Abstract Issue 50.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1991. ; Review for Religious Volume 50 Number 2 March/April 1991 Beyond the Liberal Model Exiting from Religious Life Thoughts about Science and Prayer The Death of Dearly Loved~Friends 50/~INIVERSARY VOLUME REVIEW FOR RELIGIOIJS (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at St. Louis University by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus; Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428: St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535-3048. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to REVIEW I:Oa REI.IGIOUS; |~.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Subscription rates: Single copy $3.50 plus mailing costs. One-year subscription $15.00 plus mailing costs: two-year subscription $28.00 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover for subscription informa-tion and mailing costs. © 1991 REVIEW FOR REt,mloUS. David L. Fleming, S.J. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Michael G. Harter, S.J. Elizabeth McDonough, O.P. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Edito'rs Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors David J. Hassel, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Wendy Wright, Ph.D. Advisory Board Mary Margaret Johanning, S.S.N.D. Sean Sammon, F.M.S. Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B. March/Api'il 1991 Volume 50 Number 2 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor should be sent to RF:\'mw FOR RF:LtGtOt~S; 3601 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" shnuld be addressed Io Elizabeth McDonough, O.P.; 5001 Eastern Avenue; P.O. Box 29260; Washington, D.C. 20017. Back issues should be ordered from REVtEW ~'o~ REt.mto~Js; 3601 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of Print" issues are available from University Microfilms International: 300 N. Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to: Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. PRISMS. When we Christians refer to the centrality of the paschal mystery, we mean that Jesus' passion, death, and resurrection somehow remain the necessary pattern for our human living in relation to God. In the gospels, Jesus often uses nature images or parables of human activity to point us towards the pattern of his dying and rising--a pat-tern in which we all who are his followers profess to share. Today it seems that we easily turn to the seed dying to bring forth life or to the metamorphosis of caterpillar to butterfly to gain insight into our way of human growth or maturity. Yet we find it hard to go from the dark beauty of nature imagery to the stark reality of Christ on a cross. So, too, the contemporary patterns of various psychological growth models can be-come so enlightening for our understanding of human development that they seem to transfix our gaze. We may stop short of viewing our mod-els through the stronger lens of a Christian optic. We should not be ungrateful that we can make use today of helpful imagery from nature and models from psychology in order that we may better understand and respond to a particularly confusing time in our world and in our Church, in religious life and in priesthood, in the fam-ily and in the parish. But the pattern of Christ--with his presence en-abling us to enter once again into his paschal mystery--remains central to our Christian focus on life issues. Rather than being confronted with a transition darkness relieved only by images and metaphors, we as Chris-tians believe that we are always being summoned into the mystery of God's transforming action breaking into the vagaries of our natural and human worlds. We struggle neither as victims nor as "Rambo" fight-ers. Instead, we are invited once again to ally ourselves with the Lord in bringing about God's reign more fully into our own lives and into the world we affect. Because our God is a God always actively working with our created world, we live and pray and work in a loving relationship with God--always developing and being purified, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad. The elements of passion, death, and resurrection are touched upon in various ways by various articles in this issue. Our first article, "A Personal Memoir: The Arrupe Years," by Roland Faley, T.O.R., is a unique tribute to the former Jesuit superior general Pedro Arrupe, who died on February 5, 1991. Arrupe provided leadership and gave hope to 161 162 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 many religious congregations through much of the paschal-mystery times for religious life following upon Vatican II; he himself suffered his own paschal mystery through a debilitating stroke in 1981, then through the difficult time when a papal delegate was imposed upon the Jesuits, and finally through his lingering half-life over.the past seven years since his resignation as general. In the darkness of religious-life renewal, an image of reweaving has captured the imagination of many. From her perspective of working with many religious groups in renewal efforts, Elizabeth McDonough, O.P., in "Beyond the Liberal Model: Quo Vadis?" assesses some of the strands of reweaving efforts and makes her own effort to suggest ways towards deeper faith realities that remain unrealized at present. Grappling with the reality of the paschal mystery in the hard deci-sions about existence facing some religious congregations is the subject of the article by.Marie Beha, O.S.C. Eileen O'Hea, C.S.J., considers the dying process of the individual who considers leaving a religious com-munity and the needed response of the community. Renee Yann, R.S.M., reflects on the power of community in the special moment of the death of dearly loved friends. Three articles on pray,.: may shed some light as we move through some dark passages in our ever developing love-life with God. Benedict Auer, O.S.B., expands the Benedictine lectio approach with some in-sights into the use of videos. Edgar Bourque, A.A., inculturates an Augustinian way of praying into our American context. Some refresh-ing ways of understanding prayer are presented through the medium of science by Dennis Sardella. Helpful and comprehensive describe the treatment of vocation min-istry by Jeanne Schweickert, S.S.S.F., in her "Co-creators of History: United States Vocation Ministry." The same words apply equally well to the article by Kenneth Davis, O.F.M.Conv., "U.S. Hispanic Catho-lics: Trends and Recent Works." May the Lenten and Easter season~ guide us all further into the pas-chal mystery which focuses our life with the Lord. David L. Fleming, S.J. A Personal Memoir: The Arrupe Years Roland J. Faley, T.O.R. Father Roland J. Faley lived in Rome as vicar general of the Third Order Regular of St. Francis, i 971 - 1977, and superior general 1977- i 983. In December 1990 he completed his term as executive director of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men (CMSM). His mailing address is St. Thomas More Friary; 650 Jackson St., N.E.; Washington, D.C. 20017. The time was the early seventies. Rome was still caught up in a spirit of postconciliar excitement. Pope Paul VI's inherent caution in the face of the untried was tempered by an unfettered spirit in the air which wanted to let things happen. The present writer was returning to Rome after an absence of more than a decade, having been elected to the general gov-ernment of his Franciscan Order. I had been a student in Rome at the time of John XXIII's election. Those had been heady days of great prom-ise, at that time more a hope than anything else. It was only after the council, years later, that the real struggle of aggiornamento could be felt. Pedro Arrupe was the general of the Jesuits. Vibrant and spirited are adjectives that hardly do him justice. He was also president of the Un-ion of Superiors General (USG), the organization made up of the heads of men's religious institutes in the Church: It was a job for which Ar-rupe was ideally suited although one always wondered how he found the time. It was often said that the first time he was elected to the office by his peers, it was because he was general of the Jesuits. His subsequent reelections (and there were at least four) were because he was Pedro Ar-rupe. The story says a great deal about the man, quite apart from his of-fice. It was not long after I became active in the USG that Arrupe asked me to serve on the Justice and Peace Commission and later named me 163 164 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 to be the press officer for the Union. It was in the latter capacity espe-cially that I came to know Arrupe the man. The Justice Agenda Arrupe steered the Society of Jesus through a very difficult period in its history. The thirty-first and thirty-second general congregations had set the concerns of the world's neediest at the center of the Society's mis-sion. A strong emphasis on social justice permeates the documents of these general congregations. The passage from documents to im-plementation was marked by an inevitable reaction, not all of it positive, within the Society itself. Arrupe was undaunted. The new direction reso-nated with his whole life as a missionary. The evil of the arms race was eminently clear to one who had survived the first use of the atomic bomb in Japan, 1945. For Arrupe this postconciliar direction of his institute was not a ques-tion of personal choice. It had been mandated by the Society's highest authority, a general congregation; for the general of the institute, im-plementation was simply not an option. In that spirit of obedience, he charted a new course which made strong demands on the whole Society of Jesus. On the level of general government alone it required personnel and resources not easily commandeered. He never wavered in the pur-suit of a course that for him bore the faces of countless deprived and suf-fering people. In responding to any issue, Arrupe's enthusiasm was infectious. He was the idea man, the animator, willing to leave details and implemen-tation to others. At times he seemed unrealistic, but he never left one un-inspired. The great picture was always there. An unforgettable moment occurred during the refugee crisis of the late seventies. The movement of peoples was felt in many parts of the world, with Rome affected by a large influx of people from Ethiopia. A visit to Arrupe from Robert McNamara, then president of the World Bank, proved to be a real catalyst in moving the refugee project forward. An urgent response was called for by the sheer volume of people arriv-ing in Rome after the revolution in Ethiopia. The greatest need was for housing and food. The Jesuits opened their own refugee office to address the problem internationally and in Rome. At the same time Arrupe gal-vanized the forces of men and women general superiors. Through the built-in network of the two Unions of Superiors General, housing was found for the Ethiopians throughout the city, especially in the genera-lates themselves. A hot meal was served each evening to hundreds of per-sons in the basement of the GesO, the main Jesuit church in the heart The Arrupe Years of the city. It was always interesting to meet religious leaders of interna-tional congregations ladling soup or serving pasta at the refugee center. Arrupe took an active interest in the work of the USG's Justice and Peace Commission. He urged its members to respond to known viola-tions of human rights anywhere on the world scene, to become involved in the Year of the Woman (1976), and to sensitize members of religious institutes on the role of justice in religious life, especially in the wake of the 1971 Synod of Bishops. His leadership in social justice was firm and steady, but never abrasive or confrontational. He had, for example, an unusual sensitivity for diplomatic concerns and was a strong believer in the power of persuasion. But his commitment to the thesis of justice as a constitutive element of the Gospel message was total. This was jus-tice in the service of faith, an idea integral to Arrupe's thinking. There was no divorcing faith and justice; it was, moreover, a justice rooted in love. For Arrupe, it was unthinkable to speak of a struggle for justice apart from a belief in that justice for all people willed by God himself. Christian Unity Ecumenism was still a fledgling enterprise on the Roman scene when Arrupe moved the USG toward a better understanding of men and women religious of the other churches. In the early seventies, Michael Fisher, provincial of the Anglican Franciscans from England, and Ar-rupe decided to initiate a permanent consultation on religio,us life among religious of the Catholic, Reformed, and Anglican communions. The con-sultation continues to meet on a biannual, basis and is now in its second decade of life. During those Roman years it became common to have non- Catholic religious present for the assemblies of the USG; on many lev-els, the participation was reciprocal. This was a new venture, largely un-tested, the success of which was by no means guaranteed. To a great ex-tent it was Arrupe's breadth of vision and the warmth of his personality that carried the day. There was an immediacy and directness about him that broke down resistance. In the ecumenical field, he was willing to leave the doctrinal differences to others; it was the faith that was shared which excited him. In the area of religious life, the understanding of the vows, community, and prayer differed little from one denomination to the other. I remember vividly the bonding that quickly developed among the participants of those early years. When discussion centered on the nu-merical difference in the size of the communities, it was often very amus-ing. It was fascinating to see Arrupe, whose religious institute numbered close to 35,000, engaged in intense conversation with an Anglican su- 166 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 perior of some forty religious. Numbers mattered little; it was the mean-ing of the life that counted. Conversation with the World Vatican II's Church in the Modern World fit perfectly with Arrupe's sense of church. While not unmindful of the dangers present in the meet-ing between faith and culture, he remained a strong proponent of incul-turation. A spirit of withdrawal or disengagement from the world, or even worse, a siege mentality, was alien to Arrupe. Nowhere was this more evident than in his dealing with the media. It was during these same Roman years that Donald Campion, S.J., had been named the Jesuit gen-eralate's chief communications officer. Arrupe had long been keenly aware of the necessity for a high-level spokesman and worked to make it possible. Campion was privy to discussion and decision-making at all levels and, therefore, in the best position to deal effectively with the me-dia. Such openness was a quantum leap forward from the spirit of reti-cence, even fear, which was so much a part of religious officialdom. The latter was a spirit well symbolized by the small sliding window at the por-ter's office of the Jesuit generalate and countless other Roman headquar-ters. It was a far cry from an "open door" policy. As press officer for the USG, I enjoyed the same latitude. I was en-couraged to be present for all meetings, even when the most sensitive issues were being discussed. I was free to share the views and activities of the Union with both the secular and religious press. If discretion was called for, I was expected to exercise it, but the prevailing climate was one-of as much openness as possible. This was Arrupe's style, and it proved right more often than not. By the same token, he expected