidence. The dynamism of task is the only atmosphere conducive to human autonomy. ÷ ÷ V. P. Branick, S.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 20 JOSEPH FICHTNER, O.S.C. Religious Life in a Secularized.Age Vatican Council II, in its decree on The Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life, analyzed our renewal as a twofold process and laid down two generic principles for the pursuit of that renewal.1 The first principle takes us historically backward, the second forward. The first principle is a continuous return to the gospel of Christ as a basic norm of the religious life, and the second is an adjustment or adaptation to the physical, psychological, cultural, social, and economic conditions of our day. But at this point already one should ask the question: Is not religious life caught in a false dilemma when it at-tempts to return and renew itself at one and the same time? 2 How can it move backward and forward simul-taneously? Is it possible for religious to draw their in-spiration from the gospel as well as adjust themselves within the context of a secularized age? The decree underscores the return to the gospel ideal first of all; this is why a concerted and communal effort is to be made to catch anew the gospel inspiration as a rule of life and conduct. Yet the gospel presents reli-gious with no stereotype of their life that is always and everywhere valid and that they can turn to when-ever they find themselves in religious straits. In order to re-evangelize we have to ask questions of the Bible out of our own concrete, contemporary life, because the religious life experience of 1969 presents us with prob-lems. The problems are compounded because we have till now developed only the embryo of a new style of life which shows very indistinct features of further growth. XN. 2. "E. Schillebeeckx, "Het nieuwe mens- en Godsbeeld in conflict met her religieuze leven," Ti]dschri]t voor theologie, v. 7 (1967), pp. 1-27. I have followed to a large extent the development of ideas in this article. See also Soeur Guillemin, "Renovation de l'espHt et des structures," Vie consacrde, v. 38 (1966), pp. 360-73; she covers much of the same ground from a more practical point of view. Joseph Fichtner, O.S.C., is a faculty member of Crosier House of Studies at 2620 East Wallen Roadi Fort Wayne, Indiana 46805. VOI'UME 28, 1969 - ~oseph Fichtner, O~.C. REVIEW F.OR.RELIGIOUS We are asking questions, therefore, which the past Christian generations could not have asked since they did not live in a secularized age. The gospel cannot reply to questions not put to it; nor does it await questions from us which were already put to it by generations past.,'It is inconceivable that we should inquire .intb the Sc'riptures from the same van-tage point, say, as Sts. Jerome and Augustine had to do for .their respective communities whose members did not take vows but simply pledged themselves to persevere in their religious purpose. The medieval monks interpreted the Bible in a much different way than we can, and they tended to encapsulate the religious life into a profession of the three vows, a notion retained by canon law in its definition of the religious state.3 The former tendency was to regard the religious experience as a form more or less of flight 'from the world, of self-denial; renunciation, the exclusive service of God. We must strenuously reject the identification of the evangelical community life with the fo~ms it has taken in a given period and locale. Perhaps~- though you will have to judge this for yourselves--the change with the times and places is harder for the woman religious because of her naturally (and in other respects advantageously) conservative spirit. The past.historical ~onception of religious life hardly coincides with the demands made upon'human life by a secularized society.4 If we are to research the gospel for goals and guides to present,day religious .life, then we will have to approach it with an open mind, not with the m~ntality of our forebears, founders or foundresses, most of whom lived in a pretechni.cal, preindustrial, pre-democratic age. We may e~,en, have to rephrase our. ques-tions once. we listen to the cadences of God's word. The gospel may. echo. to us the question whether we have been tuned in to the secularization process critically, whether our life context offers any guarantee of human values. The times we live in, with their alternate possibilities of. good~, and evil, do not simply call for an unqualified adaptation. .-Hence what the decree aims atis that religious.evaluate their world in the light of the gospel. Some kind of eval-uation has already.been done for the Church at large in the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World; here the world is seen from a threefold view-point-- as created, as fallen and sinful, and as loved and redeemed.5 Religious life itself has to be reinterpreted 8 C. 487. ' ]. Bonnefoy, A.A., "Presence au monde ~an.s une vie religieuse," Vie consacr~e, v. 39 (1967), pp. 353-67. ; . ~ 8 E. Pin, $.J., "Les insfituts religieux apostoliques et le ~hang~- ment ~ocio-cultuel," Nouvelle revue thgologique, v. 87 .(1965), pp. 395-411. by means of a confrontation between the two, gospel and world. Without such a confrontation, the attempt either to re-evangelize or to adapt is empty and meaning-less; it is sold short by too much evangelization on the one hand and too much humanization on the other. The only way to arrive at a confrontation of the two is to examine human experience today in the light of the gospel and to understand the gospel from the viewpoint of contemporary human experience. Man today looks upon the natural world as the raw material out of which he can create his own world. The supremacy he feels over the things of the world is chang-ing his view of himself too as part of this world. Through his own scientific work he finds himself able to live a more human life; by humanizing the world round about himself he is discovering more human values. One of the values that he has freshly uncovered and that have prompted him to make the world more hu-manly livable is his freedom. Freely and creatively he would carve out of the world a home where the human community can exist in justice and love. He is filled with an indomitable desire to build a better world where men can live together in the solidarity of justice and love. But the humanization of the world by means of science and technology has also created, by way of a byproduct, the danger for man to render this world uninhabitable. The Great Society has been so organized by man that it has well nigh done away with other human opportunities such as the contemplative side of life offers him. He is forced almost to flee from the world in order to have the time and place for that contemplation which does not only regard the things of God but respects the dignity otr his fellowmen. Man risks the danger of treating his fellowmen as things and of overpowering them, of using and abusing them as he would the things of nature. If he loses his respect for his fellowman, he is liable to manip-ulate him, exploit him, and usurp his rights to human achievement.6 Of all the human qualities young people wish for themselves and expect of others the most out-standing are personal right, authenticity, trust, under-standing, loyalty, and honesty. They reject any and every sort of depersonalization. Man can so dominate the world socially, economically, and politically, that he runs roughshod over his fellowman. So the same scientific and technological progress can be both a boon and a threat to a more human existence, depending upon the use to which man puts it for his fellowman. The whoIe secuIarization process that has fallen into human hands has affected man's stance toward religion, 6S6eur Marie-Edmond, "Qu'attendent les jeunes filles de la vie rcligicuse communautairc?" Vie consacrde, v. 39 (1967), pp. 40-50. + Religious LiIe, Secularized Age VOLUME 28, 1969 23 ÷ ÷ Joseph Fichtn~r, 0~.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS though primarily it is a social event that of itself need not lead to any irreligiosity. It does, however, set man upon the pinnacle of the temple of this world; it puts him into a relationship with the world which he never yet experienced. This change of relationship and his own understanding of it is bound to alter his view of God. While formerly the Church was the means of bringing his attention to God as He operated in nature, history, and society, now that man has asserted his creative power over the world, he has at the same time contrib-uted to its desacralization. God would seem to be left out; man comes to the fore. As a result the conclusion we can easily reach is that secularization and desacralization are pagan, heathen, or anti-religious. But the fact of the matter is that this proc-ess has both Christian and non-Christian elements and hence cannot be accept.ed unqualifiedly or uncritically. If anything shakes the younger generation, it is their fear for the destiny of a world so insecure in its secular struc-tures. To give the secularized world its due, we must ac-knowledge it with faith as God's creation to which he gave an autonomy and secularity. Our belief in His act of creation implies that the world be left wholly other than God---creaturely, human, worldly. 