Suchergebnisse

Issue 46.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1987. ; R~.\'~l~w ~oR R~.~;iotJs ( ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration wflh faculty members of St. Louis University's Department of Theological Studies. The editorial offices are located at 3601 Lindell Blvd., Room 428; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. R~.:w~.w FOR R~,~;Iou.~ is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO © 1987 by R~-:vw:w ~.'OR R~-:~.~t;n)tJs. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription: U.S.A. $11.00 a year; $20.00 for two years. Other countries: add $4.00 per year(surface mail). Airmail(Book Rate): $18.00 per 3'ear. For subscription orders or change of address, write: R~:\'~r:\v ~'t)a REl.~;IOtlS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F.X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.SoN.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor Jan./ Feb., 1987 Volume 46 Number I Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to Rl.:VlEW FOR R~:l,lc.mt;s: Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REv~:w you R~:~,w.~ot~s: Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. Review for Religious Volume 46, 1987 Editorial Offices 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428 Saint Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Daniel F.X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is published in January, March, May, July, September, and November on the twentieth of the month. It is indexed in the Catholic' Periodical and Literature Index and in Book Review Index. A microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is available from University Microfilms International; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Copyright © 1987 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. A major portion of each issue of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is also regularly available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East.23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. Christ: the Heart and Soul of Vocation John R. Quinn On October 4, Feast of St. Francis of Assisi, Archbishop Quinn addressed the fol-lowing homily in the course of a Eucharist celebrated for religious of San Francisco. It provides a fitting celebration of the conclusion of his commission's work. Archbishop Quinn may be addressed at: Office of the Archbishop; 445 Church Street; San Francisco, California 94114-1799. One week from today I will arrive in Rome. A few days later I will present to the Holy Father the final report of the Pontifical Commission on religious life in the United States. One of the tasks assigned to the Pontifical Commission was to under-take a study of the reasons why young people do not enter religious life in greater numbers. It was a long and exacting study involving a large number of priests, religious and lay people. Clearly, it is excessive to believe that any one single cause can explain the phenomenon of the decline in vocations. Just as obvious is the fact that there are causes internal to the life of the Church as well as causes which touch all of human society. Yet there is one striking factor in the decline of vocations which emerged in our study and it seems to me very fitting to touch on it in the context of this Feast of St. Francis. One of the first things that comes to mind when we think of St. Francis is poverty. Poverty was to be one of the hallmarks of his sanctity. But what was the meaning of that poverty for Francis? Was it a protest against the excesses of the rich? A statement about social justice? A wit-ness of solidarity with the oppressed? There may have been some of these factors, of course. But the overwhelming and consuming reason for the poverty of 3 4/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 Francis was his love for Christ Jesus our Lord. His poverty was a power-ful witness that those things I used to consider gain I have now reappraised as loss in the light of Christ. I have come to rate all as loss in the light of the surpassing knowledge of my Lord Jesus Christ. For his sake, I have for-feited everything; I have accounted all else rubbish so that Christ may be my wealth and I may be in him . I wish to know Christ and the power flowing from his resurrection; likewise to know how to share in his sufferings by being formed into the pattern of his death" (Ph 3:7- 10). For Francis, poverty was his witness to the centrality and Lordship of Christ. In our study of the decline in vocations, we did not hear much about poverty. But we did learn that if we want to attract vocations, the reli-gious dimension of our lives must be unambiguous, and that religious must be more willing to share that dimension than they have been. It is not that American religious are not contemplative and spiritual men and women. They are, and our study shows that they are increas-ingly so. Yet Americans are somewhat inclined to regard religion as a private, interior affair not to be discussed. And this is the weakness. The rich treasure of our relationship with Christ and his meaning for us has to come out more. The story needs telling. But how can we tell the story of a relationship we do not have? And so the contemplative dimension of our lives is the foundation of every-thing else. It is the contemplative dimension that makes it possible for the religious to say to Christ what the lover said in Christopher Fry's play: "Everything I loved before has come to one meeting place in you. And you have gone out into everything I love." So deep was this reality in Francis that he spent whole nights repeat-ing the simple prayer,,,"My God and my all!" When we look at the per-vasive contemplative dimension of Francis' life, it is significant to recall that there are few saints who have had a more universal impact in all cul-tures, an impact that is strong and enduring even today. We need not fear that the contemplative dimension of our lives will reduce the effectiveness of our witness for justice or our service to the world. It will only enhance it. Think of the human service given by Francis himself, but think of the tremendous inspiration he has been for justice and peace through seven centuries. That inspiration cannot be sep-arated from his holiness, and his holiness is rooted in his union with Christ. The path of discipleship is perfectly articulated in a few brief words: Christ: The Heart and Soul "Those whom he foreknew he predestined to share the image of his Son" (Rm 8:29). Francis showed that one and only path of discipleship when he grew into the mystery of the Cross. Fittingly the Church brings to mind on his feast the words, "May I never boast of anything but the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ" (Ga 6:14). Without the Cross it is impossible to "share the image of his Son" who freely chose the Cross for himself as a witness of love and obedi-ence, as a witness of poverty and humility. Without the Cross there is no discipleship. But we should not forget that without the Cross there is no vision, no understanding. The Cross is the key to understanding the Church and human history. How can one learn the difficult grammar of the Cross without years of persevering and serious prayer? Thoreau, when asked why he was living in the wilderness, answered: "I do not want to come to my death and dis-cover that I have never lived." At death we will discover we have never lived the Christian life unless we have learned through the contemplative dimension to love and understand the mystery of the Cross. But what is this Cross for us? It is not wood. It is persons, places, circumstances, situations. Just as for the Lord, so for us, the Cross is what is absurd, ridiculous, frustrating, the unexplainable. The Cross is when we are powerless: no matter what we do, it makes no difference. The Cross is pain, it is loneliness, it is lack of support. It is confusion, uncertainty. But the Cross is also death -- it is letting go. It is surrendering every-thing into the Father's hands, and knowing that he will be glorified in us and in Christ Jesus. This mystery of the Cross we suffer both in the Church and in the world. We suffer before the tensions and divisions in the Church. We suffer before the massive and overwhelming injustices in the world. But in the midst of the Church and in the midst of that world, reli-gious are called to be the bearers of hope because they have lived and understood the Mystery of the Cross, and have personally discovered that the message of the Cross is complete absurdity to those who are headed for ruin, but to us who are experiencing salvation it is the power of God . Yes, Jews demand "signs" and Greeks look for "wisdom," but we preach Christ crucified. Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God (I Co 1:18; 22-25). It is the serious, prayerful contemplation of the Mystery of the Cross that yields the kind of love which is "patient; love [which] is kind., love [which] is never rude, [which] is not self-seeking, [which] is not prone to anger" (1 Co 13). It is this contemplative dimension which makes it Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 possible to say that "there is no limit to love's forbearance, to its trust, its hope, its power to endure" (ibid). And so it is this contemplative dimension that imparts the vision of the Church described by Gregory the Great some thirteen centuries ago: Because the daybreak or dawn changes gradually from darkness into light, the Church. is fittingly called daybreak or dawn. While she is being led from the night of infidelity to the light of faith, she is opened gradually to the splendor of heavenly brightness, just as dawn yields to the day after darkness. The Song of Songs says aptly: "Who is she who moves forward like the advancing dawn?" Holy Church, inasmuch as she keeps searching for the rewards of eternal life, has been called the dawn . The dawn intimates that the night is over; it does not yet pro-claim the full light of day . While it dispels the darkness and wel-comes the light, it holds both of them, the one mixed with th6 other. Are not all of us who follow the truth in this life daybreak and dawn? While we dp some things which already belong to the light, we are not free from the remnants of darkness. And so to Christ Jesus, crucified in weakness but risen in power, be glory in us and in the Church now and forever. Amen. From Tablet to Heart: Internalizing New Constitutions I and I! Address: by Patricia Spillane, M.S.C. Price: $1.25 per copy, plus postage. Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 "1 Have Called You Friends": The Priest Today John Paul H On July 5, 1986, Pope John Paul ordained ninety-two men to the priesthood in Medellin, Colombia. In the eucharistic celebration, the theme of which was "Fidelity to the Priestly Vocation," the Pope offered the following reflections. This article is based on the text which appeared in L'Osservatore Romano (18 August, 1986, pp. 4-5). Beloved brothers in the priesthood of Christ: "No longer do I call you servants., but I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you" (Jn 15:15). During the celebration of the Last Supper Jesus addressed these words to the apostles as he instituted the sacrament of his body and blood and charged them: "Do this in memory of me" (Lk 22:19). These words are linked in a most particular way with the priestly voca-tion. Christ makes the apostles priests, entrusting into their hands the sacrament of his body and blood. That body which will be offered upon the cross, that blood which will be shed (now under the species of bread and wine), constitute the memorial of the sacrifice of the Cross of Christ. In the Upper Room, Jesus calls his apostles friends because he has given them his body and blood. From that moment on, sacramentally real-izing this sacrifice, they were to work in his name, representing him per-sonally, in persona Christi. In this consists the essential greatness of the ministerial priesthood -- in which, today, you, sons of the Church of Colombia, of the Church of Medellin, will be made participants through the Sacrament of Orders. It is a very important day in your lives and in the life of this Church which, on this occasion, I wish to greet cordially. 7 Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 I affectionately greet the Christian people that has assembled this evening. The Christian nobility of your families -- nurseries for priestly and religious vocations -- and their deep adherence to the Church have been the characteristics of this beloved region of Colombia. The Priest's Vocation Is God's Initiative Today's liturgy indicates to us in a particularly profound way the truth about the priestly vocation. A vocation is first of all an initiative of God himself. God continuously calls individuals to the priesthood, just as in the past he called the prophets. How striking is the description of that call given by Jeremiah: "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you" (Jr 1:5). The "knowledge" of God signifies election, the call to partici-pate in the fulfillment of his salvific plan. In the light of the Mystery of the Incarnation, this choice is closely linked with Christ as Priest: "[God] chose us in him even before the foundation of the world" (Ep 1:4). "Before you were born I consecrated you" (Jr 1:5). Consecration to God is full and total dedication for one's whole life to a charge or mission, under the action of the Spirit of the Lord who anoints and sends (Is 61 : 1). Through Holy Orders the priest participates in the anointing and mission of Christ the Priest and Good Shepherd: "He has anointed me to preach good news to the poor"(Lk 4:18). For Eternity From this it follows that the mission of the priesthood carries the seal of eternity. You are consecrated forever. It is not a decision that is sub-ject to the fluctuations of time or the vicissitudes of life. It cannot be founded upon transient sentiments or feelings. It involves, as authentic love, permanence in fidelity. You are called to remain always with the Lord, tO perpetuate friendship with him day after day, in order to model yourselves after his heart. Only in the light of this love can the evangel-ical requirements that the priestly ministry involves be understood and lived. You must put your youth fully and without reserve at the service of Christ in order to become instrumenis of salvation without frontiers. "Be not afraid of them" (Jr 1:8), we are told in the first reading from the prophet Jeremiah. There is no room for doubt and discouragement. "For I am with you" (Jr 1:8), the prophet repeats to us. Human weak-ness is not an obstacle when we know how to recognize it and place it faithfully and confidently in the hands of God. The Risen Christ empha-sizes this presence: "It is I" (Mt 28:20). Thus is it possible to carry out the mission of the Lord: "to all to whom I send you, you shall go" (Jr 1:7). I Have Called You Friends "Behold I have put my words in your mouth" (Jr 1:9). These are "words of eternal life" (Jn 6:68) which sustain the generosity of the one sent and assure the fruit of the apostolate, even if through the Mystery of the Cross. Is it legitimate to fear the word and the call of God? No! One may fear human weakness, but God's call -- never. In fact, it always indicates a marvelous path: it calls one to a particular participation in the "great things of God." It is thus wise to listen attentively to the words of the Apostle in the letter to the Ephesians: "I, therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all lowliness and meekness, with patience" (Ep 4:1-2). Biblical Poverty Beloved sons, consider as well that the journey towards priestly holi-ness and the apostolate is one of biblical poverty. When we recognize our weakness, it is then that we are strong (see 2 Co 12:10). This attitude of humility, which is authenticity and truth, will lead you to recognize with joy that the priestly vocation is a gift of Christ's heart and a choice that reaches the depths of one's heart and mind. In the priestly vocation one experiences the contrast between the power and holiness of the Master who calls and the fragility and littleness of those who have been chosen. You have surely experienced within your-selves a sense of awe before the sublimity and the greatness of the mission that is being entrusted to you; but feel also the security and joy of knowing that it is Jesus who calls, that he will always be with you and give you the strength and joy to be faithful in his service. And he never abandons his disciples. Priesthood: A Gift for the Church The priestly vocation is a gift for the Church. In the Church there are diverse gifts, as the Apostle teaches us: "Grace was given to each of us according to the measure of Christ's gift" (Ep 4:7). All of these different gifts constitute an essential and unrepeatable "part" of "Christ's gift." In reality, all graces and charisms serve jointly "for building up the body of Christ" (Ep 4:12). Among these gifts, the ministerial priesthood takes on a particular importance. We participate in a special way in Christ's priesthood. Even if "from his fullness have we all received, grace upon grace" (Jn l:16), each participates in "Christ's gift" (Ep 4:7) according to particular graces and charisms, always at the service of the ecclesial community, which is the Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 communion of all the faithful. It is necessary to recognize, love and live the diversity and particularity of the gifts, precisely in order to build up the "one Body" of Christ that is the Church, animated by "one Spirit" (Ep 4:4). To the extent that you joyously love your priesthood, you will feel called to appreciate, respect, awaken and cultivate the other charisms of the ecclesial community in order to build up the Body of Christ unto perfection and fullness (see Ep 4:i2). The priestly identity is thus a joyous reality which we experience when we love the gift received in order to serve and improve others, with the commitment to "lay down our lives" like the Good Shepherd (see Jn 10:15). Give Yourselves in Love for Christ, for the Church If the priestly vocation is such a great gift for the Church, this means that you no longer belong to yourselves, but have become the property of Christ, who lives in this Church and awaits you in the many fields of the apostolate. You belong to Christ andto the Church, his "spotless Bride," whom "Christ loved . . . and gave himself up for" (Ep 5:25). This is what is asked of you: that you love. Love of Christ and love of the priesthood would not be possible with-out deep love for the Church, which, notwithstanding the limitations proper to her pilgrim state, does not cease to be the Body of Christ, his Spouse, and the People of God. Serve the flock as priest "not by constraint but willingly, not for shameful gain but eagerly., being examples to the flock" (1 Pt 5:2-3). May the community be able to see in you heralds of the Gospel, ded-icated to this mission of which the world has such urgent need -- a full time dedication, without invading other fields and secular occupations that do not concern you. May you be found in the place assigned to you by the bishop, whose collaborators you will be, in loyal unity, as solic-itous pastors, who in everything reflect their sacramental condition: in the soul's depths, in pastoral activity and in external behavior. To follow Christ also means to fee! truly Church, with filial love, ready for responsible collaboration and with a prompt and generous adher-ence to her discipline and norms, loyally cooperating with your bishop. Only through remaining with Christ, living with him, letting your lives be formed by him, will it be possible to proclaim him with decisiveness, frankness and ardor, communicating the experience that one lives in the mystery of and in communion with the Church, "the universal sacrament of salvation" (Ad Gentes, 1). I Have Called You Friends / 11 Abide in My Love In this way, beloved brothers and sisters, we today experience in a special way -- all of us here present -- the Father's love of which Christ speaks to the apostles on the eve of his death: "As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you" (Jn 15:9). In Christ, the Father's love becomes for us an inexhaustible source of life and light. "The priesthood is the love of the Heart of Jesus,'" said the holy Cure d'Ars, the second centenary of whose birth we celebrate this year, the year of your ordina-tion. Truly, "greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends" (Jn 15:13). It is Christ himself who lays down his life for us. And this "laying down of his life," this sacrifice, remains in the Church and, through the Church, remains in humanity from one gen-eration to the next. It remains through the word of the Gospel and in the Eucharist, the sacrament of the death and resurrection of Christ. It remains, therefore, through the ministry of priests. And through this ministry it renews itself and makes itself present in all ages. From the height of the Cross and from the heart of his salvific sacri-fice, Christ continues to say to us: "Abide in my love" (Jn 15:9). The Lord today tells each of you in a very special way, dear priestly candidates: "If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love" (Jn 15:10). Yes! "Just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his .love" (ibid). In these words the divine bond or relationship transposed to the dimension of human existence is truly manifested. We know well the commandments that constitute the solidity of this permanent bond in the love of Christ. We know very well the principles of priestly life, the requirements of priestly discipline that constitute the firmness of this response. It is truly a matter of sacrificing oneself in following Christ, and this excludes any form of self-establishment, and demands the greatest possi-ble readiness, as is required of him who has nowhere to lay his head (see Lk 9:57-62). It is a commitment that embraces all one's existence, as the Messiah, the Son of God, demands, who with his word calms the tem-pest, heals the sick, evangelizes the poor, drives out demons, reconciles humanity so as to regenerate it to life. He demands full submission to the will of his Father, who may lead you, like Peter, where you do not wish to go (see Jn 21:18). But he always leads the way, lovingly carrying the same cross that he places upon our shoulders and lightens. In fact, the Lord says: "My yoke is easy and my burden is light" (Mt I 1:30). A life faithful to these requirements, a life lived with this love, simulta-neously opens before us the prospect of divine joy. "These things I have 12/ Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full" (Jn 15:11). "This is true paschal joy" (Presbyterorum Ordinis, 11), characteristic of the priestly identity and the prelude to the flowering of priestly vocations. This is the meaning of the priestly vocation and of the service~of, or priestly ministry to, the People of God. "You Did Not Choose Me, But I Chos~ You" "You did not choose me, but I chose you" (Jn 15:16), says the Lord. These words we have all had branded on our hearts, you and I! They are Jesus' words in the familiar and intimate context of the Last Supper, when the Lord lovingly opens his heart to his disciples. It shows the gratuitous nature of his choice of those whom he constitutes his ministers, those to whom he entrusts a mission of particular importance. It is God who initiates the dialogue in salvation history, interwoven with the mar-velous reality of his love. It is he who takes the initiative with the trans-forming power of his Word that re-creates everything. "He first loved us" (Jn 4:9). For this reason the Lord adds: "I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide" (Jn 15:16). Just as the fruit of the first sowing of the Gospel in this land and on this continent has abided in an admirable way, so will your fruit abide today, in these last years of the second Christian millennium, as the fifth centen-nial of the beginning of evangelization in Latin America approaches. Why does this fruit of Christian life abide? Perhaps because those who sowed it knew, at the same time, how to pray, to ask in Christ's name: "So that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you" (Jn 15:16). And he will give it to us as well. Fraternal love will be the guarantee of our union with Christ and the efficacious sign of evangelization: "This I command you, to love one another" (Jn 15:17). The efficacy of the Gospel produces fruit that our eyes often do not see. The Lord's grace waits secretly in men's hearts. Today we are living off the seed which generations of generous missionaries planted in the fer-tile Colombian soil and God's grace has caused to sprout and bear fruit. Beyond Frontiers On this day which is so important for the Church, let us look to the future with confidence. The Church thanks you for the work that you are doing, beloved brother bishops and religious superiors, in the realm of vocations, with the cooperation of solicitous and suitable experts in forma-tion, attentive to the norms of the Church and the integral spiritual, academic and pastoral formation of candidates to the priesthood and reli- 1 Have Called You Friends gious life. I thank and bless you for the enormous amount of work which has been carried out in the vocations apostolate. The increase here must bring about the generous opening of hearts with a missionary spirit and a sense of co-responsibility, so that necessary help can be given to the other sister Churches which today suffer a shortage of priests. Looking to Mary, Mother of the Church and loving Mother of priests, in this extremely solemn moment, each of us will feel invited to imitate her motherly love: "In her life the Virgin has been a model of that motherly love with which all who join in the Church's apostolic mission for the regeneration of mankind should be agnimated" (Lumen Gentioum, 65). "The form of this world is passing away" (1 Co 7:31). The genera-tions of all peoples and nations pass away. But the words of the Lord do not pass away. Jesus' words pronounced at the Last Supper will now be made a reality through the Sacrament of Orders that we are about to confer upon the candidates here present. The entire Church of Colombia assembled around her bishops, the universal Church assembled around the Successor of Peter, raises its confident prayer to the Father for these deacons who today, in the city of Medellin, will receive the order of the priesthood. On Mirrors Mirrors can tell me only what I know, That with the rub of time all thing~ grow old. Nothing they hold to stir the still conviction, This must be -- Must wisely be. Wherefore, my summer over, In my skies the first sharp hint of snow, I turn all mirrors to the wall. Let come what may, This is a season now of no surprising -- Nearer the promised Springtime past surmising When God who gave me life Will claim it. Sister Cecilia Ward, S.C. Sacred Heart Convent 6225 Walnut Street Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 15206 Mythology, Revitalization and the Refounding of Religious Life Gerald A. Arbuckle, S.M. Father Arbuckle, well known to our readers, will be directing a workshop on the sub-ject of the refounding of religious orders this summer under the auspices of REVIEW FOR RE~Jr~OUS. Just completing a sabbatical year of study and formative prayer expe-rience, he returns to the East Asian Pastoral Institute (P.O. Box1815; Manila 2800; Philippines), where he may be addressed. A myth is a story or tradition which claims to enshrine a fundamental truth or inner meaning about the world and human life. Contrary to popu-lar belief, myths are not childish stories nor mere prescientific explana-tions of the world nor are myths to be equated with falsities or fantasies. Myths are deeply serious insights about reality. Without myths we are unable to determine what things really are, what to do with them, or how to be in relation to them. We come to this conclusion in more recent times because of the writ-ings of people like Raimundo Panikkar,' Karl Jaspers and Paul Ricoeur,2 but particularly because of the careful research of cultural anthropologists into the role of myths in traditional religions. Scripture and theological studies have benefited from this rediscovery of the role of myth in society.3 Myth is recognized as essentially the way we talk .about our religious encounter with God and with the spiritual world. "Unlike historical or abstract truth," writes Avery Dulles, "mys-tery cannot be described or positively defined. It can only be evoked."' The use of symbols and mythical language is crucial for the evoking of mystery. The role of myths in the revitalization of a religious congregation is also acknowledged. For example, in a recent significant reflection on the 14 Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life future of religious life it is said that "Central to the project of revitalization is the need to deepen the mythic roots of one's own life and those of one's community. ''~ But the nature of myths and their precise function in revitalization is poorly researched. This article is an introduc-tory attempt to respond to this paucity of research into the function of myths within religious-life revitalization. I will aim -- to clarify the nature and types of myths and the ways in which they are interpreted especially by cultural anthropologists; -- to reflect on the role of myths for religious-life revitalization and refounding. Myths, Truth and History Anthropologically a myth is a type of narrative which seeks to express in an imaginative or symbolic form a belief about the human person or culture, the world or deity, which cannot adequately be expressed in ordi-nary language. Myths reveal the "meaning and significance of spiritual reality, and how it interpenetrates and affects the familiar physical world. ,,6 Myths are concerned about the meaning of human existence at the deepest possible level, about the problems of evil, the source of crea-tion or how chaos became cosmos, the origins of different cultures. By mythically defining and structuring the world, the human person is able to grasp to some degree or other the regions beyond human control which deeply influence well-being and destiny. Like sacred icons, myths are the "medium of revelation rather than of man's self-expression . They are accepted., as handed down from the gods themselves.''7 Sometimes individuals, e.g., Old Testament prophets, are seen as the agents of the revelations of the gods in the estab-lishment or revitalization of myths. But the myths remain as the revela-tions of mysteries rather than clever illustrations or didactic entertainments on the part of mere human persons. Like all symbols, myths can evoke deep emotional responses and a sense of mystery in those who accept them, simply because they develop out of the very depths of human experience of birth, life, death. No matter how hard we seek to deepen our grasp of the meaning of myths, they still remain somewhat ambiguous and mysterious because they attempt to articulate what cannot be fully articulated. Myths can maintain their influence even though people do not con-sciously accept them. Take the first myth of Genesis, the creation story. Most Western peoples, whether they adhere to the Jewish/Christian faith 16/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 or not, accept the myth's conclusions that people are sacred and have inalienable rights. Myths articulate attitudes toward reality. These atti-tudes can maintain a powerful influence on behavior over a long period.8 Myths, then, are about reality. They are efforts to explain what usu-ally is beyond empirical observation and to some degree or other outside human experience. They speak of reality and experience other than the physical world. This is an important point that needs to be understood if confusion is to be avoided. Myth and empirical truth do not contradict one another. Myths, remember, reveal truths that cannot be grasped through empirical observation. Likewise myth and history do not contradict each other. Each relates to facts from its own standpoint; history observes facts from the "outer physical side, myth from the inner spiritual side. ,9 It can happen that the symbols used to express an inner meaning or truth about life are histor-ically untrue. For example, in the Genesis story we are t01d the vital truth that God created the world. The symbols used, e.g., the number of days for creation, are not all necessarily historically true. But the myth in this case is not out to tell about an event with total historical accuracy. That is not its purpose. Sometimes a myth is totally false historically, even though it is described as though it were an historical event, e.g., the story of Job, Noah's ark. Recall the key insight: myths are out to reveal truths that'mere human observation itself cannot grasp. All kinds of symbols are used to express these truths. Myths sometimes include actual historical events but in order to give them special significance. For example, in Disneyland, Los Angeles, Abraham Lincoln is brilliantly re-presented in the Main Street Opera House, delivering a speech on liberty~ An actual historical event is portrayed. But the props used are not historical, e.g., the dramatic use of lights, the nobility of the furnishings. But these props are rightly used to convey an atmosphere of reverence for one who is "above the normal human person." Lincoln is now seen to embody key virtues of the nation's founding myth, e.g., respect for liberty, democracy and human dignity. The myth gives an inner meaning to an actual historical event. Lincoln saved the nation because he embodied the virtues on which the nation is built. Interpretation of Myths Commentators generally interpret myths in one of three different ways: functionally, symbolically or structurally. Sometimes authors blend aspects of two or all three ways of interpreting myths. This blending is in-valuable. Myths are too rich to allow only one method of interpretation. Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life / 17 According to the functional way of interpretation, myths justify exist-ing social institutions or ways of doing things,'° People feel a deep need for an authority that transcends rational argument to justify what is happen-ing. The rise of democracy was justified in part by the myth of the "social contract." In Nazi Germany programs of vicious race-hatred were justified in part by a revival of the ancient German mythology of race superiority.'~ Symbolic interpretations assume that mythology is a poetic way of com-municating; the meanings of myths are to be found beneath the surfaces of stories. Carl Jung, Sigmund Freud and their followers support this form of interpretation. Jung believes that "the primitive mentality does not invent myths, it experiences them.''~2 There is a "collective uncon-scious," the psychic background which is common to all people, though at the same time supra-personal. There are archetypes, "forms or images of a collective nature," which are active in every mind, remnants of "his-torical mental states" which have been transmitted by traditions, migrations and heredity. These archetypes are identical with the themes of myths. Jung concludes that myths are not charters to legitimate cul-tural institutions, but psychological realities or expressions of the archetypes or primordial images of the collective unconscious. They rep-resent inherited forms present in every human person. Myths give a "local habitation and a name" to these general forms and give them "real-ity" by revealing them to the consciousness. Anthropologists, however, criticize Jung for treating myth as an irreducible mental property.'3 His explanation of myth "denies to culture any formative role in its symbol-ism.'"' For Freud and his followers myth is a type of daydream. It uses the symbolism of dreams articulating unconscious desires and conflicts. But the likening of myth to a daydream does not explain why people build myths in preference to just any daydream and why the sharing of myths is a significant social and cultural fact.'S As w~th Jung, Freudians fail to acknowledge the cultural influences in the evolution of myths. The source of myth for them is far too much dependent on the individual.~6 Many contemporary anthropologists approach the analysis of myths from a symbolic point of view. They claim however that the meanings of symbols are strongly influenced by cultural, rather than individual, experiences. The structural interpretation of myths is a rather recent development. A myth is broken into its different parts, its incidents and motifs, and the interpreter reflects on the ways in which they are interrelated. The aim is to uncover the underlying structure of a myth like a cross-section of the Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 geological strata beneath a landscape. The significance is not sought in the narrative but rather in the arrangement of the underlying strata. One structural pattern common in myths is the interplay of opposites and their resolution. For example the present state of things is the opposite of what was "in the beginning.'''7 In the Genesis story of the fall, Adam and Eve (and their descendants) must work hard to survive. Not so in the begin-ning. In a later myth the opposition will be resolved: "The wolf shall be ¯ a guest of the lamb .The baby shall play by the cobra's den"(Is 1 1: 6,8). A leading structuralist, anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss, sees in myths "the emergence of a logic operating by means of binary oppositions and coinciding with the first manifestations of symbolism."'8 One of the prime functions of myth is to reconcile apparent contradictions in cultural life. Anthropologist Victor Turner has a quasi-structuralist approach to myth. Myths are for him liminal phenomena; they are recounted fre-quently at a time or in a state that is "betwixt and between," that is, when people are confused or without their traditional cultural supports. Myths recount a period in which the uncertainties and tensions of being in a state of confusion do not exist.'9 For example, the psalmist in the midst of desolation turns to the mythical expression of the Lord's great-ness and concern for Israel. The recounting of this myth gives him con-solation: "I remember the deeds of the Lord; yes I remember your won-ders of old . You led your people like a flock under the care of Moses and Aaron" (Ps 77:12,21). I will return to this insight later. Types of Myths Creation and Regeneration Myths Here are several relevant types of myths: While all cultures have specific myths through which they respond to questions of identity or behavior, it is in their creation myths that the most basic answers are to be found. Not only are creation myths the most all-embracing of mythic proclamations, addressing themselves to the widest range of questions of meaning, but they are also the most pro-found. Take, for example, the New Zealand Maori myth of creation, a myth that is extraordinarily dramatic and rich in language. Being- Itself evolves "from the conception" through thought, spirit and matter to the great peak, the "blaze of day from the sky. ,20 Creation myths like this speak about first causes; in them people express their primary understanding of mankind, the world, time and space. Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life By way of summary,2~ many old creation myths place an absolute real-ity as the very foundation of all life. This reality is both transcendent, i.e., true for all times and places, and immanent, i.e., true in the here and now. To be both transcendent and immanent, the reality is believed to be eternal. While this absolute reality, in whatever way it is defined, is behind all myths, it is most obviously so in strict creation myths. These myths are concerned about the relation of the known to the unknowable, e.g., in the Genesis myth the relation between the world and God. Often the original reality out of which the Absolute created the world is consid-ered divine chaos. It is a chaos out of which order and dis-order can develop. Rather than being "something" negative, chaos is vigorously positive inasmuch as order can emerge from it. Anthropologist Mircea Eliade believes that there is a creation dimen-sion behind every kind of myth. Myth, he says, "is always the recital of a creation; it tells how something was accomplished, began to be. It is for this reason that myth is bound up with ontology; it speaks of realities, ~ ,~22 of what really nappeneu. For him "reality" means "sacred reality." And the sacred reality belongs to sacred time, the time when creation took place. In profane time people carry on the ordinary business of daily living. It is sacred time. which gives meaning to life; sacred time breaks into people's lives through rituals in which people re-enact, re-live the holy or the original creation, their emergence out of chaos. In short they relive the founding myths of their cultures. The reliving of the founding myth is called a regeneration ritual. It is particularly relevant when a people's cultural identity seems to be falling into chaos or is threatened with chaos. People feel the need to relive their original founding, and thus win back their identity. Regeneration rituals are not commemorative. They are always founda-tional or re-creative in their demands on people. That is, people are expected to undergo a deep interior and exterior change or revitalization; they must experience a new creation out of chaos. They are to be passive and active in the presence of the revealing absolute.2~ To use Eliade's lan-guage, in regeneration rituals sacred time breaks into profane time. Sacred time is ritual time, the brief transcendence through festival. It con-sists of those rites in which people re-enact the holy, aboriginal events of their culture. The escape into sacred time intimates immortality, a rescue in any case from the meaningless. Charter Myths These myths legitimate actions in the present or in the future. For example, people who are influenced by the Genesis myth of creation feel 20/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 legitimated in their work of dominating nature.2' The American political system of checks and balances is legitimated in the Constitution myth. Identity Myths These myths, intimately related to creation myths, provide individuals and cultures with a sense of belonging. The Old Testament is filled with myths that give identity to the Israelites, e.g., the Exodus narrative. In identity myths there are often heroes, including historical figures, who symbolize this identity and whose lives indicate how this identity is to be achieved or restored, e.g., Old Testament prophets, Abraham Lincoln, J. E Kennedy. Eschatological Myths These are myths about the end of an age or the end of time. They speak about key issues of life, death and resurrection, future rewards and punishments, even an apocalyptic ihsight into a future age of peace and plenty.~ These myths often tell of a former age of peace and contentment that was lost but is to be restored if people act rightly. They are the driv-ing force behind the way people live their morality and institute revolu-tionary movements. Communism offers its golden age of the classless soci-ety, one to be shared by those who battle against oppressors. The col-lective champion, or culture hero, in this myth is the proletariat which struggles against and, eventually overcomes, the bourgeoisie. Dominant, Supportive and Directional Myths In the narrative story of a people, different myths may be intercon-nected into what is called a mythology. Generally, one myth will stand out over the others in the mythology. This is called a dominant myth. The other myths complement or support this dominant myth. Some myths, called directional myths, indicate how the foundational or creation myth is to be lived out. The written American Constitution, which established the political system, could be considered a directional myth. Myth Management New myths are created and old myths are maintained in existence, are constantly revised or die out because of a variety and flow of forces, changing needs and new perceptions. We call the creation, revision or disappearance of myths myth management. Myth management occurs through such processes as myth extension, substitution, drift and revitaliza-tion. We will briefly examine each of these processes. Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life/91 Myth Extension When people ransack the past to find legitimation for the present, there is myth extension. For example, American politicians are apt to quote great politicians of the past, or other cultural heroes, in order to legitimate what they are saying about the present situation. In the process of extension the myth is applied to new needs. Sometimes revision or extension occurs if only the meaning of the specific myths, not the words themselves, is changed. The American foundational myth -- which includes the "revelation" that "all men are created equal," -- for exam-ple -- is still vigorous, even though we have come to include blacks and all women in an originally very restrictive assertion. Although the mean-ing of the myth is much extended, the "fact" of equality is still consid-ered to be unchallenged. Notice that the community itself is involved in one way or another in revising or extending the myth's meanings or emphases. Myth Substitution Myth substitution is a difficult and often painful process. Marxist Rus-sian leaders seek to manipulate their people, often under the threat of violence, by inventing new myths to legitimate their power and suprem-acy. 26 Sometimes a new myth becomes acceptable through a process of education, persuasion and example. Paul VI deliberately used ritual experi-ences to help people grasp Vatican II mythology. For example, in order to stress the servant role of the papacy he put aside the use of the regal tiara. For his funeral he willed that he be buried in a simple wooden casket. Myth Drift Drift occurs when myths change, degenerate or disappear without deliberate planning on the part of individuals or groups. Fairy tales and legends are sometimes secularized myths; they have lost their original sacredness because over time they have ceased to be important to people in answering key questions about life and its meaning. In our contemporary world there is a strong tendency to equate "literal-ness" with "truth." When this happens the power of myths is undermined. For example, if the metaphor referring to the ascension of Jesus to the Father is taken literally in spatial terms, then God is assumed to be resident in space, at a certain height in the atmosphere. Once this literal interpretation is brought into question, however, the danger is that the inner meaning of the myth is also called into question. But the reli-gious symbols of myth cannot be reduced to purely factual or intellectual 22/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 terms. Truth is bigger than what can be empirically analyzed.27 Sometimes the dominant myth is distorted because a secondary or directional myth assumes an exaggerated position. This has happened to the Genesis creation myth. Extreme capitalism with its emphasis on indi-vidualism displaces the original stress in the mytl~ on our responsibility to be co-creators with God in this world. Social consciousness thus is downplayed in what has become a distorted myth. Marxism, with its stress on the future communist golden age, is a secularization and vulgarization of the same creation myth; for, remove God and individual dignity is unprotected.28 One of the most powerful barriers to an understanding of myth, and it~ survival, is the fact that people may no longer share the kind of faith which had originally given rise to it. As T. Fawcett says, "The myths embody a religious outlook on the world. If this is not shared by one who seeks to interpret the myths, there is at least a strong possibility of misunderstanding. Myth Revitalization Myths can articulate "how chaos became cosmos.''3° When a people or culture is threatened with chaos or experiences chaos it feels the urge to rediscover the original creation myth, to relive it. Iri the reliving of the myth, it seeks once more to achieve identity and self-worth. Take the example of the American foundation myth. This myth exalted the potential of the human person to grow in strength and human perfection. During the late 1960s and 1970s the nation experienced cultural turmoil. Antiheroes abounded: people burned the sacred flag, presidents failed to live up to the American spirit of pride in the nation's prestige, the nation suffered a disastrous war in Vietnam and was humiliated in Iran. There was needed, said Time, "a reassertion of man as shaper of the world rather than the '70s model as victim or passive partner.''3~ The 1984 Olympics at Los Angeles gave many Americans the chance to relive their founding myth: "The belief was reborn that Americans can do, well, any-thing."~ 2 There were other events also: "It was a year of ceremonies . Some of the rites played a kind of sacramental role., conferring a heal-ing reassurance."~ And there were cultural heroes: the organizer of the Olympic Games, the participants themselves, thecountry's actor-president. Notice the key factors in revitalization: a feeling of chaos/confusion, the emergence of cultural heroes in touch with creation roots and the will-ingness of people to participate in the reliving or reappropriation of the founding myth. The myth can be updated, distorted or purified in the pro-cess. Stallone in Rambo and Rocky is, an updating of the American mythic Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life hero; he is the modem cowboy, now dressed for contemporary deeds. In light of the Gospel, and indeed of the creation myth of America itself, this updated mythic hero is a moral distortion of what the hero should be because of the senseless use of violence .34 Notice, finally, that for revitalization to occur the myth should come alive in new symbols, e.g., in the American case, the "Games Extrava-ganza." If this does not happen, then the supposed revitalization is a regressive and fundamentalist movement, such as happened in the Iranian revolution. There is a failure to adjust to the realities of change. Summary: Key Anthropological Points in Myths Despite the divergent approaches to the study of myths, there are important points of agreement among anthropologists. Here are some of them: Myths Are Symbolic Revelations of Truths A symbol is any reality that by its very dynamism leads to another deeper reality through a sharing in the dynamism that the symbol itself offers. Symbols speak not just to the intellect, but more especially to the heart, to the feelings. Symbols arouse strong emotional responses. The one symbol can contain many meanings at the same time, even contrary meanings, e.g., the cross connotes both death and resurrection. ' Symbols do not just point to the things signified (as simple signs do), but they truly represent them. This is why symbols operate at the level of metaphor, not of simile. The metaphor articulates not merely a like-ness, but an identity. Such a metaphor insists on being taken seriously at a very deep level, that of personal commitment. So a myth, expressed in metaphorical symbolism, demands that people identify with its inner mes-sage and accept the consequences in action of this inner conversion.~5 Within each myth one metaphor will pred6minate over others. This metaphor is called the root metaphor, e.g., in the Way of the Cross, Christ is the root metaphor, while the persons of Mary and Veronica are complementary or supportive metaphors in the narrative.~ Creation Myths Speak of Chaos Creation myths are the most universal kind of myth. They tell us why humans suffer and die, how they establish and maintain social cohesion, how they relate to absolute reality. In many myths an original chaos is depicted, but a chaos that has potential for creativity. In the Judaeo- Christian tradition, the absolute reality is God. When people experience intense confusion, they are apt to experience themselves as reinserted into 24/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 that original chaos. The retelling of the myth can give them new energy, new hope. Myths, History and Doctrines Are to Be Distinguished A myth is not some kind of mixed-up history. It tells what occurred not in profane or ordinary time, but in the beginning, in sacred time, i.e., in the period of the gods or the creators of the world. It is an account of a primordial event that gives meaning to reality, telling why it came into existence and why it continues to exist. History deals With another type of reality altogether, i.e., the observable world. Historical analysis is invaluable in helping people dis-cover how local history has affected the interpretation of myths. History, however, cannot evaluate the authenticity of the inner meaning of a myth. Special evaluative principles, e.g., from theology or Church magisterium in relating to Christian mythology, are needed to authenticate a myth's meaning. The aim of a myth is to communicate a profound truth in the form of a story. Religious myth achieves a kind of revelatory character through this truth, by uncovering something of universal validity about the nature of life and reality. Neither are myths equivalent to doctrines, though they are both ways of interpreting religious experiences. Doctrines generally use philosoph-ical language to express meanings, whereas myths use highly symbolic language. Myths complement doctrines; they help provide insight into the more abstract content of doctrines.37 Mythical Archetypes and Ritual Assume Conversion Anthropologist Bronislaw Malinowski asserts that myth "is not merely a story told but a reality lived." It is "not an idle tale, but a hard-worked active force.''~ Eliade believes myth is a "sacred history" and hence "saturated with being . . . and power. ,,39 Both authors, experts in the study of myth, are speaking of the "eternal" relevance and dynamism of myths for those who accept them. What does this mean? In all cultures there are some forms of repeated symbolic behavior that are tied by explanatory verbalization to their basic ways of understand-ing human existence. The repeated symbolic behavior is called ritual. The explanatory verbalization is myth. The myth sets out what should be; it .is the archetypal directive to a group of people. In ritual, people "own" or interiorize that directive; ritual provides a way of participating in the myth experience. The key word is archetypal. The Absolute -- in whatever way it is defined -- is immanent as well as transcendent in every creation myth. That is,the Absolute is here as well as everywhere; it is now as well as always. Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life The Absolute achieves transcendence and immanence through arche-types; they give shape and form to this or that. Archetypes are always valid, never change, because they are the Absolute and belong to sacred time. Archetypes break into profane time through ritual, giving people the chance to experience sacred time. Jesus, the archetype, rises from the tomb and transcends his relativity at all times. But he is with us now as he was with those who saw him on the first Easter Day.'° This is a key insight especially into creation myths. The archetype is not a prototype. The latter connotes the first of a line; the prototype may or may not con-tinue to influence subsequent events. But the archetype has universal application; it is timeless, it guarantees authenticity, it is the re-presentation of the Absolute of the myth in the here and now. Adam has relevance to us, not just because he is considered the first man, i.e., prototype, but because he represents the essential man, i.e., an archetype. His original sin is therefore ours. It is inherent in the human condition. We inherit the sin to the degree that we inherit our humanity. This is what is meant when we say that a myth is an active force or is saturated with power. For that power or active force to have an effect, people must acknowl-edge its existence; they must own it. For this to occur there needs to be a conversion to the reality of the myth. It is to accept the reality and force of sacred time within our lives. We allow the transcendent Absolute to become immanent, i.e., to take over our lives through the myth. II My task now is to illustrate how this analysis of myth can help us to grasp in more depth what is meant when we, as religious, are called "to deepen the mythic roots of one's own life and those of one's com-munity." The "Creation Myth" of Religious Life We believe as Christians that the Absolute in the Genesis creation myth is God himself, and that Jesus is the Absolute in the redemption myth of the Gospel. We come to these insights through the power and the presence of the Holy Spirit: "The Spirit we have received is not the world's spirit but God's Spirit, helping us to recognize the gifts he has given us" (l Co 2:12). The life, suffering, death and resurrection of Jesus constitute the Re-creation Myth; through Jesus we have a more pro- 42 found understanding of God and his designs for us. The Christian "locks in" on the Re-creation Myth by accepting the 26/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 same mission that the Father gave the Son, the mission to go out and bring the Good News to all. The call by the Father to mission with the Son constitutes the creation myth of religious life. While all Christian people are committed to evangelical perfection and mission with the Son, religious for their part publicly commit them-selves in faith to be unconditional in their response to the Father's call, in their love of him and of members of their own communities, his Church, and the world he wants to be saved. They openly commit them-selves not to this or that particular demand of the Lord at this or that par-ticular time and place but to be totally available, as other Christs, for the Father's work. They strive to take seriously always the command of the Lord: "Be converted and believe in the Good News"(Mk 1:15). This requires of religious an enduring identification with Christ, an act of love, that should govern all their actions. This describes the identification myth of religious. Religious are drawn by the power of the eschatological myth also, that is, the myth of the 'promise of "new heavens and a new earth where., the justice of God will reside"(2 Pt 3:13). They seek to reveal this new world of justice and love now, that through their example others maydiscover the saving power of the Lord, his mercy and compassion.'3 The commitment through the vows logically flows from the ear-nestness of t:eligious to be available to the Lord and to his Church. Vows place the person at the service of mission; they give religious more free-dom to be totally at the service of the Lord's mission. J. Tillard notes that the vows form a supportive myth. When they are seen as the dominant myth in religious life, religious tend to become inward-looking and hesitant in serving the needs of an ever changing world: One becomes a religious for the sake of the Gospel, not strictly for the . sake of the three classical vows. Although the vows represent elements that are specific to the religious life and therefore indispensable to who-ever feels called to that life by the Holy Spirit, they are not the primary elements in the concrete life of grace of the religious." This was recognized in practice by the Church for centuries; the custom of the now traditional three religious vows comes only from the 45 turn of the twelfth century. As religious commit themselves to be in the forefront of revealing the mythical mYstery of the Lord's redemptive love for the world, the Church rightly expects of them a creative dynamism in searching out new and better ways of preaching this message. Religious, then, are to be special-ists in pastoral innovation, in giving ritual flesh to the myths that motivate them. This charismatic character of religious life ,as being open to the Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life / "2"1 Spirit in mission we can refer to as its directional myth. It indicates the how of living out religious life. Theologian Johannes Metz says that religious are to be a kind of shock therapy instituted by the Holy Spirit for the Church as a whole. Against the dangerous accommodations and questionable com-promises that the Church as a large-scale institution can always incline to, they press for the uncompromising nature of the Gospel and of the imitation of Christ. In this sense they are the institutionalized form of a dangerous memory within the Church.'6 Once religious cease to be a dangerous memory within the Church, or once they stop being creatively responsive to the needs of the Church, they cease to be identified with the distinguishing mythology of religious life. Ultimately identification with Christ the Redemptive Myth comes through faith, nourished in prayer. The day-to-day struggle of the reli-gious to be uncompromising in mission will at times fill him or her with "fear and distress" such as Jesus experienced in the garden before his passion, for "the spirit is willing but nature is weak"(Mk 14:34,38). Their fervent prayer is: "My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass me by. Still, let it be as you would have it,,not as I"(Mt 26:39). Zeal with-out prayer cannot survive. In prayer we discover the precipitous depths of our own poverty on the one hand, and the saving presence of Jesus the Myth on the other. With him we speak confidently for strength to the Father. The Mythology of Religious Congregations Individual religious congregations exist in the Church because found-ing persons are deeply shocked to see the gap e~isting between the Gospel and the world. They see people who do not know of the mercy and healing power of Christ. They~see even people who have heard of Christ compromise with worldly values. These founding persons recog-nize how the gap between the Gospel and the woi'ld Can be bridged through particular apostolic strategies. So they act. Inspired by the Holy Spirit, they invite others to join them in living out their new vision. Thus the seeds are sown for a new religious congrega-tion to emerge. Each congregation, then, has its own distinctive mythology--its crea-tion, identity, .directional myths. The myth-maker is the founding person in cooperation with the Holy Spirit. The root metaphor or symbol in the dominant myth will be the particular aspect of the redemptive myth of Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 Christ that is seen to be especially applicable at a particular time and place in the Church's life, e.g., the poverty of Christ, Christ as evangelizer. A religious congregation, when it is true to its mythology, is a medium of God's revealing and redeeming presence in the world. The fervor of the original congregational creation myth, as history shows, is very rarely sustained.'7 Our analysis of myth management helps us to understand how this winding down of enthusiasm occurs. Through a process of "myth drift" religious congregations can, even without realiz-ing it, accommodate their apostolic work and way of living too much to ambient secular values and customs. They neglect the uncompromising nature of the original myth. In the Middle Ages the Benedictines in Europe went into decline. "No one [any longer] looked to them for new ideas or new forms of spir-itual life," comments historian Richard Southern. "Rather they looked to them for stability, pageantry, involvement in the aristocratic life of the upper classes."4~ Gone was the inner commitment to the founding myth of creative obedience through a vigorous spirit of self-abnegation. They became lost in maintenance and forgot mission! Historian David Knowles, reflecting on the decline of the quality of the lives of monks, religious and clergy in the early Tudor period in England, comments: "Monks and clergy alike were children of their age and country; it was this that made the Dissolution [of the monasteries under Henry VIII], and indeed many of the religious changes of the reign, not only possible but relatively easy of accomplishment. ,,9 They had become accommodated so comfortably to the worldly values of the time that they were indistinguishable from the people they claimed to serve. Through the neglect of their founding mythology, religious had drifted to a point of spiritual and innovative enfeeblement. Their extinc-tion was then inevitable, even if Henry VIII had not himself acted with such speed. Sometimes a secondary or directional myth can be substituted for the creation and/or identity myths as a result of unchecked drift on the part of the religious congregation. For example, a congregation established for the pastoral needs of the poor through education services found itself eventually running schools only for the well-to-do. Members of the congre-gation "justified" this movement away from the poor on the grounds that the institute was founded "for education through schools." The mythology of the congregation was being misread. Concern for the poor belonged to the creation and identity myths; the establishment of schools pertained only to a directional myth. The congregation had definitely moved away from its mythical roots. Raymond Hostie believes that a myth substitution through the imposi- Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life tion of a semimonastic model of religious life affected many congrega-tions of both men ahd women founded in the two centuries prior to Vatican II. In its defense against the effects of the Reformation and an emerging secularism, the Church turned in on itself. Its "narcissistic pre-occupation," as Avery Dulles phrases it,~° discouraged experimentation. Congregations certainly grew numerically and spread geographically. But the creative insights of founding persons, which should have led to rad-ically new forms of religious-life witness and pastoral action, were unable to be realized. It is not surprising, therefore, that the models of religious life in non-European lands even now remain Western.~' In the period fol-lowing upon Vatican II, religious life inculturation is a slow and very hes-itant process. Case Study of a Mythology: The Marists In this case study I will first describe the mythology system of a particular religious congregation; then I will summarize what has hap-pened to this mythology after the congregation was formally approved. Aspects of the above analysis will be highlighted in the case study. Mythology of the Society of Mary The Society of Mary (Marist Fathers and Brothers) was founded by Father John C. Colin in Lyons, France, and formally approved in 1836. Its aim is to carry on Mary's work in the world. "She is," he writes, "the refuge, the defense, the support, the advocate . the recourse of the militant Church." The creation (and dominant) myth reveals Mary as sup-porting the apostles at Pentecost or at the beginning of the Church, but with an added dimension. That support is to be continued now in and through Marists and other people committed to her seryice. She is recorded as saying: "I upheld the Church at its birth; I shall do so again at the end of time." Mary herself, through the Holy Spirit, decides to found a congregation which is to take her name. Her human instrument in this founding, according to Fr. Colin, is Fr. Colin himself. She remains the first and perpetual superior of the congregation, which is itself committed to be her presence within the Church "at the end of time." The root metaphor is Mary herself, Mother of Mercy. And it is from this metaphor that Marists receive their identity. Marists are to "be Mary" to the world; they are to think, judge and act as Mary does. So they are to be instruments of the Divine Mercy. There are several directional myths indicating how Marists are to be Mary as the support of the Church. As instruments of Divine Mercy, 30/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 Marists are to stress qualities of forgiveness, tenderness, compassion. A second direction myth is summarized in the phrase "hidden and unknowns" In the early Church Mary acted quietly, aiming all the time to inspire people to grow in Christ. So also Marists are to encourage people to develop their own gifts in the Lord. Hence, Marists must be prepared to withdraw from involvement as those they serve discover their own potential for self-growth. A powerful symbol of this action-principle, "hidden and unknown," is Nazareth. No one can act in a hidden, self-effacing way, unless he or she has the humility, the detach-ment that comes from deep union with Christ in prayer. Nazareth sym-bolizes these key virtues. Only through these virtues will a Marist avoid selfishness and the desire for power that are obstacles which would obstruct Mary's work in the Church. To be Pentecost people, Marists must be firmly rooted in the contemplative virtues of Nazareth. A further directional myth is devotion to learning. Marists are to be concerned for any kind of learning that would make them better instru-ments of the Divine Mercy. There is also a vigorous eschatological myth within the Marist mythology. "The Society of Mary," declares its founder, "must begin a new Church over again." By this he means not an arrogant claim to reform, but rather a challenge to "re-create the faith of the first believ-ers." As the early believers were of one mind and one heart, so there will be the same kind of communion in the fullness of Christ's kingdom. By living in one mind and in one heart, Marists will help transform the Church, aiding it to be now what the world will be in the perfection of the kingdom to come. This eschatological myth affected the founder's vision of how Marists are to relate to lay people and to worldly symbols of power. Colin had the vision of a family, a family of Mary, in which there would also be lay people who commit themselves to be Mary to the world in which they live. Because he stressed the notion of Mary's family, Colin reacted to the evils of clericalism and attachment to worldly distinctions. On the practical level, therefore, Marist brothers and priests are to live together without distinction, showing to a world in which distinctions and unequal differences of lifestyles are commonplace that such behavior patterns are foreign to the kingdom that is to come. The particular object of Marist apostolic concern is those who are the most abandoned, the "little people" of this world, those with whom no one else is involved. The concern for the "little people" belongs to th.e identity myth ofthe congregation. Anthropologist Levi-Strauss speaks of "binary oppositions" within Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life myths. Such oppositions exist in Marist mythology. And they are dialectical in quality or tension: Pentecost versus Nazareth, identification with the local Church versus commitment to the more universalist reli-gious life, with its freedom and identity. Take the latter tension. Colin says that bishops must consider Marists "as if they were their own men." On the other hand he insists in word and action on areas of independence from bishops. How are the two to be reconciled? As in all myths, no detailed instructions are given on how such tensions are to be reconciled in practice. It is assumed that their res-olution is possible only through people identifying thoroughly with the mythology. Marists in a spirit of faith will discover how the tensions are to be worked out in reality, thus revealing that people can live together with one heart and one mind. In summary, Colin founded a congregation committed, through its stress on Pentecost, to a service within the Church that is pastorally cre-ative, mobile and flexible, depending on the priority of need. He strongly detested any apostolate that would prevent the congregation from acting according to these qualities. Hence only in very exceptional conditions did he allow Marists to staff parishes. He feared that parishes would pre-vent Marists from being available for works of greater need. Colin believed that the nineteenth century had ushered in the age of Mary. He felt chaos on all sides, both in the civil and in the ecclesiastical spheres. Mary established her congregation to be one instrument of mercy to people caught in this chaos. To respond adequately to this challenge, Marists must possess the creativity of Pentecost and the hidden, contemplative virtues of Nazareth. Implementation of Marist Mythology: Myth Management Did Colin's dream of Pentecostal creativity take place in the congrega-tion he founded.'? For a variety of reasons, the actual interiorization and living out of Marist mythology (as revealed through Colin) up to Vatican II have been very hesitant indeed. Certainly, as with many other congrega-tions founded in France in the nineteenth century, the institute expanded numerically and geographically at great speed. Marists, with extraordi-nary courage and faith, left for remote and dangerous mission fields. The congregation has loyally served local Churches wherever it has been estab-lished. But, as with many other congregations over the last two hundred years, the institute has rarely shown any above-average pastoral creativ-ity, mobility or flexibility--at least if we take the founder's Pentecost met-aphor as the measure of analysies. Powerful internal and external factors militated against the type of pastoral and religious-life creativity that 32/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 could have been expected to have emerged out of the founding charism. Internally, myth management through substitution and drift par-ticularly dulled the impact of the founding charism. The founder's suc-cessor as superior general had not adequately interiorized the founding mythology. He had a far less exalted vision of what the congregation should be. Hence he proceeded to impose his own mythology on the young congregation. He believed the congregation should be nothing more than a pious association of dedicated people. The founder later had his own vision concretized into approved constitutions. But in practice the institute rarely lived the rich insights of the creation ,and dominant myths. What was a directional myth -- the Nazareth symbol -- became instead the dominant myth. instead of the Nazareth myth ("hidden and unknown") remaining as an action-principle, that is, indicating how Marists are to act apostolically, it became an end in itself. Now Marists were to do nothing apostolically that would in any way attract attention to themselves. This was a tragic distortion. It legitimated mediocrity and dullness. It reinforced the already existing nineteenth-century image of religious life, namely, that it be semimonastic in structure, inward-looking and a vigorous supporter of the status quo. The distortion also effectively killed another key directional myth, namely, the concern that the founder had for learning as an essential means for the living out of the creation myth. Few people were encour-aged to research and publish their findings for fear that they would draw attention to the congregation and to themselves. Inevitably the distortion influenced the initial formation programs of the institute, so that it thus became perpetuated from generation to generation. The overall failure of the congregation to grasp the founder's insights is evident in a review of the general and provincial chapter decrees or legislation from the 1870s to Vatican II. For example, the 1873 general chapter of the Marists established the aims of the provincial chapters: to promote religious discipline according to the Rule and to inquire into the financial administration of houses. No mention was made of the need to. foster new forms of religious-life witness or pastoral action. The 1893 pro-vincial chapter of one of the provinces directed that "Religious [includ-ing pastors] were° prohibited from going out after the evening meal for unnecessary visits." The assumption was that a Marist house is a quasi, monastery; people should respect this, and anyone in need pastorally should be discouraged from approaching Marists "after the evening meal," unless in exceptional circumstances. An examination of provincial visitation reports reflects the same con- Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life cern for the maintenance of religious discipline and respect for the Rule, but again no interest in the evaluation of pastoral effectiveness or creativ-ity. For example, just prior to the Japanese invasion of Ne~v Guinea in World War II, a provincial reported on the state of Marists in a particu-larly difficult section of that country: "The fathers, in spite of their pov-erty, must wear socks when saying Mass and be dressed decently, as respectable clergymen ought to be when appearing in public." Nothing was said about the enormous pastoral and cultural challenges which con-fronted the men.5' Externally the congregation was affected deeply by the semimonastic view of religious life referred to above. This model provided very little opportunity for the type of creativity envisaged by the original Marist mythology. It was assumed theologically that the world should adapt to the unchanging Church, not vice versa. The curricula of seminaries of this time allowed for little or no room for positive social-science subjects, e.g., sociology, anthropology. These subjects were not seen to be neces: sary for the apostolate. The above analysis is given not to provide reasons to ridicule the past, but to illustrate the historical way in which this particular congrega-tion, along with many others at that time, found difficulties in interiorizing the founder's vision. The analysis also helps to put into per-spective the adaptive efforts of the congregation since Vatican II. In the 1950s, there began within the congregation an historical in-depth analysis of its mythology. Thus the institute was well prepared to take up the challenge of Vatican II that religious should reflect on their founding charisms. The richness of the original insights of the founder were already being exposed. Through the advances in Scripture and the-ology studies, the congregation was able to deepen yet further its grasp of the meanings of its myths. Thus, through a process of myth extension, it became possible for the congregation to embrace insights unknown at the time of the founder, e.g., insights into Mary as a s~ymbol within the Church, the role of the local Church, confirmation about the creative role of religious life. Marists were now exposed to a mythology that was denied many previ-ous generations. Little wonder that the comment is made today that the congregation, having rediscovered its original mythology, is set for refounding. Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life Religious congregations today are experiencing chaos.5~ Twenty years after Vatican II, despite renewal chapters, surveys, renewal programs, 34/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 congregations remain confused. Recruitment is poor, entrants even nonex-istent in many instances. The average age of religious rises alarmingly. Unless the present trend is checked, extinction for many institutes seems inevitable. Yet, as history shows, this experience of chaos is a potentially cre-ative atmosphere for religious-life growth. New religious congregations have generally emerged not so much when the Church was flourishing, but rather when it was profoundly disoriented and uncertain of itself. The Church is disoriented and unsure of itself at this moment. Hence the urgency to look more .closely at the creative possibilities of the chaos we are experiencing. In the Book of Jeremiah we have an insight into the positive dimen-sion of chaos. Yahweh informs Jeremiah what he expects of him: "See, I place my words in your mouth!. To root up and to tear down, to destroy and to demolish, to build and to plant"(1:10). Before there can be life again among the Israelites, all their securities, their apparently eternally valid ways of acting, must be destroyed and pulled down. The people will feel lost and disoriented. They will look for the consoling help of Yahweh. Then they will realize that they have become too com-placent about life and their institutions: they must again become pilgrims. The message of the book remains highly relevant. We religious are a pilgrim people. There Jan be no permanent security, whether in ideology, apostolates, buildings, ritual ancestry, history, except what comes from our trust in God. While we relate to the past and our roots, we are to be open to the future in constantly changing ways. People tend to react to chaos in one of two possible ways: negatively or positively. When people deny that chaos exists they act negatively. Jesus often reminds the Pharisees and Scribes that they are denying the chaos and confusion within them. He condemns them for distorting the founding myth of the nation. Within their hearts there is but chaos and confusion, and they will not admit it: "You cleanse the outside of cup and dish, but within you are filled with rapaciousness and evil . You are like hidden tombs over which men walk unawares" (Lk 11:39,44). People can refuse to accept the challenge of chaos by attempting to escape into the past. They find comfort in a kind of historical romanticism or nostalgia. The past is idealized, and they hope for a restora-tion without change. Such people will not acknowledge the need for interior and exterior adaptation to a changing world. Nostalgia, however, gives only temporary consolation. Eventually reality must be faced if people are to survive. Positively, people can react to chaos when they acknowledge their Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life total dependence on God and enter into a reconversion process. Reconverted, these people live with new and zealous lives of justice and love in Yahweh's service. Often in the Old Testament the longing for con-version grows out of a deep sense of sin, suffering, and frustration, result-ing from an experience of disorientation. All these agonies of soul are cou-pled with prayers for mercy, forgiveness, and for yet another chance to begin all over again: -"A clean heart create for me, O God, and a stead-fast spirit renew within me . I will teach transgressors your ways, and sinners will return to you."(Ps 51:12,15). In the midst of chaos the reconverted Israelites retell, and relive, the nation's 9reation myth, e.g., "Aloud to God I cry;o.on the day of my distress I seek the Lord . I remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I remember your wonders of old. And I meditate on your works; your exploits I ponder."(Ps 75:2,3,12,13). Through his recital of the foundation myth the psalmist gains hope, but only on condition that he hir~self is in deep union with Yahweh through reconversion in faith. Faith's hope and reconversion are integral. The archetype of the creation myth is: God saves a humble and con-trite people who cry out for help. When the Israelite is humbly, contrite and cries from the depths for help, the myth is once more revitalized. So also in the New Testament. There are eight occasions in the gospels on which Jesus says "Your faith has saved you," or equivalent words, e.g., the blind man (Mk 10:52, Lk 18:42). In all eight examples there are three characteristics: first, there is a situation of critical need; second, this need is expressed in some action or statement that clearly costs much; third, there is a clear sign that the petitioner abandons himself or herself uncondi-tionally to the will of Jesus. In Gethsemane Jesus himself gives an exam-ple of this prayer pattern when he petitions the Father: expression of dire need, action and statement that costs so much, the expression of his total abandonment to the w¯ dl of the Father (Mk 14:32-42). As with the Israelites, as also with Je~sus, we religious are confronted with a dire need: the urgency to abandon our congregation and ourselves to the will of God. He has allowed our securities -- born of our t~:ust in fine buildings and institutions, and of a never ending supply of vocations -- to be destroyed. What is God asking of us now? What is our future? In times of chaos, positively oriented Israelites retold their mythology, especially their creation myth. The act of obedience to Yahweh became the ritualization of their mythology. As for those Israelites, so also for contemporary religious. In the retelling of our congregational mythology, there must be the carrying out of God's will 36/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 in the here-and-now. This is the ritual dimension of mythology. The transcendent power of God becomes immanent in this or that particular action. H~wever, for an authentic retelling of congregational myths, the individual religious need to be involved in three processes: 1. The interpretation of the congregational 'mythology.~ Congregational mythology must b~' purified of all distortions and inau-thentic substitutions that have occurred over time. Purification requires a critical, historical analysis. This should be done with due reference to theology and the relevant documents of the Church. For example, if pas-toral creativity has ceased to be a key directional myth in the congrega-tional, mythology, it is to be restored to its correct position. Or if the mythology does not permit of due consultation by superiors of religious, then a correction is required in line with Vatican II and the New Code. This latter eventuality would be an example of myth extension. Interpretation is a long and difficult task. Not all have the expertise to undertake it. However, all are to be critically acquainted with the results of interpretation through personal and community study/reflection. Expert historians should be available for questioning by the congregation. At some point an official group of the congregation may have to' decide on what should be an interpretation of difficult texts -- especially if it is a question of new constitutions. There are two dangers to be avoided at the interpretation stage. First, religious who are insensitive to the power and necessity of symbols, met-aphors and mythology, may want congregational literature, e.g., con-stitutions, presented "rationally, scientifically, literally." The argument of this entire article is that this cannot be done. An attempt to do so will only distort the founding person's message. Second, no matter how many conferences and learned discussions are held to interpret the founding charism or learn about it, this does not mean that congregational revitalization has occurred or will inevitably take place. Remember, the temptation to escape into historical romanticism or nostalgia through frequent references to the founding person's insights without at the same time being prepared to live out the challenge of his charism in contemporary life is very real indeed. Mere discussion can take on an almost magical note: "The more we discuss, the faster we will find our way out of chaos." Expert interpreters come to be viewed as gurus or congregational magicians: they will lead us to the right and ancient ways of doing .things. I suspect that all too many of us fall victim to this temptation. We fear the internal and exter-nal changes that will have' to be made if we take the role of mythology Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life / 37 as the way out of confusion seriously. Remember, interpretation is only the first stage in congregational revitalization. Reconversion and discernment have yet to occur. 2. The discernment of the mythology's relevance.55 For discernment to take place there must be a reconversion by reli-gious on three levels: personally (and corporately) to Christ, to the mission of the Church and to the congregation's mythology (which assumes a revitalized theology of religious life). The call to reconversion (or, as it is sometimes called, "second con-version") is the call to transcend previous levels of faith and love, to move toward a mature faith which transforms the person from disciple to steward, one prepared to give oneself without reservation to the mission of the Lord.56 St. Paul explains it in this way: "It is not that I have reached it yet, or have already finished my course: but I am racing to grasp the prize if possible since I have been grasped by Christ . I give no thought to what lies behind but push on to what is ahead"(Ph 2:120. The call to reconversion will invariably bring with it the request by Christ to an ever more radical experience of him--in his suffering, his facing of chaos and a sense of abandonment, his complete commitment to the will of the Father, his death -- before there is the "resurrection" of inner clarity as to what the Father wishes. To live as steward for others means we must first die to self: "He died for all so that those who live might live no longer for themselves"(2 Co 5:15). The poorer we are in spirit, the more preparted we are to spot and abandon our prejudices and our yearning for power over others. Freed from such obstacles we are open to see the Lord in others and in the events around us. Without the cross there can be no reconversion. Historian David Knowles, in the last paragraph of his detailed analysis of the causes of the decline of monasticism in England in Tudor times, warns: "When once a religious or a religious order ceases to direct its sons to the abandonment of all that is not of God, and ceases to show them the rigors of the narrow way that leads to the imitation of Christ in his love, it sinks to the level of a purely human institution, and whatever its works may be they are the works of time and not of eternity.''57 The message is that of the Gospel. It is as valid today as it was in the English Tudor times. There is an ecclesial dimension to the reconversion of the religious. Religious congregations exist to serve the Church. And the Church exists to serve the world that .is today in revolutionary change. Any reconversion will involve a recommitment to the mission of the Church in this world. This means listening to what the needs of the world are; it Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 also includes the commitment to be bold in pastoral initiatives in response to these needs. Finally, reconversion involves the radical recommitment to the con-gregational mythology. The individual religious, united with Christ and inspired by the Holy Spirit, experiences the same kind of outrage that the founding person felt when he or she was confronted by the enormity of the chaos separating the Gospel on the one hand and the world in its need on the other. The reappropriation of the founding charism is first and fore-most the reliving of this original shock. The founding person's spirit breaks into our lives the moment we experience that shock. Anthropologist Bronislaw Malinowski justly speaks of myth as "a nar-rative resurrection of a primeval reality."s8 The primeval reality is the shock, the archetype, that belongs to sacred time or the time of the begin-ning that is relived here and now. The converting religious resurrects and relives the sacred time of the beginning once more in all its radicalness. At that point the founding charism lives again. The mythology is alive and active. Like the founding person, some of the reconverting religious will see what strategies are needed to help bridge the chaos. The people who have such gifts of insight and action are in fact re-founding persons, congrega-tional prophets. They should not be viewed as "loners" or "individualists" who lack a sense of community. Despite the very real danger of rejection by other religious, they retain a deep love of the found-ing mythology. They yearn, as did the founding persons, to draw others with them into a radical faith-community of congregational rebuilders. There is a fire in these people, a Gospel radicality that disturbs the com-placent, the spiritually leth-argic, those who have compromised with worldly values. Not all reconverting religious are called to be significant refounding persons. Most of us are rather called to exercise our discernment in discovering those among us who are gifted to be such people. Once these individuals have been spotted, our task is to join with them in aiding the congregation to move out of chaos into a new integration of the Gospel and the needs of the world.5" 3. Effective commitment to action: myth ritualization Myth is action as well as words. The action is the ritual dimension of the myth. Sacred time, primeval reality, breaks into life here and now. For myth ritualization there is required courage, a boldness of initiative and drive. In brief, an ongoing process of reconversion is necessary. In ritual we grab hold of the inner dynamism of the myth in action that is adapted to changed circumstances of time and place. Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life Of course, we need to be open to the fact that in our discernment we may discover it is actually God's will for our community, province or congregation to die. Gospel resignation in the face of even congregational death will be salvific, a badly needed witness to many contemporary cul-tures of how death must be faced. Most Western cultures do everything possible to avoid facing the reality of death-chaos. From a Christian point of view, active submission to the realities of one's own death-bound nature becomes an act of obedient surrender to the Father, a total com-mitment to the full power of faith, hope and love.~° As it is for each Christian, so it should be for a religious congregation that discerns it is God's will for it to die: "Father, into your hands I com-mend my spirit" (Lk 23:46). Summary Myth is always an effort to reveal or articulate, and so to make compre-hensible, some truth about the world and our life in it. This truth cannot be grasped or known fully in itself but is capable of being expressed in and through symbols. The myth should attempt to articulate transcendental reality, to give the meaning behind ever changing experi-ences that influence human life, "to pin down an Absolute in which the human mind can rest with some feeling of security."~' Myths become distorted or cease to exist for several reasons. In particular, myths die because they are no longer relevant or because people refuse the self-discipline required by the myth. Myths are liminal phenomena, that is, their retelling gives meaning and security to people in the midst of personal or cultural chaos. If people are prepared to adapt their myths to new circumstances, then they will break through chaos into new life, and their myths will become vital bnce more. Religious congregations have their own particular mythologies. Today congregations are in chaos. They are confused about what to do, how to revitalize, how to discover what God is asking of them. They may even be fearful of what God will ask, now that their once secure struc-tures have disappeared. For revitalization to occur there needs to be a retelling by religious of their congregational mythologies. This retelling, if it is to be something more than a hollow nostalgic or sentimental recital of past achievements, must emerge out of a process of myth interpretation/ reconversion/discernment. Reconversion is the wholehearted abandonment to the Father's will in imitation of Jesus who "emptied himself., obediently accepting even death on the cross"(Ph 2:7,8). It is the admission that oneself and one's 40/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 congregation have an absolute need of God who alone is the ultimate source of security and identity. When this abandonment takes place, then the experience of chaos or confusion within oneself and the congregation becomes creative. Through poverty of spirit, the religious finds a way to discover the presence of God, the Absolute, the ultimate figure revealing laimself in the congregational myth. Strengthened by this grace of reconversion, the religious and the congregation itself are prepared to discern God's will in their regard. Through discernment religious may discover that God wishes the congre-gation to die. The free acceptance of congregational death is a salvific action. Or discernment may reveal that the congregation should come alive through reliving the experience that gave birth to the original congregational charism, but adapted now to new needs and circum-stances. Reconversion, discernment and reappropriation of the founding experi-ence will not take place as long as religious are not prepared to face these questions: Do we deny the existence of chaos within and without? If we acknowledge chaos, am I and my congregation willing to acknowledge its positive potential? Are we prepared to face the self-abnegation and abandonment to God, with its naked faith darknesses, as the prerequisite for congregational resurrection? I suspect that many of us still deny the reality of chaos. If some of us do acknowledge the creative potential of chaos, then perhaps our answers to the two last questions are a half-hearted "yes." A pity. If only we could reply with a firm "yes," then we would be on the way to dis-covering the riches of our congregational mythology. The Church, and the world, would be richer for this discovery. In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless wasteland, and darkness covered the abyss . Then God said, "Let there be light. (Gn 1:1-3). NOTES ~ See Raimundo Panikkar, Myth, Faith and Hermeneutics: Cross-Cultural Studies (New York: Paulist Press, 1979). 2 See Paul Ricoeur, The Symbolism of Evil (Boston: Beacon Press, 1967), pp. 161ff, and Interpretation Theory: Discourse and the Surplus of Meaning (Fort Worth: Chris-tian University Press, 1976). Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life ' See John L. McKenzie, Myths and Realities: Studies in Biblical Theology (London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1963), pp. 182-200. ' "Symbol, Myth and the Biblical Revelation" in Theological Studies. Vol. 27, No.l, 1966, p. 1. ~ Lawrence Cada, Raymond Fitz, et al., Shaping the Coming Age of Religious Life (New York: The Seabury Press, 1979), p. 6. 6 Morton T. Kelsey, Myth, History and Faith: The Demythologizing of Christianity (New York: Paulist Press, 1974), p. 5. 7 Thomas Fawcett, The Symbolic Language of Religion: An Introductory Study (London: SCM Press, 1970), p. 101. 8 See Barbara Sproul, Primal Myths: Creating the Worm (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1979), p. I. 9 Morton T. Kelsey, op. cit., p. 4. Also see Elie Wiesel, "Myth and History," in (ed) Alan M. Olson, Myth, Symbol and Reality (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1980), pp. 20-30. ~o See Bronislaw Malinowski, Magic, Science and Religion, and Other Essays (Glencoe, Illinois: Free Press, 1948), pp. 100f. " See Donald A. MacKenzie, The Migration of Symbols and Their Relations to Beliefs and Customs (New York: AMS Press, 1970), p. 5. '2Psychological Reflections: An Anthology of Writings, (ed) Jolande Jacobi (New York: Harper, 1953), p. 314. t~ See C.S. Kirk, Myth: Its Meaning and Functions in Ancient and Other Cultures (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970), pp. 275-280; and Percy S. Cohen, "Theories of Myth" in Man: Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute Vol.4 No.3, 1969, p. 340. " Victor Turner, "Myth and Symbol" in International Encyclopedia of Social Sci-ences (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1977), Vol. 10, p. 579. ~ See (ed) Richard Cavendish, Mythology: An Illustrated Encyclopedia (New York: Rizzoli 1980), pp. 10f. For Freudian view see O. Rank, The Myth of the Birth of the Hero (New York: Robert Brunner, 1952), passim. ~6 See P. S. Cohen, op. cit., p. 341. ~7 See Richard Cavendish, op. cit., p. i !. ,8 Totemism (Boston: Beacon Press, 1963), p. 104; also Myth and Meaning (New York: Schocken Books, 1979), passim. For critique see Edmund Leach, The Struc-tural Study of Myth and Totemism (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1967), passim. ~ See Victor Turner, The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1969), pp. 96f. 2o Quoted in A.W. Reed, Treasury of Maori Folklore (Wellington: A.H. and A.W. Reed, 1963), p. 19. 2~ For overview, see B.C. Sproul, op. cit., pp. 5ft. "2The Sacred and the Profane (New York: Harcourt, 1959), p. 95. 23 See Leonard J o Biallas, Myths, Gods, Heroes and Saviors (Mystic, CT: Twenty- Third Publications, 1986), p. 24. 2, See B. Malinowski, op. cit., pp. 100f. ~ See L.J. Biallas, op. cit., pp. 258-282. 26 See Christel Lane, The Rites of Rulers: Ritual in Industrial Society -- the Soviet Case (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), passim. ~7 See T. Fawcett, op. cit., p. 98. 42/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 '" Ibid, p. 277. '" Ibid, p. 98. .,0 See Victor Turner, "Myth and Symbol," op. cit., p. 576. ~' 7 Jan. 1985, p. 26. '~" Ibid, p. 20. See insights also by Christopher E Mooney, Religion and the Ameri-can Dream: The Search for Freedom Under God (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1977), pp. 17-60. ~ lbid, p. 23. ~' See lan Craib, Modern Social Theory: From Parsons to Habermas (Brighton: Wheat-sheaf, 1984), pp. 115-119. According to The New York Times (14 July 1985) Rambo was invoked at least a dozen times in the discussion on the aid to Afghanistan. Also comments in The Economist (UK), I I Jan. 1986, p. 12. '~ See T. Fawcett, pp. 52-54. .,6 V. Turner uses the expression "root paradigm." See hnage and Pilgrimage in Chris-tian Culture: Anthropological Perspectives (New York: Columbia University Press, 1978), pp. 248f. 37 See L.J. Biallas, op. cit., p. 20. 3, Op. cit., pp. 100f. '~ Op. cit., p. 95. ~0 See B.S. Sproul, op. cit., pp. 27f. ~ Ibid. ,2 See Andrew M. Greeley, The Jesus Myth (New York: Doubleday, 1971), p. II and passim. ~ See Lumen Gentium, par. 44. ~" A Gospel Path: The Religious Life (Brussels: Lnmen Vitae 1975), p. 101. ,s Ibid, p. 94. ,6 Followers of Christ: The Religious Life and the Church (Exeter: Burns and Oates, 1978), p. 12. ,7 See Raymond Hostie, S.J., The Life and Death of Religious Orders': A Psycho- Sociological Approach (Washington, DC: Cara, 1983), pp. 252-272. ~ Western Society and the Church in the Middle Ages (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1970) p. 237. '~ The Religious Orders in England, Vol.3, The Tudor Age (Cambridge: University Press, 1959), p. 198. so "Vatican II and the Church's Response" in Theology Digest Vol. 32, No. 4, 985. ~' See R. Hostie, op. cit., pp. 248,251,269-275. Also G.A. Arbuckle, "lncultura-tion and Evangelization: Realism or Romanticism?" in (ed) Darrell L. Whiteman, Missionaries, Anthropologists and Cultural Change (Williamsburg: Studies in Third World Societies,1985), pp. 176-186. s2 See G.A. Arbuckle, "The Evolution of a Mission Policy: A Case Study (Marist Fathers)," in Missiology, Vol. 14, No. 2, 1986, pp. 131-145. s.~ See G.A. Arbuckle, "Refounding Congregations from Within: Anthropological Reflections," in REview Fo~ R~.