a sense of responsibility from a well-informed media. He was both angered and offended by unfounded specu-lation or an inordinate interest in the sensational or controversial. This was very evident at the time of the 32nd General Congregation, at which he presided. What seemed like a concerted effort to magnify conflicts between the Jesuits and the Vatican caused him no small measure of pain. And yet it never soured him or changed his basically positive out-look. For him the best way to deal with such a situation was through con-tinued efforts at supplying accurate and intelligible information. It was a Church in progress, moving through history, aided and abet-ted by the world around it, that fashioned Arrupe's thinking. If the mes-sage of the Church were to be heard, it would only be through outreach and dialogue. In the important position which he held, he lent the full weight of his office to obtain that goal. The Arrupe Years / 167 The Man of God It is hard to speak of a person's spirituality. In its intensely personal character it remains ultimately untouchable. And yet it becomes trans-parent in a person's life. In having a certain closeness to Arrupe and lis-tening to the views of others who were his peers, I noted certain quali-ties that mirrored a remarkable spirituality. He comes to mind im-mediately as a man of hope and faith-filled action. It is small wonder that he had such close personal ties with Cardinal Edward Pironio, the Argentinian head of the Vatican Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes. There were any number of reasons why relations between the Jesuits and the Vatican department responsible for religious life might well have been strained at that time. But Pironio's sense of hope and his very open and warm personality matched Arrupe's. They became close personal friends. Hindsight has led many people to comment favorably on Rome in the seventies. Religious life was being fashioned by an interesting trio. There were the challenges to religious given by Paul VI, coupled with the positive leadership bf Pironio and Arrupe. It was an exciting decade; for some of us, unforgettable. Arrupe's spirituality was marked by a deep sense of history and tra-dition. He was part of a Church and a religious institute whose patrimony truly humbled him. The picture of Arrupe as a man wed only to the pre-sent and largely indifferent to the values of the past is caricature at best. He knew that new wine required new skins and articulated that vision well. But he linked that vision with a real sense of the importance of con-tinuity. Some examples come quickly to mind. He had a profound es-teem for the insights of his institute's founder, St. Ignatius Loyola. While some argued that many of those insights were time-bound and no longer valid, Arrupe would be the last to be convinced. He said repeatedly that the longer he lived the more he appreciated the spiritual genius of his foun-der. In those years there was considerable discussion about the need for greater democracy in religious life. The question of the appropriateness of electing superiors, rather than appointing them as was the custom in many religious congregations, was very much to the fore. Arrupe re-mained throughout a strong proponent of the appointment method, fixed so strongly in Jesuit tradition. He was never persuaded that democracy produces the best leadership, and many of those who belonged to orders or congregations of a more democratic bent could recognize a certain va-lidity in his position. 161~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 His understanding of the vow of obedience was not rigidly tradi-tional; his thinking had been enhanced by contemporary theological in-sight into the Gospel sense of the vow. And yet he was deeply imbued with appreciation for the ascetical value inherent in accepting the deci-sions of those placed in authority. A case in point. When Arrupe com-municated to Robert Drinan, S.J., the decision that the latter would have to relinquish his seatin the U.S. House of Representatives, it was a very difficult moment in the life of both men. But it made a lasting impres-sion on Arrupe. The priority that Drinan gave to his Jesuit calling in ac-cepting that decision was, in Arrupe's mind, as important for the Soci-ety and the Church as anything Drinan might have otherwise accom-plished. It was an example to which he would repeatedly return. In retrospect, however, one would have to say that it was the man's openness that remains so vivid to the present day. He was never threat-ened by new ideas, even if he found them ultimately unacceptable. He could see the value in some elements of a Marxist social analysis, even though he was against its use. He could espouse~the Jesuits' new social ministries and still be a strong believer in the traditional ministry of edu-cation. He was a champion of legitimate pluralism, almost by instinct. While mindful of the importance of magisterial teaching, he wanted theo-logians to have as much freedom as possible in the pursuit of their task. It was his deep-rooted faith that lent him serenity in facing [he contem-porary scene. Not intimidated by the risk of possible failure, he realized that all was ultimately in God's hands. And then there were the trials, known best by those who worked with him closely. A number of those he shared with me. In his later years, the media was asking hard questions. Was Arrupe going to resign? Was he under pressure from the Vatican to do so? Was a dissatisfied segment of the Jesuits pressing for his resignation? Was his relationship with Paul VI as strained as rumored? Were there conflicts with John Paul II? Arrupe was always candid. He respected the media and realized that there was much to be gained through cooperation. But he was disturbed by attempts to exacerbate situations and exaggerate differences. There were certainly very difficult issues which he faced in the latter years of his term of office. He was fully aware that there was a conservative seg-ment of the Society which opposed him. In addition, during the thirty-second General Congregation, his was the task of interpreting the mind of that worldwide assembly to the pope, and vice versa. It was a sensi-tive and often painful task. That he did it so well is a tribute to his con-ciliatory gifts. But he was beset by rumors, which, like a room full of The Arrupe Years / 169 gnats, gave him no peace. That there were differences between the gen-eral congregation and the pope in certain areas, he never denied. Yet his personal relationship with Paul VI was never the question. He was sym-pathetic to the concerns of the pope and realized the weight of his cross. Moreover, he hailed the pope's social teaching as a landmark in the Church's life. But the perception of a wall of conflict between the "black" and "white" pope persisted, even though it was inaccurate. Arrupe was the first to admit that the sentiment among the Jesuits for the direction .taken after the thirty-second Congregation was not unani-mous. He was acutely aware of a vocal conservative opposition. But he saw the implementation of the general congregation's decisions as an obe-dience and there was no turning back. He always stressed the strong sup-port that came from so many quarters, the enthusiasm which the con-gregation's decisions had generated, especially among the young, and the fact that the Holy See had given its approval. But the fact is that the positive is just not that newsworthy, and so he would be inevitably ques-tioned about the "dark side" of any given situation. This always caused a certain measure of dismay, but it was followed by a remarkable resil-ience. In the wake of any setback, there was always his eventual phone call with a new idea or project. Early in the summer of 1981, Arrupe, his trusted vicar and confi-dant Vincent O'Keefe, and I talked at length about a possible article on the burning question of Arrupe's resignation. There was extensive specu-lation in the press, and we were discussing the best way to deal with it. However, it was more than a public question; it was a matter internal to the Jesuits at a time in which any public communication would have been inappropriate. Arrupe looked upon his eventual resignation in a very posi-tive light, as setting an important precedent for the future of the Soci-ety. His thinking was centered on the good of the religious institute to which his own interests were completely subservient. We decided to do nothing at that time. But that evening he assured me that once he was no longer in office and had the freedom to speak more openly, he would do an extensive interview with me and answer the questions that I felt should be addressed. That proved to be our last conversation. Upon his return from a trip to the Philippines some weeks later, he suffered the stroke from which he never recovered. The rest is history. I subsequently left Rome upon completion of my term of office. My occasional return visits were always marked by a brief visit with the man who had affected my life so deeply. Few words were exchanged. It was 170 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 usually a prayer and a blessing; he would then kiss my hand before I left. His sufferings proved to be one of the most powerful messages of his life. As one of his confreres put it: "He led us in life and has offered himself for us in death." His immolation was total. It has been an un-usual life. To have been touched by it is a rare gift. Father Pedro Arrupe was superior general of the Jesuits, 1965-198J~. He died on Tuesday, February 5, 1991, in Rome. Beyond the Liberal Model: Quo Vadis? Elizabeth McDonough, O.P. Sister Elizabeth McDonough, O.P., J.C.D,, Canonical Counsel Editor of REVIEW FOR RELIGtOUS and author of Religious in the 1983 Code, writes and consults extensively about consecrated life. She is a canonical consultant and tribunal judge for the Arch-diocese of Washington, where she may be contacted at P.O. Box 29260; Washing-ton, D.C. 20017. For background information on this article, see endnote i. ]t is no secret that active religious life for women in America has experi-enced progressive decline in the quarter century since Vatican II. Evi-dence of the decline is clear and overwhelming, and its effects are felt and observed in the entire Church. When one looks for causes, one real-izes that distinguishing them from the effects is both complicated and deli-cate. Nevertheless, from my experience as a woman religious during the last quarter century and as a canonical consultant for numerous women's communities over the last decade, I have come to the conclusion that many religious have not recognized or have not acknowledged some clear causes and effects of the current decline for what they really are. Effects of progressive decline are there to be seen in the current po-larization within and among women's communities along conservative and liberal ideological lines. The decline is also evident in most com-munities in their relative inability to attract or to keep vocations, as well as in their related inability to maintain significant institutional commit-ments. It is manifest in the near invisibility of women religious in con-temporary apostolic works, as well as in the frequent reluctance of clergy and laity alike to work with women religious in various apostolates. Pro-gressive decline is experienced by religious themselves as the uninten-tionally created and uncomfortably experienced loss of identity follow- 171 Review for Religious, March-April 1991 ing early and rapid postconciliar abandonment of traditional symbols and services, customs and norms. And, to those who are not religious, its ef-fects are all-too-obvious in the polarized, apparently directionless, plu-ralistic potpourri of ministries and attire, lifestyles and mindsets among women religious today. The progressive decline stems in part from the pervasive sociology of liberal individualism in America and in part from the cultural preva-lence of a psychology of selfism. But causes of the decline are also evi-dent in the predominantly social-justice agenda that has been adopted by most women's institutes, as well as in the revisionist versions of vowed life and in the generally antiauthority and often feminist stances currently espoused by not a few active women religious. Again, a major cause of decline can be traced to the reality that, in seeking their roots after the council, many women's institutes dating their foundations to frontier America discovered--but probably did not admit--that they actually had no genuine, unique charism to renew and adapt. The decline can also be traced to the systematic and progressive de-construction or deliberate abandonment of fundamental juridic structures and roles during the postconciliar constitutional revision processes. In most women's institutes, general chapters have now abandoned legisla-tion in favor of direction-setting, with their goals programmed by pre-chapter steering committees and subsequently adopted through member-ship participation in consensus formation that is shaped by outside facil-itators. In most women's institutes, lower-level superiors are now either nonexistent or nonfunctional, while major superiors have abandoned gov-ernment in favor of business management and have surrounded them-selves with middle-level, appointed, administrative personnel whose num-bers have steadily increased over the years in bureaucratic disproportion to the continuing decrease in membership. Functionally, the net effect of juridic deconstruction has been the crea-tion of business-management-style bureaucracies which filter informa-tion upward and decisions downward, from and to members of women's institutes, primarily by means of bulletins, newsletters, special-interest mailings, and occasional phone calls or visits. As a result individual re-ligious deal almost exclusively with middle-level personnel over a long period of time and even in personal and sensitive matters. Many would prefer to describe this reality quite differently by saying that communi-cation (not mere information) is facilitated inward and outward (not up and down) between the empowered membership and the visionary lead-ership in the concentric circles of participative government that have re- Beyond the Liberal Model / 173 placed the hierarchic pyramid of authority. Whatever the terminology, the following experiences are common: (1) Individual members or groups of members can seldom effect change in policies and agendas that are programmed and prepackaged at upper (or inner) levels of the struc-ture; (2) religious are both structurally and functionally more removed from their elected, responsible superiors than previously; and (3) the right of individual religious to personal privacy is, at times, not ade-quately protected. Most women religious would admit that, in the quarter century since Vatican II, the rather short-lived euphoria of the "nun in the world" has been replaced by a long-suffering, quiet frustration at the lurking possi-bility of permanent extinction. While increased relevancy and effective-ness were focal points for altering lifestyles and practices during renewal, many wonder now if women religious in America have ever been more irrelevant and less effective. To be frank, most clergy and laity and male religious have been thinking for quite some time that religious life for women in America is "going nowhere fast," even if few have verbal-ized this publicly. More recently, at least some--if not many--women religious have cautiously begun to acknowledge the same apparent real-ity to themselves and others. A haunting, unresolved question about the entire