0nly if we recog-nize the world for what it is can we catch some insight into who God is, as Someone unworldly, transcendent, uncreated. The more we tend to sacralize the world, the less transcendence do we attribute to God and the less likely are we to worship Him alone. Acceptance of the world and everything worldly from a divine point of view means setting the world free for man; to secularize it is to allow it freedom, a created autonomy. In a sense, then, the secularization process follows from Christianity itself as a consequence of its refusal to commingle, confuse, or fuse God with the world. Chris-tianity has no intention of divinizing or Christianizing or baptizing the world from within, but rather of keeping the world humanized through the retention of its essen-tially human values. Christian secularity is precisely this, that Christians in a spirit of faith discern the dif-ference between the concrete Christian and the pagan elements which make up the world and allow it to be itself. Grace makes it possible for Christians to prepare for Christianization, that is, to secularize and humanize the world by means of a faith outlook. The Gospel does not sterilize the heart of man, emptying it of an appre-ciation of all earthly and human values; rather it opens to him the same full human perspective which Christ had in assuming and recapitulating humanity. Sin alone dims or eclipses the possibility of that perspective. This is the kind of world, its history and culture, in which we must situate the religious life, and this is the same world in which we can ask the appropriate ques-tions of the gospel for the inspiration of the religious life experience. A false understanding of the world will in-evitably lead to a series of false questions. It will incline the religious to view nature, the world, man, negatively, and argue for a flight from the world. The old concept of God.has undergone a change along with the old concept of the world. But the death-of-God theology has evidently failed to come up with a new con-cept of God. In the. past Christianity was always con-vinced that God is inaccessible and ineffable. Faced with the radical inability to express themselves about God or present him to their fellow Christians, theologians and mystics resorted to an apophatic or negative theol-ogy. They admitted to knowing less about who God is not than about who He is. Oftentimes God was popularly conceived as one who intervened in the world; such repre-sentations of Him in the ordinary theological manuals reflected the social and cultural milieu. The experience of faith in God was colored by the social and cultural context necessarily, but 'this did not render it less authen-tic than the experience of faith in our own cultural situation. 'If our era is less sure of and less concrete in its con-cepts of God, it is because we have turned God into a big question mark and into a popular conversation piece. Perhaps there has been more conversation about Him since his "death" than there ever was while He was still considered "alive." We would like to unmask all the former illusions about God and do away with all the pseudo-gods of the past, but in getting rid of all such idols we have not clarified or facilitated the making of God in our own image. By raising the problem of God in our own day, we are likely to forget our own human condition which threatens to falsify the truth about God. In searching for Him we run the risk of creating other idols .than those we just finished demolishing. One of our approaches to God which hides some of His reality for us and which we may be guilty of in the religious life is to think that we can dedicate our-selves to him directly and exclusively. This approach may be devoid of any real, concrete content, a sort of chase into empty space, a flight after some utopian ideal. The only way remaining for us to express ourselves about Him has to derive from our experience within this world and within this era of salvation history. God speaks to us through men, their world and history; this is the hearing aid by which we can listen to His voice. There r.eally is no opposition between God's word in Holy 4- Religious Lile, Secularized Age VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ ÷ ÷ Joseph Fi~htner, O$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Scripture and the authentic religious life experience of today, for the Scriptures provide us the norm whereby we can be faithful listeners to His word as it appeals to us in today's life experience. The latter feeds our under-standing of God, concretizes it, and gives content to our belief in God. To overlook this fact is to retrace our steps to the days when Christians felt it their duty to separate or alienate themselves from the world. We have no criticism to offer of their religious posture, be-cause it had meaning for them, but it leaves us without a real living God. Today we have the idea that to try to approach God directly and exclusively, without any worldly and human medium, is an unchristian illusion. We are inclined, if not theoretically then practically,, to distinguish between a Christian and a pagan secularity. We believe we come in contact with the living God in and through and with our fellowmen. This does not mean that as Christians we do not respond to God immediately and personally, but that our relationship with Him is real and concrete be-cause mediated through worldly and human realities. Christ experienced the immediacy of God's presence in Himself, in and through His humanity. He willed to be-come God in human form. In like manner we encounter God in the immediacy and mediacy of that image and likeness of Him which is man. What is immediate and what is mediate are not mutually exclusive but are linked together in our relationship to God. Against this modern background the religious life must examine the Scriptures to seek the solutions for the problems facing it. Sacred Scripture contains a number of evangelical counsels that simply are irreducible to the three classic vows the medieval monks or nuns pronounced. In fact, the gospel refers to only one counsel,7 one which was not expressly imposed or urged upon the early Christians.s It teaches that the perfection of love is attainable by all Christians, whatever their state of life, without their having to keep the counsel of celibacy.'° All Christians are called to an observance of the commandments and the other evangelical counsels in order to attain the per-fection of love. The one counsel alone is left to the free choice of every Christian and is the evangelical source from which the religious life has grown. Essen-tially, therefore, the religious life is a freely willed Chris-tian celibate life. This life is lived mostly in a community because few people freely will to live it in solitude.~0 7 Mt 19:10-2. s 1 Cor 7:25. ~ 1 Cor 13. ao Soeur Marie-Edmond, "Qu-attendcnt les jeunes filles?" The personal choice of this style of life is motivated by the gospel and makes sense fo~ alifetime only in virtue of the same~ The force of this motive is borne upon those young people who because of the instability and.change-ability of our age fear giving themselves to any style of life demanding continuity and stability. One who is will-ing to spend his entire life ~s a Christian celibate does.so because he is sensitive to the grace of 'God .cifll'ing. him in thegospel. He feels himself responsible to" God-who so strongly affects him that He becomes the source"of his religious life. But ~he particular form or structure of the religious life inspired by the gospel is ~as such a human project and a human construct. The whole human side of this life has developed in the course of history and is bound up with its vicissitudes. It,has t6 face the challenge of changing customs and cultures in older to survive arid renew itself. .We misunderstand the gospel message if.we base bur choice of a celibate life on a gupernatural motive alon~, as if we conceive the delibate life as a ctfoice between the natural good of marriage and .the supernatural good.of celibacy.11 Dedication of a celibat~ life to God has both immediate and mediate aspects about it, just a~ marriage itself. A couple united in Christian man'iage have an immediate duty toward God though they may mediate their love for Him through each other and thdy mayex-periefice tension and conflict in a way similar to what religious feel when they try to mediate their love for God through the world' and their fellowmen. The reli-gious life therefore has no immediate relationship to God without a worldly and human mediacy. Sometimes the immediacy of the religious life is more apparent, .'for instance, when religious live and work in community~ pray, celebrate the liturgy; at other times, in the apos-tolate, the mediacy of such a life comes into starker relief. Christian ~elibacy has also a human meaning, a natural value aside from its supernatural value, for otherwise, no matter how religiously or supernaturall~? motivated it is, it will somehow be left hanging in the air. Essen-tially it does not consist in a.chgice between God and 'a life partner; rather it is a positive choice of aw~y k)f life having natural and human meaning for those who have the iniier ability to embrace, it. Their choice, when you analyze it thoroughly, does not come down to one be-tween God and creature or between God and the world of man, but it is one which springs from the wholenes~ of his being. Celibacy of its nature permits the celibate to concen- ~ Schillebeeckx, "Het nieuwe mens- en Godsbeeld," p. 12. 