~.l~ous, Vol. 45, No. 4, pp. 538-553. ~' See Francis, E. George, O.M.I., "Founding 'Founderology'," in R~vmw For~ R~t6~oos, Vol. 36, No. I, 1977, pp. 40-48. ' ~s For discernment explanation see John C. Futrell, S.J., "lgnatian Discernment" in Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits, St. Louis, April, 1970. Spirituality of Jesuits, St. Louis, May, 1982, passim. Mythology, Revitalization and Religious Life/43 ~ See Magic, Science and Religion, op. cit., p. 101. ~" See comments by R. Hostie, op. cit., pp. 257ff. See helpful insights by John W. Gardner, Self-Renewal: The Individual and the Innovative Society (N.Y.: W.W. Norton, 1981), pp. xi-xviii and passim. ~o Johannes B. Metz, Poverty of Spirit (N.Y.: Paulist, 1986), p. 46. 6~ R.A. MacKenzie, S.J., Faith and History in the Old Testament (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1963), pp. 63f. Christ the Center of Our Vowed Life by Boniface Ramsey, O.P. Father Ramsey's three articles on the vows of religion'are available as a single reprint: i - The Center of Religious Poverty ii - Christocentric Celibacy iii - Cruciform Obedience Price: $1.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St, Louis, Misso~Jri 63108 Images of a Novice Director Melannie Svoboda, S.N.D. Sister Melannie Svoboda became novice director after receiving her Masters in "For-mative Spirituality" from Duquesne University. She may be addressed at Notre Dame Educational Center; 13000 Auburn Road; Chardon, Ohio 44024. For the past four years I have been novice director for my religious com-munity. During these years I have often reflected on what my ministry means to me. I have also shared with other directors our ideas and feelings about our unique role in community. This article is an outgrowth of that personal and shared reflection. It attempts to explore the question, "How does it feel to be a novice director today?" In doing this, I have resorted to the use of images. Although there are many images I could have selected, I have chosen four that I feel convey something essential about the role of novice director. I hope these images provide encouragement for others involved in forma-tion work. I also hope the ideas presented here might help those not directly involved in formation to a better understanding of this ministry. The In-Between Door The first image that comes to my mind when I think of my ministry is "the in-between door." Let me explain. In our provincial house the novitiate is located on the third floor. On that same floor is another wing called St. Anne's where many of our elderly and retired sisters have their bedrooms. Between the novitiate and St. Anne's is a set of double doors. One day, after recreation with the novices, I passed through those doors on my way to another part of the building. As I did, I passed two elderly sisters who were on their way to their rooms. One was using a cane; the 44 Images of a Novice Director/45 other was holding on to the railing along the wail. The sharp contrast between the novices and these elderly sisters struck me. I suddenly thought: being a novice director is a lot like being a door between two very different wings of the same building. In other words, I realized that a novice director is very much an "in-between person." Age wise, many of us directors do stand "in between" the younger and older members of our communities. Ministry-wise, we stand "in between," too. As members of our community, we bring to our ministry years of lived experience as religious. We have a sense of our com-munity's history and traditions, its successes and apparent failures, its struggles and joys, and its hopes and expectations for the future. On the other hand, as directors we come to know the novices well. We learn of their personal histories, their past successes and failures, their struggles and joys, and their hopes and expectations for the future. Thus, we stand "in between." As directors, we are aware of our respon-sibility to communicate to the novices what religious life is in general and how our particular community gives expression to that life. But we also sense a corresponding responsibility, to a certain extent, to convey to the larger community who the new members are and what they are bringing to religious life. Such an "in-between position" can be both painful and exciting. It can be painful because it has its own built-in tension. As novice directors, we sometimes feel "caught in the middle" or even "torn apart." We find ourselves thinking or saying to our fellow religious: "If only you could see how much the novice is struggling with right now, how much goodwill there is in her, you would be far more patient and understand-ing." Similarly, we find ourselves saying to our novices: "If only you could appreciate more what we have gone through as a community and what we have experienced in the past, you would not be so quick to judge." But being "in between" is exciting, too. As novice directors, we have a unique perspective on religious life. Many times we may be asked to explain or defend what the novices may or may not be doing. Like-wise, we may be asked to explain or defend the traditions and attitudes of the professed community. We can welcome this "in-between-ness" since it affords us the challenge to reassess continuously our values and priorities or simply to articulate our beliefs anew. The Big "Meannie" Several years ago I was teaching film study to high school seniors. One day a film arrived addressed to me. But there was a typing error on 46/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 the label. The letter "!" had been left out of my name, so instead of saying Sister Melannie the label read Sister Meannie. I laughed at that mistake back then, but, since becoming novice director, I have sometimes felt that I had been changed from Sister Melannie to Sister Meannie. Another novice director echoed this same feeling when she said to me recently: "I used to be a nice person. But since becoming novice director, I feel I've become an ogre." There are a number of factors that contribute to this feeling. Within the past several years there has been a movement in many religious com-munities to involve the larger community more in the initial formation pro-cess. Professed members have a greater sense of their personal responsibil-ity for welcoming and encouraging new members. Such a trend is basically very good. Like all of us, the novices need affirmation in order to grow, and today we see the larger community more and more provid-ing this affirmation. But the novices need to be challenged, too. They need to come to a healthy awareness of their weaknesses and shortcomings. Although the professed community does help out in this area, nevertheless, the primary responsibility for doing this lies usually with the director. One director explained it this way: "Novices are so few these days that sometimes the sisters bend over backwards to make the novice feel accepted. They do nothing but praise the novice -- I'm the one who has to tell her the things she doesn't want to hear." A few examples might clarify this. Perhaps a novice is lively and witty -- two characteristics that, in themselves, seem attractive. The pro-fessed might continuously affirm these qualities in the novice. But I, as director, might begin to see that the novice's liveliness reflects a deep need to be the center of attention. Her wit might reveal a lack of sensitiv-ity to the feelings of others. As director, I have to lead her to this aware-ness. That is hard to do. No one likes to bear bad news. No one enjoys confronting others on this level. But what makes it possible for us is to see such a confrontation within the context of love. Often I find myself asking the question; "Do I love her enough to be honest with her?" The Island In her Gift from the Sea, Anne Morrow Lindbergh writes (p. 40): '"No man is an island,' said John Donne. I feel we are all islands -- in a common sea." I agree with Lindbergh that we are all islands. But we novice directors can experience our "islandness" in very sharp and often painful ways. There are several factors that can contribute to the novice director's Images of a Novice Director/47' feelings of isolation. First, there's the simple fact that there are not too many novice directors to begin with. With the decline in the number of novices, there is a corresponding decrease in the number of directors. As a result, we directors have few "colleagues." This situation can lead to the feeling that no one really understands our unique stresses and frustra-tions. This sense of isolation can be intensified by the decisions we are called upon to make. Perhaps the most difficult decision in our ministry is the decision that a novice does not belong in religious life. Making such a decision, especially when there are so few novices to begin with, can increase a director's sense of aloneness or even rejection by the larger community. Fortunately there are steps we can take to ease our "islandness." In my diocese of Cleveland, for example, we formation directors meet regu-larly not only to plan our inter-novitiate program, but also to share ideas and experiences informally. There are regional and national organizations we can plug into as well as periodicals (such as this one) to which we can subscribe. Support groups are very popular today. Those of us involved in formation need such a support group in order for us to minister effectively and happily. The Gardener When I became novice director, I simultaneously began to grow some African violets. Perhaps something deep inside of me sensed a connection between ministering to novices and caring for plants -- I wasn't sure. But I received a few clippings from my mother and, within a relatively short time, I had a number of healthy looking violets. Now I know for sure: caring for these African violets is very similar to being a novice director. If there's one thing a good gardener knows, it's this: the gardener does not cause the plants to grow and flourish; he or she can only assist in their development. A good gardener is more observer than doer, more admirer than cause. The same is true for novice directors. Over and over again we have to remind ourselves that God is the formation director. We are mere assistants. This attitude of dependence and trust in God is not only fundamental for our ministry, it is refreshingly freeing. As directors, we can worry too much. We can become too impatient with a novice's apparent slow devel-opment. We may find ourselves saying: "She should be farther along by now," or "Prayer should mean more to him at this stage." Sometimes we can be tempted to intervene too much, to say too much, to control too much. Like a bad gardener, we may handle too much, water too much, Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 and fertilize tOO much, thus causing more harm than good. But our experience in formation soon leads us to trust more in God -- in his way, in his time -- than in our own expertise. One of the great-est joys as novice director is being privy to tremendous growth in our directees -- growth thht sometimes occurs not according to the "law," but even seemingly contrary to the "law." This truth was brought home to me recently by one of my "baby" African violets. When I started this plant from a cutting, I knew I would have to wait many months, perhaps even a year, before I could expect to see any blossoms. But this particu-lar African violet surprised me. After only several weeks, although its leaves were extremely tiny, this plant produced not one, but two giant purple blossoms. The plant, by all rules, was far too young and immature to produce such splendid flowers, yet, there they were, beautiful to behold. That "infant" African violet is a reminder to me that, as novice director, I have to be ready for surprises in my ministry. The in-between door, the big "meannie," an island, a gardener. These are four images that come to my mind when I reflect on my ministry as novice director. When we use images to try to explain the essentially unexplainable, we are in good company, for Jesus himself resorted to images time and time again: "The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed., is like a buried treasure., is like yeast., is like a drag-net thrown into the lake." I hope these few images I have used, though incomplete and imperfect, might help draw us more deeply into the mys-tery of our formation ministry. Prayer for Peace Give me to see, O Lord, By Faith's clear vision, Troth that to other sight at best is dim. Grant me to know, O Lord, By Love's deep wisdom, Peace in the Cross, Christ in the Sign of Him. Sister Cecilia Ward, S.C. Sacred Heart Convent-- 6225 Walnut Street Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 15206 Surrender: The Key to Wholeness William A. Barry, S.J. This is Father Barry's third article on the theme of "a peculiar sort of resistance to God." He continues to work in the formation of novices and may be addressed at Saint Andrew House; 300 Newbury Street; Boston, Massachusetts 02115. In two recent articles' I have discussed a peculiar sort of resistance to God, a resistance that seems to be the avoidance of good experiences. Recently in a prayer group discussion I received some more light on this puzzling phenomenon which I would like to share with the readers of this review, z Have you ever wondered about people like Bartimaeus, the blind beggar who receives his sight (Mk 10:46-51)? Did it ever occur to you that they might not want to be healed? Well it has occurred to me because there have been times when I have not wanted inner healing -- the heal-ing of resentment at a personal loss, for example. As a result I have thought that people like Bartimaeus have a rather remarkable kind of courage and hope in the future to want to be healed. Let us reflect on what it must have meant for Bartimaeus as he pon-dered the question Jesus put to him, "What do you want me to do for you?" If he allows himself to want his sight, two possibilities open up. His hopes could be dashed if it proves impossible for Jesus to fulfill his desires. Often enough, I believe, we limit our desires precisely so that we will not be too disappointed. On the other hand, he could actually receive his sight. But what then? After all, he now has an identity that revolves around being a blind beggar. Who will he be if he is no longer blind? He knows how to cope with who he now is; he makes a living and he gets attention and perhaps even pity from others. How will he live as a sighted person? Suppose that a great deal of his vital energy is fueled 49 50/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 by resentment of the trick life has played on him. What will it be like not to have that resentment? His friends will have to learn new ways of deal-ing with him as well. Indeed, they may not be willing or able to make the transition to relating to a man who is no longer handicapped. All of this may seem quite fanciful. Yet any counselor or spiritual director can testify that there is in us some power that is inherently con-servative, that wants the status quo to be preserved no matter how painful that status quo is. I may be between a rock and a hard place, but it is my rock and my hard place, and I know how to cope with the situation. Leaving it is very difficult, no matter how painful it also is to stay. Can we make sense of this difficulty that works against even desiring a change to something better? I have already pointed to one source of the difficulty. My identity can be wrapped up in my present status, whether that status is "blind beggar," "jil.ted lover," "bereaved husband," "unloved child," "unappreciated coworker," or whatever. To give up the identity may seem like giving up one's only self. Moreover, as already indicated, I have built up around this identity ways of coping with life, and even of earning a living. To change means to face an unknown, and perhaps worse future. There is, perhaps, a more subtle source of resistance as well. Freudian analysts speak of the covert gratification neurotic symptoms bring to the one who has them. There can be covert sexual and/or aggressive gratification, for example, in a wife's agoraphobia (fear of open spaces) because her husband has to stay at home more with her -- and also has to do the shopping. Suicidal people have been known to get gratification from the thought of making others guilty, miserable, even sick by their deaths. It may be that all of the status quos which we find so hard to give up provide some covert gratification. For example, Bartimaeus might well wonder whether anyone will pay attention to him if he is no longer blind. Again, to want to be healed of the resentment caused by a friend's hurtful remarks may mean that I will have to give up the covert hope that my friend is feeling pangs of remorse. We come close to the central insight I received at the prayer group. To want to be healed, to be changed, to become more whole means to surrender to life and to the future. The surrender involves two distinct, but interrelated movements, I believe. On the one hand, it means accept-ing my past as precisely what it is, my past. On the other hand, it means surrendering myself to the mystery of the future, ultimately to the Mys-tery we call God. We will look at each of these movements in turn. Bartimaeus must have accepted his past. He is a blind man, a blind Surrender: the Key to Wholeness beggar. He does not seem to wallow in resentment at what life has done to him; if he did, he would not have been able to ask so forcibly for his sight. To come to this point of acceptance he may have had to go through all the stages of grief described so well by Kubler-Ross.3 He may have denied his blindness, raged at it, at life, and at God, bargained with God, and become depressed. But now he has accepted that he is blind. And yet it is accepted as somehow past, as not controlling his freedom now, his freedom to desire a change. "Master, let me receive my sight." It is important to grasp the full impact of what it means for Bartimaeus, or anyone of us, to accept the past. It does not mean a stoic impassivity toward life. It does not mean a rosy optimism either. Life has dealt Bartimaeus a cruel blow, as it has dealt cruel blows to many people. Children have been subjected to abusive, unloving and unskilled parenting and have been psychically and spiritually scarred as a result. Loved ones have tragically and permanently been parted, and the surviv-ors are wounded deeply. To accept the past does not mean to condone everyone and everything. But it does mean to forgive in some deep way. SCren Kierkegaard makes a powerful statement while commenting on the biblical story of Tobias and Sarah. Recall that Sarah has become a mockery to her own maid because seven men had died on their marriage night to her. Now Tobias has asked to marry her. Many see Tobias as the hero. "No," says Kierkegaard: It is Sarah that is the heroine . For what love of God it requires to be willing to let oneself be healed when from the beginning one has been thus bungled without one's fault, from the beginning one has been an abortive specimen of humanity! What ethical maturity was required for assuming the responsibility of allowing the loved one to do such a daring deed! What humility before the face of another person! What faith in God to believe that the next instant she would not hate the hus-band to whom she owed everything!4 To accept the past as my past brings a freedom from it. But freedom does not mean that I am no longer the person that past has made me. Bartimaeus is who he is because he has been a blind beggar. So too, Sarah is who she is because of her.history of marriages. Another example is supplied by a response of a young man who was born a hemophiliac; at any moment of his life he could bleed to death from a simple cut. He was asked whether he wished that he had not had the illness. "How can I -- or anyone -- wish that the most important thing that ever happened to me had not happened? It is like saying that I wish I had been born on another planet, so different would I probably be. Put it this way: I would not have it any other way." 5 52/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 And yet with this acceptance there also comes a freedom from the past. Bartimaeus is free of the imprisoning identity: "blind beggaL" Even if he does not receive his sight, he is free to become blind Bartimaeus the poet, or blind Bartimaeus the husband of Mary, or blind Bartimaeus the follower of Jesus. Just as the young hemophiliac can, by accepting his past, become a doctor, a teacher, a husband who also hap-pens to be hemophiliac. To accept the past as my past means to accept a future limited by my past, but nonetheless a future. Erik Erikson calls his final developmental stage the crisis between ego integrity and despair. Ego integrity or wisdom is described in this way: "It is the acceptance of one's one and only life cycle as something that had to be and that, by necessity, permitted of no substitutions: it thus means a new, a different love of one's parents."6 Such wisdom, Erikson maintains, leads, to freedom from the inordinate fear of death. And this may be the crux of th

Issue 41.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1982. ; REVIEW FOR REIolGIOI.IS (ISSN 0034-639X). published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis, MO 63108. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOLIS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO, © 1982 by REVIEW FOR REI,IGIOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscfip!ion U.S.A.: $9.00 a year; $1"/.00 for two years. Olher countries: $10.00 a year; $19.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW Eou RELIC.IOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Dululh, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor Sept./Oct., 1982 Volume 41 Number 5 Manuscripts, hooks for review and correspondence wilh thc editor should be sent to REVII.:W FOR R~:I.,(;~OUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be senl Io Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuil Community; SI. Joseph's University; Cily Avenue at 541h SI.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from R~:v~:w ~ou REL~(aOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Letters of Gratitude Robert F. Morneau In this article, Bishop Morneau is attempting an experiment, the inspiration of which he explains in his introduction. If his effort responds to a sufficient desire in the audience, he has other letters to other authors already in mind. Bishop Morneau, Auxiliary Bishop of Green Bay, has an office at Ministry to Priests Program; 1016 N. Broadway; De Pere, WI 54115. How many of us, well-intentioned indeed, have been moved to express gratitude for gifts received but, lacking either sufficient discipline or crowded by pressing demands, have failed to properly recognize our benefactors. I stand self-accused! Though trained in younger years to promptly send thank-you notes, distance from gracious family policies has allowed this excellent habit to diminish ,and finally disappear. This present collection of thank you letters, though long overdue, attempts to make restitution; it seeks to halt my proclivity to take things for granted. Several stimuli have served as prods in this present endeavor. One was Flannery O'Connor's The Habit of Being. l found in her collected letters a style of discourse that might be labeled "heart .talk": simple, direct and highly personal Listening in to her conversations with a variety of persons proved to be for me enriching and inspiring. A second stimulus came from a reflection of Henri Nouwen in his sensitive autobiographical piece The Genesee Diary: Meanwhile, it remains remarkable how little is said and written about letter writing as an important form of ministry. A good letter can change the day for someone in pain. can chase away feelings of resentment, can create a smile and bring jo.t, to the heart. After all, a good part of the New Testament consists of letters, and some of the most profound insights are written down in letters between people who are attracted to each other by a deep personal affection, l~tter writing is a very important art, especially for those who want to bring the good news (p. 70-71). A third and most important stimulus comes from a personal desire, i.e., a longing that others might meet some of the people who have touched my life. 641 642 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 Their wisdom and gifts are too valuable to remain on shelves, collecting dust while our spirits remain famished. These jottings of mine are means to an end. They attempt to draw the reader to lovingly pursue the .full text of each author addressed. The passages 1 have included are merely hors d'oeuvres; the main course lies in the books themselves. Our libraries contain a wealth of material that boggles the mind How to be selective in such a rich mine; what gems to carry out and which to leave behind? The choice, like all choices, causes us joy in the books withdrawn, sorrow at what must be foregone because of our limitations. But then there are other seasons for further reading and future generations to ponder other authors. Three letters are contained in this series. The first is written to Julian of Norwich (b. 1342 - d. 1416). In her masterpiece of spiritual literature, Showings, Julian articulates how God revealed himself in her life. Her work is marked by clarity and depth, compassion and keen sensitivit.v, theological precision and accu-racy. The work is a deep personal witness of how the human heart is touched b), divine love. The second letter is addressed to Simone Weil. She lived from 1909 to 1943. She was a brilliant mathematician and philosopher and became deeply involved in social and political issues. Though attracted to Catholicism, she never was received into the Church. Her writings show deep sensitivity and keen intelli-gence. Ralph Waldo Emerson, an American essayist and poet, is the recipient of the third letter. He lived from 1803 to 1882. His essays are filled with poetic insight and challenging convictions. He was a gifted man who articulated well the inner journey. Hopefully, these letters will draw us into a deeper appreciation of three who journeyed before us. Hopefully, too, we will be challenged to read the primary sources. Julian Norwich, England Dear Julian, I write in gratitude for your spiritual journal which has touched the heart of the human condition in many ~vays. For those who are skeptical of private revelations, and I am one of them, your writings indicate that such workings of God are authentic when received and expressed in grace. I would like to share now some of the themes and reflections that touch my spirit. Your God! Courteous, accessible and familiar! At the heart of such a theology is your intense awareness of a God whose love is personal, a God who waits and longs for us, his people. I noted that you used the adjective "courteous" of God well over fifty .times, driving home the point of his graciousness and intense affectivity. How attractive this is: to be drawn by love to God rather than to be exposed to harsh attributes of anger and wrath. And what a struggle you had to Letters of Gratitude / 645 find the compatibility between wrath in God and his rich courtesy. Yet your sense of sin and the necessity of mercy permeate all your writings. Sin is offensive to God indeed; yet his love comes to our sinfulness in mercy and healing. The God you experienced is indeed the God of Scripture. You are now famous, you know, for calling God "mother." More specifically, you applied this term to Jesus because it is through him that we are reborn and nurtured in our new life. He carries us, as a mother does her child, in fruitful pregnancy. Based on this analogy of birth, nurturing and pregnancy, the only fitting term is "mother." Hopefully, this beautiful image will not be lost because of myopic imagination or airtight theologies. In your life of seclusion, the charge might be made in our age of high social consciousness that you lived a truncated spirituality. However, your reflections constantly call people to virtue, the practical living out in specific ways the love of God experienced in prayer. Moreover, you often use the expression "fellow-Chris-tians" which indicates that you were deeply concerned about all people. Thomas Merton once stated that he never felt so close to God and his fellow pilgrims as when he was in solitude. That paradoxical experience was also part of your life and you shared it with us well. Speaking of well-ness! A constant refrain is that "all will be well." Time and time again you drive us back to the mystery of providence and the demand for trust in the Lord. The great deed of God will be to bring about total healing of .history and creation. We stand too close to pain to realize this but you had. the faith to believe in the darkness. Indeed, faith is the ability to say "I know that you know." Yet in the darkness of our pain and frailty we want all to be well now, unable and unwilling to accept the woe that comes our way. Again you call us to a central spiritual truth: well-being or woe is not the heart of the matter, rather it is doing the will of the Father. In this lies all holiness and peace. You are a good teacher. Through the analogy of a hazelnut (183), you draw together the mysteries of being created, loved and preserved; the image of a knot (284), points out the tremendous bonding between God and ourselves; at the bottom of the sea (193) you remind us of God's continual presence; in the magnifi-cent image of the city (337) you point out how God dwells forever in our inner abode; in the analogy of the king-servant (188ff) we are present with the familiar and personal working relationship between the Creator and his creature. Add to these pictures of wounds, a purse, the ground, a gardener, a citadel, and you bring us through images into insight. These delightful mental "buckets" help us to retain a wealth of truth and theology. Romanticism gives way to realism because you lived constantly in the shadow of the cross and the experience of suffering that such discipleship entails. You longed to taste.the sufferings of Jesus, your Beloved. Thus your spiritual life was a mixture of consolation and desolation; you accepted this as your Savior did in his life. Very helpful is your description of the alternating movements of the spirits and the constant challenge to accept either with equal peace of mind. Our natural inclination is to flee pain, poverty and deprivation; grace allows us to endure and 644 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 participate in this dark side of life and thereby make great spiritual progress. Attitude of mind is crucial; grace is necessary to train us in proper disposition. The fact that we have little or no control over the alternating spirits deep within adds its own unique cross. Acceptance of this fact is a key to spiritual maturity. In what lies happiness? What is heaven? You respond to these questions with directness and simplicity. Heaven is Jesus: happiness is found in personal relation-ships with our God and his creation. Having things is replaced by being possessed by Love. Being is more significant than doing, though the latter will follow freely when love is embraced. Further, God's bliss is in us--we are his delight, his bliss, his crown. What magnificent mutuality here! God's countenance never changes, his eyes are always filled with love, his smile is graciously upon us. A God who delights in his creatures--you have repeated well the message of the psalmist. Central to our relationship with God is prayer. I really enjoyed your distinction between higher and lower contemplation (339), the former focusing on God's love and causing spiritual joy and delight, the latter gazing upon sin and keeping us in reverential fear and holy shame. What a beautiful balance, a trait that is discernible throughout your writings. Indeed, without contemplation we begin to distance ourselves from our subjective experience and thus from the Lord. Yet he remains ever close; we must be disposed to hear and respond to his slightest touch. Two last points are of great interest to me: the constant reference to divine indwelling and the seeking/finding theme. God has, in his inscrutable providence, decided to make his home within our being. From this flows an incomprehensible dignity that we are challenged to attend to. With such a guest, how reverently we should live! It is because of our blindness and insensitivity that we fail many times to live within this presence. Then too, Julian, you speak of two movements that are of great importance: seeking the Lord and finding him. For you indicate that in the finding we receive consolation and deep joy; in the seeking, the Lord is pleased and delighted. Both are good, yet what is central is the Lord's will. Thus if we are to find the Lord, then we should rejoice in such a grace. Come what may, it is recognizing and doing God's will that determines sanctity. For your lightness of touch, for your sharing of faith vision, for your modeling of prayer, for your gentle humanness, I thank you. With deep affection, RFM Happiness Contentment For until I am substantially united to him, I can never have perfect rest or true happiness, until, that is, 1 am so attached to him that there can be no created thing between my God and me. (183) For this is the loving yearning of the soul through the touch of the Holy Spirit. from the understanding which I have in this revelation: God, of your goodness give me yourself, for you are enough for me, and I can ask for nothing which is less which can pay you full worship. And if I ask anything which is less, always I am in want; but only in you do I have everything. (184) Letters of Gratitude / 845 God's Will Relativity Pleasing God ¯. and therefore we may with reverence ask from our lover all that we will, for our natural will is to have God, and God's good will is to have us, and we can never stop willing or loving until we possess him in the fullness of joy. And there we can will no more, for it is his will that we be occupied in knowing and loving until the time comes that we shall be filled full in heaven¯ (186) But the reason why it seemed to my eyes so little was because I saw it in the presence of him who is the Creator. To any soul who sees the Creator of all things, all that is created seems very little¯ (190) And this vision taught me to understand that the soul's constant search pleases God greatly¯ For it cannot do more than seek, suffer and trust. And this is accomplished in every soul, to whom it is given by the Holy Spirit. And illumination by finding is of the Spirit's special grace, when it is his will. Seeking with faith, hope and love pleases our Lord, and finding pleases the soul and fills it full of joy. And so I was taught to understand that seeking is as good as contemplating, during the time that he wishes to permit the soul to be in labor. It is God's will that we seek on until we see him, for it is through this that he will show himself to us, of his special grace, when it is his will. And he will teach a soul himself how it should bear itself when it contem-plates him, and that is the greatest honor to him and the greatest profit to the soul, and it receives most humility and other virtues, by the grace and guidance of the Holy Spirit¯ For it seems to me that the greatest honor which a soul can pay to God is simply to surrender itself to him with true confidence, whether it be seeking or contemplating. These are the two activities which can be seen in this vision: one is seeking, the other is contemplating. Seeking is common to all, and every soul can have through grace and ought to have discretion and teaching from Holy Church¯ It is God's will that we receive three things from him as gifts as we seek¯ The first is that we seek willingly and diligently without sloth, as that may be with his grace, joyfully and happily, without unreasonable depression and useless sorrow. The second is that we wait for him steadfastly, out of love for him, without grumbling and contending against him, to the end of our lives, for that will last only for a time¯ The third is that we have great trust in him, out of complete and true faith, for it is his will that we know that he will appear, suddenly and blessedly, to all his lovers. For he works in secret, and he will be perceived, and his appearing will be very sudden¯ And he wants to be trusted, for he is very accessible, familiar and courte-ous, blessed may he be. (195-196) And in this my understanding was lifted up into heaven, where I saw our Lord God as a lord in his own house, who has called all'his friends to a splendid' feast. Then I did not see him seated anywhere in his own house; but ! saw him reign in his house as a king and fill it all full of joy and mirth, gladdening and consoling his dear friends with himself, very familiarly and courteo.usly, with wonderful melody in endless love in his own fair blissful countenance, which glorious countenance fills all heaven full of the joy and Citations are reprinted from Julian of Norwich, Showings. trans, by Edmund Colledge, O.S.A., and James Walsh, S.J., © 1978 by The Missionary Society of St. Paul the Apostle in the State of New York, used by permission of Paulist Press. 646 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 Dryness of Spirit bliss of the divinity. (203) This vision was shown to teach me to understand that some souls profit by experiencing this. to be comforted at one time, and at another to fail and to be left to themselves. God wishes us to know that he keeps us safe all the time, in sorrow and in joy; and sometimes a man is left to himself for the profit of his soul, although his sin is not always the cause. For in this time I committed no sin for which I ought to have been left to myself, for it was so sudden. Nor did I deserve these feelings of joy, but our Lord gives it freely when he wills, and sometimes he allows us to be in sorrow, and both are one love. For it is God's will that we do all in our power to preserve our consolation, for bliss lasts forevermore, and pain is passing, and will be reduced to nothing for those who will be saved. Therefore it is not God's will that when we feel pain we should pursue it in sorrow and mourning for it, but that suddenly we should pass it over, and preserve ourselves in the endless delight which is God. (205) And when we fall back into ourselves, through depression and spiritual blindness and our experience of spiritual and bodily pains, because of our frailty, it is God's will that we know that he has not forgotten us. (307) For our courteous Lord does not want his servants to despair because they fall often and grievously: for our falling does not hinder him in loving us. (245) Our Lord wants us to have true understanding, and especially in three things which belong to our prayer. The first is with whom and how our prayer originates. He reveals with whom when he says: I am the ground: and he reveals how by his goodness, because he says: First it is my will. As to the second, in what manner and how we should perform our prayers, that is that our will should be tuned, rejoicing, into the will of our Lord. And he means this when he says: I make you to wish it. As to the third; it is that we know the fruit and the end of our prayer, which is to be united and like to our Lord in all things. (250-251) II Simone Weil France Dear Simone, l write in gratitude for your essays touching on a wide range of experience: God's presence in our human condition, the plight of the worker, the meaning of affliction, the purpose of s~tudy, the struggle for justice, the future of political and economic systems. You speak from felt experience, keenly analyzing the causes and effects of human proclivities and aberrations. Provocative, inspiring, challeng-ing all, your reflections have touched many minds and hearts; your sensitive spirit has provided both theoretical and practical implications that continue to have impact on our times. Letters of Gratitude A trait that strikes me deeply is your candidness in addressing personal and collective issues. In regard to your spiritual life, you were drawn toward Catholi-cism but felt that you could not accept that stirring because in so doing you would remove yourself from large segments of the human family. While failing to see the logic of your conclusion, 1 respect your unwillingness to compromise, your com-mitment to principle. Your courage is impressive. Besides personal honesty in terms of your own life-style, you take on systems that oppress and exploit the fundamental rights of people. A deep sense of responsibility toward the common good and a powerful vision of human solidarity made you cry out wherever the dignity of people was threatened or.injured. Human respect did not paralyze you; you were willing to pay the price in your hunger and thirst for justice. A related but distinct theme is your profound insight into the philosophic patterns of means-end. The ultimate evil is to reverse the order of reality: turning means into ends (138). This principle explains so much of life. Other authors concur with your observation but from slightly different angles: C. $. Lewis warns of getting caught on Christianity (creeds, codes, cults) and' forgetting about Christ; he notes elsewhere how writers begin to focus more on how they say things rather than the truth which is the end of all discourse. Pope John Paul 11 speaks about techhology enslaving the person whenever humans fail to exercise their proper responsibility over the instruments that they have created. All in all, exploitation and manipulation are the consequences of failing to allow'the goal to govern the process. Such a failure fosters death, not life. By profession you did spend some time teaching. In writing about this most noble vocation you articulated a thesis that all study, by its very nature, is directed toward the love of God and is a preparation for that love. The inner dynamism of the process contains the power of contemplation, that human act of loving atten-tiveness that puts us into intimate contact with reality. All study is an exercisein attention; attention is a form of contemplation: contemplation is essentially a union with reality whose ultimate source is God. In faith we bglieve that all creation in some way manifests the Creator. Thus your thesis has a firm theologi-cal basis. Regardless of the discipline, be it anthropology, sociology or literature, attentiveness to the reality exposed by these studies is indirectly preparing the alert student to love of God. What joy this is for the faith-filled teacher; what a surprise to the atheist who unwittingly leads the searching student into the embrace of God. Shakespeare once wrote: "Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel." You worked in a factory and understood from experience many of the trials of human life. From the inside you struggled with need and pain, small joys and unhappy compensations. Choice, not necessity, drew you into this world. To the extent that you did not need to remain in the w~rld of wretches, possessing the necessary resources both intellectually and materially to exit at will, there was a tinge of unreality in such a choice. Not all the strings were cut. Regardless, you tasted the full range of boredom, anomie and meaninglessness that result from situations in which people are no longer dealt with as persons but are treated as objects or machines. It was from this posture that you prophetically demanded reform in 641~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 systems that impinged negatively on the hearts and dignity of people. Your words continue to challenge our generation, caught by a vast technological network that threatens our freedom and enslaves our spirits. A special influence in your life was a poem by George Herbert entitled "Love." While concentrating with great effort on the inner meaning of this distant, sensitive man's beautiful verse, you encountered the Lord. Drawn into the dialogue of the poem your heart was captured and held fast. The intimacy and indwelling articu-lated by HerbertAake us to the heart of faith: a deep personal relationship with God that provides a basis for discipleship. The struggle expressed between the invitation to be with God and one's sense of unworthiness, between resting in the Lord and being busy with one's duties and responsibilities, between allowing God to be God and trying to control the flow of lives--all these apparently were part of your existential experience. In a single short poem, crucial life issues were raised and given a resolution: to live in his presence. Eternal joy is contingent upon our individual responseto this challenge. The ways in which God touched your life were as many as the ways in which he used you to influence others. Your awareness of this sensitive process is de-scribed by the term "instrumentality." Through various persons, seen precisely as channels of grace, the Lord made his presence felt: Fr. Perrin acting as friend-counselor transmitted a sense of faith; Homer writing in The Iliad shared a scope of reality and human interaction that enriched your sense of meaning; close friends, intervening at key moments in your life, made visible divine love in word and deed. Having known the divine presence, you in turn shared, through your finely honed gifts, your interpretation of that experience. The Creator and creature in dynamic mutuality! St. Francis' prayer experienced and lived! All of us who have read your works know firsthand the power, meaning and joy of this instrumentality. Sincerely, R.F.M. Friendship Fear But the greatest blessing you have brought me is of another order. In gaining my friendship by your charity (which 1 have never met anything to equal), you have provided me with a source of the most compelling and pure inspiration that is to be found among human things. For nothing among human things has such power to keep our gaze fixed ever more intensely upon God, than friendship for the friends of God. (19) Everybody knows that really intimate conversation is only possible between two or three. As soon as there are six or seven, collective language begins to dominate. That is why it is a complete misinterpretation to apply to the Church the words "Wheresoever two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them." Christ did not say two hundred, or fifty, or ten. He said two or three. He said precisely that he always forms the third in the intimacy of the tete-a-tete: (23) As always happens, mental confusion and passivity leave free scope to the imagination. On all hand~ one is obsessed by a representation of social life Letters of Gratitude Prayer Joy Presence Unhappiness Expression which, while differing considerably from one class to another, is always made up of m~,,steries, occult qualities, myths, idols and monsters; each one thinks that power resides mysteriously in one of the classes to which he has no access, because hardly anybody understands that it resides nowhere, so that the dominant feeling everywhere is that dizzy fear which is always brought about by loss of contact with reality. (37) The key to a Christian conception of studies is the realization that prayer consists of attention. It is the orientation of all the attention of which the soul is capable toward God. The quality of the attention counts for much in the quality of prayer. Warmth of heart cannot make up for it. (44) The intelligence can only be led by desire. For there to be desire, there must be pleasure and joy in the work. The intelligence only grows and bears fruit in joy. The joy of learning is as indispensable in study as breathing is in running. Where it is lacking there are no real students, but only poor caricatures of apprentices who, at the end of their apprenticeship, will not even have a trade. (48) Not only does the love of God have attention for its substance; the love of neighbor, which we know to be the same love, is made of this same substance. Those who are unhappy have no need for anything in this world but people capable of giving them their attention. The capacity to give one's attention to a sufferer is a very rare and difficult thing: it is almost a miracle; it is a miracle. Nearly all those who think they have this capacity do not possess it. Warmth of heart, impulsiveness, pity are not enough . The love of our neighbor in all its fullness simply means being able to say to him: ~What are you going through?". This way of looking is first of all attentive. The soul empties itself of all its own contents in order to receive into itself the being it is looking at, just as he is, in all his truth. (51) Nothing is more difficult to know than the nature of unhappiness: a residue of mystery will always cling to it. For, following the Greek proverb, it is dumb. To seize its exact shadings and causes presupposes an aptitude for inward analysis which is not characteristic of the unhappy. Even if that aptitude existed in this or that individual, unhappiness itself would balk such an activity of thought. Humiliation always has for its effect the crea-tion of forbidden zones where thought may not venture and which are shrouded by silence and illusion. When the unhappy complain, they almost always complain in superficial terms, without voicing the nature of their true discontent; moreover, in cases of profound and permanent unhappi-ness, a strongly developed sense of shame arrests all lamentation. Thus, every unhappy condition among men creates the silent zone alluded to, in which each is isolated as though on an island. Those who do escape from the island will not look back. The exceptions turn out almost always to be more apparent,than real. (64) No thought attains to its fullest existence unless it is incarnated in a human environment, and by environment I mean something open to the world around, something which is steeped in the surrounding society and is in contact with the whole of it, and not simply a closed circle of disciples Citations are reprinted with permission from the book The Sirnone Weil Reader. edited by George Panichas, © 1977. Published by David McKay Co., Inc. 650 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 Silence Suffering Joy Instrumentality Idea Suffering Failings around a master. (84) The whole of space is filled, even though sounds can be heard, with a dense silence which is not an absence of sound but is a positive sound object of sensation; it is the secret world, the world of Love who holds us in his arms from the beginning. (87) I am convinced that affliction on the one hand, and on the other hand joy, when it is a complete and pure commitment to perfect beauty, are the only two keys which give entry to the realm of purity, where one can breathe: the home of the real. But each of them must be unmixed: the joy without a shadow of incompleteness, the affliction completely unconsoled. You understand me, of course. That divine love which one touches in the depth of affliction, like Christ's resurrection through crucifixion, that love which is the central core and intangible essence of joy, is not a consola-tion. It leaves pain completely intact . for anyone in affliction, evil can perhaps be defined as being everything that gives any consolation. (92-93) We know that joy is the sweetness of contact with the love of God, that affliction is the wound of this same contact when it is painful, and that only the contact matters, not the manner of it. (107) It is more suitable for some thoughts to come by direct inspiration; it is more suitable for others to be transmitted through some creature. God uses either way with his friends. It is well-known that no matter what thing, a donkey for instance, can be used as agent without making any difference. It pleases God perhaps to choose the most worthless objects for this purpose. I am obliged to tell myself these things so as not to be afraid of my own thoughts. (110) Now, everybody knows from his own experience how unusual it is for an abstract idea having a long-term utility to triumph over present pains, needs and desires. It must, however, do so in the matter of social existence, on pain of a regression to a primitive form of life. (150) ¯ . . for the understanding of human suffering is dependent upon justice, and love is its condition. (181) In private life also, each of us is always tempted to set his own failings to a certain extent, on one side. relegate them to some attic, invent some method of calculation ~hereby they turn out to be of no real consequence. To give way to this temptation is to ruin the soul; it is the one above all, that has to be conquered. (187) III Ralph Waldo Emerson New England Dear Mr. Emerson, I write in gratitude for the brilliant essays that have flown so freely from your generous pen. Few subjects escape your incisive gaze and contemplative spirit. Letters of Gratitude / 65"1 History, personalities, nature, culture, education, politics, religion have all elicited your comments and artistic revelation. Lecture halls in America and Europe still reecho with the sound of your voice; the mind and heart of many a transcendental-ist quiver with awe at your observations. Even the woods and hills of New England have never been the same since your vision of their very essence. The inward journey! If for no other reason than this, your writings challenge our achievement-oriented generation and activistic culture to reexamine its values and life-style. Prime time and energy must be budgeted for personal interior renewal. You model well for us here. Interiority was a way of life which you evidenced by the depth of your writing. Your words come from a source far beyond your own power; one can sense this in the tone of your discourse. Your contemplative stance presents a viable option for many of us desirous of a life-style radically different from the one offered by our culture. Another world that is not primarily concerned with productivity and external achievements is available to anyone who desires it. Your life makes present such a choice and, though fear of the interior life remains, your courageous entrance instills hope. "Self-Reliance" is a most powerful essay. You state that the divine spark resides in all of us and tends to be activated in sporadic moments. All have the potential in varying degress for genius--those with developed artistic skills express that genius in some visible-audible manner. My understanding of your meaning of self-reli-ance is not that we are called to some solitary, stoical, individualistic self-suffi-ciency; but rather, that we are motivated to get in touch with our deepest self, far beyond the superficial narrowness of our surface self and find therein a wealth that is wedded to the life force (what we call in theological terms, God). Such an analysis would imply that not to have self-reliance would be to cut oneself off from the source of existence. Your abhorrence of conformity and false consistency is well taken at this point. A failure to live from internalized values carries the price tag of no personal identity, a price paid by too many. Healthy and authentic self-reliance fosters true identity and its accompanying freedom. Initially, I struggled with your style--philosophic, at times highly abstract and tight. Profundity and clarity are seldom happily married because of the mysterious nature of reality. The closer one is to truth the more difficult becomes its expres-sion. Simplicity gets covered by human discourse. The mental challenge to reach beyond any style is well worth the effort. Your writings contain a spirit of deep tension between the individual and collective whole, between personal freedom and authoritarian structures, between self and institutions. You are clearly committed to the first value in each set, i.e., the individual, freedom and self. This seems so obvious that the advantages and importance of the common good are not given full weight, the necessity of some structures containing an authority is not fully appreciated, the role that a given institution can play in fostering life fails to be properly valued. Your own expe-rience of leaving the institutional ministry may have had much to do with your outlook. Perhaps the delicate balance between complementary sets of values can-not be maintained by a prophetic spirit such as yours. An implicit principle of 652 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 nature indicates that the development in one direction of our giftedness entails the underdeveloping of others. Such is reality. Thus the experience of your own genius would not allow outer pressures to thwart its expression. The negative and re-straining forces within institutional structures, the decisions of authority and the challenges of social concerns--all thirsting for precious time and energy--weighed so heavily in your judgment that their advantages had to be forfeited. Your piercing intellect cut through what is extraneous in human experience into its heart, the essence of things. In succinct, pithy phrases, you captured principles and patterns of universal significance, thus shedding light on complex experiences and bringing joy to the spirit which perceives but lacks words to articulate its insight. In a single essay many such phrases reside, awaiting discovery by the thirsting soul. For example, in "Compensation" we read: Nature hates monopolies and exceptions. There is a crack in every thing God has made. Fear is an instructor of great sagacity and the herald of all revolutions. Commit a crime, and the earth is made of glass. It is the nature of the soul to appreciate all things. How unfortunate that many have not stopped at your well of late. As a beneficiary of your life-giving water, ! express deep gratitude to you. Your legacy is vast and varied: intellectual excellence of the highest quality, challenging us to develop the rich potential of our minds; historical perspective promoting a contextual vision of life; critical analysis of incisive accuracy, drawing us out of naivete into a sense of healthy criticism; personal integrity as a key goal of growth, demanding that we be true to our own giftedness; enthusiastic living of life, abhorring stagnation and the living of others' scripts; literary expertise ranging from the classic prose to the most lyrical poetry, inviting us to revisit the verbal gems of distant ~pilgrims. These qualities have influenced many: Henry David Thoreau, Emily Dickinson, and countless others. The legacy has not been forgotten. Sincerely, R.F.M. Revelation Perspective We distinguish the announcements of the soul, its manifestations of its own nature, by the term Revelation. These are always attended by the emotion of the sublime. For this communication is an influx of the Divine mind into our mind. It is an ebb of the individual rivulet before the flowing surges of the sea of life. Every distinct apprehension of this central com-mandment agitates men with awe and delight. A thrill passes through all men at the reception of new truth, or at the performance of a great action, which comes out of the heart of nature. In these communications the power to see is not separated from the will to do, but the insight proceeds from obedience, and the obedience proceeds from a joyful perception. (269) The field cannot be well seen from within the field. The astronomer must Letters of Gratitude / 653 Hope Beauty Poet Words Beauty Wisdom Expectation Action Presence have his diameter of the earth's orbit as a base to find the parallax of any star. (285) But the man and woman of seventy assume to know a[[, they have outlived their hope, they renounce aspiration, accept the actual for the necessary and talk down to the young, Let them then become organs of the Holy Ghost; let them be lovers; let them behold truth: and their eyes are uplifted. their wrinkles smoothed, they are perfumed again with hope and power. (289) Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us, or we find it not. (309) Too feeble fall the impressions of nature on us to make us artists. Every touch should tbrill. Every man should be so much an artist that he could report in conversation what had befallen him. Yet, in our experience, the rays or appulses have sufficient force to arrive at the senses, but not enough to reach the quick and compel the reproduction to themselves in speech. The poet is the person in whom these powers are in balance, the man without impediment, who sees and handles that which others dream of, traverses the whole scale of experience, and is representative of man, in virtue of being the largest power to receive and to impart. (321) Words and deeds are quite indifferent modes of the divine energy. Words are also actions, and actions are a kind of words. (322) Wherever snow falls or water flows or birds fly, wherever day and night meet in twilight, wherever the blue heaven is hung by clouds or sown with stars, wherever are forms with transparent boundaries, wherever are outlets into celestial space, wherever is danger, and awe. and love--there is Beauty, plenteous as rain, shed for thee, and though thou shouldst walk the world over, thou shalt not be able to find a condition inopportune or ignoble. (341) To finish the moment, to find the journey's end in every step of the road, to live the greatest number of good hours, is wisdom. (350) I compared notes with one of my friends who expects everything of the universe and is disappointed when anything is less than the best, and I found that ! begin at the other extreme, expecting nothing, and am always full of thanks for moderate goods. (351) Therefore all just persons are satisfied with their own praise. They refuse to explain themselves, and are content that new actions should do them that office. They believe that we communicate without speech and above speech, and that no right action of ours is quite unaffecting to our friends, at whatever distance; for the influence of action is not to be measured by miles. (358) Why should 1 fret myself because a circumstance has occurred which hinders my presence where I was expected? If I am not at the meeting, my presence where 1 am should be as useful to the commonwealth of friend-ship and wisdom, as would be my presence in that place. I exert the same quality of power in all places. (358) Reprinted from The Selected Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson edited by Brooks Atkinson. Pub-lished by Random House, Inc. 654 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 Truth Joy Life Renewal Faith Avarice Truth is the summit of being: justice is the application of it to affairs. (368) On the other part, rectitude is a perpetual victory, celebrated not by cries of joy but by serenity, which is joy fixed or habitual. (370) Life goes headlong. We chase some flying scheme, or we are hunted by some fear or command behind us. But if suddenly we encounter a friend, we pause: our heat and hurry look foolish enough: now pause, now posses-sion is required, and the power to swell the moment from the resources of the heart. The moment is all. in all noble relations. (378) The criticism and attack on institutions, which we have witnessed, has made one thing plain, that society gains nothing whilst a man, not himself renovated, attempts to renovate things around him: he has become tediously good in some particular but negligent or narrow in the rest; and hypocrisy and vanity are often the disgusting result. (455) The disease with which the human mind now labors is want of faith. (458) A canine appetite for knowledge was generated, which must still be fed but was never satisfied, and this knoffledge, not being directed on action, never took the character of substantial, humane truth, blessing those whom it entered. It gave the scholar certain powers of expression, the power of speech, the power of poetry, of literary art, but it did not bring him to peace or to beneficence. (459) Address: The Contemporary Spirituality Of the Monastic Lectio by Matthias Neuman, O.S.B. Price: $.50 per copy, plus postage. Review for Religious Room 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Poverty, Time, Solitude: A Context for a Celibate Life-style Anthony Wieczorek, O.Praem. Brother Wieczorek's ~Parables and Paradigms" appeared in the July/August issue. He resides presently at the Holy Spirit House of Studies; 4841 South Woodlawn Ave.; Chicago, IL 60615. Celibacy is a dimension of a religious way of life. To be understood, therefore, celibacy must be seen in the context of religious life. The meaning of celibacy arises out of its relationship with the complementary vows of poverty and obedience, as well as out of the significance of communal life, prayer, and basic Christian virtue. Seen out of the context of all these elements, celibacy suffers a deprivation and a distortion. From the outset, it is important to be reminded that celibacy is not simply an ethic. Taken out of its context, celibacy is often reduced to being a moral direc-tive-- a negative moral directive. Celibacy is much more than a set of specific sexual mores; it is an extension of Christian virtue, a continuation of it. The sexual demeanor proper to celibacy rests upon Christian virtues and values such as respect for human dignity, single-heartedness, the sacredness of human life, a deep appreciation for what friendship and love can be, compassion, selflessness, and service. A discussion of celibacy must begin here. Before a decision can be made about living celibately, the question must be considered: What does it mean to live a Christian way of life? Am I willing to live with the restraints and limitations imposed upon me, not by celibacy, but by basic Christian values? Only after a person is willing to try to understand, accept, and live a Christian way of life can the matter of celibacy be addressed. Without this prior realization and commitment, celibacy has no context, no depth of meaning, and is left to be nothing more than just another "Thou shalt not . To see at least some part of the richness and potential of celibacy, it must be 655 656 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 viewed as a dedication to poverty, a devotion of time, and a dependence upon solitude. Celibacy as a Dedication to Poverty The vow of celibacy stands nearest to the vow of poverty. Hence, it is an understanding of poverty that sheds the most light upon an understanding of celibacy. If poverty as a way of life cannot be embraced, neither can celibacy. Poverty is precisely a way of living. It is much more than not having the money to buy something .To be poor means to be without many of the everyday options and opportunities that people who are not poor have. To be poor means, among other things, to live in a constant situation of restriction and limitedness. A poor person has not the option of going to a movie or a ball game, of eating apple pie or cherry, of going to one restaurant rather than another, of wearing these shoes or those, this coat or that. Very often poor people do not have these options because they do not have the physical resources that allow for them. Yet despite being deprived of these "necessities" the poor can live happy and holy lives. The fact of poverty, the force of its physical reality, compels people who are poor to live according to needs and not simply wants. Poverty can "cleanse" us of the unnecessary. It can put us into a situation where we are able to more clearly distinguish between a need and a want. Poverty can liberate us from the bondage of wants, leaving us free to pursue our true needs, those things without which we cannot fully live a human life. Poverty can be humbling by forcing us to face our needs but it can also teach us that happiness lies not in having every want satisfied but in having our true needs satisfied. Seen in this light, poverty is the paradigm for celibacy. Celibacy is not simply a deprivation, it is a way of life. Therefore, it must be a way of relating. While we can be impoverished in some ways of expressing love, we can be rich in others. After all, intimacy does not depend upon sexual expression any more than a meaningful gift depends upon price. The very restrictedness of our expression can heighten the value of a poem or letter or a simple touch or smile. Celibacy, like poverty, can teach true gratitude for the beauty and preciousness of relationships. Celibacy has the potential to "cleanse" us of what is not essential and let us see what we truly need to both give and receive from people--the trust, the sharing, the dreaming. Celibacy does not demand that we repress our needs. Rather, it points them out in bolder relief and challenges us to distinguish between the frustration caused by the deprivation of needs and that caused by the depriva-tion of our wants. It sometimes requires just as much creativity to live celibately as it does to live in poverty. Do I have the grace to express myself creatively to others? If the limitedness of deliberate impoverishment can be willfully chosen and reason for gratitude in one's life still be found, if one can be satisfied to have needs fulfilled even if wants must go unsatisfied and yet remain appreciative and joyous, then perhaps such a person truly has the grace, the call to live celibately. A Context for a Celibate Life-style / 657 Such a call is a gift. It is the nature of gifts to be both given and received. Therefore, it is quite possible to refuse the gift of celibacy. One of the most common ways of refusing celibacy is by being filled with self-pity. It is not uncommon to hear celibates of all ages bemoan their celibacy the way an amputee bemoans the loss of a limb. Like some amputee victims, celibates can easily become lost in the conviction that they are only half human, that they are not whole. The way to overcome such feelings is not by trying to prove manliness or womanliness. Rather, the challenge is to find worth and dignity in who we are, in the deeper and more lasting qualities of humanness like compassion, the ability to listen, to laugh, to be grateful, to stand outside ourselves at the service of others. Our humanness depends upon our ability to love. That we love and are loved is a need. How we love and are loved is a want. Celibates live in the poverty of not having all their wants satisfied. Celibacy means distinguishing between needs and wants, accepting what cannot be. and finding satisfaction, thanksgiving, and peace in what is. Celibacy as a Devotion of Time One thing that poverty does provide in abundance is time. Being bereft of options does free up large amounts of time. Celibacy likewise provides an abundance of time. The challenge is how that time is to be spent, what our time is to be devoted to. Celibacy, for example, frees us from the time it takes to raise a family, but what does it free us for? Ideally, perhaps, we are freed for prayer, reading, study, even the opportunity to take time to see and wonder and dream. Celibacy also frees us to serve, to be available for people. Yet if all we do is remain available for work and devote little or no time to prayer and reading, we are distorting celibacy by removing it from a critical dimension of its context. A big danger for both celibates and non-celibates is that they give themselves more to their jobs than to God and their families or communities. It is this issue, the proper use of time, that causes one of the biggest consternations for celibates. The tendency toward entrenchment in work can be an escape from intimacy, but it is also true that many of the occupations engaged in by celibates are extremely time-consuming and energy draining. Moreover, it is work which simply must be done. The tension between giving time and taking iime is not lessened by the fact that most celibates do recognize the necessity for being present to community and for entering into solitude with God. A celibate life-style that does not allow for time not only to recreate but also to read and reflect cannot give life to the celibate. Such a life-style will consume that person instead. One of the challenges and disciplines of celibacy is the proper use of time. While celibacy ought to provide time, in practice it often does not. Here, too, celibacy shows a connection with poverty. The poor guard and dispense their resources carefully, So too with the celibate's dispensing of time. Workaholism is as much a threat to celibacy as sexual licentiousness--perhaps 6511 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 even more so. Our consciences are sensiiive to the issue of sexual restraint but not to making mistresses out of our work. Our culture emphasizes efficiency, produc-tivity, and frowns upon anything that hints of wasting time. Therefore, celibates who find even a little free time quickly and perhaps unconsciously fill it in by doing more. Yet celibacy as a life-style requires time to be set aside not for doing but for being. Time is a gift many celibates refuse to accept because in part they are afraid to take it. Time only makes the loneliness echo more loudly. Time takes away excuses. It confronts us, Yet time in a celibate life-style is essential, for it provides the panorama that enables us to see what we are to move toward. It gives us the opportunity to see and address our needs. Time must be part of every celibate's life, for without that time celibacy loses its context and the solitude that nourishes celibacy cannot be obtained. While celibacy ought to provide time, it is a commod-ity which so few celibates seem to have. Yet time is an essential resource for the celibate for it alone can acquire solitude for us. Celibacy as a Dependence Upon Solitude Celibacy cannot be endured, let alone lived, without the time to enter into solitude with God. Only by freely and gratefully embracing solitude can a person find life in celibacy. Solitude is not loneliness but aloneness, time apart to be alone with oneself and with one's God. Solitude for the celibate is essential for several reasons. Solitude teaches surrender. It strips away the illusion of wants. It is a confrontation with what is real. of what is essential, of what is true. Solitude teaches sight. In the stillness of solitude we see what we would ordinarily have overlooked, assumed, or taken for granted. Through solitude, we are taught to appreciate, admire, and wonder. Solitude teaches sensitivity. Compassion comes from seeing with another's eyes. Solitude makes one hungry to enter into another's life deeply, personally, respectfully, and ge~atly. But often celibates do not embrace solitude. Instead we try to fill in our time with possessions, work. television, and peripheral friendships. Yet it is essential that celibates in particular spend time in solitude so as to spend time with God. In sqlitude we take time to share in God's aloneness. It is in solitude that we can more deeply fall in love with God. If a celibate does not put an effort into being at peace with solitude, into making a friend of solitude, not only does God become a stranger, but we become strangers to ourselves, and celibacy becomes an empty taunt and an ache. Solitude is so important for celibacy because solitude is a quiet moment with God in the privacy and intimacy of one's own heart. Solitude is the backdrop for the silence we need to hear the Word of God. Solitude is the setting for prayer.It directs our life back to God. There is some-thing about solitude that draws us back to center. If we are afraid to spend time with ourselves in the aloneness of our center, we will not come to commune with the silent places of God. The prayer that comes from solitude is the celibate's life blood. Without prayer, celibacy will not. cannot, endure. Without solitude spent with God we become A Context for a Celibate Life-style / 659 strangers to him and so to prayer. Prayer may lead us out of a celibate life-style, but without prayer the apparent emptiness and futility will drive us out of it. Solitude, far from removing us from relationships, prepares us for them. In solitude we have the setting in which to know ourselves, to see ourselves truly, to hear ourselves honestly. To enter into solitude is to venture into the truth of ourselves--be that what it may. With that knowledge we are free to interact with people as persons. With a sense of our own depths we can move toward the depths of others and together with them enter in faith into the depths of God. Conclusion For a full understanding of what celibacy is, it is important that a person move beyond the initial frustration and unnaturalness of living a life of Christian virtues and enter into the discovery of the real mystery and beauty of celibacy. Celibacy centers around accepting solitude, welcoming time, and living in gratitude. It is such things as these that make celibacy seem unnatural. It is not acceptable or typical to be poor, to have time for oneself and for prayer, or to enter willingly into the solitude of one's own soul. To so many, the "unnaturalness" of celibacy is reduced to sexual denial, the deliberate refusal to marry and raise a family. Yet these are only peripheral issues. The seriousness of these issues, however, under-scores the deeper difficulty of celibate life. Celibacy is not only an orientation away from family and spouse (which is hard enough), it must be an orientation toward poverty, time, and solitude. Celibacy itself is neither the sacrifice nor the offering. What we do with celi-bacy is. The beauty and fulfillment in celibacy is found not in what it moves us away from but in what it compels us toward. To find peace and sanctity in celibacy, it is not so important what we purposely and deliberately deny. Rather, it is much more important what we willingly and lovingly embrace. The Celibacy Experience Stephen Rossetti In May, Stephen Rossetti, author of "Psychology and Spirituality: Distinction Without Separation" (July/August, 1981), was awarded his M.A. in Theology from Catholic University, where he plans to continue in the graduate program. His mailing address is: 26 Reed Pkwy., Marcellus, NY 1310g. He who remains in Zion and he that is left in Jerusalem Will be called holy (Is 4:3). Consecrated celibacy is in crisis. The resignation of priests, sisters and brothers, many of them highly respected members of the Church, is no secret. Fear ripples through the ranks of those who have remained, as their closest friends leave to get married. A painful self-analysis naturally follows: Do we really have to be celibate? Why am I the only one left? Will it happen to me? Is celibacy only a vestige of an outmoded spirituality? Why am I still left? Some say the crisis is waning. The Diocese of Buffalo recently reported that its loss of priests and sisters from 1976-81 was only 8.1% and 4.6% respectively, compared to 21.2% and ! 7% from 197 !-76.~ While it seems that fewer are leaving, there are still fewer left in the ranks to do the necessary tasks. It is questionable whether relief is in sight. The continuing decline in priestly vocations in the United States indicates that the crisis is still with us. This past year there has been yet another decline (8.8%) in the number of U.S. theology students studying for the priesthood. These are less than half of the number of the peak years of 1966-67.2 The exodus of priests and sisters is a mult: faceted problem which is more than ~John C. Given, "Buffalo Diocese: Fewer Priests, Nuns Leaving Religious Life," Syracuse Herald- Journal, 30 December 1981, p. A-3. 2"Seminary Enrollment Drops," National Catholic Register, 20 December 1981. 660 The Celibacy Experience / 661 just a crisis in celibacy. However. the internaliTation of celibacy must be seen as a key element in any discussion of the problem. In the first half of this article, i will raise the modern problems with celibacy and look at contemporary attempts to solve this crisis. In this first section, 1 will include such key issues as the essential relationship between mysticism and inter-nalized celibacy, the lack of support for young celibates, a critical look at current discussions about celibacy, and then the important issue of intimacy in a celibate life. In the second half, 1 will attempt to resolve the modern problems with celibacy by returning to the context of mysticism and positing an approach to the subject which is both existential and scriptural. Celibacy and Mysticism In The Psychology of Loving, Ignace Lepp says that the chastity of those consecrated to Christ must be "counterbalanced by a genuinely mystical life." If it is not, there is the risk of psychic damage: The libido cannot be channeled in a different direction without injury to sexuality unless it finds itself entirely consumed in the service of higher psychic activity? There must be, then, a necessary connection between celibacy and mysticism. In our use of the word here, "mysticism" does not refer to extraordinary phenome-na such as visions or locutions, nor does it refer to the highest states of union with God. Rather mysticism, here, means a "genuine though mediated experience of encounter and communication with the personal God."4 In this sense of mystical, the experience is direct and conscious, and it involves God as person. The experience is also mediated. The word mysticism derives from the Greek word mueo. which means to initiate (as into a "hidden" mystery). The mystery can be hidden under, or mediated by, any aspect of life. However, a preeminent place must be given to the classic Christian mediations--which include Scripture, prayer, tradition, and the sacraments--most of all the Eucharist. Hidden within our ordinary life experiences is the presence of Christ. The "mystical experience" is one in which this personal encounter becomes more and more conscious. This encounter becomes stronger as the years pass and celibacy is internalized. The mystical life allows the channeling of sexual and some emotional needs into "higher psychic activity" which results in a mature celibacy. On the other hand, if the mystical life is permitted to atrophy, then a mature celibacy, if not the entire celibate life, will suffer with it. William McNamara, in his latest work, Christian Mysticism: A Psychotheology, believes that the mystical life is indeed atrophying, despite some evidence to the contrary: Hgnace Lepp, The Ps.vchology of Loving. trans. Bernard B. Gilligan (New York: A Mentor Omega Book, 1963), p. 213. 4Karl Rahner, ed., Encyclopedia of Theology: 7he Concise Sacramentum Mundi (New York: A Crossroad Book, The Seabury Press, 1975), p. 1009. 662 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 It is obvious that we are presently witnessing a psychical revolution, one. in many respects. that has won the approval of science (biofeedback. body consciousness, metapsychiatry. neuroscience, paraphysics, etc.) and one that could, if properly guided, improve our human condition, and expand our human consciousness immeasurably. There is little evidence. however, that a spiritual-mystical renewal is going on. despite Vatican 11 and the subsequent changes in the Church.5 If McNamara is correct, celibacy will be lost. A truly internalized celibacy, that is, a mature celibacy, requires this mystical life. If celibacy does not become mystical, if it does not grow into a mystical vision, then "God's grace" alone will not uphold the celibate. Grace builds and makes possible an authentic Christian-mystical life; it is not a supernatural substitute for our humanity. Celibacy without mysticism may degenerate inlo mere asceticism, which would be ultimately self-destructive for lack of love. McNamara goes on to say that "man is naturally contemplative. But his mystical powers, left unexercised for so long, are seriously atrophied."6 This is a serious loss for all believers since it has a direct impact on the vitality of their faith and on the development of their full humanity. However, for the celibate in particular, this situation is fatal. With an atrophied mystical life, he is likely to reject celibacy for the sake of his "sanity": he will slowly die to ministry: or he will sublimate his sexual desires in non-productive ways. ls McNamara correct in saying that we have let our mystical powers atrophy and thus we have lost an internalized celibacy? The exodus of consecrated celibates points in that direction. At any rate, in the light of the past twenty years, we can slarely say that in the present state of crisis the depth of our commitment is being tested. In previous years it might have been possible to survive in celibacy by relying on secondary supports. Today it is just not possible. Within this crisis, celibates must develop a mature, internalized love of celibacy based first and fore'most on their own mystical vision and growing encounter with the risen Christ. The state of the Church and Western society makes this absolutely necessary. Little Support for Remaining in the Celibate State Our Western culture offers little support for celibacy. In fact, it is, in some ways, the most discouraging culture possible for a celibate. It ignores religion. Our culture is essentially a-Christian (without Christianity). It would be easier to main-tain a celibate commitment in a culture that is hostile to Christianity--as in the days of the early Christians. At least one could then take heart amidst persecution and 'join" on~self to a tightly knit community of brothers and sisters totally dedi-cated to Christ while fighting an obvious, common antagonist. But today's West-ern culture ignores religion and the celibate. Heroism is more difficult in the face of 5William McNamara, Christian Mysticism: A Psychotheology (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1981), p. 20. 61bid. p. 22. The Celibacy Experience disinterest than of hatred--and celibacy is a heroic life. It receives inspiration from a culture which applauds those who live it. And it flourishes when it is persecuted. But when it is ignored, it is most sorely tried. On a deeper level, however, it is not quite accurate to say that our culture is totally oblivious to Christianity. The words of the Gospel ring true: "He who is not with me is against me, and he who does not gather with me scatters" (Lk 1 !:23). In the final analysis, it is not possible to be neutral to the message of Christ. In whatever form it is presented, explicitly or implicitly, the message of salvation will either be accepted or rejected. Our culture is no exception. Underneath its appar-ent unconcern with Christianity is a subtle barrage of counter-invitations. There are constant overt and subliminal innuendos that cannot fail to tug and tug at the Christian's sexual drives. Our society manifests a sort of cultural passive-aggressive behavior, one that seems tolerant of Christianity but is subtly waging war on its norms. Without Christ, our society loses touch with its deepest need for meaning. According to psychiatrist Viktor Frankl: What is behind the emphasis on sexual achievement and power, what is behind this will to sexual pleasure and happiness is again the frustrated will to meaning. Sexual libido only hypertrophies in an existential vacuum. The result is an inflation of sex . 7 This "inflation of sex" in our society sorely tests the strongest of celibates. The uncommitted are likely to be entrapped. Not only does our culture attack the value of celibacy, new Western attitudes also undermine previous supports for the celibate. There is a new attitude towards authority and tradition: a child-like obedience is not acceptable to the modern mind. As Victor Frankl says, "in contrast to man in former times, he is no longer told by traditions and values what he should do.'~ Likewise, those in the Church accept less and less the fact of canon law and magisterial teaching as being reason enough for remaining celibate. This changing attitude towards authority and tradi-tion is encouraged by the great upheavals within the post-Vatican II Church. The opportunities within such a freedom are great, yet there is also a concomitant increase of danger. Within such a freedom celibates are required to make their commitment their own, with little support from the culture or Church tradition. Concomitant with this rejection of authority and tradition, there is a shift in our concepts, theologies and spirituality. Words such as obedience, sacrifice, ascet-icism and sin are used less frequently. A new model has been substituted which 1 will call the "human growth" model of spirituality. This modern growth-model uses existential concepts such as freedom, human development, holistic growth, and personal responsibility. It understands development in the spiritual life as growth in love and intimacy. It stresses the importance of psychology, self-knowl- 7Viktor E. Frankl, The Unconscious God: Psychotherapy and Theology (New York: Simon and Schuster. 1975), pp. 85-86. ~ Slbid., p. 91. 6 ~4 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 edge, wholeness and all that is authentically human. This model is no doubt a positive, legitimate step in the progress toward a twentieth-century spirituality. It reacts strongly against a previous tendency to reject humanity in favor of some angelic spirituality. Nonetheless, the model has serious shortcomings, e.g., a failure to relate a mature, self-sacrificing obedience to human freedom. And with the transition from earlier models of spirituality to the human growth model, a problem has developed in our theology of celibacy. On the basis of this model it is not so easy to provide an understanding of a celibate life. Love, marriage, children are all an integral part of what it means to be fully human. Without the sharing of the deepest levels of intimacy, as between husband and wife, it would seem that the human growth of.a celibate must be stunted. Our former theology had several ways of dealing with this lack of full intimacy for celibates. For example, repeating an oft-cited idea on celibacy, the Council Fathers of Vatican I1 stated that celibate priests thereby evoke that mysterious marriage which was established by God and will be fully manifested in the future, and by which the Church has Christ as her only spouse.9 There is a theological truth in these and similar statements, but to the modern mind they seem to mean little. How can a "mysterious marriage" deepen my intimacy? To some it sounds like "magical grace." Such theological categories do not mesh with the modern mind which thinks in terms of intersubjectivity, inti-macy, personal self-gift, loving response, and the importance of concrete, interper-sonal relationships for spiritual growth and for ushering in the kingdom of love and peace. This change in mentality requires a change in theology as well. Some New Approaches to Celibacy In Sacrarnentum Mundi Leonhard Weber says: In the formation of priests and in their further development, many of the supports of celibacy which were hitherto relied on will fall away, having proved themselves unreal or erroneous. They must no longer be appealed to. In their place theologically valid arguments must be used, and new aids which correspond to present realities.~0 Many modern spiritual men and women have grappled with the absence of such new arguments. They generously tried to rework an outdated theology of celibacy to correspond to the needs of today--with limited success. For example, much energy is going into showing that one's sexuality is not stunted by celibacy. This is done by making a distinction between the terms genital and sexual. This is a redefinition of categories according to which the word "genital" is applied to what was usually meant by the word "sexual," and then "sexual" in its broadest sense is taken to mean maleness or femaleness. Thus, modern reflection can say that the celibate is still a fully sexual being--but without genital expression. And so a nun could have a close relationship with a priest, and call it a "sexual" relationship-- 9Walter M. Abbott, gen. ed., The Documents of Vatican.H (Chicago: Follett Pub. Co., 1966), p. 566. ~°Sacramentum Mundi.p. 183. The Celibacy Experience / 665 but denying to it "genital" expression. This definition rightly admits that the celibate is not a neuter being but always remains truly male or female. And so at least it should help to keep celibates from attempting to become sexless angels. But however true the first step, saying "a celibate is still male or female," may be, the next statement, "a celibate is fully sexual but not genital," conveys mean-ings and values that are not as evidently proper. The latter statement blurs the important distini:tion there must be between male-female friendship and male-female romantic intimacy. Just as a married man may have female friends, a nun and priest may indeed be friends. But they may not have a romantic intimacy-- even if they do not engage in "genital" activity.~ The distinction between genital and sexual may do more harm than good if it becomes a permission to cross the line of prudence in relations between celibate men and women. Using the excuse that "our relationship is not genital" stems from a legalistic approach to celibacy which in turn endangers true friendship. In addition, any short-term benefits of the principle will be overshadowed by the further fact that it will only justify the kind of obsession with sexuality that is already present in the Church and in society. To focus on the sexuality of the celibate, in fact, obscures the true nature of celibate witness--which should be to point to the primacy of God's kingdom over passing, though good, temporal values. A better approach would distinguish between intimacy and celibacy more strictly. Modern thought in this area is trying to show that the celibate has the same opportunity for intimacy as the married person. This has become especially important in the light of the 1972 NORC study that found that the American priest in general is an "emotionally underdeveloped adult." This has been cause for alarm in the contemporary spiritual milieu which so closely associates spiritual development with human development. What is often forgotten, however, is that the study pointed out that this makes the priest "much like his fellow citizens on the scale of psychological growth" since the average American male also tested out as emotionally underdeveloped.~2 Nevertheless, this new area of reflection, the relationship between intimacy and celibacy, is also having very beneficial results. Celibacy cannot be used as an excuse for refusing to enter into deep human relationships, relationships that are often painful yet necessary for any human growth. Celibacy cannot be seen as representing an excessively other-worldly piety that shuns human affections as unworthy of a spiritual life. The 1971 Synod of Bishops recognized the importance of such human relations in the life of a celibate when it recommended "human balance through well-ordered integration into the fabric of social relationships: fraternal association and companionship with other priests and with the bishop."~3 ~See Paul Conner, "Friendship Between Consecrated Men and Women?" Review for Religious. Vol. 40 (Sept-Oct 1981), pp. 645-659. I:Ernest E. Larkin and Gerard T. Broccolo. eds., Spiritual Renewal of the American Priesthood (Wash. D.C.: U.S. Catholic Conference. 1973), p. I. 666 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 Pope Paul VI, in his letter, "Sacerdotalis Caelibatus, "likewise stressed the impor-tance of the celibate relations with the laity. In a moving section of his fatherly letter, Paul VI says: By their devoted and warm friendship [the laity] can be of great assistance to the Church's ministers since it is the laity . . . who are in a position, in many cases, to enlighten and encourage the priest . In this way the whole People of God will honor Christ. promising an assured reward to whoever in any way shows charity toward those whom he has sent (Mt 10:42).~4 In a similar way, the community of the individual religious must supply this same much-needed human warmth and intimacy. The 1980 Plenaria for the Sacred Congregation for Religious and for Secular Institutes stated that the religious community is itself a theological reality, and object of contemplation., it is of its nature the place where the experfence of God should be able to, in a special way, come to fullness and be communicated to others?5 There is no excessive supernaturalism here. The celibate is a person firmly planted on the earth and relating with others in a shared community life. Thus, this modern movement in spirituality which ties celibacy to human intimacy can make a positive but limited contribution to a new theology of celibacy, as well as to the humanity of celibates. But, like the distinction between genital and sexual, this attempt to show that the celibate can be as fully intimate as his married counterpart is not totally convincing. The approach may confuse as much as it helps--as, indeed, I think it has done. There is a qualitative difference between the human intimacy possible in a marriage and the :human intimacy permissible for a.celibate. Paul VI commented on this type of love: "And love, when it is genuine, is total, exclusive, stable and lasting."~6 A human marriage, in its final perfection, is such a close bond that "they are no longer two but one flesh" (Mr 19:6). For the celibate this is not permitted. A marriage relationship, if fully realized, has an exclusivity and a totality of self-giv'- ing which is just not available to the celibate. Indeed, if a celibate were to have such an exclusive relationship with another person, regardless of whether it was genital or not, he hardly could be considered celibate. The great witness of centuries of consecrated celibates must lead us to conclude that another kind of ultimate depth of intimacy is possible for a celibate. But our theology has not yet completely uncovered the depths of this celibate intimacy. Communion Is More Than Communication As the pro.blem of celibacy and intimacy and of other celibate issues continues ~31971 Synod of Bishops, The Ministerial Priesthood; Justice in the World (Wash. D.C.: U.S. Catholic Conference, 1972), p. 24. ~'~Pope Paul VI, Encyclical Letter on Priestly Celibacy--June 24, 1967 (Wash. D.C.: U.S. Catholic Conference), p. 39. ~S"The Contemplative Dimension of Religious Life," L'Osservatore Rornano, 26 January 1981, p. 14. ~6Paul VI, Encyclical Letter, p. 1 I. The Celibacy Experience / 667 to be discussed, the debate on the relevance of celibacy in the modern Church continues. This debate often swings between "lyrical panegyrics and one-sidedly negative criticism."~7 Part of the conservative faction believes that the priest must be celibate. No doubt such a vision of Church and faith would be shaken without a celibate priesthood, despite the tradition of the East. Thus, this position clings to such external forms for security--a need which is especially intense during the post-Vatican II upheavals in the Church. Some of the liberals, on the other hand, blame celibacy for destroying the humanity of priests and sisters--a fact which may have validity in a few cases but which glosses over the dynamic witness of a long history of celibacy within the Church. For example, one priest told me that if he ever started to "die" in the ministry he would get out. This is precisely the image some have of the pre-Vatican II Church. In their eyes, it was a church that so stressed an other-worldly piety that it killed the humanity of its people. This section of the liberal faction traces our celibate theology back to Greek philosophi-cal dualism which is said to dismiss worldly values and exalt spiritual ones: others trace celibacy back to Old Testament law which stated that sexual acts made one ritually impure. There are other ways theologians have accounted for our previous tradition of celibacy. The obvious way out is to maintain one's humanity through human intimacy. Seeing the emotional deadness and brokenness of some of their predecessors, many stress the importance of human'growth for spiritual development. Thus, the stress today is on celibate intimacy and communication. And there is a significant attempt within our religious houses to develop a community intimacy, often with good results. Certainly this is a good thing and should be continued. However, is community enough? Does it answer the heart of the problem? We communicate with others to achieve intimacy and wholeness. At times there is an almost compulsive need to lay ourselves bare in a search to maintain or recover our humanity. Admittedly, a certain amount of this is healthy and necessary for any human life, especially a celibate life. This mutual sharing, this intermediate level of intimacy will indeed help our humanity and thus our spirituality. But it is not the final answer, and it is becoming apparent that it is not enough for an authentic celibacy. Of itself, it does not lead to a mature celibacy. Psychiatrist Conrad Baars (who died last October) also believed there is too much communication and not enough communion. In his basic work, Feeling and Healing Your Emotions, he says: Interestingly. wherever members of a community--religious, prayer group, covenant--use the term [affirmation] most freely and glibly, there seems to be the least amount of true affirma-tion. Such places depress one with their bustling activity--planned togetherness, meetings. expected modes of behavior and participation, carefully scheduled recreation, etc, There seems little opportunity for just being--even less for being different or for wanting to be alone. Underneath the new freedom of behavior is often a hidden agenda of new co~7l'ormism . The sign of "new heart living" is communion; yet. there is still too much cornmunication to ~TSacramenturn Mundi. p. 181. 6611 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 permit communion and authentic being.~s This sort of excessive communication places a burden on friendships that such relationships should not, cannot carry. We are sharing more and more to satisfy the deepest Iongings of our heart, but in the final analysis we are in danger of silencing these longings with a mass of words and superficialities. In fact, such an approach is contrary to real humanity. To share everything easily actually reveals a lack of intimacy. The work of psychiatrist Viktor Frankl shows the nature of true intimacy: The quality of intimacy so characteristic of love is no less characteristic of religion. It is intimate in two senses: it is intimum in the sense of innermost, and second, it is, like love. protected by shame. Genuine religiousness, for the sake of its own genuineness, hides from the public . The mistake is often made of confounding such shame with neurotic inhibition. Shame. however, is a perfectly natural attitude.~'~ It is not normal nor is it healthy to share the deepest intimacies of love, or of faith, in a casual or even friendly way. To keep such things private, except from the most intimate of soul friends, or from one's spiritual director, is a normal and healthy action. It is a sign of true intimacy. Such an attitude maintains the sanctity of the human person. To violate this sanctity is a grievous affair. This violation would ultimately impair the growth of intimacy by destroying some of the conditions necessary for its growth, such as respect for the human person and the need for individual solitude. During a 1978 lecture to the Unione Internazionale dei Superiori Generali, Henri Nouwen commented on this close link between solitude and intimacy: Solitude leads us to a new intimacy with each other and makes us see our common task precisely because in solitude we discover our true nature, our true self, our true identity. That knowledge of who we really are allows us to live and work in community3o It is precisely this depth of intimacy which is the sign of a mature celibate and it is this depth which should enliven and nourish all the other relations a celibate has, just as the intimacy of marriage should ground and nourish the other relations a spouse has. Is Optional Celibacy the Answer? Optional celibacy seems to be emerging as the moderate position in the Church. For pastoral reasons, and in order to recognize cultural diversity, its concession may be required. This change would be theologically easy, given our present understanding of celibacy as distinct from, and not essential to, Orders. But this distinction, though affirmed in modern times, does not take fully into ISConrad Baars. Feeling and Healing Your Emotions (Plainfield, N.J.: Logos International, 1979), p. 221. ~gFrankl, Unconscious God, pp. 47, 46. 