experience of re-newal is: How did all this ever happen to us? In seeking answers, con-servatives seem tempted to respond: "Surely an enemy has done it!" In kind, liberals seem inclined to say: "I am making all things new!" From the perspective of experience, my response to the question looks to what might be a deeper problem, namely: "All this did not just happen, We did it to ourselves." Indeed, I would suggest that, on the part of women religious, major factors contributing to the current decline have been a certain lack of knowledge of both theology and history, as well as a cer-tain lack of maturity in responding to newly discovered postconciliar re-alities. And, from current experience, I would suggest that an apparent lack of humility in admitting previous mistakes and an apparent lack of honesty regarding present reality or future prospects are probably has-tening the permanent demise of many active institutes of women reli-gious in this country. Lack of Vocations An obvious sign of the progressive decline of women's institutes is the staggering decrease in their membership since Vatican II. In 1965 there were slightly more than 180,000 members in active communities in America, but by 1990 that number had fallen to slightly more than 174 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 100,000-~a decrease of nearly 45%. Simultaneously, since few women have entered while many have been departing at a slow but steady pace, the median age in women's institutes has risen rapidly and is now com-monly sixty-five or higher. Marie Augusta Neal, in her recent book From Nuns to Sisters, sug-gests that the "radical risks" involved in the Church's new mission to the poor may be the prime factor limiting the response of women to a call to religious life. She thus inadvertently trivializes that call--which, on practical and theoretical as well as human and theological levels, has its appeal within risk or without any particular concern about risk. Neal does not seem to recognize that there is---~r ought to be--a substantive difference between a vocation and a career. And, if experience tells us anything in the matter, it tells us that--with rare exception--the single, most compelling human reason why anyone responds positively to a re-ligious vocation is her (or his) direct, personal awareness of religious who are happy together doing something that they perceive as worth-while and who are clearly motivated by and committed to the love of Je-sus Christ. Currently, many not-yet-retired women religious have become increas-ingly absent or invisible in apostolic activities of the local Church. In other words, for the most part they simply are no longer seen. Moreover, many no longer live in community, even when they live in geographic proximity, sometimes even when they exercise the same ministry or work in the same place. In other words, they are no longer seen together except possibly at work. Again, perhaps too few women religious are to-day perceived as being genuinely happy, and perhaps even fewer as be-ing happy together. Further, the current wide diversification of minis-tries seems sometimes to have led to trivial apostolates ~hile simultane-ously rendering institutional apostolic, witness unsustainable. And, though many may reject the suggestion, perhaps love of Jesus Christ is simply not perceived as the underlying or determining factor in the life of many women religious in America. In short, perhaps because the posi-tive image that women religious tend to have of themselves bears little resemblance to the not-so-positive image that others have of them, it may be unrealistic--if not grandiose--to expect vocations to increase in the near or distant future. Pluralism and Polarization An initial cause and increasing consequence of decline in religious life for women is the currently a~knowledged division into conservative and liberal categories both within and among most congregations. Beyond the Liberal Model / 175 In general, conservative-model institutes tend to favor external authorities, institutional endeavors, traditional theologies, and hierarchi-cal structures; liberal-model institutes generally favor inner freedom, in-dividual endeavors, postconciliar theologies, and collaborative struc-tures. Liberal institutes are inclined to accuse conservative ones of at-tracting emotionally immature candidates, while conservative institutes are inclined to accuse liberals of having nothing that attracts. Conservative religious are often summarily categorized as oppressed, unrenewed, and psychologically dependent; liberal religious are just as often summarily categorized as progressive, feminist, and pseudosophis-ticated. Conservatives seem to read history and Scripture in so selective and so polemical a fashion as to render them an inadequate basis for or-dinary discourse. Conversely, liberals seem to read history and Scripture in so simplistic and so revisionist a fashion as to render them insignifi-cant. From my experience, liberals and conservatives alike seem to have worked very diligently at destroying whatever common symbols they had, so that now they possess no common language for constructive com-munication. Each side seems to have been mutually successful in trans-forming both the concept of God and the experience of worship into sources of division. And neither side seems able to lay untainted claim to any "moral high ground," any bridgehead that addresses the ever wid-ening chasm between them. Currently the majority of women's institutes in America express or espouse a liberal model of religious life. However, it is becoming more and more evident that many religious themselves do not ascribe to the tenets or direction of that model, while many religious also have at least some (and sometimes serious) concerns about its functioning and future. As conservatives attempt to build a future by returning to the past and liberals attempt to build a future by rejecting the past, the categories are becoming increasingly distant and distinct. Most religious realize that any previous potential "middle ground" is fast disappearing, thus leav-ing little hope for future cooperation or reconciliation in or among insti-tutes. Mary Jo Leddy in her recent book, Reweaving Religious Life, ac-knowledges that the current liberal model of religious life is not adequate for facilitating and sustaining genuine adaptation and renewal, even though she has previously been both a proponent and facilitator of that model. Leddy suggests that the liberal model of religious life has become "unraveled" and that it should be replaced by a choice for "creative 176 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 disintegration" in favor of even more radical pluralism. She suggests, further, that liberal-model institutes might take as an example of her "reweaving" thesis Teresa of Avila's reform of Carmelite monastic life in the sixteenth century. But Leddy seems not to recognize that her sug-gestion for the future is humanly problematic and that her analogy from the past is historically inaccurate. As regards "creative disintegration" for a more radical pluralism, the current experience of most American women religious is that the de-gree of pluralism already present in their institutes is straining the limits of not just the weave but also the inner fiber of religious life itself, indi-vidually and collectively. In short, Leddy seems unaware that going be-yond present degrees of pluralism in ministries and lifestyles will most likely be more destructive than creative, both in the beginning and in the end. Regarding Teresian reform of Carmelite life, I.eddy does not recog-nize that Teresa's version of "reweaving" was actually a return to ba-sic structures and religious observance from an "unraveling" that oc-curred precisely because fundamental elements of the original charism had been abandoned or abused. In short, she seems oblivious to this his-torical fact: that Teresa accomplished the genuine renewal of Carmelite religious life not through programmed disintegration but rather through a concerted effort by all to embrace its fundamental structures and heri-tage in order to live them and preserve them in a pristine manner. Deconstruction of Structures and Elimination of Distinctions The current deconstructed functioning of general chapters as parti-cipative consensus-formation assemblies in most women's institutes has engendered both a feeling of members' being "empowered" for gov-ernance and a strong sense of "ownership" of chapter decisions. On the other hand, the new style of general chapters also tends to lessen critical assessment of options and to avoid substantive decisions that distinguish delegates from participants. Simultaneously, such chapters commonly en-act global, carefully crafted, blandly diluted statements whose content can hardly be opposed in theory and can scarcely be assessed in implemen-tation. Currently some women's institutes have so little sense of their own identity and of the role of chapters that they involve nonmembers extensively in chapter proceedings, and some have even suggested that nonmembers may be elected to governance roles. The distinction between major superiors and councils, as well as dif-ferentiation of their roles, has also undergone postconciliar deconstruc-tion. With the advent of collaborative decision-making, major superiors Beyond the Liberal Model / 177 and councils are commonly referred to as leadership teams: their mem-bers share equally the governance/management of the religious institute and are functionally distinguished, if at all, only at the infrequent mo-ments of final decision.,required by law. In relation to actual decision-making, in most institutes there has been a concomitant radical limita-tion or complete elimination of instances in which a supreme moderator or major superior can act without the consent of the council. Most of these alterations seem related to questioning the possession of personal authority by superiors, combined with an all too real (and often all too painful) remembrance of abuse of authority by superiors in the past. The deconstruction of juridic structures and the blurring of gov-ernmental functions apparently meet a need to limit the authority of su-periors through "leadership" language and apparently also reinforce the new participative consensus-niodel chapters in a stance of visibly and ver-bally rejecting whatever has been perceived as hierarchic or patriarchal. Overall, however, the new bureaucratic, business-management model of governance operated by middle-level appointees and committees seems to have produced no overwhelmingly positive verifiable results other than the fact that many members feel very good about it. In other words, it does appear that most people like the feeling of having a part in run-ning the business even if business is not getting any better. Obedience and Mission Closely related to juridic deconstruction and elimination of distinc-tions are postconciliar views espousing dialogical obedience and justice-oriented missions. The seed for a dialogical understanding of obedience was firmly planted by the affirmations of Perfectae Caritatis 14 that superiors should foster an active and responsible obedience in addition to listen-ing to and promoting cooperation among the members of the institute. But after twenty-five years that seed has produced, in many religious in-stitutes of women, a strong undergrowth of resistance to any exercise of personal authority by any superiors. As a result, some prevalent revision-ist versions of vowed obedience consider it to be so personal and dialo-gical that it apparently can never involve a decision made by someone else which must be obeyed. In this framework, attributing final decision-making power to a superior is simply rejected as representing an archaic, unjust sacralization of hierarchic notions about authority, commitment, and obligations, all of which are now considered as negotiable. Action on behalf of justice and participation in the transformation of the world were affirmed by the 1971 Synod of Bishops as "constitutive 171~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 dimension[s] of preaching the Gospel" and "of the Church's mission for redemption of the human race and its liberation from every oppres-sive situation." And these affirmations quickly became a mandate for religious to work with new or renewed vigor in justice-and-peace endeav-ors throughout the world. However, many religious who recognize action on behalf of justice as a constitutive element of the Gospel appear to have fallen into the er-ror of thinking that action on behalf of justice is also exhaustive of it. There is ample indication that some religious erroneously assess the Church's mission as only or primarily one of unbridled activity in the marketplaces of contemporary society. They frequently quote as a source the document Religious and Human Promotion, but one seldom hears any mention of the document on The Contemplative Dimension of Re-ligious Life. In addition, a selective reading of conciliar texts and post-conciliar documents seems to have created for some religious an urgent mandate for political action and systemic change to the exclusion or ne-glect of any other manner of transforming the world or of preaching the Gospel. In connection with contemporary views of authority and obedi-ence, the mandate for systemic change of oppressive structures seems to be directed increasingly to the internal structures of the Church and of one's own religious institute rather than to the wider world. The social-justice orientation in the revised constitutions of most in-stitutes is primarily the result of an ongoing series of sociological sur-veys initiated in 1965 by the Leadership Conference of Women Relig-ious to provide an information base for resources on renewal. The sur-veys were formulated, distributed, interpreted, and implemented by Marie Augusta Neal, who has written numerous articles and books in the last two decades in order to explain, expound, expand, and defend her work. In her writings Neal admits that the entire purpose of the research surveys had a social-justice orientation. She also acknowledges that con-troversy over the surveys contributed directly to splintering of the (then) Conference of Major Superiors of Women in the early 1970s. And she herself states that the pre- and post-Vatic~in II belief scale contained in the "Sisters' Survey" involving 139,000 women religious in the mid- 1960s "became the most controversial and most discriminating variable, which accounted for the pace and direction of changes in structures of the religious congregations involved in the study."2 Yet Neal has con-sistently defended the soundness of her survey instrument as well as the accuracy of her interpretations, and has increasingly extended her find- Beyond the Liberal Model / 17'9 ings beyond the realm of sociology. Critics of Neal's work point to survey questions formulated in quali-tative language, to information reported in questionable categories, and to Neal's apparently subjective interpretations expressed in her follow-up. memos as being especially problematic. The surveys engendered even more controversy as findings originally proposed as an information base on resources for renewal began to function instead as LCWR's single, central source for pursuing social-justice agendas, for questioning eccle-siastical authority, and for picking up the the pace of renewal. Indeed, the quarter-century survey project that coincided with the postconciliar constitutional revision in women's institutes may arguably be the single most significant factor that can account for