4- +- +. Religious Ei~e, - Seculhri~ed Age VOL'U~E 2~, 4" 4" 4" Joseph FichOtn.Se.rC, . REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS trate upon a certain life value and to dedicate to it his entire life. He freely accepts celibacy because he is con-vinced this is the only way, special as it may be, for him to be totally expendable. The value he has discovered within himself so fascinates him that he is willing to remain unmarried to achieve it; he places himself at its service; he considers it a part of an authentic life. Christian celibacy, moreover, adds to the natural value a religious, charismatic value, especially if men and women would concentrate their whole life upon its value because they would be witnesses to the world of their conviction. Within the Church their witness to the value of celibacy is a more easily and understood sign. It is seen to be a means some men and women take for the sake of the kingdom of God. Religious give to the world an irreplaceable witness of a supratemporal element alive and at work in it. In a sense they transcend history, manifesting a supernatural value and significance--point-ers to a life beyond the present. The better they can serve mankind in this way of life, the better they are able to serve the God who founded His kingdom among men. Religious men and women will show to the world the. authenticity of their life only if they commit them-selves totally to it, convinced that their expendability makes their style of life worthwhile. Others may sacrifice marriage for the sake of a tem-poral career--scientific, social, political, cultural; but Christian celibacy on the contrary entails sacrifice for the sake of a religious value. In both instances there is a sacrifice of a human value, but in the latter a trans-cendence of the religious self becomes evident. The sacrifice points to a transcendence--men and women are willing to give up marriage not for some secular good but because they want to give evidence of the religious dimension of life.x2 The religious sign value of celibacy too easily fades out or is lost among those who engage solely in a secular career, good and beneficial to society as it may be. More than ever in the past religious must be a sign of the transcendence of God in the midst of a secularized world, even when at times this sign may appear to be nothing else than a protest against a world gone pagan. They give eschatological witness of a life that overcomes the temporality of this worldAa Christian celibacy has essentially a close affinity to the other evangelical counsels, poverty and obedience, in that they too contain positive human and religious values. Heretofore the general tendency has been to re-gard the counsels or vows too negatively and isolatedly. = Karl Rahner, "Reflections on the Theology of Renunciation," Theological Investigations, v. 3, pp. 47-57. 18 Lk 20:34-7. When a problem arises, we are prone to isolate it and to forget it may have far-reaching and entangled roots (the race problem provides a good example in those who advocate job opportunity for a cure-all). Perhaps we lose sight of that unity of purpose which brings all counsels together--the following of Christ in His kenotic life; and especially the unity of the person living a trinity of counsels. Like Christian celibacy, poverty and obedience are questionable because in our time and culture they seem to lack any positive value. Today's trend is to stress the need of getting rid of poverty and of accentuating free-dom, and thus to outdate them. The question then arises how are we religious to retain the positive, human values of the two at a time when they are considered caricatures or illusions of reality. For example, how are we to evaluate poverty in a society characterized by mass production, mass consumption, white-collar work, a so-ciety preferring to poverty a prosperity that promotes health, welfare, and education programs, and leisure? Religious poverty makes sense only if it is in keeping with the real poverty existing among peoples today. Its inherent demand is that we live on a similar basis with the poor and at the same time, precisely because we have pledged ourselves to be poor, join in the effort to better the lot of the poor. Religious poverty must square with the economical situation of society and must take into account the level or standard of living. Young reli-gious are filled with a sense of sha~'ing rather than econ-omizing (as formerly) material, intellectual, and cultural goods--a spirit more current with the times. A balance has to be struck between the means and the end of the religious institute which, in any case, will require a special moderation in food, clothing, recreation, and a determination to earn a communal living by hard work. In addition, various kinds of social work performed by religious may lend themselves to social progress. Religious community life can no longer model its authority upon the medieval feudal system. Religious authority that appeals for obedience in the name of God's will is old-fashioned; it dates back to that old era of the divine right of kings. It leads to a confused idea that superiors must reign and their opinion must prevail under the pretext of deriving their authority from God. On the other hand, wherever like-minded people are ¯ gathered into a community, however much they may be motivated by love, they will still have to hold to the inte-grating factors of authority and obedience. Faithful re-ligious do oblige themselves to observe the will of God. Such a spirit of obedience is all the more sensible when Religious Li]e, Secularized Age VOLUME 28, 1969 ~9 ÷ ,÷ ÷ Joseph FicOht~n.Cer., REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ¯30 it believes God speaks His will not only through the superior but within a life situation, within a community living together with love, friendship, dialogue, for the common good, and from within one's Own conscience. This type of obedience is not a blind following of the .superior's will rather arbitrarily determined or unex-plained, nor the keeping of meaningless, minute, mean commands, a routinized life without any commands at all, a perfunctory performance of duty without any pro-fessional competence, but an open-eyed observance of God's will as it is made known within an entire life situa-tion. The American practice of obedience functions best in an equalitarian atmosphere; Americans will not tol-erate supremacists in their midst; they are. used to bu-reaucratic (in the good sense of the word), consultative government. The religious life then consists not first and foremost in a negation, the exclusion of positive human and religious values, but in a special Christian, meaningful way of life. This life does entail the sacrifice of such values as wealth, marriage, independence which most Christians freely choose and cordially treasure. By the mere mention of the words "sacrifice" or "renunciation, we are likely to turn off people who think such practices .dwarf the human personality or stifle its spirit.14 Renun-ciations, however, are emphatically no evasion or escape f.r.om the world. The paradoxical fact about them is that they detach us to some degree from the world so as to allow fuller involvement in other ways.15 Religious do not directly choose to sacrifice earthly and human values, but they do choose a Christian way of life full of other and superior values accepted in a spirit of faith, hope, and love. Tertullian once re-marked: "Every choice implies a rejection." ~0 In choos-ing a kenotic way of lift Christ did not sacrifice human values m~rely for the sake of supernatural values; His prefere, nce was for a way of life out of various, meaning-ful messianic possibilities. Among other things His was a predilection for a celibate life because it left him free to establish the kingdom of His Father.17 Religious likewise are inclined toward a style of life which does not drive them from the world but enables them to orient their life, energy, and competence toward the world's future. Theirwhole thrust is to take the world with them to God, and this is the reason for their willingness to accept sacrifice or renunciation along with that a4 Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, n. 41; Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, n. 46. ~ K. Rahner, "Reflections." 