2°Henri J. M. Nouwen, "Solitude and Community," lecture presented to the Unione Internazionale dei Superiori Generali, 4 April 1978. p. 20. The Cefibacy Experience account the reality of the place of celibacy in the Latin Church. With the rise of historical and existential theologies, we are coming to a fuller understanding of the place of the whole human person in our theologizing. Thus, while celibacy is only a canonical duty, it figures as an important element in our "collective memory," or our "story," or again, our western Catholic "identity." Concepts that are appearing in the new theology should make us more hesitant to favor optional celibacy too quickly. Celibacy is more than just a discipline. Rather, it has been woven into our history and thus into our collective memories. In the midst of a Church already suffering a severe identity crisis, the impact of optional celibacy on our "story" should be carefully considered. In addition, a case could be made that in no time of history is celibacy more necessary than today. At first glance the statement seems absurd, but when placed into the total context of the times, when one observes the signs of the times, it gains in its appearance of truth. As stated earlier, our people are under a sexual siege by advertisers, movies, TV and other elements of society. In an age when people are trying harder and harder to become liberated from Christian sexual mores, we are becoming more and more enslaved to sex. Such is precisely the nature of sin and evil. It promises the opposite of what it gives. Our society has promised sexual liberation and has produced just the opposite. The value of celibacy as a sign that shows the relative value (while not negating its intrinsic goodness) of sex is never more needed. Also, given the unity of all in the Mystical Body of Christ, it has likewise been never more important for a few to persevere in the struggle against sexual license in a heroic way for its spiritual aid to all people who are struggling with sexual difficulties within their own vocations. Paul speaks of this union of all in Christ when he says to the Corinthians: "If one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; if one member is honored, all the members share its joy" (I Co 12:26). Nonetheless, the pressure is on the Vatican for optional celibacy. While such a compromise may be necessary, I doubt that it will truly alleviate the problem. (Perhaps rather than making celibacy optional, it would be more to the point for the Vatican to announce that marriage is mandatory for all priests and religious! Then when a select few would flee to the mountains and the deserts, there to listen more intently to the "still, small voice," and thus refuse to marry, these are the ones who should be ordained.) Compromise, while often necessary, can fall into tepid-ity, failing to see that, for the celibate, the Christian message is nothing if not radical. "I am Come to cast fire on the earth and what will 1 but that it be kindled" (Lk 12:49), or again, "But because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I will spew you out of my mouth" (Rv 3:16). Without such a radical, total commitment, there is no deep intimacy--for the celibate as well as for the married person. Deepest Intimacy Is in Mystery This intimacy is completed only in the deepest levels of the person. This depth is beyond the spoken word; it is beyond verbal communication. It can only be 670 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 called mystery--a mystery which marvelously opens itself up in the communion of love. Thus the depths of intimacy are experienced as mystery, and as love, for both the celibate as well as the married person. This is the deepest level of personal growth and the truest level of self-knowledge. Some commentators on this deepest level of the person have cited the efforts of Nietzsche. They say that Nietzsche saw this great depth which he called "nothing-ness" and yet he was a courageous man to continue to face his "nothingness" and carry on bravely. This may be courage but it also may be a disguised fear--a fear to really experience this "nothingness" or depth of mystery. Nietzsche stood at the brink of the ocean of mystery and summoned the courage to remain there and look. The Christian is called to go one step further--to dive in! Viktor Frankl put forth a similar idea using the image of a summit surrounded by fog: On his way to find the ultimate meaning of life, the irreligious man, as it were, has not yet reached the highest peak, but rather has stopped at the next to highest . And what is the reason the irreligious man does not go further? It is because he does not want to lose the "firm ground under his feet." The true summit is barred from his vision: it is hidden in the fog. and he does not risk venturing into it, into this uncertainty. Only the religious man hazards it.2~ This depth, this "diving into the ocean" or "climbing through the fog to the highest peak" is open to a married couple united in faith. Such an unspoken depth to their relationship allows the mystery of one to be opened and joined to the mystery of the other, the ocean of one to the ocean of the other. This mystery therefore cannot be opened by the effort of one; it requires two to open it. Love requires union, and this deepest mystery is a union of love. At first glance, this would seem to exclude the celibate because the necessary love is, recalling the words of Paul VI, "total, exclusive, stable and lasting." This love seems denied the celibate who has no partner! Within such a quandary, our theology of celibacy is too often opaque, making little sense to the modern person. We could foist the problem onto "grace," and thus expect a solution from some magical power to hold our humanity in abeyance until the end-times. But this would be a denial of the real nature of the Christian message and a misunderstand-ing of the true nature of grace. Christianity is not essentially a negative religion. If it denies, it does so only to affirm in a more profound way. If God asks for any sacrifice, it is only to return the gift a hundred-fold. And, it seems to me, this is the problem with which modern thought on celibacy must deal--a problem that is especially difficult to solve if we use the growth model of spirituality. Celibacy and Theological Distancing To this point, we have merely opened up several problems in our theologies of celibacy. There seems to be a real difficulty in relating the depths of intimacy and celibacy, despite some modern attempts to do so. The older approaches with their 2~Frankl, Unconscious God. pp. 55-56. The Cefibacy Experience / 671 reliance on grace threaten to skip over our true humanity. What is perhaps lacking in both approaches, what may be largely responsible for the crisis in celibacy today, is a proper starting point. An accumulation of theologizing and reflection has developed an elaborate theological understanding of celibacy, but may have lost contact with its simple yet radical starting point. Paul Ricoeur's warning of cultural distancing may apply to our case: Cultural distance is not only the altering of the vehicle, but also the forgetting of the radical question conveyed by the language of another time. It is necessary to undertake, therefore, a struggle against the.forgetting of the question, that is. a struggle against our own alienation in relation to what operates in the question?2 We may, indeed, have forgotten the "radical question" which underlies the very existence of celibacy. This question must come as an existential question which demands a radical human response. The existential question involves an expe-rience that gives rise to the unusual phenomenon of celibacy. This experience I call the celibacy experience. Theological reflection can help make this experience understandable. It can explain its fruits and it can even help prepare someone for it. But theological reflection cannot impart the experience itself. Celibacy must spring from an expe-rience which begets a radical and total response. In the experience, a radical question is asked, and a radical answer must be given--though the response will have to grow in actualization with time. What we need is an existential model of celibacy, one that starts with human experience. This model must be able to address the concepts of intimacy and humanity in a convincing way. These concepts, though, can only be understood when viewed in the light of the beginning section of this article, when we wrote of mysticism, the internalization of celibacy, and higher psychic functions. An,"Existential Scriptural Approach To find such an existential approach, it is necessary to cut through centuries of cultural and theological distancing and return to Scripture. But our approach should not be to use Scripture. in the usual way of the conventional theologies of celibacy. In these approaches, citations are made of such Pauline passages as: The virgin--indeed any unmarried woman--is concerned with things of the Lord. in pursuit of holiness in body and spirit. The married woman, on the other hand, has the cares of this world to absorb her. , (I Co 7:34). Or again, To those not married and to widows, I have this to say: h would be well if they remain as they are. even as I do myself: but if they cannot exercise self-control, they should marry (I Co 7:8-9). These and other such passages, though, are not the celibacy experience itself, a-'Paul Ricoeur, "The Language of Faith," in Charles Reagan and David Steward, eds. The Philosophy of Paul Ricoeur (Boston: Beacon Press, 1978), p. 224. 672 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 but only reflections on the experience. It is the mystical encounter with God in Christ that results in these inspired theological reflections. Paul's embrace of the life of consecrated celibacy stemmed primarily from his encounter with Christ. He refers to his own celibacy experience: Am I not free? Am I not an apostle? Have I not seen Jesus our Lord? And are you not my work in the Lord? (1 Co 9:1). To the community at Corinth, Paul claims a direct vision of Jesus which grounds his apostolate; it drives him almost compulsively: Yet preaching the gospel is not the subject of a boast; I am under compulsion and have no choice. 1 am ruined if I do not preach it! (I Co 9:16; see 2 Co 5:14). This experience of Paul was not really one experience, but many: "I must go on boasting, however useless it may be, and speak of visions and revelations" (2 Co 12:!). It is only in the light of such experiences that Paul's celibacy makes any sense. He saw everything else as being of secondary importance compared to his being "grasped by Christ" (Ph 3:i2). Paul says, even more forcefully, "1 have come to rate all as loss in the light of the surpassing knowledge of my Lord Jesus Christ" (Ph 3:8). And it is precisely in this light that Paul recommends celibacy as being a way to devote oneself fully to the things of the Lord--just as it was for him. The authority and very existence of his apostolate depended on these experiences, and they became such a driving force in his life that celibacy was a result of it. Traditional celibacy-literature also quotes a passage from the Gospel of Matthew: Some men are incapable of sexual activity from birth: some have been deliberately made so; and some there are who have freely renounced sex for the sake of God's reign. Let him accept this teaching who can (19:12). This teaching, which supplies the theory to Paul's practice, focuses on celibacy "for the sake of God's reign." Notice again that there is no attempt to show that one should be celibate because Christ was, or that celibacy reflects the marriage of Christ with the Church, or even that celibacy is good because one is more effective for ministry. These are all later theological reflections, no matter how true they may be. They do not ground anyone's celibacy. The),' are not the celibacy expe-rience. Rather, as the Matthean Gospel points out, marriage is renounced "for the sake of God's reign." The passage implies that there is a direct experience of the reign of God. Otherwise, it would be impossible to dedicate oneself to it. In fact, the reign of God became a direct reality in the lives of many of those early Christians, enough of a reality to cause them to renounce a fundamental of human life--marriage. This, then was a powerful experience. This in-breaking of the reign of God is an eschatological experience. It is an in-breaking of the eschaton, or last times, into people's lives. Paul's experience was also truly an eschatological one since in his vision he saw the risen Christ who is himself the Reign of God. This is precisely what a mystical experience is, although it can take many different forms. It is an in-breaking of the eschaton, the reign of The Celibacy Experience / 673 God, the risen Christ into people's lives. There is no mysticism without eschat-ology-- an eschatology that proclaims that the kingdom is already present among us, though in a hidden way. Eschatological Fervor And such an eschatological, mystical experience totally changes one's life. It creates such a powerful force and conversion that it can make one cry out, as it did with Paul, "I am ruined if 1 do not preach [the Gospel]." With this conversion comes a new vision--a mystical vision. This experience gives rise to an eschatolog-ical fervor which makes it easy to believe that the end is at hand. Such was often the case with the prophets who, upon experiencing the greatness of God, saw the depths to which God's creation had fallen, and they cried out for repentance, claiming that God's just punishment was near. In the book of Isaiah, for example, the prophet has a vision of the temple of the Lord. He is overwhelmed with the holiness and power of God while the seraphim cry out, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts. ! All the earth is filled with his glory!" (6:3). Isaiah immediately felt his own sinfulness in the face of such holiness: "Woe is me, I am doomed! For 1 am a man of unclean lips, living among a people of unclean lips"(6:5), lsaiah's new vision of the holiness of God and the sinfulness of the people leads to his message of the imminent destruction of Israel by God: "lf there be still a tenth part in it, then this in turn shall be laid waste" (6:13). It was in this same eschatological fervor that Paul believed the kingdom of God to be an imminent reality: I tell you. brothers, the time is short. From now on those with wives should live as though they had none: those who weep should live as though they were not rejoicing: buyers should conduct themselves as though they owned nothing, and those who make use of the world as though they were not using it. for the world as we know it is passing away (I Co 7:29-3 I). This eschatological fervor was the result of Paul's experience of the risen Christ. This was a mystical experience which resulted in a new vision of life, a mystical vision. However, it is obvious to us, and even Paul came to understand, that the time is not short. Two thousand years have passed and Christ has still not come in his glory. But to take this approach, that is, to discount the fervor of the early Christians because their belief in the imminence of the second coming proved to be wrong, is to miss the significance of their times, and the truth of their experience. The early Christians experienced the reign of God breaking into their lives. They were baptized in the Spirit and such a baptism was at times a mystical experience which produced this eschatological fervor. As it is recorded in the Acts of the Apostles: The Holy Spirit came upon [the Gentiles]. just as it had upon us at the beginning. Then I remembered what the Lord had said: "John baptized with water but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit" II 1:15-16). They may have misinterpreted this mystical vision, this new perception of reality: they may have believed that Christ was coming soon. But this is often the case with intense mystical experiences. St. John of the Cross spoke of these 674 / Review for Religious. Sept.-Oct., 1982 dangers with extraordinary mystical experiences; they are often interpreted on too concrete a level, when they are intended for a higher, more spiritual plane. Perhaps this was the case with the early Christians. They experienced the closeness of Christ and his kingdom. The words of Jesus were passed along to them which pointed to his coming, and they may have interpreted such signs literally. Regardless of the reason for their mistaken view of the second coming, we should not dismiss their eschatological fervor because of it. This fervor is the proper response, just as it was for Amos: The lion roars who will not be afraid: the Lord God speaks who will not prophesy? (Am 3:8). It was this fervor that contained within it the phenomenon of celibacy. Without this experience, celibacy makes little sense. Later theological reflection can try to explain the celibate state, as Paul tried to do, but it cannot recreate the experience itself. But what happens when the fervor wears off'? Paul began to realize that he, too, might die before Christ comes again. The initial celibacy experience that gave rise to the fervor for the reign of God and caused the early Christians to renounce marriage can fade as the years wear on. What does the modern mistress of novices do with her charges once the initial fervor of vocation begins to wane, as it always does? It is then that moderns begin to wonder about their humanity. Will celibacy kill it? The earlier mystical vision fades, and the reality of celibacy as a loneliness without spouse, sex and family presses on the celibate. The stress on intimacy today makes it even more difficult, and there are plenty of TV shows and adver-tisements to remind the celibate of what he is missing. Celibate Intimacy With Christ This initial fervor must be followed by a desert experience, an absence of fervor, as mystical theology points out. But it is precisely within this period of dryness that the mystical vision is secretly growing. It is then that youthful fervor must yield to a new experience that reaches deeper into the person. This new experience is reflected best in the Gospel of John, "the disciple whom Jesus loved": A third time Jesus asked him, "Simon. son of John, do you love me?" Peter was hurt because he had asked a third time, "Do you love me?" So he said to him: "Lord, you know everything. You know well that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Feed my sheep" (21:17). In these spiritual reflections of John's Gospel do we see hinted at a deeper intimacy with Christ. The servant, and friend becomes lover and beloved. Thus we see introduced a new element: the love of Christ. The compulsion to preach is giving way to a deeper relationship with Christ, a relationship of love. The ground of Peter's ministry is this love of Christ. The early eschatological fervor has to give way to this intimate love of Christ, The Celibacy Experience / 675 and this is only possible because Jesus first offers his love. When he asks Peter if he loves him, iris implied that Jesus is first offering his love, and is asking if Peter will respond. Such is the existential approach of Scripture: God offers through Christ, and we must respond. Peter did respond, to the fullest extent. He had exclaimed to Jesus: "We have put aside everything to follow ~,ou!" To this Jesus replied: I give you my word, there is no one who has given up home, brothers or sisters, mother or father, children or property for me and for the gospel who will not receive in this present age a .,hundred times as many homes, brothers and sisters, mothers, children and property--and persecution besides--and in the age to come, everlasting life (Mk 10:28-30). This earlier response of youthful fervor should grow into a mature love. "Although you have never seen him, you love him" (1 P 1:8). Such an unseen love, then, is directly connected with faith. There can be no love of an unseen object unless faith prepares the way. It is the youthful fervor and the later desert expe-riences which produce a faith strong enough to support such a love. It is a faith offer and response of love. This does not make the offer and response, nor the love, any less real. The reign of God has come among us. Christ is still offering the love of God in a real though hidden way. The radical question which underlies the mature celibate experience is still being asked: "Do you love me?" This is real grace--not magical grace. God, in Christ, offering himself to the world--Person to person. Grace is the theological concept which denotes this real exchange within human history. If, as Paul VI said, there must be "a wise sublimation of the psychological life on a higher plane," it is because our sublimation and needs will be met within human history; God's kingdom has come!23 Though we cannot see the object of our exchange, this exchange is nonetheless real. Such is the nature of a faith-love. It is only within such a faith-love context that we can understand the true nature of celibate intimacy. In this offer and response with Christ, the celibate should eventually come to experience, either explicitly or implicitly, the deepest level of love and intimacy, recalling, the words of Paul VI: "Love, when it is genuine, is total, exclusive, stable and lasting." The mature celibate, the one who has internalized his call, has come to respond in this total and exclusive way to Christ. Such is the total self-gift in a marriage; such, too, is the total self-gift in the intimacy of the celibate. It is no accident, then, that later mystical theology came to describe such a relationship as a "spiritual marriage." It is a relationship~ which includes the deepest union. Yet this total and exclusive intimacy between the celibate and Christ does not exclude other relationships. In fact, it depends on other human relationships to make it possible. At the same time, celibate intimacy provides the possibility for the full fruition of these other relationships. However, one cannot completely identify one's intimacy with Christ, with the intimacy one has with others. And without a real intimacy with Christ, these other relationships tend to become 2~Paul VI, Encyclical Letter, p. 22. 676 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 warped, possessive and destructive. Such an intimacy grows out of the celibate experience. It is not something that is once and for all, but a chain of real encounters that renew and strengthen the individual's original response to the radical question, "Do you love me?" The original, novitiate, eschatological fervor is transformed and strengthened in the desert. Fervor is exchanged for love, and the compulsion to preach is exchanged for peace. The celibate experience is, then, a growing life-experience in and with Christ. It is not necessarily a "Mystical" (big "M") experience, some kind of extraordinary revelation--such as those of Paul who saw the face of Christ. Rather, the celibate experience is a "mystical" (small "m") experience. It is a direct encounter with Christ in which the radical question of love is asked, but it is an encounter that is hidden within the ordinary. McNamara sees that this immediacy of mysticism is nonetheless mediated: It is God whom mystical knowledge perceives immediately and experientially in the historic revelation of Christ~ the sacramental life, and the ecclesiastical organism. It is not contradic-tory to unite indissolubly the immediacy of mystical knowledge to all the Christian mediations.24 Thus the celibate in today's world must be a mystic but not necessarily a Mystic. This mystical relationship, of course, remains beyond words; it is beyond clear, verbal definitions. In it the mystery of God touches the mystery of the human person, and in this touch, the depths of the human person are opened, and he attains to a vision of reality that is mystical. Do You Love Me? It is this experience and the resulting vision which ground the celibate's aposto-late. The celibacy experience, which eventually grows into a total response to the radical question, "Do you love me?" provides the charter and gives life to his or her ministry. Without this growing intimacy with Christ, the celibate's ministry is without an anchor and will drift with every theological and psychological breeze that comes along. Again, McNamara has an excellent insight: People are fed and sustained by a mystical theology; they are amused and confused by any other. Yet they are being led thoughtlessly from one vogue to another. It's so tempting to be faddish, accommodating; to leave our solitary, silent stance before the source of wisdom and become washed out in the 'sauce~ of endless meetings, parties~ dialogues, lectures, conventions.2~ Without a mystical vision the celibate is unlikely to remain celibate for long. Any ministry without a mystical vision is liable only to "amuse and confuse" the people. The people thirst for Christ. It is the authentic Christ they need, yet the temptation is always to grasp false messiahs, even though with the best of inten- 2'~McNamara, Christian Mysticism, p. 16. ~lbid., p. 24. The Celibacy Experience / 677 tions. Mother Teresa wrote a note that said: "Pray for me that 1 do not loosen my grip on the hand of Jesus, even under the guise of ministering to the poor.''~6 Even such a great ministry as serving the poor can become a false messiah without an intimate relationship with Christ. The time has come for Catholic celibates to renew their primary identity as Christians. It is only in a life centered on Christ that true celibate intimacy is realized. It is only thus that liberals, conservatives and moderates can become what the Gospel calls for--radical lovers. And without a radical response to the love of Christ there is no mysticism, and thus no internalized celibacy. The way is not easy. Though the kingdom has already come into the world, it remains hidden. The eschaton is not fully realized in human history. A celibate's relationship with Christ will reflect this incompleteness during this life. Just as "all creation groans and is in agony even until now" (Rm 8:22), the celibate's life must also have many moments of groaning, and a longing for the final fulfillment of God's kingdom. The call of Christ is again sweeping the world: "Do you love me?" Fewer are left: fewer are responding. But there are enough. There is enough leaven for the entire lump of dough to rise. And for the remnant that is left: No more shall men call you ~For~ken," or your land "Desolate," But you shall be called "My Delight." and your land "Espoused.". As a young man marries a virgin, your Builder shall marry you: and as a bridegroom rejoices in his bride so shall your God rejoice in you (Is 62:4-5). -'~'Phyllis Theroux. "'Amazing Grace: Mother Teresa Comes to Calcutta." Washhzgton Post Magazine, 18 October 1981. p. 30. Preparing for the 1983 Synod Stephen Tutas, S.M. In explaining his point in writing this article, Fr. Tutas states: "As a member of the 1980 Synod, I am well aware that the success of the General Assembly depends to a great extent on how well participants reflect the mind of the Church throughout the world." This article simply draws attention to the ~'neamenta published by the General Secretariate of the Synod. Father Tutas, Superior General of the Society of Mary (Marianists) 1971-1981, is presently Director of the Marianist Formation Center; P.O. Box AC; Cupertino, CA 95015. Immediately after the 1980 Synod of Bishops, preparation began for the 1983 Synod. After a lengthy process of consultation, Pope John Paul II designated "Reconciliation and Penance in the Mission of the Church" as the theme for the Sixth General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops which will be held in 1983. The General Secretariate of the Synod then prepared an initial presentation of the theme and sent this to the National Conferences of Bishops for their personal study. This first document is a fifty-four page study in the English edition pub-lished by the Vatican Polyglot Press this past January. The purpose of the docu-ment is "to stimulate reflection in the local churches, to receive information, advice and useful suggestions for the future synodal discussion; to provoke, as soon as possible, a movement of spirits and of prayer which disposes souls to the metanoia which is at the root of the synodal theme." For all these reasons it is very important for religious to take an active interest in the coming synod. It is interesting to note that the General Secretariate is encouraging wide consultation by stating that the publication of this first document "is without limits and not reserved." After analyzing the feedback from this first document, the General Secretariate will later issue a more extensive working paper. As religious we cannot afford to be passive as the preparation for the 1983 Synod moves forward. While the members of the synod have the responsibility of reflecting the mind of the Church throughout the world as they participate in the synod, the rest of us have the responsibility to study the theme of the synod as 678 Preparing for the 1983 Synod thoroughly as we can so that we can be well prepared to enter into the movement promoted by its celebration. Accordingly, in the hope of stimulating further reflection in preparation for the 1983 Synod, I would like to offer some thoughts about the theme that are prompt-ed by my personal study of the initial document. The theme of Reconciliation and Penance in the Mission of the Church was selected from among many topics suggested for the Sixth General Assembly. Towards the close of the 1980 Synod there was a brief.discussion about possible themes for the 1983 sessions. Among the issues mentioned at that time was the Sacrament of Penance. After further consultation, this particular theme was even-tually developed into the much more comprehensive topic that is outlined in this document issued by the General Secretariate. As presented, the theme touches many other topics that had also been proposed as possible themes, such as youth, the Christian laity, the identity of the Church following the changes effected by Vatican I1, the evaluation of liturgicalrenewal, popular piety, spirituality, Catholic education, the training of priests, the role of bishops in the Church, ecclesiology, the future. The study of Reconciliation and Penance in the Mission of the Church can also be viewed in relation to previous synods--especially justice in the world, evangelization in the modern world and catechetics, and of course, it has many implications for the mission of the Christian family in the modern world. The theme echoes many of the concerns expressed in pontifical documents of recent years. Among these, it is significant to recall Pope Paul VI's statement for the World Day of Peace, 1975: "Reconciliation, the Way to PeAce." The synod study is also related to the encyclical letter of Pope John Paul II, "On the Mercy of God" that was published shortly after the last synod. What I find especially attractive about the coming synod is that it is being ¯ presented as a development of the great themes of the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World. Throughout the synoddocument there are remind-ers that this topic is not to be considered solely in terms of baptized Catholics, but that it is a topic of great importance "for all who seek meaning to existence." This theme is of great importance for the quality of the Christian life; it is also meaning-ful for the world in general. I found the intent of the initial document to speak a message of hope to the modern world very heartening. There is no denial of the injustice in the world today and in the hearts of so many people. The section describing this is particu-larly well expressed. The document speaks of the reality of today's world in contrast to our understanding of God's plan for us and our own response to this plan in our efforts to build a better world. Given the wars, violence, terrorism of our time, the conclusion is that the dominant characteristic of our era seems to have become that of tensions and divisions. It would be quite easy to give in to the feelings of helplessness in the face of the complexity of the problems facing us today. But it is quite clear from the document that the great expectation is that the synod itself will speak a message of hope to the Church and to the world. 61~1~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 Much of the theme deals with the basic human need for personal reconciliation with God, with each other, and with ourselves. But what impressed me above all was the emphasis given to the promotion of justice and peace in the world through the call to reconciliation and penance. The document suggests that the synod face the complex reality of tensions and divisions in the world today with confiderlce that there is an answer. We Christians cannot lose hope. In recognizing that the Church is the sacrament of reconciliation, the Church has a new understanding of its pastoral mission in the modern world. 1 am also intrigued by the proposed study of the meaning of change in our lives. The word penance used in the synod document is meant to include the meaning of repentance, understood as conversion. The synod topic offers us an opportunity to focus on the change of mind and heart that Vatican II called for, and on the continual change to which we are called as Christians. The appeal to conversion understood as a change of direction, return, practical change in the way of living, interior change of mentality, metanoia, is clearly and forcefully pre-sented. The Church is seen as "holy and formed of sinners," holy, but always in need of being purified, incessantly pursuing the path of penance and renewal. The message of hope that Christians are called to proclaim in today's world is God's love for his people. It is God who forgives and liberates in order to reconcile all men and women to himself, with each other, with all creation. The dream of a new creation is once again proclaimed, a new creation where there is interior unity and true liberty, where there is a new relationship with other men and women, a new human community founded on justice, a new sense of God living and working in history. The General Secretariate of the Synod, in publishing this first document in preparation for the 1983 Synod, insists that the statements made are "provisional in character and limited and thus it would be useless to make a critique of them or to attempt to perfect the text." But it is an invaluable starting point for all of us as we prepare for the 1983 Synod. From Tablet to Heart: Internalizing New Constitutions--II Patricia Spillane, M.S. C Our last issue carried the first part of this article. In the current issue, Sister Patricia concludes her study of the process of internalization. Sh'e continues to reside at the convent of the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart: 428 St. James Place: Chicago; IL 60614. ~n Part I of this article, we considered how to live more authentically the life we proclaim: i.e., how can our constitutions be planted deep within us, written on our hearts (see Jr 3 !:33)? We reflected on our attitudes toward these constitutions, and on ourselves as the source of attitudinal decisions--spiritually, philosophically, psychologically. If nothing else, by now we should have arrived at an appreciation for the complexity of the problem: that arriving at a true internalization of what is written calls indeed for foundations of rock, and that much labor and struggle are required to build over that! Everyone who comes to me and listens to my words and acts on them., is like the man who, when he built his house, dug, and dug deep, and laid the foundations on rock: when the river was in flood, it bore down on that house but could not shake it, it was so well built (Lk 6:47-49). In the following pages, I will try to indicate some directions which could aid in this foundation-setting for interiorization within religious communities. Of their nature, such foundations are conceptual and theoretical, the underpinnings from which must proceed programs of action once the principles have been clarified. Such foundations need to reflect adequately our reality, a reality that is at one and the same time spiritual, anthropological and psychological. Efforts at internaliza-tion will be hampered without such an integration. Premises already exist in each of these areas since Christianity has been propos-ing such principles for centuries. Respective constitutions incorporate these and give them a unique flavor. 681 61~2 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 But we each have our own concepts of, and attitudes toward theology, philo-sophy and psychology, both conscious and unconscious. We need to examine our own assumptions in these areas to see how they contrast with what we are called to. Furthermore, with clear premises and principles we can better grasp still further implications: where do we go from here? We can move more securely from the theoretical to the concrete, both individually and collectively, without haphazard experimentation and without facile reaching for faddist solutions. A. Theological Foundations The very word foundation conjures up something solid, firm, lasting, not the ephemeral, fantastic, passing. It is obvious that any theological foundation for the internalization of Christian living must have indeed "Christ Jesus himself for its main cornerstone" (Ep 2:20), the Christ of revelation and of the gospels, as pro-claimed by the Church. What is needed is a theology that integrates both the transcendent and the incarnational, both vertical and horizontal dimensions, both interior life and exterior action. Consequently, we are talking about a Christologi-cal, ecclesial foundation of objective, revealed values that are both normative and attractive, values that can propose objective and inspiring criteria with which we can collectively and individually evaluate and challenge ourselves. Our vision of God must begin with the God of revelation and Scripture, as authentically reflected to us down through the ages by the Church and sacred tradition. Equally essential to this theological vision is its concept of our humanity called to a unique relationship with our Creator as the peak of creation, elevated to unimaginable new possibilities in Christ, yet withal vulnerable and capable of betraying our Creator and Savior. Called to respond, we are still" free to say "no." Therefore, the triplet of grace, sin and concupiscence can never be overlooked (more will be said along this line in the anthropological section below). Such a theology will see the spiritual life as the arena of interaction between nature and grace, the call to personal and enduring transcendence in the name of Christ that begins with baptism and reaches its fulfillment in the Beatific Vision. Such free cooperation with grace is at one and the same time the highest activity to which we are called, that which makes us most truly human and that which ultimately brings us true self-fulfillment as a result of our self-transcendence. However, we do not incarnate such principles in a vacuum. We live in a world of increasing theological pluralism, of the rapid dissemination and impassioned defense of new ideologies--in short, in a world of theological ferment where discernment, critical thinking, and a clear vision of the fundamentals are more essential than ever. As Christians and religious, we must be able to sift and see in what way our, theological thinking may have been infiltrated by certain current trends which can bias and distort the foundation for our attitudinal decision. Discerning Theological ,Trends A group of Christian theologians (including Avery Dulles, S.J.) from nine denominations engaged themselves in precisely this kind of sifting a few years ago From Tablet to Heart in Hartford, Connecticut, resulting in the clarification and designation of thirteen pervasive ideas which they considered to be "false and debilitating."t 1 have grouped some of these into three areas so that it will be apparent how an ade-quately integrated theological foundation implies a counter-cultural stance that is in opposition to each of them. I. Religious language refers to human experience and nothing else, God being humanity's noblest creation . Jesus can only be understoo~l in terms of contemporary models of humanity . An emphasis on God's transcendence is at least a hindrance to, and perhaps incompatible with, Christian social concern and action. Here is clearly seen the polarization of a theology of the supernatural with the theology of secular humanism. According to the latter, "man and world have in themselves an ultimate value'~--a prime example of Frankl's objec!ification of persons and subjectification of values mentioned in Part 1, with the result that we must become our own source of meaning, and evaluate ourselves by subjective criteria. This subjectivism, in turn, gives rise to experientialism: lacking objective guidelines, we can only use our emotions to ratify our experience. God's existence is inferred from subjective religious experience. That which should be effect becomes, instead, the cause of belief and the fountainhead of religion. Von Bal-thazar's comments are appropriate here: It is not that man has to have an experience of God: it is more that God

Issue 40.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1981. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1981 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A.: $9.00 a year; $17.00 for two years. Other countries: $10.00 a year; $19.00 for two years. For subscriplion orders or change of address, write: REVIFW I:OU RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Jeremiah L. Alberg, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor May/June, 1981 Volume 40 Number 3 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW RELtGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's University; City Avenue at 54th St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVII-:w for RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. The Feel of Apostolic Contemplation-in- Action David J. Hassel, S.J. Father Hassel's earlier article, "The Fourth Level of Prayer: Mystery," appeared in the November, 1980 issue. The present article is also a chapter from his projected book on prayer. Father's address is: Jesuit Community; Loyola University; 6525 N. Sheridan Rd.; Chicago, IL 60626. To contemplate is to see a thing or an event or a person as a whole. It is to grasp the totality of a situation and then to let wonder rise, deep fears and hopes surface, the fire of ambition be kindled, and the still-point of one's being touched. Thus contemplation not only views wholeness but also begins to instill it in the contemplator, an experience much needed in our fragmenting times. Persons lacking commitment to focus their energies, families lacking the love to heal their wounds, and nations lacking noble purpose to render them united--all need contemplation as much as the thirsty and starving need drink and food.' Now the power of contemplation appears in theaction which it structures and directs. Thus contemplation-in-action not only carries appreciation for the whole of a situation and thus renders the contemplator more wholesome but also enters into the very situation contemplated to make it more wholesome. For this reason, the more active a person is and the more deeply he or she interacts with others, the more important becomes contemplation for this person's every action. Indeed, the more explicitly tThis thirst and hunger for the meaning and wholeness of life is eloquently and poignantly record-ed in Studs Terkel's interviews with people from all walks of life. His contemplative book, Work-ing (Avon, New York, 1975, pp. xiii-xv) discovers "the happy few who find a savor in their daily job," and the many whose discontent is hardly concealed: 321 322 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 aware we become of contemplation-in-action within our experience, the better we can promote it in ourselves and in others for the healing of our wounded world. But, as always, difficulties arise which keep us from recognizing contem-plation- in-action and from living it more deeply within our experience. First of all, one can observe with envy the high intensity of secular contemplation in the action of artist or business person and can then expect this same intensity to occur within one's own religious contemplation-in-action. False expecta-tions always result in discouragement. Secondly, because monastic people do much of the writing about contemplation, one can mistake monastic contemplation for the apostolic type more characteristic of lay people, diocesan clergy, and active religious orders. Again, confusion here can dissipate religious energies. A third problem connected with recognizing contemplation-in-action is that the latter is an awareness permeating all one's activities. Therefore, it cannot be exposed by merely lifting off one or other layer of experience, nor be isolated by tracing its roots in one particular activity. Consequently--and this is the fourth difficulty--contemplation-in-action will express itself in a great variety of modes as it appears at diverse levels of experience and in different activities, even though it may be a single pervasive attitude. As a result, a person may be lamenting his or her failure at contemplation-in-action while unknowingly practicing it with some success. Perhaps the following exploration2 of these four problems may yield some inkling of what contemplation-in-action is and some recognition of how the contemplative-in-action feels. This, in turn, could be the source of new satisfaction in one's life, perhaps even the beginning of a certain settled happiness. Religious Contemplation-in-Action Out of the Secular The first problem facing us is the confusion of secular with religious contemplation-in-action--an understandable mistake since the first naturally leads into the second. Like all forms of contemplation-in-action, the secular variety discovers and promotes remarkable wholeness in the contemplator and in the object contemplated. For example, the portrait-artist, while center-ing her consciousness intensely upon the child to be painted, tends to fall in love with the latter as feeling and insight blend gradually into the beautiful whole of the portrait and of the person portrayed. The craftsman, too, is fascinated as the pitcher, shaping under his hands at the potter's wheel, is lifted out of the clay in a blend of graceful shape with smooth pouring. The 2I am greatly indebted to Vincent Towers, S.J., James Maguire, S.J. and Donald Abel, S.J. for their detailed comments on the rough drafts of this article, to Mrs. Mary Ellen Hayes for advice and technical assistance, to Dr. Julia Lane for expert encouragement, to the Warrenville (!11.) Cenacle community for their helpful.suggestions. Contemplation-in-Action / ~2~ novelist also shares in this disciplined joy of secular contemplation-in-action. Saul Bellow could not have given us Herzog, nor J. D. Salinger presented us with Holden Caulfield of The Catcher in the Rye, unless each had gone through a period of 'possessed aloofness' while in his imagination he watched and chronicled the full-bodied development of Herzog or Holden out of a vast variety of detailed activities. In the artist or craftsman or novelist, then, one witnesses the power of secular contemplation-in-action for producing that beautiful whole which delights the artist's own heart and the hearts of all beholders. But such contemplation-in-action is not limited to the sphere of the arts. Watch parents playing with their firstborn child and note their total concen-tration on eliciting new responses from it. As the child slowly unfolds before their eyes during its first twenty-four months, they become ever more dedicated to educating it to beautiful soundness of body, mind, and emotions. If this is not contemplation-in-action, what is? In a similar way, the neurosurgeon, carefully and even exultantly applying his previous week's study of X rays, medical research, and techniques to a brain operation, also experiences this contemplation-in-action as he restores wholesome life to his patient. So, too, the lawyer contemplates-in-action when she manages to see her way through the myriad details of a personal injury suit towards those underlying legal principles which will structure for her a forceful, tight case on behalf of her client, Nor is the business person without contemplation-in-action when intense ambition is painting a new vision and directing precise lines of energy to effect this vision. The resultant business organization is a daring orchestration of people and processes brought to total life for the wholesome delight of the business person's mind and heart and for the good of the community. Evidently, then, secular contemplation-in-action operates within any work, artistic or scientific, speculative or practical, to produce wholesomeness in both the contemplator and the action-situation. Explicitly, each of us has, in some way, experienced these types of secular contemplation-in-action and implicitly we compare their qualities with those of our own religious contemplation-in-action--to the depreciation of the lat-ter. Each of us asks in guilt: "Where in my religious contemplation-in-action is the intense centering, the fascinated.vision, the possessed aloofness, the total concentration and dedication, the exultant application to life, the deep satisfaction in wholeness, and the intense ambition of secular contemplatives-in- action?" Why should not the religious contemplative-in-action be \ discouraged--especially if he equates secular and religious contemplation-in-action and does not know that they are meant to nourish each other reciprocally and precisely out of their difference. To understand their respec-tive differences, let us consider how they cooperate. Religious contemplation-in-action completes the secular. For the wholes of self and of object discovered by secular contemplation-in-action take on fuller meaning and larger value witfiinthe more comprehensive wholes of the 324 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 everyday world and of God as these are found by religious contemplation-in-action. A dynamic reciprocity operates here between the two types of contemplation-in-action. As the secular contemplative-in-action (artist, business person, parent, neurosurgeon, or lawyer) enters more deeply into the object to find its wholeness, he becomes more aware of his personal wholeness since the intense concentration on the object demands full awareness of his powers. But such total awareness of object and of self eventually leads into fuller awareness of the everyday world since the secular contemplative must fit himself and the object contemplated into the larger world of, e.g., serving a client, supporting a family, relaxing socially with friends; wondering about the worth of the object produced by the secular contemplation-in-action. Eventually every secular contemplative-in-action has to ask those terrible questions: "How do I and my work fit into the ongoing world? Why should I continue to ply my art, trade, profession, parenthood? Where am I, my family, and my work heading finally?" Such questioning usually leads to the more religious questions: "Is there anything more than this total world? Is there someone or something permeating this world and leading it to a higher destiny, a fuller life? Can I contact this mysterious one or am I already doing so?" When such questions finally lead into the experience of a meaningful world and of a transcendent God, then religious contemplation-in-action has evolved out of the secular and now redounds to the enrichment of the latter. To see how this is possible, note what happens when a family friend at-tempts to heal a family quarrel. He listens intently as the various family members describe the events leading up to the quarrel. The friend tries to piece together (to do a secular contemplation of) this setting and the quarrel. Once he feels that he knows the whole scene, he endeavors to help each family member see this whole so that each can experience some healing-into-wholeness as each admits his or her own faults, the good points of other fami-ly members, the need to forgive each other, and the necessity of planning together for a better family future. This secular contemplation starts to become contemplation-in-action when each family member begins to act out of this vision. Such secular contemplation-in-action begins to move into its religious counterpart when each family member finds a reason to act beyond himself or herself for unified family action, e.g., the preservation of the fami-ly tradition or the hope for future family members. Later, this religious contemplation-in-action attains fullness when individually the family members think of themselves and act as Christians carrying Christ's presence within the family, and when socially this same family as a group does healing actions which image the future Great Community of the Great Tomorrow beyond the grave. But factually, this neat cooperation between secular and religious contemplation-in-action often breaks down. There is a tendency in each human to abort secular contemplation-in-action before it can rise into the religious. St. Augustine describes vividly how this happens when a person at- Contemplation-in-Action / 325 tempts .to control the world, his fellow human beings and himself apart from or in conflict with God's law and providence. In this case the secular con-templative so concentrates on another person or a business project or a grand scheme as to lose sight of the more comprehensive wholes of community-justice and of God's people. Here secular contemplation becomes divorced from religious. The result is that the secular contemplative becomes hypnotiz-ed by the object of contemplation (nothing else is of equal value), then abject-ly slavish to the latter (the object becomes the only hope), then frantically con-servative of this object (e.g., a beloved, a job, an ambition or fond hope, a favorite pastime like gambling or fishing, a power over others). Because all the person's efforts are so fiercely focused on saving his project, he tends to dissipate mind, heart, and imagination. Thus, in an ironic way, the con-templating person literally fragments himself in efforts to mold his private world into a lasting wholesomeness which fits his own self-image and peculiar needs, but which fails to fit the true wholeness of the world and the Transcen-dent One. As a result, even a person's secular contemplation-in-action tends to disintegrate when its religious completion is aborted. To put this positively, religious contemplation-in-action is a contempla-tion whose resultant activities aim to render man more wholesome within the wholing of the world as the latter develops within the dynamic whole of the Transcendent God. The vision of Teilhard de Chardin which sees the universe converging towards the transcendent Omega Point is one illustration of religious contemplation-in-action. The exuberance of such religious contemplation-in-action once achieved can then redound upon its secular counterpart to render the latter passionate for truth and eager for beautiful action within its peculiar sphere of influence. F~'om all this it should be clear that secular and religious contemplation-in- action are distinct and mutually modifying phases in the contemplative person's wholesome life.3 To confuse one with the other is, then, to neglect one for the other and even to risk diminishing both since they are so naturally interdependent. But even within.religious contemplation-in-action, there is a further clarification to be made. Its monastic variety is different from the apostolic, even though, again, both types are needed to stimulate and to enrich the life of God's people. Here, too, confusion of one with the other debilitates life. Within Religious Contemplation-in-Action, the Monastic and the Apostolic Differ Discouragement is just as apt to arise from confusing the apostolic and the 3Karl Rahner shows the intimate connection between secular and religious contemplation when he demonstrates that supernaturally elevated transcendentality (i.e., God's self-communication in grace) is mediated by any and every categorical reality, (i.e., by the world). For the Christian, there is no separate sacral realm where alone God is to be found (Foundations of Christian Faith, translated by William V. Dych, Seabury Press, New. York, 1978, pp. 151-152). 326 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 monastic within religious c0ntemplation-in-action as it is from equating secular and religious contemplation-in-action. For, to seek continually the qualities of one in the other is to be permanently misled and disappointed. Although all forms of secular contemplation seek for wholesomeness in con-templator and in object contemplated, nevertheless as many types of secular contemplation occur as there are types of contemplators, e.g., artist, lawyer, neurosurgeon, philosopher, business person, parent, novelist and so on. It should be no great surprise, then, that the monastic religious contemplation-in- action of the Poor Clare or the Carthusian will be different from its apostolic counterpart in the life of lay person or diocesan priest or apostolic religious. In monastic contemplation the monk or nun searches deeply, within the roots of his or her innermost being, for personal wholeness and for the mysterious wholesomeness of God's life within this being. Now such a demand-ing search becomes possible only if the person withdraws from the more active concerns of life in the everyday world of the apostle. In his Contemplative Prayer, Thomas Merton makes it clear that the monk must devote himself in a special way to renunciation, repentance, and prayer if he is to sound the depths of his being for God.' In monastic religious contemplation-in-action, the quiet sinking into self to find God requires a strict control of attention as one undergoes the rigors of hard manual labor, very close community living, sometimes deafening silence, and occasionally piercing loneliness. Thus the relief from cultural pressures which enables monastic religious contemplation-in-action to occur is hardly an escape from suffering the harsh demands of love and of the daily labor for survival. But it is a religious contemplation-in-action diverse from that of the apostle in the world of art, business, medicine, education, and family. Unfortunately, much less is writteri about apostolic religious contemplation-in-action than about the monastic varietywespecially from the view of the layperson.~ Because the apostolic contemplative is ordinarily working in a professional position or a ,trade or a skill-job (secretary, housewife, telephone linesman, and so on) and is frequently involved in team-work, he or she must give much attention to the daily concerns of the world--the very concerns from which the monastic contemplative explicitly withdraws. Ttfis apostolic religious contemplation-in-action is more depend-ent on secular contemplation-in-action for its dynamism because apostolic contemplatives are intently pursuing professional jobs, trades, and skills through eight to ten hours per day. As a result, the apostolic contemplative is more concerned with outer wholeness of self and world, whereas the monastic 'Thomas Merton, Contemplative Prayer (Doubleday-Image, Garden City, N.Y., 1971 pp. 19-20). ~Thomas Vernor Moore's Life of Man with God, (Harcourt Brace~ New York, 1956), though quaint, contains case histories of ordinary people enjoying strong contemplation in action. Contemplation-in-Action / 397 contemplative concentrates more on the inner wholeness. Evidently both types of concern are needed by the civic and ecclesial communities since they complement each other. The outer beauty of technological, scientific, and cultural wholeness must be appreciated and promoted if the inner beauty of man's ultimate meaning and destiny is to exist and to be known in depth. On the other hand, the inner beauty of such wholeness makes possible all the outer beauty since the loss of ultimate meaning and destiny in human activities renders technology, science and culture vacuous: if not vicious. Nor is the withdrawal of the mohastic contemplative to be considered unique to this type of contemplation. The apostolic contemplative must prac-tice a somewhat similar asceticism if he or she is to be a first-rank artist, lawyer, neurosurgeon, teacher, sports star, philosopher, business person, or parent. In order to focus intensely upon the contemplated object, such contemplators must withdraw steadily from distractions, occasionally from family life, often from comforts, not rarely from the spotlight of flattering attention. Though the person dedicated to apostolic religious contemplation-in-action may be immersed in the concerns of the world, still he or she must learn to live hidden within the teamwork of the institution and to withdraw from disruptive self-seeking of fame, fortune, and fun. Such withdrawal is essential if the contemplator is to discover better the wholeness of object, self, world, and God. For the aim of every contemplative is to become more whole in order better to see, in all their wholesomeness, other people, the tasks at hand, professional teamwork, family health, national purpose, ecclesial community and God himself. For this reason, the withdrawal should make one more attentive and appreciative of other people, of one's business, of art and music, of wholesome sanctity (a redundant phrase), of professional skill, of science and technology, and of oneself. Such wholesomeness, when appreciated, gives deep intellectual joy and is the fullest reward for disciplined suffering. Consequently, the various types of contemplation-in-action must be carefully distinguished so that each can be pursued with finesse. But since contemplation-in-action has so many ways of expressing itself according to each one's peculiar gifts, situations, aims, and tradition, it is no easy task to discover one's own way of contemplating-in-action. Since each type of con-templation aims at wholeness of object contemplated and of person con-templating, a major error here could fragment the contemplator's personality and induce shoddy activity within his or her specialized secular contemplation-in-action. With this caution in mind, one delves hesitantly within his experience for the feel of apostolic contemplation-in-action, especially since this experience runs so deeply and so uniquely. Towards the Feel of Apostolic Contemplation-in-Action Because apostolic contemplation-in-action is present deep within many actions of the secular contemplative, it can be approached only gradually 328 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 through four steps. The first step consists in answering a series of questions constructed to bring into better focus the secret unity of one's everyday ex-perience. Later, in a second step, reflection on the various levels of this every-day experience helps us to recognize at what level apostolic contemplation-in-action originates. The third step is to work out an explicit definition of such contemplation according to these levels. Here, in a fourth step, one can finally note the feel of contemplation-in-action as it happens within various levels and modes of experience. But let us now take the first of these four steps by leisurely answering for ourselves the following questions: I. Why do I usually get up on time in the morning and not let people wait? 2. Why do I bother to cook breakfast for others and not just for myself? 3. Why do I share my car with others and, on occasional rainy mornings, leave early to get them to work on time? 4. Why, at the job, do I help out on someone else's project when mine is not finished yet? 5. Why should I avoid the second beer at lunch because it makes me loggy at work? Who really cares about my efficiency? 6. Why scrimp and save for others--esp~ecially if they are likely to squander the savings? 7. Why take work and worries home from the~ job? Why bother studying at night to complete degree work or to be more competent in my next day's work? 8. Why keep up correspondence with friends or answer the third telephone call when I'm so tired at night? 9. Why be the one who usually corrects the children and who gets their resentment? 10. Why sometimes spend money meant for entertainment on the needs of others? 11. Why squeeze into the already packed day the Eucharist and another fifteen or more minutes of prayer? In other words, all these why's add up to a single last question: Why do we stretch ourselves out for others hour after hour, day after day, month after month, year after year? Could the answer be that, amid all our sneaky ways, our clever vanities, our downright sins, and our cute manipulation of others to our own desires, we nevertheless do have a strong practical concern for peo-ple, for their welfare and happiness? Could it even be that, deep within, we each feel God quietly encouraging us to stretch our lives out to others? Could it be that, deep within, we want to delight the heart of God? If so, then this is what is called "the stretch," the almost constant doing.of the more difficult out of respect for others and for God. It is, in other words, the willingness to bleed slowly for loved ones and even, at times, for mere acquaintances. This "stretch," then, turns out to be a dynamic unity running through all the day's events to give them meaning and direction. Could it be that this is our seeking Contemplation-in-Action / 329 for God, our God-hunger? Is this our restlessness with anything less than God--a restlessness which renders us mystified at the self-serving actions of the trifler, the super-ambitious, and the bun vivant? Indeed, is this "stretch" or God-hunger the apostolic contemplation-in-action for which we are searching? It would seem not. For such contemplation lies underneath "the stretch" to make it happen. We must yet distinguish various levels of experience and then move underneath each to find the deepest level from where apostolic contemplation-in-action originates. And we find that there are four levels of experience to distinguish. The first or sur-face level is where minor irritations, like the sound of loud rock-and-roll music or the itch of eczema or the sudden hiccup occurs and where minor joys like a satisfying meal or a long sleep or a relaxed laugh, happen. Underneath this surface level, lies the second or physical level where the pains of ulcers or neuralgia lurk and the joys of exuberant good health or of strong sexual pleasure energize one. Underneath these two levels is the third or psychological level where one trembles with fear of failure in one's work or shrinks at seeing the beloved suffer, and where one also is Warmed with the security of being .loved deeply and faithfully by an admired person, or experiences the deep satisfaction of witnessing one's children growing up well. Underneath these three explicitly conscious levels which we all can recognize lies a more hidden fourth level known only implicitly, i.e., by con-trast with the top three levels. Thus a person can feel great joy and serenity at this fourth level, while at the upper three levels he feels terrible suffering and apparent fragmentation. Or the reverse may be the case. "Everything is going my way in health, job-~atisfaction, family life; I've got everything--except that I feel uneasy and deeply restless underneath all of this." In both in-stances, the person feels almost schizophrenic--so clear is the distinction be-tween the top three levels and the deepest fourth level of experience, so direct-ly reverse is the flow of events between the top-three and the fourth levels. Puzzling as this experience is, it is also a revelation of the fourth level where the root of contemplation-in-action lies and it will eventually lead us to the "feel" of apostolic contemplation-in action.6 Apostolic Contemplation-in-Action Is a Heart-Awareness of God and His People To state matters bluntly, apostolic contemplation-in-action is not "the stretch," the disciplined reaching out to others and to God from the third level of experience. It is not the constant calling to mind of God's presence, nor 61 have given a fuller description of these four levels of experience in "The Fourth Level of Prayer: Mystery," (REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, VOI. 39, 1980/6. pp. 808-810, 817-819). Confer also "Phenomenology, Psychiatry, and Ignatian Discernment" (The Way, Supplement #6, May, 1968, pp. 27-34) by Felix Letemendia and George Croft for a similar description of four levels of experience. 330 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 constant explicit aspirations, not the "Jesus prayer," nor one's favorite scrip-tural mantra on the second level of experience. It is not constant conversation with God on the second and first levels.7 Apostolic contemplation-in-action may cause these behaviors, but it is not any one or all of them. Rather, it is more like a heart-awareness of God, an affectionate and deep alertness to God in all events, a strong and warm conviction of God's loving presence at the fourth level underlying and yet permeating all life's experiences and hap-penings. 8 This heart-awareness seems to be always operative, like the buoyancy of a cork under water, always unobtrusive, like quiet background music in office or dining room, always implicit, like a mother's awareness of noisy children in the backyard while she is concentrating on a new cake recipe; always pulsing, like the tennis player's awareness of the beloved watching his match from the grandstands; always underlying, like the companionship between two friends whose attention is riveted on an engrossing motion picture; always growing osmotically, like the friendship between two people sitting in the front seat of a car and silently viewing the. countryside during a long trip. This heart-awareness appears not in the least to interfere with conversation or with algebra-solving or with. business-planning or with party-laughing or with landscape-painting or with surgical operating. Indeed, it can be said that this heart-awareness is actually a person's awareness of God's awareness of him while he works through the events of the day--much as when the lover tennis-star is implicitly aware of his beloved's awareness of him as she sits in the grandstand watching his play.9 This heart-awareness is like the alertness of the saints to God's providence in small happenings. God, like the air, is embracing the saints, enabling them to breathe, acting as the medium for all the surrounding events. In such an at-mosphere, nothing is insignificant. There is a second way in which this heart-awareness of God, called apostolic contemplation-in-action, can be described. It seems to be also a per- 'In reading Henri J. M. Nouwen's books and articles on spirituality, I have rarely felt anything but strong agreement--except for one article: "Unceasing Prayer" (America, Vol. 139/3, July 29--August 5, 1978, pp. 46-51), where Nouwen declares: "We convert our unceasing thinking in-to unceasing prayer when we move from a self-centered monologue to a God-centered di;~logue (p. 48)." Though he characterizes this prayer as contemplation, as attentive looking at God, and as presence to God, still the heavy emphasis on thinking and imagining in the article could lead the reader to a false mentalistic perception of praying always. 8In Love Alone (Herder and Herder, New York, 1969, p. 89), Hans Urs Von Balthasar compares the unceasing prayer of heart-awareness to the "the way a man is always and everywhere influenc-ed by the image of the woman he loves." 9 John S. Dunne (The Reasons of the Heart, Macmillan, New York, 1978, pp. 46-54) gives an acute description of this heart-awareness of God wherein one feels known and loved deeply by God. He puts it in Meister Eckhart's terms: this is a laughing between God and man which images the Trinitarian life of mutual joy between and in the three persons. Contemplation-in-Action / 331 son's awareness of God present within him and working out through him into the lives of others. It would explain somewhat Paul the Apostle's remark: "I live now, not I, but Christ lives in me." In this implicit heart-awareness there is even a sense of acting beyond one's capacities, or of being borne along to meet events for which one feels strangely prepared beforehand. This does not imply that such experience is without suffering. On the contrary, the heart-awareness has the tendency to make one more sensitive to the suffering of others and of one's self and even more ready to assume sorrow. For, remarkably, this heart-awareness opens one up not only to God but also simultaneously to God's people and his world. It would seem to contain a readiness for friendship, and for the obligations consequent upon friendship. It is not a state achieved by spiritual gymnastics, by much reading on the meaning of life, by the use of diaries, by experimental prayer-sessions, by con-stant aspirations, and God-conversation, or by psychological dynamics. Rather, it seems to arise within the disciplined service of others out of love. In other words, "the stretch" seems to set up the conditions in which this heart-awareness, this apostolic contemplation-in-action, occurs. The latter would seem, then, to he a natural development in a healthy life of service to God and his people. It appears to be an availability to others which is adaptive~to their needs, hopes, joys and sorrows and which consequently takes on emotional coloring and religious content by way of this adaptation. For this reason, it would seem that apostolic contemplation-in-action is not an esoteric gift but one which is given to many good people by a God eager to promote such heart-awareness of himself and of his people. After all, such awareness would seem to include a penchant for fulfilling the two Great Com-mandments under a vast array of different circumstances and, therefore, under many diverse modes of action. It is time, then, that we considered some of these modes. In this way we can experientially both test the understanding and get the feel of apostolic contemplation-in-action. Various Modes in Which Apostolic Contemplation-in-Action Is Felt Apostolic religious contemplation-in-action as heart-awareness of God is, then, a deep good will towards God, a warm desire for God, a loving remembering of him in his people and his universe. This single basic convic-tion naturally expresses itself in a thousand different ways according to the thousand diverse activities of the apostolic contemplative. Among these thou-sand ways are the following eleven (if you can recognize them in your ex-perience, then you have, I would ~hink, the "feel" of apostolic contempla-tion- in-action): 1. Hope: a pervading sense of the worthwhileness of one's present life and work for the future; a certain fearlessness in facing radical changes within one's community amid the sudden turnings of history. "Why is everyone so depressed?" 2. Patience: St. Paul's hypornone, the strength to stand underneath and to 339 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 hold everything together when all seems to be coming apart and others are deserting the supposedly sinking enterprise; a kind of dilapidated, yet dedicated, serenity amid much suffering and uncertainty. An ~'old-shoe" type says: "What's the big ~panic about?" 3. Need to be Hidden in teamwork: a wanting to contribute one's best quiet-ly; and yet, in times of stress, a boldness to take on the tough job of leadership. "Tell me what you want done--and if you can't tell me, I'll tell you." 4. Passive Alertness to Others: a willingness to wait, to listen, to hear out a person or a situation; a deep respect for the individuality of others; a refusal to domineer in conversation-work-dispute; no demand for a return on love given--because of trust in the other and in God. "I've got time to listen. Relax." 5. A Senseof Being Companioned through the day (at the fourth level): never being alone because at the centei" of one's heart and of the whole world'is the beloved: a turning to God, and frequently finding him there waiting. "Why worry about anything so long as the Lord is with me?" 6. Sense of an Intimate Providence in one's life, of being cared for with remarkable delicacy: events that at first put everything in jeopardy and turmoil eventually turn out to be fortunate; chancehappenings are later seen to fit together with precision; surprises'are taken as God's special attention to a person rather than as senseless interruptions to his or her life. "Someone loves me and is guiding me to himself over this rough road and dangerous terrain." 7. Sense of Belonging to God, to the Church (his people), to the mother of God, to one's community (parish, family, neighborhood, religious order, charismatic prayer-group): a sense of finally being at home--no matter where I travel; a deep content with God, world, oneself in the midst of contradiction. "Yes, my God owns the world--now what's the problem?" (". the world, life and death, the present and the future, are all your ser-vants; but you belong to Christ and Christ belongs to God" I Co 3:22-23.) 8. Firm Conviction of Doing Exactly What God Wants at the Moment and of not wanting to do anything else or to be anywhere else: a sense of rightness (without righteousness) about one's present action; a determined sense of vocation which is nevertheless ready for change; riding hard, yet sitting easy, in the saddle. "For the moment this is where it all is." 9. Constant Hunger to Serve Others: to give them joy, to help them expand their personalities in happiness-knowledge-commitment--even though the servant (e.g., teacher, counselor) will be soon forgotten and very likely will have little'to show for his or her services. "How can I be of help without getting in your way?" 10. A Steady Sense of Gratefulness to God: for the fullness of one's life--for each person, event, knock-at-the-door; a wonder at how much God has entrusted to oneself; gratitude, the mark of maturity and full humaneness. Contemplation-in-Action "How could you be so good to me, Lord?" 11. Finding God in Others: seeing by faith that this person is beloved by God; not projecting some Christ-image on the person so that the latter is not seen for himself and is therefore depreciated, but rather discovering this new value in the person, and therefore serving him more carefully, listening to him more attentively, finding his core-goodness. "He is my brother and Christ's brother.'" 0 These eleven modes (they could be a thousand) have an inner unity amid their diversity." First of all, each is concerned with the wholeness of both the contemplative and the object contemplated. For example, hope sums up the whole past and present to send the totality into the future without a constrict-ing fear; patience serenely holds the present fragmenting situation together; hidden teamwork binds the group together and offers leadership when fragmentation or misdirection threatens; passive alertness to others offers time and support for the healing process; the sense of being companioned at the center of one's being leads into a sense of providence intimately and delicately converging all events towards a full future goodness; the sense of belonging to God-community-worm produces a wholesome contentedness which paradox-ically can issue into fierce efforts to build a better community and world with the firm conviction of doing exactly What God wants at the moment; the con-stant selfless hunger to serve others naturally builds wholesome community; and the steady sence of gratefulness to God means gratefulness to other which, in turn, produces the close unity of friendship.'2 Clearly, then, this heart awareness of God, this apostolic religious contemplation-in-action, fulfills well the definition of contemplation as the perceiving and the building of wholesomeness in the comtemplative and in the object contemplated. There is a second inner unity among these eleven modes of contemplation-in- action. Evidently, each mode is itself an attitude (an habitually lived value) which inspires and molds the.activity flowing out of it. In other words, the mode of contemplation controls the actibn of apostolic religious contemplation-in-action. But each of the eleven attitudes embodies, in its own way, a single attitude common to them all: a total accepting of all reality (God, t°Yves Raguin, S.J. (Paths to Contemplation, translated by Paul Barrett, O.F.M. Cap., Abbey Press, St. Meinrad, Ind., 1974, p. 82), stresses that "the love of God teaches us to love others for themselves., just as they are, with all their defects and with all their hopes." Here he finds common ground between Eastern and Western schools of contemplation, but also great differences (pp. 4-11). "In How to Pray Always without Always Praying (Fides/Claretian, Notre Dame, Ind., 1978) Silvio Fittipaldi, O.S;A., speaks of prayerfulness as a basic life-orientation under!ying all one's activities (p. vii). He then deftly shows how deep questioning of everyday events (pp. 11-27) and a constant wondering-longing about life (pp. 29-40) can be a praying always. These are two more modes to add to the eleven already noted. '21n his Letter to the Colossians, St. Paul, when listing the signs of Christian growth (1:9-12), ap-pears to mention five or six of these modes of contemplation in action. 334 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 world, self, people) and a sense of being, in turn, accepted by all reality.' ~ This attitude is a deep welcoming of all the people and events of life--an attitude symbolized when one's arms are extended wide in service and one's face bears a confident smile of trust." Now among the eleven modes, one may rise in prominence to succeed a second which then recedes to be called upon at a later time for a different situation. Though a person~may temporarily feel, for example, less hope or less sense of intimate providence, nevertheless these attitudes remain even though submerged under the new succeeding mode of, e.g., passive alertness to others. Meanwhile, the single deepest attitude of simple acceptance or welcome is being expressed in one of the eleven (or one thousand) modes. The modes, of course, vary according to the needs of the situation, the type of work being done, or the growth-phase of the contemplative-in-action. But always the single basic attitude of welcoming acceptance knits them together with expectant trust in God and his world. Could it be that this unify-ing attitude is what enables the apostolic contemplative "to pray always"? Could it be, then, that this basic acceptance of God and of his world is the ac-tive embodiment of a man's fundamental option?" The negative side of this acceptance is dramatized in the death-bed rejection of family, God, and world, when the dying person implies: "God, you'v.e cheated me consistently with this harassing world of yours and with this demanding family of mine. Now stay out of my life forever." Such basic cynicism, bubbling corrosively in each of us, can eat away the roots of apostolic religious contemplation-in-action. To face our cynicism may be to see more clearly the radical source of such ~c.ontemplation. Human Cynicism Versus the Divine Indwelling Over our contemporary culture a vast cloud of cynicism rolls, paralyzing the self-sacrificing attitude which empowers apostolic religious contempla- "Hans Urs Von Balthasar, in his article "On Unceasing Prayer" (Theology Digest Vol. 25/1, pp. 35-37), takes this basic attitude to be a readiness to hear God's word at all times in all things, events and persons. "To pray always, therefore, means to make real what is--in turning to God and to the world." For Von Balthasar, such constant prayer is kept alive by articulated or formal prayer in which it is remembered. "The books of George Maloney, S.J., sketch this weldoming attitude in various ways. Inward Stillness (Dimension Books, Denville, N.J., 1976), sees it as a loving surrender in all things to God's loving guidance (pp. 91-92) and as a heart-prayer of constant thankfulness (p. 99). Nesting in the Rock (Dimension Books, 1978, pp. 86 ff.), develops this theme. The Breath of the Mystic (Dimension Books, 1974, pp. 181-183), speaks of contemplation-in-action as a "contuition," a simultaneous awareness of the creature and of the dynamic presence of God within the creature as its ground of being; it is, then, a lov, ing affinity for all with all b~ings. ~qn his How to Pray Today (Abbey Press, St. Meinrad, Ind., 1975, translated by John Beevers, pp. 40-41), Yves Raguin, S.J., finds that the basic disposition for prayer is acceptance of the human condition. Such acceptance first acknowledges that every good act is under the influence of the Holy Spirit and then enjoys this fact amid all the ups and downs of secular activity. Contemplation-in-Action / 335 tion-in-action. In the face of mammoth social problems, contemporary man is oftencounseled: "Always watch out first for Number One, otherwise you'll be suffocated by other people's needs." The human mind and heart then con-cludes: "Apostolic contemplation-in-action is impossible." And the Lord replies within the heart of each person precisely as he responded to Peter's similar complaint in the episode involving the rich young man: "Yes; it is im-possible- without God." This complaint often takes the form of an objection: "How can I who am so aware of my own fragmentation and partialness be expected to help others to wholesomeness? Who am I to attempt apostolic contemplation-in-action?" The very formulation of this objection is a humiliating experience, yet the humiliation happens to be the first step in doing such contemplation-in- action. Tho married couple raising three young children has known from the days of the first birth that the one spouse's partiainess will, paradoxically and often humiliatingly, be the source of the other's wholesomeness. Hus-band and wife need each other's partialness to become whole, just as they need their own growing wholesomeness to lure their children to wholesome living and just as they need their children's needs tO call them to greater wholesomeness of action. Christ, knowing thoroughly the agony of bringing fragmentation to wholeness, is there to help with Cana's sacrament of matrimony. Thus, apostolic contemplation-in-action, through this sacra-ment, can be intimate to the daily routines of married life; while at the same time the seeming impossibility of marital contemplation-in-action reveals to the cynical that the heart-awareness of God and his people is pure gift. Not rarely the most cyn. ical person of all concerning apostolic contemplation-in-action is the priest ministering the sacrament of reconcilia-tion, that efficacious sign of ultimate wholeness. In the confessional, his fragmented, partial self laments: "I should be confessing to this good pe{son, not he to me. His wholesomeness comes through the more deeply he sorrows over his failures to be of help to his wife and children, his friends and co-workers." Yet as the Lord permeates the priest's absolution to heal the peni-tent, he simultaneously heals the priest precisely through the iatter's humilia-tion at his own fragmentation. The gift of reconciliation for the penitent can often contain the gift of apostolic contemplation-in-action for the priest. Somehow, in allowing God to work through him, the priest has acted beyond his own capacities as a human being and has simultaneously increased the wholeness of the penitent and of himself. But this example is not meant to imply that apostolic religious contemplation-in-action is easily acquired and done. For this basic attitude of welcoming acceptance of God and world, this heart-awareness of God and his people, animates and directs "the stretch," that continuous, disciplined action of serving, healing and challenging others beyond one's own capacities. For the gift of heart-awareness of God and his people demands that the apostolic contemplative constantly and painfully grow in generous action for 336 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 others. To operate beyond one's capacities in this way means to take risks con-tinually and to undergo humiliations inevitably. There must, then, be some unique source of illumination and strength within the being of the apostolic contemplative-in-action. Otherwise, he or she would fragment under the pressures and demands of such a life. It would appear that the divine indwelling of the Trinity is this ultimate source for apostolic religious contemplation-in-action. In Christ's prayer for his disciples (Jn 17:18-23), a prayer of "wholing" action, he speaks of "send-ing" the disciples, and all his believers, just as the Father had sent him so that "All may be one as you, Father, are in me and I in you; I pray that they may be [one] in us, that the world ma.), believe that you sent me." Apostolic contem-plation- in-action becomes, then, the manifesting of the Son, Jesus Christ, to the world in the apostolic actions of the contemplative. But the very action promoted by Jesus within the contemplative has also contained Jesus' mani-festation of the Father to this contemplative. As a result the contemplative's action in the world reveals both the Father and the Son. In this way, the apostolic contemplative becomes Their living glory expressed for all to see in the contemplative's maturing manhood or womanhood. Such action enables Father and Son to be present incarnately to the world. At the same time, the Spirit, indwelling in the people of God and in the contemplative, inflames the contemplative's actions so that they become more truly and fully acts of love (caritas) which simultaneously cause wholeness in others and in the con-templative. Here apostolic religious contemplation-in-action is seen to go far beyond the human capacities of the contemplative as it heals the world into wholesomeness through "the stretch." At this point, the problem of apostolic contemplation-in-action becomes more evident. Misunderstanding of it makes one feel falsely guilty for not hav-ing mystical graces of extraordinary mental vision and will-strength, for not being able physically to see Christ in the other, for not keeping the morning's solitary prayer in unbroken continuity through the day, for not enjoying fre-quent upsurges of strong consolation during work. But rather, it would seem that apostolic contemplation-in-action is the gradual and painful explicita- ~tion of the divine indwelling operative in all the contemplative's actions. It is the slow bringing-to-consciousness of the Trinity's workings within the con-templative's actions, within "the stretch." Now this gradual awareness is, concretely and basically, the apostolic con-templative's developing attitude of welcoming acceptance towards God, his people, and his world. By operating unobtrusively behind and within all the contemplative's actions in the world, this attitude leaves the contemplative's senses, mind, emotions, decision-power, and imagination free to concentrate on the particular work and the persons at hand. As a result, the contemplative is not less, but more, present to the work and the people; not less, but more, alert to their needs; not less, but more, hopeful of their expanding wholesomeness. Such total dedication, made possible by apostolic religious Contemplation-in-Action / 337 contemplation-in-action, becomes that magnificent self-forgetfulness which Karl Rahner sees as "praying always" and as beautiful surrender to God." Consequently, this deep heart-awareness of God and his people which constitutes apostolic contemplation-in-action can be a gradual expansion of the indwelling Trinity's effective presence within the contemplative's "stretch." This presence rises slowlythrough the contemplatives's whole be-ing so that his arms can go out in self-forgetting welcome to God and his world. Thus, the contemplative's subsequent actions carry ever more passion, strength, intelligence, compassion and wholesome beauty. Such con-templative action can then manifest strong love without crushing the beloved and competent service without condescension to the beneficiary. For it will in-clude the fuller action of the indwelling Trinity seeking to make all humans one as the Father, Son and Spirit are one in their own eternal wholeness of the divine family. ~6Karl Rahner, The Religious Life Today (Seabury, New York, 1976), p. 49. The" Active-Contemplative" Problem in Religious Life by David M. Knight Price: $.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 The White Robed Citadins of Paris M. Grace Swift, O.S.U. Sister Grace teaches at Loyola University of the South. Her mailing address is: Box 192; Loyola University; New Orleans, LA 70118. Ancient bells begin their clamorous count-down of eleven hours. A hooded nun, enshrouded in yards of creamy white wool, rises from her place on the matted rug-covered nave floor of St. Gervais et Protais Church, Paris. She mounts the steps, bows deeply before the icon enshrined on the massive altar, and with her Easter taper, lights the seven-branched menorah standing in back of the Eucharistic table. The Sunday liturgy begins as the celebrant and choir proclaim the central theme: "All you who have been baptized in Christ have put on Christ, Alleluia." During the next hour and a half people from all corners of Paris, indeed from all corners of the world, will find themselves involved in a liturgy that is uniquely prayerful, reverent, dramatic, and stunningly beautiful. For this is why this community came to be--to provide for harried urbanites a setting where they could find an oasis of prayer, where a celebration of the sacred mysteries could unfold with the leisurely, spellbinding grandeur of a true monastic milieu. The people of Paris have voted with their feet for the effort. Before the liturgy begins, the monks (roughly about a dozen) enter individually and kneel on the left side of the wide nave, their prayer area en-cased on two sides by choir stalls. An equal number of nuns, wearing the same deep-sleeved white habit enter, with only one apparent difference in their clothing: the nuns wear the capuche on their heads, while the monks allow it to hang down the back. In back of the kneeling monastic communities, the nave is filled with worshippers whokneel, like them (and very close to them), on the reed rug. Others sit on benches or chairs at the sides and in front of the altar area. In France, one may look in vain in many churches for young people at- 338 Citadins of Paris / 339 tending mass, but here, they are conspicuously evident. One willowy lad sits cross legged on the floor, proclaiming by his rigidly straight back and tucked in chin that he has dabbled in Zen. At times, many of the youths uninhihitedly imitate the profound, fetal-positioned bows of the worshipping monks and nuns. Some wear the special metal cross that identifies them as youths who have spent a week at Taiz6. A turbaned black girl peals forth the French lyrics with the sobbing overtones her tribal ancestors once used to summon dark Senegalese spirits. No guitars, no cheap gimmicks draw them there, for this liturgy is designed to meet the tastes of some of the most cultured urbanites of the world. Along with the youths, a solid strata of bourgeois Parisians also compose the congregation. Everywhere one spots nuns of various congrega-tions, as well as many men who by their nondescript blue and gray suits reveal to a trained eye that they are French priests. They, too, need the nourishment of St. Gervais. As mass progresses, a drunk ambles down the side aisle and dazedly turns 360°. With a blank stare at the congregation and a gesture of appeal with his hands he mutters, "Mes fr~res." He provides no lasting distraction, for all attention is riveted on the liturgical drama. Its magnetism lies not only in its splendid integration of prayer and majestic Byzantine-style music, but also in the witness of the monks and nuns themselves. The communities in charge of this liturgy are now called Les Fraternit~s Monastiques de Jerusalem. The monks started life under the leadership of Pierre Marie Delfieux on November 1, 1975, with the invitation and blessing of FranCois Cardinal Marty of Paris. On December 8, 1976 a company of women formed in a neighboring area near the Church of Notre Dame des Blancs Manteaux. The Rule specifically states that there never was or would be any intention of having a mixed community; each group has its own separate establishment and administration, though they do celebrate the liturgy together and share the same spirit and aims--to be monks and nuns in the city, or citadins.~ They have no pastoral, sacramental, teaching, or organized charitable commitment. Signs notify the public that for weddings and sick calls, they can contact the neighboring churches. The members of these groups aim chiefly: 1) to be present in the city and 2) to celebrate the liturgy and divine office in company with the townspeople. The liturgy being a prime concern of their existence, they take time to plan and execute it with all the artistry their con-siderable, combined talents can effect. In choosing a style of.music for their services, the leaders concluded that much of the contemporary church music was shallow, both musically and theologically. Wanting a dominant style that would manifest a global unity, 'Two articles in French give some information al~out these communities: Jean Leclerq, O.S.B., "Tendances Monastiques Actuelles," Nouvelle Revue Theologique, 10e Ann6e, No. i (January- February, 1978), pp. 90-102 and "Naissance d'une Fraternit~ Monastique ~t Paris," Carmel (April, 1976), pp. 56-66. 