the systematic and progres-sive deconstruction evident among so many institutes of women religious today. Abandonment of Common Symbols and Practices Regardless of whether one recognizes or acknowledges an underly-ing internal juridic deconstruction in religious institutes of women, the visible, gradual, and progressive alteration of attire for women religious since Vatican II cannot be denied. The transition in habits has been a pain-ful and emotionally charged issue and is a prime example of the whole-sale abandonment of symbols and symbol systems by women religious since the council. No one is at liberty to argue about whether or not the external identity symbol of the habit has been fundamentally abandoned by numerous women religious, and most agree that whatever has hap-pened is irreversible. Moreover, the "habit issue" represents a nexus of sociological, psychological, behavioral, historical, and theological fac-tors that relate directly to the progressive decline of religious life in Amer-ica. Transformation in the attire of women religious from outdated and unhealthy medieval costumes, to makeshift modified habits, to bought and borrowed secular clothes, to contemporary business suits with com-munity logos, to the stylish garb of modern professionals is reflected in and among women's institutes today. The visible choice of attire, though not completely indicative ofa conservative or liberal model as such, is a somewhat reliable sign of the institute's (and person's) location and di-rection on the spectrum of post-Vatican II transition. The attire worn by the major superior and council of an institute tends to indicate both whether attire choices are possible within the institute and what the most progressive of possible choices might be. These indications, along with when the attire choices became operative, rather accurately reflect 1~10 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 whether the institute operates primarily from a liberal or conservative model (or somewhere in between) and tend to show a transition towards the liberal model. Be that as it may, my reason for discussing the choice of attire is that it is never the only issue being addressed. The attire issue also places in sharp relief a functional distinction between institutes of men and of women. That is, for members of nonmonastic institutes of men, the habit--if they had one--was traditionally a significant form of clothing occasionally donned for community and liturgical exercises or for pro-fessional and pastoral services. In .contrast, for all institutes of women-- with rare exception--the habit was traditionally their primary identifi-cation symbol and was also often the only clothes they had to wear. Ad-ditionally, the habit issue highlights a significant difference in response to legal norms on the part of men and of women, namely: The 1917 code required that habits be worn by all members of all institutes at all times, both inside and outside the religious house; women consistently did what the law said, while men rather consistently did not. Thus, ~the almost vis-ceral reaction (of some) to the matter of the habit should not be surpris-ing. More fundamentally, however, numerous other unifying and mean-ingful symbols and practices disappeared along with the habit in religious institutes of women after Vatican II. Common meals and lodging, com-mon prayers and songs, common recreation and study, as well as com-mon moments of joy and suffering, were generally minimized, mildly disdained, or summarily abandoned in a veritable onslaught of Ameri-can, postconciliar, egalitarian, pluralistic individualism and activism. Some would suggest that in this process women religious have become less oppressed, more mature and free for service. Many others would sug-gest, in contrast, that the primary result of abandoning symbol systems and common practices has been a pervasive and overwhelming experi-ence of inner emptiness and outer loneliness made more acute by recog-nition that there simply is no longer any "common glue" to hold insti-tutes of women religious together at simple, fundamental, indispensable levels of human relationship. Transformations in Community Life and Ministry Additional consequences Of postconciliar deconstruction in women's institutes concern: (1) how members live together and relate to one an-other, or--in other words--the change in what was formerly referred to as common life or community; and (2) how members happen to arrive in a particular place doing a particular job, or--in other words--the Beyond the Liberal Model / 1~11 change in what was formerly referred to as receiving an assignment or being missioned. Without detailing here the canonical requirements for common life and its broad and strict interpretation, it was obviously common prac-tice in.the past for religious to live with other members of their commu-nity in the same residence with at least relatively equal access to food, clothing, shelter, and furnishings. Exceptions to common life were al-ways possible and sometimes actual but generally remained just that: ex-ceptions. Since the council, however, more religious now live "outside a house" of the institute for extended periods of time and for a variety of reasons, including apostolate, health, and study. Moreover, it is cur-rently common for a woman religious to live outside a house of her in-stitute either (1) because she cannot find a house in which she is collec-tively "accepted" by sisters already in the house according to their es-tablished expectations of community, or (2) because the sister herself can-not find a house in which she feels she can live comfortably and con-structively according to her already established expectations. Since Vatican II, members of religious institutes have been forced to deal regularly with high degrees of constant uncertainty, and simulta-neously they have had great demands for intense interpersonal relating placed on them. Religious institutes and individual women religious have devoted varying amounts of time, energy, and resources to bemoaning or extolling postconciliar relational developments and demands. And at present many institutes and their members are so caught up in personal relational issues and self-help programs as to convey the impression that, if only every sister would study her Myers-Briggs profile and identify the consequences of her Enneagram number and join the appropriate recov-ery or codependency program, then community life would irreversibly begin to get out of the present morass of personal malaise and interper-sonal dysfunctionality. Meanwhile, however, most members of liberal-model institutes no longer live in community, but merely relate to it functionally. It is usu-ally easier for major superiors to allow members to live outside a house of the institute than to deal constructively with problems in houses of the institute. Those members who continue to live in community seem, in most institutes, to have circumstantially or preferentially sorted them-selves into relatively permanent subgroups by age differentiation or work relations or ideological orientations or dyad/triad dependencies. And quite a few women religious depend regularly--and sometimes exten-sively--- on professional colleagues or family members for ongoing per- 1~12 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 sonal support and meaningful human interaction rather than on their re-ligious community. Related to changes in community living is the alteration since Vati-can II of how most women religious arrive in a particular place doing a particular job. A process of "open placement" now predominates, which usually means that the religious works with the institute's person-nel director or board in following previously established community cri-teria for seeking apostolic involvement or other gainful employment. Fre-quently in this system contracts are negotiated between the sister and the employer and are then submitted to the personnel director or board for review and informal approval. Eventually, finalized arrangements are rati-fied by the competent major superior, and the sister is missioned or as-signed to her new apostolate or job with, if possible, some form of rit-ual solemnization of the process. Some provision for housing is neces-sarily connected to the missioning, but living in community is not usu-ally a priority among the criteria for seeking employment, and so excep-tions to common life proliferate. The Sociology of Liberal Individualism Recently Robert Bellah and several other sociologists published a re-vealing analysis of the phenomenon and failure of liberal individualism in America, entitled Habits of the Heart. Among other things, this analy-sis suggests that American culture reflects a radically liberal society of psychologically sophisticated but morally impoverished individuals who demonstrate a "narcissism of similarity" by associating in "lifestyle enclaves." These enclaves are composed of the like-minded who share comparable desires for leisure, recreation, and consumer goods and who, by their self-chosen values, have been freed from traditional ethnic and religious boundaries while simultaneously justifying their own prefer-ences. Further, Bellah and his colleagues suggest that, in American so-ciety, people's felt need for personal fulfillment---ever elusive--has re-sulted in their substituting short-term "therapeutic relationships" be-tween "self-actualized" individuals for the genuine, creative relation-ship of love. This, in turn, has resulted in replacing obligation and com-mitment with a new "virtue": open and honest communication in which everything at all times is considered negotiable except the individual's self-chosen objectified values. The study suggests, further, that American society lacks the identity which should have or could have emerged from the ordered freedom of practical rituals and moral structures which it has abandoned. Moreover, it seems unable to return to the "constitutive narrative" of its tradition, Beyond the Liberal Model because that would be perceived as opting for once-jettisoned oppressive structures. Consequently, the lonely, self-actualized, rugged individuals of the late, great American Empire--still not comprehending what it is that might assuage their longings--have taken collective refuge in a cor-porate bureaucracy of professional managers, therapists, and other ex-perts whose task it is to foster administrative centralization, to facilitate reciprocal tolerance, and to "empower" all citizens for institutional par-ticipation and creative innovation. The problem is, however, according to Bellah and his colleagues: It simply has not worked, and the seriously ill "social ecology" of American culture is very much in danger of per-manent demise. There are striking similarities between this sociological analysis of American culture and the current liberal model of active religious life for women. Tradition has been abandoned, and the past is perceived as op-pressive. Institutes have become business corporations, and governance has become collaborative administration. Structures have become parti-cipative, and superiors are now primarily managers. Formation person-nel and spiritual directors now function primarily as therapists. Facilita-tors are experts for achieving consensus formation, as well as catalysts for creative innovation. All members are becoming empowered for de-cision- making, although not many members claim responsibility for any particular decision. Obedience is increasingly negotiable, and personal fulfillment dominates most choices. Communities have become lifestyle enclaves composed of occasionally present, like-minded individuals. Eve-ryone is now somehow accountable, but few (if any) religious are called to accountability by anyone for anything. Communication is the cardi-nal virtue, and everyone is progressing towards greater self-actualization. The problem is, of course: It all simply does not work. American women religious today still seem not to have discovered what it is that might as-suage their longings, and the seriously ill social ecology of their lives is very much in danger of p~rmanent demise. The Psychology of Selfism Directly related to the sociological phenomena that seem to parallel the deconstruction of religious life is the psychological phenomenon that contemporary American culture, according to Bellah, is basically impov-erished by an insatiable preoccupation with self. In most cultures reli-gion is considered a primary source for character formation and for the development of social mores. However, in the psychology of selfism which seems to permeate American culture, the primary reality is the self that one's own unique choices have created. The isolated, self-created 1 ~14 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 individual then commits himself or herself to self-defined and self-defining decisions. In this ambiance, personality development and be-havior modification replace the character formation and the social mo-res that are ordinarily provided by traditional religion, because preex-isting principles for character or mores are perceived as either non-existent or unimportant. For selfism in America, the psychological myth of the intrinsically good Utopian self parallels and supports the social and political myths of the intrinsically perfect Utopian state, while the psychological ten-dency to self-indulgence both rationalizes and celebrates the consumer society. When the interior fiber for duty, patience, suffering, and self-sacrifice is absent or wanting in the individual, the psychology of selfism conveniently shifts a locus of responsibility for the vacuum or the defi-ciency to the failures and foibles of parents, siblings, associates, and cir-cumstances. Selfism also legitimizes and perpetuates the late-adolescent attitudes of routine rebellion, rejection of authority, and preoccupation with sex. In short, it appears to be a ready-made, perfect internal sup-port for the sociology of American liberal individualism. Obviously, in relation to religious life, the once-hidden issues of psy-chological development and emotional maturity have been a rather pub-lic part of the transition in institutes of women (and of men) since Vati-can II. It may be that women religious really were not emotionally well-prepared for so many drastic, rapid-fire changes in their lives and, fur-ther, that they have not handled them all that well in the long run. To be sure, the recent deluge of books, articles, programs, and apparent pana-ceas produced by religious and for religious on topics of maturity related to religious is overwhelming. Patently, the popularity of this genre among women religious is not indicative of merely occasional light read-ing for the already self-actualized and emotionally mature. Thus, it seems reasonable to suggest that American women religious might be suf-fering not only from the effects of American liberal individualism but also from some lack of maturity as a consequence of its underlying psy-chology of selfism. Absence of Charism Genuine charisms for consecrated lifeforms are windows on the Gos-pel that provide a vision So clear that founders and foundresses --and then their companions--seem compelled to "do likewise" and follow Jesus. Or, again, charisms might be described as good seeds growing in fertile ground in a particular time and place and having the capacity to Beyond the Liberal Model multiply and bear fruit and also to be transplanted successfully to other ages and other cultures. True charisms of religious life are founded on sound but supple structures, are surrounded by long-standing and