16 Apology, 13, 2. ~"~ Lk 9:23. faithful and unconditional service they would give to God and their fellowmen. The loving service they offer concretizes that self-emptying which contradicts an egotistic spirit. The love they dedicate to God and to the world of men expressly calls for self-criticism, sacrifice, and self-emptying. If there is any emerging feature of the new-style religious life it is the conviction of its' mem-bers that they have to be present in and open to the world. The fact that the religious life is a matter of lifelong choice makes it difficult for people of our times to recog-nize its value and meaning. They are quite well con-vinced, and rightly so, that man is so built as to be un-able to appreciate the unknown dimensions of a human act binding him for a lifetime. Human psychology is so complex that for one to make such a binding decision wonld oftentimes be irresponsible, lighthearted, an act tmcharacteristic of the human will. This attitude is exemplified not only in the modern outlook upon the religious life but upon marriage too. Can man morally commit himself to an obligation that, humanly speak-ing, seems to be contradictory to his very nature? No matter how free and knowledgeable his act may be today, he cannot foresee tomorrow--he may react differently to his choice once he is put into hard circumstances where he is likely to experience his failings. To validate and give meaning to his decision, his only alternative is to entrust himself to Christian hope. That this modern mentality has a glint of truth about it, there can be no doubt. But there are values which for the moment we cannot, certainly not [ully, appreciate or approve, which nonetheless surpass the momentary situation and are imperative for the integrity of man. They have an enduring value; they hold good in any and every situation (with some exceptions) which man has to abide by if he is to be true to his own nature. In the matter of the counsels and their public pro-fession, the vows, we are dealing with a choice that in the first place is not ethically binding, it is not necessary, it is not a matter of commandment. So why should anyone be obligated to keep his choice for a lifetime if he has freely willed it in the first place? Man has an intrinsic right to freely change his mind, to decide tomorrow against his decision today. But this human vacillation is obviously giving the world much trouble. The value of following the counsels for a lifetime lies not in a freedom of choice alone but in the free and faithful acceptance of a way of life. It evidences how a religious finds it pos-sible and meaningful to dedicate himself for life despite his failings and mistakes; he accepts a lifetime of service. Fidelity too, and not only freedom, is a basic human + Religious Lile Secularized VOLUME 28, 1969 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS quality, .substantiated by both the nature of man and his history. The will-to-fidelity must have meaning therefore; it is not a mere will-o'-the-wisp; it is the expression of the human self once and for always. Despite the fact that man can point to the vicissitudes of history and to the uncertainty of the future, that he can personally leave himself open to various possibilities for the sake of ex-periment, to see how he reacts to them in the process of maturing, still his human limitations tell him that he cannot experiment or vacillate in his decisions forever. His human limitations force him to make that decision to which he can devote the totality of his life. This is what psychologists have called the "fundamental op-tion," which has its correlative reality in a fidelity to grace and is motivated by a single love, the following of Christ. The fidelity, and integrity of a life of the counsels springs from our efforts, gradual and constant, to per-sonalize them, unify them, liberate ourselves thereby from the selfish impulses which may dominate our lives. Fidelity and integrity are ours to the extent that the counsels permeate us; taken together they add up to a complete style of life. I dare say one reason for religious discontent stems from the failure to bring the three counsels within the focus of the one fundamental option. The saying, "Divide and conquer," applies here: the more divided and disrupted a life, the greater the loss of personal energy and the less resistance to difficulties.18 To be a full man is to be faithful to the true self. It is by totally giving that each of us becomes totally him-self. The full Christian is one who gives a faithful re-sponse to that divine fidelity which never fails him unless he proves faithless to himself. The basic human reason for the inviolability of the religious life is the fundamental option, and not the pub-lic vow from which the religious can be dispensed. The religious who opts for the celibate life is a living em-bodiment of the counsels, particularly celibacy; they do not exist in the abstract or in vows or in constitutions. In making a lifelong choice man wants to be true to himself and thus to bind himself in the service of a basic value. This value is an enrichment to both the religious him-self and to his community. The value, as it were, me-diates between the person and the community, recip-rocally helping the person to serve the community and the community to respect and draw benefit from the per-son by warding off some risks of instability. In its wider scope, the value of a religious community extends to the unlimited horizons of the Church and society. When See Summa theologiae, 2-2, q.44, a.4, ad 3. a person publicly announces his fundamental option to live a celibate life in a religious community, he makes an appeal to the community to help him be a full man and a full Christian. He is helped negatively when the com-munity does not interfere with or hinder the realization of his fundamental option--the development of his personality under grace; he is helped positively when the community has a concern and care for his life ful-fillment. The binding force of a vow is derived immediately from the option one makes of God but mediately from the religious community and the Church in which the religious pronounces his vow. The religious .vow has a quality of reciprocity between the religious himself and the community of his profession. Between the two there exists a sort of two-way street of right and responsibility. In our sociotechnic world there still is much need of the other-directed spirit, of teamwork and a measure of con-formity and mutual respect to obtain the same goals. The religious cannot oblige the community onesidedly, nor can the community willfully or lightly discharge its duty toward the religious. Just as the religious can prove unfaithful to his community, so can the community fail the religious particularly if it does not renew or up-date itself. The human and Christian quintessence of the reli-gious life consists of a special concentration upon a lifelong value by means of a freely willed Christian celibacy. Whatever is added to this quintessence is of human creation and consequently is historically con-ditioned. The evangelical inspiration is subsumed into a variety of concrete forms and structures and institu-tionalisations, all of which are bound up with historical experiences and cultural patterns. None of them has eter-nal value, not even the form(s) the founder or foundress gave to the gospel message. Whenever the evangelical inspiration is found wrapped in a new life experience, its particular value can be questioned and criticized by the psychologist, sociologist, economist, hygienist, anthro-pologist, and others interested in the practical life of man. They compel us to rethink the religious life as it is time-honored and -bound in our constitutions. It is a fatal mistake to identify the latter with the gospel in-spiration. The Council fathers of Vatican II were not unmindful of the fact that religious institutes periodically revise their constitutions in order to adapt themselves to time and place. Surely in calling for a radical overhauling of the religious life they were thinking of the social and cultural revolution we are passing through, when slight and detailed changes and modifications are not enough. + + + Religious Li~e, Secularized Age VOLUME 28, 1969 33 + ÷ Joseph Fichtner, 0.$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS There is much room for consolidating, deepening, and trimming. The crisis we face is deeper and graver than we know; it is clearly evidenced by the revolutionized concept of man and God in our secularized age. If the religious institute as we know it is to survive, we must make a heroic effort to restructure and revitalize it. It does not need a heart transplant, but it will need a series of blood transfusions. Needless to say, the religious institute that cannot or will not adapt will sing its own requiem. The gospel inspiration of the religious life offers no guarantee that the various traditional forms or structures have to endure forever. A religious institute may well have served its purpose and should go out of existence or coalesce with a more viable group. The life experience today is so new, so revolutionalized, so secularized, that in a sense all re-ligious institutes can be considered old which do not reinterpret the gospel in the light of the new life situa-tion. We have to bear a crisis so severe that only a radical restructuring of the religions institute will tide it over: This restructuring has to be more than an offscouring of antiquated practices, making our life easier or more sociable. It has to arise from a thorough re-evangelisation which asks questions of itself and of life as religious live it in a secularized society. Nobody can accomplish this tremendous task but the community itself, and especially its young members who are not baffled by the new life experience becat~se they have been born and raised in it. But one can hardly insist enough upon the duty of the entire community, young and old members, to enter into the restructuring phase. This is not a task divided between the young members pushing ahead with a crea-tive spirit and the old upholding the canons of ortho-doxy. Both have to be patient and indulgent. Nor is it a summoning of an endless series of meetings and discus-sions where members reflect upon their life, haggle back and forth over community life, the apostolate, the struc-tnre of authority, and what have you, yet in the mean-while make no effort at experimentation with new forms and are fearful of groping toward a reincarnation of the religious life. Who does not feel stymied by an inconsist-ency between thought and action, plan and life? Given plenty of room for experimentation, for pilot projects, not necessarily in every monastery or convent but here and there where local needs require it and the proper authorities are willing to assume the ultimate responsi-bility, where everybody enters enthusiastically and not merely tolerantly into the experimentations, thus mani-festing their loyalty to the institute, the religious life will blossom out anew, perhaps in an unsuspected way-- at least under the mysterious, unforeseeable guidance of the Holy Spirit. ANDRI~E EMERY Experiment in Counseling Religious When* I began working at the Hacker Psychiatric Clinic in 1961---on the staff of which I am the only Catholic, unless I count one doctor, who although baptized Catholic does not consider himself a member of the Church--the general opinion of the staff would have paralleled the oft-quoted but not sufficiently validated statement that many more religious than lay persons were mentally ill. At that time they thought, I guess, that most if not all religious must be at least a little crazy.