340 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 they chose Byzantine modes to accompany their Roman liturgy. With lyrics based upon psalmic and patristic sources, translated effectively into French, the simple, strong, rolling harmonies are easily mastered. The result is almost total participation by the congregation. St. Gervais boasts one of the oldest and finest organs in Paris. It is used selectively and effectively at the end of the liturgy and during special times of meditative prayer. The sisters, with beautiful, clear voices, take an active role in leading the singing, in reading, and in gathering together the offertory procession, which always includes lay people and children. An abundant use of incense in the liturgy adds even more of an aura of Byzantine mystery to the ceremony. The Fraternit6 includes several priests. For the Sunday liturgy, the con-celebrants sing, in three harmonic parts, the canon of the mass. Some other parts of the mass, sung alone by the chief celebrant, are accompanied by a background of soft, harmonic melody, hummed by the monks and nuns. At communion time, the frdres and soeurs draw together to form a half-circle about the altar, completed sometimes by lay. members of the congregation. The priests chant in harmony: "Receive the body of Christ," to which the congregation responds in the same harmonic parts: "We receive the body of Christ." A huge host, the size of an American dinner plate, is broken and dist~'ibuted to the encircled brothers and sisters. The same sung ritual accom-panies the chalice. The result is a moving evocation of a truly shared banquet. The total impression given by all the reverent and graceful movements of the mass is that this is the most important event in the lives of the celebrating com-munity- which is just as it should be. The Monastic Fraternit6s The vocation of citadin was revealed to the founder of the F.raternit6s after profound searching in prayer. The rules for community life have been developed in stages, after actual experience in communal living. The guidelines (for communal use only) are now contained in two mimeographed volumes: l) Au Coeur des Villes, au Coeur de Dieu (At the Heart of the Cities, At the Heart of God) and 2) Le Livre de Vie(The Book of Life). Abundant scriptural references in the latter remind the reader that Mary lived, Jesus taught, the apostles evangelized, and prophets and priests of old sacrificed, in the city. Christ fought the devil and conquered him in a city; the fire of the Holy Spirit descended in a city. The beloved of the Canticle sought her Lover while running about the city, and one day He will make the city his beautiful spouse. Indeed, Heaven itself is a City. "It is there that we must remain," the Rule affirms, since God himself dwells there, and thousands of his brothers work, love, weep, sweat, sing, search, struggle and pray there. The Church of St. Gervais is surrounded by all the civic bustle entailed in commerce and governmental administration. It is near the Quais du Seine where lovers stroll l and tourists buy postcards. Its metro stop is H6tel de Ville, the seat of many offices of Parisian city government. Walking in another direction, a visitor Citadins of Paris / 341 soon meets Rue Rivoli, a thriving center of cheap stores and sidewalk vendors selling anything from ice cream to wool stockings. The picturesque Tie Saint Louis, an ancient area called the Marais, and le Forum des Halles are also located in its orbit. The Rule does not lightly gloss over the difficulties of trying to live a monastic life amidst the allurements of one of the world's most beguiling cities. But, the Livre de Vie asks, "Being torn in two directions, is this not the cross?" To be able to live in the city without succumbing to its worldliness, rules of life are spelled out in the Le Livre de Vie which provide for the monks and nuns an armor of fraternal charity, interior and exterior silence, and liberating poverty. Concrete community guidelines focus upon five related points: 1) Fraternal Life 2) Prayer 3) Work 4) Silence and 5) Welcome and Sharing. Fraternal Charity The Rule never ceases to demand love, both of humanity in general and, harder still, of each other. "Only a very great love can offer the world a legitimate and fair defiance," the Livre de Vie explains. "Our vocation is to be a theophany of the love of God, a living icon of the Trinity. There is no more beautiful liturgy, no more eloquent witness, than that of fraternal love. We must live in the heart of the city the mystery of that love." Along with such a sublimely beautiful articulation of theory, the rule gives some concrete sug-gestions for achieving it: "Ask each day that God pour into your heart love for your brothers, and also to place love for you in their hearts. God can refuse nothing to a community who prays this way., ask the trinitarian God to reveal to you the secret of his unity in plurality . In order to succeed in loving, become transparent. Let yourself be known and seek to know. Knowledge opens the way necessarily to love . Do not be content to be a brother of all; be also a friend of each . Pray that the monastic fraternity be entirely translucent to the Presence of the Word, as a foyer of Light . " Prayer Designedly, the community life of prayer has both very public and very private features. Compline is said in their own oratories, but for the monks, the other hours are sung in St. Gervais, with public participation. The p~riod of evening pra~;er begins around 5 p.m. At that time, monks, nuns and townspeople begin to gather for meditative prayer, followed by the evening office. The office flows into the liturgy about 6 p.m., which finally finishes about 7:15. On Thursday night, the monks keep a prayer vigil from 8 p.m. to 7 a.m. "Pray in the night in the center of the miseries and joys of the city, where ~God has placed you, as a watchman awaits the dawn," the Livre de Vie exhorts. The founders realized that the execution of such a horarium and liturgy each day could be draining; for that reason the communities have a poustinia (desert) time during Sunday afternoon and the full day of Monday, 342 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 which is spent in the country outside Paris. They join Parisians in the national custom of taking a grand vacance during the month of August. Work To support themselves, the members of the Fraternit~s must take jobs in the city. Guidelines demand that their work must be truly useful, prayerful, well executed, and bear witness to their professed poverty. In line with their vow of obedience, their job is chosen in consultation with the prior and council of the community. No job may be taken which could alienate or destroy their religious equilibrium. By a deliberate option to work only part time, they hope not only to free themselves for liturgical participation, but also to manifest to an acquisitive society their own disinterest in amassing wealth. Though they take menial jobs, there is no political aim or thrust to this option. "Ni Marx, ni Keynes, ni Mao. mais Jesus," declares the Livre de Vie. They are to have no role whatsoever in political life, since in that arena, divisions, confronta-tions and compromises are the rule of life. Instead, they are to manifest the Gospel of Peace in the polis by their lives of justice and truth. This alone is their "political" role. However, in an elocution to the community, Cardinal Marty urged them to be "revolutionary"-- but revolutionary in fidelity to their monastic commitment only. Silence To combat the noisy assaults of city streets, with their roaring, swirling masses of buses, autos, motorcycles and scurrying citizens, the monks and nuns are urged by rule to drink deeply of the wellsprings of prayerful silence: "At work, in the street, in your comings and goings, in the public transport, in the midst of the brouhaha of the city, carry interior silence with you. Take, each day, large expanses of silence, and when the evening comes, meditate on your couch in peace and silence. God lives in you; listen to him." Welcome and Sharing One purpose of the Fraternit~s is' to provide an enclave of such silence and peace for other Parisians. Guests are welcomed to full participation at the silent dinner served at their flower-bedecked wooden tables. In contrast to ~normal French custom, no wine, and little meat are to appear at the table. Round loaves of thick crusted, substantial bread form an important part of their diet: Though visitors are welcome, there are definite limits placed upon thepenetration of Paris (and the world in general) into the horarium of the monastic community. Afternoons are for lectio divina. The Livre de Vie tells the entering candidate to leave aside his address book, and to give up once and ~f for all shows and cinemas. Television has no part in their life, but a summary of the day's news is read at breakfast from the newspaper. Citadins of Paris / 343 Life-Style Guidelines for the community actually allow for a diversity of life-styles and a diversity of relationships to the community, within limits. However, only those who agree to follow the Livre de Vie may make final profession. Presently (1980) the Fraternit~s have the status of a pious union. After a postulancy of three months and a novitiate of two years, a candidate makes temporary profession "entre les mains" (between the hands) of the prior. After a period suitably long to discern a true vocation to the life, the bishop of the local church receives the perpetual profession of vows of the candidate in the local church, for the universal church. The coule blanche, the liturgical habit, has many sacred significances. It reminds the wearer of his white bap-tismal garment when he dons it. Its radiant whiteness recalls as well the Transfiguration and the angel on Easter morn, who wore a garment white as snow. The Ancient One in Daniel's vision had snow bright clothing, and a man in dazzling robes appeared to Cornelius in Acts. At home, the monks wear a short, blue hooded smock, topped by a wooden cross suspended from the neck. The latter is also worn with their street clothes. The sisters, like many other groups, have types of non-liturgical dress that vary with their jobs and mode of life. Several wear floor-length blue habits, veils and capes in the streets. Others wear the simple clothing of working women. Spiritual Wellsprings The founder acknowledges his debt to many traditions in developing the spirituality of the Fraternit6s: to Benedict, Dominic, Augustine, Theresa of Avila, the Early Eastern Fathers, Charles de Foucauld, and above all, to the first Christian community described in Acts, as well as the fraternity immediately surrounding Jesus Christ himself. The Livre de Vie and Au Coeur des Villes are liberally enriched with quotes from sources as widespread in time as St. John Cassian and Catherine de Hueck. Believing that communal self-sufficiency in spiritual matters is ossifying, members are urged to nourish themselves on outside resources. The candidate is encouraged to spend a week at a school of prayer at Troussures, France, and make a retreat at a monastery such as St. Benoit sur Loire. Finally, a month-long desert experience at a place like Assekrem, Morocco, is encouraged. Future Plans It is quite evident that this group has tried to proceed every step of the way attuned to the promptings of the Spirit. The Fraternit6s have been invited to bring their type of monasticism to various cities. So far, they have accepted one invitation: under the priorship of Bishop Michel Marie Darmencieo, a member of the Fraternit6, they now are situated at St. Victor's Church at Marseilles, the scene of a monastery established by St. John Cassian. By rule, the community is forbidden to own property or t6 build anything. Wherever they go, they must rent their dwelling place. Into whatever city they do go, ~i44 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 ~they will enter with the purpose expressed in the explanatory sheet distributed in St. Gervais; to "experien.ce the difficulties, alienations, struggles, work, constraints, fatigue, noise, pollution, pains and joys, the sin and the holiness" of the city. Wherever they go, they likewise bear with them the spirit expressed in the Livre de Vie: "Do not forget that the community where you live is the privileged part of the universe where you are to situate yourself. May your monastery be first of all a part of the world where there is life, where love is shared, where joy, work, fervor, praise and peace are to be found. As at home, so also in the world. Reveal and find God in the heart of the world; remember its first beauty and anticipate its happiness to come. In the desert of the urban world may your monastery be an oasis of peace, prayer and joy; an epiphany of Love." On the final page of the Livre de Vie, Psalm 136 is transcribed: . If l forget you Jerusalem, Maymy right hand wither. One does not easily forget a liturgy at St. Gervais in communion with Les Fraternit~s Monastiques de Jerusalem. End of Drought 1 half awoke last night And wondered if I'd heard Soft whisperings outside my window. 1 was about to go back and continue my dream Then 1 stopped--and listened again. Yes, it was true A gentle rain Soft falling on my lawn. The bone cracked earth and croaking grackles Could drink again. It was a stealthy rain Loathe to intrude on the silent sleepers. Then in the morning it blew full blast And blessed the farmers and the flowers. Sr. Mary Margaret O'Grady Holy Ghost Convent 301 Yucca Street San Antonio, Texas 78203 Transfer to a Contemplative Community Marie Beha, O.S.C. Sister Marie's last article in these pages, "The Discernment of the Contemplative Vocation," appeared in the January 1981 issue. Her address remains: 1916 N. Pleasantburg Dr.; Greenville, SC 29609. These very days of your transition are perhaps the time when everything in you is working at him. Rainer Maria Rilke Though the changes in religious life consequent upon Vatican 1I are still too recent for adequate evaluation, they are beginning, at least, to come into the focus of observable patterns. One of these is the phenomenon of transfers from one religious congregation to another. A small but significant number of religious have opted to remain in religious life, but to live out their vowed commitment in another community. Perhaps this .emerging pattern will have something important to say about the future of religious life itself, and about the kinds of communities that have a future. However, any such speculation seems very premature at this point. What is immediate is the process itself, and what it means for individuals and for their communities. A few workshops have been devoted to this process of transferring, and several articles have appeared describing some of its pains and joys. But, for the most part, what has been presented is the movement from one apostolic congregation to another. The present article wishes to focus on transfers from an apostolic community to a contemplative one, a process that relates not only to the transfer phenomenon but also to that growing concern for prayer, and 345 346 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 especially for contemplative prayer, which has been one of the most hearten-ing aspects of the contemporary renewal of religious life. Transferring from one apostolic congregation to another has its own dynamics, quite distinct from what is involved in making the transition into contemplative community life. Failure to appreciate this difference makes it more difficult for communities and for individuals to cooperate with the promise and to evaluate the phenomenon. At the same time there are elements common to any such transferring--questions, for example, of the danger in-herent in the change, the discernment of motivation, as well as the paschal grace of such uprooting and coming into new life. It is the purpose of this paper to present some of these aspects as they are experienced in unique ways by the "contemplative transfer." Dangers and Difficulties To begin with a warning is only appropriate when there is real danger and when the danger may not be immediately evident. Such seems to be the case in regard to transferring. The process of transfer can be dangerous and the danger remain somewhat hidden, since the holiness of the objective may obscure a faulty theology undergirding the process, some confusion about growth in prayer, along with some elements of escapism and/or mixed motivations. The consequences of transfer can be as serious as the loss of religious vocation for the individual and the disruption of peace for both communities involved. Faulty theology may present the contemplative, monastic community as a more "perfect" form of religious life, even downplaying the importance of apostolic involvement as "too worldly." Since any vocational choice can only be evaluated in terms of the person choosing, speaking of an objective "state of perfection" seems to miss the point. Just as religious life itself can be termed a more perfect state (even in the Vatican II terminology ofPerfectae Caritatis) without implying that it would be so for any particular individual, so too, could some such judgment be made about contemplative life. But what is "~ important for the individual to consider is what is better for himself, not what is "more perfect" in the abstract and the general. Moreover, a spiritual theology which rests on the assumption that "one must always do the more perfect" is doomed to run into danger on the rocks of human limitation. Such perfectionism threatens strain and excessive preoccupation with self, neither of which fosters a contemplative spirit. Even for those who are immune from such a false theology, there remains a possible confusion about development in prayer. Sometimes a call to contemplative prayer is translated into a call to monastic life--with conse-quent loss.for the whole Christian community. The transition from a form of prayer that is more active to one that is more passive is a difficult time for anyone. Thomas Dubay has called this the "crack" period in religious development, and it may be compared with the difficulties and crises that are Transfer to a Contemplative Community part of any of the transitions from one life-stage to another. Such critical times do not provide the stability that makes possible good life-choices. Growth into a more contemplative form of prayer is actually part of the development that can be considered "normal" for most persons who are serious about prayer. It says more about the munificence of God's gifts and his desire to be one with us, than about any need to change communities. The latter is a very different kind of call and consequently, one that needs to be discerned separately. Transferring to a contemplative monastery during a crisis time in prayer might mask a reluctance to face the difficulties of persevering in prayer during times of dryness. Individuals may imagine that once they are enclosed, distractions will disappear and consolations will return--in abundance. They will be quickly disabused of such hopes in the everyday of monastic living. Even the prospect of having ample time provided for prayer will prove to hold its own challenge. For "more time" can also mean "more demands": more awareness of distractions, more painful dryness. Add to this all the unsettle-ments that are bound to be part of such a radical adjustment as transferring and prayer may well prove to be even more difficult than before. Similarly, any secret desire to escape the challenges of renewal or to insulate oneself from painful community relationships will be tested in the closeness of contemplative community. Unfortunately, some religious seem to equate monastic religious life with the kind of structured life in community that prevailed before Vatican II. So the desire to transfer can spring from a search for a more compatible expression of apostolic religious life, rather than ~t'~a genuine contemplative vocation. In reality contemplative communities have been just as much affected by Vatican II renewal as have apostolic congrega-tions. Changes, for example, in the living out of enclosure have caused just as many painful tensions as have adaptations in apostolic involvement. Struc-tures have developed in both forms of religious life and will continue to do so. Renewal requires participation, not escape, no matter where one is called to live. Nor does a transfer necessarily ease the tensions of community relation-ships. On the contrary, living in the close, everyday proximity of enclosed community may only heighten such tensions. Spending all one's days with the very same people, in a restricted area and with a limited sphere of activity can never provide escape from the interpersonal. "Contempla(ive community" actually requires a well-developed capacity for sharing life with others, including a delicate balance between intimacy and a respect for solitude which enables one to live with others in a silence that communicates life. In a similar way, an authentic call to transfer is anything but an escape from apostolic involvement. On the contrary, what will be needed is a vibrant desire to be given to and for the sake of others, joined with a faith that is strong enough to translate this call into an everyday service that is not sustained by any immediately tangible results. So if a person is dissatisfied with the :348 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 results of his apostolic work, it would be foolish to try and escape into the even less satisfying life of faith that is the "labor" of the contemplative. And if anyone hopes to find a variety of stimulating options within the everyday tasks of contemplative community, he will be rapidly disillusioned. Even the more plausible motivation of resolving a conflict between prayer and activity can speak more of escapism than of genuine call. Vocation is not discerned negatively, but only through such positive signs as a genuine desire for a life of prayer (not just more time for prayer) and a belief that this self-gift will bear fruit in and for the Church. Such positive criteria for discern-ment will be presented in more detail in the following section of this paper. These, then, are a few of the hidden dangers rising from faulty theology, a confusion about growth in prayer, and tendencies to eseapism, which could prompt an individual to transfer for the wrong reasons. Still to be considered are some of the real dangers involved in the process itself both in terms of the individual and of the communities involved. When a person professes vows, the commitment is made to God, but it is made within the context of a particular community, and this communitarian aspect is not to be changed lightly. Though made by man and so changeable in itself, life in community embodies a call that is divine and eternal. In all its particularity, community gives a specific form to vocation. While not of the essence, still this form may be a very important, even necessary, condition for vocation to grow and flourish. Consequently, changing from one community to another risks undermining the stability of the individual's commitment. If the new community does not provide the hoped-for environment, return to the former one may prove to be impossible and so a vocation may be lost. Other risks inherent in transferring center around the extent of adjustment which will certainly be profound. "Culture shock" is almost inevitable. Even though the "natives" of the adopted community speak "English," still new values, different associations will make it difficult to discover the meaning of words and actions, of response, and of nonverbal communication. The result will be a feeling of lostness and confusion that cannot be met by something as simple as asking questions. For there are no words in which to phrase the ques-tions, no answers that make sense. There may even be an unnerving lack of awareness that something has been "misunderstood" until confusion has deepened into a cloud as indefinite and suffusing as fog: Similarly homesickness for one's community of origin can be even more profound than the feeling that accompanied one's first leaving home for the convent. For the home that is now being left has claimed more of one's adult life and so has called for a freer choice, a more committed response. To leave ~one's family for .the sake of forming new life-bonds is part of the naturalpro-cess of growth and development. But leaving the community of one's first choice for another is not so natural, and the consequences are often profound and disturbing. In the process a certain spirit of criticism can develop. This may even bea necessary part of discernment as one reevaluates call and response, one's own Transfer to a Contemplative Community / ~149 vocation and that of both communities involved. But such critical reflection can become a pattern of thinking that keeps one on the periphery, "watching" and judging way beyond the period when this stance is necessary. This spirit of uninvolved criticism chips away at commitment and makes participation in community impossible. Such are a few of the real dangers involved for individuals who are con-sidering transfer'ring. What are the risks for the communities? Loss of membership in the original community is one obvious area of concern--not just the obvious matter of a person leaving this community to join another. What may be far more painful is the kind of vocational questioning that can arise among other members of the parent community. Such reevaluation may be wholesome, if it leads to renewed discernment of and commitment to one's own vocational choice. But it can also be weakening if it simply adds to diminished morale, feelings of hopelessness and that sense of disillusionment that plagues so many during times of transition. Similarly, the community receiving the transfer can have its peace dis-turbed if the new member, already a formed religious, brings along an incom-patible spirituality together with an undocile mind and heart. Within the closeness of contemplative community, such lack of harmony can be pro-foundly disturbing to all, with consequent loss of service to the whole Church. Such are the dangers in~,olved, both for individuals and for communities. The difficulties are real; the cost is certainly not minimal. The basic question is, then: Is transferring worth theprice? Are the real risks offset by still greater advantages? Are there compensations for the dangers? Yes, if transferring ac-tualizes a more personalized call-response, leading to still deeper commit-ment. When such is the case, not only will the individual find fuller life in the Lord, but both communities involved will also be enriched; such is the unity of all members in the one Body of Christ. The whole question of transferring, then, seems to hinge on the validity of this new call-within-a-call. Theologically such development is possible since the only absolute fidelity in this special covenant relationship is found in a God "whose love is everlasting." The response of any individual can only par-ticipate in this love through an ongoing "creative fidelity" aimed at fashion-ing all life's choices in the light of an original baptismal commitment. The direction for such responsiveness will always be toward greater specificity, a more personal love. Though this ongoing response will be shaped within the context of a particular community, this form, while remaining important, is still only conditional. It may be changed, if this will serve to realize more closely one's first commitment t6 the Lord. Particularly, then, for our present purposes the issue revolves around discernment of an authentic call to transfer from apostolic to contemplative life. Discernment an Authentic Call to Transfer What might be some of the signs that one is being called to deepen one's ~i50 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 baptismal commitment by transferring religious profession from an apostolic congregation to a contemplative community? Here we shall suggest a few of the practical ways in which the traditional vocational criteria of desire, right motivation, and ability to live the life, are evidenced in the case of a proposed ttransfer. \ A long-term desire for contemplative life seems one of the clearest signs that someone should undertake the risks of making a transfer. In many cases, this desire was already present at the time the individual entered religious life but, for a variety of reasons, it was never actualized. Circumstances may simply have made it impossible; ignorance or poor advice may also have con-tributed. So the desire was put aside, perhaps completely forgotten. Profes-sion was made, and that commitment lived out wholeheartedly and with joy. But years later the desire for contemplative life reappears. Sometimes it is recognized as a familiar part of one's past; sometimes it comes as a new and surprising idea with recognition only following later. In either case, such con-tinuity with the past provides a sense of direction in the unfolding of one's per-sonal salvational history. Even when.the desire for contemplative life is not remembered or recogniz-ed as part of one's past, at some point in the present the emergence of this desire becomes so strong that it can no longer be ignored. When first en-countered consciously, the desire is more often a matter of wanting to live out contemplative values rather than a careful comparison/choice of active-i verSus-comtemplative community. A whole life devoted to prayer, supported and challenged by a community of other "pray-ers," by solitude and silence, combined with a very simple, even austere style of life: these are some of the values that become increasingly important. As desire for them grows, so, too, does the longing for a way of living them out more fully and completely. At first this may be met by providing more time for prayer, arranging to live in a prayer-centered local community or one which is experimenting with a simpler way of living. For some, such restructuring of life-style is the answer; for others this is not enough, and the desire continues to grow. A period in a House of Prayer may be another option and, once again, this may provide the right balance of prayer and active apostolate for certain individuals. For others, the quest must continue simply because the desire for a purely con-templative life continues, increases, and must ultimately be met in life. This longing for a way to live out contemplative values may lead one final-ly to a moment of realization and choice. Apostolic religious life can no longer ~provide the support, stimulation, structure for the kind of contemplative life to which the religious feels called. And at this point, transferring becomes a matter of vocational decision. Such recognition is eminently paschal, filled as it is with the painful realization that one must leave behind his "homeland" and "pass over" a desert of unknowns. Yet there is also joy, an anticipation that what lies ahead promises more life, deeper peace. Even the pain of leaving the congregation of one's first profession is somewhat tempered by the realization that unless he Transfer to a Contemplative Community had given of himself there, had truly identified, there would be no loss now. Nor would there be much hope of future success. This experience of having been fully part of one's original congregation, of having found peace and joy in community there, is almost a presupposition of any authentic call to transfer. Someone who has not been happy originally probably will not find any more satisfaction in contemplative life. On the other hand, an individual who has known what it means to give himself to community and in community may come to realize that another successful identification is possible, even though it will be made with some pain. This returns us to the whole complex question of motivation. Why should an individual who has already made profession consider transferring his com-mitment to a contemplative community? In the preceding section we examined a whole series of false motivations, including poorly founded theological prin-ciples, escapism, and an inadequate understanding of contemplative life. These need to be confronted, not in the safety of abstraction, but in the reality of one's own life-experience, and with the realistic help of others who know the individual and both forms of religious life. Of even greater importance is the discerning of positive motivation, since a mere lack of obstacles does not give clear indication that a person ought to go ahead in a certain new life direc-tion. Vocation is positive call, not just an absence of negative criteria. To ask the "why" of one's motivation is important and fruitful but only so long as one keeps in mind that the "answer" cannot be found by adding up worttiy reasons, for, in the last analysis, human motivation remains mystery. It can never be known in its totality, with certainty. The reasons we give are, at best, approximations, and the final answer to the "why" is found only in the living out of the decision. Having recognized that a list of reasons never adds up to certitude, still it can be an indicator that an individual should risk the time and energy of a fur-ther discernment in actual life. Very often the "why" of a transfer can only be phrased in an unsatisfying "because, somehow, I can do nothing else." Such an experience of almost necessity, of inability to do anything else with one's life until this pressing question has been answered, may be an uncomfortable, but true indicator of basic motivation. Such necessity, though, is not a matter of compulsiveness, but rather of a freedom that grows, once the internal logic of choice has been admitted and acted upon. A person may come to discover that his whole movement of life has been in the direction of contemplative vocation, though the surface geography of his activities has been quite different. These very differences may even have been unconscious protest. Such, for example, is the case of an individual who has been a strong advocate of apostolic spirituality, of social involvement, of variety in ministries. All the while, what the person has been seeking on the deepest level, is a way of giving himself completely to the Lord. All the above are real ways; all have been tried. But all still leave something "wanting." "How can I be more giving?" becomes less of a question to be considered. Now it demands an answer that must be made in life. ~52 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 Traditionally, someone entering the monastery is asked, "What do you seek?" If the first answer, not just in liturgy, but in life is "The Lord," then there is good hope that what is being sought will be found. This is not to say that the person considering transfer has not already "found the Lord." But, like the good Christian who considers religious life just because of his previous discovery of the Lord, so too the individual who seriously considers transfer should only be desirous of greater union, a kind of intimacy that, for this par-ticular individual, seems more realizable in contemplative community. Put in still more concrete terms, someone who is already a religious may apply for a transfer because he experiences a desire to give prayer an absolute priority of time, energy, life-focus. In apostolic religious life, consideration of the needs of others, and of one's response to these needs, must always be cen-tral to discernment; this seems to be the meaning of apostolic spirituality. In monastic life, however, the central concern is the totality of life of prayer, and it is this dedication to prayer which becomes one's service to others. Consequently, the desire to give oneself to others through total dedication in prayer is central to any discernment of contemplative vocation, and this becomes even more critical when there is a question of transfer. This is because the person desirous of transfer has already internalized a spirituality of active, direct service, and his transition to a quite different orientation may not come easily or quickly, But unless an individual can come to see silence, solitude, simple manual work, austerity of life-style as contributing to a life of abiding prayer, and further, believe that personal prayer, lectio and liturgy are one's own call to building up the Body of Christ, then contemplative, monastic life will seem empty and fruitless. Moreover, such belief cannot re-main an intellectual assent, nor even an abstract faith-value; it must become personal conviction and motivation for life. Ultimately, then, desire and motivation are just the beginnings of discern-tment for a contemplative vocation. Only by living the life can the presence or absence of God's enabling grace be discovered. So let us conclude by sug-gesting some of the areas which will be particularly relevant in the life-testing of a call to transfer from apostolic to contemplative religious life. Will the potential transfer-person be able to go beyond the initial obstacles of radical adjustment with all its attendant anxiety, of separation from the original community which has provided so much of his identity and emotional support? Put in more positive terms, will the person, first of all, "survive" the transfer? For some, the culture shock, already alluded to, is so severe that there is consequent loss of health or debilitating emotional disturbance. And this, not just in the first crisis of adjustment, where it might well be expected, but increasingly as time goes on. When this happens, life experience leads to a negative discernment. On the contrary, when the Spirit is truly inspiring a person to make the transfer, then, despite the pain, growth will occur. Radical adjustment, separation anxiety, culture shock will all be in the service of conversion. The Transfer to a Contemplative Community / 353 individual will grow and grow in contemplative ways. A new identity will begin to emerge when the more familiar response of teacher, nurse, "member of." are no longer applicable. There will be a new appreciation for one's unique giftedness as person, simply because one is and one exists as a special expression of the Father's creative love. Growth will also occur through positive identification with the new com-munity. Ac.ceptance takes time but gradually new relationships will be formed, an individual will fit in, and his suitability for the life will be confirmed by the response of the community. What begins in strangeness will end in familiarity. For example, enclosure will no longer be a matter of adjustment, perhaps of difficulty, but will evolve into a simple means of ensuring the kind of solitude necessary for prayer. Prayer, in its turn, will grow and deepen. The regular praying of the Liturgy of the Hours in choir will no longer be unfamiliar ritual, nor frequent "interruption," but regular nourishment and opportunity for praise. The simplicity of the life, far from being monotonous, will lead to peace, making possible a "richness" of response that can only be sustained within a somewhat austere life-style. All of this, however, takes time. It requires effort on the part of the one who transfers; it requires also acceptance and assistance on the part of the community. Above all, it requires the empowering grace of God's call. When all of these are present, and when the passing of months and even years has allowed for a new identity to be formed, then the transferred person will final-ly come to recognize himself as a contemplative, a member of his new com-munity. The past will merge into this new present and integration will occur. For example, former skills and talents will find new expressions or will be sacrificed, "counted as nothing," in view of something still more worthwhile. Painful parts of the past will be healed; grateful remembering will allow all that has been to be incorporated into the present and open the way to the future. In short, adjustment will make way for gradual growth, and this growth will be in the direction of incorporation into the new community. When this occurs, the transfer will have been accomplished, and a new identification will have been made. The individual, as well as both communities, will be enriched, because, whenever life is lived more fully, the w.hole Body of Christ is vitalized. Let me conclude with a comparison. Among the old Irish monks, the grace of martyrdom was described in three ways: the "red" martyrdom of shedding one's blood, the "white" martyrdom of desire to give One's life for the sake of the gospel, and finally, the "green" martyrdom of exile, of pilgrimage and ac-cepted separation for the sake of new life in Christ. The transferred person may well find the grace of this unique vocation expressed in the hope-filled "green" of separation from what is familiar, good, loved, for the sake of greater union-- in contemplative community. The Right to Solitude Roman Ginn, O.C.S.O. Father Ginn, a monk of Gethsemani Monastery in Kentucky, has been living as a hermit in Latin America for the past fourteen years. His last article, "The Ladder of Prayer," appeared in the January, 1980 issue. Father Ginn's marling address is: Apartado 44; Huajuapan de Leon; Oaxaca, Mexico. The renewed interest in hermitical life during the last three decades should not be viewed with alarm but as a rediscovery of one of the first and most traditional forms of contemplative life. This rediscovery is taking place at a time when men are becoming more aware of their essential needs and rights. Speaking in the Music Council assembled by UNESCO, the violinist, Yehudi Menuhin, declared some twenty years ago that silence is one of man's princi-pal needs and concluded: "I hope that the right to silence will be recognized as being as important as the right to pure water and air." But the same claim should be extended to solitude. For if man is a social being who cannot develop as a person in perpetual solitude, in a very true sense he is also an un-social being who experiences the impersonality and artificiality unavoidable in relations with others (excepting perhaps with those who form his intimate cir-cle) as a kind of violence. The person's relation with society is problematic and neither his need for communication nor for solitude can be left unsatisfied without damage. But how can solitude be called aoneed and a right? Neither primitive peoples nor children feel any such need. But this is because they do not see it as a positive value but as isolation. Even the ea,rly Hebrews missed its positive side. They regarded solitude as an evil, a co~nsequence of sin, and promised God's special protection to those .moist exposed to it: the poor, widows, strangers and orphans. The Greeks however attained a positNe view of it. The hero of the Greek tragedies lives in a solitude that is both a condemnation and 354 ~ The Right to Solitude / :355 a privilege. Sophocles, for example, presents Oepidus as passing from a period of painful isolation into a new form of solitude that has something divine about it. But even if the Hebrews never escaped from a negative concept of solitude, they discovered the key to its understanding as a positive reality. For they gradually realized that each must 'learn to separate from the collectivity and face God and his will as an individual as well'as a member of society. They also saw that God could call some individuals to positions of confrontation with society which would force them to live in isolation. But they never managed to transform this isolation into a privileged situation and a means of closer union with God. So, without grasping the value of their discovery, they passed on the secret that man's development as a person is somehow connected with his ability to temporally break his ties to society in order to take possession of himself as a unique reality, an individual and responsible I. They present Jeremiah, for example, living through an isolation he deplores without know-ing how it is slowly transforming him from a timid, village youth into God's iron, ~ The oriental religions appreciated solitude as something positive long before the coming of Christ. Early Buddhist texts are full of its praise as a means of spiritual development. Even though Buddha himself later prescribed communal life for his followers, he never lost his esteem for solitude. In a statement preserved by the Itivattka, for example, he says: "O monks, have your dwelling and delights in solitude. Rejoice in solitude, dedicated to mental calmness in the depths of your selves, without forgetting to meditate, penetrated .with intuition; seek your dwelling in desert spots." The Udana records the story of the monk Bhaddiya who lived in a mango forest. Passersby had often heard him repeating over and over: "What happiness!" When they told Buddha about him, he called the monk and asked for an ex-planation. Bhaddiya replied: ¯ Sir, before, when i was a layman and enjoyed royal power as the father of a family, I had guards distributed both inside and outside my palace . And in spite of the fact that I was protected and safeguarded in such a way, I lived tormented by fear, restless, suspicious, frightened. Now, sir, wherever I find myself in the woods, under a tree or in a solitary spot, even though I am alone, I live without fear, tranquil, trustful, without trepidation, unworried, in peace, with whatever others give me, with my mind as free as a forest animal. This is why I repeat: "What happiness, what happiness." The poetic sections of the Buddhist canon love to use images of forest animals to describe the advantages of the solitary life. "Like a lion that over-comes everything, that wanders victorious as king of the forest, visiting its most distant corners and unfrightened by rumors." The solitary individual is likewise compared to the elephant and rhinoceros. The localities chosen by the first followers of Buddha as most apt for the pursuit of their end are another indication of the positive value they saw in solitude: mountains, forests, caves and cemeteries. 356 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 When Christian monasticism appeared in the mid-third century, it manifested a similar love for solitude, inspired of course by Jesus' example (See Mr. 4). Like their Oriental brothers, the Christian monks regarded it as the mother of the spiritual life. Cassian felt that normally the more solitude a monk had, the greater was his perfection.He put his third conference on the lips of Abbot Paphnutius, who lived in such inaccessible places that even other hermits "only with great difficulty caught a glimpse of him every now and then." Such a man was fittingly surnamed the Buffalo. But the fact that most of the praises of solitude in the early Church originated with monks (or ex-monks like St. John Chrysostom) does not mean it was something that concerned them alone. If they exploited it more than others, it was only because in general they took Christian life more seriously, and experienced the positive role of solitude in its development. Their appraisal has been confirmed by modern philosophers. Kierkegaard among Christian, and Nietzsche among non-Christian thinkers strongly stress the importance of solitude for personal development, If they exaggerate, this is only a perhaps necessary reaction to modern society's fear and devaluation of solitude. Nietzsche makes it the supreme value, one indispensable for the growth of all others. For a Christian it can only be a means, even though one - greatly neglected today. As the Greeks saw and the Hebrews sensed without clearly understanding, solitude reveals man's deepest self to him making it possible for him to become aware of his interior resources and discover meaning in his life. Because of its value in helping the individual pass from the suggestion of the collectivity to the liberty of maturity, it is a basic human right that must be carefully p~eserved. For the Christian it is also the entrance into that most sacred and secret .region of the person--his interiority--where union with God takes place. As St. Augustine loves to repeat, God is in the most intimate part of us. He is more truly within us than we are. Even after one has experienced enough solitude to develop into a mature person, periods of it will continue to be necessary, during which one's self-possession may be renewed. Otherwise a gradual self-alienation can set in that will prevent the individual from entering into deep and lasting communion with others and will allow him or her to sink into the negative solitude of isola-tion. Positive and voluntary solitude is a good way to prevent negative solitude. Such periods of solitude should not be used to sleep or simply rest in, but to feel out one's roots actively and become more one's true self before God. Only by doing this will the individual again become fit for fruitful rela-tions with others. There is al~;ays a danger however that we will turn solitude into an ab-solute, and be tempted to stay there. This would not be right, for God calls very few to follow in Abbot Paphnutius' footsteps. Too many buffalos would upset the Church's spiritual ecology. The ideal in most Christian lives will always be a happy balance betw~ei~ solitude and s6ciety, as Jesus himself lived The Right to Solitude / 357' it. To stay longer in solitude than God wills can lead to spiritual sterility. But after all the danger of overstaying one's time in solitude is not great. For, as many who have attempted hermitical life during the last thirty years have discovered, if the solitude is real, it will become unbearable for someone who does not belong there. As one of the Desert Fathers remarked: "The desert vomits out those whom God has not called into it." Covenanl The Father knocks at my door seeking a home for his son: Rent is cheap, 1 say. I don't want to rent. I want to buy, says God. I'm not sure 1 want to sell, but you might come in to look around. 1 think 1 will, says God. I might let you have a room or two. 1 like it, says God. 1'11 take the two. You might decide to give me more some day. 1 can wait, says God. I'd like to give you more, but it's a bit difficult. I need some space for me. I know, says God, but I'll wait. I like what 1 see. Hm, maybe 1 can let you have another room. 1 really don't need that much. Thanks, says God. 1'11 take it. I like what 1 see. I'd like to give you the whole house but I'm not sure-- Think on it~ says' God. 1 wouldn't put you out. Your house would be mine and my son would live in it. You'd have more space than you'd ever had before. 1 don't understand at all. I know, says God, but 1 can't tell you about that. You'll have to discover it for yourself. That can only happen if you let him have the whole house. A bit risky, 1 say. Yes, says God, but try me. I'm not sure-- 1'11 let you know. I can wait, says God. 1 like what I see. Margaret Halaska, osf On Being a Superior Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Father Meenan resides in the Jesuit community of 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Though it may seem strange, .I would like to begin a treatment of the role of the superior by reflecting for a bit on the phrase we so often use, "Thy will be done." When prayed, as in the Our Father, does it make any sense at all, when you think about it? Is there, for instance, some ,super-God" to whom the prayer is addressed, asking that he take care of God so that he makes sure that God's will gets done? Or maybe God doesn't know what his will is, so we pray, "Hope you find out." Perhaps God is in a struggle, so that our prayer is equivalently, "Hope you win!" In other words, this phrase doesn't make much sense--if you just take it at its face value. But I think that the phrase does begin to make sense when ! begin to realize that, in using those words in prayer, I've taken a stand. Whether I join my will to his in prayer or not, his will is simply going to be done. What I am saying when I use those words is, "I want his will to be done. I 'want in' on the whole process. I want to be involved." And so there is a commitment of myself to the project when I say, "Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done." Then the prayer begins to make sense because it takes me from the luxury of being a bystander and puts me right in the middle of things. It begins to make me hungry that his will be done. And then, in truth, it becomes the prayer of my heart. Then it becomes a real prayer--and a fruitful starting point for a reflection on the role of being superior. The problem is that the words come too easily. The problem is that I have grown up with the words, and I lose track of them, of what they say. The problem is that I have said them too often. I fiave gotten used to them. And so they lose the force they should have: that there is a great project afoot, and I want to be involved in it. And this, basically, is what this article on the role of 358 On Being a Superior / 359 / the superior is going to be about: God's will for the person who is superior in t the exercise of the office of being superior. For purposes of this article, I don't care about the sociology of leadership. I don't care about the psychological dimensions of community. And I certainly don't care about the canonical details of implementing the office. What I do care about is the~spiritual a___.__~sp.e__~c_t 9 fob_ei_.o.ng s__~up.e~r_ior, of getting a feel for the role of being a superior. I care about the conviction that one has in exercising the office of superior. Conviction is going to involve feeling, precisely because one's whole person is involved in the truth of what he is saying when he speaks or acts from conviction. What I would hope to evoke in the course of this article is a conviction, a felt truth, that locates the person, invests the person, identifies the person in what he knows. To this end, I would invite the person who is superior to share with me, through these pages, in a meditation. I.f we are going to make a meditation together, we ought to have a "com-position of place." For this, I have chosen Peter at the lakeside, after the Resurrection, when, according to John's gospel, Christ said to Peter, "Feed my sheep'." Just before this, he had asked Peter, "Do you love me more than these?" Isn't it a shame how cheap we have made the word "love" today? What does it mean to say, "I love you more than these"? The question is important because what is at issue is the building of a life on the love of God. But how do we know if we do love God? Is our confidence in our love go-ing to come out of our feelings? Well, for most of us, God isn't "real" enough for us to have very strong feelings about--except rarely. And probably in those moments, often enough, the individual is deluded. In point of fact, most of the days of my life, I don't feel love for God. How do I know, then, if I love him enough to be able to build a life on love? t/~ I f I love, I will do the work of love. I f love is there, the fruit of love will be there. If I am concerned about the things of the Lord, about him and his kingdom and his service and his glory, then I know I love. I don't care what I feel. I know I love, because the fruits of love are there. Even here, though, the issue is not all that clear, simply because I can also fake the fruits of love. I can ape them. I can do great and good things, noble and glorious things--without love. I can do them just because I am ambitious, or because I hate to leave things untidy and have a neurotic concern for neatness, or because I want to be noticed, or because I have career preferences, or because I have a developed sense of responsibility, or because the easiest way to be invisible is to be merely and conventionally competent since, if there are no problems in my sector, nobody is going to stick his nose into it--and that is what I want t'o be, invisible. What is done for any of these reasons does, I suppose, represent the "works of love," but these works stem out of my love for myself in one fashion or another, not out of my love for God. 360 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 In determining the presence or absence of the love of God, then, it is clear that the intention is going to be very important--not the expressed intention, but the real intention. And the real intention is in the heart and soul, lying under the words I use to express it. The grace of our meditation will be the grace not to be deaf to God's call, but prompt and diligent to do his most holy will. If being superior is a chore, a task for an individual, then that individual is going to fail. If it is not a work of love, then at best he will be merely a good administrator. At best, he will make the canonists happy. But if being a superior is a response to God's call, if there is an eagerness to be prompt and diligent to do his will, then the person will not be the performer of mere tasks: he will be a superior. 'From what has just been written, it is clear that I am convinced that being ¯ superior is a very definable, concrete, explicit vocation from Almighty God to a particular individual. In terms of this call, God says to those whom he sum-mons in this fashion, "Feed my sheep," which is the core reality of the voca-tion of being a superior. You see, being a superior is a vocation, a call from God. It is much more concrete than one's'~all to enter a congregation. It is more clearly defined than one's professional competence. In the present circumstance of the Church, superiors have a definite term: a beginning, a measurable beginning, middle, and end to this concrete call that they have. Their call includes definite areas of responsibility, rather more clear than in the usual run of job descriptions. The superior has a definite flock to be fed. Being a superior, then, is easily discernible. Is it really a call? We religious have a way of using all sorts of pious vocabulary with a great deal of conviction--so long as we are talking about somebody else. We have all attended at one time or another the circumstances of somebody else's tragedy, when it's easy for us to see that tragedy so clearly in terms of God's providence for them and for the victim. But when it comes to ourselves, somehow we find that our faith is rather more brittle. Too often for us religious, it is very easy to isolate "God's providence" into some abstract awareness of God as "Lord of History" because, for example, of what .he did to Israel, what he's done to the Church, what he's doing in the history of the world at the present time. Is God, though, Lord of your life? If he is Lord of yliofue,r then how can you explain the meaning of being superior, if not in terms of his Lordship? Is God faithful and loving? Because, if he is, how are you going to explain being superior save in terms of his faithful, loving exercise of Lordship in your regard? We can see how it gets to be a bit more difficult to be quite so confident of the "providence of God" when it begins to reach closer to home. It is much easier to see him as Lord of others than as Lord of myself. Does God care for the congregation? If he doesn't care for the congrega-tion, then he couldn't care less who was superior. If he does care for the con-d gregation, then he must care very much about who is superior--though this On Being a Superior does not mean at all that he has chosen the best possible person. It doesn't mean that he has chosen the most competent person. It doesn't even mean that he has chosen an able person. It just means that he has chosen a person. He has exer-cised a definite, deliberate choice in wanting you to be a superior of his com-munity for which he cares very much, in regard to which he says toyou, "Feed my sheep." It is time now to return to the reflection with which we begari regarding our earnestness for God's will. How earnest are we for God's will? Not out there, ~not in the future, but here and now. The,fact is that either God is not God at all, or he has call~ed you to b____~e a superior. If he has called you, he has expressed his will. You can choose to ignore it if you--want, but you cannot intelligently deny this fact without denying that God is God. b\ Being a superior is a vocation to do what? To feed his sheep in all the ways that make sense. His.sheep are workers in his vineyard, and the superior's feeding of his sheep is going to include nurturing their capacity to work in his vineyard--to be apostles. His sheep are your sisters or brothers in Christ. These are not vague groups of girls or boys that walk in the front door of an institution. These are your sisters or brothers in Christ, persons who have a call to the community that you say you love. These are the sheep that he has entrusted to you to be nourished by you. If all of this is true, then the only adequate approach to exercising the i office of superior is going to be as an act of religion. The alternative is to ex-clude God from your individual salvation history, the salvation history of your congregation, and the salvation history of the Church and world today. Therefore it follows that the key which unlocks the whole mystery of being a ~ superior is going to be found in the area of acts of religion--which is the same area that includes the taking of your vows in the first place. This is the same area, too, that envelops your whole prayer life. This is in the same area as your whole living for God. If this is true, then the individual is going to want to be a superior after the mind and thought and heart of Christ. His mode of being a superior is going to be the expression of his r~ligious involvement in God's will--or it is nothing. In seeking to make this act of religion real, the superior will make use of many aids to help him. But it is the act of religion that is going to give life to the whole process. So the superior will make use of whatever he can learn from management theory, from the psychology of the human person, from the sociology of community. He will make use of all these because they are tools given into his hands, tools that make it possible for him the better to enflesh into reality the act of religion that is his response to God's call. But if this religious response is not effectively there, if the soul of the pro-cess isn'~ present, all that's left is'a corpse. And no psychologist is ever going to make a corpse come alive. If all a superior does is to oversee the production of a corpse, then he would be better off seeking a position on a middle- 369 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 management level of some large corporation and make cars for the rest of his life. At least it would be a safer way of wasting his life; and he would only be touching others merely in their jobs. We religious like to talk a great deal about zeal. If you are serious about zeal, then you have to see in this call from God to be a superior a concrete way of enfleshing your zeal. Otherwise, you are going to be lost in a dreamland, phantasying about future generations of yet unborn souls whom you will "save" some time or other, some place or other. If you were serious about zeal, then you would be very much taken with God's will. If you were serious about his will, and thought that he was calling you, then your zeal would be a hunger to respond to his call, and he has called you to be a superior. In saying to you as superior, "Feed my sheep," he wants you to take unto yourself his sheep, those very special ones whom he has called in a very special way, and who, therefore, need a very special kind of nurtur- ~inagn,d he has sayiodu, You feed themsey sthheeapt, swo hat I have sown in their hearts may come alive." What we commonly see today is a great deal of reluctance on the part of } persons who are unwilling to become superiors for a variety of reasons. ~ From the beglnmng of time, but especially ~n the present age, a man would be out of his mind to want to be a superior. In fact, to want to be a superior is usually a guarantee of failure: not necessarily administrative failure, the failur--"~f-s~perficial effectiveness, but the substantive failure of one who, though called to be of and for Christ's kingdom, may live in exterior darkness, all the while doing great things with brick and mortar--and quite possibly destroying souls for the sake of his mere brick and mortar. So there is fear in the face of taking on such an office, and it is common today. Ther_e ar~t least tw_o~.possible_sources.of_this._~fear. One of them is healthy, eminently healthy, and the other is unhealthy. The healthy fear, I think, comes out of vision. The person who has this healthy fear, for instance, would usually have a fairly clear idea of what the founder wanted in starting the congregation. He has a pretty good idea of the value of a soul, and therefore also has a pretty good idea of the preciousness of each of those special souls called by God to religious life, and whom the superior is supposed to nurture in this vocation. In terms of such a vision, the person would have a very clear and distinct notion of the goal--not of the practicalities, but of priorities and purposes. A person with this kind of vision also recognizes that the vision is of God. And a person with that kind of clarity must see himself as unworthy. So he says, "No, not I. I can't do this." Now there are two t~ings that are healthy about that fear. One is that this sense of unworthiness comes out of self-knowledge of a sort that would arise ~when a person looks at himself against the background of such a vision. With this self-knowledge, in looking at the job, at what the call is, he is aware of his very real impotence; he has a sense of his utter helplessness. The other healthy aspect of such a fear flows precisely from this On Being a Superior / 3{}3 awareness: it is that the individual has a clear and distinct sense of one's need for God in responding to such a vocation. He cannot fulfill such a call, and therefore he would need God. Beingaware of his unworthiness, he has a very healthy desire not to be a superior--until it becomes clear that this call is truly from God. Then, retaining his sense of unworthiness, knowing that God chooses weak things of this world to achieve his purpose, the individual ac-cepts God's call and, in his need, turns to God. Such an individual truly has the spirit_of.a_superior's vocation. . Th~nheal~ the, but more common fear that has become particularly fre-quent" "--~---'---"-'-'during our time in religious life stems, for whatever reason, from a loss of vision, or, alas, from the fact that the individual never had a vision in the first place. When such a person is confronted with the job-requirements, he is often faced with something that is, for him, vague, blurred, unmanageable. He often asks, "What does obedience mean now? What do any of the vows mean now? What does the apostolate mean now? What does the vision of the congregation mean now?" And on, and on, and on. His fear is as blurred as is his sense of vocation itself. Without a vision, such a prospect for the office of superior does not look out to God's vineyard, but into the interior of the community. All he sees when he looks around is conflict, antagonism, varieties of resistance, burdens and crosses--and he wants no part of that kind of crucifixion. So, for his own security and comfort, he is afraid to be a superior. And that kind of fear, if the job is thrust upon him regardless, leads to paralysis, a paralysis that can find a variety of ways of expression. He can be .the do-nothing, the absolutely do-nothing type, who keeps his hands totally off everything except the signing of checks once a month--and this only if the treasurer has succeeded in making an appointment. Or he becomes the type who is only an~administrator. He becomes only the outside contact-person working with benefactors. He becomes only the friend of t

Issue 39.3 of the Review for Religious, May 1980. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published bi-monthly (every two months), is edited in collaboration wilh faculty members of the Dbpartment of Theology of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis, MO 63108. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, MissQuri, © 1980. By REVIEW FOR REL~O~Ot~S. Composed. printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $2.00. Subscription'U.S.A.: $8.00 a year: $15.00 for two years. Other countries: $9.00 a year, $17.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RF.L~CaOt~S: P.O. Box 6070: Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor. Associate Editor Associate Editor Questions and A nswers Editor Assistant Editor May, 1980 Volume 39 Number 3 Correspondence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REVlF.W FOrt RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19131. "Out of print" issues and articles not re-issued as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 North Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. A Check on Our Availability: The Examen George A. Aschenbrenner, S.J. Father Aschenbrenner is engaged in campus ministry, and at the same time, working nationally with priests and religious. He resides at Scranton University, Scranton, PA 18510. [n an earlier issue (January, 1972, "Consciousness Examen") I had written about a renewed understanding of the traditional lgnatian exercise of the daily examen. In that article I preferred to talk of an "examen of con-sciousness," because most of us had come to understand "conscience" in a narrowly moralistic sense. This had turned the examen into a fairly negative practice, soon discarded when we got into the typically busy apostolic life. To set aside specific time each day to see what we did wrong was not very much help. Nor did the practice enrich our apostolate much, because it gradually turned God into Someone always catching us .doing something wrong--and thus we wrought havoc on our self-esteem. A good sense of self-value, an ef-fective apostolate, and our image of God are always intimately connected. A Positive~ Understanding of the Examen .~: The formal examen should rather be a time of prayer about how much God has loved me in the yery existential details of my day, and how he could have loved me more in certain situations if my inner spiritual decisiveness and external presence had been a bit different. This is not just a different articula-tion of the meaning of the examen. Rather, it leads to an enormous difference attitudinally and effectively. A healthy self-esteem has to be ultimately and ir-revocably rooted in our Father's love, climaxed in his victory in Jesus. This neither excessively highlights, nor denies, my daily sinful weakness. Rather it leads to a consoling humiliation, found in a Father's forgiveness that is con- 321 :322 / Review for Religious, V~olume 39, 1980/3 stantly available in Jesus as my personal savior. In this way, the daily effect of my sinful condition is not to tear down self-worth, but to build up true apostolic humility, which itself is the source of genuine self-esteem. This positive understanding of the examen helps avoid another fallacy. Many times the full, rich prayer of the consciousness examen shrinks into a quick, superficial reflection over the day, and the five traditional elements of the examen thus collapse into the third element by itself--a general survey of the day's activities. The formal examen, however, was never intended to be just a quick thinking-over of the day. It is supposed to be prayer--and that within a fairly specific form, one related to the daily contemplation but not identical with it. And if the examen is to be chiefly about God's love for me, then gratitude should play a major affective role. Of course, it is the gratitude of a sinner who is at peace with the nothing he can do on his own, because he is still wonderfully learning how our Father's love turns everything to good--even his own sinfulness. The Examen Is Essential to Availability In the conclusion of his letter to the Society. of Jesus on "apostolic availabi_lity," Father General Pedro Arrupe made thi~ statement: To become partly immobile through lack of availability on the part of individuals and the consequent fear of superiors to give them the missions called for by our apostolate today, would constitute a most serious threat to the very existence of our vocation . lgnatian availability is the guarantee and the conditio sine qua non of our practice, which leads to salvation, and alone is of interest to the Society and the Church. A strong claim! My central point here is that the daily examen is the primary means to maintain this disposition of Ignatian and, indeed, of all apostolic availability. Even so, why should a brief period of prayer assume such great impor-tance? This leads us to another insight often neglected in the past. The formal examen-prayer, with its five elements, (usually) lasting about a quarter-hour, is always a means to the informal examen, which is a special faith-sensitivity that is with one all through the day. Often in our early years, we have turned the formal examen-prayer into an end-in-itself, giving to it a rigid fidelity that corrupted its significance. Of course it would be illusory to imagine that we can grow into living the informal examen=sensitivity without the early development of habitual practice of the formal examen and a con-tinuing adaptation of our involvement with this type of daily prayer. Through the informal examen, a person acquires a special ability for discerning (or examining) "presence" in everything. For Ignatius, this quality-presence was more important and extensive than the formal examen-prayer, inasmuch as this presence helps the person to recognize ,the grace of apostolic availability and flexibility that is being'offered in every situation. Apostolic availability is a profound faith-experience that roots one's iden-tity and security in God's love. When a person's security is too rooted in a job The Check on Our A vailability: The Examen / 323 or a place, or even a certain reputation, there results a stubborn rigidity that undermines his availability, just as availability canequally be undermined by a disordered need for change and variety--as when a person is so superficially committed that he really doesn't care whether he's changed or where he's assigned. In that same letter, Father Arrupe pointed up some of the challenges for what we have termed apostolic availability that are especially present in the new directions, institutional involvements and types of service that are re-quired in the modern world. What is fundamental; though, is that availability ¯ is primarilya readiness and sensitivity of heart, not simply a changing of job and/or place. In the heart of a person serving for many years.in the same mis-sion there can be an availability that is very apostolic and invigorating~--and often more difficult than the "availability" that leads to a new assignment. Apostolic availability and genuine perseverance in the same task orplace can never be opposed. In the formal examen, we hold up our day to be seen against the light of God's love. Sometimes this will be more instructive for us than was the experience itself., We may appreciate what we didn't even see in the actual experien.ce. At other times, we can savor the depths implicit in our sensitivity in the actual experience of the day. The continuing informal examen makes us sen-sitive in every situation to a Father's love that is always available, makes us ready to respond in filial 10ve to the Father's desire, as Jesus was--especially on Calvary. At such a point of insight, we see how often our cowardice or disordered desires reveal us to be persons of the "Second Class" (Spiritual Exercises, 154), who seek to make God come to what we desire. This is precisely backwards: consolation and greater apostolic service are to be found in our coming to what God desires. The sensitivity of apostolic availability distinguishes the heart ofa person of the "Third Class" from one of the "Second Class." The difference can become very subtle in one's interior af-fective life, but what~is always at issue is nothing less than better service for the justice of God's kingdom. Availability and Discernment In our sinful human condition, apostolic availability does not at all come naturally to us, but often is born of our decisive dealing with desolation in ac-cordance with the principles of Ignatian discernment. The seven capit.al sins, as inner affective experiences (.before we intentionally act on them), are each a type of desolate violence endemic to our sinful condition. They infringe on, and restrict the freedom of our availability. In decisively going against this desolate violence (see Exercises319), we become interiorly available to God's loving and consoling attractiveness, which a!ways frees us for whatever his Heart desires of us now. In this way, Jesus' own decisive availability to his 324 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 Father, in service to our world, is gradually born in our affectivity through our careful living, with all the subtlety of discernment, in the face of our inner, desolate violence. The daily examen is the most practical and regularmeans to practice, this discernment for availability. Our particular examen could then focus on the flaw or weakness that now is most keeping us from this fuller apostolic availability. What is that flaw or weakness? It is not so much something that we decide on, but rather what God will reveal: to us in his loving concern that all of us should belong to him ~ver more totally. By responding to his call through the particular examen, and directing our attention and effort primarily against that flaw or weakness, we are allowing ourselves to be drawn more into the apostolic availability of Jesus where he and we best find the Father. The Examen: An Action-Reflection Model Apostolic renewal is not simply being able to get more done. Apostolic ac-tivity is not measured simply in quantity, but must respond to the dictates of a wise sensitivity in the zealous lover of God. A certain degree of.reflectivity is essential to the growth of this sensitivity. Although in the beginning this reflectivity may seem labored and artificial, as one matures in the Spirit it becomes more integrated, less obvious, and part of the "presence" one has everywhere. There is much talk about various action-reflection models to help renew our apostolic presence, and, indeed, some such model can be an essential instrument and method for apostoli~ religious formation from the novitiate onward. I suggest that the examen is precisely such an action-reflection instru-ment, one that is built right into our daily life, and capable of fostering apostolic availability as a whole way of life open to service to the needs of our world for God's greater glory. In these models, we reflect on our experience, hoping that the reflection will lead us to better quality in our apostolic efforts. Hence the reflection is never for itself, nor directed to a self-centered sanctification, Often in the past, the examen did not have an hpostolic orientation, ~but tended to a suf-focating introspection. As we mature in outpractice Of the examen, the separate steps of action-reflection-action integrate into a sensitivity of presence in the activity that makes us available in everything for the call of our Father's love, in whatever way he desires for his greater glory in our world. Just as the routine and regularity of the daily order help to keep the con-templative monk attuned to God, so the examen can keep the apostolic religious, who is both active and contemplative, a~ttuned to God's love, and allow us, mortified by apostolic availability, to find in everything of this world a son's filial, loving service of his Father. Missionary Prayer and the Problem of Inculturation Carl F. Stark/off,' S.J.~ Father Starkloff's last article in our pages, "Oppression, Death and Liberation: Thoughts in a Context," appeared in the issue of November, 1978. He continues as superior and director of St. Stephens Indian Mission; P.O. Box 294; St. Stephens, WY 82524. The', title of the recently published National CatecheticalDirectory--Sharing The Light of Faiths'is more provocative than one might think upon first sight, if one reads it as a missionary statement. It can be interpreted in the light of a eatechesis that is meant tO instruct Catholics in the faith handed on through baptism. But if we examine those places in the DireCtory that dis'cuss the relationship between faith and culture,' we may be sufficiently disturbed to make us probe more deeply the rfieaning of what it is to share our faith. To speak of the missionary apostolate brings to mind the turbulent history of the exegesis of the so-called "Great Commission" in Matthew 28:18-20, which is placed on the lips of the risen Christ as he sends forth his joyous (though not yet spiritually rejuvenated) disciples to teach all nations about the source of their joy. This gospel mandate began a missionary enterprise that sent preachers of the Good News throughout the known world and outward to the barbarians of northern Europe, the East and to the far-off British Isles. J. Verkuyl points out that the early reformers, probably because of their sense of urgency to establish their movement among European Christians, wanted (mistakenly) to restrict Jesus' mandate to the time of the Apostolic Age.2 The ~ Sharing the Light of Faith: National Catechetical Directory for Catholics of the I~lnited States (Washington: United States Catholic Conference, 1979). See especially pp. 7-16; 85-98; 116-119. 2 j. Verkuyl, Contemporary Missiology: An Introduction, tr. Dale Cooper (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Pub. Co., 1978), pp. 18-19. 325 326 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 nineteenth century, however, witnessed phenomenal growth in mission activi-ty among all Christian denominations, and the confident expansionist attitudes of the period endured up to the mid-point of, our own century. Today, however, there is a widespread "malaise" among missionaries, as Walbert Buhlmann puts it, though he is careful to note that such a condition is one environment that can nurture hope.~ In any case, there is a c'risis of confidence in the Church's self-image as a "sent" community, and the crisis extends back from the mission frontiers into families and communities, and into individual souls, as Christians question their right and duty to "spread the Gospel." This is a cultural and theological crisis that offers promise of much growth in understanding of the relationship between faith-proclamation and cultural sharing, or, to view it from the dark side, between preaching the Good News and cultural imperialism. A great quantity of material is flowing, from the pens of missiologists about this prob-lem, and there are various theories dealing with the faith-culture question. I have shared in this effort elsewhere. This article, however, is an attempt at a "spirituality" that might further an experiential approach to faith and culture as it is rooted in the life of prayer. Fundamentally, prayer is at the root of this crisis that touches catechesis in the "established" Church, and ,even touches relationships between parents and children. Chesterton wrote somewhere that to deny the right of parents to teach religion to their children is to deny them the right to teach them anything. If our prayer lacks conviction, we are easy prey to dp~bts about this right and duty. In this article, I do not intend to discuss whether there should be missions; I happen to believe there should be. Nor do I intend to take up the much-debated question of a "moratorium on missions"; 1 happen to believe that missions are part and parcel of Christianity. That "mission" should be done differently, with consideration of mutual'resources and values between the missionary and the local culture is beyond iluestion.And that mission should cease to be mission and become church is a prominent New Testament value articulated by St. Paul in his dealing~ with theJocal churches. But amid all the discussion of liberation and oppression, of imperialism and colonialism, of faith and culture, there shines the Light at the center, who is Jesus Christ--the only ultimate justification for all missions. The love of God as manifested in him must be preached-- no doubt in a~.growing way much more by Africans and Asiatics and Other third world people t.o p~eople of the first and second worlds. But they, too, must heed their calling to be transparent mes~sengers. The transparency of which I speak is primarily a question of the missionary's "spiritual life, and that is the subject of this article. A recent b~ok on mission spirituality stresses the importance of the mis-" sionary's life-style for his or her witness to the Gospel. Michael Reilly writes: ~ Walbert Buhlmann, O.F.M., Cap., The Coming of the Third Church, trans. Ralph Woodhall, S.J. (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis Books, 1977), p. 405. Missionary Prayer and the Problem of Inculturation / 327 How can the life-styles of these countless men and women who did so much to spread Christianity in the early centuries be described? There is no lack of testimony and evidence on this point. It can be summarized under five categories: the transformation and moral uprightness of their personal lives, their fellowship and social concern for others, their joy, their endurance under hardship and persecution, and the power which they exercised by virtue of their faith.' This iri general speaks of the awesome demands laid upon the missioi~er. Certainly no mission labors c~in be sustained without these qualities, to which we will more explicitly add perseverance in profound daily prayer, even and especially amid the many "dark nights" that cultural conflicts can create or intensify. The growih in a person's ~n spiritual life should be a continuing conv'er-sion in the intellectual, moral and religious orders, of which Bernard Lonergan writes in the transcendental phenomenology of his theological method.~ Missionaries above all, because they confront so many new and challenging experiences, must undergo such conversion, which is fed by, and, in return, nourishes a gospel-centered awareness. The,apostle must have also that unqualified, unreserved "being in love with God" that Lonergan calls religious faith,6 and this faith should be anchored in the historical reality that is:Christianity. Lonergan writes: ""There is a personal entrance of God himself into history, a communication of God to his people, the advent of God's word into the world of religious expression.'" The missionary will have to apply this dynamic of constant growth to cultural realities and religious values, as well as to his or.her own sources of spiritual power, experiencing these with both.pas-sionate involvement and prayerful detachment. The title "missionary" is not only audacious and shocking; it is unforgivably arrogant unless one assumes in it the motive that stems from the experienCed knowledge of Jesus Christ as the embodied presence of God's love in the world. This love incarnate becomes most explicit in the various' gospel texts that order the proclamation of salvation to all peoples. To preach eternal salvation is fundamental to all missionary zeal. But because salvation is incarnate for the Christian, his preaching cannot merely" project salvation into eternity, disembodied and unattached. The Good News calls people to ex-perience God's love and kindness within temporal existence, Otherwise, why take creation with any seriousness, at all? Our reading of the various reports of the life. and work of Jesus of Nazareth has been conditioned by our catechetical upbringing. We have learned to see Jesus as laying down his life when.he wills to do so, meanwhile battling with the scribes and pharisees in their apparent hypocrisy and their intransigent insistence on external conduct. But it is to the credit of the Michael Collins Reilly, S.J., Spirituality For Mission (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis Books, 1978), p. 53. Bernard J. F. Lonergan, Method in Tti'eology (New York: Herder and Herder, 1972), pp. 3-25. Ibid., p. 105, ' Ibid., p. 119. 32~1 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 "liberation theologians" that they have forced us to become aware of the pervasive and persistent struggle of Jesus to win for the poor of Yahweh a humane existence, snatching their lives from the hands of powers that oppress them with needless burdens and joyless, unwarranted submissiveness to human domination. Thus missionary zeal is summoned to examine itself about its concern for a basic humaneness of life; it should feel great pain whenever the Good News is kept from persons because they are humiliated and demeaned, when they suffer oppression or oppress one another. Indeed, our spiritual resources must be strong enough to make us believe that faith can thrive under oppression, but our contemplation of the Gospel also shows us that Jesus fought conditions that enslaved people, Jesus' mission, and that of the Church, is to work for the conditions that permit a joyous and free wor-ship of God. This is a profound social dimension of the Gospel that more and more who read it are coming to perceive. For the prayerful and devout Christian, one of the most urgent motives-- perhaps the motive--for mission.activity, at least in the year~; of Catholic and Protestant missions since the sixteenth century, has been the brooding con-templation of countless hordes of souls going to hell because they did not con-fess Jesus Christ. With the reflective work of modern theology and Vatican Council 1I (rooted incidentally in some very good and very old "natural theology"!), we may still have concern for our neighbor's salvation, but there is also the opportunity for a more enlightened appreciation of the values to be found in the religious traditions of all peoples, and for a more modest assess-ment of the spiritual condition of the non-Christian. This appreciation of the spiritual values of other religion, along with the sense of a Gospel permeated with social values, leaves mission theorists with the task of formulating new attitudes towards the mission apostolate. In fact, this qualifying of the sense of missionary urgency has led to a growing spiritual crisis for many church people, most especially those in an active mission apostolate. Toward a Missionary Spirituality The approach to prayer that I hav~ chosen to discuss here is one that might help the follower of Christ to find "seeds of the word" and a means of salva-tion in the religions of non-Christians or in elements of tribal spirituality not explicitly Christian. At the same time, however, it seems to me a nullification of the Christian vocation to deny or to bypass the person of Jesus Christ, taken both historically and in the Pauline cosmic dimension, as the fullness of divine grace intended to be the Father's greatest gift to humanity. 1 do not say this as a scriptural or dogmatic fundamentalist: the praying Christian should also be an inquirer into the more sophisticated areas of comparative religion and scripture scholarship. Still, whatever level of hermeneutics we may under-take, the New Testament constantly reminds us that courteous dialogue with non-Christians is only part of our calling. The prayerful realization of what Christ means in my life can do no less than move me to tell my dialogue Missionary Player and the Problem of Inculturation / 329 partner how utterly central Christ is for me. What the other does with his ex-perience of my witness is a matter of his personal decision, always to be respected. But that person should know that my life of prayer has shone out through my personal testimony and conduct. Juan Luis Segundo has proposed a helpful approach to the centrality of Christ and tile witness of the Church. He reminds us that the principle "no salvation outside the Church" should not be taken as a matter of church boundaries but rather that it deals with the mediatory role of the Church.8 Segundo calls the Churcha reality at once particular (pertaining to cultural realities), since it is a historical movement serving as a sacrament, and univer-sal, since it serves as a medium of salvation: "It is the expression of the mystery of Christ himself.''9 In Christ the missionary preaches God's love to people, and if he feels unable to broadcast the triumphalistic boast that no one outside the Church will be saved, he is still conscious of the unique gift of Christ. Segundo calls the Christian "one who knows"-- knows Christ as the beginning of the Father's plan that moves into the future and permeates all of time. The Christian is not the only one to enter into this plan, but he is the one who knows it through Revelation.'° This is anything but a revival of primitive gnosticism; it is rather a consciousness (grounded in prayer) of the gift of sav-ing knowledge and the acceptance of a calling found through hearing the Word of God. Such a "knowledge" given.to the Christian is the content as well as the experience of conversion, a living faith that Lonergan calls an "other-worldly falling in love."" What the Christian knows then becomes the driving force for the labor of proclamation. It is, for one thing, a deeply biblical spirituality, for our encounter with the Word of God in Scripture and preaching is our summons to mission. However, I have chosen here to offer a more particular approach or method based on resources within my own Jesuit order, hoping that these resources will serve others in developing a mission-centered prayer life. Recent documents of the Society of Jesus remind us that the Jesuit's self-knowledge is found in the sense of being a sinner who is nonetheless called to be a companion of Jesus.'2 We redeemed sinners are by vocation a "com-munity of dispersion," ready to be sent on mission." The basic dynamic of this vocation, paralleling similar resources in other communities, is the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius o( Loyola, which, made, serve to mediate the gospel-conversion-mission experience. Examining the experience of conversion and mission, we immediately con- 8 Juan Luis Segundo, S.J., Tr. John Drury, A Theology For Artisans of a New Humanity (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1973), Vol. I, p. 76. 9 Ibid., p. 78. ,o Ibid., p. 13. " Lbnergan, Op. Cit., p. 240, ,2 See Documents of The 31st and 32rid General Con.gregations of the Society o f Jesus (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1977), p. 401. ,3 Ibid., p. 405. 330 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 front the problem/mystery of Christ and culture, of the universal sway and dominion of the Risen Christ .and the particular authenticity of cultural values. Indeed, the Exercises are themselves a partictilar cultural phenomenon within which the Christian faith is rekindled and nourished, and which have proved themselves to contain certain universal values. One who truly receives the liberating love of God in the Exercises comes in touch with the sovereign God in a discovery so powerfully expressed by Karl Barth: The love of God stands where there is disclosed, beyond and above and in the twofold negation, the preeminent affirmation--Jesus Christ, the .Resurrection and the Life~ Blessed discovery! God stands in light inaccessible. Blessed discovery! All flesh is as grass and all the glory of men is as the flower of the field. When, in spirit and truth, one of these discoveries is made, the other is involved in it, for both are in fact operations of the One God, whose universal majesty is the "Yes" in the"No.'"' The gift of a knowledge0of the love of God is so moving and powerful (perhaps in a very quiet way), that it is no wonder that enemies of the lgnatian Exercises have called them a brainwashing. The radical freedom of Christian conversion, as Barth so stirringly tells it above, calls us into a permanent state of tension. This tension is made up of what, to borrow from a number of spiritual writers, we might call "moments" of the Exercises--the two moments of conversion and of mission, I call them moments in the sense that they are kairoi, transcendent of any chronological order; they are experienced in an interweaving rather than in succession, and not merely in time of retreat but in the insertion into comrhunity and ministry. In the Exercises, the first truth one comes to grips with is God's sovereign-ty over one's life and destiny. One has to wrestle with and deeply assent to the fact that we are created to praise, reverence:and serve God, and thus come to salvation. I use the word "wrestle" here because the ascesis of,the Exercises contains much wrestling (though in the end we seethe folly of all this muscle!); no human being readily surrenders his or her own sovereignty andautonomy to anyone, even to God. Nor should they readily surrender. We are persons gifted with dignity, and until we realize that this dignity can be brought to final perfection in God alone, through obedience rather than abject slavery (an important reflection in ministry to the oppressed), we should not sur-render our autonomy. Yet we finally do have to surrender to God as Chris-tians, having,wrestled with him and been so wounded that we manifest in our very steps, as Jacob did, the divine-human struggle that eventuates in our ob-taining his blessing. Then the believer, too, becomes an Israel who realizes that all this effort was part of a foolish bout with God's love. I wish to return to this matter of conversion later, for it is the genuine source of crisis (under-stand "decision") in the missionary's grasp'of problems of culture and social justice. Karl Barth, The Epistle to the Romans, tr. Edwyn Hoskyas (London: Oxford University Press, 1965), p. 321. Missionary Prayer and the Problem of lnculturation / 331 Once the Christian has yielded to divine sovereignty (or arrived at a stage of acceptance, for the faith-choice that expresses this yielding occurs many times in "becoming a Christian"), he has again accepted the reality of his own sinfulness--the disobedience, the recalcitrance, the anger at God's insistence on submission. There goes with this an even more difficult acceptance of divine love, for within our sinfulness we find an inability to let ourselves be loved, and even glory in perversely thinking about God's "No" to us and fear His "Yes." With the opening to grace we rejoice in that essential Christian ex-perience of acceptance of self as loved by God. The loving power of Christ is the "tree of life" that nourishes our circle of existence at its very center--a powerful Amerindian image that indicates a wholeness of life based on devo-tion to its source. But the moment of conversion is hardly complete with repentance, or with the return of the prodigal. The once-lost younger son will discover now the meaning of mature membership in his father's household, that it is shared life and companionship, but also involvement in the labor and the suffering. Such a call to deeper filial piety may well bethe sequel to the Prodigal Son parable, in which the erring but more attractive younger son is equalized with the dour older brother who we all quietly tend to scorn. The sin in all of us resists true belonging. Thi~ is why the SpiritualExercises lead the Christian to understand what it is for Christ to be a "King" in our lives, for him to have a loving sovereignty 'rather than by an imperious and aloof barking of orders that avoids deeper ih~,olvement. David Fleming describes the Meditation on the Kingdom of Christ as the placing of oneself into a "mythical situation, or the kind of story-truth of which fairy tales are made."'~ One seeks to know Christ in whatever fashion one may need in ~order to bring home the fact of his lord-ship. The meditation on Christ's kingdom is thus thematic forall contemplation of the life, death and. resurrection of Christ. All the while meditating on the ministry of Jesus, a retreatant prays for the grace to know him more intimately, to love him with grea~er intensity and to follow him more closely. One can begin to attempt this radical Christian prayer, having first meditated on the mystery of the Incarnation, which we shall later take as the basic model for the missionary apostolate. St. Ignatius presents the Incarnation con~ templation as a mental trylStich, representing the Godhead in heaven, humani-ty struggling on earth, and the young woman of Nazareth who assents to the mysterious calling to' archtypically stand for every Christian's response to God. This meditation enters into the second moment, or moment of mission, but first of all it reminds the Christian that the essential grace to be gained from meditating on the life of Christ is "an interior knowledge of the '~ David L. Fleming, SoJo The Spiritual Exercises: A Literal Translation and a Contemporary Reading (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1978), p. 65. 332 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 Lord, who for me has become man, that I may more love and follow him.'''6 This "for me" (so dear to St. Ignatius-- as well as to Martin Luther!) is the ex-pression of faith in a God who never remains for himself alone but perpetually gives of himself. It is the expression of the love of a missionary God. As the Christian enters more deeply into the mystery of the Incarnation, he realizes how much of the sinner hangs on, and how the moment of conversion is ever-present. As the Meditation on the Two Standards or Two Leaders-- Christ and Satan- shows us, the threat of fear and pride and exaltation of the false self is never far away. Within the gospel accounts one also contemplates types of persons who experience different degrees of submission to God, and so asks himself in what way this reflection applies personally to one's life. As the dread reality of St. Luke's journey to Jerusalem looms up, the Christian is made to realize, along with St. Matthew's newly appointed head of the Church, the still unconverted :Simon Peter, that each one of us shares in that journey. Somewhere within this period of meditation, St. Ignatius' Three Modes of Humility challenge the follower of Christ with the call not merely to avoid all sin, but to enter into his poverty and humiliation and suffering-~-to share fully in his mission. The Third Week of the Exercises is an entering into the fullest meaning of the passion of Christ, not merely with tears of empathy but with readiness for full association. The apostolic moment of the Exercises is mysteriously present here: one comes to sense the many possible challenges that could in the future demand a personal appropriation of the kenosis of the Son of God. Once again, the Christian may fear Christ and remain_ sitting outside the Garden of Olives, only to fall asleep, to avoid the grim strain of apprehension. Or, the disciple might insist with Peter that he will never betray Jesus, and almost in the same moment deny even being with him. We thus discover that it was a relatively simple matter to love God in a childish way as our understand-ing Father, in contrast to our acceptance of his Son as an intimate friend. Friendship can demand so much, and we fear the maturity that it requires, especially when we find that the Son of God, in his hour of greatest need, calls his disciples "friends." This is the opportunity to pass even more dramatically through the ever-deepening dying of "becoming a Christian," which, as Kierkegaard wrote, is all that we ever do in relation to Christ; we never fully "arrive" in this life. But if the Christian perseveres in prayer, there may come, finally, the gift of identification ~,ith Christ in which the cloak of sinfulness falls away and true companionship is accepted. If the Christian embraces the mystery of the cross (according to his or her own personal vocation), there comes that peace which pervades one's prayer at the. entrance to the sepu!chre. A true Christian is a child of the Resurrection, an heir to the joys of the Ibid., p. 70. Missionary Prayer and the Problem of Inculturation / 333 triumphant Christ, and a bearer of that joy. The Christian contemplates and absorbs the spirit of the risen life as the spirit of his own life, and, according to Ignatius, reaches holiness through sharing the joy of the Friend who has defeated death. It should be no surprise that this experience, too, is a conver-sion in the intellectual, moral and religious dimensions of life. We do not easily accept joy in our lives, or the fact that we are created for joy, as C. S. Lewis was astonished to discover. In the face of the grief in the world (and, if we are idealistic missionaries or social activists, our own tenden-cy to take too seriously our personal warfare with all this grief), we find it hard to transform our, solemn frowns into laughter of rejoicing. Perhaps we cannot but think of God as the Ruler of Olympus who becomes jealous of our hubris at thinking we might ever simply be happy. And there is that temptation to sadness in the anticipation of apostolic struggles. So conversion to Christian joy, and the mission to share that joy, are again telescoped into two moments of one experience. St. Ignatius did not leave us simply to contemplate the Resurrection with the first disciples. He has bequeathed to us the Contemplation for Obtaining Divine Love, which is summed up in God's desire to share himself with his friends. There is given here a recapitulation of all good gifts that descend from the Father of Lights in whom there is no shadow, (Jm 1:16-17). We consider all gifts received, and more, we affirm ourselv~es as gifts of God's favor. A joy-filled Christian can thus say: Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my intellect, and all my will--all that 1 have and possess. You gave it to me;to you, Lord, 1 return it. All is yours, dispose of it according to your will. Give me only your love and grace, for this is enough for me." This contemplation also expresses an aspect of the apostolic moment, both in the call to offer one's gifts in the divine Service, and in the vision of God dwelling in and giving life to all creatures. The consideration of the labor of God within all things helps to feel his presence as the very life of the ministry. There is here, too, a profound theodicy that enlightens the missionary about the working of the Holy Spirit in all created reality, where the Word is somehow present before his preaching even begins. It is a great blessing for an aspiring young missionary (or an older one seeking renewal) to be able to sum up his spiritual experience with the vision of all good gifts descending from above--the gifts of justice, goodness, pity and mercy--"as from the sun des-cend the rays, from the fountains the waters." This is ongoing conversion in the highest sense. The Translation of Prayer Into Mission Let us get "practical" about all of this. Where does one go missiologically Ibid., p. 140. 