forma-tive customs, are nourished by deep-rooted and healthy spirituality, are manifest in valuable and long-term ecclesial service, and are--most es-pecially-~ expressions of a meaningful and compelling way of following Jesus. Charisms are not constituted merely by being a particular-apos-tolic expression of a particular corporal or spiritual work of mercy, how-ever necessary and valuable such endeavors may be; nor can charisms be humanly built by "refounding" or personally manufactured by "reweaving." They are gifts received, embraced, and lived--with re-ceptive and responsive elements indispensable to their basic rea~].ty---or they are not true charisms at all. Unfortunately, when active institutes of women religious went in search of their roots in the mandated renewal subsequent to Vatican II, most were confronted with the absence of a genuine, unique charism. And most women's institutes apparently either could not or would not recognize that absence for what it really meant, namely: They actually had no sound structures, no formative customs, no deep-rooted spiritu-ality, no long-term ecclesial service, no meaningful and compelling way of life they could call their own. In short, they had no genuine spiritual patrimony or religious heritage to which they could return and from which they could move into the future. The absence of a genuine, unique charism in most women's:institutes explains in part why intercommunity living and common novitiates have been so readily initiated and so successful. One cannot imagine, for ex-ample, Jesuit men and Dominican men opting for total intercommunity living situations and sharing totally common novitiates as if there were no deep and visible, distinctly different elements in their charisms. Yet many women religious whose institutes claim unique charisms share com-munity living and novitiates on a regular basis and consider it a wonder-ful sign of progress in collaboration. Lack of charism in many :women's institutes also explains in part why they have been so readily eclectic in the process of spiritual renewal and why most supposedly pristine house-of- prayer movements have been so short-lived and superficial .3 Further, lack of charism explains in part why it has been so difficult for these in-stitutes to adapt and renew successfully in the postconciliar era. Indeed, the provinces of some men's institutes are actually more distinct in ex-pressions of their charism than are many independent institutes of women who attempted after the council to rewrite constitutions and fashion mis- 116 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 sion statements unique to them on the basis of their supposedly unique charisms. Though the fault for lack of charism was not theirs, the consequences for these institutes have been nearly fatal. Most--but not all--active in-stitutes of women religious founded in, or transferred to, this country in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries were either New World adapta-tions of ancient and medieval monastic communities, such as the Bene-dictines and the Dominicans, or groups of dedicated pioneer women re-sponding generously to the practical needs of an immigrant Church in frontier America. Some, such as the Ursulines and the Daughters of Char-ity, had never been allowed to embrace or live the authentic, original ex-pression of their charism, which is now recognized as the forerunner to the consecrated lifeform of secular institutes. All active women's insti-tutes in frontier America were forced by circumstance or mandate to adopt a semimonastic, conventual style of religious life whether or not this was appropriate to their current function or past experience. Struc-tures, as well as theology and spirituality and apostolate and customs, are integral to the authentic expression of a genuine, unique charism. Thus it is not surprising that progressive deconstruction in women's in-stitutes has been so rapid and so complete for those institutes which, when seeking their roots, found only a monastic heritage adapted to the structures of conventual religious life or found no heritage that ever re-ally fit into the structures of conventual religious life in the first place. Possibilities for the Future Suggestions have been made that, in order to survive, women reli-gious should respond more fully to the risks of opting for the poor, or expand their pluralistic polarization even further, or revitalize for the sake of mission, or manage systemic change more constructively, or com-bine judiciously with other institutes of similar heritage. But no degree of social-justice activity, no amount of pluralism, no programmed revitalization, no constructively managed change, and no combined mem-bership will supply for the absence of a charism, which simply cannot be summarily manufactured and without which no institute has any fu-ture. It is possible, however, that active institutes of women religious in America can consciously decide about their future in honest relationship to their past. Some may feel they have actually been successfully grafted into an ancient or medieval charism expressed in conventual form and may wish to continue that expression of religious life. Some may find Beyond the Liberal Model it more realistic to return to what was originally intended by the founder/ foundress even if that choice would place them today in a different ju-ridic category of consecrated lifeform, such as secular institutes. Others may find it more realistic for members to form totally different commu-nities in accord with the prevalent spectrum of conservative and tradi-tional ideologies among their membership. Still others may decide quite honestly that their time of existence and service in and through the Church is actually past and that their greatest present witness might be to go out of existence with dignity and grace. From my experience, those in positions of authority in many women's institutes either do not recognize or simply will not admit the above possibilities, just as they either do not recognize or will not admit that the present course of supposed renewal is toward eventual demise. And, from my experience, the members of most women's institutes either are unaware of what is actually happening or, being aware, sim-ply wish to stay the course because it appears or feels advantageous to them at the moment. In either case, the result is that members tend to choose for leadership only those persons who will perpetuate the status quo, which in turn continues the present direction of programmed decon-struction. Unfortunately, most women's institutes seem deaf to suggestions that current, supposedly great refounding trends are futile, not only because they are based primarily on product-oriented business-management mod-els, but also because there is--in most cases--actually nothing to re-found. Though most seem enthralled by distant visions of supposedly "new forms" of religious life, they seem not to see before their eyes the current practical drift of religious life in America to the practices and lifestyle of the already well-established category of secular institutes. Io fact, opting for secular-institute status might be a more honest way for some institutes to become what they were originally and are meant to be than is their present path of deconstruction under the ~uise of creating "new forms" of religious life. Finally, many women's institutes seem heartened by prospects of increased membership through mergers and un-ions as a recipe for survival. Although combining institutes may be a ju-dicious course of action in view of practical needs, those who look to this for survival should reread carefully the story of Gideon: There is no safety in numbers if you are not doing God's will in God's way; and if you are, numbers really do not matter very much at all. Although, from my experience, most active institutes of women re-ligious in America simply do not have the slightest idea where they are 1111~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 going or why, there are many members of many institutes who do want to go somewhere with meaning. While not wishing to return to the past, they also do not wish to abandon it, and they still hope for a future of renewed religious life somehow rooted in it. Unfortunately, current modes of participative consensus-model governance not only edit out such voices but also make it nearly impossible to know about or be in constructive contact with those who have similar desires. Perhaps, then, some hope for the future also can be found in more grassroots, intra- and inter-congregational communication by those who are both weary and wary of the present programmed deconstruction they experience. All that is really necessary for continuation in the present path of increased po-larization and progressive decline to the point of extinction is that enough women religious continue to say or do nothing about it. NOTES i The substantive content of this article is taken from a book chapter of the same ti-tle and is used with permission of the editors. See lus Sequitur Vitam: To Pier Huiz-ing in Recognition of a Life Dedicated to a Living Law in the Church, edited by James Provost and Knut Wall and scheduled for publicatiofl by Peeters of Leuven i.n February 1991. The book chapter is much longer, has a definitely canonical ori-entation, and contains numerous, lengthy, substantive footnotes. 2 See Marie Augusta Neal, From Nuns to Sisters: An Expanding Vocation (Mystic, Conn.:Twenty-Third'Publications, 1990), for her positions in general and pp. 126- 127, n. 9, for this quotation. More detailed comments on the survey are contained in the book chapter cited above, especially at footnotes 12 and 29-34. 3 See J.M.R. Tillard, "Vingt ans de grace?" in Vie Consacr~e 58 (1986): 323- 340. The S.P.E.A.K. Model: An Approach to Continuing Formation Mary Mortz, D.M.J. Sister Mary Mortz, D.M.J., serves as a provincial councilor for her province of the Daughters of Mary and Joseph. With her degree in rehabilitation and religious stud-ies, she teaches mentally and emotionally disturbed children. Her address is 419 East Lancaster Boulevard; Lancaster, California 93535. Continuing formation means that the work of God has begun, and we con-tinue to cooperate with his work in and through us. Many of our consti-tutions state that each of us as a perpetually professed religious is respon-sible for our own continuing formation, though we are accountable to com-munity leadership. We have workshop opportunities extended to us, but there still seems to be a void in terms of specific steps to take to know that we are really growing as much as the Lord is calling us to grow. Many articles written for us today in religious journals seem to re-flect a growing need for focus in this area of continuing formation. They address issues of the compulsions and codependency in our society and in our religious lives. These issues are influencing us spiritually, emo-tionally, relationally, physically, and in our ministry. Many of these ar-ticles conclude with the suggestion that the reader investigate the 12- step programs such as Alcoholics Anonymous. The S.P.E.A.K. model begins where these articles conclude, Many religious men and women are finding the 12-step journey to be a power-ful resource. This model comes from reflecting upon the experiences which many have shared with me--priests, religious men and women, and lay persons. It is a summary of what we have found to be helpful for us. It is offered as a resource tool for anyone looking for more spe-cific help in this deepening journey of spirituality and ministry. 189 190 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 Summary of the Model There are three parts which serve as the basis for the S.P.E.A.K. model. First, the 12 steps are used as concrete steps or tools for continu-ing growth. Second, it is holistic. It includes the aspects of our lives as people who are Spiritual, Physical, Emotional, Apostolic, and relational (Koinonia). Third, each person selects a formation companion. The reason for basing the model upon the 12 steps is that they have proved to be very effective for thousands of people as a tool for us to use to evaluate our level of trust in God, to examine our lives, to make changes when we see we need to do so, to maintain an abiding attitude of balance and prayer in our lives and in our ministry and relationships with others. As we look at these 12 steps taken as a group, it is very apparent that we are returning to all that has been best for us in our previous routines of the spiritual life: regular daily examen, confession and extraordinary confession, retreats, daily spiritual reading, prayer, community sharing of our growth with each other, and profound dedication to sharing the Good News with a troubled world. The reason for basing the model upon a holistic view is that it is very easy for us to allow one or two areas of life to receive our attention. The challenge of life is to live in such a wholesomely balanced way that we proclaim Jesus, his Spirit~-and his Father's love by being the wonder-fully created person we are called to be spiritually, physically, emotion-ally, relationally, and in our ministry. The reason for basing the model upon having a formation compan-ion is twofold. It is a privileged thing to have someone who loves us un-. conditionally, even when we let the other person really know us. This frees us to grow even more. Secondly, it helps us to become very, very honest with ourselves and with our God when we agree to share what is happening in our lives at a deep and personal level with at least one other human being. This facilitates an attitude of openness and honesty which is an essential prerequisite of continuing formation. The Twelve Steps It is important to remember that even though one of the areas of the S.P.E.A.K. model is the spiritual, all the areas of our life are permeated by the principles of the spiritual journey. We keep taking these steps over and over in all areas of life, and new insights become revealed to us. Per-haps it is no coincidence that there were 12 tribes, 12 apostles, and now the foundation of 12 steps! Sometimes it is said that a coincidence is a miracle when God chooses to be anonymous. The S.P.E.A.K. Model / "191 Orginally there were six steps as part of a spiritual movement called the Oxford movement, but those using these steps in A.A. realized they needed a little more guidance and expanded them to 12. The basic sense of these 12 steps can be divided into three groups. In steps 1-3 we come to a profound sense of what it means to really trust God. In steps 4-11, we clean our house, and continue to keep it clean. In step 12 we work to practice these principles in all our affairs, all as-pects of our lives. It can be a temptation for us to approach the steps rationally, to ana-lyze why they work. This is not the issue for those using the S.P.E.A.K. model. The issue is to walk these steps personally, humbly with heart, gut, and head. An analogy might be that we can read inspirational arti-cles about exercise and walking until the cows come home, but if we do not put one foot in front of the other and go walking, we cannot go very far or get in very good shape. Step One. We admitted we were powerless over life's conditions, that our lives had become unmanageable. (In the A.A. literature, this step reads, "We admitted we were powerless over alcohol--that our lives had become unmanageable." This is the only step that is changed in the S.P.E.A.K. model.) Even though other steps may seem to be more threatening in the be-ginning, it seems that the hardest step for us to take is step one. This