~ In the past seven years the climate of opinion in our clinic has changed, not as a result of apologetic dialogu-ing but through every day, pragmatic experience. Today, if one were to ask our staff for an opinion, they would probably say that the problems of religious were rather similar to those of lay people but that on the whole the religious seemed to be more insightful, more intelligent, and more motivated toward resolving their problems. O£ course, except for the very ill, who constituted merely a fraction of our religious clientele, intelligence and moti-vation could be presupposed; otherwise they would not have asked for psychiatric help. The Hacker Clinic is not a subsidized agency but a private clinic with some 20 professionals on the staff, most of them psychiatrists (M.D.'s). Because of its private character, patients who seek help there are mostly middle-class, financially independent or well insured, and thus comparable to the well-educated and, sup-posedly, well-socialized religious. In the past three and one half years 156 religious--73 men and 83 women-- and 6 diocesan priests were seen in our clinic. I, personally, spent more than 3500 hours interviewing these men and women. Since each person * This is the text of a talk given on August 8, 1968, at the Ameri-can Canon Law Society's Workshop on Renewal at Notre Dame, Indiana. 4- Andr~e Emery, area director of the Society of Our Lady of the Way, is a sociologist and clinical counselor residing at 127 South Arden Boule-vard; Los Angeles, California 90004. VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ ÷ admitted to our clinic undergoes a full evaluation, which includes testing and psychiatric consultation and in-volves interviews with at least three different profession-als, and since some religious were seen in therapy not by me but by other members of our staff, the total hours spent by our clinic with religious and priests could easily be three or four times this number. I did not include in my 3500 hours time spent in workshops, conferences, seminars, personal interviews during educational ven-tures, nor time spent evaluating aspirants before they were accepted into a community. Thus the 3500 hours, and some, were devoted entirely to direct clinical inter-views, either for evaluation or for therapy. The 156 religious seen in the past three and one half years--118 of whom were finally professed--represent 34 communities. Of the finally professed 66 were religious sisters, 5 were religious priests, 31 were major seminar-ians, 14 were teaching brothers, and two were members of a secular institute of men. One religious priest was on leave of absence, one woman religious was exclaustrated, and three were dispensed from perpetual vows shortly before coming to the clinic. Of the remaining 38 religi-ous, 21 had temporary vows--5 men and 16 women-- and 17 were novices, of whom 14 were men. Only about 10 per cent of these patients were diag-nosed psychotic and approximately another 10 per cent as severely neurotic. The majority merely had problems, probably not very different from those who did not seek our help. The median age of all religious men and women and diocesan priests whom we saw was 28 years. The median age of the men was somewhat lower than this figure, be-cause of the relatively large number of seminarians and novices among them, and that of the women was some-what higher. Only 19 per cent of the women and 8 per cent of the men were over 40 years of age. The services rendered by the clinic varied. 78, fewer than half of the total, were simply evaluated by us. Of these we recommended therapy or counseling for 37, but to our knowledge only in ten instances was our recom-mendation followed. The other 27 did not receive the recommended help. At present, there are 10 men and 10 women religious in therapy in our clinic, 7 of them for less than a year, 13 for more than a year, and there were 64 others in therapy who are no longer coming. 22 hospital patients were visited daily; the majority who were outpatients were seen once or twice a week, and a few follow-up cases were seen once a month. All were seen in individual therapy, but 15 were also in group therapy. Priests and brothers attended group sessions with lay men, the sisters had their own group. 86, or more than half of all the religious and priests seen by us in the past three and one half years, told us that they wished to leave the religious or priestly life. Had we had longer contact with those whom we have merely evaluated, the number might have been even larger. We did not ask them directly about this and not all volunteered unasked-for information in the first in-terview. Exactly half of those who mentioned leaving did leave, most of them shortly after evaluation and without hav-ing been given an opportunity for further counseling-- or perhaps not desiring it. Ten who were in therapy in our clinic left their communities after therapy was in-terrupted against their wishes or against our recommen-dation. Of the 74 whose therapy with us was not interrupted, only four left--three during therapy and one after mu-tually agreed termination of therapy. These figures speak for themselves: problems can and should be solved rather than run from. After listening carefully to a relatively large number of religious men and women, I asked myself the ques-tion: Are their problems similar or different from those that weigh down our other patients? We cannot separate our personal growth and our in-dividual crises from the historical development and con-temporary crises of the group with which we are identi-fied. There is no human being who is free from the influence of the society into which he was born and in which he has been raised. While we sift perceptions and experiences through our personal physical and psycho-logical apparatus that is very particularly our own and give them special emphasis and slant, our apperceptions, our symbols, our values, our conflicts, our likes and dis-likes, the very traits that we think of as most personal, most expressive of our individuality, are suprapersonal. They are consensual with the culture in which we are rooted; at least they must be such if we are to be con-sidered "normal" and not "odd" by our contemporaries. This was brought home to us rather early in our ex-perience with religious patients. At that time some of our non-Catholic staff still expected to find intolerable conditions triggering if not causing the acute problems of religious. (Off the record, I have seen conditions in religious houses of men which I, or most any woman, religious or lay, could not have tolerated, and I am sure that some men, in turn, would feel the same way about our houses.) But to come back to the clinic: Not more than half a dozen of our religious patients described without corn-÷ ÷ ÷ Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 37 4. Andr~e Emery REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 38 plaint, external circumstances in their convents that seemed intolerable to us. The remarkable thing was that. the communities from which they came were all foreign in their origin and rule and also in their membership. The conditions described would have seemed intolerable to most American religious, too; yet the religious who lived under these conditions, including our foreign-born patients, did not find it particularly intolerable. And so we had to face the fact that our judgment of what was tolerable or intolerable was made from' the point of view of national culture, which was the same for American doctors as for American religious from active congrega-tions. Taking this basic dependency on the culture group for granted, we cannot be astonished that many of the basic problems of religious men and women in the United States do not seem to differ greatly from those of other American men and women. The growth of Western civilization, together with its stratification and specialization, has created models of shifting, sectional, and contradictory prototypes, from Ronald Reagan to Martin Luther King Go Malcolm X. Ours is a mobile society, multi-valued, materialistic, outer directed, as the sociologist would say, easily brain-washed by mass media, advertisements, fads, and. ffish-ions. It is peer-group oriented rather than hierarchical and, at present, is plagued by rebellions, which while not necessarily more violent than those of the past are cer-tainly more ubiquitous. Change and not stability is the epitome of this kind of society even in human relationships, as the steadily in-creasing divorce rate dramatically shows. That time, and thus change, is a