334 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 with the experience of conversion-mission? If I am a redeemed sinner, saved by God from my own self-oppression as well as from the,oppression of false spirits, l am under a mandate t~ p.roclaim that experience to all people. Fur-ther, as Barth has written, we have surrendered our old way of thinkingto the divine "No" and thus ~have been .renewed in a life of grace through His "Yes." To believe that one is saved is the ultimate experience of freedom, and if one has been gifted with a share in God's holiness, he may even sense a call to relinquish homeland and culture in order to announce that freedom to others. Such a state of soul is a great gift and a great mystery; it is also a great problem, and without ongoing intellectual conversion, can leave one open to many deceptions. There is hidden in this experience the danger that the con-verted Christian will interpret some of the chltural trappings of his conversion as essential to conversion itself. In fact, I woul,d venture the guess that much of the zeal to save "savages" has arisen from an uneducated state of mind in x, relation to what one sees as their "unhappy and primitive state." Metanoia in its most profound etymological sense must be part of any missionary prepara-tion and part of an ongoing learning process. Perhaps the most helpful spiritual approach to a missionary openness to foreign experiences is faith in the Incarnation as a continuing contemplation. So St. Ignatius' Meditation on the Incarnation might well serve as the fun-damental reflection of the apostolic moment of the Exercises.lncarnational theology has, of course, been thematic in the thought of theologians and in Church documents since Vatican Council II. Its frame of reference is the historical context of gospel proclamation, which stresses the service of Christ and his Church to .the temporal order, and the hope this service offers to humanity for a more truly di~,ine-human life. A healthy incarnationalism is also eschatoiogical, and in its optimism does not forget the reality of sin. It realizes that God's becoming human does not empty him of his transcendence but rather gifts humanity with a share in that transcendence. In simple w~ords, the Incarnation has its total fulfillment outside history and awaits the kingdom of God in faith even as it expresses its presence already. In. the con-rex: of missiology, incarnational theology proclaims the en-flesh-ment of God within cultures, and challenges all cultures to reach beyond themselves. Ignatius Loyola was a man of great sensitivity to the ways in which the Gospel is to be received humanly, as his instruction for the use of the senses in prayer attests. The Contemplation on the Incarnation is an experience of the divine entering history, of the Good News transforming human cultures and confronting the evils that threaten what is truly of God's creation in them. ln-culturation does pose a tension, if not even a dilemma, for the Christian, as I have already indicated. The zealous missionary who is filled with a desire to show Christ's love to the world iS a person who has acquired the gift of detach-ment from a familiar environment, though perhaps not to the degree he may think he has acquired it. Even the most dedicated Christian carries his or her native culture along as mental and affective baggage, and tends to extend that Missionary Prayer and the Problem of Inculturation / 335 culture, along with the Gospel, to other peoples. To offer the good things of one's own culture to others is a natural and authentic aspiration, if one is aware that these things are not coextensive with the Good News of Christ. This awareness can come only from a deep study'of the culture and from a "participation" in it to whatever degree is compatible with Christianity. Another factor of great importance is the relationship the Christian, has towards the people to whom he is missioned,. There is a danger that one will project one's own degree of commitment into these people, and thus expect of them too soon that same kind of response. Likewise, to compare one's own "surrender" or submission to God, acquired with the help of many cultural blessings and advantages, to the enslavement of oppressed peoples and its concomitant apathy or resistance, is of course a tragic confusion of entirely different experiences. Worse yet, one might even miss the signs of a people's dedication simply out of a failure to comprehend their ways of expressing it. However, meditation on the Incarnation, if we supplement it with proper cultural training, inserts us into the saving love°of the Godhead as well as into the infinite patience and empathy of Jesus Christ, who met people "where they were," living with them in their struggles and calling them to converison. Christ never destroyed or shattered a person's life, however great a shock he may have dealt, but rather uplifted and sanctified the life of every person. In the Contemplat!on on the Incarnation, St. Ignatius in. structs the retreat-ant to "see" the various persons in the eye of the imagination: "those on the surface of the earth, in such variety in dress and in actions; some white and others black; some in peace and others in war; some weeping and others laughing; some well, others ill; some being born,, and others dying . ,,,8 One is to continue by imagining how so many live in blindness, how they swear and blaspheme, how th6y kfli and go down to hell. And in the same mental exer-cise, we are shown how Father, Son and Holy Spirit conspire to work out the salvation of the suffering human race, and how the messenger Gabriel goes to speak to the Virgin of Nazareth. Whatever Ignatius had in mind as he described the misery of our race (in his own cultural terms!), and however we may have evolved in our attitudes about,how many benighted pagans are going into damnation, a sensitive response to his vision of a suffering humanity draws one deeply into a sharing of the human condition. The point here is that human beings have always injured and oppressed one another in various ways; but the much stronger aspect of this truth(See St. Paul'spollo mallon in Romans 5.) is that all types and cultures, all races and .nationalities, enter into the divine compassionate vision and its willto save and transform. Those who are to be saved will be saved as black or white or red or yellow, whether they wear three-piece-suits or loincloths or nothing at a!l, whether their music is rendered by pipe organs or jazz bands or ancient drums. We do not really know what God has in mind to Ibid., p. 72. 336 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 do with diversity in the kingdom of heaven; we do know that he has a total disregard for differences as far as the equal dispensation of his kindness is concerned. Thus a meditation on the Incarnation, if carried through with full involve-ment, takes a missionary into the midst of the culture he serves. It prods him to study anthropology and sociology and comparative religion, both in books and in lived exp~erience, as well as to do all that is necessary tomake him atten-tive, intelligeni, reasonable and responsible. It serves as the affective nourish-ment of all the intellectual and procedural efforts one may bring to work in a foreign culture. It would seem, therefore, that a missioner's own prayer life would change, to some degree, along cultural lines: An openness and sensi-tivity to the people will lead to a sharing of indigenous forms of prayer and worship. No matter how hard 1 may try, I will never become a Native American or South African black or campesino, especially if the culture I serve has a history of deep Wounds inflicted by the very society and church I represent. This should in fact be an initial experience of inculturation--to realize that onb is a foreigner or guest, or better, a pilgrim, and that one naturally resists becoming part of a new culture, especially in its startling and strange aspects. But still, we ~can take on many qualities of our environment, and should do so if they insert us better into the life of the people and help us to grow personally. Generally, the first experience of mission life for the outsider is one of conflict. This is emphatically true of all who enter into work among societies suffering from powerful structures and histories of persecution or cultural invasion. To become part of a wounded culture is to absorb inevitably the feel-ings of frustration, anger and despair; to experience the "diminishment" that occurs within as one responds again and again to expressions of these negative feelings. There may also be a deep dissatisfaction with oneself over the failure to remain tranquil and "understanding" in the face of such assaults. The mis-sionary must then turn, in a way perhaps never before experienced, but anticipated in earlier prayer, to the reality of a suffering and dying Savior, who himself knew pain and rejection and the feeling of being an outsider. When'the Word pitched his tent among us, he certainly had to live as an alien in our midst, with disciples who failed to understand, with authorities who re-jected him, with hangers-on who melted away in the face of conflict. The mis-sionary can be helped spiritually, through intellectual resources and the study of the history of injustice or persecution in the area of hi~ activity. For exam-ple," in studying the near genocide of a number of ti'ibal cultures at the hands of invaders who made these people aliens in their own lands, the missionary can learn to approprihte the sense of weakness often felt by Christ himself in the face of the burdens of history. However, even in a badly wounded culture, one can experience gifts in greater number. Among many of the more traditional, or "primal," societies Missionary Prayer and the Problem of Inculturation / 337 of Africa or Asia or the Americas, can be found spiritual attitudes remarkably resonant with the Christian experience: creative suffering, prayer, contempla-t! on, worship forms, acceptance of death, ascetical practices. One can learn to appreciate the reverence of the people, the sense of appreciation for nature, the deep respect for spiritual realities. It is possible to learn to enjoy the music, the dance, the language, the good times, as they occur in a natural cycle of tribal events. Perhaps the missioner will even find in the new culture (not because he hates his own but because he loves it too) a new"sacred space" in which to be at home. As this occurs, one finds oneself both proclaiming and experiencing conversion. Missionary prayer is then truly coming to birth according to the mystery of the Incarnation. To sum up, then, Christian conversion is not a narrowing experience. While it focuses our gaze upon Christ as the Father's unique expression of love, it also constantly opens our horizons and leads us to greater social and cultural understanding. But the conversion process must be a composite of in-tellectual, moral and religious growth. Prayer alone will not achieve this, but without prayer the missionary is merely another cultural invader. A strongly incarnational prayer reminds one constantly that in Christ the Father has reconciled the divine and the human, and that we can indeed preach a transcendent faith that finds roots in local cultures. "When Did We See You?" Donald Macdonald, ,S. M.M. Fr. Ma~cdonald, master 6f novices for the Montfort Fathers, is stationed at the house of Maria Bhavan; D.R. College P.O.; Bangalore 560029; India. ~ watched a group of sisters, out walking, slowly pass a row of hovels. Out-side one of them, a little girl was squatting, cutting wood. Seeing the sisters approach, she put down her knife, joined her hands in the Indian way of greeting, and gave them a lovely smile. The sisters (presumably) never saw her. Three other sisters were walking some five or six yards further back, and I thought that perhaps one of them would have seen what happened, and so stop for a moment to make a fuss over the child. They, too, walked past. I still see the quizzical look on the child's face. Clearly, mistakes are easily made. It is also unfair and invalid to draw a general conclusion from a particular instance. But from years spent in pastoral ministry, not least with religious, I suggest that there may be more in that incident than many of us would care to see. Such insensitivity may be the rule rather than the exception. Those sisters may be like that even with each other. They just do not see. This same lack of insight may be a consistent feature of their everyday world: They may never really live in the present moment, and so miss so much of what is happening about them. If the mature person is "one whose center of gravity is where he actually is," it may explain the immaturity of some religious lives." What is needed is the ability to be both part of, and apart from, the present moment, to give oneself wholly in the present as an expression of a mature Christian faith. So much of religious life, especially as one gets older, can be so unsatisfactory for so many, because they are never really "alive." Any one, for example, who has ever been in the company of the present Holy Father, might judge that he is in fact a great parish priest of the time when such men 338 "'When Did We See You?" really knew their people. He is always aware of what is happening. Though he may be unable to speak to everyone individually, yet he neglects no one, regardless of how many are about him. What steps, therefore, can the religious take to try to become fully alive to the present as an expression of a mature Christian faith? Listen Like a Disciple Once upon a time, most religious began the day with a "morning offering." I suggest that this once-common custom should be revived to help give a precise focus to our day. A line adapted from Is 50:4 makes an ideal morning prayer: O Lord, give me a disciple's tongue. So that 1 may know how to reply to the weary, provide me with speech. Each morning, wake me to hea~, to listen like a disciple. We should pray that we may speak only what we have learned of God--a disciple's tongue. We beg that we may never ignore the weary, and so have something to say ~to the child, the~neglect of whom began these reflections. Ideally, we want to be able to answer the questions people dare not ask. We want to offer not just sympathy but empathy,, the ability to feel for and with these persons of our world. We must have time for those that n'o one else has time for. So important is this approach to the present moment, that we should ask God to wake us each morning to hear. But, more than that, we should ~vant to listen like a disciple. In whatever circumstances we are placed, we want to be aware of all that is happening, to assimilate our experience. The whole world is sacrament. Thus we are eager to listen like a disciple, to try and catch every, nuance and inflection of the world in which we live. Most of us share a com-mon degree of hearing and vision. What separates us one from another is insight, or the ability to respond to the unspoken word or gesture. Our prayer, therefore, should be that God would give us the sensitivity to be fully alive in our global village. Our center of gravity is ~vhere we actually are. A day begun with ~suCh a reflective prayer to God can ~urely help give definition to our approach to the present. If our minds progressively assimilate the assumptions underlying the prayer, experience, in whatever form it comes, will be integrated into our lives in God. Through Love in His Presence The religious may further deepen that basic insight, by attempting to share the grasp of reality found in the superb opening prayer of the letter to the Ephesians. There Paul's present situation is prison. The future prospects, in his estimate, probably included death by execut~ion.The past, an apostolic life of mixed fortunes, was evidently drawing to a close. In such circumstances :340 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 notice the approach of a mature Christian faith, and the astonishing balance given by such a center of gravity: "Blessed be God the Fathe~ of Our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with all the spiritual blessings of heaven in Christ" (Ep 1:3). There, the first move is to God. And what a God--"the Father of Our Lord Jesus Christ," who has given us everything. This, from a man in prison, towards the end of his life; no self-pity, nor justified disappointment, nor even the pretence of whistling in the cemetery to pretend he is not scared. His perspective is anchored in "God the Father of Our Lord Jesus Christ." Whata marvelously expansive opening to a prayer from a man shut in, and about to lose his career and his life. Then his faith, grasping reality,, takes him almost beyond the limits of imagination to the point of saying: "before the world was made he chose us, chose us in Christ" (Ep 1:4). The sense of awe and wonder is evident as it dawns on him, "the very least of all the saints" (Ep 3:8), that these moments of life have been given him by God. The immediate present is received as a gift from God in Christ offered before even the world was made. How does one quantify love on a scale like that? From this perspective, the present moment is an expression of the depth of the love of God for us that is quite literally beyond computation. One just receives and adores. To the extent that I can share this outlook, I allow God to love me in the present moment. Receiving life as so charged with the love of God, 1, too, deepen my capacity to love. I do not know when I first knew God, but from "before the world was made" God knew and loved me. The present moment is the focus of such love, where I "live through love in his presence" (Ep 1:4). This, l suggest, can be the center of gravity of a mature Christian faith. His Spirit Living in You Following Saint Paul, the religious can go still deeper into the present moment. "Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in you?" (l Co 3:16). Individually or collectively, God is present among us in the only way that is real to us--through knowledge and love. Anything else is superficial. The point is given added emphasis when we remember that the word translaied "temple" i~s no(our word for Church, b~t rather, "tabernacle." "God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit which has been given to us" (Rm 5:5). Religious, aware of God so present to them and in them, could only respond in wonder and awe. Their very personality would reflect adoration. "Your body, you .know, is the temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you since you received him from God" (l Co 6:19). If the religious truly listened like a disciple to words like that, the love of God, found in the present moment, would take them to !he heights, and give them "the strength to grasp the breadth and the length, the height and the depth, until knowing the love of Christ which is beyond all knowledge, ~you are filled with the utter fullness of God" (Ep 3:19). "When Did We See You?" / 341 For the Praise of His Glory Despite possible appearances to the contrary, the above approach to reality, stemming from an understanding of baptism, is simplicity itself. It has to be if it is to center on the present moment. Here the religious is never in the position of the harassed motorist driving at night, and trying to cope with all the signals he is receiving at a busy road junction. Nor is it an artificial con-struct pieced together from a possibly outdated literary-form. Quite simply the religious is aware that he is loved by God. He has always been present to God. Life is God's gift to him, moment by moment. In responding to life so given, all that is deepest in him echoes awe, adoration and love. Thus does he begin to sound the depths of "the unfathomablk riches of Christ" (Ep 3:8). Aware of the presence of God within him, he believes that with that gift he has received everything (see Rm 8:32). As the reality of this dawns on him, the love of Christ overwhelms him, as he begins to see that "for anyone who is in Christ, there is a new creation" (2 Co 5:14,17). His center of gravity is moving gradually from self to Christ. Inescapably, and often at a level beyond words, his faith expresses itself in love, adoration, gratitude. In time, as he continues to allow God to 10ve him,his "life is hidden with Christ in God" (Col 2:3), so that, however imperfectly, he realizes, as a baptized Christian, "I live now not with my own life but with the life of Christ who lives in me" (Ga 2:20). Thus he tries to allow God full play in his life. As many religious know, such an approach to the present moment comes to be as natural as breathing. It is the normal, prosaic everyday basis of his life. It is the common coin he uses moment by moment. Living therefore in Christ in a sacramenthl world, one lives in the presence of God, not at some degree removed from him, as though he were a spectator. The smile and greeting of the child which provoked these reflections, can be seen as an expression of the love of God. Her puzzlement as she was ignored was surely an echo of the rejection of the love of God. The insensitivity of the religious presented a glimpse of Christ handicapped, unable to express his love for the child in that instance (see Ph 3:18). Attempting to listen like a disciple to what God might be saying in an incident that was over in seconds, one realizes all too well that, in addition to the above, there may be other inferences. Lord, in the child and the religious do I see you and me? Do I see your love always expressing itself in the most unlikely situations--and my response? Again, is that how I am to the people who come into my life? This reflection does not depersonalize the child, nor take from her her integrity as a human being. She is not a cipher. But viewed from the stand-point of Christian baptism, which is the basis and point of religious life, it is surely not illegitimate for us to deepen the realiz~ation that we are loved by God, that, as a result, we must "owe no one anything, except to love one another" (Rm 13:8). We are in debt, therefore, to everyone we meet, as we can never adequately repay love. There is perhaps no more exacting test of the authenticity of one's faith. The Threat and,the Thrill of Dominion Labour# Beneviile, S.C.C. Sister Labour~ teaches at Delone Catholic High School; S. Oxford Ave.; McSherrystown, PA 17344 Let us m~ike man in our image, after our likeness. Let him have dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, and the cattle, and over all the wild animals and all the creatures that crawl on the ground (Gn 1:26). In the light of the Genesis account, we know ourselves to be the hallmark of the creative power of God who transformed the darkness over the a~yss; the God who shaped the formless waste which was the earth; the God who made light to dispel the darkness; the God whose touch brought forth vegetation and seeds of every kind. Custodians of creation, we are challenged to find joy and fulf!llment in this awesome burden of nurturing the universe. To do so, however, we must discern the subtleties of our behaviorand try to strip away any repressive thought patterns which distort our presence to reality. By un-consciously excluding that which is painful, fearful, or even sublime, repres-sion is the ego's means of scaling down life-- that is, of reducing ffc~th terror and ecstasy to something within our control. From infancy on, we have been schooled to block out that which either threatens or diminishes our own stature; thus anxiety is minimized and we are able to move through life with a kind of equilibrium. 'Capstones of God's creative power, we are marked by an ambivalence which suffers from the pain of finitude as well as from the glorious burden of mirroring Infinitude. We live simultaneously on the brink of obliyion and the brink of infinity. Because the possibility of both destruction and transcendence are threatening, we too readily settle for the protection which illusion offers. But truth and ultimate fulfillment demand that we live face to face with the realization that the universe is teeming with wonder and danger 342 The Threat and Thrill of Dominion / 343 of colossal proportion; and we cannot let our consciousness of this inure us to the utter magnificence of that which has been entrusted to us. Instead of deflecting the wondrous mysteries of the world, we must so sensitize ourselves to our task and privilege that the fullness of God's glorious creation opens up before us, and thus we can revel in the inestimable joy to which we are heirs. ". mountainsand hills shall break out in song before you, and all the trees of the countryside shall clap their hands" (Is 55:12). The innate fear by which we resist the greatness to which we are called-- a Jonah complex according to psychologists--prompts us to entrench ourselves in mediocrity, security and conformity rather than bear the risk of the superlative. In the depth of our souls we glimpse our godlike possibilities, but quiver at the thought of having our potentials actualized. Intensity hurts. Pain--albeit a "nice" pain--is the counterpart of intense living. "We are only the earthenware jars which'hold this treasure to make it clear that such an overwhelming power comes from God" (2 Co 4:7). Our spiritual and.emo-tional yearning often seems to exceed our human capacity to withstand. Repression of the sublime is the defense which enables us to maintain our balance in a universe which would sweep.us off our feet if we were totally sen-sitive to it. Ecstatic moments, for instance, are too charged to be endured for long. Because we lack the strength to bear the miraculousness and force of life at its fullest, we cut back to an idle; we moderate the degree to which we will let ourselves experience the grandeur of it all. Closing ourselves off to the possibility of unlimited greatnessthus enables us to remain intact, untouched in the face of an overwhelmingness which might otherwise be devastating. In Thornton Wilder's Our Town, Emily perceives the truth of life only after she returns from the grave: "Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize while they live it--every, every minute?" The stage manager answers: "The saints and poets, maybe--they do some." Just as the fear of greatness keeps us walled up, so does the fear of little-ness. In contrast to the rest of creation, we are at best miniscule, and that's ter-rifying. Man, the self-aware capstone of creation, is, in fact, insignificant. Our fragile position in a mighty world began with our helpless condition at birth. Despite unconscious efforts of denial, none of us can ever quite forget the fact that we were once dirty-faced, cry-baby kids who needed another even to change our diapers. As a species we may have been given dominion, but as individuals our personal histories are at best embarrassing. Unlike animals, we are endowed with a self-awareness which makes the truth of our fragility even more terrifying. "It means to know that one is food for worms., to have emerged from nothing, to have a name, consciousness of self, deep inner feel-ings, an excruciating inner yearning for life and self-expression-- and with all this yet to die.''t Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death (New York, 1973), p. 87. :344 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 Paradoxically, it's this very terror of our own nothingness which has generated such self-assumed authority, such egoism. The instinct for self-worth and self-preservation has sparked the fantasies and repression which delude us about our true condition. Unable to cope with the reality of our littleness, we have let our egos construct vast networks of illusions by which we assert and argue our own value. Without these lies to feed off, life would be nightmarish. The rose-colored vision which repression insures protects us from the omnipresent bogeyman whose terrors would disarm us: if we ever dropped the mask of importance. According to Kierkegaard, the lies perpetrated by the ego are: the most natural ,defense against the anxieties of life. Dread would be overwhelming without the escape hatch which repression offers. Fantasizing about one's role or place in the cosmos is a comforting ex-ercise by which the emerging person obscures the truth which lies at the root of the human condition. The egoism which dominates us doesn't ring of pride as much asit does of escapism. It's weak man's instinctual defense against his smallness; against . total negation in an apparently capricious and topsy-turvy universe. Let's face it, over and above the natural disasters which threaten us, the evils We heap on one another are staggering: the haunting memory of six million Jews exter-minated; the wake of Three Mile Island and the threat of nuclear extinction; four hundred thousand boat people drowned; incessant wars and rebellions which decimate the hopes of nations. Rather than live vis-a-vis our fragile position, we prefer, in fact, to pull the wool over our own eyes. The crux of our failure to resonate with the challenge of dominion, then, is two-edged: a fear of greatness and a fear of littleness. Repression serves to protect us from a double apprehension about the latent power which might be unleashed in us, as well as from a sense of feebleness in the face of a vast universe. By blocking out any mystery or terror which dwarfs our stature, we live comfortably with the illusion of control. Repression makes the dark so cozy that we forget our need for the light. The price of this illusion, though, seems to be a lobotomy of the soul. We have anesthetized our spirits as a means of maintaining our balance. Undoubtedly, to have been made in the image of the Creator and subsequently entrusted with undisputed authority is a fearful heritage. If we are to attain our true stature, however, we must be persons who accept their creaturehood and are brave enough to live without the facade of power or righteousness or control. We will enjoy the thrill of dominion and minimize its threats only to the degree we can live with our own vulnerability--that is, to the degree we can shed the protective armor which has shielded us from so much of life. Thus psychology and religion merge as we relinquish the security blanket of egoism, which has so falsified our percep-tions, and posit our faith in the God who created us. The formula for such faith is basically simple: "One is a creature who can do nothing, but one exists over against a living God for whom 'everything is The Threat and Thrill of Dominion / :345 possible.' -2 The Scriptures clearly delineate the nature of this call to faith: faith in a God who has told us every hair on our head is numbered; faith in a God who knows when every sparrow falls to the ground; faith in a God who feeds the birds of the air and clothes the grass of the field with splendor; faith in a God who has said,. "No one who comes to me shall ever hunger and no one who believes in me shall ever thirst" (Jn 6:35); faith in a God who himself conquered death through resurrection. Such faith is the death knell to all the claims which the ego has so jealously guarded. Instead of making our own arrogant assertions the touchstone, our fundamental identity with Ultimate Power gives us our significance. Creaturehood is no longer a liability--rather, it's a hotline to the Creator. The very One who has called us into existence and given us authority stands behind us and before us. The secret fears which once eroded our joy and op-timism are dissipated the moment we see creatureliness as our claim to the Creator. Similarly, the inner yearning to proclaim ourselves and to experience the something more of life takes on new meaning as we accept our role as capstones of God's creative power. Our identity lies in imaging the Father and in nurturing that which his loving touch has brought forth. No longer is our personal worth determined by social and cultural norms; on the contrary, our individual worth is affirmed by our link with the transcendent God who created us and gave us dominion. Love has shared Itself. We have been made in his image. "Before you were born, 1 called you by name," The mystery at the heart of each of us makes sense and finds fulfillment only in relation to the Mystery at the heart of creation. ~ Becker, p. 90. Towards Mutuality in Ministry Sally Kenel, D. W. Sister Sally serves in the pastoral ministry of St. Mary, Gate of Heaven Parish. She resides at 85-28 Forest Parkway; Woodhaven, NY 11421. Which do you identify with more? A typewriter or a piece of paper? Santa's bag or a Christmas stocking? ~ These either/or questions attempt to indicate a basic tension that exists in identifying oneself as either a "giver" or a "receiver." We religious engaged in ministry probably tend toward the giver option. It is true that mfnistry requires service, but a forced choice between giver and receiver can set up a dualistic I-as-opposed-to-you dynamic. This dynamic, in turn, can be d block to the growth of the minister. Much of our training in religious life has reinforced the notion that "it is more blessed to give than to receive.'" Evidence of our working out of this framework can be found in such everyday responses to people as, "What can 1 do for you?" Immediately, the giver/receiver dualism is established. It is my contention that it is blessed to give and to receive; that the clear cut distinction between giver and receiver does not exist in reality; that there can be, indeed must be, mutuality in ministerial relationships. Since this belief was brought home to me in my ministry with the elderly, reflection on this concrete experience is what will give shape to much of this article. However, mutuality in ministerial relationships can exist between people of different ages, backgrounds, sexes, and so forth. In fact, all our relationships offer the possibility of blurring the lines that separate us, plunging us into that unity of all things in Christ. At first cons'ideration, the elderly may seem an. unlikely group to demonstrate that mutuality in ministry is possible. Often, our culture tends to focus only on the losses and depreciation of old age. Economically, in terms of the relationship Of expenditure to production, the aged person is viewed as Acts 20:35 346 Towards Mutuality in Ministry / 347 a liability. From the viewpoint of the dominant values of medicine, the process of human aging is considered to be totally negative. Moreover, the experiences of many people attest to the losses of aging: loss of income, loss of role, loss of status, loss of affection, loss of competency, loss of power-- to name a few.2 .Certainly, the elderly seem to be a group with serious needs, and meeting these needs can become an all encompassing task. However, to look only at the negative aspects of aging and to focus solely on the needs of the aged, starts us ministers on the road to that dualistic l-as-opposed- tozyou mentality. If mutuality is to be a possibility, we must get beyond the needs to the person. As we meet the person, it is my experience that we will find that revelation continues to take place, that we can receive. "What we like best about your visits, Sally, is that they help us to remember." This comment of one of our parishioners personalized what Becker describes as the special function of the pastoral minister, that is . to "bring up to date," so to speak, the treasury of accepting relationships in the life of the older person. The personal relationships which the pastor activates in the contem-porary history of the elderly will help them to "remember" (anamnesis) the past mercies of God, the past loving, unconditional acceptance of family, friends and members of the household of faith (hopefully)? ~ Becker goes on to indicate that this remembering is biblical in nature. It takes on the import that it has in the Scriptures especially in the Old Testament where "remembering was understood not merely in the sense of recall, but in the sense of reliving, reactualizing by recollection.'" Thus, in listening to the story of a~person's life, often we hear an individualized, unique version of salvation history; a testimony tothe action of God i'n the life of that person. ~ Nouwen says that the "great vocation of the minister is to continuously make connections between the human story and the divine story.''~ Several of the elderly people with whom I have had contact have made,these connections themselves during the course of their lives. From them 1 have learned much about their individual lives, much about the mystery of life, and much about the God who informs all our lives. From them, too, I have learned much about m~own humanity and my identity as a religious. That I would learn about the htiman condition 'from the elderly did not surprise me; in fact, 1 expected to learn from those who had experienced so much more of life~ However, 1 was unprepared for the fact that the lives of the elderly would have so much to say about religious,life, Yet, aging thrusts a person into new relationships with poverty, 10helines~ and oppression, the very conditions to which the vows speak. Thus,. 1 found that the elderly stand with us religious in witnessing to 2 Evelyn E. Whitehead, "Religious Images of Aging", in Aging and the Elderly, Spicker et al., eds., p. 37. ~ ~ Arthur H. Becker, "Judgment~and Grace in the Aging Process", Pastoral Psychology, XXVII (Spring 1979), p. 188. ' Ibid., p. 188. ~ Henri J. M. Nouwen, The Living Reminder (New York: Seabury Press, 1977), p. 24. 3411 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 common values. Let us explore this a little more deeply. According to Johannes Metz: Poverty as an evangelical virtue is a protest against the tyranny of having, of possessing and of pure self-assertion. It impels those practicing it into practical solidarity with those poor whose poverty is not a matter of virtue, bui is their condition of life and the situa-tion exacted of them by society.6 Actually, many middle-class people are impelled into practical solidarity with the poor by old age. Living on a fixed income in our inflation-ridden society does not allow some elderly people even modest comforts. For these, poverty is a new experience which can either be creative or devastating. It is creative for those who, during the course of their lives, have realized that the quality of a person's life is not determined by possessions or achievements. On the other hand, if a person's life has been completely caught up in amassing more money and possessions, the poverty that old age brings will be devastating. Those who deal with their new poverty in a creative way have much to say to those of us who accept poverty willingly. These people demonstrate how poverty can open the heart to surprise, wonder and delight in the simple things of life. Consider, eighty-nine-year-old Bernie whose eyes sparkled as she showed me a jar of grape jelly, the gift of her granddaughter. The jar of jelly represented much more than a welcome addition to her diet; it told her that she was loved and remembered. To Bernie, it was a confirmation of the goodness of people, and ultimately, the goodness of God. Faced with this sincere gratitude for such a little thing, I find myself becoming more'and more aware of the many gifts I have been given. Material possessions fade in mean-ing next to such gifts as good health, friends, and joy in living. It is with people such as Bernie that we religious can grow "to recognize, even celebrate, a deeper truth-- that no one ever earns his way, that life's meaning is more a gift than a reward.'" However, while appre~:iating the qualities such as gratitude which the elderly manifest, we must not lose sight of the poverty in which' they are rooted. This poverty is real. It is the kind of poverty that makes three meals a day a luxury and has the elderly counting out their last bit of change in the supermarket. It is the kind of poverty that keeps the house cold all winter long because utility costs are skyrocketing. It is the kind of poverty that isolates because traveling is impossible and a telephone is beyond their means. In short, it is the kind of poverty that invades one's very being; If we allow ourselves to see poor people like these, to meet them and to be touched by them, 1 believe that we religious will be challenged. What the outcome will be in terms of living out poverty will be up to each of us. But the elderly will have ministered to us, repeating the words of Christ: "There is one thing more you must do. Go and sell what you have and give to the poor; yow will have 6 Johannes B. Metz, Followers of Christ (New York: Paulist Press, 1978), p. 49. ' Whitehead, op. cir., p. 45. ~ Towards Mutuality in Ministry treasure in heaven. After that, come and follow me.''8 Metz goes on to define celibacy:. . celibacy as an evangelical virtue is the expression of an insatiable longing for the day of the Lord. it impels toward solidarity with those unmarried people whosecelibacy (that is to say loneliness; that is to say not having anyone) is not a virtue but their social destiny, and towards those who are shut up in lack of expectation and in resignation.9 ~' Along with poverty, old age often brings a new form of loneliness. Distance from family and friends becomes a foe too formidable for the decreasing energy of the elderly to overcome. Opportunities for making new friends are often more severely limited than before. Ultimately, death itself provides the final separation. With the realization that much more of one's life lies in the past than in the future, loneliness can assume new proportions. Only when they are older do some ~people seem to realize how lonely their lives have been. John, a single adult of seventy-six, admits that now he is fascinated by children. He loves to be with them, to talk with them, to play with them, to watch them. He claims that in his younger days I~e never reflected on what it would mean to "live on" through children. Now, he sees this as a definite lack in his life, a choice that he drifted into rather than con-sciously made. Loneliness has made him a~are of his lack of responsibility for his life and he regrets what might have been. However, his new awareness of the fact that life is meant to be lived with and for others has led him into caring for his older sister who is handicapped. Thus, loneliness for John, has led not to resignation but to service. Our loneliness which results from our celibate way of life can lead to ser-vice also. However, this is different from using ministry to neutralize one's loneliness. Just as John has moved from the experience of loneliness to that of being with and for another, so too, must we religious come in touch with our loneliness in order that we may capture its implications for service. For some people, the lonelines~ of old age is a new experience, one which can make them more vulnerable. Consider eighty-nine year old Bill who, in the nice weather, spends most of his time enjoying the warmth of the sun in front of his house. One day he was approached by a well-dressed man who claimed to be a friend of his son. After some pleasant conversation, Bill in- ViCed him into his home where the man proceeded to rob him. Bill's hurt and outr,age stemmed not so much from the loss of mbney but from the fact that "he came as a friend, but in reality was a crook." Yet, Bill was willing to risk again. He opened his door to me, another stranger, and invited me to share a part of his life. For him, loneliness helped to keep alive the hope that relation-ships are possible. This willingness to risk is an important quality for us religious to cultivate. What is the point oi" celibacy if we surround ourselves with people who protect us from meeting strangers? Our celibacy demands that we also be open to Mark 10:21. Metz, op. cir., p, 60. ~150 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 others in ways that manifest the hope that relationships are possible. Such openness calls for risks, and the elderly who often have been separated from their life-long companions can show us how to take such risks. The loneliness of the elderly, which is accentuated by a new awareness of death, can lead them to greater depths of faith and hope. If the, lives of the elderly tell us that relationships with people are possible, so too do they announce the reality 6f ~ relationship with God. Moreover, this relation.ship with God is not merely limited to the present, but has eternal dimensions as well. The elderly 1 have come in contact with have revealed a variety of ways of relating to the Lord in prayer. For some, recitation of formal prayers like the rosary is very comforting. Others have discovered fgrms of contemplative prayer. One woman, unable to leave her home, said tl~at at first she missed attending church, but then came to the conviction that the whole worldis a cathedral and that God is truly present everywhere. She looks forward to experiencing this presence in a new way after death. For me, her faith~an~d hope serve as a reminder of Jesus' words: "I am the resurrection. If, anyone believes in me, even though he dies he will live, and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.'''° It is in union with people such as these that our "longing for the day of the Lord" takes on corporate dimensions. It is in union with people such as these that we religious can break out of our own "lack of expectation and resigna'- tion." It is in union with people such as these that we religious can penetrate into the true meaning and value of our celibacy. Finally, Metz defines the ex~angelical virtue of obedience as: the radical and uncalculated surrender of one's life to God the Father who raises up and liberates. It impels one to stand close to those for whom obedience is not a matter of virtue, but the sign of oppression and of being placed in tutelage, and to do this in a prac-tical way.'t Growing older changes relationships, and often the elderly find themselves the victimsof oppression. A well-meaning son or daughter becomes convinced that the aged parent cannot live alone, and forces a move either to a relative's home or to a nursing home. An irate landlord, angered by the low rent an elderly person pays, refuses to make needed repairs. Doctors who refuse to make house calls make more frequent hospital stays necessary. The violent who prey uppn frail older persons can turn a routine trip to the bank in.:io a traumatic experience, and cause a person to live locked at home in fear. It is much the way Jesus put it to Peter: "When you were young you put on your own beet and walked where you liked; but when you grow old you will stretch out your hands, and somebody else will put a belt around you and take you where you would rather not go.'''2 Recently, I received a phone call from a woman whose children and grand- John I 1:25-26. Metz, op. cit., p. 67. John 21:18. Towards Mutuality in Ministry / 351 children were trying to move her to another state to be with them. "Please, please save me from their clutches." Her cry touched me deeply. Several days later I visited her. The pain of moving, the pain of leaving what had been home for forty-five years, the pain of separating from friends and neighbors, the pain of uncertainty about the future, were all still .there. However, something else was there, too. "They want me to move because they love me, and so I am going," she told me. Love was able to penetrate through her pain and make surrender a positive action. It is from this woman that 1 have learned much about "letting go," a characteristic so necessary for obedience. This attitude does not act as a sedativ~ for the pain that can result from having our desires and plans thwarted. It is not a withdrawal from life, a giving up because we cannot have what we want. Rather, it involves an active acceptance of what is, embracing the pain along with the joy. "Letting go" calls for seeing things in true perspective without the warping that our own fears and prejudices can bring to a situation. When we cannot let go of something it is usually because we wish that it were other than it is. We hold on to a relationship after its vitality is gone, wishing that it could return to its former intimacy. We insist on our way of ministering to others, wishing that their needs matched our own gifts a little more closely. We hold on to our anger and hurts, savoring them, but wishing that we were not so fragile and vulnerable. And yet, the wishing changes nothing. Our former friend moves out of our life. The ways in which we are asked to serve are often not what we would choose. We remain vulnerable people. It is in the difficulties that We experience in "letting go" that we religious are most closely united to those subject to oppression. Neither situation is easily remedied; both requi~e struggle. Yet the struggle itself is not sufficient to achieve liberation. This remains the gift of God. "If the Son makes you free you will be free indeed.'''~ And so, while we continue to struggle, we learn from others that the love which makes surrender possible is available to us. The elderly can teach us that liberation is a real possibility. In conclusion, as I have~ been ministering to the elderly, they in turn have ministered to me in a variety of ways. They have helped to bring about a new awareness and sensitivity in my ministry. I have become more conscious of the mutuality, in relationships, more apprec~ia~ive of the role of others in my life. "Giver" and "receiver" no longer seem like isolated, opposed ways of being. In fact, I understand to a greater degree how "it is in giving that we receive." This understanding helps me to approach others with more'humility and respect. No matter in what ways I minister to others, I am aware that they also are ministering to me. Mutuality in ministerial relationships offers oppor-tunities for growth that few of us, if any, can afford to pass by. John 8:36. Come and See: The "Cottage Program" M. Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O. Father Pennington's last article, "The Vocation of the 'Vocation Father,' "appeared in the May, 1979 issue. He continues to be "Vocation Father" at St. Joseph's Abbey; Spencer, MA 01562. The "Cottage Program" is an instrument of our cooperation in the mystery of the genesis of a vocation that I wanted to share with you through these pages. In our times, as it had been in the eleventh or in the fourth century, or in the time of Christ himself, serious-minded young men and women seek a teacher, a guide, a master-- someone who could give a fuller meaning to their lives. Andrew and John had traveled south, taking time off from their work. They had heard tell of a teacher, a prophetic man of God, on the banks of the Jordan, and joined the stream of seekers heading in that direction. They listened, they learned, they understood--perhaps more deeply than most, because, when the teacher pointed to another, they followed him. And he asked them: "What do you seek?" Ultimately,. that is the question the Lord addresses to each one of us. And the answer we give is the most significant decision of our lives, the decision that, consciously or unconsciously, decides all else that we do. If we listen to the deepest ye~arning of our hearts, we, too, will respond, "Master, where do you dwell?" Master!. Yes. Be our master, our teacher, our guide, and let us abide with you, wherever that may be for us. And he replies, "Come and see!" It is when we experience this presence of God, speaking to our deepest hearts, that we know we have found our Master, our Way, our Life. Some years ago I was in Rome taking part in a vocation conference sponsored by the Sacred Congregation for Religious. There were brothers and 352 Come and See: The "'Cottage Program" / 353 sisters, priests and lay religious from many nations taking part in the conference. One of the modern features of this conference was that each par-ticipant was :free to speak in his or her own language. One evening in the course of the program we had a question box. Archbishop Paul Philippe, the Secretary of the Congregation, was presiding, reading out the questions found in the box, and inviting answers from the floor. "Now, here is an interesting question," he said. "How do you get across to a young person the idea of the contemplative life?" A little priest from Brazil, a Salesian with an Irish name like McHale, jumped up. In rapid-fire Portuguese he explained that the only way one can convey to a person the nature and meaning of the contemplative life is to bring him or her into con-tact with it, and let him or her discover its meaning, l think Father was right. And I believe that is equally true of any way of religious life or anylife of a transcendent nature. "Come and see." That is the thinking behind theCottage Progr.am. There is on the property of St. Joseph's Abbey (near Spencer, Massachusetts) a small stone house with six rooms in all. It was built in the 1920's, hut the lodge-like living room boasts beams over two-hundred years old, taken from a barn that stood in the days of Ethan ~llen, the onetime owner of the property. The kitchen and dining-room have been converted into bedrooms. The garage is now a chapel, dedicated to St. John the Baptist, the 'first vocation director. In an icon over the altar he points to Christ in the tabernacle. Standing in the shadow of the recently built abbey, the cottage offers young men interested in monastic life the opportunity to "come and see." It is usually full, and at times more than full ("full" means five men, but the rooms can accommodate two, and there is also the attic. There is always room for one more!). Those staying at the cottage follow very much the same schedule as the monks. They' form a little community of their own, so they won't feel strange or lost in the large monastic community, but they do join the monks for the Office, the Eucharist and work. The men are welcome to come for a day, a weekend, a week, or sometimes even 'longer-- whatever seems good for them. They are encouraged to think of the cottage as their home--a sort of spiritual home base. They may come whenever they wish. To date, no one has abused this open hospitality. The first visit is usually preceded by some reading about life .in the monastery. Each evening the candidates (or "cottagers," as they are sometimes called) gather around the great stone hearth for a colloquium or a conference with the Vocation Father, where they can learn of the wisdom and ways of the monks and have their questions answered. In the course of his visit, each young man is given practical instructions on how to do spiritual or faith reading and how to meditate. If he already has a method of meditation which has proved fruitful for him, he is encouraged to continue in it. If it is one learned from an Eastern master, he is helped to see how to place it in a Christian framework so as to open it to the Spirit, to faith, 354 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 and to love, so that it can truly be prayer. Before he leaves, the candidate is asked to formulate his own rule of life and to go over it with the Vocation Father. Our method for this is simple: After reflecting prayerfully on l Corin-thians 2, the candidate takes four sheets of paper. On the first; he tries to ex-press as succintly as he can the present goals of his life as he sees them. On the second, he lists as fully as possible the things he has to do to attain these goals. On the third, he lists the things he sees have been preventing him from moving toward his objectives. And, finally, on the fourth, he formulates a daily pro-gram for himself, and also a weekly and monthly schedt~ie of particulai: events.* This gives the candidate a concrete, practical support for bringing into his everyday life something of what he has learned and experienced as he shared the monks' life accordin.g to their Rule. Such an experience helps the young man to recognize and foster' the grace of vocation he is receiving. In some chses, it may be a long time before an individual can enter the monastic community. The qottage, though, already gives him a sense that in some way he already belongs, that he has his place in the monastery and a'spiritual father who cares for him. In some cases, the cottage experience puts the young man in touch with the contemplative dimen-sion of his life and shows him how to develop it, even as he moves on to some other vocation. It is not as easy for active religious communities to provide a Cottage Program as it is for monastic communities whose life is centered in a stable fashion in one place. But it is not impossible, and I think it can be, in some way or form, very useful. Let me suggest what I think could be an ideal form for an active religious institute. Obviously, the ideal always has to be adapted as it finds its ieal incarnations. It has been my experience over the years that there are a significant number of active religious who feel the call to a more contemplative form of life, either on a temporary or a permanent basis. It seems sad that they must, in most cases, think of going outside their own communities to realize this. :Far better would it be I think, if, ea~:h province or congregation had its own contem-plative house or house of prayer. Here a core group of members, committed for varying periods of time, could live the spiritual dimension of the particular charism of the community in a fuller way, and devote time.to a deeper study of the institute's proper ~:harism. It would be a place where the other members of the community could come, for days of recollection or longer retreats, to get more deeply in touch with their shared charism, their own deepest spirit. Such a house of prayer or contemplative center would, of cours~e, form a very precious and enriching adjunct for the novitiate and house of formation. It could also greatly encourage and inspire the retirement community as the seni6r members live out their life commitment in a more c0nte.mplative way. Here, though, I am thinking of such a house as a context within which the o *For a fuller treatment of this method, see°the Epilogue of my book, Daily We Touch Hhn. Come and See: The "'Cottage Program'" / 355 vocation father or mother could offer the ministry of hospitality. The aspirants would be able to perceive in the core group,a good expression of the spiritual and communal aspects of the life of that community. It is precisely an attraction to these aspects that often leads ~ oung men and women to explore the possibility of living out their commitment to Christ and his Body in a religious community. There would always be a group of professed religiou~ there with whom the candidates could pray and work. These would normally be members more reflectively conscious of the charism of their community, of their own participation in the grace of the founder. And so they would be able to help the aspirants to identify the grace stirring in their own hearts. Such an arrangement-- a vocation program within the context of a house of prayer or contemplative center--will not always be possible, or even desirable in some cases. Another alternative for a Cottage Program would be the house of formation or novitiate, if the vocation father or mother could find a bit of space there; a few rooms, for the candidates and themselves, and a common room are enough. The formation team could be the "stable com-munity" providing the lived experience for the aspirants. And these young men or women could readily identify with the young people in the formation or novitiate program. Whatever the arrangements, the ingredients that seem to contribute to the makimal success of such a program are:" 1. The presence of a professed community which obviously lives the spiritual aspects of the vocation., though thi~ does not exclude involvement in active .apostolates. 2. Access to the younger members of the community who have recently embarked on this life and with whom the candidates can easily identify. 3. A vocation father/mother willing and able to function as a spiritual father/mother, to instruct in the spiritual arts, to pray with the candidates, and to pray for them. 4. Practical instruction in spiritual reading, meditation (we usually use Centering Prayer), and the art of receiving spiritual guidance. Merton's little book, Spiritual Direction and MeditatiOn, published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota, is good for this. 5. A rule of life. 6. An open and welcoming hospitality. We have found that frequently candidates tell others of their experience at the cottage and are eager to have them share ira this program. This has added to the almost geometric increase of caffdidates we have experienced since we have inauguratedthe Cottage Program. There are many other programs underway~in different religious orders and congregations, which include~ one or othi~r of the aspects of the Cottage Program. I do not propose this program as the only way or the best way, but simply share it as one way, a way that has worked very well for us. I believe it 356 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 has been not only successful in fostering vocations for our own community (we have seventeen in the novitiate at the moment), butin making a contribu-tion to other religious communities, and to the Church at large. This year more than three hundred fifty have stayed at the cottage. All have found it a beneficial experience. Each learned at least a little more~ about prayer; about community, about Christ our Lord and his great love for each one of us. Such fruit makes a Cottage Program more than worthwhile. Now Available As A Reprint Celibate Genitality by William F. Kra[t Price: $.50 per copy, plus postage. " Address: Review for Religious Am 428 3601 Llndell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Vocations: Identity and Commitment M. Marceiline Falk, C.PP.S. Sister Marcelline teaches at Bishop DuBourg High School; 5850 Eichelberger; St. Louis, MO 63109. Clearly we are living in times of crises. There are financial and political crises that make the front pages of our daily papers and evening newscasts. But there is another crisis, one that is becoming, or should be, of great interest and concern to those who love the Church of.Christ: that is the crisis of voca-tions to women's religious communities. " For centuries women religious, by their consecrated lives and devoted labors have fulfilled an important mission in the Church. Will they be able to continue that mission? Only if they are able to maintain their membership in sufficient numbers to continue in existence and so perform the apostolic ser-vices that the Church has entrusted to them. The severe drop in the number of vocations to women's religious com-munities is well-known. It is interesting to observe that both the sudden drop in religious vocations and the massive exodus of religious women engaged in active apostolates occurred at the same time that many communities were discarding religious habits, leaving earlier apostolates for other forms of ser-vice, and adopting life-styles more nearly !ike those of their secular counter-parts. Is there a causal relationship or at least a significant correlation between these concurrent phenomena? Are commitment to a specific apostolate and a readily perceived identity important factors in the viability of religious com-munities, as they are in other groups and organizations? Does a distin-guishable garb help to build an identity, promote a visibility which encourages vocations, make known that a religious woman is somehow different? Does a specific apostolic commitment attract the generosity of young women? Are 357 358 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 external life-style practices related to the number of vocations that a religious community can expect? If the answer to these questions is "Yes" then perhaps this will be instructive in our efforts to reverse the trend of too few vocations. In an attempt to find answers to the above questions, to ascertain the percentage of youthful members' in communities, and to establish a possible correlation between youthful membership and some readily observable life-style characteristics, 1 conducted a survey during the spring and summer of 1978. The results of this survey indicate that, indeed, the answer to these ques-tions is in the affirmative~ The results clearly show that religious communities which have kept a readily identifiable religious habit, however modified, and which engage in well-defined community apostolates do have more vocations. Many have adopted modified habits, but they are still readily identifiable as religious women~ Further, the term, "a definite community apostolate," need not preclude other works of charity being undertaken by the community in response to real need, when the work is not contrary to the spirit of the com-munity, and does not detract from the primary apostolate. The following questionnaire was sent only to major superiors of 300 active religious communities.2 The names were selected in a random manner from approximately 800 listed in the 1975 Catholic Directory. Responses were received from 223 or 74°70 of the sample. Of these, two were incomplete. The questionnaire used follows: Survey on Religious Life-style Practices A. 1. Nameofcongregation (or province) 2. Number of final professed sisters " 3. N~mber of sisters in temporary commitment 4. Number of novices of postulants 5. Number of other types of formation (pleasespecify) B. Policy of Congregation in regard to the following: 1. Is there a (superior, coordinator, Yes.____, No___. 2. 3. 4. .) in charge in each local house? Is this person elected , appointed ., other Other types of local government Are personnel appointments made a) __ by direct appointment.'?, ~. b) __ by choice of individual? c) __ by assignmer~t after consultation with the sister d) __ other (specify) Does your congregation have a definite commitment to a specific apostolate in the Church? Yes , No ? What is/are the principal apostolate(s) your sisters serve? Does your congregation have an official, d~stmctive habit? Yes " , No~__. ' Youthful membership includes sisters in temporary profession or promises and novices. Total membership includes final professed, temporary professed and novices. 2 Very small communities and contemplative communities were not included. Vocations: Identity and Commitment / 359 8. Does your congregation permit the use of secular dress? Yes~, No__. a) At the sister's own discretion? b) With thepermission of the major superior? c) Other (please specify) 9: Do the sisters have the use of a personal bridget? Yes~, No~. a) Is there a fixed amount? b) For what purpose may this budget be used? The questions in Part A we~:e used to provide information about the number of religious, and to determine the percentage of youthful membership in the congregations surveyed. The percentage of youthful membership can be used as an indicator of viability or numerical stability. Data from questions in l~art A were analyzed, and results are given in the following table. Com-munities were divided into nine groups, according to the percent of youthful members: Table I Group 07o Youthful Members No. of Communities % of Total Sample I Over 10% 18 8.1 o10 11 9.9-6.00/o 19 8.6°1o 111 5.9-4.507o ' 23 10.4070 IV 4.4-3.5070. " 28 12.6070 V 3.4,2.0070 29 13.1 070 VI 2.4-2.0% 29 13.107o VII 1.9-1.5°/0 23 10.40/o VIII 1.4-1.00/o 27 12.2% IX Less than 1 070 25 I 1.3% Let us assume that an average of about 10%0 of young members will allow a religious institute to maintain its membership,3 and that about five years elapse between entrance into the novitiate and final profession. This would mean that an average yearly entrance rate of about 2% would be required to maintain a numerically stable community.' If we accept this percentage of new members as necessary for the maintenance of numerical stability in the community, it takes into account an expected loss of 2% due to death or departures. Communities, then, which can categorize 10% of their population as "young," and which also have an influx of new members at the rate of 2% per year, would have a numerically stable, or even increasing membership. If a community can only describe 5% of its membership as young, this would indicate that it has been receiving new members at a rate of about 1%. A youthful population of 2% would suggest admissions at the rate of 0.4% annually. In each of these instances, given the typical 2% proportion of change due to death and departure, losses to the total membership would be statistically predictable: 1% and 1.6% respectively. The same predictability ' "Religious in the World (Statistics up to Dec. 31, 1974)," Consecrated Life I, No. 1 (1977). ' For example, a community of 500 would need an average of ten new members per year to main-tain a stable membership. 360 / Review for Religious, l/olume 39, 1980/3 would pertain to each of the nine categories of communities in our sampling. On the basis of these calculations, Group I would be expe.cted to maintain or increase its total membership. Communities in Groups II find IlI could be expected to have progressively slightly reduced membership. If the present trend continues for groups IV, V, and VI, their membership would probably be halved in three to five decades, while those in Groups VII, VII1 and IX might well cease to exist in about three decades. Obviously these calculations are premised on present trends. Factors, however, coulffchange in the future, and this could retard the fulfillment of these predictions-- or accelerate them. Part B of the questionnaire is concerned with som~ external, behavioral characteristics. The characteristics chosen are different from those usually associated with ~ecular life-styles, and traditionally have been common characteristics among active communities of religious women. Numbers one and two have to do with community governance. Numbers three through six are concerned with apostolate and personnel assignment. Numbers seven and eight deal with the matter of religious habit, and nine, with the question of personal budget. In each of thes~ areas, change became evident after the Second Vatican Council. One of the purposes of the survey was to explore the possibility that these changes had an influence on the incidence of vocations to the respective communities. To this end, the number and percentages of communities which evidenced a particular characteristic were tabulated, and compared against the percent-age of young members each community enjoyed. My fullest hopes in pursuing this investigation were not realized. Nothing could be concluded about postulants, or persons in other types of formation. Responses to questions 2 and 3B, concerning local governance, proved ambiguous, and indications concerning amounts and usages in the matter of personal budgets were too varied to admit of interpretation. Therefore, for purposes of our study, only Part A and questions 1, 4, 7, 8 and 9 of Part B proved useful for our analysis. In the tables which follow, the responses to the various items are grouped on the basis of .the proportion of youthful me.rnbers, i.e., on the basis of how those communities have succeeded in draw-ing new members to join them. Table 2 Percent of Communities With a Person in Charge at the Local Level Number in Group % of Group 10070 15 out of 18 83.3%0 9.9-6.007° 16 out of 19 84:2°/0 5.9-4.5070 18 out of 23 78.3070 4.4-3.5070 20 out of 28 71.4%0 3.4-2.5% 17 out of 29 58.4% 2.4-2.0% 18 out of 29 62.1% 1.9-1.5o/0 17 out of 23 73.9°70 1.4-1.0% 15 out of 27 55.6% Less than I% 21 out of 25 84.0% :Vocation~: Identity and Commitment / 361 Table 3 Percent of Communities with Personnel Placement After Consultation Number in Group °/o of Group 10% 16 out of 18 88.9% 9.9-&0%o 16 out of 19 84.2070 5.9-4.5°7o 17 out of 23 73.9°/o 4.4-3.5¢/0 24 out of 28 85.7%0 3:4-2.5%0 18 out of 29 62.1°/0 2.4-2.0%o 24 out of 29 82.8% 1.9-1.5%0 14 out of 23 60.9% 1.4-1.0% 20 outof 27 70.1% Less than 1% 20 out of 25 80.0% Table 4 Percent of Communities With Specific Community Apostolic Service Number in Group a/o of Group 10% 15 out of 18 83.3% 9.9-6.0% 16 out of 19 84.2% 5.9-4.5% 19 out of 23 82.6% 4.4-3.5% 23 out of 28 82. 1% 3.4-2.5% i4 out of 29 48.3% 2.4-2.0% 15 out of 29 51.7% 1.9-1.5% 14 out of 23 60.9% 1.4-1.0% 12 out of 27 44.4% Less than 1% 12 out of 25 48.0% Table 5 Percent of Communities with a Distinctive Habit Number in Group °/o of Group 10% 16 out of 18 88.9% 9.9-6.0% 15 out of 19 80~0% 5.9-4.5% 13 OUt of 23 56.5% 4.4-3.5% 23 out of 28 82.1% 3.4-2.5% 14 out of 29 48.3% 2.4-2.0% 14 out of 29 48.3% 1.9-1.5% 11 out of 23 47.8% 1.4-1.0% 8 out of 27 29.6% 1.0% 13 out of 25 52.0% Table 6 Percent of Communities Permitting Secular Dress at Sister's own Discretion Number in Group ~o of Group 10% 2 out of 18 I1.1% 9.9-6.0% 4 out of 19 21.0% 5.9-4.5%0 6 out of 23 26.1% 4.4-3.5% 9 out of 28 32.1% 3.4-2.5% 15 out of 29 51.7% 2.4-2.0% 17 out of 29 58.6% 1.9-1.5% 15 out of 23 65.2% 1.4-1.0% 19 out of 27 70.4% 1.0% 17 out of 25 68.0% 362 / Review for Religious, 'Volume 39, 1980/3 Table 7 Percent of Communities Using a Personal Budget Number in Group % of Group 10% 5 out of 18 27.8%0 9.9-6.0% 10 out of 19 52.6%o 5.9-4.5% 16 out of 23 69.6%0 4.4-3.5%o 22 out of 28 78.6%0 3.4-2.5% 27 outof 29 93.1% 2.4-2.0% 28 out of 29 96.6% 1.9-1.5% 20out of 23 ¯ 87.0% 1.4-1.0% 26 out of 27 96.3% 1.0% 25 out of 25 100.0% These tables indicate that the characteristics of a specific community apostolate and a distinctive habit do have a strong influence on the number of youthful members, and therefore, on the number of vocations to a com-munity. To test the degree of relationship between the given characteristic and the percent of youthful membership, a statistical analysis of the data given in the previous tables was made. The usual instruments of the Spearmann cor-relation coefficients and significance tests were used to demonstrate statistical correlation between the percentage of youthful members and .the various characteristics with the following results,~ The correlation between youthful membership and the characteristic of having "a person in charge at the local level" did not show any 'appreciable significance. The correlation was 38.33.07o with a corresponding significance of ¯ 154. This is evident from the data, which do not show much variation. Most communities reported a person in charge. Answers to the questionnaire on this point were frequently qualified by such statements as: "Yes, but not in smaller houses," or: "No, except in the larger houses." The correlation between youthful membership and the use of a personal budget is even less, at -31.67070, having a significance of .203. The negative correlation indicates that there is some slight decrease in the use of the budget as the percentage of youthful members increases. Again, although most com-munities indicated the use of a personal budget, the amount and kinds of restrictions on its use varied from very small amounts for the purchase of small, personal items to large amounts with practically unrestricted use. It was interesting to note that the use of th.e personal budget was least evident among communities which did not permit secular dress. Personnel placement after consultation with sisters shows a somewhat higher correlation, of 60.0°70, and a significance of .044. Possibly there is a ~ Spearmann correlation percentages, based on O- 100%, measure the tendency of two variable~ to vary ~together, that is to show a relationship to each other. Significance tests decide whether dif-ferences between values obtained from the samples and theoretical expeclations could be due to chance. A low significance factor indicates that the relationship studied could not be due to chance. Vocations: Identity and Commitment / 363 relationship between community apostolate and the placement of personnel in areas of community commitment. Of significance is the very high correlation between the number of young members and the existence of a specific community apostolate (90.0°7o and a significance of .001). This strongly suggests that a community commitment to a specific service in the Church has a strong influence on vocations. Such apostolic services were not necessarily limited to only one area of the apostolate. Many communities, in fact, indicated a wide range of apostolic services. But they were community apostolates, and not left to individual choice. A distinctive religious habit is also a significant factor in the number of youthful religious in a community. In this case, the correlation percent is 77.8070, with a significance factor of .007. The most highly significant correlation was the inverse ratio between the number of youthful members and the use of secular clothes at the sister's own discretion. Here a-98.33070 correlation coefficient, and a significance of .001 clearly indicate the negative influence of this characteristic on vocations.6 Ap-parently commun~ities having an open option for secular clothes fail to attract many young women. The characteristics analyzed in this study cannot be the only ones which in-fluence the number of vocations, and so affect the numerical stability of a religious community. Neither are they necessarily a measure of the internal fervor, or of the importance of a particular community's contribution to the Church and the People of God. Other aspects, such as the quality ofcom-munity prayer life, the kind of apostolate, the geographic location,ethnic origin, time of founding--as well as many other intangibles, such as com-munity spirit, understanding of the vows, and other internal characteris-tics- will certainly also have an effect on the overall picture. However, the statistical analysis of the data obtained in the questionnaire does clearly indicate that, generally, communities with a specific and well-defined apostolate, and those which retain the visible sign of the habit do have a significantly greater number of young members. Apparently these two fac- . tors do, in large measure, provide the initial visibility, the instant recognition of "Who We Are," and "What We Do" that are capable of drawing new members to the communities that possess them. 6 The negative percent means that the use of secular dress has a strong adverse effect on religious vocations. 364 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 Since these characteristics, a reasonably specific apostolic service and a distinctive habit (or nonuse of secular clothes) does seem to show such a high significance, it might be interesting to apply the conclusions to a real community. I made an analysis of membership trends for one particular community. This community changed its apostolic thrust from education to an open-ended .apostolate, according to which its present policy is to permit new members to choose their own apostolic field of service. The use of secular dress was also left to the discretion of each sister. A comparison of the membership of this community between the years 1961 and 1978 shows the following:' Table 8 1961 1978 Nurfiber of Final Professed 513 458 Number in Temporary Vows 47 1 I Novices 48 3 Total Membership 608 472 In 1961, the youthful membership (novices and "juniors") was 95, or 15.6% of the total. In 1978, these numbered only 14, or 3% of the total membership. This represents a net los's of 136 sisters during this seventeen year period, a 22% loss. During this same period, 94 sisters died, and there were 80 new admissions. There were also over 100 departures. The major loss due to departures and a decline in admissions began in 1968, when the policies of individual choice of apostolic service and the use of secular dress became effective. At this time, a new formation program was introduced, placing a strong emphasis on self-fulfillment and promoting individual choice of apostolic service and of the mode of dressing. The median age in 1961 was about forty-eight years. In 1978, it had risen to about 63 years. In 1961, about half the community was professed less than twenty-five years. By 1978, half the community was professed for forty or more years. During the last ten years, since the new policies of self-choice in apostolic service and the use of secular dress went into effect, only fourteen sisters made first profession. Surely this would indicate that the rise in median age is rather due to a lack of new vocations, and of departures, than to a ¯ general rise in the median age of the population at large. Further, it is clear that the median age of this particular community is much too high for com-placency about the future. The following table shows the shift which took place in the median age of this community: ' The year 1961 was chosen as starting date because it was the last year before Vatican ll; 1978 is the latest date for which statistics were available. Vocations." Identity and Commitment / 365 Table 9 1961 1978 Number of Years Number of % Number of % of Professed Sisters Total Sisters Total More than 53 18 3.0 61 13.0 48-52 22 3.6 44 9.3 43-47 30 4.9 65 13.8 38-42 40 6.6 79 16.7 33-37 55 9.0 42 8.9 28-32 65 10.7 32 6.7 23-27 78 12.8 37 7.8 18-22 65 10.7 32 6.7 13-17 39 6.4 40 8.5 8-12 48 7.9 15 3.1 4- 7 54 8.9 8 1.7 3 or less (Including Novices) 95 15.0 14 3.0'- Prognostications from this table make it clear that if the trends continue, and are not somehow reversed, it will become increasingly difficult for this particular community to continue its service to the Church, that, indeed, it faces a struggle for survival in the not too distant future. The. decrease in religious vocations is a grave concern for the whole Church, as the following statement of Paul VI in an address to religious women indicates: ~ In truth, here again we have to" make a double observation that is not a happy one. Religious vocations, for women, too, are falling off; yet both the Church and secular society have a gro.wing need for these vocations. This is one of th~ problems of our time, for whose solution we must work and pray? The importance of identity and apostolic commitment in fostering voca-tions is stressed by Cardinal Pironio, Prefect of the Sacred Congregation for' Religious and Secular Institutes: In a serious study of consecrated life--particularly in evaluating certain attitudes and concrete activities--there is no doubt that many things would change if we responded with loyalty to this question: "What do Christ, the ecclesial community, and the world in which we live expect of us?" At any rate, there are three aspects in consecrated life which it would be well to emphasize: The Church expects religious to be faithful to their identi-ty, to their essential values, and to their evangelical relevance . Religious are, before all else, Christians, but they are religious in a way that is unmistakably distinct . Religious identity d0es not segregate religious from the rest of the members of the People of God, nor does it remove them from the world; on the contrary, it identifies them and involves them in the world with their own, unmistakable specificity . The loss of identity is one ~ Pope Paul VI, "New Horizons for Women Religious," address given to women religious on the feast of the Nativity of our Lady, 1964, Documents on Renewal for Religious, Daughters of St. Paul, 1974, p. 57. 366 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 of the causes today of the drop in vocations to consecrated life. When an institute's iden-tity disappears, or is jeopardized, it is only logical for young people to lose their en-thusiasm and become disoriented. Being faithful to one's self is therefore to take on a strong commitment with God and with men. it is the essence of our vocation, and of our consecration, and of our mission.~ I The words of our Holy Father, John Paul II, spoken to mothers general on November 16, 1978, just one month after his election, are particularly significant: And if your consecration to God is really such a deep reality, it is not unimportant to bear permanently its exterior sign which a simple and suitable habit constitutes; it is the means to remind yourse!ves constantly of your commitment which contrasts strongly with the spirit of the world; it is a silent, but eloquent testimony that our secularized world needs to find on its way, as many Christians, moreover, desire. 1 ask you to turh this over carefully in your minds. '° This study of external behavioral characteristics as related to vocations is an attempt to contribute to a serious study of possible causes for the evident decline in the number of religious vocations to active communities of women in the United States. While it is true that this is only part of the total picture, it is hoped that a spirit of openness would encourage communities to consider seriously the impact of these external behavior patterns on the perception of what religious life is all about. The interior spirit of a community is of the ut-most importance, but the external manifestation of that spirit of dedication, the willingness to be recognized by a religious habit and the having of a specific apostolic commitment to the service of Christ in the Church and the world is also important. These externals advertise for all to see: "We are religious! We do believe that our.being and our service are essential to our specifically religious witness." 9 Eduardo Cardinal Pironio, "Th~ Joy of Fidelity," Consecrated Life Ill No. ~, 1979. ,o Pope John Paul 11, "Be True Daughters~ of the Church, Not Orily in Words But in Deeds," Strain Forward, Vol. 12, No. 1, January 1979. How About a Semi-Sermon Sometime? M. Eucharista Ward, O.S.F. Sister Eucharista teaches at St. Ladislaus Higl~ School; 2697 Caniff Ave.; Hamtramck, M 148212. It was hard to imagine how God could add to a spiritual nurturing that for ten years had seemed almost the equivalent of hothouse conditi

Issue 37.3 of the Review for Religious, 1978. ; Obedience in the Contemporary World Impassioned Presence: Religious Life and Leisure Cosmic Dimensions of the Eucharist Volume 37 ~ May 1978 : ' ~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is edited in collaboration with faculty members of the Department of Theology of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. © 1978 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $2.00. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $8.00 a year; $15.00 for two years. Other countries: $9.00 a year, $17.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. BOX 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor May, 1978 Volume 37 Number 3 Correspondence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and books for review. should be sent to REWEW FOa I~L~OtJS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19131. "Out of print" issues and articles not re-issued as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 North Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Ministry Rooted in the Vows Mary T. Rattigan, C.S.J. Sister Mary is presently director of the formation program in her province. She also teaches theology at St. John's University in Queens, NY. She resides at 39 Gifford Ave.; Jersey City, NJ 07304. Simply stated, ministry refers to the service rendered in the name of Jesus Christ. Such service is a faith-response to our being sent to continue the mission of Jesus in the world. At the moment, religious are experiencing new vistas of ministry being opened up to them. They also perceive their call to service as stemming directly from the acknowledgment and de-velopment of their gifts and talents. Current involvement in ministry, then, calls for an increased ability to discern individual gifts for service and an appreciation of emerging diversity in form and style. We are asked to keep in mind St. Paul's injunction: "There are all sorts of service to be done, but always to the same Lord, working in all sorts of different ways in different people . The particular way in which the.Spirit is given to each person is for a good purpose" (I Co 12:5-7). Regardless of its form, ministry can be broadly defined as those efforts directed to bringing the love and power of God to fruition in the world. Such efforts to build up the kingdom of God ultimately spring from a consciousness of the meaning of Christian mission. Hence, an understanding of ministry, which is normally the way mission is expressed, must be sought in the theology of mission. In the first place, mission theology pinpoints the Church's need to become a perfect sign of Christ in the world. It reminds us, moreover, that the whole Church, everywhere and in all its members, ismissionary. To be Christian and to be Church means to be "chosen" for service, to carry on the work of Christ in the world. It also places a heavy emphasis on the fact that although a 321 322 I Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/3 plurality of ministries exists, there is only one mission--the mission of the risen Jesus. This single mission; which has been entrusted to the members of his Church, is said to incorporate three elements. First, we share in this mission when we announce the new life received in Christ which makes the love and power of God available here and now. Second, acceptance of this mission demands that our life-style give credibility to this announcement. This requires a witness to the process of being personally transformed by the love and power of God. Third, we are invited to extend God's love and power by our actions so that the kingdom may be realized to a greater extent in history. From the the~ology of mission, then, it is possible to delineate the essential features of a life of service. And, to the extent a sense of mission becomes a personal reality for us, we can experience a reason for being "sent" and an urgency to respond to the kingdom-vision. Both a growing consciousness of the meaning of mission and the de-velopment of multiple forms of ministry are demanding that a second look be given to the evangelical vows. These factors, among others, are forcing religious to face the question of how the vows commit them to ministry. The need to understand the vowed life in relation to ministry is especially felt by those actively engaged in combating social injustice. The call to work for justice, equality and peace is demanding an articulation of the vows which is consonant with the social mission of the Church. By the same token, religious are wondering whether new aspects of the vows might not be emerging as they seek to confront the issues of justice, peace and equality. In either case, an understanding of the vowed life in the context of mission and ministry is deemed extremely important at this point of time. In fact,. a more adequate theology of religious life cannot be expected until an examination of the vows in .relation to ministry is undertaken. Apostolic religious have a heed to deepen their insights into the vows as a renewal of their baptismal commitment to service, to conceive of themselves as a community with a "commission" that shares the Church's mission re-sponsibility, and to think of religious profession as the public acceptance of ¯ this mandate to mission. The reflections which follow are intended to in-crease our understanding of the role of the vows in ministry, whether that ministry occurs within the Christian community itself or in society at large. Another Look at the Vows Religious have traditionally expressed their response to the call of dis-cipleship through the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. Until Vatican II, a certain clarity of understanding and expectation accompanied the evangelical life. But all too often in the past, the expression of the vows was equated with certain kinds of behavior, such as using material goods, abstaining from genital sexuality, and listening to the superior. With the renewal of religious life, however, the interpretation of the vows began to shift. Developments in theology, psychology and the social sciences forced Ministry Rooted in the Vows / 323 traditional notions of the vows to be placed under severe scrutiny. For more than a decade now, serious questioning and confusion have surfaced over the relevance of the vowed life to contemporary society. The ambiguity which surrounds the present living of the vowed life is multifaceted. Un-certainty has emerged as to whether the vows themselves constitute one's religious consecration. Objection has been voiced over the traditional vocabulary still employed for the vows. Doubt has also arisen regarding their very number, with the attendant suggestion that a single, more com-prehensive term be used to designate the commitment to religious life. The complexity of the situation is brought to even sharper focus when divergent interpretations are includedin the picture. Some perspective can be gained, however, when we recall that the internal thrust of the early years of renewal, with its intensely personalistic and communal concerns, perme-ated most attempts to rethink the vows. In retrospect we can appreciate the emphasis which had to be placed on calling forth individual religious to fuller personhood and responsibility. We also realize that community life demanded that interpersonal relationships be fostered and that new struc-tures of authority and government be adopted. But religious have now reached the point of desiring that their vows be perceived as integrally related to mission, as giving expression to their call to minister in Jesus' name. While much study remains to be done on the relation of vowsto the personal and communal aspects of our life, consideration must presently be given to the strongly sensed need to relate the vows more concretely to the apostolic or service dimension of religious life. The desire to seek ways of living the vows which will best express the call to mission can be recognized from the type of question being asked: What contribution can the vows make toward a more effective realization of the mission of Jesus in the world today? In what way do the vows enable religious to be effective ministers of the gospel, particularly in the area of social justice? It may be asked, why the current trend to relate the vows to mini~stry? Why do religious feel challenged to examine the vows as a source from which true ministry can flow? It i.s significant, I believe, that the renewed interest in the vows occurs at a time when religious have already given considerable attention to the spiritual resources needed for ministry. They have opted, for the most part, for a more intense personal spirituality. In an effort to reaffirm the importance of a deep prayer life, they are actively pursuing the charismatic movement, directed retreats, continued spiritual direction, and so forth. In line with this interest in spirituality, attention now focuses on the vows as spiritual resources which can be brought to bear on a life of service. As the thirst for spirituality extends itself to the vows, it represents a search for both a depth-dimension to life and a greater sense of integration. This depth-dimension can be characterized as a rootedness or centeredness which will serve to ground our apostolic ser-vice. The vows hold out the promise ofeffecting a sense of rootedness since 324 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/3 they encapsule basic orientations arid values which, if explicated and claimed as one's own, can provide roots o.r centering. Besides seeking deeper roots for service, religious are taking a fresh look at the vows out of a need to experience a greater degree of integration. They are led to wonder in what sense the vows can be considered an integrative force. Faced with a frequent sense of disharmony and discrepancy in ministry, they are led to inquire about the ability of the vows to "make whole." In other words, can the vows act as a unifier between the vision proposed by ministry and the reality actually achieved? In a world where it is ex-ceedingly difficult to experience any synthesis or integration, religious feel that the vowed life deserves to be reappraised for its integrating impact on their lives. Assumed in the quest for integration, however, is the underlying assumption that the vows cannot be viewed as external to service. Any authentic living of the vows will consist of ministering to the needs of others, especially those who are victims of injustice and oppression. We turn now to consider the spiritual resources offered by the vows when ministry is conceived as the presence of God's love and power in the world. Ministry as Presence One way to look at ministry is to regard it as presence. As the word is used here, presence is synonymous with the term sacrament taken in its broadest meaning. As an expression of mission, the object of ministry is to be a sign of God's transforming love and power. One who ministers is seen to be a symbol through which the God-life received in Jesus is embodied. The form which this kind of ministry takes is that of leading others to experience the divine element in their own lives and of bringing this to fuller expression. Ministry as sacramental, then, is concerned with fostering a response to the transforming love and power of God at work in the world. As a participation in the mission of Jesus, ministry partakes of the very mystery which marked the mission and ministry of Jesus himself. In this regard, St. John's gospel offers a clarification of the nature of this mission, and consequently, contributes towards an understanding of ministry as presence. The chief work of Jesus, as presented by the fourth evangelist, lies essentially in revealing the Father's love and power: "To have seen me is to have seen the Father" (Jn 14:9). The concept of ministry espoused here centers on Jesus being the presence of God in the world. Important for us, however, is the promise which accompanies this revelation for those who believe: ". to perform the same work as I do myself" (Jn 14:12). As the perfect image of the Father, Jesus gives his Spirit so that we may enjoy a similar relationship to God, and thus share his likeness of being a revelation of God in the world. Despite our limitations, we have been commissioned to be sacraments of the transforming love and power of God. This is the great mystery of ministry--a mystery which the vows help to disclose. Still further reinforcement for viewing ministry as presence is found in the fourth Ministry Rooted in the Vows / 395 gospel with the recorded statement of Jesus: ". I consecrate myself for their sakesnow, that they may be consecrated in truth" (Jn 17:19). Central to this Johannine emphasis is his notion of truth, which means to "make holy." Jesus himself is the truth, the holiness of God visibly manifested. His mission is to effect a greater possession of the truth which he is. Judged in this light, discipleship becomes a mandate to bear the message of the Father's love in our life. To be consecrated in truth, therefore, implies a process whereby the love and power of God can become enfleshed in us~a process which designates our apostolic mission: to make visible the presence of God in the world. From this perspective, ministry rests on the conviction that our life itself, which is a primary form of presence, is meant to be shared with those around us. It summons us to be vehicles of God's transforming love and power. Above all else, then, a ministry of presence asks that we witness to life in its transcendent dimension. The religious consecration of perpetual chastity, in particular, conveys a presence which elicits belief in the mystery of God's transforming love and power. This becomes possible when being unmarried for the sake of the kingdom is understood for what it actually encompasses. As St. Paul indicates, an unmarried woman "can devote herself to the Lord's affairs." His reason for extolling virginity, however, stems from the fact that she can give her "undivided attention to the Lord" (1 Co 7:32-35). All too often this passage has been interpreted solely in terms of the availability which religious possess for apostolic activity. But suggested by this Pauline directive is a relation of intimacyma relation characteristic of those who have allowed the love and power of God to come to fruition in their lives. Seen in this light, chastity commits re-ligious to deepen their own relationship to the Lord, and to undertake the task of concretizing this love in their relations with others. The goal of vowed chastity is judged to be concomitant with the witness called for in ministry--a witness to the mystery of God's transforming love and power. To remain celibate for the sake of the kingdom is itself a sign, and one which inserts religious into the very heart of mystery. It signifies a mystery not only to those we serve but it also continues to be an enigma even for those who have embraced it. The vow of chastity provides a way of saying concretely with our life something of the mystery which must be. accepted by all persons, namely, we are made to live in and for mystery, particularly its eschatological aspect--the final destiny which brings this mystery to fulfillment. Its witness might well be to offer others the opportunity to question their lives, what is the meaning of their lives, their goal. Quite simply, this becomes possible when religious cause others to wonder why. To be a catalyst for eliciting these questions requires that our life-style palpably express a personal consecration to the mystery of God's trans-forming love and power. Consequently, a ministry of presence is concerned with the values and attitudes which we embody in our relationships with 326 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/3 others. Granted this, the challenge facing religious is whether people around us can even glimpse the mystery of God's transforming power from the way we live. both as individuals and as communities. It must be asked, too, whether we facilitate the possibility of others arriving at a fuller sense of themselves as vessels of God's presence in the world. Since a ministry of presence centers on personal relationships, it places a high priority on the kind of.person we are rather than on any works we may perform. To what extent, then, does the vowed life enable this focus of our personhood to be reflected in our service? One instance worth noting is the way the vows help religious to go beyond the "performance principle." In a culture which tends to judge persons according to the efficiency with which they execute tasks, it is extremely difficult to maintain the primacy of personhood. Vowed chastity can foster the possibility of our being person-oriented. By refusing to be defined by our work or achievements, we can offer a chal-lenge to the pragmatic strain underlying our culture. When we identify ourselves in terms of our relationships, we should be in a better position to view others in terms of who they are rather than what they accomplish. To strike a happy balance between a life of presence and a task-oriented one is no easy achievement. In the interests of reality, the vows should at least prevent our service from being dominated by the standard of efficiency-- despite the fact that our service must indeed be efficient and competent. In connection with a work-ethic, a certain "market-orientation" can easily creep into the ministry of religious. Such marketable elements as success, relevance, prestige, and income should not form the criteria for apostolic service. Neither a choice of ministry nor a judgment regarding its effectiveness should be made on the basis of popularity, remuneration, low-risk factors, or other marketable values. In this regard, both the vows of poverty and obedience, as steps taken in faith, have a great deal to do with ministry. They offer a direction and a challenge to the choices we make and to the attitudes we espouse. The recent association of vowed poverty with work, the fact that religious are "subject to the common law of labor," serves to illustrate how a market-orientation might become operative for us. Since Vatican II, as we know, poverty has shifted from limiting the use of possessions to the consent of the superior to earning one's own living and aiding the poor with one's resources. Because of this expectation that they be self-supporting, religious might find themselves choosing an area of service based on remuneration. Also, in view of the growing elderly population in religious communities, they might feel pressured into ac-cepting a form of ministry which would contribute to the financial support of the community. Whatever the reasons, religious must at least recognize the subtle temptation posed by the exhortation to earn one's own living. Vowed obedience, which is concerned with the choices we make, demands a prayerful discernment regarding our motives for service. It asks that our choices proceed from values clearly based in the gospel. When we seek the Ministry Rooted in the Vows / 327 Spirit's direction for engagement in ministry, obedience makes it incumbent upon us to see that apostolic choices are not subjected to market values. The vowed life, then, is meant to root ministry in its transcendent and relational dimensions. And