is also the first be-attitude (Beatitude). The journey begins when we can finally be at a point in our lives where we are ready to surrender, to let go, to realize that there is something in our lives over which we have no control. Then we are ready to let God in to take over, to begin again in a new and deeper way this thing called his continuing formation. Our "something," our life condition, may be other people who are in our lives, some part of work, our relationships, our predominant com-pulsions, our health, our behavior, our self-perceptions, our resentments, fears, anxiety, our sin, our habits, our way of being "off the mark." There are many resources available to help us see our personal pow-erlessness. Some of these ways are: meditation using available schools of spirituality, or we might just sit, as in Zen guided ways, or use ap-proaches to centering prayer. We might pursue the insight into our par-ticular compulsions through the study of the Enneagram. We also might just listen to our own lives if we are having pain. Pain is a wonderful catalyst to growth! If we really want to take this step honestly, it is much easier if we share our "muddling through it" with another person. Whatever means Review for Religious, March-April 1991 we use, it is important to know that this S.P.E.A.K. model is not possi-ble until we take step one. Step Two. "Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity." Sanity means wholeness. It means balance. Once we find ourselves in real need of change, our challenge is to allow ourselves to "come to," to wake up as if from the slumber or self-delusion we were in. The only assent required at this step is to believe that we are not the center of our universe, that there is a power greater than ourselves, that we are loved, and that we can become powerfully renewed. Ephesians 4:22-24 is one of many texts which comes to mind at this step. You must give up your old way of life; you must put aside your old self, which gets corrupted by following illusory desires. Your mind must be renewed by a spiritual revolution so that you can put on the new self that has been created in God's way, in the goodness and holiness of truth. Step Three. "Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood him." This step leads us to accept God's power in our lives. In step two we may want the revolution to happen. We might believe it possible, but it is in step three that we make a specific decision to let go and to let God take over. Revolution means change, and that is what we give consent to in step three without controlling any part of it. When we speak of such trust, we are using our own words, our own sense of who, at this time, God is for me. We make a prayer of this step and share it with another hu-man being. These steps are not done in the dark, but we bring them to the light and speak them to another. Step Four. "Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of our-selves.". We all have instincts. Most fall into the areas of social instincts, secu-rity instincts, and sexual instincts. Again it seems no coincidence that our vows are in the areas of obedience, poverty, and chastity. In this step, we accept to look at our lives as the beginning of a lifetime prac-tice. We look in a searching way at fears, resentments, harms, and hurts we have done, and which have been done to us. We name the instincts which are threatened, and our responses to them. We come to see our not-so-good patterns, our character defects, and our gifts, our assets as well. We see how we have been growing, and how we have yet to grow. The word, "fearless" is very important~ If we find ourselves resist-ing this inventory, then there is nothing wrong with staying at steps one, The S.P.E.A.K. Model / 193 two, or three. When we have become tired of life's condition, when we can believe that we can change, when we have really taken step three, then step four will follow comfortably without fear. Step Five. "Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human be-ing the exact nature of our wrongs." In this step we invite another human being to be with us as we say out loud what we have learned in step four. There are many ways to do this, but as we come to name our patterns, our ways of responding, we gain insights, especially if the other person has taken this step, and truly loves us. To bring awareness before God is one thing, and it is beauti-ful. To bring awareness before God and another human being, to share it, to own it in the light is both beautiful and a blessing. This step helps us to stop isolating, to experience many profound les-sons in humility, to experience a whole new sense of kinship, of one-ness with others and with God. This kinship opens us to a connected-ness with whole new insights into the human condition, our place in the world, and a God consciousness which becomes a personal experience. Step Six. "Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character. ' ' After the insights are gained in step five, more action is required. We do not only gain insight on this spiritual journey, but we use the in-sights. We made a decision in step three to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood him; now in this step we real-ize that we are still very resistant people. We have worked hard to de-velop the defects we have. We wonder, "Who am I if I let go of them?" We even let ourselves chuckle at how we are as self-centered little chil-dren, and pray to get ready to let go of those defects of our character which we have learned about. Sometimes we say, "Of course I want them taken away," and this step is easy, but if that is not our experience at any given time, we accept to admit this is the step we are taking. Step Seven. "Humbly asked him tO remove our shortcomings." When we feel we are in charge, we try to use willpower, or positive imaging instead of taking this step. This step calls for us again to admit our powerlessness, our need for God. It is ego puncturing because we admit we cannot do this of ourselves. As St. Paul says. "I do the things I do not want to do." This step frees us from the trap of pride and fear. Little by little after we take this step, we find ourselves thinking differ-ently, feeling differently, r.esponding differently. People and situations around us change, if we have prayed our own seventh step prayer out loud with another human being. 194 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 Step Eight. "Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became will-ing to make amends to them all." In religious life many of us were trained to forgive., forgive. forgive. This is essential; however, the eighth step helps us to focus on the resentments, the fears, the harms, and the hurts of our lives by paying attention to our responses. We can forgive and fester externally or internally for a long, long time! As we shared our fifth step, we became aware of ways in which our responses might have "needed improvement," or perhaps we were out-and- out vindictive. This step is best taken with another person to help us be thorough, to help ourselves not to hide, to isolate, or to be too hard on ourselves. Again, if this becomes fearful, perhaps there is a need to look at how badly we want this growth, the quality of our surrender and trust, and the reality of our seventh step. But we can also remember we are only making a list in this step. Step Nine. "Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, ex-cept when to do so would injure them or others." This step is also best discerned with another person, both to keep us honest as well as to help us figure out the best way to go about this ac-tion. Sometimes a person has died. Sometimes the person has moved, or we moved away. A letter might be enough, or we might need to wait to see her or him again. Sometimes it is best to let it go, and our forma-tion companion can help us decide when this is really true. Regardless, the freedom which comes inside us as we become ready to take responsibility for the consequences of our behavior is very exhilarating. Step Ten. "Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it." In order for the spiritual revolution to continue, we need to remain ready. Step ten is really a daily, weekly, monthly, and annual review of steps two through nine. There are many ways and resources available to us to use in this step. One way is to allow our dreams to happen, to write them down, to "mull over" their meaning with our formation compan-ion. Another is to be faithful to writing in a notebook of some sort a mini-fourth step, a summary of the good and the not-so-good of the day, to share it, then to do steps six through nine with what we learn. The more we do this, the easier and more comfortable it becomes. Step Eleven. "Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our con-scious contact with God as we understood him, praying only for knowl-edge of his will for us and the power to carry that out." The S.P.E.A.K. Model I 195 As we do the preliminary steps and work this step, we find that every-thing else is also "falling into place." We work this step as humble, empty vessels who know our need for God. We accept to be still, to lis-ten, to receive. Just as we could use the many resources available to us in the Church to take step one, we can also draw upon these resources to help us deepen in step eleven. There are three centers out of which we operate--the gut, the head, and the heart. Our predominant sin is located in there somewhere, and so is our growth. Perhaps centering prayer, the prayer of nothingness, is our vehicle. Perhaps more head-centered meditation on Scripture and spiritual teach-ings is our vehicle. Perhaps contemplation of images and affective re-sponse to them serve as our vehicle. Perhaps being with nature, or litur-gical celebrations, or devotions become our vehicles. The important thing is that we be as we are called to be. We have learned in these steps to let go and let God. If we share how we feel with our formation com-panion, this step becomes a profound and nourishing experience. In this step an awakening happens which leads us to hunger after holi-ness (wholeness) in all areas of our life. Our emotions become balanced. Our bodies seek proper rest, work and play rhythms, food and drink. We hunger for a sharing of peace and reconciliation in our relationships and in the world. We find ourselves led deeply to the roots of our religious lives, to a sense of meaning of sacrament and church, of our community's charism, and we become ready to witness this new sense in our relation-ships and in our ministry. Step Twelve. "Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to others, and to practice these prin-ciples in all our affairs." We have received a free gift. We can work to keep it alive, but if we hold on to it exclusively, it becomes stagnant. That is the nature of the spiritual journey. As a result of these steps, we have known a spiri-tual awakening. We have known love, a God and Gospel consciousness at a personal level. The irony of this love is that we must let it go if we are to hold on to it. Anything we used to hold on to is constantly chal-lenged by the gift of our new God-relationship. We find ourselves driven to live right attitudes--to develop God attitudes, the be-attitudes, to do his Way in all of our life. Select a Formation Companion We have a long-standing precedent for having a spiritual compan- Review for Religious, March-April 1991 ion within the Church as well as within many of the Oriental religions. However, even though we have been encouraged to avail of spiritual direc-tors, many religious have not availed themselves of these opportunities. This was for a variety of reasons. Some wondered what there was to talk about. Some could not find someone who felt qualified. Some used a con-fessor, and kept the focus more sin-and problem-centered. Some used spiritual directors, but restricted the interactions to areas of the spiritual domain. Others have used a spiritual director as a formation companion without naming the person as such. This latter group knows the power and potential for having a formation companion. The qualification for being someone's companion is that we are also working these steps, and sharing honestly of ourselves with someone. No advanced degrees are required because it is humility found in a relationship with God that we seek. The formation companion could be male or female, priest, religious, or lay person. What is important for us is that our companion understand these steps, and be willing to walk with us as we journey them. The criterion we use to ask someone to serve as our formation com-panion is that we feel this person cares for us, has common sense,~,and is also working a "formation program." Our companion calls us to honesty and celebrates growth with us, but this person does not attempt to fill any need other than serving as the formation companion. As we grow, we may find ourselves broadening and using many others to share our journey. We may use physicians, psy-chologists, a spiritual support group, the people with whom we live, other friends, our superiors, our employers, a confessor. The Areas of the S.P.E.A.K. Model Spiritual The steps lead us completely in this area. As we grow in this spiri-tual revolution and in union through steps one through eleven, we de-velop insights that lead us to hunger for balance in the other areas. We find that as we deepen and grow in this area, if there has been careless-ness in the communal expression of our prayer, even this turns around. We soften. We find time where time was not to be found before. We hun-ger to be with each other in our religious expression as well as in the deeper leadings of the area of Koinonia. Physical The body is essential for us if we are to operate as feeling, relating The S.P.E.A.K. Model / 197 human beings. It is a vital source for information about our lives, and a key support for us to function in all areas. Our bodies can be scream-ing warnings to us if we will pay attention. For example, our bodies tell us if we are suppressing feelings or living relationships in ways that are dishonest to ourselves or to others. We can experience gastrointestinal problems, ulcers, high blood pressure, cancer, and back problems. If there is rigidity in the muscles, there is often rigidity in the emotions and spirit. The challenge of this area is to listen to the cues, to work the steps to learn what is happening, and to develop habits which are life-giving, respectful, and nurturing for the body as well as the other areas of our lives. If we listen to the input of others as well as observe our own lives, we may see that we are making body choices which are harmful to the other S.P.E.A.K. areas. For example, we might be choosing the use of substances such as nicotine, caffeine, alcohol, or sugar as substitutes for feeling, or to fill emotional, spiritual, or relational lack. In addition to life choices which affec( our continuing formation, there are those choices for fast food, for beef, for comfort and conven-ience which have implications for the rest of the world's famine and un-dernutrition. Part of the challenge of this area is the aspect of practicing the physi-cal and spiritual discipline of fasting to detoxify and rebalance the body, to reverse even degenerative illness, and to bring ourselves into a deeper harmony with others. Just as we need to keep working these steps in the other areas where physical inertia is seen, we have a cue that an imbalance is happening, and an opportunity to reflect upon the reason for this shutdown. Inertia is life denying. The body requires regular