human dimension was already recog-nized by Heraclitus 2500 years ago. But the rate of change is not constant; some structures change slower than others; and there are periods when the same entity, be it matter, living being, or human society, slows down or accelerates. The period in human life when change is most evident is adolescence. Yet Erikson, who is perhaps the best known psychologist of this country, calls this period "moratorium"--delay of adulthood, which the young person needs to integrate earlier childhood experiences and to learn to conform to the larger society which will soon replace his immediate family environment. In our Western world--and, particularly in the United States which is considered the apex of it--this morato-rium on adulthood has become extended far beyond the period of physical and sexual maturation and," thus, adolescent problems he.avily "interlace and aggravate the problems that young adults, as a matter of course, must face. It is not that our young who marry or enter religion are much younger in age than were those in former generations, but their readiness to assume adult respon-sibilities, particularly continuing responsibilities, seems to be less. Young and not-so-young religious who were born and nurtured in our culture are no less exempt from this extended moratorium and its consequences than are their married counterparts. Is it really--as we often hear---~the hierarchical struc-ture of religious communities that keeps religious im-mature? More immature than their lay counterparts? We did not find religious more immature or more frequently immature. But, obviously, those who did not wish to assume responsibility, for whatever reason, had a better excuse, a ready-made rationalization. Still, the child wife, the happy-go-lucky husband are not rarities either. The impulsive adolescent who marries or enters religion, having "fallen in love," will back out quickly, and this will be less traumatic for the religious than for the married. But those who cling to the idealized image con-structed by their immature motivations and resist facing reality---even a reality not inferior to their fantasy, just different--will experience severe crises, in marriage or religious life alike--one, two, five, ten years after their initial commitment. The fantasy wears away bit by bit, leaving them numb, empty, and somehow feeling cheated. I was told with great feeling by a 25-year-old mother of four that she had just discovered that she was not a teen-ager any more but "mommy" and that she did not like it a bit. As a matter of fact, she did not know whether she liked children at all. And I had to listen to a very angry, very depressed young superior of 28, who "just wanted to do a good job," but whose ambition was thwarted by the non-cooperation of several sisters, in-cluding one severely mentally ill, and who found that she could not maintain the unruffled, cooly kind exterior that earned her the early appointment to office. The pedestal broke, both under the community where "such things could happen" and under her who could not live up to the fantasy ideal. But to go a step further: Not only does our culture extend the moratorium on adulthood, it openly vaunts that adulthood is not worth aiming for. We have a cult of youth--the historical development of which, though relevant, cannot be presented here. Youth has ceased to be regarded as a transition period in which adult living is learned, in which adult identities are crystalized. It has become an aim, an identity, a subculture, emulated in some ways by the broadest segments of society. Who wants to be an adult today? (And who wants to be a + + ÷ Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 39 A~dr~e JEnt~ry REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS religious superior?) The model wears a miniskirt not only on her hips but in her (or his) head. At the same time, in strange contradiction but with unavoidable logic, we have put terrible responsibilities and burdens on young shoulders, probably more so than did any former generation. One of the main characteris-tics that differentiate human from animal life is time binding: the ability to transmit experience from one-generation to another. To demand from young people that they learn all the answers "on the go," pragmati-cally, by experimentation, to pretend that in the few years of their lives they could and should discover or duplicate the accumulated experience of mankind is sheer hypocrisy, or what is worse, delusion. The im-mature cannot become mature in human society with-out guidance. To quote Erikson: "By abdicating, by abrogating responsibility, the older generation deprives the young from forceful ideals which must exist for their sake--if only so that they can be rebelled against." Ra-tionalizing our inconsistencies and vacillations, our cow-ardice and lack of principles, with the excuse that it frees them from dependency does not help the young to grow. Is the peer society of the street gang superior to the authoritarian family still found in urban minority groups and in farming areas? If we elected (or, God forbid, appointed) only religious under 35 years of age into all offices, would that really guarantee a better gov-ernment than when we acted according to a different cultural pattern and gave the offices only to the old and supposedly "wise"? Are the younger more tolerant, do they show more empathy, more Christian virtue than the old? Or the other way around? No. The generation gap is legitimate only as an ado-lescent phenomenon--as a pause (though a very active pause) in which the young person has left childhood behind and has not yet reached adulthood. Otherwise the gap is mostly semantic: personalities clashing because they do not use the same symbols, same words, for the same concepts. Interestingly, now it is the old who are expected to learn the jargon of the young and not the other way round. I still smile when I remember a recent conference attended by some 200 people where no one was less than twice 16, and most three times that age and more, and where we had to sing Ray Repp songs during Mass--which in my opinion are both poor music and poor theology--just to show that we were "with it." To this point I have spoken only of a basic social fact--I don't like to call it problem--that affects both lay people and religious in our culture and which is at the root of many symptoms that we encounter in the clinic. There is an important facet of the present confusion that (oncerns religious and priests in particular. At a recent discussion in our clinic I was asked whether I could specify the ideal, the model of a religious--his own concept of his role or identity. I had to admit that had I been asked this question ten years ago, or even five, I would have thought it answerable--but not now. Incidentally, I have asked this same question of several major superiors and received just as vague a reply. It becomes more and more clear that the theology of religi-ous life still needs to be written. Up to the time Pope John opened the windows of the Vatican, we have had--and to some extent we still have--a subculture of religious institutes, distinct though related to othe~ subcultures of the Catholic Church. In the United States the religious subculture was colored by Irish-French, or rather 'French-Irish Ca-tholicism. This religious subculture, this cultural island, was well defined, stable, hierarchical, in contrast to the mobile, multi-valued, peer-oriented culture that sur-rounded it. It had not only a particular philosophy but also its own symbolism and language--understood only by the initiated but understood by all of them much in the same way. Because of its confidence-inspiring stability and the idealism of its teachings, it greatly appealed to many: to the searching, to the young who wanted to cut the apron strings but still needed support, to those who needed status, or those who wished to leave behind materialism, competition, and self-seeking. In a sense it was all to all: it provided security and challenge, asceticism and freedom from cares, opportunity for self-development and oppor-tunity for self-sacrifice. Or so it seemed. As we have been a nation on wheels for some time, not only the present generation of religious but at least two previous ones had to do quite a bit of adjusting to this distinctly delineated structure when they left their families of origin. Perhaps the children of foreign-born parents found it easier to adjust--perhaps not. It de-pended on how much they introjected or, conversely, rejected the values of their primary group. But whether first, second, or fourth generation of Americans, all who entered attempted to adjust to religious life as they found it. I said, attempted to adjust, because our early up-bringing cannot be completely eradicated and conflict patterns will persist. Many of our seriously ill patients were older men and women: some chronically ill with symptoms of chronic frustration in attempted adjust-ment; some acutely ill, with primary processes breaking through the surface of more or less successful controls exercised for years. Adjustment to the religious life, however, has not been 4- Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 4] ÷ ÷ ÷ A~tdr~e Emery REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS entirely a one-way street. Needs and values which the individual member brought from his primary culture had also an effect on the religious institutes. These slowly changed, became more American