the concept of personal presence allows us to perceive the dynamic relationship which exists between ministry and the vows. While ministry refers primarily to the presence or sacramental em-bodiment of God's love and power in the world, it must also bear the marks of suffering love. To ~vitness to God's transforming presence requires that we undergo the sufferings inherent to bringing the kingdom of-God to a fuller realization. Ministry as Suffering Love Suffe.ring love is the h'allmark of Christian ministry. This kind of love demands some explanation due to the recent emphasis on personalism and fulfillment in religious life. Clarification is also needed because the word suffering is ordinarily thought in terms of pain of mind or body, or as bearing the consequences of some illness or wrongdoing. At times it even conjures up a kind of self-sacrifice typical of the past which is now seen as destructive to personal growth and holiness. As the term is used here, suffering refers to the capacity to be acted upon, to be changed or moved by another. Suffering love means that we allow persons and events to enter our life so as to shape the response we make. It implies a vulnerability which results from permitting our actions to be defined by what the°other requires. When our ministry takes its shape from the needs around us, it opens the door to true empathy and compassion in serving others. Person~il conflictl, adjustment, and denial will necessarily flow from this kind of loving, thereby contradicting a common misunderstanding that love always results in personal satisfaction. Suffering love is none other than the reverse side of self-giving love. Both aspects of love constitute the true nature of personalism. Otherwise, we have a pseudo-personalism which calls for the giving of our personal being but does not allow usto be transformed by our relations with others. For ministry, suffering love means that interdepen-denc~ and reciprocity will mark the experience of truly serving others. Those WhO minister must have the capacity both to receive and to give, the willingness to be shaped as well as to create. Suffering love can best be understood in the context of the mission of Jesus. Although we tend to equate Jesus' sufferings solely with the events surrounding the crucifixion, the gospels reveal that his sufferings resulted from the demands which love made upon him. His identification with the poor and outcasts, his contention with evil in its many forms, and his assistance to the sick and infirm are but a few examples of how Jesus allowed persons and events to elicit the kind of response needed. In a very real sense, then, his response was shaped by his ministry in that he allowed himself to be moved by the other, to take in the truth of each situation. As 328 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/3 a consequence, his suffering love became the sign of his vocation to es-tablish the kingdom, of his love for the Father and for all persons. The suffering involved in taking in the needs of others and responding ac-cordingly had i~ndeed the power to communicate love and to effect a new bond or communion with those to whom he ministered. Ultimately, it can be said that Jesus~ sufferings resulted from fidelity to the mission he had received. The vulnerability entailed in his being faithful exemplifies an actiye suffering rather than a patient submission to fate. In other words, Jesus suffered because of what he stood for, because of his message and deeds. For us, too, the witness entailed in ministry will be the personal vulnerability of suffering love. In this sense, the vows, particularly obe-dience, have implications for ministry. Of the three vows, obedience seems to exert little influence on our day-to-day service. Often it is relegated to community life or to situations which involve a change of ministry. It is possible, however, to view the vow of obedience from a much broader p.erspective, namely, as a participation in Jesus' vocation to suffering love. This notion finds support in The Epistle to the Hebrews where we find obedience and suffering linked together. Speaking of Jesus, the author notes: "Although he was Son, he learned to obey through suffering.'" (5:8). As the word "learned" indicates, Jesus" obedience was chara~:terized by personal growth, and this process of growth extended over his lifetime. Also connoted by growth in obedience through suffering is an active re-ception of all that his ministry entailed as well as an intensely personal struggle. As the temptations suggest, Jesus was no stranger to the human longing for control and power over his own destiny in that he wrestled with the possibility of adopting a messianic role which would effect a more "successful" ministry. The obedience of religious, like that of Jesus, consists in being faithful to our mission of service. It rests on a vision of faith which sees persons and events as indicators of the kind of response we ought to make in a given situation. To labor with Christ today requires that we undergo a similar e.xperience of suffering love, with its active reception of struggle and mis-understanding. Listening to the direction of the Spirit and enduring the t~nsions which are part and parcel of ministry are avenues which will open tis up to growth in faithful obedience. Because of the long-suffering in-volved in learning obedience, sporadic attempts will be less than adequate. Only a constant adherence to one's mission of service will suffice as a witness to this dimension of suffering love. As we engage in ministry, moreover, we can expect to deal with the temptation to dull the kingdom-yision. Perhaps one of the surest signs of participating in the mission of Jesus is that we experience a sense of being "stretched" beyond ourselves. If we are truly ministering we can expect the frustration and tension which accompanies all service, namely, the tension between the vision and the actuality, between the yet-to-be-fulfilled aspect of the kingdom and its Ministry Rooted in the Vows / 329 present degree of actualization. Because of our basic yearning for com-pletion and satisfaction, we find it difficult to live with brokenness, un-finished business, to be forever simply "on the way." At times we are tempted to adopt a "messianic complex," thereby relating to the world around us in god-like fashion. In so doing, we would seek to take things into our own hands, to manage and control their outcome, and to set up our own standards for judging the effectiveness of our actions. The vows help to remind us that we have been called to work for the extension of God's'reign of love, and that it is.God who gives the increase. Quite pointedly, suffering love brings us face-to-face with the deepest mystery of ministry, that of being servants of the kingdom. Because the ministry of suffering love requires a critical evaluation of our vulnerability and creative receptivity, the vow of poverty has an important role to play. Specifically, vowed poverty asks that we be open with respect to the form or expression which our ministry takes. It calls us out of any sense of self-sufficiency which might accompany a competency achieved. A sense of self-sufficiency in ministry can only prove to be distracting. Far too much energy can be expended in effortsto protect positions of real or imagined importance. This proclivity for being self-sufficient is most clearly evidenced in the resentment of newcomers for the threat they pose to our replace-ment. When. driven by a fear of loss, whether in status or in replacement, we begin to.operate at a low-risk level. When grasped by a sense of pos-sessiveness, we undertake only those activities which are considered safe, those which ensure prestige or eliminate competition. Vowed poverty, therefore, enjoins us to assess those sources of security which we may have erected for ourselves. It asks that subtle forms of self-worship such as success and prestige be unmasked for what they truly are. Because pos-sessiveness impedes the kind of vulnerability demanded by suffering love, religious poverty asks that we assume a posture of tentativeness with re-spect to the form which our ministry takes. Such tentativeness presupposes a willingness to let go of the security of the past in order to move into the future. In some cases, the risk involved in remaining flexible will result in a call to a new form of ministry or to a modified response in our present ministry. In any case, a radical trust and dependence upon the loving power of God is being called fourth in us as we search for the particular expression our ministry should assume. The vulnerability required~by suffering love also finds nourishment in vowed chastity. The "mystical" dimension of chast!ty, with its faith-decision to embrace the non-rational or mysterious aspect of life, exacts an acceptance of the fact that life can be neither totally controlled nor ultimately possessed. Of its very nature, vowed chastity leads to risk, to the unpredictable, and to the unknown. It beckons us to love with an openness which prevents intrusions and other forms of in-conveniences from being regarded as impingements upon our "projected plans" for service. In its "social" dimension, vowed chastity is also an 330 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/3 important asset for ministry. To the extent we have personally embraced a non-possessive stance towards life, we can expect to be non-threatening persons. Those in our presence should not find it necessary to draw upon their defenses, to play games or to put on false facades. By a simple and vulnerable life-style, religious can become disarming persons, those who grant others the freedom to be who they truly are. Consequently an at-mosphere can be created which maximizes the acceptance and contribution of personal gifts and talents, thus paving the road to ministry becoming a mutual venture between those who serve and those who are served. Ministry Rooted in Freedom Both views of ministry being addressed here--ministry as presence and ministry as suffering love--will necessarily engage us in the struggle to attain a greater degree of Christian freedom. And Jesus, as the paradigm of this freedom, offers us the model. When we meditate on the gospels we find that he ministered in a way that freed others, that empowered and enabled them. For example, Mary Magdalene and the Samaritan woman were en-abled to accept the seeds of new life which had come within their reach. In such cases, Jesus used his power to empower others. If we are t6 engage in a life-giving ministry, we must be freed from those obstacles which hinder this kind of service from occurring. The vowed life, understood in the sense of personal liberation, can be said to foster the freedom needed for ministry. First of all, how does the vow of poverty free us to serve in a life-giving manner? As we know, evangelical poverty does not center on either economic status or material deprivation. For apostolic religious, the vitality of one's service, with its attendant signs of peace and joy, has always been intrinsically linked to evangelical poverty. Poverty implies a freedom from ourselves (detachment) and a single-heartedness (attach-ment) for the service of God's kingdom. Stated in other words, poverty aims at a self-emptying so that we can devote everything that we are and have to others. By a voluntary limitation of possessions and other forms of self-sufficiency, a self-emptying ensues which places us in a situation of being poor, namely, of being ultimately dependent upon God's love and power. Inner freedom, which is a goal of vowed poverty, comes from placing our- trust in God rather than in our own resources. Its specific apostolic witness consists in having chosen to have less than we could .have attained. In so doing, we can demonstrate our belief that the kingdom of God is not dependent upon success in the areas of prestige, possessions or power. Vowed poverty, it is hoped, should also free religious to give a fuller response to Jesus" injunction: "You have received without paying; you must give without charge" (Mt 10:8). As we come to a greater awareness of our God-given gifts, we should be enabled to give of ourselves, in par-ticular, to share our talents, education, time and psychic energy. The freedom for ministry which vowed chastity promotes is thai of Ministry Rooted in the Vows / 331 non-possessiveness. In vowing chastity, we promise to eradicate the strong natural desire to restrict our love and concern to those claiming a priority through family or friendship. At times, we are even called to love without reciprocity. In such cases, we are asked to love those persons not in a position to respond to the love we offer, the fearful, the lonely, and thee voiceless minority in society. In a positive sense, then, vowed chastity facilitates the freedom needed to develop multirelationships, to move be-yond our personal propensity for exclusive and reciprocal relationships. Because all relationships are fragile, but specifically those demanded by vowed chastity, a freedom is needed to sustain them and keep them from deteriorating into avenues of self-aggrandizement. If our ministry is not to turn into a forum where unfulfilled personal needs are ventilated, we must be in touch with our own drives and needs. In fact, only when such personal ¯ needs as the desire to be the center of attention or the need to exercise control over the lives of others have been acknowledged, can we bracket them in order to address the needs of others. The basis for freedom in ministry also lies in vowed obedience. Often ministry is not experienced as life-giving because of our insensitivity to the gifts which others possess. All too easily we become oblivious to the po-tential of others and succumb to our own myopic view. Religious obe-dience, on the other hand, implies a freedom to experience the world around us so that persons and events can mediate the kind of response called for-in ministry. In this way, our ministry will be able to align itself more closely in both form and content to the spiritual, social and political needs of the people we serve. Vowed obedience, a pledge to carry out the mission of Jesus in a public manner, requires that our decisions be aug-mented by a faith-vision. As the gospels indicate, Jesus never did his "own thing," but sought to do his Father's will. In a special way, obedience can prevent us from acting out of impulse, mood or selfishness if we bring our choices to the authority which resides in the community for ratification. In so doing, obedience will direct the choices we make and free us to under-take with hope and courage the service which faith identifies with the will of God. Reciprocal Relation of Ministry and Vows Ministry and religious vows can be said to exert a reciprocal influence on each other. Engagement in ministry offers a challenge to the vowed life, and likewise, the vows provide for a deeper immersion into ministry. One way this reciprocal relation of vow and ministry is being experienced today is through the call to stewardship. As a matter of justice, Christians are being asked to exercise responsible stewardship regarding the resources of the world. The concept of stewardship, which is based on the idea that the world's resources do not belong absolutely to any individual, group, nation, or generation holds that resources should be viewed as gifts received and 332 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/3 entrusted to our use and care. As such, it calls for a sharing which stems from a consciousness of the common good and a concern that the poor can participate in these available resources. Although the notion of stewardship is directed mainly to the resources of food and energy, it can be extended to include a much broader sphere. Stewardship and its consequent sharing can be applied to all the gifts of life which have been entrusted to us, whether they be talents, time, or psychic energy. Certainly, a life-style which incorporates the right use of material resources as well as a voluntary limitation of material goods is a need in today's world. The concept of stewardship, then, can find a valuable source of support in vowed poverty. The question is: will religious place the "sharing and sparing" aspects of their life in relation to the wider social issue of justice? Put in other words, how can our sharing and sparing be increased to bring about a more sig-nificant social witness? Just as the social demands of ministry can contribute to a greater under-standing of the vowed life, so too, a lived experience of the vows can enhance our vision of ministry. Involvement in ministry, as we have noted, immerses us in the paradox of discipleship. And like any paradox, the tension involved is difficult to maintain. Although not a condition for dis-cipleship, nevertheless, the vows are gifts given to realize this end. In fact, the values symbolized in the commitment of the vows are those which are basic to ministry itself. They designate a life committed to the kingdom, and hence, call for a transformation from our old self, with its attitudes, ways of thinking and acting. When the vows are perceived in terms of the trans-formation required by discipleship, they can then be translated into a life-style consonant with the call of ministry. A truly powerful means of witnessing to God's transforming power in the world is offered to those called to love as celibates for the sake of the kingdom, to live in a simple and sharing fashion, and to be obedient to finding ways of serving others. Obedience in the Contemporary World Alan W. Jones Father Jones is an Episcopal priest, a director of the Center for Christian Spirituality; 175 9th Ave.; New York, NY 10011. His paper was delivered before a meeting of the Episcopal religious Order of the Holy Cross. l was beset with an absurdity in attempting to deal with the subject of obedience. For one thing, I am not particularly obedient, and yet I am going to attempt to tell religious what the structure of their obedience ought to be, vis-a-vis the world and the coming realities. What rescues me from these absurdities is the fact that what I am really doing is telling you religious what I want you to be for me, for the sake of the Church, for the sake of the world. Underneath my prescriptive approach there is, in reality, a cry for help. You religious, my fellow Christians, are desperately important to me. Forgive me, then, if I begin with an apparent insult used to describe religious life. "Monks are like bacteria. Bacteria live in communities, but by their increase in numbers they produce a by-product (as acid in milk) which ¯ inhibits their increase and eventually kills them. Now community living is a most economical way of living, and religion is the greatest money-spinner on earth; so monasteries get rich, and if the riches are not allowed to flow on to the poor, the community begins to stagnate and becomes, like a bacterial colony, a prey to its own by-product.''~ ICiaran O'Sabhaois, "Community in the Early Irish Church," in Cistercian Studies, Vol. X, 1975:1, p. 67. 333 334 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/3 Monks are like bacteria. All forms of community life have their dan-gers~ not merely the danger of becoming rich (that might seem remote today), but also the danger of becoming inward, self-regarding, and self-sustaining. I want to share with you some thoughts on modern monasticism, centering on the question of religious obedience. I will argue that Christian obedience is at the heart of Christian liberation and that obedience in the religious life is a symbol, for the sake of the Church, of the freedom we are all to enjoy as sons and daughters of God. Obedience is a Matter of Surrender: Saying "Yes!" to God To put it simply: obedience is a matter of surrender, submission, abandonment to Someone or Something. It is, first and foremost, a question of yielding, of saying "Yes!." It is, therefore, related closely to questions concerning our sense of identity (who we are) and the object of our worship (God, or the gods). That is to say, who we are will depend on the object of our surrender. When you "have finally said "Yes!" to Someone or Some-thing, then who you really are begins to emerge. So obedience is tied up with both problems of identity and objects of worship. It is also bound up with the search for intimacy, for union. Obedience is a matter of love. It is, therefore, of vital importance that we Christians be extremely sensitive and careful in matters of obedience. To say yes to the wrong things is to embark on a course of action which will infect the total life. Like the bacterial colony, the religious community in surrendering to anything less than God begins to suffocate, become paralyzed, and will eventually die. Christian obedience is right worship. Misplaced obedience is idolatry. And idolatry is the path of death. Our theme, then, is an enormously heavy and complex one which involves the very core of our being. Awareness, identity, intimacy, and worship: all these things are involved in our under-standing of obedience and will affect the way the Christian community is structured and organized. Obedience is the Means of Heightening Awareness I want to begin by looking at the structures of Christian obedience as such with no peculiar reference to those called to religious life. Christian obedience (listening to, being under, being formed by the Word) is the means of heightening Christian awareness, which in turn undermines our former sense of identity and turns who we thought we were upside down. The pattern is, obedience (i.e., listening), awareness--transformation of identity. Our mission in the world is determined by who we are and not only that, who we think we are. Our "novitiate" is the beginning at least of the undermining of our self-image and the reforging of a new identity. There are tremendous dangers because there are countless people who would like to tell us who we are. There are many, many forms, some very subtle, of psychological and spiritual tyrannies. The evil of misplaced religion in Obedience in the Contemporary Worm / 335 general is its tendency to tell people who they are and what to do. This is the tendency of those who talk about obedience. To be Obedient is to Listen to Someone: Christian obedience is to listen to the Word of God and to be formed by the Word that has been heard. This Word comes to us in the communal, convivial experience of scripture, of the eucharist, and of the community. It is a common obedience: not a private obedience. All other forms of obedience are derivative--religious obedience, obedience to the superiors, to bishops, to those in authority. There are peculiar dangers, however, for those who are committed tO a life of the discipline of prayer. Prayer continually relativizes our obedience. That is to say, prayer is always a movement towards a higher allegiance, a deeper obedience, a more intense "Yes!." As such, it puts a question mark beside all our lesser obediences. Taking as our model the religious, he is, ex professo, the person who prays and is therefore explicitly a symbol of the highest obedience. It is not that other Christians are not called to this obedience; it is that the monk symbolizes in a palpable way my obedience, the obedience evoked in all Christians. That is why I have need of the monk, why I have need of you, my brothers and sisters, to be true to your vow of obedience which is rooted in contemplation. Prayer and contemplation (how comforting they sound!), however, can seem to be subversive activities of the human spirit. They threaten our shallow allegiances, our easy "Yes!" to the merely penulti-mate things, to the things of this present age which are passing away. This is why the "no~,itiate" has to be reasonably rigorous because the monastic life brings with it the kind of "consciousness-raising" which only those who have been tested can tolerate. The pattern of monastic life, if it is not to degenerate into a sickening enslavement, is geared towards height-ened awareness: of God, of others, and of self; and heightened awareness always threatens and undermines our self-understanding. New insights challenge our present sense of identity. To be unaware of God, of others, and of ourselves is to deny any growth in identity and, in the end, such a denial turns everything sour, like the activity of bacteria in milk. To be unaware is to be unfree, to be enslaved. To be aware is to live with the mystery and terror of an ever-growing and developing identity. In critical and conflict situations th~ lesger obediences come into' play and we lapse into idolatry. The religious is peculiarly prone either to sur-render himself to the order, the community, the society, or to be trapped in the illusions of his own self-will. The .choice, for us too, seems to be slavery to the System or slavery to the unredeemed ego. We live in a time of conflict and where there is conflict, awareness is diminished. In a crisis, the pressure is there for us to caricature ourselves as well as our enemies. We may develop a strong sense of identity, but it is not based on awareness but on illusion, on a lesser obedience. This kind of caricaturing has be-deviled the movement towards genuine renewal. The labels we pin on our 336 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/3 brothers and sisters often reflect a low sense of awareness with a strong sense of identity.2 Obedience is a Matter of Identity Much of the discussion concerning "the state of the Church" and the monastic vows has centered on external things. We have tended to be technological rather than scientific. "It is technology--the technique of doing thingsnrather than science--the art of understanding things--that prevails.''3 One of the functions of the monastic vow of obedience vis-h-vis the modern world is to challenge us With this higher obedience, to stretch our self-understanding to the limit, to be a sign of contradiction against our impoverishment and diminishment as human beings. Monastic obedience challenges me to believe that there is more of me than I have dreamed: so much more. To do this, the monk's identity must be secure in the highest obedience. This involves a common life capable always of reforming itself, capable always of daring to raise and face ultimate questions. The monastic rule is the charter of freedom for those men and women who,for the sake of the worM, live constantly on the edge of the future. In theological terms, the monastic call is to be the people of the eschaton, for the sake of others. This requires a peculiar resilience which, in the end, cannot be a matter of personal worth or inner strength. It is a matter of faith. The monk or the nun, insofar as he or she is "successful," is an example of the triumph of grace over nature! The "bad" religious, the "bad" priest, is one who manages to combine a low sense of awareness with a strong sense of belonging. It is manifest in the classic monastic sin of acedia, "the sickness that destroyeth in the noonday." Dante talks somewhere of "the sullen, lazy smoke within the heart." The religious, the priest, in short, has missed the focus of his obedience; his awareness is diminished, and his identity, false. The highest obedience of which the contemplative life is the highest manifestation means that we give penultimate significance to everything and yet acknowledge that it is through these penultimate things that the Ultimate comes to us. This is freedom: hold to Christ and, for the rest, be totally uncommitted! We are obedient to superiors, to bishops, to the com-munity, for the.sake of the Church. These lesser obediences are the means by which, in a world of time and space, of partial insight, and distorted vision, we express our higher obedience. It is a constant rhythm of re-pentance, of metanoia, of turning, of critical self-examination. Benedict Clarkson writes, To some extent, we are all frightened to question our religious beliefs, because we are fearful that such questioning will take away from our lives all truth and meaning. Yet ~See Adam Curie's Mystics and Militants, Tavistock Publications, Ltd. (London, 1972). 31bid., p. 7. Obedience in the Contemporary World / 3:37 if our religious convictions are to become mature and intelligent, there must be, in this sphere as in all others of our lives, a critical self-examination. It is necessary for growth in faith. The more certain we are about our religious convictions, the freer we shall be to test them . The alternative to not dotibting our faith, not questioning our vocation, is immaturity. Research done by G. Allport showed that those who accepted their religion and their vocation too unrefiectingly and too uncritically tended to react in an unequally critical way to Iheir fellowmen and to political issues. When one's religion is unquestioned, one's values become institutionalized, exclusive and self-centered, and this can hinder growth in contemplation which is simple gaze.4 Obedience is a Matter of Saying "Yes!" to Others and to Ourselves The '~Yes!" we make to God in Christ makes possible our acceptance of ourselves and others, and fosters growth. Obedience, the saying of yes to the wholly Other who is God is a means of self-actualization. Maslow outlines twelve observable characteristics of people who are growing as human beings? Two of them are of particular interest here: an increase in problem centering and an increased identification with the human species. "Problem centering" is an unfortunate phrase because it suggests the kind of person who is always concerned about his problems. In fact it is meant to suggest quite the opposite. "Problem centered people" are those who have a mission, a problem outside of themselves. "They seem to see every-thing sub specie aeternitatis, in the widest frame of reference, and this imparts a certain bigness, a lack of pettiness or care for trivialities. It gives them a serenity and a freedom from worry over immediate concerns, and this makes their lives easier both for themselves and for all associated with " them.' '~ One hopes that this is a characteristic of Christian spirituality and a result springing from our common obedience. Maslow's second point is equally important: "increased identification with the human species." Obe-dience to Christ in common life liberates us and enables us freely to love our brothers and sisters. Maslow's word for this is GemeinschaftsgeJ~hl, which is this feeling for community, not only in the larger sense, but also the feeling that exists between two people. It is the sense of being at one with others. Pope Paul VI wrote, "The Church urges monks to be present to man-kind in a more profound way, namely in the heart of Christ. It expects them to share the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of this age."7 This is a marvelous rationale for the existence of religious in the moder~ world. Obedience becomes the way in which religious express this Gemein-schaftsgef~ hl. By virtue of their profession, religious orders contribute to 4"The Rule of St. Benedict and the Concept of Self-Actualization,'" in Cistercian Studies, Vol. X., 1975: 1, p. 24-25. 5Ibid., p. 24. ~lbid., p. 28. 7Quoted, ibid., p. 30. 338 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/3 the life of the world simply by being intensely present. The religious in his obedience to common life helps to keep human life human by the giving of hospitality. This hospitality is the ministry of presence. It is the creation of what Henri Nouwen calls "a free and friendly space.''8 The modern world is crying out for such space and you are the ones called to create it. The relentless reaffirmation of your obedience in liturgy, in order, in common life, creates this space and gives you, ahd countless others like you, the space to live and breathe. I know monks and nuns too well to idolize them, but the monastic, warts and all, points away from the success-oriented, utilitarian culture which is destroying me and tells me there is more, much more. The needs of the modern world demand more of the monk or nun, of the priest, of the Christian, than ever before. We can no longer hide our identity in community, in status, if we are to create a free and friendly space. The idea th~it the Christian life embodies a fixed tradition which is beyond question must go, along with a concept of religious obedience involving blind submission to a superior. This, however, is not the danger confronting the Church today. Nowwe need signs of a transcendent humanism. It is desperately needed and that is why I have hopes for a revival of the re-ligious life. Obedience is an Effective Sign of Self-Transcendence The ideal Christian community is modeled on self-giving obedience in the Trinity. God, ultimately, is the obedient One whose love is manifested in self-emptying. This trinitarian love which we are to embody is totally dependent and totally independent. In God there is no pathology of identity. Unlike us, he knows who he is. This trinitarian identity points to the mystery of being human. "My being me will enable you to be you; your beingyou will enable me to be me; not me without you; not you without me; perfect identity, perfect freedom.''9 This trinitarian pattern of identity revealed in self-giving is manifested in Christian obedience. It is a love which not only creates a free and friendly space, but also shapes and orders things. Obedience is a matter of order, too~for the sake of the world. Obedience is the key to the kind of co-herence and co-inherence without which it is impossible for a community or a people to survive in any meaningful way. The Christian life is a pioneer experiment in community living which provides the rest of humanity with models for the future. You religious hold out to me the promise of integrity. That is what love does. When someone really loves me, he holds out to me the promise of that integrity I feel that I have lost. Is this too much to lay on you? No, not if we remind ourselves that the key to our being and to our 8See Reaching Out, Doubleday (N.Y., 1975), p. 50. 9David Jenkins in The Passiontide Lectures (unpublished) at Lincoln Theological College, England, 1975. Obedience in the Contemporary World / 339 identity is liturgical. Worship is that which gives human life its focus, its purpose, its significance. We live by those things which offer us self-transcendence. The Christian is a sign of self-transcendence and, as such, is liturgically oriented, Worship is directly related to obedience, awareness, identity. Christian Obedience is a Matter of Right Worship The theme of worship as an obedient "Yes!" of surrender has been beautifully portrayed in Peter Shaffer's play, Equus.~° The play concerns a psychiatrist's struggle to "cure" a seventeen-year-old boy who had gouged out the eyes of six horses. The main theme is the mystery which pervades our understanding of man, a mystery that ultimately claims our obedience, demands our yes. When confronted by the boy and his particular pain and horror, the psychiatrist is confronted with his own mystery. For him a human being, to be human, has to have an object of worship, a focus of obedience. He knows himself to be a contemplative but only by way of being a voyeur. Classical Greece is his passion, but then only halfheart-edly, through glossy pictures and planned tours. He longs to be able to say to a companion: "Look! Life is only comprehensible through a thousand local gods. And not just ten old dead ones with names like Zeus--no, but living geniuses of Place and Person! And not just Greece but modern En-gland! Spirits of certain trees, certain curves of brick wall, certain chip shops, if you like, slate roofs--just as of certain frowns in people and slouches. I'd say to them--' Worship as many as you can see--and more will appear'!''1~ If we could see, life is full of wonder, is fraught with mystery. The negative side of Christian obedience, that is, saying no resolutely and often to other allegiances, provides the liberating detachment that worship and love demand. The more you contemplate, sit still, and see, the more the gods appear, present in your brothers and sisters, in glance and gesture: the gods of self-transcendence that give human life its significance. The psychiatrist's dilemma is that he can see these gods, he does make the connection, but this vision does not conform to what "normal" people call "normal." While there is a good aspect to the word "normal," it not only means the smile in a child's eyes, it 'qs also the dead stare in a million adults. It both sustains and kills~like a god. It is the Ordinary made beautiful: it is also the Average made lethal.''v' The Christian is a sign of ilbnormality, in contradiction to what the world calls normal. Christian obedience places the unnerving question mark be-side everything in the secular world. It reminds the psychiatrist that he ~°Equus: Shrivings, Athenaeum (N.Y., 1974). ~ffbid., p. 61. Vffbid., p. 63. ~140 / Review f or Religious, Volume 37, 1978/3 cannot comprehend the reality of a horse, let alone the mind of a child! The horse, Equus, stares at the doctor, "Do you really imagine you can account for Me? Totally, infallibly, inevitably account for Me? . . . Poor Doctor Dysart.''13 To "cure" the boy, to make him "normal," the psychiatrist has to take away his passion, his obedience, his object of worship. To save him there has to be a lobotomy of the soul. The boy worships horses, idolatrously and even demonically, but at least he worships something, he has made the great "Yes!." Every three weeks, at midnight, he would strip naked and gallop into the night on the back of his sweating and steaming god. It is this that unnerves the doctor and makes him hesitate to take away the boy's pain. Doctor Dysart tries to explain to his friend, the magistrate: "Look. to go through life and call it Yours--your life--you first have to get your own pain. Pain that's unique to you. You can't just dip into the common bin and say 'That's enough!' . . . He's done that. All right, he's sick. He's full of misery and fear. He was dangerous, and could be again, though I doubt it. But that boy has known a passion more ferocious than I have felt any second o~" my life. And let me tell you something: I envy it. ¯. Don't you see? That's the Accusation! That's what his stare has been saying to me all this time. 'At least I galloped! When did you?' ,,14 Without worship, without obedience, human life is impoverished and diminished. The Christian may risk being a little or even totally mad in terms of this world, but his "Yes!," his surrender, is a sign that he is willing to gallop with the Holy Spirit. Even the possessed boy lying prostrate ¯ before his slave-god, the Mighty Horse, points to a passion, an obedience, a commitment we can scarcely imagine. "I sit looking at pages of centaurs trampling the soil of Argos---and outside my window he is trying to become one, in a Hampshire field! For, me, this points to the heart of Christian obedience in the modern world. The commitment of the Christian, no matter how much he fails, is an effective sign of the seriousness of the gospel, of its radical passion, its ultimacy, its finality. I need you to be--simply be--for my sake, as reminder of all those things in life which tell me that I am more than I think I am. Some may be disappointed with me for not being more specific regarding Christian obedience. To tell the truth, I simply cannot prescribe set patterns of obedience for anyone else. I am convinced, however, that once the primary allegiance is at least seen, then nurtured and developed day by day, all these other things fall into place. A loving look at God, steadily and daily, helps me to seek the good of the whole community, to "obey" as an act of love--to say "Yes!" to my brothers and sisters because you too are struggling to make the great "Yes!" to God. talbid., p. 74. l~lbid., p. 80. ~51bid., p. 81. Obedience in the Contemporary World / 341 Obedience is unavoidable. Enslavement to one god or another is in-. evitable. Like love, obedience is part of that which constitutes, forms, shapes us as human beings. Augustine says, in effect, "Love by all means, but take care what you love." I would add: You must obey, but take care what you obey. Only the gospel offers that service which is perfect freedom. The obedience of the Christian serves the wider community by wit-nessing to both the revolutionary character of Christian obedience and the provisional character of all those other things which demand our allegiance. The Christian is a trafficker in mystery. The so-called "unnatural" life of the monk invites me to dig deeper into the abyss within myself. Christian Obedience is a Movement in the Holy Spirit Two recent books, both by religious, give a positive rationale for Chris-tian obedience which to me is the most important of the three vows. Henri Nouwen does it indirectly in outlining three movements in the spiritual life.I~ The first movement is from loneliness to solitude where a suffocating loneliness is transfigured by one'~ "Yes!" into a receptive solitude. The second movement is from hostility to hospitality. Obedience again is the key to our being free enough to create a "free and friendly space" for others. The final movement is from illusion to prayer. This, in ~eality, is the hardest area of obedience. It is at this deep point thatChristian community is forged. The marks, then, of our obedience are solitude, conviviality, and con templation. The second book is by the Mirfield father,~7 Harry Williams, called Poverty, Chastity, and Obedience.~8 He writes, "Fundamentally, obedi-ence consists of discovering what you most truly and deeply are, or, better, what you have it in you to be, and of being loyal to the insight you have thus received. Such loyalty,., may sometimes, perhaps of.ten, involve a degree of submission to some external auth~ority or other. But its root is not submission to anything external, it is being true to yourself."'~9 Williams uses the example of the creative artist as the most eloquent instance of obedience. It is saying "Yes!" to the vision. Obedience, then, is obedience to one's true. self, and who I am, in the end, is a matter of faith. Williams offers "a test we can apply to anything which demands our obedience. Is the authority demanding obedience only external, nothing more than the imposition upon myself of an alien will. ? The external authority . . . may turn out to be an apparatus, inevitably (since human beings are fallible) no more than a rough and ready 160p. cit. ~TReference is to another Anglican religious order, the Community of the Resurrection [editor|. ~SMitchell Beazley, London, 1975. ~Slbid., p. 83. 349 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/3 apparatus, to enable people to be obedient to themselves by making pos-sible that give and take between the self and others which man needs because he is a social animal."z° Is the higher obedience what matters in the end because we can only be true to ourselves insofar as we are true to that which is greater than ourselves? "My 'me' is God, nor do I know my selfhood save in him," wrote St. Catherine of Genoa.21 For the real me to emerge there has to be a free surrender to the transcendent. It is in obe-dience that I know that there is more to me than my self-regarding ego. Christian obedience is the denial of anthropological reductionism. I am more than my moods, my emotions, my preferences. Obedience is, Finally, a Matter of Love Poverty, Chastity, and Obedience, these three remain, and the greatest of them is obedience. Christian obedience is the only form of surrender which secures our true liberty. It is, therefore, vital that we keep our obedience Christian, because obedience unfocused and unexamined is the harbinger of demonic tyranny. I call upon you, my brothers and sisters, to be signs of a pioneering, obedient humanity in the decades ahead. The Church, the world, needs men and women who enflesh the final obedience, who, by their very profession, are those who create the open, free, and friendly space for the dying, poor and cramped children of the earth. Christian obedience in the modern world is finally a matter of love--a wild, mad kind of love in a world gone mad. It brings with it a self-authenticating authority which affirms the beautiful and strange dogma of freedom in surrender, of resurrection in death, of joy in self-offering. Perhaps I may be forgiven, so close to our Bicentennial, to twist the words of that unpleasant patriot, Patrick Henry: "Give me liberty or give me death!" To Christians in the modern world, I say, "Give me liberty and give me death!" This is the life-bearing power which comes to those who have died, who have been buried with Christ, and raised with him to life everlasting. We follow the One who was obedient, the One who said "Yes!." "The Son of God, Christ Jesus, proclaimed among you by us ¯ . . was never a blend of yes and no. With him, it was, and is, yes. He is the yes pronounced upon God's promises, every one of them. That is why, when we give glory to God, it is through Christ Jesus that we say 'Amen' " (2 Co 1:19-20). Finally, this self-emptying yes is the prelude to being filled. Christian obedience is a miracle of grace. Like the priest in Bernanos' Diary of a Country Priest, we are saved in surrender. He discovered the miracle of the empty hands, the wonder of being able to give to others what we ourselves do not possess. The yes Of our emptiness and of our agony is God's oppor-tunity, the supreme source of the healing and redeeming power of love. ~°lbid., p. 93-4. 21Quoted by Williams, ibid., p. 98. The Annual Dialogue With the Major Superior Richard P. Vaughan, S.J. Father Vaughan, as a former provincial in his region, has had ample experience with the annual dialogue. Presently he is engaged.in counseling and psychotherapy with priests and sisters, and teaches psychology at Loyola-Marymount University; 7101 W. 80th St.; Los Angeles, CA 90045. A yearly dialogue with the provincial or major superior is an accepted practice among most religious. How this dialogue is conducted and the attitude of the participants frequently determines its value both to the provincial and the individual member. It can be a formality, made out of a sense of duty, and consequently with little fruit, or it can be a most useful means of bringing about spiritual and apostolic renewal within both an individual and a congregation. Changing Role of the Provincial During the past decade the nature° of the provincial's position has changed. Previously the provincial was primarily the chief administrative officer of a unit called a province; today he or she is expected to demon-strate greater leadership in both temporal and spiritual affairs, in addition to handling province business. The emphasis is more on the welfare of individual members and communities and less upon paper work and in-stitutions. In many instances a large portion of the administration has been delegated to others so as to give the provincial more time to devote to the members and to programs which affect their lives. Vatican II has called upon provincials to exercise leadership in bringing 343 344 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/3 about a renewal within their congregations.1 If provincials are to be effec-tive in responding to this call, they must understand the present state of their provinces. Such understanding can best come through a personal knowledge of the individual members and where they stand in their own lives and on issues and problems confronting the congregation. The major superior who knows each member in a personal way is certainly in a better position to decide on measures to improve the state of a province. Aim of the Dialogue Not infrequently the annual dialogue is the sole opportunity a provincial has to meet with and gain an understanding of each member of his province. For this reason it is most important that the interview be conducted in such a way as to meet both the needs of the provincial and those of the individual member. Effective leadership and the welfare of the province often depend upon its success. In addition to helping the major superior govern the province in a per-sonal manner, the dialogue also serves as an opportunity for each member to receive something in the way of guidance and direction. For those who do not have a spiritual director, this may be one's only occasion to evaluate his or her progress in the apostolic and spiritual life, and to plan strategies for improvement. And, after participating in many similar interviews throughout the province, the provincial is in a unique position to offer counsel according to the spirit of his or her congregation. Finally, the annual dialogue can be most useful in effecting renewal within a local community. Information gathered from all the members of a ¯ given community allows the provincial to understand that community in a unique way and affords him the opportunity to deal with any difficulty that may be brought to his attention either through the local superior or through his meetings with the members of the community. The Kind of Information Needed What kind of knowledge does the provincial or major superior need so as to exercise the leadership expected of him today? First of all, he should know each member of the province on a personal basis, or at least a significant portion of the membership if the province is large. He needs to know how each feels about himself and his life: how he gets along in the local community; how he relates to others in the congregation and outside of it and how he thinks he is doing in his apostolic work. Most of all, the provincial needs to know how each member relates to God, the level of his faith and commitment, and the depth of his spiritual life. The accumulation of such data from interviews with most of the members in the province allows the major superior to make an accurate estimate of where the prov- 1The Documents of Vatican H. Walter M. Abbott, S.J. (Ed.). America Press, 1966, pp. 469-470. The Annual Dialogue With the Major Superior / 345 ince stands and then settle upon the directions his leadership should take. Without this knowledge he may well decide upon a course of action which the members are incapable of following. Moreover, this type of information is essential for any guidance he might offer individuals and local commu-nities as a consequence of the visitation. Approaches The approach taken by a member often determines whether the major superior finds the dialogue profitable. As previously mentioned, some come to him out of a sense of duty. They chat about inconsequentials in a friendly manner, air a complaint or two, assure the provincial that everything is going well, and depart, all in a matter of a few minutes. Obviously such an approach is of little value to either participant, since the purpose of the dialogue is never realized. The provincial comes to no better understanding of the member as a person and a religious under vows, and the member receives no guidance. The member who wishes to help the provincial fulfill his leadership role and at the same time profit from his guidance can take either of two ap-proaches: he can attempt to be an objective historian or he can be an involved autobiographer,z If he chooses to be an historian, he will certainly offer the provincial valuable data which can be used in governing, but the provincial will most probably never come to know him on a personal basis. On the other hand, if he chooses to be an autobiographer, he offers the provincial needed information both about the province and about himself, and at the same time, he affords the provincial the opportunity to know him as a person and as a Christian under vows, following the charism and spirit of his community. Historian The historian centers his attention on past events which he tries to describe in an accurate and objective way. He makes every effort not to allow personal reflections and involvement to color these events. The member who takes the historical approach usually reports a number of significant--and sometimes not so significant--happenings in his life and that of his community since the last dialogue. Because he distances himself from them in his narrative, the provincial often does not come to a better understanding of him as a person. Rather he gets the impression that the member is standing outside of himself as he relates what has happened in his apostolic work, his i:ommunity life and his prayer. There is little emotional involvement. He may even give the impression that any problem he presents is not his own but someone else's. In such an approach, it sometimes happens that the dialogue becomes a monologue with the member moving rapidly from one topic to the next 2Egan, Gerard, Face to Face. Brooks/Cole, Monterey, CA, 1973, pp. 45-46. 346 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/3 and giving the superior little or no time to react to what has been said until the end--and by that time so many topics have been covered that the superior has either forgotten them or does not know where to begin. Should the superior try to break into the flow of the narrative, he meets with evident signs of displeasure. The message comes across loud and clear: "Take account of what I have to say about the community and our work but keep your distance from me." While such a dialogue does help in later decision making, at least to a degree, it does not contribute to that pool of information the provincial needs if he is to understand where the majority of the members of the congregation stand in their personal and spiritual lives, which is often an important factoi" in future planning. Autobiographer At the other end of the continuum of those engaged in dialogue is the approach of the autobiographer. Here the member gives an account of his own personal experiences and spiritual odyssey. Frequently he does not give an historical narrative in logical sequence or a series of difficulties according to priorities, but rather tries to describe himself as he is now through what has happened during the past year. The focus of attention is on himself rather than on past events. He attempts to have the superior understand who he is at this moment as a person, a Christian, a religious with vows, and a member of a congregation with its own charism and spirit. He relates facts about himself, chosen principally to achieve this end. If he presents a problem or difficulty, he indicates how he personally is reacting to it. He states clearly his own feelings and attitudes, even though the problem involves something outside of himself, such as a complaint about the way a superior is handling another member of the community. He may pass over points which on the surface appear important but, as he sees them, add nothing to the picture he is trying to paint of himself. In the process of talking about himself, the member will most probably also offer observations about the local community, the province and the congrega-tion, all of which will be a help to the major superior both in exercising leadership in the province and in directing the individual involved in the dialogue. The autobiographical approach means lowering defenses and exposing oneself as one actually is at the moment. Such a process calls for humility and risk-taking. In self-disclosure one is never sure what he will discover about himself or how the listener will react to what he hears. Sources of Anxiety Built into the psyche of each of us is a reluctance to talk freely about personal matters, especially to one we would not consider a close friend. As we approach the annual dialogue with the major superior, some knowledge about the sources of this reluctance can be helpful in handling our un-easiness and anxiety. The Annual Dialogue With the Major Superior / 347 Most of us reject some part of ourselves. We tend to block out of consciousness or to hide what we dislike about ourselves. The prospect of having to confront and talk about these unaccepted personal characteristics makes us uneasy. ,The thought of letting down the mask and revealing ourselves just as we are causes embarrassment. As a consequence, most, to some degree, have to struggle .to be fully open and forthright as they progress through the diaioguel A certain amount of embarrassment is simply a part of the human condition, but if it reaches the state where talking about ourselves becomes most~difficult, then we should ask the question: "Am I living behind a mask and playing a role much of the time so as to hide what I am both from myself and from others?" If the answer is affirmative, then We would do well to indicate this feeling to the provincial and discuss it with him. Private Self We all have a private and a public "self.'" The private self is the one we keep to ourselves, or perhaps reveal to one or two close friends: the public self we show to others. In the annual dialogue, we are asked to manifest the private self---at least to some degree. A reluctance to do so is natural. Our relationship with God, how we feel about ourselves and others in the community and, even more so, our own limitations are highly personal concerns. They are hardly topics that we are apt to discuss in a social gathering. It can be helpful to reflect upon the position of the major superior ¯ and how he will use what is discussed to fulfill the ends of his office. It is well, too, to bear in mind that what is discussed actually remains a part of the private self since it must be treated as confidential matter. The superior is not free to divulge it to any other person. In our culture, seeking help from another is often considered a sign of weakness.3 We should be able to solve our own problems and not depend upon others. The mature person should be able to stand on his own two feet, handle his own affairs. If he has a difficulty, he should look for its causes and then seek a solution. If there is no evident solution, he should wait it out, suffering in silence. This attitude is especially prevalent among men. The contemporary masculine image calls for a man to be strong, independent, and reserved in expressing his feelings to others. All of these factors militate against speaking with ease about oneself to a major superior in the hope of getting his guidance. It is not uncommon for a religious to say to himself: "I have been able to handle my difficulties in the past by myself. Why bother the superior now?" As a consequence he passes over matters that should be discussed and, in this event, one of the purposes of the dialogue is lost. As much as we like to think that we are not dependent on others, however, if we stop to reflect, it will become apparent that each of us is 3Jourard, Sidney M., The Transparent Self. Van Nostrand, New York, 1971, p. 133. 34~1 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/3 dependent upon a number of people. It all goes with being "social ani-mals." We need and depend upon those with whom we live and work. Seeking direction from a concerned person is not a sign of weakness but wisdom. It acknowledges that we all need counsel, that no one is totally self-sufficient. The dialogue can sometimes produce a feeling of closeness toward the superior. For some, such a feeling can be threatening. In the past, they have managed to keep a distance between themselves and others. When some-one tries to get to know them on a deeper level, they become uncomfortable and move back from the developing relationship. As such a person engages in the annual dialogue with the superior, the pressure of this feeling can deter frankness and openness. It may even demand an almost heroic cour-age on his part not to yield to the temptation to be absent at the time of the visitation. Fear of Rejection On the other side of the coin is the fear of rejection.4 The individual is never sure how the superior will react to what he has to say. There is always the possibility that he or she will be judgmental and condemning. The superior may listen with genuine concern and with a desire to help but when the dialogue is over there is a lingering question in the member's mind: "Does he respect me as much as he did before?" If the member's level of self-esteem is low, this nagging doubt can be most painful. Most major superiors have the duty of approving candidates for pro-fession and ordination, and, in some congregations, for positions of au-thority. An awareness of this fact can limit open discussion on the part of the member, for an individual usually will not reveal anything about himself which will endanger his advancement. It is not uncommon, then, for one to give the superior what he thinks the superior wants to hear, and, of course, the dialogue is reduced to game-playing. If the annual dialogue is to achieve its purpose, it is up to the superior to assure the individual that what he says will not be used against him in any way, and then be scrupulous in effec-tuating this assurance. Insight and Change Often the annual dialogue with our provincial can be a way of com-municating with ourselves, getting in touch with how we really feel. It can be a source of new knowledge and insight. As we talk about ourselves, we become more aware of our attitudes, our values, how we feel about a variety of issues and problems.5 For some this opportunity is welcomed enthusiastically; for others it is dreaded--for on such a journey we never know what we will discover. If it brings forth affirming information, self- 4Egan, ibid., pp. 55-56. 5ldern, pp. 53-54. The Annual Dialogue With the Major Superior / 349 esteem is enhanced; if it reveals previously unknown negative qualities, we are forced to look at something that we may find difficult to accept. Not infrequently new self-knowledge calls for change within ourselves and in our lives. Change is never easy. It can place demands on us that we are unwilling to meet, at least at this particular time. As we prepare for the annual dialogue, most of us are aware that the outcome may call for reform. It is this prospect that causes us sometimes to approach the dialogue as an ordeal rather than an opportunity for personal and spiritual growth. Yet, if properly made, the annual dialogue with the major superior can be a means of helping that superior fulfill his role as the leader of the congregation in that region and, at the same time, an opportunity for the member to receive valuable guidance. Whether these aims are attained frequently depends upon the approach taken by the participants, as well as by their openness. Understanding each member in the province on a per-sonal level allows the provincial to determine the state of the province and then to formulate directions which will lead to spiritual renewal and greater apostolic effectiveness for the province, the local community and the in-dividual who has engaged in the dialogue. A Conversation at Final Profession We talked-- First, he ~poke to me: a Word in the a Word in the a Word in the a Word in the Then, he ~poke to me: a Word in the a Word in the a Word in. the a Word in the Love of my family, Pain of growing up, Laughter among childhood friends, Tears at leaving home. Hope of the man 1'11 be, Fear of the silence I've felt, Strength of my brothers and friends, Weakness of the people I serve. Finally, he spoke to me: a Word in the Flesh of a man called Christ, a Word in the Heart touching, challenging, changing, a Word in the Call to live like Him, a Word in the Answer of death and life. Standingspeechless before God, 1 live: all of my days. Thomas J. Burke, O.SS.T. Trinity House 949 Gorsuch Ave. Baltimore, MD 21218 The Charism of the Community: Does It Really Make a Difference? Charles E, Bouchard, O.P. Brother Bouchard is a member of St. Rose Priory, the Dominican Community of Aquinas Institute; 2570 Asbury Rd.; Dubuque, IA 52001. His last article, "Journey of Faith . . . appeared in the July, 1977 issue (p. 592). The whole question of what a commu.nity's charism means was brought to my attention one day while I was teaching a group of high school juniors. I was trying to convince them that the Dominicans had a particular character, a way of doing things, and that consequently their education in a Dominican high school would be in some way different from that in a Jesuit or a Benedictine high school. They were slightly less than convinced. Even though I knew that the spirit of my order was special and different from the Jesuit spirit, it was very difficult to convey that mixture of feelings, experiences and training that made me a Dominican. Then I began to wonder if indeed it really made any difference. Should we attempt to dif-ferentiate ourselves from other religious communities in our ministries? Was our "charism" really worth dwelling upon? My formation placed great emphasis on what is unique to Dominicans: what we are about, who we are, why we exist. It seemed to me that it would be wasteful to put all that aside when I entered the classroom, but I didn't know how I could convey what had been impressed upon me in formation and what had initially led me to commit myself to the Dominican ideal. The document on the renewal of religious life calls members of religious communities to a "constant return to the sources of the whole of Christian life and to the primitive inspiration of the institutes, and their adaptation to 35o The Charism of the Community / 351 the changed conditions of our times" (Perfectae Caritatis, 2). Religious, like all Christians, must constantly re-evaluate their lives in the light of the gospel. They must also identify their particular charism if they are to be effective in their ministry. Perhaps a look at the New Testament roots of these charisms can help us more clearly discern our role today and our mandate for the future. What Are Charisms? The word charism comes from a Greek word meaning "a favor, an expression of kindness or a gift; a special manifestation of the divine presence." A charism is a gift, an ability, a talent, an inclination to be of service in a particular way. John Carroll Futrell, in an excellent article which appeared a few years ago in The Way, "Discovering the Founder's Charism," says that a charism is "simply a graced way of seeing and of following Jesus for the service of the whole Church, which can cease to exist if and when this vision and this service cease to be a true good for the Church.''1 These charisms are gifts of the Spirit to assure the growt.h of Christ's body despite our sinful and incomplete natures. They cannot be earned or demanded of God, but are nevertheless everywhere present and are often readily recognizable by the community. Jesus hinted at this when he said, "By their fruits you shall know them." The first gifts to the early Church were made known at Pentecost in a passage familiar to all of us: And suddenly there came from the sky a noise like that of a strong driving wind, which filled the whole house where they were sitting. And there appeared to them tongues like flames of fire dispersed among them and resting on each one. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit, and began to talk in other tongues and the Spirit gave them utterartce. Ac 2:2-5 (emphasis added). Later, Peter tries to explain the phenomenon and quotes the old Tes-tament: "I foresaw that the presence of the Lord would be with me al-ways." Three things are apparent in this event: first, the Spirit is given to all (~'each one"); secondly, the Spirit empowered them to do something ("gave them utterance"); and thirdly, as Peter makes clear, it is a sign. of a continuing event, the abiding presence of the Lord. Later, St. Paul expounds on the gifts of the Spirit that were first made present at Pentecost with the symbolic flames when he writes to the Church in Rome: Just as each of our bodies has several parts and each part has a separate function, so all of us, in union with Christ, form one body, and as parts of it we belong to each other. Our gifts differ according to the grace given to us. If your gift is prophecy, then 1John Carroll Futrell, "Discovering the Founder's Charism," The Way Supplement 14 (Autumn 1971): p. 63. 359 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/3 use it as your faith suggests; if administration, then use it for administration; if teaching, then use it for teaching. Let the preachers deliver sermons, the almsgivers give freely, the officials be diligent, and those who do works of mercy do them cheerfully. Rm 12:4-8. While Paul speaks here about very specific gifts which were evident in the early Church, we can obviously extend this to our time. We see these and many more gifts manifested today. Hans Kfing lists three major categories of charisms: l) those of preaching (which include teaching); 2) those of service; 3) those of leadership,z Just as Jesus Christ in his physical body on earth preached, taught, fed the hungry, healed, and forgave, the Church is called upon from its be-ginnings, and is empowe.red by the Spirit which came initially at Pentecost and continues to be present, to continue those works which Jesus did. What Does Jesus' Life on Earth Call Us to Do? An examination of the New Testament reveals Jesus ministering in diverse ways. His whole life was an example for us and the Church to follow. Jesus healed. Perhaps we could cite the healing of the lepers as just one example of his healing (Lk 5:12ff). One healing incident stands out as representative of Jesus' attitude toward those who came to him: A leper comes and says, 'qf you want to, you can cure me." Jesus responds: ~'Of course I want to! Be healed!" (Mk 1:40). Here we find a warm example of Jesus' willingness to cure and relieve suffering. The Church continues that work today in health care and in charismatic and sacramental healing. Jesus preached and taught. Besides the numerous examples we could glean from the parables which served to reveal the Father to those who followed him, Jesus revealed the New Covenant through his preaching of the beatitudes (Mr 5: lff). ~'Rejoice and be glad for your reward will be great in'heaven" signified an entirely new message: there was no need to despair because of present circumstances; a far greater destiny had been won for man by Christ. Preaching remains a primary mission of the Church, both in the in-stitutionalized sense and in the witness to which we are all called. We here consider preaching and teaching together because of their essential simi-larity. Teaching and preaching do not seem to have been distinguished as we know them !oday until after the sixteenth century when a secular society be.gan to emerge. In teaching, Jesus sought to expand the message he preached through his use of parables and his occasional use of more dramatic actions such as the cleansing of the temple. Although preaching is now normally considered to be the proclamation of God's word by those specifically commissioned ZHans K~ing, The Church. (New York: Doubleday and Co., Image Books, 1976), p. 242. The Charism of the Community / 353 to do so, it is very closely related to Christian witness, which is the vocation of every Christian. Preaching, if we consider it in its broadest sense, need not be limited to a solely liturgical setting. Christians, in teaching and witnessing to their faith through Christian lives, are constantly called upon to proclaim the message of salvation. Jesus prayed. Besides the obvious example of his instruction of the Lord's prayer which gave the apostles a new view of God as Father and enabled them to address him as such in prayer, Jesus showed us the im-portance of solitary and petitionary prayer in his agony in the garden (Mk 14:33) and in his temptations in the desert. The Church has followed this call to prayer through its contemplative religious communities, through the Liturgy of the Hours, and through its many exhortations to prayer in private and in a liturgical setting. The Prayer of the Faithful in the Liturgy of the Eucharist is a good example of this emphasis. Finally, Jesus fed the hungry. Sensitive to the crowds that had been following him without food, Jesus multiplied the loaves and fishes and thus provided for this material need (Mk 6:37ff). The Wedding Feast at Cana provides a similar example of his concern for the needs of those with whom he associated. Jesus' visits to the homes of Zacchaeus and Mary Magdalene give us examples of his concern for the human need for com-panignship and affirmation. The Church, as the Body of Christ extended in time and space, con-tinues all these works today. Spreading the Good News, it imitates and follows Christ as it heals, preaches, teaches, feeds and prays. Special abilities (charisma) are given in each of these areas to the members of the Body, and since each is indispensable to the whole, we have an essential unity. Some feed; others teach (study); some have special care for prayer or healing. Religious communities are usually dedicated to one or other of these specific tasks, and we can easily think of at least one religious com-munity that is primarily concerned with each of these duties of the Church. The Alexian Brothers, for example, are specially dedicated to health care, and in that way carry on Christ's work of healing and extend his concern for the sick. Charisms and Religious Life Today, our identity as religious is in question. We have come through a traumatic period during which most of the formhl structures which had supported and signified our lives have melted away, leaving us, at best, with the job of reconstructing our purpose and place in the world, and, at worst, with little idea of which way to turn. Confusion has resulted for older members of our communities who can no longer find the life they once lived; new members entering often find a diffuse selection of life-styles and interpretations to choose from and no longer have a sure external formula after which to pattern their lives. 354 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/3 I believe, however, that the matter of the place and function of religious life in the world today is somewhat simplified if we recall the idea of charism and the unity of the body of Christ. These charisms are present in the Church, are its lifeblood, and are God's assurance that the Church will be able to continue its work and be a vehicle of salvation. If we see each religious community as a communal realization of one of these charisms, we can see much more clearly what the goal and purpose of that religious community is and what direction.it should take today. Although all of us have the gospel as primary goal, it is important for us to attempt to isolate our community's charism and determine to what extent it is an expression of one of these works of Christ and to what degree it affects our ministry. If Benedictines, for example, can be considered to be primarily an extension of Christ's work of prayer, isn't it reasonable tO assume that a Benedictine school will have a different thrust in spirit than one would expect to find in a Jesuit school whose charism may be more apostolic or a Dominican school where study and "truth" are high values among the religious faculty? If we believe that the Spirit of our founder remains valid and vital, I think we need to evaluate to what extent we live that spirit in our work. In fact, although we must remember the essential unity of the Body of which we are all parts, I think we would be doing the Church a great disservice by losing sight of the particular gifts which our communities seek to foster. The color and diversity that must be a part of the universal Church are greatly enhanced by a realization of the varied ministries and gifts that are present within it. If the charism of the Benedictines is one of prayer and work for the sake of the gospel, then that spirit should be cultivated and held high as one Christian ideal among many others. Religious communities can be of great service to the Church by living their calls to the full and providing many strong examples for others to emulate. None of these orders offers the complete spirit of Christianity, but all together, with the thousands of personalities and talents they represent, symbolize the many-faceted but unified body of Christ. Isolating a community's charism is only half the problem, however. I may be well aware of what it means to be a Dominican, that my call is to preaching and a communal life centered around contemplation and apos-tolate, but how do I communicate that to a group of high school students or to the parish I serve? How do I offer the charismatic elements of my life to the Church at large? How do I convey the vitality that I, as a Benedictine monk or nun, derive from Ora et Labora? How do I express all that the Jesuit motto, Ad majorem Dei gloriam, means to me as a Jesuit? This is a question that is not easily answered, but I would propose a few practical suggestions: 1) First of all, it is necessary to discover one's charism. What was my community founded to do? What was the founder's original intention? How The Charism of the Community / 355 does that translate into the United States in the twentieth century? Are there some parts of my community's charism that no longer remain valid today? (Again, Futrell's article is particularly helpful here.) 2) How does this original insight affect what I do today? If the Dominicans, for example, were founded to combat error in the thirteenth century, is there something in this for me as a high school or college teacher today? Certainly I'm not going to adopt an inquisitorial teaching method. But might the Dominican pursuit of truth lead me to a particularly inquiring stance with regard to my teaching? 3) Am I in my religious community because my talents, interests and personality mesh with the thrust of my community? If so, it is likely that just my personality says volumes about what my religious community is all about. Often the peaceful feeling of prayerfulness that one finds in a mon-astery is due primarily to the fact that most of the monks exude that peace and prayerfulness. Not many extremely boisterous, apostolicaily oriented people would find monastic life to their liking. Similarly, Dominicans are often seen as academic and erudite. One who despises the discipline of study would probably not find the Dominican life palatable. 4) Besides the natural aspects of my personality, how do ! attempt to cultivate consciously the elements of my community's calling into my life? I may be naturally talkative and curious, but those characteristics alone don't make me a Dominican. Discipline in study and a search for truth through prayer and contemplation must accompany any personality char-acteristics that may incline me toward Dominican life initially. The purpose of such an examination and re-emphasis of our purpose and' character is not to separate or divide us. It is simply a recognition that many different parts are necessary to the body of Christ, and that they must work together well. We are in an age of intense self-awareness when every advertisement, book and program compels us to develop ourselves fully and to eliminate, as one author puts it, our "erroneous zones," or those parts of us which function least effectively, to the detriment of our whole selves. Religious communities should do no less. We must take what is strongest in our traditions and build on that, remembering our inter-dependence and ultimate membership in Christ's body. John Futrell states the need well when he says: "What religious communities are called to do in the renewal of their spirit and the adaptation of their life to the signs of the times is really to re-found themselves. They are called to a re-founding because they must communally discern the radically new ways of incar-nating this charism in life and action to which the Holy Spirit, speaking in events, calls them in the world today."''~ Religious charisms do make a difference. They are signs of the presence of the Spirit in our midst and of the rich variety with which he equips the Body of Christ for life and mission. They mutually reinforce one another, aFutrell, idem, p. 70. $56 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/3 and, together, make the Church both a powerful force for good and a home for an endless variety of people. Religious communities don't do anything different from the rest of the Church, but they should be leaders and ¯ examples. Clearly, if we are part of a religious community that is involved in one of these works which Christ wished to be continued, we should constantly renew our efforts to identify and intensify those works. If we can isolate our community's particular calling, identify in our-selves those inherent traits that suit us to that community and then try to develop our natural talents along the lines of the community's identity, I believe we will have gone far toward unifying and strengthening our com-munity's witness. Throughout history one of the primary tasks of religious life has been that of witness--witness to one of those works of Christ which I pointed out earlier. Whether as a Little Brother of the Poor feeding, as a School Sister of Notre Dame teaching, as a Dominican preaching, as a Benedictine praying, or as a Sister of Mercy healing, we witness to the love of Christ and to the abiding presence of the Spirit in the world. The very fact that we exist to preach, teach, pray, heal and feed can be an invaluable sign to the world that Christ is still with us. But signs must be clear and easily readable. By examining our lives and our callings we can clarify that sign which our ministry and lives are and make them point more effectively to the Kingdom which we have been promised and which has already begun. Now Available As Reprint An apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice by Max Oliva, S.J. Price: $.50 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Bivd, St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Impassioned Presence: Religious Life and Leisure Janie Gustafson, C.S.J. As have so many religious, Sister Janie has reverted to her given name. When last her work appeared in these pages, "The God of Brokenness" (March, 1977, p. 178), she bore the name "'Jean Annette." This article is a chapter from her most recent book, to be released by Harper and Row in May. She mentions of the book: "Celibate passion is a deep-seated life force that courses within each of us, whether we are male or female, lay or clergy, married or single, young or old. It is a passion that longs for intimacy yet leads us to discover our essential aloneness." The title of the book is Celibate Passion. To burn for and to be grounded in the reality of God is the most important thing we can do with our lives. But even this is not enough. Once we have caught fire and have found our deepest center, then we must call forth the birthing of God in others. We must be midwives of new life; we must do something creative with our relationship to God. To be fully religious, we must share him with those around us. This insight has been one of the traditional justifications for choosing a celibate or solitary life-style. Celibacy supposedly gives us more freedom to pursue a career or to give ourselves in creative service. But this is only partly true. Instead of fre.eing us for greater creativity, celibacy often be-comes a synonym for addiction to work. How easily we drown our lives in too much verbiage and paper work, and limit our relationships to the stimulation of one small part of our anatomies. We spend so much of our time reproducing the past or maintaining the status quo that we neglect to develop the multi-dimensional, psycho-physical-spiritual beings we are. In the book of Genesis, when God directs Adam and Eve to be fruitful, 357 3511 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/3 multiply, and fill the earth, he is referring to more than biological repro-duction. Our vocation is to be co-creators with God, to fill the earth with unique and unrepeatable forms of life. To do this, we must awaken our-selves to new levels of consciousness and experience. Such awakenings~, however, always require time. Thus, I find that implicit in the call to wholeness (which is exactly what religious life is all about) is the call to leisure. I stress leisure as opposed to work because it implies attitudes which are essential to creativity. In the ancient creation stories and myths, divine creativity is never the same as work. Work is purposeful activity, a duty marked by drudgery, a mechanical reproduction of something already existing. Divine creativity, as presented in Genesis, is so leisurely that it seems to be play. God savors, applauds, and rejoices in creating unique and beautiful things. And he does this, as is stated in the books of Ecclesiasticus and Proverbs, only after eons and eons. Before the beginning of the created universe, there was neither activity nor rest. God alone was there. Alone and yet not alone; one and yet three. And there was leisure: an intense, intimate relationship of presence and reciprocity. It is not difficult to understand why we have lost sight of the importance of leisure for creativity. Inherent in our Protestant Ethic is an emphasis on work which has gradually evolved into its ove~:valuation and a very limited concept of what it means. The utilitarianism of Jeremy Bentham has persuaded us that our greatest motivation for work is pleasure, which can only be measured by the utility, or usefulness, of the work. We have learned to equate usefulness with happiness, and the amount of work we do with virtue. In today's society, we are measured by the job we hold and by how many luxuries of the culture we can purchase. Utilitarianism has so saturated even our religious concepts that it is almost impossible for us to be leisurely. Somewhere in our cerebral memory banks, we know that idle hands are potentially evil, and that we are slothful if we prefer to "be" instead of to "do." To be "good" is to work hard and to work always. We suspect options that smack of a Bohemian pursuit of pleasure and we feel guilty when we are not engaged in anything. To relieve ourselves of this guilt, we make leisure work-oriented and centered around the values of progress and production. Our leisure must have a purposi~, even if it is merely to rejuvenate our minds and revitalize our bodies. Thus, many of us in religious life are simply modern-day re-incarnations of Sisyphus, a worker chained to his function, never pausing from fruitless toil and never reaping the rewards of labor. We can only become human, I am convinced, by taking time for leisure and by acquiring the attitudes of leisure. The call to be religious is a call to leisure in all of its most self-actualizing expressions. Aristotle, in his Politics, says that leisure is so important that it is the center about which every.thing revolves. When we become more creative and playful, we be- Impassioned Presence: Religious Life and Leisure / :359 come more like God. As Robert Neale says, "the maturation of the indi-vidual presents the opportunity of growing from playlessness to full play and., to 'fully play' in the adult is religion.''1 "Full play," which "uses ¯ all the potentials offered at the particular developmental stages of the individual's physical, psychological and social growth,'' is the same as what Mortimer Adler calls "leisure work" or Abraham Maslow terms "self-actualization." And this type of play is always an experience of the "holy,''3 which results in wisdom. Ironically enough, when we experience the "holy," the wisdom we perceive often seems more like foolishness (1 Co 1:27). Leisure leads us to a wisdom which seems crazy. It is this.madness which characterizes King David as he danced before the Ark of the Covenant, and St. Paul, who became a fool for Christ. True leisure in relationship to the holy produces what the Greeks call eutrapelia, a nimbleness of mind which enables us to play. It is a wise balance between too much laughter and too much seriousness. The seventh day of creation, then, is not a rest after a week of hard work; it is a festive celebration of new life and love. It is a time of uselessness, a time "where the goal is not to have but to be, not to own but to give, not to control but to share, not to subdue but to be in accord.''4 Usually, the only time we really play is when we are children. This is why I find it significant that several ancient religions have myths of infant gods who create from their play. Dionysius, Hermes, Apollo, and Heracles are all world-creating children. The Christian Savior is the child of Bethlehem. Children seem to know what leisure is. A child enters readily into the spirit of play, imagination, and creativity: A child can waste time, and love every minute of it. A child can see things for the first time, and can be delighted with beauty. Children express wholeness, Carl Jung tells us, because they do not get lost in the one-sidedness of adulthood. A child is thus a "symbol of the union of opposites: a mediator, bringer of healing, ¯. one who makes whole."5 Perhaps this is why Jesus insists that we must become like children to enter the kingdom of God. We know very little about the childhood of Jesus. But we can get clues of what it was like from Luke's report that "the child Jesus grew in wisdom and grace" (Lk 2:40). Luke could have told us that Jesus grew in carpentry skills, but instead he uses wisdom and grace, two words associated with leisure. During those thirty years I think Jesus came to realize that, to be a person of God, one must take time to really see, to marvel at the mystery of being, and to penetrate the essence of things. It is only by being there, ~Robert Neale, In Praise of Play (New York: Harper & Row, 1969), p. 82. 21bid., p. 84. 31bid., p. 97. 4Abraham Heschel, The Sabbath (New York: World, 1951), p. 1. 5Carl Gustav Jung, Psyche and Symbol, ed. by Violet S. de Laszlo (Garden City: Doubleday & Co., 1958), p. 128. 360 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/3 in the presence of God, that one can grow in wisdom, discernment, and vision. The gospel tells us that when Jesus called the apostles they left behind their work to follow him (see Mk 1:16-21). We could hardly say that the apostles never worked from that day onward. What I think is meant is that when they came to know Jesus, their attitudes changed. They left behind their pragmatic, workaday attitudes and learnt from him to be still, to suffer with others, and to appreciate the small things in life. Jesus taught them to see the birds of the air, the lilies of the field, the widow with her mite, and the little children at their feet. He taught them to think creatively, to expand their thoughts beyond traditional logic. God, he told them, is everywhere and in everyone: the saint as well as the sinner, the Samaritan as well as the Jew, the woman as well as the man. And he taught them prayer, not that of rote memory or constant petition, but that of simply being in the presence of God in silent adoration. I have often wondered why Jesus referred to himself as a shepherd. He never tended sheep; instead, he was a carpenter. In the context of leisure, his identification as shepherd becomes understandable. The carpenter symbol has always been equated with hard work, usefulness, efficiency, productivity, and common sense. All good qualities, but qualities that can easily become lost in attitudes of pragmatism. The shepherd-symbol, how-ever, has always denoted a person of vision, someone who knows wisdom and leisure. The shepherd symbolizes the responsible adult who has recaptured the essence of childhood. He or she embodies a sense of the ineffable, an awareness of the grandeur of creation, a radical amazement at all of reality. In various myths, the shepherd sees the sacred in the ordinary and thus is the first to discover the abandoned prince or the newly born offspring of the gods. It is certainly not strange that a group of shepherds first discerned the signs of Jesus' birth. Nor is it strange that so many leaders of God's people--Abraham, Joseph, Moses, and David--were also shepherds. Lei-sure produces the vision necessary for good shepherding and wise lead-ership. In taking time to stop and be still for a while, to forget our thoughts and plans, to listen to the sounds of the universe within and around us, we reach new levels of awareness. Our minds are suddenly absorbed by the beauty of particulars, whether immense or infinitesimal. Common things which once seemed boring now loom before us as exquisite works of art, capturing our interest and engaging our curiousity. The frying pan we are washing suddenly becomes a marvelous sculpture; the rose in the garden becomes like no other flower we have ever seen. Uniqueness intoxicates us; we yearn to discover more of the mysteries that surround us. In each particular we contemplate the universal. The world seems more profound, more all-embracing, and more wondrous than we have ever before realized. We are Impassioned Presence: Religious Life and Leisure / 361 awed by a deepened sense that being itself is something penetrable and comprehensible, but at the same time unfathomable, everflowing, and inexhaustible. I have found that the contemplative awareness found in leisure may remain on a purely natural level, or it may soar to the heights of religious experience. This awareness ushers us simultaneously into our full human potentialities and into the silent ever-loving presence of God. For this reason, the ancient Greeks considered the contemplative life as the highest form of existence. In contemplation we become most like God the creator and the lover, and thus, as Aristotle believed, achieve perfect happiness. This contemplation is not an intricately contrived state of altered con-sciousness, but the "relaxed and useless, focused attention of the whole mind on reality, a simple intuitive gaze born of wonder and love."'6 In leisure, we learn with T. S. Eliot to regain our childlike eyes and "'to know the place for the first time.''7 We look and we reverence. We are delighted once again and rejoice continuously in new loves and new ad-ventures. We give recklessly of our undivided attention and once again "resume our childhood love affair with single, concrete objects: with one coffee table, with one backyard, with one human face.''a We learn to love with no purpose; to face life without manipulation or exploitation. With no expectation whatsoever, we come, we are silent, and we take a long, undistracted look. Our prayer ceases to be an obligation Or duty. God and the soul "have fruition of each other in the deepest silence.''9 God becomes the heart of our being, the center of our lives, the priority of our day. We take time and make time, perhaps consciously at first, but then uncon-sciously, until at last we realize this is the way it must always be. The wisdom of leisure is the knowledge, of firsthand experience: a sa-pientia of communion, a tasting of the right things. More than contem-plation of the beautiful, it is a vital union which obliterates all barriers and joins the lover and beloved as one. It is an experienced knowledge in which the separateness of the ego begins to fade, and we enter rapturously into the object we are contemplating. Such union leads to a new creation on both the natural and the religious levels (see 2 Co .5:17). So absorbing is this ex-perience that we often lose our sense of time. Everything, past, present, and future, becomes here and now. Slowly, we learn to live wholly in each moment. Everything, in this frame of mind, is a gift to be celebrated. We are inundated with a new zest for life. We are so joyfully caught up in the 6Fr. William McNamara, "The Meaning of Festivity," Desert Call (Special Anniversary Issue, May, 1971), p. 50. ~T. S. Eliot, "'Little Gidding," Four Quartets (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1943), p. 59. 8Walter Kerr, The Decline of Pleasure (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1962), p. 207. aTeresa of Avila, Interior Castle, trans, by E. Allison Peers (New York: Doubleday & Co., 1961), p. 223. 369 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/3 moment that we learn more and more the ability of present. Everything is thus made holy. Living in the present moment teaches us a certain dependency and trust. There is more to life than what we put into it; the future is not always determined by our own efforts or plans. One of the saddest consequences of the growth of technology is that to a great extent we are no longer dependent on the seasons and the sun, the amount of rainfall or the fertility of the soil. No longer are we ,forced by nature to wait until the right time of growth or maturation. It was not until I spent a year in the wilderness of Nova Scotia that I made time in my life for nature and waiting. The garden was not just a garden, but a miracle of new life; the forest was not just a forest, but an eco-system made up of individual trees and fascinating animals. Dogs were no longer dogs, but creatures who taught me about the exuberance of living and the humor of God. I learned that I had to wait until the chickens decided to lay their eggs before I could gather them. To go to the nearest town, I sometimes had to wait until a fallen tree had been rolled aside or the muddy road had dried up. This natural experience of waiting led to an intense awareness of the sacred. As the natural ground exploded into its harvest, so too my ground ignited with the divine fire. God was not only real but present. In Nova Scotia I also learned of an ancient Jewish custom which changed my understanding of leisure. This custom regards the Sabbath as a time of presence. On the preceding night, a vigil is held to heighten our awareness and to usher in the Sabbath in a revered way. The Sabbath thus is neither a dutiful time of worship nor a day of rest. Instead, it becomes a day of true leisure, the celebration of reciprocity: we come to God and God comes to us. Shekinah, the divine indwelling, comes in a special way seeking human love. God chooses to linger with his creation and to have intercourse with it. "'When that day comes, it is Yahweh who speaks, you will call me, 'my husband'." (Ho 2: 18). There is a celibate part of us that is in some way engaged to eternity, to holiness, to the God of all creativity. This part of us anticipates the footsteps of God's coming, sees the wonderful in the ordihary signs of his advent, and savors every glimpse of his being. When we come to recognize this celibate part of ourselves, I think we will spontaneously make special room in our lives for prolonged vigils and sacred days. These times will be so sacred that they can be gloriously celebrated, revered, and con-sequently, wasted. By entering into this leisurely dimension of celibacy, I believe we will be better able to respond passionately to the whole of life. We will learn to be present to both the comedy and the tragedy, with both laughter and tears. We will become more real, more intensely saddened and more hilariously joyous, because of our faith that all these experiences are Impassioned Presence: Religious Life and Leisure / 363 reconciled in God's presence. I think the absence of this faith is one reason why Jesus got so angry with the Pharisees. "We played the pipe for you, and you wouldn't dance; we sang dirges and you wouldn't be mourners" (Mt 11: 17). They did not believe enough in God to let life seep into their bones and profoundly move them. Jesus himself knew happiness and tears, gentleness and anger, harshness and compassion. What sustained and supported him in both p6sitive and negative situations was his faith in God's presence. He could believe with Job that even in the darkest of nights he would again know laughter and the cries of joy (Jb 8:21). I sense in Jesus a conscious feeling not only of the rhythm of these alternating opposites but of their intrinsic harmony, their essential place in the eternal order. To respond to this divine order is, I believe, the essence of religious obedience. It is an interior and exterior sense of harmony, of being in step with the music, of doing the right things at the right time. Whenever I experience this harmony, I am filled with peace. I am one with God, and this makes my heart light. My spirit soars; it y~arns to express its delight. "You have made known the way of life to me; you fill me with gladness through your presence" (Ps 16:11). Lightheartedness, with its spirit of play, is often expressed in dance. Dancing has always been an excellent symbol of leisure, for it embodies all of the characteristics which also lead to creativity. To dance means to immerse our whole selves in the present moment. We focus our attention on the other, whether that other be a partner or the music or a particular rhythm, and we become one with the movement. Dancing has been re-garded by many people as a waste of time, for when we are dancing, we cannot do anything else. But that is precisely the point. And that is why dancing has always been an expression of divine worship and.why I wish we would dance more in our liturgical services. As Van der Leeuw writes: "The dance, by its very nature, is ecstatic. It makes us beside ourself, lifts us above life and the world, and lets our whole earthly existence perish in the maelstrom.''1° For the ancient Hebrews, dance was an expression not only of joy but of intense praise. Only by wasting time, in losing oneself in the Beloved, can one really come to praise. The essence of real worship is the useless, selfless affirmation of the Other. Thus, when the Hebrews worshipped Yahweh, they put their whole hearts and souls into it. The book of Exodus speaks of timbrels and dancing (15:20-21); Judith writes of garlands and palm branches in the hands of all (15:12-14); the First Book of Samuel tells of dances to the sound of music and joyous cries (18:6). "David and all the House of Israel danced before Yahweh with all their might, singing to the accompaniment of lyres, harps, tambourines, castinets, and cymbals . David danced whirling round before Yahweh . leaping and., displaying ~°Gerardus Van der Leeuw, Sacred and Profane Beauty: The Holy in Art, trans, by David E. Green (New York: Holt, Rinehart, & Winston, 1963), p. 29. 364 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/3 himself as any buffoon" (2 S 6:5, 17, 20). The Scriptures repe~atedly invite us to praise God in a way that is more than verbal (see Jdt 16:1-2; Ps 149:2-3). The New Testament accounts are no different. Everywhere Jesus goes, he makes people lighthearted. "The blind see again, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised to life" (Lk 7:22). Through the ages, Christians have repeatedly come back to this concept of leisure as it relates to religious life. Sixth-century Christian art portrays the resurrection of Jesus as a dance in which he draws the redeemed upward toward heaven. Christ, as the firstborn of the dead, is the leader in the eschatology of freedom, and the Church, as his bride, dances along. Ac-cording to these paintings, to dance is to see God. Dante, probably more than any other Christian writer, sees the entire universe laugh with delight in God's presence. He writes 6f innumerable dances.~1 Heaven is filled with "the dancing and great festival of the singing and flashing of light with light, joyous and benign.'w' Everything for Dante whirls around the Center in perfect harmony and ecstatic rapture. The traditional association of leisure with religious life, in my opinion, expresses a profound wisdom. Only when people began to equate creativity with work instead of with leisure, did our concepts of prayer and heaven become passive and uninteresting. Time spent in mutual loving presence between God and ourselves can never be static or never become boring. In being called to be religious, it is important to remember that we are also called to leisure. This call--which contains a lifetime of creative attitudes and expressions--embraces both activity and passivity, play and work, contemplation and apostolic service. Abraham Heschel puts it thus: ~'Ev-ery instant is an act of creation. A moment is not a terminal but a flash, a signal of be.ginning. Time is perpetual innovation, a synonym for con-tinuous creation.''~3 To become fully human, fully religious, I believe we must embrace everything with an impassioned presence. l~Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy, trans, by H. R. Huse (New York: Rinehart, 1958). Dante.writes of the dance of the fiery spirits (Paradise VII:4, p. 359), of the lofty Seraphim (Paradise VII1:25, p. 365), of the blazing stars---who seem "to be ladies not ending a dance but silently waiting and listening until they have heard the new measure" (Paradise X: 75-80, p. 376), and of the Principalities and Archangels (Paradise XXVIII: 124-125, p. 458). ~Zlbid., Paradise XI1:22-24, p. 383. ~aHeschel, op. cir., p. 100. Poverty and the Space Around Us Charles A. Law, S.J. Father Law has been missioned for twenty years to Nepal, having originally entered the Chicago Province of the Society of Jesus. His present address is: St. Xavier's School; Jawalakhel; G.P.O. Box 50' Kathmandu, Nepal. 'In| this article I would like to share with you some personal reflections on how the practice of religious poverty helps to develop a sense of God. Many nowadays develop the meaning of poverty in relation to our apostolate. Poverty for them has its meaning in helping Christ's poor. Some develop this idea further by equating poverty with a