aerobic movement to increase the circulatory flow, the metabolic rate for heart, skeletal and muscular tone, for body conditioning, and to allow for oxygen to get to the brain. Emotional One of the promises of the awakening which we experience in step eleven is a sense that emotional balance and wholeness are happening. Before we experience this balance, however, we would have taken some serious steps to be ready for inner healing. These steps take time, and as we learn more about who we are, we can continue to share this with another, work with it, work these steps and deepen. Perhaps as we did our inventory, we saw patterns of overinflated or underinflated self-esteem, patterns of overe.ngagement in activity or serv-ice, perfectionism, depression, fear, resentments. Perhaps we saw that 198 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 we isolate from others, do not share our feelings. Perhaps we give our love and attention to pets, compare ourselves to others, blame others, feel jealous, judge people's motives, interpret others' motives to others, think rigidly either positively or negatively about others, isolate ourselves from others or hide our feelings or practice. Perhaps we use food or drink, work, sex to hide from feelings. The task of these steps is to bring the darkness to light, that the dark-ness may lose its power over us. In the S.P.E.A.K. model, we practice naming our feelings, reflecting upon what happens to trigger them, look-ing at our instincts which we perceive as being threatened and at our re-sponses to these threats. As we practice this and work steps two through nine, we find ourselves growing much stronger, more serene, more pow-erful, and more humble. Apostolic Today's society, the "world" of St. John's gospel, rewards us if we have power. We are encouraged to become specialists. This applies to the areas of medicine, psychology, sbcial work, education, spiritual direction, and pastoral ministry. It is easy for us to be sensitive to our congregational financial pressures, to time demands, and to be seduced by this world. For those walking the Gospel path, working the 12 steps, the value of our apostolic mission is in living out our spiritual awakening and ex-perience. This is why the spiritual, emotional, and koinonia areas are so important as prerequisites to ministry. Our mission is to be the charism of our congregations in deep solidarity with the anguish which is under-neath all the glitter of power and success. If we are not yet comfortable with our own anguish, and with sharing it with others, we cannot con-vey this experience to others. As Nouwen says, our leadership, our value lies in that we dare to claim our irrelevancy in the contemporary world. We are parts of insti-tutions, but our challenge is to be humble, to work these steps, to walk a spiritual path, to reflect the koinonia attitude in how we reflect the mer-ciful love and justice of God with others. Koinonia In the 12 steps, we come to let go of fears or pseudocommunity pre-tenses, self-seeking, and control. The 12 steps help us to relate more hon-estly, more compassionately to the people with whom we live and work, but there is anoiher dimension beyond this. Koinonia is a Greek word meaning "a deep sense of interconnectedness, of communion with oth- The S.P.E.A.K. Model ers at the faith level." Rollo May suggests that our entire culture is schizoid, out of touch, avoiding close relationships, unable to feel, unable to express aggressive feelings directly, seclusive and personally withdrawn. In this koinonia area we measure our lifestyles against the radical demands of the Gos-pel model of Jesus. We contrast it with the dominant values of society, the dependencies, the addictions, the fear, and the lack of touch. Koinonia challenges us to see the whole world as a community. Our new spiritual awakening leads us to hunger to create a new civilization in which war, violence, terrorism, and oppression are banished. We know from our own personal experience that another way is possible. No one of us can do this of ourselves, but just as the early Church persisted, and pervades the earth today, so can we, one small community at a time! For interrelatedness to happen in this world, people have to be in-terrelating; then God takes over and lets the miracles happen. We let go, and let him. The challenge of koinonia is for us to drop pretenses, to leave the door open for others to see us cry, to be with us as we grow, to hear our laughter, to let people see how we love each other. From this koinonia sense, we grow to be able to include others, to let them walk in and touch us so that even more of us are empowered to know and wit-ness to his Good News. Summary The power of the S.P.E.A.K. model lies in our openness to continue to let go, to let God be God in our lives. We use and continue to use the 12 steps and a formation companion so that we deepen in a personal relationship with him. We work and pray to be teachable spiritually, physi-cally, emotionally, relati0nally, and in our ministry, not for ourselves, but so that a troubled world may know what w.e see, and hear, and know. As a direct result of working this program, of walking these steps, we find that we no longer have to hold up masks of spiritual perfection since we are "professional," vowed religious. Instead, we have become free to share our struggle with others as equals in his love. We share our spiritual progress. We do not need to be self-protective anymore, but our arms are open to include others. There is nothing to fear because there is nothing to protect. If there is concern as to how to start with these twelve steps, there are often ready and available resources in each local parish and in many retreat houses and religious communities. Many parishes have good solid parish leaders who are recovering from some compulsive pattern or ad-diction. These people are more than ready to share the Good News with 200 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 us. Also, many religious communities and retreat houses have members in 12-step programs, or who have learned of these steps by exploring them in their own lives. These people are also usually more than gener-ous in sharing what they have seen and heard with their own eyes and ears. 'RESOURCES Alcoholics Anonymous.Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions. New York: Alcohol-ics Anonymous World Services, Inc., 1981. Elgin, Duane. Voluntary Simplicity: Toward A Way of Life That Is Outwardly Sim-ple, Inwardly Rich. N.Y.: William Morrow & Co., 1981. Hart, Thomas N. The Art of Christian Listening. N.Y.: Paulist Press. 1980. Main, John, O.S.B. Death: The Inner Journey. Montreal: Benedictine Priory, 1983. Nouwen, Henri. With OutStretched Hands: Reflections on Christian Leadership in the Future. Unpublished paper, 1989. Palmer, Helen. Enneagram: Understanding Yourself and the Others in Your Life. San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1988. Peck, M. Scott. The Different Drum: Community Making and Peace. New York: Si-mon & Shuster, 1987. Schaef, Anne W. Co-Dependence: Misunderstood--Mistreated. Minneapolis, MN: Winston Press, 1986. Sperry, Len. "Daily Decisions About Nutrition." Human Development 9 (Spring, 1988). Pp. 40-46. Subby, Robert, and Fried, John. "Co-Dependence: A Paradoxical Dependency," in Co-Dependency! An Emerging Issue, Pompano Beach, Florida: Hath Communi-cations, 1984. Trungpa, Chogyam. Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism. Boston: Shambala, 1973. In the Valley of Decision Marie Beha, O.S.C. Sister Marie Beha, O.S.C., continues to reside in the Monastery of St. Clare; 1916 N. Pleasantburg Drive; Greenville, South Carolina 29609. In the early days of my religious life, one Sunday a month was set aside as a day of recollection, a retreat day. Out of earshot of the novice di-rector, we called it "dead Sunday," because it featured extra time for a meditation on death. Even though we resisted some of the more mor-bid descriptions following that meditation's first prelude, "Place your-self on your deathbed," the practice did ensure that we were regularly confronted with the realization of personal mortality. Today there are plenty of other reminders: tragedy that shouts in the headlines and is pictured in all its starkness on television or in the news magazines, the alarming statistics of the rising number of adolescent sui-cides, the toll of AIDS, the senseless slaughter of innocent victims in bombing raids, and the torture of random hostages. To this litany we add our more personalized grief over the death of family and friends. We know dying in all of its unexpectedness, its violence, its tragedy, our grief compounded the closer we are to the individuals who have died. And in our world of instant communication death is never very far away. What we are less familiar with is the dying of our institutions, our communities. Not that this is a new phenomenon either. It is as much a fact of life as the death of individuals but less perceptible except with the long look of history. By the time that history notices, however, those with most reason to mourn have already passed th.rough death them-selves. Yet institutional dying is an ever present reality. On the global level we are threatened by almost certain extinction if nation against nation 201 202 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 ever turns to nuclear war. We face the unknown consequences of our wan-ton destruction of rain forests centuries in the growing. We worry about environmental pollution passing on to the next generation, an earth poi-soned beyond, control. We experience that our technology so outstrips our wisdom that we may be as likely to kill as to cure. On the local level, that of the communities where we live, we con-front death every time a neighborhood is ripped up to make way for prog-ress or a business closes because of obsolescence. Families come to the end of the generations, as they have always done, but now the very in-stitution of the family itself seems doomed to extinction. Divorce, child-less marriages, abortion, weaken it from within, while drugs and the value-system of a consumer society attack it from without. Churches are empty so parishes close, following the demise of the parochial school. Religious communities face not only financial crises of major proportions but also the slow starvation of fewer and fewer vocations. Already some congregations are opting for survival through merger; others have been "suppressed," as the death process is termed, grimly enough, in Church law. Within the foreshortened history of our individual lives, we can no longer deny the mortality of our institutions; we are being invited to en-ter consciously into what is happening all around us. We become aware that some communities simply expire, brought down by their own dis-eased condition or their inability to receive from, or give life to, the world around them. They starve to death. Others die honorably and natu-rally of old age. Some fade away forced by circumstances to accept their growing irrelevance; others are felled by revolution while still in their prime. The question is not "Do institutions die?" but "How do they? And how do we respond to their dying?" Are we aware or do we prefer the apparent safety of denial? When denial is no longer possible, what do we do then? Rage against the inevitable? Give up? Bargain for more time? Or do we face institutional death with courage, living the present to the full, admitting that life's precariousness is part of its preciousness? The choice of response is ours, not only as individuals, but as commu-nities. Instant communication provides information; it does not ensure adequate response nor delay death's inevitability. Institutions must die, but how they die is a matter of decision. Ours! Theological Reflections for a Dying Community On our way north we had stopped overnight, availing ourselves of the gracious hospitality that had suggested, "Come anytime." The build- In the Valley of Decision / 203 ing was 1950-modern, far too large for the eight or so sisters who pres-ently occupied it. The refectory seemed cavernous; it could easily have seated forty. Mercifully the community room was small and cozy, the superior.exp!aining that it had once been the priest's dining room. She also mentioned that the third floor was closed off to save heat, and it was obvious that the second floor was sparsely populated. The situation was depressingly familiar. What was remarkable was the sense of joy that made supper a re-freshment for body and spirit. The sisters welcoming us ranged in age from the superior in her late 40s, who had introduced herself as "the only young sister here," to an octogenarian busily can'ying in dishes from the kitchen. I was seated next to a sister in a wheel chair who had been brought in by another sister who seemed to be using the wheel chair as a substitute walker. Both smiled a sincere welcome, "We are so glad to have you with us." Others gathered and I guessed the average age somewhere in the 70s. The conversation soon revealed that most were active in one way or another. Some spoke of bringing Communion to the sick; others of tutoring kids from the nearby elementary school. One 85- year-old had tales to tell of the black children she helped in a Head Start program; her love for the children was obvious. Another drew her chair closer to mine, saying that she did not hear well anymore and did not want to miss a word; her attentiveness the rest 6f the meal made us all more articulate. Table conversation included convent trivia but it did not stay there. The sisters read widely and well. They ~ere critical of what the~ had heard on TV, exchanged evaluations of VCR programs. And peppered me with good questions in a way that told me why they were so well in-formed about what was happening in the contemporary Church. When they welcomed visitors, these sisters welcomed the wider world. Towards the end of the meal, I deliberately intoned the familiar list of religious-life woes: few recruits, shrinking apostolates, the "greying" of the congregation. The facts were acknowledged. The sisters' response was obviously the fruit of many shared reflections. They were happy with the community they had chosen and the life they shared; now they would see each other through to the end. God was with .them, still at work in his world. As one said to me with a smile that I will never for-get, "Our community may be dying but God is making something new. ' ' As I threaded my way back to the freeway next morning, I found my-self reflecting on what I had heard and seen. There was no denial of 91~4 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 death. The shrinking number of sisters and their physical limitations were accepted facts of life; they were not neurotic preoccupations. The sisters were too alive for that. Their acceptance was not tainted with hopeless-ness and its equivalent suicide. They were not actualizing their worst fears by giving in to bitterness or despair. Today their community is alive; some tomorrow it might not be. Progression toward an end time is inevitable, whether it is their owndeath, that of the their beloved con-gregation, or the final days of the world. "And after that the judg-ment"., a judgment that is in the making in their response now. Im-plicit in the faith of these few old sisters was a whole theology of the death and dying of institutions. Awareness precedes acceptance. So faith-response to death and dy-ing begins by breaking through denial. Like the middle-aged woman look-ing in the mirror and acknowledging that the first wrinkles are more than shadows caused by