in character, sought some kind of equilibrium with the broader society around them. Still, on the whole, they remained distinctive. Thus, the young person who entered might have found it more or less ego syntonic, more or less cor-responding to his personality and early upbringing, but rarely found it completely so. The religious way of life always demanded sacrifice, self-denial, rejection of some earlier values. At the same time it offered sufficient re-wards to enable the individual to exist in it. And then, if I may say so without offending, after Vatican II we suddenly changed horses mid-stream. The point here is not whether the change was for the better or for the worse, and most of us hope and trust that it will be to the better; nor am I questioning the need, in some respects the overdue need, for change. I merely wish to underscore the unavoidable problems that arise from such a massive and headlong change. For the sake of illustration, imagine that you are a teacher, nurse, or drill-press operator and on short notice you are told that your job description and the require-ments for employment have been redefined and that the procedures as well as the rewards have been changed. Moreover, not only are the old role definitions super-seded, but you are told that you must get new directives and guidelines--except that you are not sure from whom or what. Would you not get upset? As one of my patients said: "Formerly we knew that if we got on the boat that went in the right direction and didn't get of[, we were ok. Now we are made personally responsible to get where we are going, but no one has yet thought it through how to get there." Under such circumstances it is understandable that severe conflicts develop. You will say that most of the changes were thoroughly discussed and dialogued, that they were not sudden, that opinions were polled, votes were taken. No one's good will and integrity are being questioned. But even if experiments Were discussed beforehand, did we evalu-ate them thoroughly afterwards? This conference is an attempt to do so. Just how long is it that we have been discussing them? Two years, three years, five years? If we cannot integrate complex childhood experiences during the normal years of adolescence and must extend the moratorium, just how long do you think we need to sift and integrate the huge mass of divergent opinions, rules, roles, and behavior that has been sprung on us in the recent past? A frequent consequence is panic, and not necessarily among the old timers who now have an excuse to remain passive, to leave the initiative to the young, and, if they cannot resist temptation, to sit back and criticize. It is more often the young who panic, because the responsi-bility is too great. Hence exodus of many young progres-sives. Willy-nilly, they accept re.sponsibility for them-selves, but not for the groupl And one cannot blame them; the rules of the game are equivocal and they do I . not know what will prove rewarding. When the religious role is merely a thin veneer on the .I personality, under the abrasion of uncertainties and clashes it wears off. Religio6s ,,who s'eeme,d, to be well adjusted now revert to tlaeir real selves--and since public disapproval has diminished--leave the subculture with which they were not fully identified. It is only lately that we have come to recognize that ¯ I keeping young religious isolated for long periods in the exclusive company of their peers, even for the sake advanced education, did not help them develop ~rich human qualities and did not foster community spirit. They tended to remain a sepa, rate group which out of psychological necessity had to f, ancy itself better and dif-ferent from others, inside and outside the community. The unreality was further inflated when the young sisters were assigned, strmght from school, into positions which their lay ¯counterparts ~could achieve only .after many years of hard work. We liave seen the young Ph.D. who was made a full professojr right after she received her degree leave the community when she encountered the first serious obstacle; the[ young R.N., supervisor without ever having been a rookie nurse, getting doctors, staff, and patients into turmoil land feeling "defeated for good"; the young priest, promiiing member of his order, going literally on a sit-down strike because he could not do all that he expected from hi~nself and from others. Into this group belong also t~e men and women whose delayed adolescence led to so-cAlled "late blooming" and who leave religious life because of real or purported .I sexual oroblems. In our experience, there were far fewer of .these than generally assumed, at least among the women religious. Here I must stop and quali[y~ what I have just said. In the last two months 78 case histories accumulated on my desk, of clients not seen by us in the clinic but about whom I was consulted by a non-sectarian adoption agency. These are cases of seventy-eight ex-religious, most them college graduates, many with advanced degrees, who left their convents 6 to 18 months ago and who are expecting a child out of wedlock. They are mostly in their middle thirties, and most of the fathers of the child ÷ ÷ ÷ Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 Andr~e Emery REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 44 to be are members of underprivileged minority groups. Not one was a victim of rape. Practically all said the same thing: our community did not change fast enough with the times; our community is not involved with the poor and underprivileged. We wanted to get dose to people in a personal apostolate (none of them were trained social workers); we wanted to live with them in the inner citymand get involved. And so they did. A few of them stated that they were advised by priests to leave the celibate life and get married. But, one of them added bitterly, they never warned her how few eligible men there were in her age bracket. Not knowing these women personally, I cannot judge how many had serious sexual problems, for which this certainly was not the answer, and how many were naively following fashions or using broadly preached but not sufficiently thought through slogans to excuse their im-mature acting out. As regards the quoted advice, it seems to be freely given to both men and women religious, as if marriage were a cure for sexual problems, to be used on prescriptionmwhich incidentally doesn't work rather than a sacrament and a responsible human relationship requiring maturity and mutual respect from the part-ners. ~Arhile some of the foregoing is a regrettable but pre-dictable reaction to stress, enhanced by a cultural incli-nation to buy what is advertised or what is in fashion, irregardless, there is an additional psychological com-ponent in the existing confusion among the religious. When a person searches for a new identity or new iden-tification, by definition he ceases to act in the role of a mature adult. He regresses to quasi-adolescence, to turmoil, indecisiveness, influencibility, impulsive acting out. We have seen this syndrome frequently in refugees and adult immigrants when they tried to adjust to their new country and its culture. The search for new mean-ing, new relevance, new identity in the religious life, whether to the better or worse, per se increases the turmoil caused by other individual and social factors. Perhaps the present quasi-adolescent upheaval of the religious is unavoidable, and hopefully it will lead us into a more and better integrated religious adulthood; but it is painful for those who go through it and more often than not embarrassing for the onlooker. Having become aware of widespread immaturity in comtemporary society and of its consequences, we are now inclined to fall into another pit. We are tempted to demand the impossible: that the girls and boys who enter our institutes, seminaries, convents, be mature. Per-haps maturity could be demanded if we would up the entrance age by some 20 years, in the hope that someone else would give the young the necessary guidance and would develop their personalities for religious life. We cannot stock novitiates and seminaries with sure bets--we have to take chances. We cannot screen out all who are immature, because if we do we abdicate as religious educators, as adults who take the responsibility for nurturing and forming the young. And certainly we should not screen out anyone on the basis of one test, given in absentia and scored by someone who never saw the applicant in person. On the other hand, we should not let young religious take perpetual vows when there is a serious question regarding their suitability. Severely neurotic persons, not to speak of psychotic or potentially psychotic ones, should not be burdened hy commitments which they will not be able to keep. But, when a professed member of a community be-comes disturbed or mentally ill, do we have a right to say that he should never have entered, that she never had a vocation, that they should be let go if at all possible? Are only the perfect seated at the banquet of the Master? Father Orsy last night said that St. Peter would not have been canonized--I don't think he would have been ac-cepted into a novitiate. Are our disturbed brothers and sisters very different from us but for being harder hit by suffering? Who is my neighbor? Only the under-privileged in the inner city? These troubled men and women in our communities are our closest neighbors. They are our poor: we have accepted them, we formed or tried to form or