Issue 30.4 of the Review for Religious, 1971. ; EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITOR Everett A. Diederich, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to REVIEW FOR R~LIGIOUS; ~12 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63to3. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St.- Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ~9m6. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical approval by faculty members of the School of Divinity of Saint Louis ~. ~.,'ersity, the editorial oflfices being located . ';12 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard. Saint Louis, Missour 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Edu-cational Institute. Published bimonthly and copyright ~ 1971 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Published for Review fi,r Religious at Mr. Roval & (;uilford Ave., Bahimore. Md. Printed in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at Baltimore. Maryland and at additional mailin~ offices. Single c~pies: $1.25. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order paya-ble to REVIEW eort REL1OIOUS in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REVIEW IgOR RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address. - Renewals and new subscriptions should be sent to REvmw ~OR RELIGIOtJS; P. O. Box 1110; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Manuscripts, editorial correspondence, and books for re-view should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; .539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to the address of the Questions and Answers editor. JULY 1971 VOLUME 30 NUMBER 4 SISTER MARIE BRINKMAN, S.C.L. Toward a Theology of Women's Religious A theology of any aspect of the Christian life by its nature evolves. Perhaps the greatest difficulty of living in an age of transition in the Church is to feel the process and not the fruits of theological evolution. That seems to be where we are in what has long been called--and lately "unlabeled" by Brother Gabriel Moranl--religious life. Whatever such a theology has been for the past, it is no longer adequate if we are to judge by current efforts to enunciate a theology of celibacy for the present, or fu-ture. If it is fair to generalize, we might call that of the past a "theology of negation." In the sense used here, the term means an understanding and practice of the vows o~ religion which emphasized mortification or restraint of human inclinations and desires, in order to realize an ideal of universal charity dedicated to service, sharing of goods in community, and snbmission to the will of God. The end was wholly positive: to follow Jesus Christ in establishing His kingdom on earth. The ground of the theology was the gospel. But complex factors resulted in emphasis on the self: self-denial, self-perfection, and a profound privacy in living united with God. Such em-phasis wa~ natural and necessary when the life of celibacy for the kingdom struck its roots in a primitive Christian-ity inimical to its pagan surroundings. Flight from the world to the desert--literally or simply in spirit--was a dramatic and effective model for following Christ. If Augustine's experience and temperament brought liim to it in struggle, others sought it by inclination. It ~See his article in National Catholic Reporter, December 18, 1970. ÷ ÷ ÷ Sister Marie is a faculty member of ¯ St. Mary College; Xavier, Ks. 66098. VOLUME 30, 1971 4" 4" 4" Sister Marie ¯ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 564 would be some time, furthermore, before the asceticism of the desert and Augustinian theology, influenced by Paul, would be modified by Benedict's rule of modera-tion. Even then, throughout the Middle Ages, as the monastery came to grips with the world, the need for strict asceticisnl gTew. If its roots in the gospel became manifest in the joy of Francis's mendicant poverty, the joy was no less the fruit of renunciation. Yet within the Poverello's .lifetime, that reach of the spirit that says "yes" to all creation proved too difficult an integra'tion for many. Extremes and strife divided his followers. But if negativism and individualism were always abuses of celibate life, spiritual freedom and individnal-ity were its frnit in every age. The passion of universal charity, of profound friendship, and of intimacy with Jesus Christ is the part of the mystery that Benedict, Francis, and John of the Cross knew to its depths. So too conntless others. A positive theology then is nothing new--except in an interpretation and practice appropriate to contempo-rary experience and language. The question is not the validity of renunciation under vows, which by Christ's promise brings the hundredfold of communal life, but the meaning of that recompense. If emphasis in the past has been on limitation and self-denial for the sake of the spirit, it is growing into a desire for celebration of the spirit. If, in the past, a certain privatism of spirituality paralleled external community life, today personal and communal relationships are becoming ways to God in a different manner. Far from a secularistic or humanistic approach to reli-gious commitment, the question may involve a more de-manding and mature way of living in simplicity and obe-dience to the Spirit than did older forms of communal living. It may call for a fuller renunciation in the very experience of personal commnnion and communal rela-tionships. The point is that, primarily, the question is one of community. Here is no suggestion that the historical phenomenon of individual persons freely coming together to live in celibacy and service, and publicly declaring their inten-tion to the Christian community, is pass~ in the life of the Chnrch. That personalism, freedoin of life style, and sharing can become fetishes of a new kind of communal life is an evident risk. That the life may broaden to include celibate anti married persons in the same commu-nity is an evident possibility. But the risk of any communal life is loss of solitude sufficient to sustain it, and sharing that becomes expo-sure. Put another way, the nltimate risk is absence, rather than presence, of God to lnan in his heart. Then the presence of fellowmen becomes an absolute necessity-- and a new flight to the desert follows. Paul's analogy of marriage and the Church can be a foundation stone for a new enunciation of an old theol-ogy of celibate communal life. The analogy has less to do with the submission of woman to man and a concept of virginity as superior to marriage than with the comple-mentary values of marriage and celibacy. The Church is imaged in neither one nor the other, but in both. This is so because the analogy to the Chnrch lies not only in the sexual union of man and wife, fruitful in the family, but in the union between mature persons in friendship. Without this highest valne--which is Christ's own word for man's union with him--marriage is imper-fect, and celibacy is not fully hnman. It may be that for most people the ration of Cltrist and tl~e individual per-son is fully realized only within a spiritual union of free, eqnal persons. Marriage wants this; celibacy shoukl nur-ture it. Further, in Augustine's doctrine of uni~m with God, it is not the negative and ascetical aspects of the spiritual life that are significant so much as his emphasis on pres-ence, the inner Light that is God dwelling in man. That presence between persons is a reality analogous to, even conducive to growth in presence with God was not a strange idea to Augustine. He knew it fully in relation to his mother, if to no one else. In the twelfth century, Kichard of St. Victor, by way of Augnstine's doctrine of exemplarism, the "necessary rea-son," explained from the experience of human love the communion of Persons in the Trinity. Ewert Cousins, in a recent issue of Thought,'-" perceptively analyzes Ri-chard's treatise as a contribution of medieval theology to contemporary philosophy and psychology. Examining the dynamics of interpersonal love in the faith-transformed tradition of the Christian community, Richard sees that charity demands that a person love to the fullness of his capacity: "To enter into a partial rela-tionship with another person, without depth or intensity, is to fail to realize the possibilities of human love." And in realizing such capacity "one mounts into the life of God . The human person ~nost imitates his divine Exemplar--and is therefore most a person--when he transcends himself in a union of love for another per-son." :~ The author then explores a deeper level of Richard's theology of love, as a growth from charity to the happi-ness of loll communication to the generosity of sharing -""A Theology of Interpersonal Relations," Thougt, t, Spring 1970, pp. 56-82. :~ Ibid., pp. 71 and 65. 4- 4- + Women's Ret~g~ous VOLUME 30, 1971 + ÷ + Sister Marie REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 566 this ~nutual love. In explaining the exemplary reason for the Trinity of Divine Persons, the medieval theologian speaks of three aspects of charity: self-transcending union, individuality of persons, and their creativity. In this third and perfect stage of charity, it is fruitful in a third per-son: ua the Trinity, the Spirit; in the union of hnsband and wife, the child; and in friendship, community with yet another. But a theologian, contemporary now rather than to his own time, offers a doctrine of analogy even richer in implications, perhaps, for present thought about the spir-itual life. It may well be that Ricbard's and his own thinking coincide. John Henry Newman, especially in his writings about the act of knowledge, the life of faith, and the development of doctrine, dealt with man's relation-ship to God in a way that foreshadowed the insigl~ts of philosophers and psychologists of human relationships for a century to come. Althongh he speaks in the traditional language of Catholic doctrine about revealed mysteries, he is con-stantly describing and reflecting on experience, and re-fuses to leave mystery or doctrine on any abstract plane. The act of conscience, observed in the earliest life of reason, becomes for him a consciousness of AnotlYer and a response that demands fidelity. When this moral princi-ple becomes a growing knowledge of Person, faith be-comes experiential. That it becomes an experience to be shared is the explanation for Newman's writing about it. As be knew faith, it was the fulfillment of reason. It was a profoundly human experience of a divine gift, so fitting to the mind, rigorot, sly exercised, as to seem na-tural. This experience, as the ground of a concept of anal-ogy, is so far from being simply intellectual that it be-comes an act of relationship, a response to presence that is the very analogue of friendship. Analogy here means no mere parallel between knowl-edge and belief, between human and divine relationship; neither did the exemplar, or "necessary reason," for Au-gustine or Richard. It means an interaction, a comple-ment. Levels and quality of experience remain distinct even while illnminating and enlarging one another. But the implications cannot receive fair treatment outside the context of Newman's full reflections and development of ideas. They are the ground for asking some serious ques-tions about communal life nnder vows, as it develops today. If the most serious of these tend to converge, it is per-haps toward an nltimate qnestion: Is there something absolute that constitutes religious life as a necessary fac-tor in the life of the Church, and if so what is it? Answers wonld not be slow in coming: the vows, corn- munity, celibate consecration to Jesus Christ, service to the people of God according to the Gospel . or others. Then, because any one of these, in relation to the others, can evoke a fair argument for its primary value for reli-gious life, the question remains, what is there in com-munal living, or an act of dddication, or apostolic witness that demands patterns of living in obedience, poverty, and chastity? For not only the patterns but their princi-ples are in question. The thesis here is that an experienced relationship to God in Jesus Christ, known througla a like relationship to one's companions, is the absolute factor without which religious life wonld not exist. The theological, psycholog-ical, and strnctnral dimensions of the relationship are not different approaches to the question, but aspects of a single phenomenon of celibate consecrated life--here considered as it may be for a woman. Companions, in tbe traditional context of religious life, are tile members of one's immediate religious family and include all the members of the community. In the whole view, however, they are not defined by either of these groups, for at one time in the history of the Church, celibate women witnessed to the kingdom within the sin-gle Christian community, without need for a gronp set apart, and it is conceivable that the condition conld pre-vail again. Then the Christian commnnity itself would be so renewed that its communal witness would be all that the Church would require and individual celibate men and women would minister within it, but in more varied ways demanded by the needs of a Church in a secularized society. A married clergy within the ranks of the diocesan priesthood might be prophetic of such celibate life in the Church, which ah'eady exists along with religious com-munities. Celibates, priests, and laity would then make one whole community. The relationship in question is that which tlows from the life of the Trinity to man in God's acts of Father-hood, or creation and providence; of Sonsbip, or revela-tion in redemption; and of Spirit, or indwelling to make whole, integTal, or holy. All this is a matter of initial, continning belief for the Christian who, gradually by God's graciousness, comes to know experientially what it means to be created, forgiven, and loved. Fm'tber, the quality of that experiential knowledge of faith is undefin-able and dilferent for each believer. The point here is that it takes on a special aspect for one who responds to the call to live by the evangelical counsels. Then the relationship to God entails a complete dedication, or giving over, of oneself to Jesns Christ for ÷ + + Women's Religious LiIe VOLUME 30, 1971 567 Sister Marie REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 568 the sake of extending His kingdom on earth. The de-mand on a person may be simply that of God's will, a desire to live in a religious community, gratitude for what God has given and the need to share it, or any other form the call may take; bnt it is answered with the knowledge that it means service, nndetermined by oneself and in a condition of personal poverty. The service and its necessary conditions, as well as the connnunity in which it is given, are secondary to the ultimate motivation which comes from the realization that God is one's Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifying Life, and that He wishes to be so to others who do not . know Him. The initial undertaking of a vowed life for such reasons is like the commitment of a young woman to a man whom she knows and loves for his goodness and wishes to marry; as yet she has no real knowledge of what he is like in his whole self and in the power of his relation to her. That can only come in their day-to-day mntual giving and growth in conjugal love. The consent and gift of the marriage vows arc an act of faith that fuller realization of each other will bring to maturity. If the love grows in the depth that the sacrament signi-fies, and when it includes the full dimension of friend-ship, the realization must come in the most intimate and generous hnman relationship possible to man. This then is not model for, but parallel to the realization and inti-macy that the religious woman should achieve in relation to Jesus Christ: parallel in th:~t a conamitment either to marriage or to religious life depends upon an extension, in concrete experinaental terms, of the faith and hope and love in which a believing person lives with God--but frequently at a less profound depth of experience than he knows in a human relationship. In fact, it is almost easier for a yonng woman to believe in the creative power for her of the man she loves than in the highly personal creative providence of God for her. She may experience his forgi~reness in a more immedi-ately healing way than she knows the mercy of Christ; and her sense of oneness with him grows more strong than her awareness of God's dwelling in her. When reali-zation of her relationship to God eqnals in intensity of experience her relationship with her husband, she will live to the full the sacrament of marriage and be herself a channel of God's action. But the same difficulty in realizing a personal relation to God that integrates ;ill hunaan relationship can attend the spiritual growth of a religions. It is not so ranch a matter of which must take precedence as it is a constant projection of one to the other for the sake of understand-ing, and realizing God through knowing and loving man. Whatever the actual level of experience in relationship a person knows in marriage or religious life, the two are parallel, .or complementary, in the Church as a sign of God's relation to man in a human commnnity. One is as necessary to the Cburcb as the otber. But in tbe parallel lies their difference. Marriage isa formal sacrament, be-cause the family community is fundamental to buman natnre and stands in need of special grace beyond that of the individual Christian life; because families propagate the Christian community of believers; and because the union of man and wife signify the union of Christ and his Church. Furtber, marriage lind the family witness to the mysteries of Incarnation and Redemption as they renew man in time. The religious community, on the other hand, bad its beginning later in bistory when a special witness within the Christian community was needed. The witness con-sists in colnmunity, as does that of the family, bnt not in any particular form--monastic, mendicant, apostolic, or contemplative. The form may even be the Christian com-munity as a whole, with certain members living in celi-bate witness and service. The essential note of religious life is the witness of a relationship to Jesus Christ unique in the Church, dependent upon the absolute surrender of oneself to God for the sake of the kingdom. II The religious consecration and the common life that ordinarily flows from it are sacramental by their nature, a sign of the escbatological mystery of the fulfillment of the kingdom, that is, the full realization of God's creative, redemptive, and nnitive action upon an individual man and the whole human community. Religious life itself is the temporal sacrament of the Church as it will be be-yond time when all realities signified will be revealed. But just as nothing of the God-man relationship is an abstraction of doctrine or theology when realized in expe-rience, so this connection between the individual and the human community under God's action is a living reality to be experienced, if it is true. If the nature of its truth could be realized by the individual, living either in the natural family or the religious group, then much of the conflict between the personal and the communal, be-tween the natural and the supernatural would disappear. To say its trutb lies in living out the doctrine of the Mystical Body and in realizing the community of the people of God is not to perceive how this is accomplisbed psychologically. To say it is the work of grace is not to explain what grace is, in the interaction of God's and man's freedom. And the words of Cbrist that "what you do to the least of tbese you do to me" are a truth that, like all trntbs of such dimension, is in danger of becom-÷ + ÷ Women's Religious VOLUME .30, 1971 569 4" Sister Marie REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ing axiomatic. Perhaps his other words, "This is my Body, which shall be given for you," bear upon these truths in such a way as to make clear what the experience of the relationship of the believer, and more particularly of the religious, to Jesus Christ can be. The full dimension and significance of the Incarnation is latent in these words of consecration. The mystery of God's taking on a created body, in order to be present to us fully in suffering our human condition, becomes here the mystery of Christ's signifying His creative and re-demptive presence in us in the form of food. Because He Himself is the food, we become one in eating it together --a unity of personal communion with Him and inter-communion with one another, a community hidden and yet to be realized in human personal communion. As with Him, this grows and expresses itself in the aware-ness of another's presence, in a growing knowledge of another's reality, in merciful acceptance of one's own and another's sinfulness, and in free creative unifying love. If these are effects of our communicating Jesus Christ, they are to be the effects of our communicating with one another. They are what man in his nature needs and constantly seeks in a fellowman; they are what only God can supply fully. But it may well be that God does not ordinarily work these effects in man except through his communion with those associated with him in a human community. When marriage becomes what it is meant to be for a man and a woman, their interrelationships are God-like in their effects, are, in fact, the very way in which God comes to and acts upon them. Ideally, as a couple mature in marriage, husband and wife increasingly liberate the creative power of the other, in the public ways of making and governing a home, of rearing a family. But the im-measurable factors of personal liberation of the spirit that determine the growth and interaction of personality between a man and a woman are the real cause of the family's unity. When a woman is fully recognized for what she is_and can become, is even brought to be what she could not be alone; when time after time she receives forgiveness for what she has done and compassion for what she is from one who knows her; when imperceptibly she comes to freedom and peace in union with one who loves her, then all of her creative powers are awakened to be exercised primarily upon her children, within her home, and beyond it. If she believes and contemplates this action of God upon her spirit through her relation to her husband, her faith in God's providence, her hope in His mercy, and her love for Jesus Christ become one with and realized in the bonds that unite her with husband and children in their community. The same needs of the spirit are fulfilled .or frustrated in the human community of those wbo have consecrated themselves by vow to Jesus Christ. But just as a husband can be neither substitute for a relation to God nor an "instrument" of salvation for a woman, so relation to Christ, for a celibate woman, is in no way a substitute for or even a sublimation of what a husband might be to her; nor is her religious community a substitute for a family. The relation to Christ is the ultimate human fulfillment in either familial or religious community; the human relations are not image of or psychological substi-tute for but the very substance and realization of the personal relation to God, in Jesus Christ. They are, or should be, fulfillment of Christ's words, "This is my Body." It is such relationship---of creative freedom, of healing mercy, and of unifying love--in a strong consciousness that this is what shonld be happening between them that can bind together the members of a ~eligious community. What they are to one another, in varying degrees of knowledge, affection, and effectiveness, God is to each of them. Their awareness of and action toward one another is in their presence to and action toward God. The two relationships ideally tend to be one. If relations with fellow religious in community reveal and make concrete the relation with God, the latter, as it is realized, purifies and strengthens the former. For to live deeply in faith and bope and charity is to know that relation to God constitutes one's being and qualifies all existence. The knowledge is not merely of the mind bnt the whole person, in the Biblical sense, and conditions all other relationships, afflicted with self-inter-est as they ~nay be. Realizing this, religions can under-stand what it means to find Christ in another, or to be Christ to another, because He has said and makes it come abont that "This--person and human community--is my Body." Yet he only does so within the limits of our psy-chological capacity and free choice to make such human commnnion a reality. That is why it is important for a young woman enter-ing upon religious life to understand that it is meant to fulfill bet as a woman quite as fully and selflessly as conjugal love and motherhood fulfill a married woman. Celibacy is a condition of life that means relationship as intense as that of marriage but more extensive, for its purpose or end is different. The sacramental community of marriage propagates and nurtures, within the family, the kingdom of God, while the sacramental commnnity of celibate men or women witnesses and ministers to the ÷ ÷ ÷ Women's R~tigious Li]e VOLUME 30, 1971 ÷ ÷ + Sister Marie REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 572 kingdom in its universal extension. But to accomplish this end the celibate woman must realize her capacities as does the married woman, and for both the fulfillment must come through commtmion with other human beings. To be what God intends her to be to man, any woman must exercise fully her power of creative love. If the woman dedicated to Christ were to be denied this, God would not be just. She undoubtedly denies herself the joy, the comfort, the strength of marital union; but she in no way denies herself womanhood. In her, then, passion must become whole, purified, and fruitful in her total surrender to Jesus Christ and in the human loves such dedication implies--love of such single-heartedness that it demands of her the devotion and selflessness that a husband and children require. And this love in her, too, is a receptivity to the strength and life that another can give in friendship. For in the life-begetting love that is the spirit of a woman, nothing can be lost or repressed. The reality of her sex, the psychology of her love, ;~re not lessened or transcended, but snbsulned in the comprehensive, effec-tive tenderness and devotion she is free to offer others. This increased and extended womanly power is the meaning of virginity. It is a power of love that does not fear, for the power is from and fruitful in God. It manifests itself, further, in ways that make celibate COllllnuual life, among equals and tinder authority, more difficult for a woman than is tile natural communal life of the family~that is, in certain ways. By natnre, a woman is receptive in human relationship, rather than aggressive; open to receive all another has to.give and desirous of giving in turn where she can be received. For a wife and mother, these qualities fulfill her when family life is normal. For a religious, when this openness and freedom are inhibited for any reason--lack of genuine comnumication or loss of self-confidence--she suffers iso-lation and can hardly relate even to one other. So com-nlunity is lost. It happens not infi'eqnently, for even while we know that we cannot live except in response to one another, we do not in any human community readily live in full responsibility for one another. That costs, and the price is oneself. To be responsible for another is to invite his pain to oneself and to accept the terms of his love, which can appear not as love but as self-defense or even aver-sion. It is to respect one another's freedom and integrity with something of the respect in which God holds us, knowing us wholly. Awareness that God's action comes in all the ways we react to one another can be traumatic and hard to accept, but can deepen faith not only in God but in the other person as well; then growth in grace is the same reality as growth in a human bond. When this identification of God's action with the action of one's sisters extends itseff in very ~nany relations in a religious community, its bonds are born at once of grace and human needs, ful-fillment, and suffering. This is the degree to which nature and grace, personal and communal fulfillment are one. Granted, it is for the most part achieved in the desire that it be so, always imperlectly in fact. But to believe that it is possible is the substance of hope, which "knows what it believes is true." Further, the bonds that unite a religious community in this way are the strict measure of the effectiveness of its apostolic service. Only insofar as the members liberate, have compassion for, and love one another can they be redemptive in their relations with others. It is as if the co~nmunity were the fruit of each member's relation to Christ, extending itself to others, just as the union of a man and woman in marriage bears fruit in the commu-nity of the family. But this creative power a woman has is love that does not grasp its object, as zeal and desire can make her do. It is the difference, in her human relation and apostolic witness and service, between a self-motivated determina-tion and a peaceful confident waiting for God's discovery in her and through her. A woman always wonders, with joy that does not obsct~re pain, at the life God brings forth in her; so this power of the life of pure faith that is virginity awakens her wonder. And that is lost when she reaches ot~t to take what she was made to receive, in discovery. Nor can the celibate woman depend, as can a married woman, upon another's singular love to support and in-spire her; hence, her radical solitude. She knows, in each human bond, that she is one of many whose relation to anotl~er reveals and re-creates that person. Making no exclusive claim, she acts with regard to another in the knowledge that any creative result will be the fruit of union with .]est~s Christ: t~ltimately His action, not her own, and this breeds a diffidence and restraint that re-spects the other's freedom and does not presume. A woman instictively knows, perhaps, that her latent power does not lie in the project and plan, in the self-confidence that acts without allowing hindrance; these are the characteristic roles of man, who rules the earth. A woman's power lies in re-creating persons, through suffer-ing what they bring to her, through freeing them from fear that they do not suffice for themselves and others. But it lies as well in the sensitivity and personal dimen-÷ + ÷ Women's VOLUME 30, 1971 573 sion she can bring to leadership and service in public actiou and institutional structures. Whatever bet role, in private and public life, as a woman is herself free, she supports and restores others. The liberation each achieves is really received, as creative grace or gift from God, through this hnman interaction. This kind of relationship is woman's natural fertility, and it matters little, so long as she is faithful, whether she realizes it through union, with a single man or as vowed solely to Jesus Christ. She must inevitably realize it in nnion with human beings--in free and unselfish love for another. But, united by vow to Jesus Christ, she is fruit-ful in darkness of faith, in freedom that does not kuow itself, and in love that cannot see what it creates. In a celibate life she cannot hold any child of her own beget-ting. III ÷ ÷ Sister Marie REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 574 Such considerations, theoretical as they may seem, lead to certain conclusions regardiug the structure of religious life. If this relationship of a celibate woman to Jesus Christ, realized in and determined by her relationsMp to her companions in comnmnity, is the absolute factor of religions life, then the forms and conditions of that life are wholly relative to it. N6ne of them are the end or essence of religious consecration; a woman does not give herself over to a community, nor to a way of life, nor to an apostolate. She gives /lerself to Jesus Christ in an extension and intensification of the relation of faith and hope and love in wbicl~ baptis.m established her. She is simply converted, or turned to Him wholly, in the grow-ing experience of that relationship and, like any other woman, must, if she is to be what God intends her to be, realize it at the greatest possible depth in a human com-munity. The latter, in fact, results from the relationship. That it demands a ministry of service and witness is as natural as that marriage demands of a wo~nan child-bearing and nurturing of a family. If human relatiouship and free-dora to serve as she can according to her abilities do not develop her, she can be ;i. detriment to strong communal life rather than a vital member. The natural, human, and personal dimensions of her life are not simply the base for supernatural dedication; the two are the same, when a person is sonnd and whole of body and spirit. It is out of place, then, to orientate discussion of com-munal authority, poverty, and service from the determi-nation to safeguard strnctnres--valid as they were in their origins--or values which are simply asking for new expression. An absolute end will always require certain conditions; this personal and communal relationship to .Jesus Christ demands the most stringent ones. In the family, the conditions are determined by nature: "witness, within the single dimension of a constant natnral group, to the God-man relationship, incarnated in this family in a singular time and place. Its creative, redemp-tive, and unitive acts will procreate the hufiaan and Chris-tian communities and, given man's frailty, its continuity needs guarantee and safeguard. The marriage contract is taken before and within the existing commnnity. Paren-tal authority is all-embracing in the rearing of children, and life style is highly concentrated and uniform--allow-ing for contemporary developments to the contrary. The limits of interdependence and natnral responsibilities condition freedom in day-to-day living, which has as its end the maturing of children to independence. But the conditions of celibate commnnal living are altogether different. The Incarnation of Christ i,a reli-gious commnnity is a continuing celebration of Eucha-rist: of thanksgiving that we are here together, who have come to witness to the mystery of Jesns Christ. The grace of a con~munity's sacramental value for the world is the graciousness of a Savior. More simply, perhaps, it is the manifest joy of meeting, between friends, whose presence to one another is what matters. From the start they are, or need to be, adnlts, capable of a life commitment and creative human bonds. What is absolutely necessary to the life of snch a com-munity is that the forms of communal living, of govern-ment, of anthority and responsibility, of personal and comnlunal poverty, and of apostolic service are conducive to each individual's realization of her relationship to Christ in her companions. There is no dichotomy be-tween personal and communal needs; they are one, when recognized in this context. The difficulties and suffering that attend responsibility for one another in such rela-tionship are a deeper asceticism than self-imposed forms of penance and prayer may be, for they demand thor-ough self-abnegation. Even the external practices of commnnity life, with the self-denial they entail, do not guarantee the experience of community unless they are informed by this experience of knowing and being known, in the way God knows and loves, by some few, or even one, of a religious woman's companions. The value of any given form, strnctnre, or practice is strictly determined by its contribution to the context in which each sister can freely and responsibly grow in the relationship to Christ that constitutes her life, determines her service, and produces community with her fellow reli-gious. Ironically, this relationship, spoken of as the spirit-ual life, is the growth in holiness that has been tradition- + + + Women's Religious Li[e VOLUME 30, 1971 575 + .4. Sister Marie REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ally held as the first end of the vows. But its psychological implications in the context of commnnal living and per-sonal fnlfillment need to be explored. It is there we can discover the common ground from which person-oriented' and commnnity-oriented concepts spring. This is not to say that the psychological needs and experiences of different generations are the same. But they can be quite different and still depend on the same values; the point is that legislation will not safeguard the commnnal values nor guarantee the personal realization here discnssed. The freedom of life style and respect for diversity of experience that such realization demands will l)e secnred by individuals, regardless of legislation that frustrates their action, and they will not consider them-selves disrespectful of authority in the taking. For their integrity and peace may, nnder certain circnmstances, de- But more important, the multidimensional natnre of the religions comnnmity demands it. Unlike the family, its end is a witness to the universality and fnlfillment of the kingdom of Christ in service that extends rather than concentrates itself. Becat,se it resnlts from the self-gift of responsible adtdts, acting nnder personal charisms, and continuing life together in daily voluntary offering, its structnre cannot be predetermined by traditions, nor can its govermnent be essentially hierarchical. To say that it is ecclesial is simply to reiterate the charismatic and communal aspects that it draws from the Church to which it is a witness. The hierarchical aspect is secondary to this, as it was in the early Chnrch. Yet it is nnlikely that strict collegiality rnled the early Christians who, even in communal living, needed strong leadership. The authority and collegiality are one in a community, when honest and educated responsibility govern its members. The evolution of the Christian com-munity and of religious commnnities, through many ages of dependence on authority, demands now much more trnst in the capacity of those in community to govern themselves. But the trust can come only from a mutual confidence that they ,~re persons committed in a common endeavor to witness to .Jesus Christ and to serve His peo-ple. The contract it religious makes by her vows is to God within this total ecclesial commnnity. It is also within a given religious community insofar as that gronp relates to the end of the Church. In a transitional age such as this one, the service a community gives within the Church must evolve even as the Chnrch's relation to the world is evolving. Hence, the evolntionary quality of any commu-nity, as the experience of its members and demands of its service cause it to change and renew itself. Flexibility of form and diversity of experience, now leadir;g to even freer forms and more varied services, actually guarantee the continuity of a religious community, if it is strong enough to change and grow within without loss of unity. Responsibility for that unity rests on each one, facing the valid and very different experience of .others with whom she lives. Past and present and future experience must he encompassed somehow, so that corn,non values and differing concepts can continue to grow together. Then varieties of life style need not threaten the unity. Latitude of practice in manner of dress, of government, of prayer life can actually guarantee the unity if the freedom allowed is not considered a concession to some kind of self-interest, or independence from the whole. Freedom then is not merely a means or condition, but an end: a liberty of spirit necessary for trne ~inity of persons in God. And authority is ,a means to it, especially when exercised by a woman. For the ultimate purpose of her power ls to assist others to the self-value that makes obedience acceptable to God. Then exercise of authority is more a ministry than a function, and can become the most creative of hnman acts and the most self-effacing. It is a woman's unique imaging of the action of God, which gives autonomy while it creates and in governance gnar-antees freedom. As in other apparent conflicts between natural and su-pernatural values, integration is the desired end. Author-ity and freedom, like celibacy and love, complement each other; the second is the fruit of the first. Whether experi-enced in counsel from one in an office of ministry, or sim-ply in friendship, the human relationship, grounded in Jesus Christ, is the sine qua non of religious community. This kind of bum:m relationship, with or without for-realities of office, can help religious women in community to come to a deeper realization of their vows. It estab-lishes obedience more firmly in the Spirit throt.,gh the depth of this htm~an dimension; it makes actual poverty the condition for simplicity of life and poverty of spirit in human relation; and celibacy, the condition of life that allows for the fullness of charity. Women's Religious Lile VOLUME ~0, 1971 577 BARBARA DENT The Mediocrity Challenge ÷ ÷ ÷ Mrs. Barbara Dent lives at 17 Piago Rd.; Clande-lands; Hamilton, New Zealand. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS God calls each human being in a unique way to come to Him. This unique way ~s that particular person's individual vocation. The quality and degree of his identi-fication with it is the measure of his powers of love, of his capacity for self-giving. Christianity has never pretended that to conform perfectly with a God-given vocation was easy. Our Lord Himself warned that anyone who compromised was not worthy of the kingdom of heaven. The foolish virgins were shut out. So was the guest without a wedding gar-ment. The man busy filling his barns died that very night under unfortunate circumstances. There was no time for a disciple to go back and bury his dead. The un-forgiving servant was "handed over to the torturers till be should pay all his debt." The house built on sand collapsed in ruins. It is human nature to hear God's call (for, after all, that is why he gave us ears), but it is also human nature to become so busy counting the possible cost that we answer with only a half-hearted murmur: "I may come--prob-ably tomorrow," or perhaps refuse: "I'm busy now for an indefinite period. Call again later." Even those who respond generously and enthusiasti-cally--" As Jesus was walking on from there he saw a man named Matthew sitting by the custom house, and he said to him, 'Follow me.' And he got up and followed him" (Mt 9:9)--seldom improve on that initial enthusiasm or even manage to maintain it. In the first fervor of dedi-cation, they are sincerely convinced that they want to make the total response, say the uncompromising yes; yet they often fail to continue through the years without surrounding that initial gift with reservations and elaborate systems of self-protection. They want to give, but their flawed human nature, played upon by the devil, forces them into mediocrity. In all the current controversy about the need and value of consecrated celibacy, the human urge to com-promise, to have one's cake and eat it too, plays its part. The argument for self-fulfillment sometimes forgets that any human being's ultimate fidfillment is in God, and therefore that whatever way of life aims straightest at God and is therefore that person's true vocation is also most designed to complete him as an individual: "The Church knows that only God, whom she serves, meets the deep-est longings of the human heart, which is never fully satisfied by what this world has to offer" (Church Today, 41). Human living provides innumerable routes to God, all of which can be the means of tmion with Christ; yet "sin has diminished man, blocking his path to fulfill-merit" (ibid. 13), and "a monumental struggle against the powers of darkness pervades the whole history of man" (ibid. 37). An element in tiffs struggle is that divided purpose which seeks to evade the .consequences of total commit-ment, and in the process often develops compromise into a fine art. However fashions change, whatever way-out forms theological speculations adopt, the call of Christ to each individual person remains the same, and its de-mand total. A true response to this call, whatever mode of life it involves, must lead to affirming with St. Paul: "For me, to live. is Christ." "The Lord is the goal of human history, the focal point of the longings of history and of civilization, the centre of the human race, the joy of every heart, and the answer to all its yearn!ngs" (ibid., 45). This is a fact of life, whatever the individual's voca-tion, celibate or married. There can be no essential self-fulfillment apart from Christ. We discover our true selves as we become those particular extensions of His incarna-tion tlmt He has chosen us to be. Any apparent fulfill-ment that occurs in alienation from Christ is spurions and dependent upon factors that chance can shatter, and t,st, ally does. Leaving aside the question of whether Christ and hu-manity are better served by a celibate or married clergy, let us look at the state of celibacy itself, whether in priest, religious, or lay person, male or female, and assess some of the ways in which it is subject to the mediocrity chal-lenge. No one can realize the full implications of the promise or vow of celibacy at the time of making it (lust as no marriage parmer can, on his wedding day, assess the im-plications of his vows). The vow is made as the formal seal of the gift of one's whole self and life to Christ in response to His call. ÷ ÷ 4- Mediocrity = VOLUME 30, 1971 579 + ÷ 4. Barbara Dent REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 580 It is in the subsequent living of the vow that its impli-cations are gradually made clear, so that one either as-sents more and mote deeply to them, relying more and more fully npon grace, or withdraws,' aghast, and com-promises, giving in before thb mediocrity challenge. Consecrated celibacy is a way of life, and a vocation, freely chosen as a positive good because intuited as one's personal rotate to God ordained by Him. The service of God and the service of humanity are inseparable. There- [ore, to travel courageously along this route for love of God is also to love one's neighbor. To be consecrated as a celibate is to become in a publicly recognized way Christ's man, Christ's woman, pledged to participate in the Savior's redemptive work, answering the call to total love for the sake of others in an all-embracive sense. In other words, the consecrated celibate is directly dedicated to the building tip of Christ's kingdom without deviation or withdrawal, to the bringing forth of spiritual children for God in eternity, instead of children of the ttesh for this world. Any route to God is straight and narrow with Calvary an inseparable part of it. The married state is no easier than the celibate state i[ it is entered into as one's pe-culiar and God-indicated route to Him. Of course this is often not the case, whereas the celibate's choice is usually a deliberate and conscious dedication to Christ first and foremost. The total love that consecrated celibacy demands is in-carnated in Christ Himself, and only in Christ. It can ex-press itself through human lives when infused into them as an extension of the divine life itself, those living wa-ters, that indwelling of the Trinity, that our Lord prom-ised to those who love Him. It means a passionate, un-compromising involvement of the whole self with the whole self of the personal, living, triumphant yet glori-ously wounded risen Lord. This entails becoming "a fragrant offering and a sacri-fice to God" (Eph 5:2) because incorporated into the sacrificial love-offering of the Son, made for the sake of humanity, to the greater glory of the Father. Human nature, disintegrated and flawed as it is, nat-urally fears such complete involvement with both God and man. We want to preserve intact the ego with all its intra-venous systems for feeding self-satisfaction and self-pres-ervation. We cannot help fearing and repelling such an invasion of the Other, although without it the enchained ego cannot be released into the freedom of the sons of God. We tare prisoners who have become dependent upon the enclosure of our cell walls for our sense of security. Just :is the trumpet blast shattered the walls of Jericho, so would the blowing of the Holy Spirit upon our pitiful ramparts raze them finally--if we let it: "For he bursts the gates of bronze and shatters the iron bars" (Ps 106:16). We recoil from even the thought of encouraging such invasion. The ego is certain it would mean disaster. Its instinct for preservation rebels against the dissolution of its barriers. Such fears are involuntary. Tbey are part of the com-plex defense mechanism against God that is I~orn with us in onr flawed human nature. We cannot help our myopic way of looking at things, our instinctive reaching out for half-truths, our intense anxiety at being taken over by God, our dread of Him as an alien, destructive force instead of our loving, eternal Father. What is required of ns is the calm recognition of all such systems of evasion, and the willed construction in the power of divine grace of contrary systems of encour-agement. We are called upon by God to recognize the insidious nature of the temptation to mediocrity, of the urge to compromise. We have to counter it by persistent prayer for His help, by the will to give and receive all, and by actions which express that will: I believe nothing can happen that will outweigh the su-preme adwlntage of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For him I have accepted the loss of everything, and I look on everything as so much rubbish if only I can have Christ and be given a place in him . All I want is to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and to share his sufferings by reproducing the pattern of his death (Phil 3:8,10). This must be what we consciously will in opposition to our involuntary desires and schemings to retain our walls, to refuse "the loss of everything." The temptation to mediocrity is essentially the tempta-tion to choose comfort. It is a special danger to the celi-bate whose vows and way of life can insulate him lrom involvement with others, from all those battering, in-vigorating, stress-provoking, exacerbating and fecundat-ing fluctnations of give and take that are inseparable from married and family life. It is necessary to remember always that consecrated celibacy has been chosen not in order to evade or be spared these, but to facilitate an even wider, deeper, and more selfless involvement with the human family itself. It should lead not to a peaceful withdrawal and the COln-forts of a serene bacbelorbood or spinsterdom, but to an nnending and painfnl generation and parturition of children for the kingdom of heaven: My children, I must go through the pain of giving birth to you all over again, until Christ is formed inyou (Gal 4:19). The mystery is Christ among you, your hope of glory . It is ÷ Mediocrity VOLUME 30, !971 581 4" + + Barbara Dent REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 582 for this I struggle wearily on, helped only by his power driving me irresistibly (Col 1:27,29). Like a mother feeding and looking after her own children, we felt so devoted and protective towards you, and had come to love you so much, that we were eager to hand over to you not only the Good News but our whole lives as well (1 Thes 2:8). The danger of celibacy is not sexual pressure building up to possible transgression level, but tile evasion of tension, stress, and battles in favor of ~omfort and safety. This can lead to petrification, through repression or cir-cumvention, of a person's whole affective powers. The personality becomes sterile, dehydrated, protected by a complex system of evasions and compromise, the real person who was meant to be reborn into Christ through total dedication and "undivided attention to the Lord" (! Cor 7:35) gone to earth from sheer lack of encourage-ment. Alternatively, the affective powers, instead of being stifled, may be diverted. Theu the celibate's life and pas-sion become centred on snbstitutes--liturgical niceties,. research, art, administration, power, antiqnes, aesthetics, sport, animals, relatives, or one other particular person. They may even become fixated on some such mundane and irreligious activity (if lie is a secular priest, for ex-ample, and free to follow it) as golf, racing, or dog-breed-ing. Or his passion may become raising monuments ostensibly to the glory of C, od but perhaps more to per-petnate his own memory (in lieu of sons and daughters of the flesh) if all hidden motives were made plain. The temptations to compromise over the demands of total love are ~nany and dangerous. The celibate is perhaps more open to them than the person whose vocation is marriage. In marriage, if it is a dedicated Christian one, total love is also demanded, but its channel is tile mar-riage partner, there in the flesh, obvious, defined and inescapable. For the celibate tile channel, being the hu-man family loved and served in, for, and by means of Christ, is much more easily mistaken, or silted up, or wrongly labeled, or simply ignored just because it is so ubi(jtfitous. The htunan family means not some nebulous abstract, but real persons whose abrasive presence anti perpetual demands cannot, and are not meant to be, evaded. In all cases it is people, individuals, persons, actnal living, pal-pitating entities who cannot be avoided, and who must be made contact with in some fructifying way if Christ is to be served and honored, if celibate love is to be fnl-filled. The whole of humanity is one organism, and this orga-nism is the Body of Christ in the process of being incar-nated. Through it we are meant to confer the sacrament of love upon one another. Through it we can, on the con-trary, by hate and sin shut off ourselves and others from participating in this sacrament of love. The consecrated celibate has cbosen by his vow to be a means of conferring the sacrament of love upon others. His role is to be a visible, actual sign that God's tender care and solicitous yearning for us is present among us, to be a reservoir of the living waters laid up in human hearts. The temptation to mediocrity suggests that this reser-voir be turned into a stagnant lake of sel~-enclosure by blocking off the Ebannels by which God's love pours into it and the outlets that are meant to pour it out again upon others. In time the whole place becomes "a fen of stagnant waters," with the affective powers choked: "They have abandoned me, the fountain of living waters, only to dig cisterns for themselves, leaky cisterns, that hokl no water" (Jer 2:13). To dig a cistern for oneself means to construct it with the intention of not sharing it with others. One form the temptation takes is that of doubts about the value of celibacy itself together with all kinds of rationalizations concerning the importance of human sexual relationships and of the need to experience them in order to be a whole person, in order even to be able to tmderstand others. Excuses are readily found for reading the kinds of books, watching the kinds of films, and encouraging the kinds of conversations that titillate and provide disguised --and not so disguised--sexual enjoyments.Iustifiable and necessary reverence for sex and acknowledgement 'of its power and wide ramifications give way to obsessive interest in its minutiae and manner of functioning. When snch a mental invasion has been encot, raged, the borderline between legitimate attainment of information and committing adnltery in one's heart has become blurred. The whole ideal of consecrated celibacy is in danger of becoming meaningless, and it will probably not be long before convincing excnses are found to abandon it. Also evident where mediocrity threatens is the "one for you, and one for me" trading mentality. The celibate considers that in .return for his gift of himself to God, God owes him certain satisfactions, comforts, consolations, snccesses, recognitions, rewards. If he does not get what he believes is his due he becomes sour, bitter, self-pitying, cynical, savagely critical (perhaps of the Chnrch as "a juridical institution"). He is a disappointed man who feels he has not been wdued and recognized at his true worth, and someone or something must be made to suffer for it. ÷ 4- ÷ /tlediocrity VOLUME 30, 1971 Barbara Dent REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 584 He has forgotten that the initial total gift of self to God was a form of interchange by which he accepted in return, and unquestioningly, whatever God chose to give him. Total love means embracing what God gives, and lets happen as the token of His loving kindness and the means of both one's salvation and sanctification, and also one's redemptive work for others. There is no barter involved. God gives. We accept, welcome, absorb, in faith and loving trust. There can be heroism here, unavoidable majesty of selflessness that can register on the ego as its contrary-- humiliation, defeat, squirming self-seeking. God's gifts and their effects are often paradoxical, and recognized as good qnly by means of faith. The "one for you, one for me" temptation is aimed at making one repndiate or avoid suffering and that death o~ self, that burying of the seed in the dark tomb of the earth fi'om which alone can emerge the risen self in the power of Christ's own Resurrection, and hence the crown-ing of total love. It is well to remember that "God's gift was not a spirit of timidity, but the Spirit of power, and love, and self-control" (2 Tim 1:7). There is also the temptation to succumb to mediocrity in personal relationships, avoiding intimacy and the pain of self-revelation and of receiving the confessions and love of others. In such relationships honesty is avoided in favor of polite half-trnths, soothing evasions, and surface agreements, these being rationalized as kindness or even Christian charity. Those blinding moments of truth in which we acknowledge how we use others (and they us), how we are run by our mechanisms of self-interest by which we feed secretly on those we profess to love most sincerely, are repndiated. Instead are chosen the sly pre-varications that assure us we are good mixers and not the type to give offense to anyone, and that this is the best way to he. Mediocrity can also be succumbed to in our relation-ship with ourselves. We have to love ourselves as God loves us, but this does not mean self-indulgently excusing ourselves. Rather it involves a pitiless self-honesty in which we pray fervently for the grace to face ourselves as we are. "My God, beware of Philip, else he will betray yon," prayed St. Philip Neri; and St. Paul saw with searing clarity his inability to do the good that he wanted to do unless he relied entirely upon the "grace of God." Consecrated celibacy with its vocation to total love means there can be no mediocrity regarding self-knowl-edge. If the truth that God offers, together with the grace to bear it, is accepted when and how He offers it, the ntmost interior humiliation is inevitable. Christ sets out to invade and permeate the life and the person dedicated to Him, and this means progressive insight into the un-christed self down to its demon-haunted depths. These depths have to be cleansed in what has aptly been called the "passive purgations," to' submit to which requires both a torrent of grace and heroic courage. It means the painful relinquishment of all masks, all comforting illusions, all evasions of reality, all dramas, all role-playing. Christ is truth. He is also light. Where He is, lies and darkness cannot also be; yet the unredeemed per-sonality is steeped in these. Total love becomes a reality only when heroic courage has refused the temptation to mediocrity in one's relation with onself, to choose instead Christ's invasion and powers of transformation at what-ever cost to oneself: If any man come to me without hating his father, mother, wife, children, brothers, sisters, yes and his own life too, he cannot be my disciple. Anyone who does not carry his cross and come after me cannot be my disciple (Lk 14:26-7). The mediocrity temptation also presents itseff as one to self-cosseting. Having renounced all the comforts of home life and the consolations of marriage, one has a right to pamper oneself a little here and there by way of compensation. There are legitimate pleasures, necessary relaxations, prudent concessions to one's own acknowl-edged weaknesses. The danger is when these are indulged in as a result of self-pity or a desire to make up to oneself for rennnciations once made but now secretly hankeretl after or envied in others. In other words, when we seek substitnte satisfactions for what is denied to us because of celibacy and the vocation to total love, we are compro-mising with that vocation. An old name for mediocrity is acedia, or spiritnal sloth. There is an old-fashioned ring about these terms which inclines some to dismiss them and what they stand for as irrelevant to modern life and post-Vatican II spiritnality. Yet Vatican II documents themselves affirm the ancient call to total love, and hence to a war against all forms of mediocrity: The followers of Christ are called by God, not according to their accomplishments, but according to his own purpose and grace . All the faithful of Christ of whatever rank or status are called to the fullness of the Christian life and to the perfection of charity (Church, 40). Hence the more ardently they unite themselves to Christ through a self-surrender involving their entire lives, the more vigorous becomes the life of the Church and the more abun-dantly her apostolate bears fruit (Religious Life, 1). Through virginity or celibacy observed for the sake of the kingdom of heaven, priests are consecrated to Christ in a new and distinguished way. They more easily hold fast to him with undivided heart. They more freely devote themselves in him 4- ÷ Mediocrity "VOLUME 30, 3.971 585 and through him to the service of God and man. They more readily minister to his kingdom and to the work of heavenly regeneration, and thus become more apt to exercise paternity in Christ, and do so to a greater extent (Priests, 16). Consecrated celibacy as a route to God can never be-come out of date because Christ will always remain the way, the truth, and the life, and intimate union with Him will always be a human being's highest form of fulfillment. The vocation to celibacy is a vocation to direct embrace-ment with the Bridegroom for the sake of the kingdom He became incarnate to establish. Those called to such a vocation are called also to total love of God and man and to an heroic battle against all temptations to mediocrity. God provides with the vocation all the graces necessary to endure and defeat these temptations, even when it ap-pears subjectively that failure is all that is achieved: The Spirit too comes to help us in our weakness. For when we cannot choose words in order to pray properly, the Spirit himself expresses our plea in a way that could never be put into words, and God who knows everything in our hearts knows perfectly well what he means, and that the pleas of the saints expressed by the Spirit are according to the mind of God. We know that by turning everything to their good God co-operates with all those who love him, with all those that he has called according to his purpose. They are the ones he chose specially long ago and intended to become true images of his Son, so that his Son might be the eldest of many brothers. He called those intended for this; those he called he justified, and with those he justified he shared his glory (Rm 8:28-30). Barbara Dent REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 586 SISTER MARY SERAPHIM, P.C.P.A. Living Creatively under Stress Stress, tensions, pressnres all tug and pull at ns day in and day out. We get up in the morning with a sense of having spent the whole night rnnning and getting no-where. Urgency clogs our steps. Clocks tick inexorably at us, staring clown from walls, peering up from dash boards, glowing in the clark on our wrists. Appointments, assignments, schedtdes rtde our clay and haunt our nights. Even when we manage to salvage a 15it of "free time," we spend it worrying whether we could not put it to more profitable use. This phenomenon of twentieth century living has provoked much discussion lately. Techniques for relaxing, drugs to tranquillize our shattered nervous system, systems of yoga and zen to lift us out of the present into a timeless nirvana glnt the common market. Despite this proliferation, I offer a few more insights, this time based on the experience of cloistered contemplative liv-ing, which might be of interest and assistance to us Chris-tians of pressurized society. Yon may have noticed that I said "us" of pressurized society, for cloistered ntms are just as apt to be canght in the bind of too "nauchwork" and not "enonghtime" as the rest of the human race. How then can a person who senses that life is meant for something more than just "to get things clone" work creatively within this fleeting thing called time? How can we escape the pressure to "do" in order to simply "be"? As most of ns have already discovered tension results, not from all the demands made upon us frorrtowithout, bnt from the pressures we generate w~thm Stress-~s not an evil in itself. It actually constitutes ~-positive good when it serves as a prod to move us to higher achieve-merits. The meeting and surmounting of difficulties is the normal process which leads to maturity. Most of the great inventions of the world would not have been discovered 4- 4- + Sister M. Sera-phim, P.C.P.A., is a member of Sancta Clara Monastery; 4200 Market Ave-nue N.; Canton, Ohio 44714. VOLUME 30, 1971 587 Sister Seraphim REVIEW FOR RE/I~II00S 588 unless there had been a need to overcome some inconven-ience or obstacle. Many of the great masterpieces of art, literature, and music might never have been executed had not the artist been forced by some circumstance to plumb the depth of his genius. Stress and difficulties have their positive side then; and we should not expect them to be totally absent from our lives, any more than we should, as Christians, expect the cross hot to cast its shadow across our days. The handling of the problem of stress can be ap-proached from many angles, such as the psychological, the sociological, the anthropological. However, I propose to utilize a more theological dimension without overlook-ing the necessity of integrating theological ideals with practical psychological data. Supernature and Nature As we know, grace builds on nature. Supernature is simply a highly developed, highly gifted operation which has its seat in our natural faculties. To be in a position to insure steady spiritual growth our natural faculties must be in as good working order as possible. Much insistence is laid today on the necessity of healthful and happy climates in our religious houses. The human in the conse-crated man or woman must be given consideration so that the whole person progresses in holiness. We have shifted from an overemphasis on the divine and spiritual aspect of our religious life to an almost exaggerated con-cern with the mundane and bodily elements in our daily existence. The movement away from a purely spiritual concept of religion was a necessary one. If we divorce our soul from its intrinsic relationship with our body, we are in clanger of becoming split-level creatures. We would end in the neurotic condition of perpetually ascending and descend-ing the staircase between onr "higher" mode of living and our "lower" bodily state of existing. Afraid to remain on only the lower plane, yet unable to live perpetually on the higher one, we would literally live on the stairway--a most unnatural and unrestful state of affair!! Now that we have acknowledged that we must stand firmly rooted on the ground-level of our huma.nity if we are to stretch our branches high, we must beware of spending too mnch time mulching the soil and preparing the proper amount of water and sunshine. It is undenia-bly true that good environment contributes heavily to the full development of the human creature. Yet if most of us are honest we must recognize that the majority of persons realize their finest potential when facing adverse condi-tions. Furthermore we know that there exists nowhere on earth a paradise of idyllic situations. To look for it is useless or to try to develop it will prove fruitless. We could spend a lifetime looking for the perfect siti~ation in which we could become our true selves. Since such a solution to the problem of stress and tension is chimeri-cal, we might do well to accept our present situation with its good and its bad and try to work creatively within it. I submit that if we can order our inner (spiritual) life to fnnction harmoniously with our "outer" life, we will have reduced the stress and tension in our days to a minimum. We Are Not God First of all, let us humbly admit that we are not God. We do not know the complete plan for our own exist-ence, much less that of others or of society as a whole. Obliged to work with only partial knowledge, we are not responsible for the barmonions ordering of the universe. Although as Christians we do have a responsibility to each and everyone of our fellowmen, yet as finite crea-tures our personal response is not expected to reach all of tfiem directly. Much which goes on in the world cannot and even should not be solved by us personally. We are asked to do what lays before ns to the best of our ability, nothing more. Does this sound like mere selfishness? Or simply common sense? Actually it can become very uncommon sense when we view it in God's perspective. He has a plan and a work for each one of ns. He weighed it beforehand to meet our limited strength. He measured our capacities to make sure they were adequate for the task at band. He is very careful not to ask more of us than He knows we are able to do. Why should we strive against Him and demand that we take care of situations and solve problems which are beyond our scope? Humility can be a very restful virtue. It teaches us to recognize what we are and what we are not. With its clear vision, we see our talents an~.l we recognize our limita-tions. We learn to look up to God for strength and for wisdom. The bumble man goes peaceftilly about his as-signed job and usually is able to make a good success of it because be does not waste a lot of psychic energy attempt-ing to solve difficulties that are not his to solve. He leaves all that is beyond his immediate scope to God's provi-dence. This does not mean, however, that he does not care. On the contrary, the person who really lives in the faith of God's guiding hand in the nniverse will care more effectively than many others who become so caught up in their own plans for reforming the world that they see nothing but themselves. ÷ ÷ ÷ Living Creatively VOLUME 30, 19T1 589 + 4. 4. Sister Seraphim REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 590 Power and Splendor We cannot help becoming immersed to the point of being enmeshed by our everyday problems if we concen-trate all our attention only on them. If we permit our prayer life to consist merely of begging God's assistance for the project in hand, it will be difficult to rednce the problems involved to manageable size because we will have magnified them to the point where they and God are the only realities in the universe. Instead we might do well to devote a good portion of our personal prayer time to considering the magnificence of God as He is in Him-self. If even for a fleeting, breathtaking moment we sense the grandeur and greatness of this Being whom we ad-dress as our Father, a moral earthquake occurs in our portion of the Lord's vineyard. Problems and vexations sink nearly out of sight for the time being and the ground we stand on raises us startlingly near to the stars. Huge becomes tlm universe, immense the (limensions of God's activity and small, very small onr share in this cosmic pageant. Such an intuition does not destroy our appreciation of the little things of life but rather enables ns to see them in their proper perspective. In such a setting their true beauty and value shine forth. We are free to "be" among all these encompassing wonders for inwardly we have expanded to the degree where we now encompass them. We learn to support the "horizontal" with the "vertical." St. Benedict, it is said, once saw the whole universe in a single ray of light. "How conld a man see all creation in one glance?" asked St. Gregory in his Dialogues and he answered himself: "He who sees God sees all things in Him." Do you perceive how integrating such an attitude can be and how beneficial to us as human beings if we culti-vate it? Tensions and difficnlties we meet will not become too large for us to handle and even nse creatively. With our minds free and onr energies concentrated fully on the task at band, we will bring to our work fresh insights and profound wisdom. New sources of energy will be released as we meet new obstacles. Instead of mentally attempting it all ourselves, we will take it to the Lord whose strength we know is equal to the task. While laying the bnrden of worry at His feet, we will be enabled to stand light and free before Him. God will grow greater and greater in our estimation and our problems proportionately smaller. When we attack the difficult situation which cannot be avoided we will be able to experience the tug and pull of contrary tensions without being shattered or torn apart. We will move in the conscious awareness that a power greater than our owu is at work here. That power, that strength, is a Person. It is a Person whom we profoundly love and whose Presence is onr supreme joy: "The joy of the Lord is our strength." An-other way of expressing this phenomenon is to call it growth in contemplative awareness. ~te utilize the prob-lems of the "lower story" to call down the assets of the "tipper story" of onr nature. XYe grow in stature so as to live spiritnally in the midst of materialities. All of this requires time and . tension. Until tension enters onr lives, we feel no need to become more than what we are. Until we find ourselves under the pressure of more than we can do, we will not experience the necessity of throw-ing ourselves on our knees before our sovereign Lord and looking humbly to His greatness. When His aid is vonchsafed, we shonld remain humble enough to use it in the manner He intended. A marvelons freedom marks the man who knows, in the roots of his being, that he is only the custodian and dispenser of the creative energy of ahnighty God. This man appears to accomplish tremen-dous things with serene ease. We do not know for certain but can gness that in the depths of his spirit, this man kneels in constant and hnmble supplication before His Lord. Before the shrine of this overmastering Presence, lie knows himself as nothing. In the light of this over-whelming Love, he knows himself heloved. In the strength of such love, nothing is impossible. Hope is in-vincible. Hope The virtue of hope here manifests itself as the trnst to leave the past and the future in God's hands. If we strive to live only here and now, we can eliminate much of the artificial stress which stretches our days beyond the limits of their twenty-four bonrs. How often have we not wor-ried ourselves into a stew abont possibilities which never materialized? Again, how frequently have we not fretted ourselves thin over past events which nothing can change now? The hope which is strong enough to le~ve the p~st to God's mercy, the future to His providence, and the present to His wisdomis a marvelous help to relaxed and fruitfnl living. We do not develop such hope overnight. Indeed we need many "nights," often painfully dark, be-fore our hope is refined to snch perfection. If we can view the dit:ficulties created in ourselves by tensions as so many stepping stones to hope, we have begun to work creatively with one of the most fi'ustrating aspects of our lives. We would like to be persons who do ~lot feel tension, who do not experience nerves, to whom nothing is a serious threat. But the more we strive to deny the deadening effects of anxiety and nervonsness in ourselves, the worse it becomes. We are humiliated by the 4- 4- 4- Living Creatively VOLUME 30, 1971 + + + Sister Seraphim REVIEW FOR RELiGiOUS 592 outward manifestations of our inner inadeqnacies. In-stead of humbly recognizing our human needs, we try even harder to suppress them. One (lay, however, we are forced to admit that we are practically "nnglned" and barely holding our sbattet~fd self togetber with rapidly weakening will power. Hopefully, such awareness occurs long before serious neurotic disturbances take over. We are still capable of being the master of our ship if we look to another to be the Captain. Quietly accepting the fact that tensions will wreck havoc with onr digestive or nervous or muscular system, we are in a position to work with them creatively. Reality recognized hecomes a pliable instrument in the hands of a thinking man. Reality unrecognized becomes a demon in the closet of the unconscions man. We need help to come to such recognition--God's help. He is the One who made us with these peculiar tendencies and weak-nesses. He Mone knows how ~'e are to work with them to accomplish His ends. Our task is not to augment ~the problem with useless imaginings. Tomorrow will bring its own problems., and its own solutions. Perhaps this interweaving of common sense and snper-natnral motives into a harmonious whole does not seem an extremely new or exciting solntion to. the problem of living creatively under stress. Yet it has proved a very workable one in the environment of the cloister. Few persons live in a situation so fraught with artificial ten-sions aud i,~grown perspectives as the cloistered nun. These dangers are what may be termed the "occupational hazards" of cloistered living. They are not reasons for dissolving cloisters, however! Almost any occupation, if it is worthwhile, carries with it certain hazards. The diffi-culties of living a celibate and consecrated life in the active religious orders are not valid reasons for doing away with religious life in the Church. Rather these very hazards can prove to be a most provocative challenge to yonng idealists. If we keep our vision broad and our feet steadfastly on ascending paths, the dangers will threaten bnt not overwhehn ns. Beauty One of the most closely allied natnral and snpernat-ural activities is the contemplation of beatlty. Beauty excites the noblest aspirations of human nature. On the natural plane, familiarity with beauty refines and purifies our sensitivities. We find in its contemplation a peculiar rest and contentment. Yet it rarely satiates. We forever bnnger for more. Onr thirst is ultimately for Beauty itself --the splendor of the undimnaed attractiveness of tbe Trinne God. God has placed in our souls a capacity for infinite loveliness. The passing beanties of this earth wound our sensibilities, with their constant fading and withering, instinctively we know that beauty is meant to last forever. To grow into a "see-er" of beauty is to de-velop a capacity for mystical contemplation. The hair-breadth line which separates them is easily and naturally crossed. If all human beings are made to respond to beauty, women are especially endowed with this reflective faculty. As Father Bernard H~ring remarks, "I think that women have a distinctive sense [or beauty in their spirituality. The great beauty of all created things consists in their being the language of a personal God" (Acting on the Word). Since women naturally "personalize" all the "things" they encounter, they spontaneonsly apprehend beauty as the speaking of the Beloved. The words may be mysterious but the Voice is well known. Development of our capacity for the appreciation of beauty does not reqnire special training. It only asks for time. Somehow we must learn to "take time for the good things of life." Instead of pressuring ourselves with a perpetual motion precept we should condition ourselves to moments of tranqnil stillness. We should strive to see time as primarily space in which to "be." Be what? Be ourselves. We discover who we are by becoming aware of our actions and reactions to persons, things, and events. If we foster the reaction of silent admiration before any source of loveliness, our contemplative self grows stronger. A new phenomenon unfolds within us. For a tiny moment there is silence--a quiet space in our spirit where we are nndistractedly absorbed in the immediacy of beauty. X,\re savor the loveliness of the moment and discover we are side by side, if not face to face, with eternal Beauty. If this quiet space within onr spirit is permitted to expand, it soon penetrates our exterior activity. Others become aware of a mysterious dimension in our personal-ity which attracts them. We exhibit a marked serenity and freedom. Whenever we find ourselves in situations of tension, we can more easily cope with them becanse of an inner strength fostered by habitually striving to integrate the transcendent with the mundane. This is not an unreal existence divorced from the concrete circumstances of our life. Rather it could very accurately be termed the "im-manent" level for we learn to penetrate to the deepest (and most beautiful) realities of all the surface phenom-ena we meet. Contemplative living is the result of striv-ing for h;fl)itual attentiveness to natural beauties. In the cloistered contemplative life, beauty plays an extremely important role. Much rethinking should be done in this area. Education to the appreciation of good art is of only minor ir.,portance. The more important 4- 4- 4- Living Creatively VOLUME 30, 1971 593 thrust should be towards the recognition of deeper and more lasting loveliness hidden in every atom of creation. The contemplative is a person who withdraws from the world only to view it more comprehensively. Such a one distances himself from worldly turmoil in order to pene-trate its inner significance. His should be a thoroughly optimistic, thoroughly Christian outlook. The fleetingness of beauty teaches him forcefully that man is only a pilgrim on earth. The infinite longing of his spirit for beauty proves to him the necessity of an everlasting Loveliness. Made for eternal splendors, finite man is forever restless in time. He longs for the repose of unchanging possession. Freed from the impossible task of finding complete fulfillment in the present situation, he experiences no false tensions. Set loose from the obsession that he must order the universe aright, he does not writhe in the stress of too little time and too much work. He pauses momentarily before the passing beauties of time and permits them to enkindle his spirit with the desire of everlasting splendors. Then freely, gaily he walks on, bearing the burdens of mankind but lightly for the joy of the promise set before him. 4- 4- 4- Sister Seraphim REVIEW FOR RELI{~IOUS 59,t CHRISTOPHER KIESLING, O.P. Celibacy, Friendship, and Prayer In recent decades, and especially since Vatican Council II, the potentialities of marriage for holiness and prayer have gained the attention of many Christians. Young peo-ple desirous of following Christ closely are less inclined to enter religious life or the priesthood. They are apt to choose a more adventurous following of Christ to holi-ness through the largely uncharted land of marriage. Many already living the celibate life wonder whether they have chosen the "better" way to holiness after all. In marriage they could have the natural fulfillment of their God-given sexuality and at the same time zealonsly follow Christ. Marriage, no doubt, complicates the following of Christ, but the history of the priesthood and religious life in the centuries of the Cht~rch's existence testifies that celibacy by. no means guarantees a Christlike life. Mar-riage, moreover, in daily care for spouse and children, provides many opportunities for growth in charity. As far as prayer is concerned, no intrinsic incompatibility exists between marriage and prayer; in fact, marriage offers many spurs to growth in prayer. The celibate life, on the other hand, certainly does not automatically produce a deep life of prayer. What, then, is the value of the celibate life for prayer? What potentialities for growth in prayer are found in celibacy? The question is not whether celibate life is better for prayer than married life, or the single state, or widow-hood. No attempt is being made here to discover possibil-ities for prayer in the celibate life superior to the possibil-ities in any other state of life. Each state of life has its own opportunities for growth in prayer, and any at-tempts to compare the opportunities of celibacy with those of any other state will always be limited and ulti-mately of little practical value. Comparisons fail because + ÷ Christopher Kies-ling, O.P., is a fac-ulty member of Aquinas Institute School of Theology in Dubuque, Iowa 52001. VOLUME 30, 1971 595 C. Kiesling, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ,596 they imply some standard of judgment, for example, free-dom from family demands and concerns. In this perspec-tive, celibacy has an adwmtage over marriage in regard to prayer, for the celibate has more time free from family claims and few, if any, family responsibilities to occupy his thonghts. But another standard of jndgment may be awareness of the needs of others which prompts one to pray. By this norm, a husband or wife, a father or mother, has an advantage over the celibate, for the bonds of marriage and parenthood make oue especially sensitive to the needs of at least a few persons for whom one is inspired to pray. Comparisons fail also because generali-zations abont life are open to many concrete exceptions. In coutrast to the generalizations made above, some older married people have more time and freedom for prayer than celibates who are teaching, and some celibates are more sensitive to the needs of others tban some married people. So the concern here is not to prove that the celibate is in a better position to grow in prayer than the person who is in some other state of life. It is not even of con-cern whether the possibilities for prayer in the celibate life are unique to it. The aim is simply to explore the opportunities for prayer given in the celibate life, so that celibates may exploit them fully. The discernment and exploitation of the potentialities for prayer in other states of life is preferably done by those living in them. The question is not co~lceived, moreover, as a search for a reason why someone should.choose the celibate life or remain faithful to it. The inquiry is regarded, rather, as a help to those inclined or commited to celibacy, so that they may take advautage of the gift which God has given tbena or now offers them. The celibate life is not the product of reasoning. Celi-bates are a fact in the history of the Church up to this moment. These men and women have entered upon, and continue in, this way of life for many reasons of a per-sonal nature, rather than from any theoreti'cal ideas abont the valne of celibacy. Temperament, character for-mation, family life, environment, edu.cation, interests and talents, particular interpersonal relationships, and uniqne interior experiences explain their celibate lives. When initially inclined to this state of life, or after adopting it, they undoubtedly welcome theoretical ideas about its value to legitimize or justify their choice. But the motives for their choice are much more complex and deeply buried in individnal history than any rational justifications. The believing Christian, of conrse, sees a religious meaning in all these factors: they fall under the loving care of a provident God and constitute a divine vocation to the celibate life. That life is ultimately a charism, a gift, from God. Without His call realized in personal history, there is no authentically religious celibate life. The inspiration of the celibate life is the Holy Spirit calling one through one's personal history, not some ra-tional demonstration of the superiority of the celibate state over other states of life. Celibacy is a mysterious gift. The aim here, therefore, is to explore the potentialities for prayer in a state of life ,~hich many find God has already given to them, or which many feel God wishes to give to them. For the success of that God-given life, at whatever stage it is, the exploitation of its potentialities is imperative, and particularly its possibilities for growth in prayer. Having put one's hand to the plow (or having reached toward it), and perhaps even having pushed it partly across the field of life, one does not wish to be looking back to weigh the advantages of this state of life against those of another state; one wishes, rather, to get busy actualizing the potentialities for prayer in the life which God has already given or begnn. The potentialities of celibacy for growth in prayer may be seen as residing radically in celibacy's exclusion from one's life of an intimate companion such as one has in a marriage partner. The celibate may indeed have very close friends, bnt the closeness of friends is not the same as the intimacy of marriage. He will not have some one person with whom be shares, in mutual loyalty, a joint responsibility and care for the development of life, fam-ily, and the world in fulfillment of God's vocation to mankind. He will not have another person closely united to him in daily life to alleviate the loneliness which haunts human beings. He will not have someone at hand whose fidelity be can count on, with whom he can frankly talk over many of Iris worries, aspirations, and satisfac-tions, and in whose presence he can be himself, setting aside the masks he must wear and the roles he must play in business and society. Nor will he have some one person for whom he can create and build and provide, whom he can cherish and protect, knowing that his care and con-cern are welcomed and appreciated. And of course he will have no one with whom he can express all his powers of love, including the physical,t This description of what a wife provides for her hns-band may sound romantic rather than realistic, or indica-tive of neurotic needs in the husband. We do not wish to be romantic about what marriage provides. Marriage is fundamentally an arrangement for living in which man a These reflections are cast in terms of the male celibate because that is the experience which the author knows from the inside, so to speak. What is said, however, will be applicable, with appropriate "adjustments, to the celibate woman. + + + Celibacy VOLUME 30, 1971 597 + + + C. Kiesling, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 598 and woman can have the full natural development of their sexed humanity.2 Marriage, more6ver, is more likely to be successful and happy if the partners are not merely satisfying subjective needs by means of one another but, being somewhat matnre, secnre, and capable of standing on their own feet, are free to care for one another's welfare? What we wish to note by this description of what a wife provides for her husband is tbat his life is enriched by intimate companionship with another per-son. To say that in marriage one's life is enriched by an-other person does not mean that a marriage partner is a crutch for personal weaknesses or a pleasant bnt unim-portant trimming added to one's life. What the marriage partner provides is essential for personal matnrity. A common theme of contemporary psychology, psychiatry, and philosophy is that to become mature persons we mtlSt interact with other persons, and mnst even have some intimate relationships with others. 