poor lighting, all need to admit "We are moving to-ward death." This world is passing away and the institutions that pres-ently shape it will not always do so. Even now all are dying. At times this process accelerates and we experience the diminish-ment. The grace of such periods is that of bringing us into contact with a truth we too easily ignore; its occasion of sin is confusion in our re-sponse. There are seasons when death's approach must be resisted strongly; in fact, this is always our first response. "Choose life." But there comes a time when resistance is useless; surrender is called for. The difference between may be difficult to recognize but it is critically im-portant. Faith's response balances "choose life" with "accept death." For the believer, for the community of believers, the ultimate answer is not biological, nor sociological, but Christological. "Am I alive in Christ? Is my dying a going to the Father in and with Christ Jesus?" If so, my death is a coming alive. "Or am I mortally, morally, and spiritually sick unto eternal death?" Then my living and my dying are both lost forever. Responding to this question that all death and dying puts before us forces freedom's choice. Our answer rises out of life; it is the last sylla-ble in the sentence we have been phrasing in all the pronouncements of life, all individual or institutional decision-making. Only in death will we become finally free to speak the word that is Self. Only in the act of dying will we, individuals and communities, be capable of that con-summation of freedom which is total, absolute, commitment. In dying, the mystery of living stands revealed; dying-rising are one whole mystery, one continuous process, one word, even though our ex- In the Valley of Decision / 205 perience, as well as our orthography, spells it with a hyphen. Dying is a breakthrough into life; at least, it can be. That is freedom's choice; we determine the meaning. Just as Jesus did. Dying: Christological Implications. How did Jesus die? The answer has been repeated so often that the cross has lost its power to say anything; it is decoration more than real-ity. Yet redemption, becoming free, growing into holiness, are only pos-sible when we as individuals, as communities, enter into the passion and death of Jesus. So again, how did Jesus die? As we do, moving through the process of realizing it, being angered by it, bargaining with it, feeling blackness of depression, and, finally, coming to an acceptance that transforms death into fuller life. Particularly in the gospel of Luke, we see the whole life of Jesus as a moving toward his death. We read, "He set his face toward Jerusa-lem" (Lk 9:51). This was where he was going, the call of his Father's .love, the motivation for his every redemptive act. Death and dying were important concerns he spoke about to those who were closest to him. Not that they understood or appreciated such reminders of mortality. They denied the facts, even protested. They were for kingdom building here, now, in their world. And Jesus rebuked them sharply, "Get behind me, satan" (Mk 8:33). Jesus acknowledged death's inevitability; he knew that his way of liv-ing would lead to the cross. What he chose was life, a life that would climax in death. He freely accepted the fatal consequences of choosing to live, to teach, to act as he did. Aware and able to choose, in the free-dom that rose from who he was before the Father, he embraced the dy-ing that went with the living. Knowing and accepting did not rule out protest. Jesus' response to the pharisees who were seeking to put him to death (Jn 8:40) was clear and unequivocal. They were doing the work of the devil, whose sons they were! Even at the end, Jesus protested the injustice of his being con-demned to death. He refused to cooperate with Herod's court of inquiry, remaining silent when lifesaving prudence might have dictated at least a minimum of cooperation. Before Pilate, his protest became vocal. "Do you ask this of your own accord. ? . My kingdom is not of this world" (Jn 18:35). Previous to this, the power of his self-assertion directed against the soldiers sent to arrest him had set them back on their heels. Jesus was angry; he did not deserve death. "If I have done good why do you seek 206 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 to kill me?" Why die? Why me? That is the protest life addresses to death. Ultimately it becomes a question addressed to the Lord of life. Why suffering? Why dying? The answer does not come easily. The healthier the person, the more wrench-ing the acceptance. Jesus sweat blood before his will could speak out its central commitment, "Not my will but yours be done" (Mk 14:37). The struggle, the bargaining, were finished. The passion continued. The dying of Jesus moved toward completion, each stage bringing him down, deeper into "the pit of death." Betrayal, abandonment, physi-cal and emotional abuse would take their terrible toll. Fastened to the cross Jesus would drink death's cup to the bitter dregs. He would express heartbreak in a cry of desolation, "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" (Mk 15:34). "He who did not know sin had been made sin" (2 Co 5:21) for our sake, and Jesus felt the oppression of slavery and alienation. He accepted, "It is accomplished" (Jn 19:30). His last word summed up his life's orientation. He would die as he had lived into the hands of his Father, his trust redeeming the horror of death by cruci-fixion, transforming passion's suffering into self-offering. The acceptance of Jesus' surrender opened out into the new life of resurrection. What he gave up, he received back; rather, his resurrection was a "making new." Through dying, he went beyond death. This is now clear to us with the evidence of something accomplished. But for Jesus, as for us, surrender into death was an act of faith, an experience of letting go with only trust to justify the risk. Death must come first, before new life is possible. Jesus had to lose his life. So must we. Mortality Denied The passion and death of Jesus is invitation, something we can freely enter into or can refuse and resist. Whatever our choice, the process ton-tinues but its effectiveness depends radically on our response to this fact of life, our mortality as individuals and as communities. We can opt to live through our dying or we can choose to deny death and so die to life. Denial is the first of our resistances. A community, for example, can refuse to face what is happening, as the number of new members de-creases and average age rises. Data are challenged; the credentials of the statistician questioned. Others are blamed for the crisis; "they" are no longer generous, interested, concerned. These are obvious forms of de-nial and they do nothing to stop the progress of decline. Less obvious is the denial that refuses to face, not only the symp-toms, but the cause of the illness as well, its seriousness, the rate of pro-gression, its effect on others. Why is community dying? Is it diseased, In the Valley of Decision / 207 brought down by "infection" from surrounding culture or by a lifestyle that is no longer functional? Or is it simply succumbing to old age, the inevitable decline that is the underside of history's progress? Is this pro-cess reversible, something that a group needs to pass through and then go on with life as before? Or does it require a change of direction, a new and different way of living? Is this illness terminal? If so, how much time is left? How rapid the progression of present rates of decline? Howare others affected by our dying as community? Are they suffering too, and what can be done to alleviate their pain? The questions are stark; no one asks them lightly. Unwillingness to even look at them is denial made possible through the use of those de-fense mechanisms with which we are all too familiar. We rationalize, pre-senting specious reasons to explain present experience: we are not dy-ing, just "indisposed." The whole problem is temporary; things will turn around soon. Besides we are not to blame. The reverse side of this stance.is: some-body must be. We blame other people, including God! Our dying is the will of God and so must be accepted. Perhaps. "God willing" may ex-press surrender but it may also attribute to God something that we have not yet faced. The very rightness of our reasoning is all the more dan-gerous because it cloaks denial with religious ritual, an especially safe form of repression. Paradoxically, community may also deny responsibility by giving too much credence to those who are predicting its demise; it lacks the inner freedom to reply, "The reports of our death are greatly exagger-ated!" While the prophets of doom may be correct, they may also be mis-taken. The accuracy of their prophecies will only be revealed when the future becomes present. All we know now is that attitude makes a dif-ference. While refusing to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation will not cure it, giving up hope will surely condemn us to death. Another inappropriate response attempts to ignore the whole ques-tion and continues, doggedly, to do what "we have always done." We may call this fidelity but it is not. Fidelity is creative response incorpo-rating past into present and moving on into the new of the future. Denial condemns to fruitless repetition that goes nowhere. Preoccupation with safety and security needs is a rather accurate index of a group's mori-bund condition. Overreliance on what has worked in the past may simu-late faith, but it really is presumption. "God will take care of us" may be just another attempt to manipulate God into doing what we neglect to do for ourselves. 2011 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 Denial is failed responsibility; it violates the delicate line of balance between doing all that we can but not more than we ought. So commu-nity that is experiencing some of the symptoms of approaching death errs either by ignoring the situation or by exaggerating solutions. It can, for example, refuse assistance, since accepting help involves admitting a need for it. It can also erupt in a flurry of poorly planned activity, lis-tening to every guru who promises gilt-edged salvation. Fund-raisers can be a preferred way for Americans to refuse responsibility while appear-ing to assume it. Community Anger The hidden blessing of denial is its inevitable failure. When facts can no longer be avoided, they must be faced. Anger follows. Unfortunately, it too can be denied, hidden, buried under heaps of inappropriate behav-ior, deflected in projections; or it can rage out of control, leaving devas-tation in its wake. Anger denied is dangerous; anger accepted and appropriately ex-pressed is powerful energy for good. It can move a community deeper into the paschal mystery; it can lead to life. The question is how? The first answer: by acknowledging what is happening. Are we as commu-nity angry? What are we angry about? Community anger, like that of individuals, is often misplaced. It looks for some convenient target; so we kick the dog because we cannot face its owner. Seeking some scapegoat we may even turn against our own. If our predecessors had only been wiser. If present membership were less selfish, recruitment more effective, formation better planned. What may have been only contributing factors are made to bear the whole weight of adequate causes. The same projection of anger can be vented on persons and groups outside community. The more helpless the victim, the safer the outrage. An angry community becomes increasingly critical. Its spirit grows sour; its activity strained and harsh. It asks too much of members and of others. Aggressivity swallows up joy, dissolves compassion. Dying is always pain-filled, difficult. Anger is a "messy" emotion. Commu-nity at this stage will be broken wide open, all its wounds and weak-nesses revealed. Members will leave, pursued by the fury of those who remain and feel abandoned. Those who stay may wallow in unattractive self-pity, becoming entrenched in the very symptoms of the dying. Underneath this storm of pain, community is most of all angry at it-self. We cannot live "on our own"; mortality strikes a vital blow at the myth of .self-sufficiency. The length of our days is not something we con- In the Valley of Decision / 209 trol. Our raging against this will not change its truth. Acceptance is the only way through and out. Grief Work But first community needs to mourn. We are losing our life. We may not know yet whether what we are facing is the final test of death and burial or only the call to pass through another cycle of dying. In either case we must enter into the pain. Grievir~g community needs both time and distance. Some members can let go of the.past more quickly than others, the rate being determined by such variables as temperament and degree of attachment. Mourning demands patience; it is not just linear but cyclic. Going through requires repetition, reexperiencing and reexpressing the grief. Things will not be the same . . . ever., this is an ending. Community needs to provide itself with space and time for the griev-ing. When members leave, for example, those who are left behind may have as much adjusting to do as those who face the transition into new beginnings. The anger of the community may even be increased by the fact---characteristic of all our dying--that it has been confronted with a decision not of its own choosing. Healthy grieving not only takes time; it has its own timing. How long it lasts and how often the cycle of anger., depression., anger. must be repeated cannot be determined from outside community. But, finally, a group, as well as the individuals who compose it, need to make a decision to move on. We will never be the same. The past cannot be reconstructed; nor those who have been part of us, returned. As much as we might like to remember past glory-days, they no longer offer the satisfaction of present reality. Now we have to live., or not live. in the present. Unhealthy grieving fails this reality test. It can be so prolonged that all one's life energy goes into it; dying is all that remains of life. That is not grief but defeat. Even in the pain the option remains to "choose life." So a community that is dying can continue to model attitudes of openness and concern for others. It can choose to serve as long and as much as it is able. In doing so it affirms the ultimate value of life even in the midst of death. Community can avoid the withdrawal, the turning in on self, that threatens to allow dying to become a form of being buried alive. De-pression risks just such introversion. Granted that the temptation to al-low pain to become preoccupation can be great, it is also self-defeating. It only intensifies and prolongs the suffering. Depression that is indulged 910 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 in grows bitter and that is the worst kind of death; in the end, the natural aloneness of dying becomes enforced isolation. To avoid this, outside support is almost necessary to assist groups working through depression. Their greater objectivity enables com-munity not to get stuck in the process. Perhaps all that others do is to name what is going on and this already frees energies. While ac-knowledgment is one service others render, appreciation is still more thera-peutic. ApFreciation of what has been, yes, but also gratitude for the im-mediate gift that the dying community continues to offer, its participa-tion in the paschal mystery. Acceptance of Death Acceptance should not image supine submission to what can no longer be avoided. It is an attitude of strength that kno