deform them, and we must bear their burden if we are to be called Christians. There are great differences in attitudes toward disturbed religious in their communities. Trying to get rid of them, with the shallow excuse that they never had a vocation and never should have been accepted, is injustice, even if there should be some truth in it; sending them from house to house or cramming them into the motherhouse is no answer to the problem either, and neither is the plan to live in an apartment with chosen friends the solution. When I said good-bye to the chief of our clinic, he said: "You will make a theological point, won't you? [He meant some reference to religion.] After all, you will be speaking to religiousl" I am tempted to belabor for a couple of minutes the often heard remark that no one wants to commit him-self today--which is true to a certain extent. But more often than not we found that persons, religious or lay, are desperately hungry for commitment. They want to give themselves to something or someone. They so very much want to entrust themselves to some group or indi-vidual. But they have not learned to trust because they Counseling Religious VOLUME ~'8, J.969 + ÷ Andr~e Emery REVIEW'FOR R'EL'~G IOUS ,t6 have not found anyone really trustworthy in their young years. Therefore they want and need some tangible evi-dence of appreciation, something in exchange--love or ~uccess--and they want a way out if things do not work out. Their needs are unfulfilled childhood needs; their reservations are rooted deep down in bone and marrow. The concept of commitment is not easily reconciled with such reservations--certainly not Christian commitment which must be an adult act of self-giving. I know that the saints and particularly the mystics are not "in" now, but rarely have I found a better description of the "perfec-tion of charity" (if I may use such an antiquated term) than in one of St. Catherine of Siena's mystical dialogues when she heard our Lord say." I have placed you in the midst of your fellows that you may do to them what you cannot do to me, that is to say, that you may love your neighbor of free grace without expecting any return from him. Someone asked how to tell whether a tree brought good fruit? We are too often inclined to think of success as good fruit. From where did we, Christians, get this notion anyhow? Of instant success as a must? Or even as hard-earned reward of the just? Christianity always was a losing cause, at least in the short run. Few apostles have reaped where they have sown. There was a small item in the Los Angeles morning paper the day I left home. I cut it out because of its deep significance for us. The follow-ing is an excerpt from it: The finest sermon he ever heard, said Dr. Eugene Carson Blake, was just three sentences long. It was delivered by Miss Kathleen Bliss of the Church of England, before the Central Committee of the World Council of Churches last year. In a very brief closing service we had sung the ancient hymn, "Veni Creator Spiritus". Dr. Bliss then read from the Gospel of Luke in the 4th Chapter, the account of Jesus returning to Nazareth and entering into the Synagogue and opening a book where it read, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me because He has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovering the sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to pro-claim the acceptable year of the Lord." ,, Then Dr. Bliss spoke her three sentences. Our hymn was a prayer in which we dared to ask for the presence and guid-ance of the Holy Spirit. We never know whether He will come or what He will do to us if He comes. I remind you that the scripture account which we have just heard goes on to tell us that Jesus' neighbors in Nazareth then tried to kill Him." .There is another variation on the success theme that is even more disturbing than the naive expectation of in-st~ int reward. In our work with religious we frequently came face to face with a man or woman, capable, tal-ented, "who was deeply angry, resentful, depressed, be-cause he or she was not omnipotent. Some wanted to change others, some wanted to change themselves, some sought external success, recognition, others the persdnal satisfaction of achievement, or, occasionally, material goods. None of them faced "this carnal reality," the limits of human existence, in themselves and outside. They wanted something and therefore it had to be. If it did not happen, they went on a "strike" or they became negative, withdrawn, maneuvering-~each according to his personality. Passive-aggressive? Not always. But what-ever the pathology or the character structure, with one's "third ear" one perceived the echo of the ancient pro~nise: And you will be like God--all knowing, all powerful. When the promise did not come true, there came forth the even more ancient answer: Non serviam. I will not serve. Familiar? Some years ago it was thought that emotionally dis-turbed and mentally ill people were often preoccupied with religion. Actually, in certain crisis periods of life, such as 5-6 years in childhood, in adolescence, in the so-called change of life, when approaching death, people become preoccupied with basic human problems: life-death, love-hate, God or the void. There is a certain logic in that people should turn to God in periods of suffering and turmoil--though sometimes this might be expressed in the form of cursing. I might have misunder-stood one of the earlier speakers, and if I did, I apolo-gize, but it seemed to me that she said that the suffering and the dying are always completely self-centered. Not always, as many concentration camp cases have shown, to mention only extreme instances. When an individual is deeply rooted in a culture that recognizes the tran-scendent, and if his childhood trust was permitted to grow into adult faith, even if he experienced shorter or longer periods of emotional fatigue (to use an euphe-mism) in high and low periods of life he will return to God. This is why I was deeply shaken by the fact that of the 161 religions and priests to whom I have listened for several thousand hours, only two, one priest and one brother, mentioned God. No matter how much I would like to shun it, how can I avoid asking the question: What tragic lack in us, Christian parents of the present generation, religious men and women, teachers, nurses, social workers, catechists, what tragic lack in us has buried God so deep that even the suffering and the troubled cannot reach Him today? Indeed, there is a need for renewal that goes far beyond adaptation. + ÷ ÷ Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 ANDREW J. WEIGERT Social Dimensions of Religious Clothing Andrew J. Wei-gert is a faculty member of the De-partment of Soci-ology and Anthro-pology at the University of Notre Dame in Notre Dame, Indiana 46556. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS The Catholic experience as presently interpreted in America is undergoing many changes.1 In the midst of such widespread change, there may be a danger in under-valuing certain sociological dimensions of clothing in the case of the religious orders, both men and women, and to some extent for the diocesan clergy as well. The prob-lem is no doubt most pervasive in the religious orders of women. At the same time, there seems to be some un-clarity and lack of simple sociological principles to in-form the discussion and aid in the decision making. A folk adage has it that "the cowl does not make the monk," but the resistance offered to changes in religious garb from certain quarters makes it apparent that some may think differently. Nor is such resistance always to be attributed to unthinking conservativism. It may be based on a well founded respect for the "reality" and social, power of appearances. These realistic bases for questioning the advisability of change for the sake of change deserve respect and should be distinguished from various traditions which grow around uniforms (for example, saints appearing in a certain habit) as attempts to legitimize and sanctify a uniform for all times, places, and social orders. The present discussion of religious clothing will focus around two value orientations which are taken to be more or less conflicting: witnessing for other-worldly (transcendent) values, and identifying with this-worldly (immanent) values. In order to witness for other-worldly values, an individual must be recognized as standing for such values; and the sign, for example, a uniform which cannot be identified with contemporary cultural styles, which enables him (throughout this paper, the him will refer to the "religious," both male and female, with all wish to thank Sisters Rosina Fieno, C.S.J., and Mary Margaret Zaenglein, I.H.M., for criticizing .an earlicr version of this paper. II due respects to the latter) to be recognized as a witness also sets him apart from non-witnessing persons. Simi-larly, in order to be identified with this-worldly values, an individual must be recognized as belonging to the group which shares these values. Social recognition, as mediated by clothing, is a cognitive process whereby the viewer classifies and labels individuals according to his interpretation of their tailored appearance. An in-escapable social-psychol0gical dimension of every social order is the necessary visual "giving off" of information about his place and identity in that society which each individual proffers in his appearance. Stated aphoris- ~tic.ally, a member of society cannot not "appear," tha