0nly through interaction with other persons, and through some inti-mate interactions, do we come to awareness of our own unique selves with our pecldilu" qnalities, good, bad, and indifferent. Only through such interaction do we learn to master our constructive and aggressive drives and direct them to personally and socially beneficial goals. Through interpersonal relationships we acquire that freedom of self-possession which is characteristic of man. So a mar-riage partner provides, not a supplement for personal inadequacies or for pleasanmess of life, but a comple-ment necessary for the achievement of personal maturity. Briefly, to be mature persons we need other persons in our lives and even some intinaacy with others. For most men and women this need is supplied largely, though not necessarily exclnsively, by naarriage. The celibate, how-ever, excludes marriage from his life and thereby ex-clndes the common means of developing personal matu-rity. Herein lies both the peril and the opportunity of the celibate life. If the celibate's potentialities for personal matm'ity are unfnlfilled, lie will become a dull non-en-tity, if not a disgruntled, nenrotic, nnltappy person. If these potentialities are not sublimated, he will be in-clined to abandon the celibate life for marriage. The celibate must have other persons in his life, even inti-mately, if lie is to become a mature person and give himself its a full human being to God. Where will lie find these other persons? He will find them in friendships, first of all with God 2Sce Aron Krich with Sam Blum, "Marriage and the Mystique of Romancc," Redbook, November 1970, p. 123. sScc Erich Fromm, The Art o[ Loving (New York: Bantam, 1963), p. 17. the Father, His incarnate Son, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit, and then also with other human beings. Intimate friendship with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit will be realized in prayer, and friendships with people will ma-ture in prayer. Thus celibacy, by excluding an intimate relationship with another person such as one has in mar-riage, yet leaving the need for personal relationships and even some intimacy, creates two great potentialities for prayer: the potentiality for prayer in the need to develop intimate friendship with the three divine Persons of the Trinity, and the potentiality for prayer in the need to develop friendships with people. Celibacy creates in one's life a vact~um which craves to be filled. For a mature personality, for happiness, and for a truly successful celi- I)ate life, the wise celibate fills this vacuum with intimate personal relations to the F:tther, Son, and Spirit and with hun~an friendships. Filling the vacut~m in these ways in-volves prayer. We will consider the possibility for growth in prayer first in relating personally to God and then in establish-ing friendships with people. A married man who, in the course of the day, has experienced failure, disappointment, or hnrt can un-ashamedly recount his tale of woe to his wife that evening. She can console him and make love with him and so ease his pain and restore his self-confidence, so that he can go on with life. The celibate has no person who can do all th;~t for him in the way a wife can. He is usually forced, therefore, if he wishes consolation and restoration, to seek them in prayer to God. The same holds true for the expression of joy. The married na~n can recount his suc-cesses and tritmiphs to his wife who will consider them as her own, share his happiness, and reward him, so to speak, by m:~king love with him. The celibate will have to turn to God in prayer for comparable satisfaction in the expression of joy. The married man does not have to make all serious decisions and bear their consequences alone. Fie makes many of them with his wife and can count on her loyal support in the conseqnences that fol-low. The celib;~te has no one who can so closely cooperate with him in making decisions and in living with their consequences. He will have to find help and support in God in prayer. All this tells us something about wh:lt prayer should be for the celibate. It should be an encounter with a per-sonal God, with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as per-sons. The celibate must cnltivate a sense of the person-hood of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. He cannot afford to allow God to remain some distant, impersonal force behind the universe and his life. The three divine Persons mnst become genuine persons for him to relate 4- 4- + Celibacy VOLUME 30, 1971 ,'599 + + + C. Kiesling, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 600 to, even as a man's wife is a person for him to relate to. Of course, the divine Persons are not persons in exactly the same sense as a human person. But°divine person-hood includes what is most essential to personhood as we know it in human beings. It includes a knowing,, loving, caring subject who can sympathize and can act to help oue. Important in the life of the celibate, then, is the cnltiva-tion of a sense of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as genuine persons in his life, as truly as a man's wife is a person in his life. This cultiw~tion will be accomplished " through various forms of prayer. It will be done by meditative reading of the Scriptures through which the celibate will discover and appreciate more and more how truly the Father, His incarnate Son, Jesus Christ, and Their Spirit are knowing, loving, sym-pathetic, caring, belpfnl persons relating themselves to men in their sorrows and joys. Tbrongb familiarity with the Scriptures, the celibate will disceru that he, iudividu-ally, with his good and bad qualities, is accepted uncondi-tioually by the Father, even as the prodigal son was by Iris f;ither, th:~t he is loved by Christ, even as the woman taken in adultery was, and that he is supported by the Holy Spirit who deigns to dwell in him as his constant companion. Also important for the. celibate is the practice of the presence of God, that is, the effort to be aware of, and respond to, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as personally present to him. Personal presence is not merely physical proximity. In regard to God~ it means not only that He is near the celib:lte to snstain his being and activity. It means also that be is in God's thoughts and affection. The practice of the presence of God, the heart of mental prayer, is awareness of God's personal presence and re-sponse to it by holding God in one's own thoughts and affection. Bnt we should be more precise and speak of the presence of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The Chris-tian God is threefold in person. What must he cnltivated is awareness of, and response to, these three Persons pres-ent in one's life. Through various forms of prayer, the celibate mnst become as mt, tually personally present to the three divine Persons as a man is mntnally personally present to his wife, thougl~, of course, the former presence will always be in the obscurity of faith. Because the presence of the Trinity is realized only in faith, it is difficult to have a sense of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as genuine persons in one's life. Besides, the persons of the Trinity are not like hmnan persons: unlike a man's wife, they are not bodily beings, visihle, andible, tangible. They do not talk back to the celibate immedi-ately, as does a man's wife, bnt answer him only through his search into revelation, the signs of the times, and his own peculiar situation. Bnt through the humanity of Jesus, the personal being of God is clearly revealed; with-out question God understands and sympathizes with us in our miseries anti joys, anti He accepts us despite our limitations anti failings. Through communion with the person Jesus Christ, the celibate learns also to recognize the Father anti the Spirit as genuine persons in his life. Christ's presence in the Eucharist is a further help to the celibate in relating to God personally. The Son of God incarnate lays hold of bread and wine and trans-forms them so that they are no longer bread and wine, except in appearance, but Himself for men. Thereby He is personally present to the celibate not only spiritually, by thought and affection, but also concretely, spatially, and temporally (though through'the mediation of the appearances of the consecrated elements), as a man's wife is present to him. It remains only for the celibate to respond to this most intense anti full personal presence of God in Christ by sacramental communion or by a "visit" to Christ in the Eucharist. Foolish is the celibate who never turns to Christ in the Blessed Sacrament for conso-lation in sorrow or for the sharing of joy. On the part of God, Christ in the Eucharist is the most concrete realiza-tion of the presence of God in the celibate's life. Com-munion with Christ in the Sacrament is analogous to the commnnion which a husband has with his wife as they embrace. It may be objected that the Christian married man also lntlst develop a sense of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as krxowing, loving, and caring persons in his life if he is to progress in holiness and prayer. There are times when lie will not have his wife at hand to snpport him anti share with him; anti even when she is at hand, there are needs and experiences which he cannot fully share with her, as mnch as lie may try and she may be willing. On these occasions lie must turn to Father, Son, anti Holy Spirit in prayer. It is even more obvious that the single man and the widower also are invited to relate to the Father, Son, anti Holy Spirit as genuine persons in their lives. In answer it may be said that it makes no difference to the celibate if others are called to an intimate friendship in prayer with the three divine Persons. hnportant for the celibate is the fact that, in Go'd's gift to him of celi-bacy, there is a great potentiality for prayer opened tip to him. Whether or not others have a similar potentiality for prayer is not nearly :is important as his making the most of the potentiality which has been given to him. Yet the celibate's situation is different from most other men's. The married man does have a wife in whom lie + + + Celibacy VOLUME 30, 1971 601 + ÷ + C. Kiesling, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 602 can often and at least partially fulfill his need for inti-mate personal relationship. The single man can marry. The widower, if his faith is vigorous and vivid, can enjoy the spiritual presence of his wife, whose life has not ended with death but changed; he can also remarry. The celibate, in virtue of his vow, is without any of these possibIe means of satisfying his need for intimate per-sonal relationship. In times of need, he cannot turn to any of these possibilities but is compelled, as it were, to turn immediately to God. The celibate should rejoice that a potentiality for prayer which is a normal part of his life as a result of God's gift of celibacy is also bestowed on others by the circumstances of their lives. He should develop a keen sense of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as persons in his life to whom he intimately relates, so that he can help his fellow men do the same thing for the times in their lives when they need it. This is one way in which he serves as an example of Christian life and as a help to his fellow Christians in other states of life. The call of the celibate to turn in prayer to Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as genuine persons in his life for personal fulfillment tells us something about the content of prayer. One is inclined to think of prayer as saying "nice" things to God or thinking edifying thoughts in His presence. To pray is to recall God's wonderful works for men in the history of salvation. It is to praise God for His power, wisdom, and providence and to thank Him for .Jesus Christ and the gift of the Spirit. It is to express faith, hope, and charity in His regard. It is to have beau-tiful tl~oughts inspired by passages in Scripture or in spiritual books of meditation. It is to pray for the salva-tion of souls, for the growth of the Church, for the Pope and bishops, for health and holiness. As the content of prayer, all this is excellent. But if this is all that one ever regards as appropriate content for prayer, it may be doubted that one very often prays with the deep conviction and feeling with which the Psalmist or Jeremiah or Jesus prayed. If we turn again to the married man, we can get some idea of further and more realistic content for the prayer of the celibate. Marriage provides for the support and fulfillment of the married man because be has another person to whom be can unburden his soul. He does not talk to his wife only about beautiful and inspiring things. He does not always praise and thank her. The concerns which be ex-presses to bet are not limited to the general needs of mankind or society. He sometimes speaks to her about his doubts, his anger, his pity, his misery. He sometimes com-plains about her household management. Out of sincere admiration and gratitude, he sometimes congratulates her for a delicious meal or for a well-planned dinner party. To her he expresses deep emotions of fear, grief, hostility, hope, and joy, without fear that he will be rejected or tl~ougbt silly. He expresses to her his carnal desire for her. With his wife he is himself, lets himself go, and discovers what is in himself. As the married man expresses himself to his wife, the celibate expresses himself to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. In prayer the celibate talks to God about his doubts and convictions, his misery and his happiness. To God be rehearses his dislikes and hatreds, knowing that God will not condemn him but will heal his hostilities or at least help him live with them in a way which will not harm him or others. He vents his disappointments, his hurts, his aspirations, his feelings of triumph, without feeling that God will think him damnable or vain but, on the contrary, will go on loving him the more for opening his beart to Him. He tells God bow annoyed he is by his snperior or how vexed he is that his plans for the summer have been thwarted. He tells God about the happy visit he had that clay with a clear friend or about the program which he directed with remarkable success. He thanks God for the many blessings He has bestowed and complains to Him about His designs for him now. In a word, the celibate's prayer is not only saying things to God which one is expected to say to Him, as one is expected to say certain things to a bishop, or a superior, or the president of the United States. A married man does not find support and fulfillment in married life by telling his wife only those things which are expected in some romantic notion of marriage, but by telling her what is really in his mind and heart. So the celibate prays authentically to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit by ex-pressing to Them what is trnly in his mind and heart, whether it is beautiful or ugly. In this way he discovers himself through prayer to the three divine Persons. It should be noted that it is not mere self-expression that leads to self-discovery, but self-expression to which there is a response from another self. A husband's expres-sion of himself evokes a response from his wife; she ex-presses herself in silence or in words, favorably or unfa-vorably, admitting and accepting or challenging and re-fusing what her husband has presented. A husband's wife "talks back" in various ways. Dialogue between two per-sons arises. As a result of the exchange, the "truth" emerges into the light: what sort of person each is, what motivates each, strong and weak points of character. This truth about the self may not be recognized in the conrse of the exchange but only afterwards as one reflects on what happened in it. Nor does the whole truth emerge from one dialogue. It is only tbrongh repeated dialogue ÷ ÷ ÷ Celibacy VOLUME 30~ 3.971 603 + ÷ ÷ C. Kiesling, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 604 over the course of time tbat a husband understands him-serf better, acquires some self-possession, and thus ma-tures. The analogous relation between husband and wife on the one hand and, on the other, the celibate and the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit appears to break down at this point. The Persons of the Trinity do not talk back. But they do! The three divine Persons talk back in reve-lation, in the external circnmstances of the celibate's life, and in his internal condition. In revelation, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit express the sort of persons they are, their motives, their designs. As a husband has to adjust himself to his wife as he discovers her to be through their dialogue together, the celibate must adjust himself to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Important for the celibate, then, is his continual searching in revelation, especially as found in the Scriptures, for God's response to what is in his mind and in his heart. In the external circum-stances of his life (where and with whom he lives, the duties he has, the claims made on him by others) and in his internal condition (his strengths and weaknesses of character, his interests and talents, his fears and hopes), God also talks back to the celibate. The celibate must adjust himself to these circumstances and conditions which divine providence has imposed or permitted. By examining his thoughts, feelings, desires, and activities in the light of revelation and the circumstances and condi-tions of his life in prayer to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, the celibate, over a period of time, discovers more and more of the truth about himself. This truth makes him free, makes him a mature human person. I[ prayer is the expression to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit of all the celibate's thoughts and feelings, the "not-nice" ones as well as the "nice" ones, then prayer will not be limited to neat little times of prayer punctuating the (lay. The celibate can be personally present to the three divine Persons while he is walking down the street, tak-ing a shower, or dropping off to sleep at night. Moreo-ver, it is during just such times when he is alone and involved in activities which do not engage his mind very mnch, that he finds himself rehearsing in his mind and imagination his resentments, disappointments, failures, pleasures, and achievements. Dnring these times he has an opportunity for prayer. All that is required is the recognition that he is in the presence of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit and the wish that They hear his recital of woe or happiness. The celibate will welcome times set aside for prayer, for then he will have the opportunity to express more fully his thoughts and feelings to the three divine Per-sons. He will have an opportunity to ask Them to forgive him for the wrong he has discovered in himself and to help him persevere in the good which he has found. He will welcome more formal and objective liturgical prayer, or spontaneous prayer in a group, for in some words of the liturgy or some words of a fellow Christian, there is the possibility that God's response to his self-expression will finally come: God will at last talk back. The dia-log. ue between the celibate and God will be consummated and the celibate will discern the truth about himself. God will not talk back to the celibate every time he engages in common prayer, liturgical or informal, but certainly on some occasions God's word will be there for him. Conse-quently, he will not neglect such prayer lest he miss the word of God which is meant just for him. When this word comes fi'om God in common prayer, it will continue to resound in his mind and heart as he goes his way, a new man, knowing himself better, more free, more ma-tllre. Real prayer is not always pretty. It is a cry to God in anguish or anger. Real prayer is not dispassionate. It is a song of gladness and triumph. It purifies because it places before a loving Father, Son, and Holy Spirit both what is ngly and what is beautiful in one's life. Coupled with the response of the three divine Persons, it leads to dis-covery of one'~ self, freedom, maturity, and personal ful-fillment. Celibacy creates a condition which calls for snch prayer with special urgency. Snch prayer is necessary in every state of life, but it is especially necessary for the celibate if lie is to achieve personal maturity, for lie has excluded from his life the ordinary means of achieving that maturity through the intimate interpersonal rela-tionship of marriage. The second great potentiality for prayer in the celi-bate's life resides in the need to develop human friend-ships. Tills.potentiality for prayer will be considered in the second part of this article. The first part of this article considered the first great potentiality for prayer in the celibate life, namely, the need to develop an intimate, truly personal friendship with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, analogous to the relationship which a man and woman have in marriage. The second great potentiality for prayer in the celibate life resides in the need to develop human friendships. We begin exploration of this potentiality by noting different kinds of fi'iendship in the celibate's life. The first sort of friendship is toward those people with whom the celibate ordinarily lives, works, and recreates. The second class is toward those few people with whom lie shares particular views, interests, and wdues. The third kind of friendship is toward those persons to whom he is strongly attracted because they especially satisfy his + + + Celibacy VOLUME 30, 1971 605 + + + C. Kie~ling, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 606 particnlar subjective needs for certain other persons in his life. In the case of the first sort of friendship, the name "friend" is used in a very broad sense. The "associate" expresses more literally the relationship wlficb the celi-bate has with people in this first class of friendship. These people are his associates in daily work, meals, rec-reation, and prayer. With them he shares some general views, interests, and values, and be "gets along" with them. His interaction with them provides some personal support and happiness, but they do not satisfy some of his deeper, unique, human, and personal needs. lu this first group is included a subclass of associates to whom the celibate relates only with difficulty, perhaps even in continual conflict. Bnt such people are not strangers to him nor he to them; they know one another better than they know the clerk at the store or the passen-ger they meet on the plane. They "associate" with one an-other daily or very fi'cqucntly in w~rious activities. Inter-action with these people plays an important role in the celibate's personal development and pursuit of happiness. The name "friend" applies quite well to people in the second class of friendship, though here we will call them "good friends" to distinguisla them from friends of the first and third kind. The celibate particularly enjoys the company of his good friends and feels especially at ease with them. He feels free to express to them his opinions ~n(l feelings about many things because he knows that they will be respected and accepted. Most of the time, with most of these people, however, be will not express his most intimate thoughts and feelings about some things, and especially abot, t himself and them. The bond here is not mutu;d attraction to, and interest in, one another, but particular views, interests, and values which they bold in common. Witbont some good friends, the celibate may find life difficult. He will more likefy feel the pain of loneliness which the first kind of friends, associates, only superfi-cially alleviates. It is even possible that without some good fiiends he may develop neurotic tendencies, for he will not express to sympathetic listeners many thoughts and feelings, especially of hostility or discouragement, that would better be brought out into the open, lest, being confined within, they produce depression or mor-bidity. "Friend" is a rather pallid name for people in the third class of fiiendship. These people we will call "close friends" to distinguish them from associates and good friends. From the first sort of friend, the celibate parts with equanimity and, in some cases, relief; fi'om the sec-ond sort, with regret; from the third, with great reluc- tance and even anguish. If a close friend suffers misfor-tune, the celibate's own life is upset, perhaps to distrac-tion and disorientation; he finds it difficult to go on tran-quilly with his ordinary duties. It is as if be himself suffered the misfortune. Close friends are most truly "other selves." The celibate is interested in his close friends, not simply in their views and values, but in them, their innermost thoughts and feelings, their physi-cal, mental, and spiritual welfare. To them he reveals his deepest thoughts and feelings, his doubts, convictions, and emotions, confident of their affection (not just re-spect) and their loyalty toward him. He is more or less emotionally involved with them. in them he finds fulfill-ment of his need for intimacy with persons. They are surrogates for the marriage partner which he has ex-cluded from his life. Sonie celibates cannot live well-balanced, full, and happy lives without one or more close friends. Others can, though they will lack sympathetic understanding for some experiences of the human heart. On tile other hand, every celibate's life can be imlnensely enriched by close friendship, even though lie may not absolutely need it for persoual maturity and contentment. The celibate's friends of all three kinds may be men or women. One and the same person may be a friend in one or more of these three ways. Thus the celibate may be strongly attracted to a member of his local community with whom he finds particular compatibility in likes and concerns. On tile other hand, he may find such compati-bility or such personal attraction or both in someone with whom lie rarely associates. This typology of friendships in the celibate's life has, of course, the limitations of every typology. It is an at-tempt to find some intelligible pattern in the infinite variety, complexity, and fluidity of life. Actual friend-ships will approximate one or another type, sometimes partaking of characteristics of more than oue type. The whole matter is complicated further in actual life by the fact that tile celibate and a certain friend may not re-spond to one another in the same class of friendship; lie may regard as a close frieud someone who looks upon him as simply a good friend. Hence one may find that one's own experiences of friendship do not fit neatly into this or that category of the typology that has been pre-sented. In spite of its inadequacies, this typology serves to sug-gest that some o~ the celibate's friendships will not be very problematic, while others will; some will evoke re-sponses from him beyond what be expects and is immedi-ately prepared for and thus will demand growth in per-sonal matnrity. Compatible associates and good friends + + + Celibacy VOLUME 30, 1971 607 + ÷ C. Kiesling, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 608 are usually taken for granted. They are lubricants, so to speak, which make the wheel of life turn easily. They do not make very great demands on the celibate but make it possible for him to bear with the demands of life which come from other sources. Relating to irritating associates or to close friends, on the other hand, is not easy. Relating to irritating associates is difficult because of the conflict of personalities. Relating to close friends is arduous because strong instinctual drives, powerful emo-tions, deep personal needs, and wish-fulfilling illusions are involved, and because the focus of attention is not the stable, objective mntual interests and activities shared by good friends, but the person of the close friend, a free agent, susceptible to moods, hence often falling short of expectations, and ultimately a mystery, as every human person is. In attempting to develop these two kinds of friendship, the celibate discovers his limitations and is driven toward prayer to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit for help. Hence these two sorts of friendship may be said to contain more conspicuous potentialities for growth in prayer than the other kinds of friendship. Actual instances of these two difficult sorts of friend-ship are infinitely varied by circumstances. The difficulty in relating to an annoying associate may be due to nor-real differences of temperament and character or to neu-rotic traits in one or both. The irritating associate may be a superior or a peer, or may be someone with whom the celibate lives elbow to elbow or someone with whom he deals only in his work. The person toward whom the celibate feels drawn in close friendship may be a man or woman, celibate, single, or married, frequently or only occasionally in his company. Becanse actual instances of these two kinds of friend-ship are so different fi'om one another, to speak of the potentialities for prayer in them in general would not be very helpful. Hence, we will restrict ourselves to explor-ing the potentialities for prayer in a close friendship of the (male) celibate with a woman, also dedicated to celi-bacy, whom he sees only occasionally; it will also be as-sumed that both persons are firm in their dedication to the celibate life. From this single instance, one can gain some idea of what it means to speak of the potentialities for prayer in friendship. One can then explore on one's own the possibilities for prayer in one's own difficult hnman relationships. In a close friendship of the kind stipulated, the celibate finds pleasure, satisfaction, and joy. Deep cisterns of sex-ual, human, and personal needs are filled to brimming with cool, fi'esh water. Life becomes extraordinarily beau-tiful in the present and rich in possibilities for the future. He marvels at the qualities he discovers, one after the other, in Iris friend and at the total uniqueness and mys-tery of her being. In her presence, life assumes a timeless, eternal quality. Particular words and actions are lost to view in the more comprehensive awareness of the inter-personal presence which they mediate; just being to-gether is more significant than anything said or done. Because of tiffs friendship, the whole of life and the world receive a new interpretation and meaning. A frequent form of prayer found in the Bible is praise of God in thanksgiving for his gifts of creation and salvation.4 The Bible contains countless joyful songs (Psahns and Canticles) in which God is praised and thanked by simply reciting in His presence the beauty and awesomeness of creation and His wonderful works of salvation on behalf of His people or individt, als. In the pleasure, satisfaction, and joy which the celibate finds in Iris friendship, there is inspiration for praise of God and thanksgiving to Him for what gives so much happy ful-fillment. As he rehearses to himself the wonderfulness of his experience and of the loved one--be can scarcely avoid doing tbis~he has only to place himself in the presence of God and add to his rehearsal, in a spirit of gratitude, acknowledgment to God for His gift. Knowing experientially what it means to break out in praise and thanksgiving to God for one gift so keenly appreciated, the celibate more readily values the prayers of praise and thanksgiving for other gifts of God (some of them, in the final analysis, far more itnportant than his friendship) which constitute so much of the liturgy. He welcomes a period of mental prayer, for it provides time to recount before God, in thankft, l praise, the joys of his friendship. But there is also the pain of separation--the anguish of parting and the ache of being apart. What does the cell bate do with this pain? He nnites it with the pain of Christ on the cross-and thus makes it, not an inexplicable dead-end, but redemptive and life-giving. He does this in tl~ought whenever be feels the pain with particular acute-hess, but be does it also when be offers himself to God in, with, and through Christ in His unique offering of Him-self and all mankind on Calvary rendered sacramentally present in the celebration of the Eucharist. The pain of separ~tion is grist [or the miil of t, nion with Christ in suffering and death, even as the joy of presence antici-pates the joy of sharing in the resurrection of Jesus. Through the pain and joy of friendship, the celibate ~Sce T. Worden, The Psalms Are Christian Prayer (New York: Sbccd and Ward, 1961), for an excellent analysis of tbc Psalms and other prayers in Scripture as basically praise (thanksgiving) or lamen-tation (petition, hope, confidence). Both kinds, especially the first, have been carried over into the Christian liturgy, with modifica-tions. Both arc exemplary for private prayer. ÷ ÷ + Celibacy VOLUME .:30, 1971 609 C. Kiesling, O.P. REVIE

Issue 25.2 of the Review for Religious, 1966. ; Sanctification through Obedience by Charles A. Scldeck, C.S.C. 161 Decree on the Eastern Catholic Church~ by Vatican Council II 235 The Church's Holiness and Religious Life by Gustave Martelet, ~q.J. 246 Division of a Province by Albert A, Reed, C.PP.S. 269 The Young Religious and His Poverty by William M. Barbieri, S.J. 288 Religious Rule and Psychological Development by John W. Stafford, G.S.V. 294 Obedience and Subsidiarity by Kevin D. O'Rourke, O.P. 305 Religious Censorship of Private Communications by James Gaffney, S.J. 314 Survey of Roman Documents 320 Views, News, Previews 324 Questions and Answers 330 o Book Reviews 335 CHARLES A. SCHLECK, C.S.C. Sanctification through bedi en ce In the mind of the early Christians the practice of obedience was always considered as somehow or other essential, as necessarily included in their response to God's prevenient redeeming love. A study of the New Testament would reveal that obedience was seen as col-lective; it was an obedience that centered around the submission of the Ghurch to Christ. The members' of the Church, the earthly body of the glorified Christ, were on a voyage during which they were called upon to obey their guide, Christ speaking to them especially through the authorities he had established in the Church.x They considered themselves to be under the authority of the new commandment of charity, such that the accomplish-ment of this commandment included the accomplish-ment of all the others.~ They saw the primary exemplar of their life of Christian obedience in the person of Christ Himself. Every work of His life, all His life, is an ¯ act of obedience to the will of His Father.8 Since they considered that all authority came from God4 they were to obey not merely out of fear but from conscience or for the Lord,~ unless this authority attempted to abuse the power that had been given it. Slaves were to obey their masters,~ wives their husbands,7 children their parentsS; yet all were to love Christ even more. In short, according to the New Testament, any life that was truly Christian had to be filled and impreg-nated with obedience of one sort or another, obedience to God, to Christ, to the Church, to the state, to parents, 1 Heb 13:7. ~ Gal 5:14. SLk 22:42; Jn 17:4; Phil 2:8; Rom 5:19; Mt 9:13; 26:52. '.Mr 22:15 ft.; Rom 13:5. Sl Pt 2:13 ft. e Eph 6:5; Col 8:22. ~ 1 Cot 11:3 ft. SEph 6:1; Col 3:20. Father Charles A. Schleck, C.S.C., is a faculty member of Holy Cross Col-lege; 4001 Hare-wood Road N.E.; Washington,. D.C. 10017. VOLUME 25, 1966 161 + + + c. A. $chleck, C.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS to a husband, and so forth. Its characteristic mark was that it be shown to any.of these as to the Lord. It was this which g.ave concrete expressions of obedience their unity. From this it would seem that the entire Christian life in its ensemble was considered to be obedience. For everything in it was thought of as an implicit or formal accomplishment of the divine authoritative will speak-ing through the various organs capable of its revela-tion. The application of obedience for the early Chris-tians, if we are to judge from New Testament writings, was as vast as was the field of charity. In fact any and all obedience was considered as being the fulfillment o? charity in its diverse forms. Once an action was seen as necessary for the life of charity and recognized as such by the moral conscience, it became an obligation in virtue of the obligatory character of the precept of charity.9 It was seen not merely in the light of what we would call the virtue of justice but rather in the light of charity, and as such entered into the theologal life o( the Christian. It was a vital human activity of which God Himself was the object and the motive, and in the perfecting of which God was coactive. It was the life of grace in faith, hope, and love, and as such brought about a personal relationship with God.1° On the other side of the coin, those who were called to exercise authority in the Church were to do so as a service to the community, and this in imitation of the Lord who came not to be served but rather to serve,xl The disciples were chosen by Christ and sent to the children of Israel first and then to all the nations12 so that as sharers in His power they might make all peoples His members by sanctifying them and governing themAz They were given the task of ministering to it always under the guidance of the Lord and of guiding it or di-recting it all days even to the consummation of the world.~4 They were called upon to take up the service of the community, presiding in place of God over the community as shepherds of the flock of Christ; whoever listened to them listened to Christ; and whoever re-jected them, rejected Christ and Him who sent Christ, the FatherJ5 The ministry which these men were to exercise was threefold: the ministry of teaching sound 9See K. Truhlar, s.J., "L'ob6issance des la'ics," in La[cs et vie chrdtienne parfaite (Rome: Herder, 1963), p. 245. tOE. Schillebeeckx, O.P., Christ the Sacrament of the Encounter with God (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1963), p. 16, nQte 14. u Mk 10:45; see also Y. Congar, O.P, Power and Poverty in the Church (Baltimore: Helicon, 1964), pp. 98-9. tO Rom 1:16. tO Mt 28:16-20; Mk 16:15; Lk 24:45-8; Jn 20:21-3. 1~ Mt 28:20. ~Lk 10:16. doctrinele; the ministry o[ sancti[ying17; and the ministry of. governing.~8 It is clear from this that authority is not used correctly whenever it turns into despotism or domi-nation, ae It is meant to be a service of love and in love (agap6) to the community, or a prelacy in the sense of supervision and surveillance for the unification of the community,s0 When we shift our gaze to the "first religious," the fathers of the desert (I think that we can trace the com-munal practice of obedience to this era), we see that for them obedience was one piece in a multitude of things which the ascetic had to be ready to assume in "leaving the world" to test his courage and strength against the temptations of the desert. The reason why this was de-manded was that the heart of an individual was so con-taminated by concupiscences of various kinds that he wo.uld be considered rash if in attempting to reach the perfection of the following of Christ he did not rely on or seek the direction of others in a spirit of humility. Obedience was considered as merely a kind of corollary of a frank soul testifying to its confidence in a spiritual master from whom advice was sought. It was an element of interior perfection and could almost have been re-duced to the practice of humility as a means of putting to death whatever was inordinate in the self-will of an individual. This desire to "follow Christ radically" was not what we often imz'gine it to be--a purely personal and inti-mate relationship with Christ. In the spirituality of the father of the monks, Antony, the "following of Christ" embraced a form that we would find extremely inter-esting today, Despite the apparent paradox, the imitation of Christ by the first hermits was essentially social. The first goal of those who gave themselves to this way of life was fraternal charity. And they were always pre-pared to see to its observance whenever khis was neces-sary. z~ Those who quickly gathered around Antony did so in an attempt to find the life of the primitive Church, a perfect fraternity, totally subject to the will of the as 2 Tim 4: I ft. 1~ Mt 28:19; 2 Cor 3:8--9. as I Pt 5:2 ft.; Acts 20:28. as Mk 10:42; Lk 22:25. ~o For all his insistence on the role of authority as ministry or service, Paul also referred to it as having power to make decisions; it is not simply a tool of the governed; see, for example, 1 Cor 7:10, 12,17; 2 Cor 10:8; 2 Th 3:9; Phm 8. The hierarchy has been es-tablished for service which includes teaching, ministry, and govern-ment. This service is in view of the community, in view of building up the Church to the glory of the Father. See P. Anciaux, L'dpiscopat darts l'Eglise (Bruges: Descl~e de Brouwer, 1963), pp. 56-7. a Antony returned to Alexandria to serve the Christians perse-cuted for their faith and serving in the mines. 4. + + Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 163: ÷ ÷ C. A. Sehleek, C.$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 164 Lord, moving in perfect unity and harmony towards the second coming. This trend was merely more fully in-tensified the more cenobitical these groups became. In the beginning when men came together to live in common, and to follow the teaching of a master and to incorporate themselves more completely into a com-munity of worship and love, the practice of obedience was not regulated by any positive or organic legislation 'as it is today. In fact from the juridical and moral view-point it is difficult to sa~ whether or not the first cenobites were even considered to have vowed obedience to a spiritual father. From all the documentary evidence we have at our disposal it would seem as though the prac-tice of vowed obedience came in with the advent of St. Benedict upon the monastic scene. Yet the practice of obedience for all, hermits and cenobites, appears to have always remained fundamentally the same in its ends or goals. It was always regarded as an instrument for achieving Christian perfection (1) by imitating the ex-ample of the Divine Redeemer and His sacrifice, and (2) by bringing all into unity to constitute a community of worship and love.22 These basic eler~en~s and motives which marked the obedience of the first "religious" should also mark the contemporary practice in religious communities of to-day. The love of Christ, the following of His obedience to the Father, the practice of faith and humility, the desire for ecclesial unity, all of these form the very heart and core of all religious obedience regardless of epoch, place or form, or embodiment. There is, however, one difference that seems to stand out rather clearly in comparing the practice of obedience of modern com-munities with that of their earlier counterparts. And tfiat is~ the functional character of the obedience of the former in contrast with the domestic character of the latter.2n There should be no astonishment at this difference once we consider the environment in which the Bene-dictine life was established. It was set up within the framework of the notion of the Roman paterfamilias who had a rather complete control over those subject to himself, not only the slaves and workers but even over the members of his own immediate family, his wife and his children. For Benedict there was first of all in the monastic ideal, obedience; in fact, we might say there was nothing but obedience. As the Prologu~ of' m R. Carpentier, S.J., "Vers une th~ologie de la vie religieuse," in La vie religieuse darts l'Eglise du Christ (Bruges: Descl~e de Brouwer, 1964), pp. 65-71. m For these expressions, domestic and ]unctional, see J. Leclercq, The Religious Vocation (New York: Kenedy, 1955), pp. 134-5. the Rule states: "Hearken O my son, to the precept of your master, and incline the ear of your heart; willingly receive and faithfully fulfill the admonition of your loving Father, that you may return by the labor of obedience to Him from whom you had departed through the sloth of disobedience., so that renouncing your own will you will take Up the strong and bright weapons of obedience."~4 And again in Chapter 5 the Rule states: "Those who are impelled by the ardent desire of ascending to eternal life for that reason take the nar-row .way.n6t living by their own will or obeying their own desires and pleasures, they walk in accordance with the judgment and command of another; living in communities they desire to be ruled by an abbot." ~5 From the very beginning the Rule of St. Benedict speaks of the abbot who stands in the place of God. And after this it speaks of obedience, the first among the virtues, and of humility which begets obedience. Yet for all this emphasis on obedience, the Rule also indicates quite clearly its norm: the Rule itself. A very definite limitation was placed on the powers of the abbot, which is often forgotten. There was a sense in which the abbot had all the power, and there was another sense in which he had only that power given to him by the Rule. His mission was to make sure that the Rule was observed. But hd had no power to oblige any service not in accordance with the Rule. Moreover, Benedictine obedience was lived within the framework of the monastery. It was a kind of do-mestic obedience, to use an expression. It was obedience within the life of the family and was given to a superior who was always present. It was a hearkening to the voice of him who gave orders. It was an obedience that left what one was doing unfinished as soon as the voice made itself heard. Because it was domestic, Benedictine obedience was very profoundly human. In the monastery the relationship was that of person to person with the flexibility that is to be found in human relations. It did not have the more or less abstract character and regimentary appearance which it took on in later times due to its change in operation. This same interpersonal dimension of monastic or domestic obedience can be seen throughout Benedict's legislation as is evident from the following excerpts: Whenever any weighty matters are to be transacted in the monastery, let the abbot call together the whole community and make known the matter which is to be considered. Hav-ing heard the brethren's views let him weigh the matter with himself and do what he thinks best. It is for this reason that Prologue, Rule oI St. Benedict, § 1. Rule o] St. Benedict, Chapter 5. - 4. 4. ObedienCe VOLUME 25, 1966 165 REV1EWFOR RELigIOUS 166" we said that all should be called for counsel, because the Lord often reveals to the younger what is best. Let the brethren, however, give their advice with humble submission and let them not presume stubbornly to defend what seems right to them, for it must depend rather on the abbot's will so that all obey him in what he considers best. Bu~ as it becomes disciples to obey their master, so also it becomes the master' to dispose all things with prudence and justice. Therefore let all follow the Rule as their guide in everything, and let no one rashly depart from it . Let no one in the monastery follow the bent of his own heart, and let no one dare to dispute insolently with his abbot, either inside or outside the monastery. If any one dare do so, let" him be placed under the correction of the Rule . Let the abbot himself, however, do everything in the fear of the Lord, and out of reverence for the .Rule, knowing that beyond doubt he will have to give an account to God the most just Judge for all his rulings. If however, matters of'less importance having to do with the welfare of the monastery are to be treated of, let him use the counsel of the seniors only, as it is written: Do ~ill things with counsel, and thou shalt not. repent when thou hast done.~ From the moment when congregations or groups of men and women began to exercise apostolates and chari-table works that took them away from the immediacy of the monastery and the contemplative life, obedience began to. assume a different appearance. It became what we might call more functional in operation than do-mestic.: It began to center more and more around the beginnin~ of an action or task than around the actual manner in which it 'was to be carried out. We can say that it came into action when the course or activity was undertaken, leaving to the subject the manner in which it was to be carried out. The superior was free to fix the limits of the task but once the work was started, the religious was left free, at least to some extent, to follow his own initiative. Yet for all this personal initiative on the part of the subject, the entire work and not merely the task assigned was said to come under obedi-ence. I suppose that we find this practice of obedience rather clearly crystallized in the Jesuit approach to this element of religious life. Wishing to form men for service to the Church in all and every circumstance of its life and needs, Ignatius abandoned many forms and observances which were characteristic up to that time. In regard to obedience he attempted to give his fol-lowers a personal formation that would enable them to preserve their religious character and ideals without many of the external supports that were found in the monastic version of the religious life. His religious were to have such a strong character formation that they would be able to manage without any support, would undertake any responsibility, and would remain faithful ~ Rule of St. Benedict, Chapte~ 5 and 3. to their vocation under any and all circumstances by reason of the depth of their interior life. Yet they would be so trained in obedience that they could be en-trusted with or relieved of any function or activity at any given moment or sent to the ends of the earth with-out previous warning or explanation. As we can see, such obedience might seem to be less human to a certain extent, less interpersonal than that of the monastic version.2~ Yet it is not less radically detached. In fact, it is even more detached than that of the monastic type. For a Jesuit, ideally, can have no other attachment .than to the will of God and to His glory which is represented by an obedience the object of which is frequently that of undertaking rather serious responsibilities. He must be ready for every responsibility and yet at the same time be ready to give up without delay or discussion work to which he may have devoted, himself unreservedly for years. And quite recently Pope Pius XII asked them to continue to form their men in this same spirit of obedi-ence. 2s This form of functional obedience has been the state-ment of this practice of the religious life for most reli-gious communities since the arrival of the Jesuits. The only other development that has come on the scene in recent years is its statement or expression within the framework of secular institutes. Here a more free type of obedience is exercised, but basically it would seem to be merely an extension of the functional obedience which we have just described, From this it should be clear that evangelical obedience or religious obedience as well can be and has been em-bodied in different expressions or statements. These are or have been brought on by the demands of the Church peculiar to different epochs. Yet as we shall see later on in ~ Ignatius was quite understanding of his religious. When Father Nadal entered the Society at about the age of thirty-five Ignatius gave him a particularly pleasant room, had him dine with himself frequently, took him out walking, and chatted with him quite fre-quently. When. asked why, he answered that a temperament like Nadal's had to be treated with a soft touchl It is also recorded of him that he said on one occasion: "I have a great desire for a general indifference in all; and so presupposing obedience and ab-negation on the part o[ the subject, I find it very good to ]ollow his inclinations." When he wished to send one out to study or to a distant assignment or give him some rather heavy task he examined the person to find out what he was most inclined to; and then, if he found an obedient man, accommodated himself to his inclina-tions. See E. Polit, S.J., Per[ect Obedience (Westminster: Newman, 1947), p. 160. ~ Address to the General Congregation, 1957: "The form of gov-ernment in the Society is monarchical and is embodied in the de-cisions of a single superior" (The States oI PerIection, ed. G. Courtois [Westminster: Newman, 1962], p. 300). ÷ ÷ ÷ Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 167 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS the article, for all these different expressions, in essence. and in its fundamental .outlines the practice of obedi-ence in all institutes of perfection remains the same. Its theology has in no wise changed.29 For all the cornerstone force, for all the excellence ~which the practice of. obedience has in the long tradition of the life of the counsels, there is no problem which present~ so many and so varied difficulties in our con-temporary religious life. I believe that if we were .to analyze the problem, trying to get at its roots or sources whence these difficulties come, we would find them to be several: the spirit of our times; certain trends in spiritu-ality, certain embodiments of authority and obedience,. and a misunderstanding of the theology of obedience. Each of these demands something of an explanation. Firstof all there is the "spirit of our times," or the civilization and historical epoch in which we live. This is characterized by an ever growing democratization of men and institutions. In such an environment the ideal that seems to be uppermost for many is that of "team. Work" or fraternal collaboration or a "democratic obedi-ence," in which if there is any authority whatsoever, this authority comes from the group in such a way that the leader more or less merely interpre~ or reflects the consensus or the mind of the group 'and acts as their spokesman .and is responsible before them. In fact, the idea that there can be an authority that comes from God rather than from the g~oup, an authority which-is superior to a group even though serving it and ordered to the common good, an authority that is not merely a servile instrument but the sign of ruling that is the power of the kingdom of God, an authority that is a service responsible primarily to God, all this is rather difficult for the youth coming to us today to under-stand. So Moreover, the spirituality of our day with its marvel-ous possession of a deeper psychological understanding of the workings of men and women, its recognition of ~Much of the current agitation regarding obedience and au-thority--- often generating more heat than light in our era of "stress writing"--is really an attempt to recover various aspects of this institution already found in previous embodiments; for exam, ple, (1) the dialogue" and communication ideal of Benedictine monasticism; (2) the functional ideal of the Society of Jesus; (3) the authority-service ideal of the New Testament. Bu( when any ~f these aspects is stressed (and the same is true of abnegation) so that it is seen outside of the total context of obedience-authority, it can cause a myopia which is disastrous to the overall picture. It is this exaggerated preoccupation with one or other element of obedience-authority out of due proportion that-is causing many of our problems today. .~Paul'VI, Address to the General Audience, July 14, 1965, NCWC Documentary News Service. man's intelligence, its cult of the dignity of the human person, its insistence on man's initiative and free re-sponse to God ir; facing the tasks of life, all this has set of[ without intending to, of course, a reaction against obedience and authority, at least for the moment, rather than a perfecting and balancing of it as originally in-tended. Again, a study of history shows quite clearly that down through the centuries there have been dit~erent .embodiments or statements of authority even within the Church. And this same study will show that some of the images of authority in history are not always faithful to its God-intended purpose and, therefore, not very felici-tous and certainly not to be clung to or defended,sl As a result of thes~facts and trends, the charge has been resounding for over ten years that obedience, espe-cially religious obedience, imperils the human dignity of the person, that it hampers or even goes counter to the development of human personality, that it stands be-tween him and God or interferes with his immediate and direct~relationship with God, that it creates weak and passive spirits not capable of meeting the chal-lenges of our times, that it affords a haven where persons afraid to face the world or assume responsibility can come to anchor. It is also argued that corpse-like obedi-ence is not even human, let alone religious. For human obedience should place all the capacities of man at the service of obedience. Consequently, it must be active and intelligent. While passive obedience (the kind so often reflected in the older ascetical writings usually intended for novices and contemplative religious) might be fitting for a very young child (although even this is questioned) since it is not yet capable of using its reason fully, the case of the adult is quite different. The latter's obedience must be mature, therefore, active and intelligent; otherwise it goes counter to the very nature of the human person. And so the plea has been raised again and again: more independence, initiative, and responsibility must be given to subjects. Efficiency can be achieved only when as much discretion and liberty as possible is left to sub-ordinate members. Professionals within the Church will do their best work in a situation where they have as much freedom and self-respect as possible. Thus, au-thority today must be exercised in a much more "fra- ~ Ibid.: "Experience and history offer us a unique picture of the images of authority which are not always faithful and not always happy ones. It is necessary to deepen the idea of the authority of the Church, to purify it of forms which are not essential to it (even if in given circumstances they we're legitimate, for example, temporal power) and to return to its original and Christian prin-ciple." Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 169 + 4. 4. C. A. Schleck, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 170 ternal,' sort of way, that is, in a way that is characterized by stable and purposeful involvement at.each level.32 It is because this has not been true enough in past years that we face a "crisis," not so much in regard to obedi-ence as rather in regard to authority today.3~ This is obviously only a very brief amalgam of the various ideas being circulated today. And what lends color and force to them is the fact that some of these things can and do happen and certainly have happened both in the Church and in religious communities even though they perhaps have happened elsewhere and are happening elsewhere in greater proportion. "Experience and history offer us images of authority which are not always faithful and are not always happy ones." a4 These gources of difficulty have given rise to still another, one more basic and fundamental and more crucial---the theological principles involved in the prac-tice of obedience. These are sometimes rather poorly misunderstood or distorted, not willingly or intentionally to be sure, but simply by over-preoccupation or concen-tration on some elements to the neglect of others. And one thing is certain--we are not allowed to exaggerate one element of a rather complex reality out of due proportion. If we do, we simply shift our error to an-other side. To avoid tilting at windmills we would do well to go back to the basic principles involved in the practice of obedience. This is necessary for both su-periors and subjects. On the one hand, religious obedi- =A. Greeley, "Fraternal Authority in the Church," Homiletic and Poztoral Review, v. 64 (1963-4), pp. 563-5. Some would go so far as to suggest a liberation from every form of juridical prescrip-tion by substituting the simple law of charity and reducing rules to an indispensable minimum. The problem is a minimum for what vocation and function in the Church? =As Father Gambari remarked: "Some think religious are less inclined to obey today. I do not think that this can be said without any qualification. There is a great generosity and spirit of sacrifice among them, and a deep desire to work for the good of their neighbor. But they do wish to obey with greater liberty, spon-taneity and intelligence. They are anxious to base their obedience on reason, not in the sense that they will obey only if the motives and scope of the command are reasonable but rather in the sense that the problem of obedience is seen in a little different light. In the past obedience was presented and practised with insistence on the negative aspect of self-renunciation or death to one's own will. Today we speak of obedience as perfecting the religious. Thus youth wish to seek in obedience the means of becoming associated to the action of God . Again it is true that religious wish Su-periors who do not only hold authority from God, but who know how to use it as God Himself does. It is this which lies at the basis of so much discussion of the following topics: obedience and formalism; obedience and liberty; authority and liberty; obedience and peisonality development; obedience and personal initiative and responsibility" (Proceedings o] 1958 Sisters" Institute o] Spirituality [Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame, 1959], pp. 137, 150-1). ~ Paul VI, Address to the General Audience, July 14, 1965. ence will be retarded in its spiritual effects to the degree that its theology is not known or is neglected. A superior cannot govern properly unless she understands why obedience confirmed by v6w enjoys the place it always has had in religious life. On the other~ hand, a religious subject will obey .constantly with spiritual profit to herself, the commufiity, and the Church and in an adult manner to the extent that she is convince~n all levels of her personality, intellectual, emotional, social and spiritualZ-of the reasons for the existence, practice, and importance of obedience in her state of life. The real question will then be seen to be not whether there is to be authority and obedience, but whether the cur-rent ways of exercising it are suited to the present condi-tion of the Church. As Pope Paul mentioned: "It is necessary to deepen the idea of authority in the Church, to purify it of forms which are not essential to it (even if in given circumstances they were legitimate, such as, for example temporal power) and to return it to its original and Christian principles." 35 ~ The danger in periods like our own where there is much questioning even to the point of a liberating disobedience is that the very foundations of an institu-tion will be weakened. Yet 'I believe that if we know how to read the designs of providence correctly, we can ~?egard this questioning as an invitation to advance and to grasp more firmly the foundations which might seem to be threatened and to use the very difficulties them-selves as an occasion to commit ourselves all the more profoundly to our own religious dedication. In this way both superiors and subjects will come out of these diffi-culties more deeply rooted and more fully developed. To live in the light it is usually necessary to pass through dark nights136 The treatment that I will follow in ,. approaching this problem or topic will be quite similar to that which was followed in regard to poverty and virginity: (1) obedi-ence in general; (2) what religious obedience adds to the practice of obedience in general; (3) the aims of religious obedience; (4) the qualities of religious obedience; (5) the fruits of religious obedience; and (6) some practical suggestions. The Virtue of Obedience in General The nature of obedience as a virtue might well be defined as follows: a natural or supernatural (dependi-ng upon its source and objective) disposition or bent or ~ Ibid, ~See J. Laplace, S.J., "Education to Obedience," in Religious Obedience ,and the Exercise o! Authority, "Donum Dei," v. 3 (Ottawa, Canada: Canadian Religious Conference, 1961), p. 68. (Hereafter this work will be cited as "Donum Dei" 3.) Obedience VOLUME'25, 1966 . 171. C. A. Schleck, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS inclination or, better still, per[ectant of the faculty of the will which disposes a person to habitually submit himseff or herself to another's decision in reference to ¯ those things or areas in which this other has authority or decision-making power over one.~7 For example, in civil or domestic matters, a mayor or a governor or a president or a father or a mother has authority and ~The idea of virtue occupies a central position in moral and spiritual theology. A virtue is a dynamism or perfectant which does not create some automatic reflex type of reaction in situations. This would diminish the moral tonality of the action. No, a virtue is a good perfectant or dynamism that is operalive. It gives" the capacity for a power of action to accomplish the maximum of what it can accomplish. It is an active quality or perfectant that disposes one to produce the maximum of what he can on the moral and spiritual level. A natural virtue is acquired by the repetition of interior acts of the intellect and the will and therefore demands human effort. It is marked by the following qualities: (1) It is a constant disposi-tion of person. The repetition of victory over the passional dynam-ism or the other faculties, the will for example, on the part of the intelligence and reason engenders in the person a certain mastery which nothing can destroy save a change in the will of the individ-ual. (2) It gives promptitude and facility in action. This is the effect of the perfect ordination and unification of the interior principles of action of man where each elemeut enjoys its proper role. The reason and the will command and direct, and the sensibility obeys their impulse making its own contribution. It does away with the internal dissension that could so"easily destroy its function. (3) It gives joy in action, a triumphant joy that issues from the creation of a personal perfection. (4) It is acquired by education, respecting the personality of the persoia concerned. (5) It very often requires thee help o[ another and of discipline. We must insist more on the necessity of education to natural virtue, for it is only the intense presence o~: these ~perfectants and dynamisms in our human per-sonality that will make possible and facilitate the exercise of the so-called infused virtues given with grace. Today there is an excess of personal[sin rather current. Under the pretext of respecting the personality o17 another one does not dare intervene in his moral formation, for to do so would be to impose constraints on him; there is rejected any and all discipline which would impose itself on him, this being prompted by the apparently liberal project of leaving free play to the spontaneity of the individual, of placing entire confidence in the personality of each one. What happens is that'one often abandons others, especially the young, to themselves and their inexperience. One leaves them to the winds of moral mal-formation, to a spiritual life that is rather superficial, subjected to incessant agitation and changes of sentiments that are without much real depth. So many of those advocating this type ol: new formation were just a few years back the most rigid of personalities. This in itself should make us a little cautiotis in regard to any wholesale adoption of this thinking. Education to virtue is a difficult task and a complex one. It exacts the employment of authority and a pro-found respect for those one is educating, much understanding and finesse, and a firm will. One must beware of abusing authority and ofa liberalism which neglects its use: Only intelligent and prudent love for the one being educated will permit the discovery of this formula. See S. Pinckaers, O.P., "La vertu est tout autre chose qu'uhe habitude," Nouvelle revue thdologique, v. 82 (1960), pp. 387- 403. decision-making power over those under him or her in relation to certain actions. Obedience, therefore, is a natural or supernatural perfectant of the will which makes a person prompt in fulfilling the decisions of the one entrusted with this duty and service. By its very ¯ nature, negatively speaking, it involves a surrender of one's will, in a sense, in a given area of action. It means submission to another and implies a risk. For it means the channeling of efforts and energies in the direction marked out by the one charged with the de-cision- making, and this could go contrary to one's per-sonal tastes.and inclinations. As a result the practice of obedience requires submission to the command of another, inability to exercise, independent choice con-trary to the command given; therefore, it implies an evident restriction of freedom in action. If we concentrate only on these negative implications (and necessary ones to be sure)of obedience, it would be easy for us to conclude that some of the objections mentioned above are correct. Obedience could be seen merely as an obstacle to .self-fulfillment, to personal de-velopment; it could be viewed as a violation of personal dignity, even perhaps a kind of profanation of the charismatic spirit which is in each one to lead him to his or her perfection. For this reason, it is all the more necessary to see the positive side of the virtue of obedi-ence, and that is that it is a free and voluntary giving or snrrender or submission of one's person (will) to the decision-making duty and service (command) of a.: su-perior or one charged with the common good. As such, it is an action very much in conformity with our human dignity and self-mastery and quite capable of leading to our self-fulfillment, especially when it is motivated cor-rectly by the spirit of love. The basis of obedience is the very structure of society which requires authority at the service of the com-munity or the common good. This is God-willed and God-intended. There exists no authority except from God.as As John Chrysostom explains this: "Does this mean that every ruler is appointed by God? I do not say that, for I am not dealing now with individual rulers but with authority itself. What I say is that it is the divine wisdom and not mere chance that has or-dained that there should be government, that some should command and others obey." 29 God has willed that in the plan of leading men back ,to Himself ulti-mately, some should be subject to others, not because of any superiority of talent necessarily, whether this be intellectual or spiritual or social or administrative, but ~ Rom 13:1. ~In Epist. ad Rom., c. 13, hom. 23, P.G., v. 60, col. 615. Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 . A. SchlCec.$k.,~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS merely because God has given one person authority or decision-making power over others, even though He may .have done 'this using very human means and per-sons and even political maneuvering to designate this person. Authority is not to be thought a~ lacking all control. Since it is the power to decide or command according to right reason, it must derive its obligatory force from the moral order which has God for its firgt source and final end. If it can oblige men in conscience it is only because it is intrinsically related with the authority of God and shares in it. By this principle the dignity of men is protected. "As men they are equal (and as Christians also, if they are such), but as superior and inferior they are not equal, they are not on the same plane. To one God has given the service of commanding in the realization of His will and to others He has given the service of obeying. When in fact men obey their lawfully constituted rulers when "they rightfully exercise their authority, it is not at all men they obey. "It is God," as Pope John pointed out, "the provident Creator of all things whom they rever-ence. through their obedience, since He has decreed that men's dealings with one another should be regu-lated, by an order which He Himsdf has established. And in showing this due reverence to God, we do not debase ourselves, but rather perfect and ennoble our-selves. For to serve God is to rule." 40 Since the right to command is required by the moral order and has its source in God, it follows that if au-thority (eVen civil) legislates for or allows anything that is contrar)~ to that order and therefore contrary to th~ will of God, neither the laws made nor the authoriza-tions granted can be binding on the consciences of the citizens, since we must obey God 'rather than men. If this were not so, then autho~:ity would break down com-pletely and would result in or be open to shameful abuse. The net result of this would be the degradation of the human person.41 Obedience, then, does not regard so much the persoh in authority as rather the authority of the person in charge. For obedience is given not so much to a per-son as rather to a norm or set of societal laws or rules or norms or constitutions which this authority is called upon to safeguard. Yet to a certain extent obedience is given also to a person, that is, to God who incarnates Himself in this' set, of expressions when they fulfill the definition of law: an ordinance of reason established for ~o Pacem in terris, America Press edition, § 50, p. 18; also, §§ 46-9, pp. 17-8. ~a Ibid., § 51, p. 18. the common good, promulgated by one who has rightful authority.42 From what we have seen, it. should be evident that the purpose of authority is the common good; in fact, this comes from the very etymology of the word. It is derived from the Latin word "augere" which means to increase or foster or enlarge. It is. of the very nature of anyone in authority to make decisions and move people about or command their wills but only in the interest of the common good. Thus, the motivating force behind one in authority cannot be merely the good of the individual member but rather the overall common good of the group or society over which he or she has charge. This end, of course, does not exclude the good of the individual either. Rather it includes it, since the indi-vidual pertains to the group as a part pertains to the whole. Authority exists for the sake of those over whom it is set. It is a service to God and to th~ community and to the individual member of this community. As Pope John mentioned: Indeed since the whole reason for the existence of civil authorities is the realization of the common good, it is clearly necessary that in pursuing this objective, they should respect its essential elements, and at the same time conform their laws to the needs of a given historical situation . For the common good is intimately bound up with human nature. It can never exist fully and completely unless its intimate nature and realization being what they are, the human person is taken into account.~ Authority is established to develop and lead to per-fection and fulfillment the self-respect of the group and of each individual member of the group, to impress upon the group as well as each individual member the per-sonality which is proper to it and to them, a personality which is determined by the end or purpose for which the society exists. It is not set up to be an opportunity to exercise a lordship or dominion, or to receive respect or reverence or service. It is a ministry unto unity, even while it fosters diversity. It can readily be seen that excessive severity or ri-gidity on the part of authority originates from a false idea. It comes most often from an over-estimation of oneself on the part of the one in authority, or from pedagogical incompetence, or from the inability to han-dle individual persons, or perhaps even from some sense of inferiority in the face of the subordinates one has ' to command. It is for one or more of these reasons that ~ This point would seem to have some relevance for women since modern psychology reveals that often they find it somewhat more difficult to abstract from the concrete person involved in superior-subject relationships. ~ Pacem in terris, §§ 54-5, pp. 19-20. ÷ ÷ ÷ Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 175 ÷ ÷ ÷ C. A. SchCle.Sc.kC,. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS authority often ends up?by having to work at a distance from its subjects rather than in close collaboration with them and leadership of them; and in so doing it fails to accomplish the full perfection df the task that is assigned to it--the bringing out in the society and the individual members¯ of it the personality or the personalities that are proper to it.44 While ,the initial success of obedience rests on the wise and efficient Use of authority---on government ac-cording to reason rather than merely by will--still it can also be said that the ultimate success of this institu-tion and the realization of the common good rests upon the harmonious cooperation and collaboration of those who are subject to this authority. Individuals and inter-mediate groups are obliged to make their specific contri-butions to the common welfare. Thus, one of the chief consequences of this is that these individuals or groups must bring their own interests into harmony with the needs o] the community, and they must dispose of their goods and of their services as the legitimate authorities prescribe in.accord with the norms of justice and within the limits or, their competence.4~ It is on!y in that society or community in which each member consents to do his part, and all his part, and nothing but his part (that is, not interfering with others) that everything will be correctly done. Such is true of the workings of the human body, and.~such, is true of the' working of an orchestra. For only when each one executes faithfully what is on the sheet of music before him will the entire piece be a perfect success. If one of the members of the orchestra departs from the score, not harmony but cacophony and discord will result. While it is true that not all the parts o(the orchestra have equally exciting or exhilarating functions to play, .still each of them has to be performed correctly it the end ot the orchestra is going to be achieved. There are some per-sons who play a.ll the time, and there are 'others who play only an occasional note here and there throughout the entire piece. Yet it this occasional note, small as it is in comparison with the whole, is not played exactly when and where it is to be played, the overall beauty of the music would be marred. Granted it is not very enticing or alluring to have to count out measure after meas6re without doing anything active, still each mere-a By "personality" I mean the'harmonious development of all the human and supernatural qualities of a person in subordination to the common good, to God, the lesser good being subordinated to the greater good. So understood, there is no conflict between the personality and obedience. There will at times be need for re-nunciation by an individual or small group, but this will be asked for the common good. See "Donum Dei" 3, pp. 194-5. ~ Pacem in teriis, § 53, p. 19. ber of the orchestra knows that this inconvenience must be endured, since the concert is not merely for th~ players but for the audience listening to it. A similar thing is true in the case of any society. F6r the good of the society is attained only when those under authority perfectly fulfill the tasks and offices and duties to which they are assigned--and as human beings---and when authority learns to utilize the experience and training and talents of those it commands in reference to the community endeavor. Thus, the power of au-thority can be defined as a power of cooi:dination guaranteeing the unity of a communitary plurality;, but. only in proportion to the consciousness with which each member of the community lives his function will the unity actually be achieved.46 From this it should be clear that a true concept of obedience and its correlative authority is far from the limited distortion so often emphasized in "stress writ-ing" today. It is a positive force for the fulfillment of men and women, of persons, but within the sphere of community as well as within the sphere of their, private world. A community in which the members have the proper respect for those in authority and willingly and intelligently carry out their specific functions and roles must necessarily be one in which tranquility reigns.4~ Authentic obedience liberates a person once and for all from his personal instability, sentimentality, and blind passions. It is a free and voluntary option which leaves the spirit open and receptive to many values which pre-sent themselves. The person who never makes such a choice and who never commits himself is less open, less broad-minded than one who has anchored his life to an obedience, seeing his life in and through it as a building directed by God. Yet for all this, such a relationship~ obedience-authority---does involve a struggle, one that includes very painful aspects because it disturbs very deep desires in men who are not as yet totally harmonized and humanized by the power of Christ's redeeming grace. Religious Obedience: What It Adds to Obedience in General Today it is most important that we show that obedi-ence is universal in character and belongs to the very life of the Church. It is, therefore, not entirely correct to call it the virtue of the monk "or of the religious. For obedience in a sense is just as absolute and obligatory for the layman as for the monk or religious even though ~A. Paoli, "Obedience," Cross Currents, v. 15 (1965), pp. 284-5. ~J. Aumann, "Current Trends," Cross and Crown, v. 17 (1965), pp. 347-8. Obedience " VOLUME 25, '1966 177 4. C. A. Schleck, C.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 178 there¯ are differences. This absoluteness of obedience even for the layman stems from the universal vocation of all who are baptized to holiness of life.48 Yet for all this we do find differences, in fact differences which serve to establish one in a different way of life within the Church. As Pope Paul mentioned in a recent allocution: It has seemed good to Us to recall here the priceless im-portance and necessary function of religious life; for this state of life which receives its distinctive character from profession of the evangelical counsels is a perfect way of life according to the example and teaching of Jesus Christ, especially since it is a state of life which keeps in view the constant growth of charity leading to final perfection. In other ways of life the specific ends, advantages, and functions, though legitimate in them- ¯ selves, are of a temporal character . Hence it follows that the profession of the evangelical vows is an augmentation of that consecration which is proper to baptism. It is a kind of special consecration which perfects the former one inasmuch as by it the follower of Christ totally commits and dedicates himself to God, thereby making his entire life a service to God alone.'~ When we come to determine these differences more precisely we would find them to be especially three: (1) it extends the practice of obedience; (2) it changes the end or, perhaps better, affects the end for which one obeys; and (3) it places us in a more direct contact with the will of God, than does life outside religion (this has to be understood cautiously). First, religious obedience extends the control of Church authority over the person who freely and voluntarily enters a religious society. For by entering, a woman freely, and let us hope joyfully, gives to the persons of her superiors and their decision-making power even that legitimate freedom of action and movement with regard to time and exterior lif~ which she enjoyed in the world. Consequently, the obligation or the moral imperative of the virtue of obedience is extended also ,s Paul VII Magno gaudio affecti, May 23, 1964; English trans-lation, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, V. 23 (1964), p. 699. But especially see the Constitution on the Church of Vatican Council II, Chapter 5 (English translation, REVIEW FO~ RELIGIOUS, V. 24 [1965], pp. 707-- ~ Paul VI, Magno gaudio affecti, as cited in the preceding foot-note. This difference is also indicated in the Constitution on the Church: "Since it is necessary thfft His followers should always imi-tate and give testimony to this charity and humility of Christ, the Church rejoices that there are to be found within her many men and women who closely follow and clearly show forth the self-emptying of the Savior, doing this by assuming poverty in the spirit of the freedom of the children of God and by renouncing their own wills. For the sake o[ God and with respect to what pertains to per-fection they make themselves subject to a man, going beyond the measure o[ what is commanded in order to be more lully con]ormed to the obedient Christ" (Chapter 5; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. v. 24 [1965], pp. 712-3). to meet these new acts which religious authority can now command according to the norms of the particular society or community involved. For as we mentioned above, a religious vows or promises obedience primarily to God within the framework of a society and its particu-lar or peculiar norm of life rather than to a person, even though the two ~ire in a sense identified whenever the person in authority commands according to the norm. In fact, it is this very extension of obedience which makes religious commitment today the difficult thing that it is for so many young girls. As Pius XII remarked in an address to the International Congress for the States of Perfection in 1950: If the number of candidates wishing to enter the enclosed gardens of the religious life is diminishing, especially among young women, the reason very frequently is that they find it difficult to divest themselves of their own judgment and sur-render their [reedom o[ action, as the very nature of the vow of obedience demands. Indeed some praise as the real peak of moral perfection, not the surrender of liberty for the sake of the love of Christ, but the curbing of such surrender. The norm to be preferred in the formation of a just and holy person would seem to be this: restrict liberty only where necessary; otherwise, give liberty free rein as far as possible. We by-pass the question whether this new foundation on which some are trying to build the edifice of sanctity will be as effective and as solid in supporting and augmenting the apostolic work of the Church as was the one which through fifteen hundred years has been provided by that ancient rule of obedience undertaken for the love of Christ. What is now of supreme importance is to examine this proposal thoroughly to disclose what lies concealed beneath the surface. This opinion, if care-fully considered not only fails to appreciate the nature of the evangelical counsel but it somehow twists it to a meaning in accord with its theory. No one is obliged to choose for himself the counsel of perfect obedience, which essentially is a rule of life whereby one surrenders the control of his own will. No one, we repeat, be it an individual or a group. They can if they wish conform to this new rule. But words must be under-stood and accepted according to .their obvious meaning, and if this norm is compared with the vow of obedience it surely does not possess the same supreme value, nor is it an adequate expression of the wonderful example recorded in Holy Scrip-ture: "He humbled Himself becoming obedient unto death." ~0 He therefore is himself deceived and deceives others who forgetting the propensities of the soul and the inspiration of divine grace, offers as a guide to one seeking advice about en-tering the religious state only that new norm. Hence if it is clear that the voice of God is calling someone to the heights of evangelical perfection without any hesitation he should be invited for the attainment of this lofty purpose to offer freely the sacrifice of his liberty as the vow of obedience demands, that vow, We proclaim, which the Church has through so many centuries weighed, has put to the test, has properly delineated and has approved. Let no one against his will be compelled to Phil 2:8. ÷ ÷ ÷ ObedienCe VOLUME 25, 1966 1'/9 ÷ ÷ C. A. $chleck, C.$.C. REVIEW,FOR REL]G|OU$ 180 this self-consecration; but if he does will it, let no one counsel him against it; above all let no one hold him bacL= Moreover, the end to Which the superiors of a re-ligious community are to lead the one presenting her-self to it is not merely a natural end, such as is true at least proximately of a natural society. The first or pri-mary role and duty of religious superiors is to lead their members or subordinates to intimate communion and union wiih God through the perfection of love or charity by way o~ personal assimilation and expression. No human society has this as its direct and primary end, whereas a religious society does not exist and can-not exist except ~or this purpose.~2 Thus the primary end of religious communities is to lead their members to "seek God solely and before anything else," 53 and this by the profession of the vows, especially that of obedience which is the most important and which in a sense in-cludes the others since we vow obedience to the consti-tutions which include the practice of the other two vows. And finally, religious obedience puts a subject into more direct and immediate contact with the will of God than any other framework of life. This was certainly the thought of Benedictine monasticism which regarded the abbot as the one who took the place of God ~or the monk so long as the abbot commanded according to the norms of the monastic community. And it also seems to be the normally accepted thinking of the magister-ium. In speaking to major superiors in 1958, Plus XII pointed out the place which religious superiors have in regard to the government of the Church: Beloved sons who by the suave designs of God's providence have been placed in .command of your members engaged in the quest of perfection, gathered as you are in Our presence, it is with uncommon joy that We salute you in the name of the Lord, as men chosen to be associated with Us--and in no mean capacity--in Our apostolic office. For as We said a few years ago in speaking to your members at the first General Congress of the States of Perfection, the religious state "has its existence and strength from its intimate connection with the end of the Church herself, which is to lead men to the attainment of holiness." And the Church, the Spouse of Christ, would not fully correspond to His will, nor would the eyes of men be raised to her in hope as to a "standard set up unto the nations" if there were not found in her some who, more by example than by word, are especially resplendent with the beauty of the Gospel. In this department of Our work, therefore, beloved Sons, We have taken you as associates of Our supreme o~ce, either directly by delegating to you through the Code of Canon ~ Canon Law Digest for Religious, v. 1 (Milwaukee: Bruce, 1964), pp. 91-2. ~ See footnote 49. The specific end of marriage is not.perfection or charity, at least so it would seem from this statement. ~ See Vatican Council II, Decree on Adaptation and Renewal of the Religious Lile, nos. 5--6; NCWC Documentary Service. Law some share of Our supreme jurisdiction, or by laying the foundations of your so-called "dominative power" by Our ap-proval of your rules and Constitutions. And so We have it very much at heart that you should exercise this authority of yours according to Our mind and that of the Church. It is with clear vision and turning neither to right nor to the left that Superiors should lead their subjects securely to eternal life by the safe way of truth, with firm leadership and if necessary with a strong hand. To quote the patriarch of those who, in the Western world, str~ve for evangehcal perfectmn: The A hot should neither teach nor establish nor command anything that is outside the teaching of the Lord.''~ It is because religious superiors in some way share in ecclesiastical authority that when they command in keeping with the norms of this authority they place us in contact with the will of God. This is why Pius had also a year previously rejected the argument against re-ligious obedience drawn from the alleged fact that the dependence of a religious upon his superior was con-trary to the supreme and direct dominion of God over conscience: To insist that a man depend on another even as to his personal life and activity--is not this to confer on the superior prerogatives which belong onl)~ to God? The Church has never defended nor approved such a contention. She regards obedi-ence as a means of leading man to God. Since the motive which inspires it is union with God and since the final aim of obedi-ence is growth in charity, the superior is by no means an obstacle standing between God and the subject and arrogating to himself the homage which is directed only to God. The superior can command only in the name of God and in virtue of the powers entrusted to him, and the subject is bound to obey only for the love of Christ, not for any motives of human advantage or convenience--and much less by mere constraint. Thus he will preserve even in the most complete submission the eager joy of renewing each day concretely his total consecration to the one supreme Master . Let us first recall the words of our Savior: "Come to me all you who labor and are burdened, and I will refresh you . Learn of me because I am meek and humble of heart, and you shall find rest for your souls." ~ If our Lord thus invites men to take up His yoke, it is to teach them that beyond mere legal observance, which easily be-comes burdensome and hard to bear, they are to discover the meaning of true submission and Christian humility. Far [rom offending the dignity of one who submits, this will give him in-terior liberty and show him how to accept his state of subjec-tion, not as a constraint from without, but as a surrender of himself into the hands of God, whose will is expressed through the visible authority of those whose mission it is to command. The Superior for his part will use his powers in the same evangelical spirit: "He that is the greater among you, let him become the younger; and he that is leader as he that serves." ~ From this it should be clear that the superior has as ~ Allocution to Major Superiors, February 11, 1958; Canon Law Digest ]or Religious, v. 1, pp. 194-5. ~ Mt 11:28-9. ~Lk 22:26. See also the Address to the States o] Per]ection, December 9, 1957; Canon Law Digest for Religious, v. 1, pp. 132, 130. 4" 4" 4" Obedience VOLUME 25, 1"966' ' 181 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS her function the apostolic duty of mediating God's will to human minds. It is because she is the instrument whom God uses to make known His will to the sub-ject that she has the duty to listen to God herself, to seek the will of God and the directives of the Spirit in regard to the subject, even using the subject's communi-cation to her in seeking this out. If the subject is ex-pected to see Christ in her superior, then the superior also is expected to see Christ in the subject, for she is a member of the Body of Christ. As Christians they are equal, and it is possible for the subject to receive cer-tain lights and directives from the Holy Spirit.5~ Yet even these are subject to the final decision of those in authority when authority acts within its powers. Con-sequently, it is the duty of the subject to accept the fact that when authority has issued a command, it has also been listening to God's word and is not merely issuing a command for the exercise of power. With all this in mind it should be quite easy to grasp the statement that in a way the problem of obedience is simpler for the subject than for the superior. As far as the subject is concerned, obedience enjoys a kind of infallibility, such that the subject is never wrong in obeying when the superior operates within the limits of her powers. This, of course, has to be understood cor-rectly. A distinction must be made between the proxi-mate end and the remote end of a law. It is quite possible that in reference to the proximate end, the de-cision of the superior is not always the best. Yet with regard to the remote or ultimate end, this decision trans-mits infalliblY the will of God and the subject cannot make any mistake in obeying it. In giving a command or making a decision it is the general policy of superiors to be pursuing a proximate end or an immediate and definite purpose. A superior for example may give a, sub-ject a directive aimed at helping the subject improve in some area of her teaching or nursing. In such matters it is quite possible for the superior to make a mistake. ¯ She can tell the subject to take a certain kind of exercise and the subject incapacitates herself from doing ttiis. In regard to this, then, the immediate or proximate end, the superior can be quite fallible. But we can also con-sider the superior's decision in relation to its remote li:'l; end: to reveal to the subject the will of God in her re-gard, And this particular will of God is merely a part o[ the total plan of divine providence and government of mankind. ~We have a rather darkened and limited intellect and our range of vision is quite small. Thus we could very mVatican Council II, Constitution on the Church, Chapter 2, n. 12; R~vmw FOR RELmIOUS, V. 24 (1965), pp. 677-8. easily be mistaken when we pass judgment on some event or other. We can look at it as a failure when in reality it has many further nuances. We must remember that the total plan of God is a supremely harmonious one in which every detail is wisely provided for, willed or permitted by God. We see only a part of the overall plan and may easily think that talents and so on are quite wasted. Yet from God's viewpoint everything is quite clear and well ordered, and every detail is ac-cording to His plan. Thus an action decided on by a superior may very well result in failure on the human plane. In relation to its ultimate end, however,, it is willed or permitted, by God. Thus what seems a failure to our human shortsightedness is really a part of the great harmonious plan of God. And in this long-range view the apparent failure which contributes to the har-mony of the overall design is really a success. Thus the subject, failing according to our human approach and view through her obedience, is always fulfilling the authentic will of God. She contributes to the realization of the total divine plan and therefore cannot make a mistake. Her union with the divine will is infallible, in this sense. This does not mean that the superior cannot make a mistake in commanding or deciding. Far from it. It is possible in commanding or deciding that the stiperior gives evidence of incompetence, or ignorance, or pre-cipitation, or anger, even of malice. And we cannot pos-sibly consider any of these virtuous actions. It can be from the superior's point of view a mistake and even a sin, even a grave sin. But unless the superior commands a sinful action, the duty of the subject is to obey.as Thus the principle that we have been attempting to show still holds. The subject enjoys a kind of infallibility in the practice of obedience, which the superior does not necessarily enjoy. It is the great St. Teresa who was so convinced of this that she wrote: "Suppose the confes-sor makes a mistake, the safest way for a religious is to follow his direction exactly, even .though an angel of the Lord may have spoken to her (indicating a different direction). For our Lord will either enlighten his min, ister or arrange matters in such a way that this soul will not fail in obeying." 59 It is precisely the role of the vow of obedience to permit us to conform our will to God's in our least actions and at every moment of our ~sI shall clarify this at greater length when speaking .of the qualities of obedience. ~ Book o] Foundations in The Complete Works of St. Teresa of Avila, ed. E. Allison: Peers, vo 3 (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1951), p. 42. For a more complete treatment of this note of infallibility in obedience, see R. Morency, S.J., "The Ex~rcise of Authority in the Light of Present-Day Problems," "Donum Dei" 3, pp. 172-4. ÷ + ÷ VOLUME 25,. 1956 ]83 4. 4. + REV[EW FOR REL]G]OU5 life. In obeying, in fulfilling what is demanded by rule and constitutions and by superiors, the religious has the certainty (in faith, of course, as we shall see) of dbing exactly what God wants her to do at each moment of her life. By obedience she conforms her will to God's. What we have been discussing is based on the fol-lowing considerations. Christian thought has always recognized in ecclesiastical leaders the representatives of Christ. Yet we are not to .feel that the decisions of those in authority on any particular point are identical with the direct revelation of God's designs. Nor are we to conclude that the dedisions of those in authority are identical with those which Christ Himself. would make in simil~tr circumstances. (This would be to push the "mystique" of obedience beyond its limits.) The mem-bers of communities who are in authority are secondary causes and remain so.'Zhey act with such intelligence and competence and skill as God has given them or as they may have acquired with His talents and grace. He does not transform their imperfections and weaknesses into ggod qualities. It is true of course that He does compensate~ for them, but this is different. Yet it is in spite of these insufficiencies whether hidden or obvious that Christ continues to govern His Church through such agents. It is through them that He works out His plan of redemption. The true concept of obedience does not consist in believing that every decision imposed by those in au-thority is the only possible one in the circumstances, or the best in the absolute sense. The Church's infallibility is involved only in the order of the magisterium and not at all in the purely jurisdictional order. No doubt, of course, the Holy Spirit assists those in authority to pre-ser~, e them from making blunders in the exercise of their power. But the Holy Spirit has never promised to guaran-tee them against every blunder in the sphere of govern-ment. The possibility of erroneous decisions will always be with the Church (like certain of its other marksl). But one thing remains certain; nothing can shake it, not even the possibility of error: God wants us to obey His delegates when they give legitimate orders. The Son of God made the Church His Body; and He decreed that the obedience which began in the Head should con-tinue in the Body, such that obedience is integrated with the Church's very existence. It is a vital law in the Body of Christ. Yet for all-this our Lord did not prom-ise His ministers, governing or teaching, all the human talents that might be necessary for a task which is ut-terly beyond, them. He sought the leaders and' teachers of His early Church on the Lake of Gennesaret not in the schools or in the council chambers of kings. And the same is true today. Not all the popes are the most wise and clever or learned, or even saints. Thus the real is-sue in religious obedience will always be in the spiritual order. The point at issue is simply this, that we must re-member in our own lives the words of the Lord: He who hears you hears me. And when He uttered these words, He knew what sort of men His own disciples were; he knew the level of their training and of their intelligence; even the limits of their generosity. Yet He still said:~ "He who hears you hears me and Him who sent me,. my Father," s0 From all this it follows that until the subject comes to.see in her superior the authority of the Master, there can be no real living religious obedience that is truly supernatural. 'For the subject is asked to see the presence of Christ and His directive providence whenever the su-perior commands her to fulfill the constitutions or rules or the laws which she has voluntarily and freely taken upon herself. We can go so far as to say that if Christ Himself. were to appear at the moment a. religious su-perior is giving us a command, He Himself would either give this same command or permit it to be given for some greater good He has in mind. By entering a reli-gious community one voluntarily enters upon a training program by which she is enabled to tend to the perfec-tion of cha~:ity. She enters what Benedict called the school of the Lord's service. And like a,ny0ne in any school, she has to be taught and instructed and exer-cised to attain the end for which she entered. And that demands being placed under a master or leader, at le'ast as far as those things which pertain to the religious life. are concerned. And while this process of learning may one day be terminated, such fhat the le~ider can no longer teach the religious who may be older and moie experienced than she in religion, still the exercising of one in obedience will always be necessary so that the habitual inclination to obey will not become rusty for want of practice and exercise. The ,dims of "Religious Obedience Proceeding to the aims of religious obedience we find them to be four: (1) it cuts away solicitude; (2) it di-rects us to the fullness of charity; (3) it enables us" to ful~ fill a sacramental mission in the Church; and (4) it effects a community of service for the Body of Christ. The first aim of religious obedience is somewhat .nega-tive in tone. You are all familiar with it. It attempts to cut away the constant solicitude as to .what we should do, where we should live, and how we should direct our ® See A. de Bovis, S.J., The Church:" Christ's Mystery and Sa~ra. rnent (New York: Hawthorn, 1961), pp. 123-4. Obed~,nce VOLUME 25, 1966 + + + C. A. SchCle.Sc.kC,. REVIEW:FOR RELIGIOUS 186 lives. This we do by placing our lives in the hands of another or others who represent for us God. The ab-negation of self which is involved in 0bedi~nce is quite well defined in such a practice. As the recent decree on adaptation and renewal in the religious life has it: In professing obedience religious offer the full surrender of their own will as a sacrifice of themselves to God and so are united permanently and securely to God's salvific will. After the example of Jesus Cliristwho came to do the will of the Father, an d "assumi-ng the nature of a slave" learned obedience in the school of suffering, religious under the motion of the Holy Spirit subject themselves in faith to their superiors who hold the place of God.°1 While abnegation is involved in all obedience, in reli-gious obedience it becomes a constant and permanent dynamic and not something that is exercised only from time to time.Indeed, from a negative viewpoint, it is this constant and complete renunciation of our own will in preference to that of another wherein we find. our sanctity and wherein we find a holocaustal offering of our wills to God rather than a mere sacrificial offering of them to Him. That is why Christ in laying down the injunction for tile highest sanctity and perfection very frankly and openly said "He who would be my disciple must deny himself." 62 Without this personal abnega-tion there can be no sanctity which patterns itself after that of our Lord, that is, there is no sanctity which can call itself fully Christian. If we are to derive from reli- . gious obedience all of its fruit in the way of renuncia-tion of our own .wills, then we must subject them to the concrete will or wills of those superiors who are placed over us to mediate to us the will of God in our regard. From this it should be clear that religious obedience is established on the obedience of Christ, the following of Christ, which attained its full measure in the sacrifice of the Cross. If the religious consecration is derived from the consecration of Christ to the work of redemption, the vow of obedience has its source in the redemptive obedience of Christ. Therefore it is entirely insufficient to justify the vow of obedience by making exclusive ap-peal to the need for one authority for the organization of a life in community or for the carrying out of an ~postolate. This would be to make the mistake of con-side. ring religious obedience as merely a vehicle for apostolic activity. This notion of obedience as ordering us for community action is indeed a necessary part of religious obedience, especially in an active community, but the vow does not have for its exclusive object or Vatican II, Decree on Adaptation. Lk 9:23. end the development of obedience under the title of a purely social virtue such as is true of Marxist com-munism. It has for one of its properly religious values the task and aim of assimilating the life of the religious to that of Christ, to make pass into the person the fundamental attitude of the Redeemer. And as such it is meant to lead to the personal sanctification of the one who enters upon this way of life.°8 A second aim of religious obedience and one much more positive than the preceding is its close connection with the religious' growth in charity. We mentioned above that the practice of religious obedience differs from that of obedience practiced in a civil or natural society in that it puts us into more immediate contact with the will of God than does the latter. It is meant to bring about the perfect "unum velle" and the perfect "unum nolle" of our wills with that of Christ. For to love God is not merely to surrender or give up some-thing of our own will. It is to adhere positively and firmly to the will of the one we love~ It is to transform the willing of ourselves into that of the person we love. The more constant and actual this union of wills be-comes~: the more actual and constant does our love for this person become. And to love God means to do what He desires; it is to obey. The gospel makes this quite clear.64 That is why obedience in a religious commu-nity, which reaches to every action of a person's life, contributes so efficaciously to bring about the perfect union of wills which is the goal of the Christian life and in which Christian perfection consists. This is, as we know, Christian perfection, a union of Jove or charity or agapd, or a union in love, charity, and agapd. It is quite important that your religious understand this connection. As we have seen above, often in the order transmitted to us by superiors there'is an apparent lack of logic which at times might even seem to contradict a profound personal obedience (it goes against my con-science!). This difficulty can only be solved with love, a love that transmits and a love that accepts. The problem of obedience cannot ever be resolved in exact terms; it is more an intuition than the result of a logical proc-ess. We must frequently offer ourselves without seeing the result of our actions. This we can do only if we discover the relationship of love in obedience. It is love which provides the special intuition which makes it pos-sible [or both the one who obeys and the one who com-mands to arrive at the conclusion: I know that I can ~ See J. Galot, S.J., "R~demption et vie religieuse," in La vie re-ligieuse dans l'Eglise du Christ, p. 109. ~ Paoli, "Obedience," p. 278; Mt 22:37--40; Rom 13:I0; Gal 5:14; Jn 14:21; 15:10; 1 Jn 2:5; 3:24; 5:3. + + + Obedience VOLUME'25, 1~66 187 ÷ ÷ C. A. SchCle.Sc.kC,. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 188 trust myself to her or, more exactly, to Him, We will abandon ourselves entirely to a person and to his will once we feel that his will needs no justification because we love the person. We do what he wishes because it pleases him, and all that pleases him gives us joy because we love him.65 If this is ever true, it is certainly true when the other person involved is God. Obedience when understood in this light is the supreme instrument o[ charity; and once this is truly accepted by a religious, then her obedience is not going to be merely something that pertains to one of the virtues connected with jus-tice, or'a rendering of what she owes to someone or to a community because of her having surrendered herself to it. No, her obedience will go and was meant to go beyond this. It was intended to allow her to submit her-self to the direction of another, God, not merely because she considers Him to be the commander of her life but because He is one whom she has chosen as her Spouse,. because He is one whom she loves, because He is one With whom she has entered into a marital relationship of the spirit. Thus obedience, especially in the case of the religious sister should become an occasion for her pure love for Christ her Spouse and, as such, should realize the most perfect submission possible to another, one that ends in the ecstasy of one will in that of an-other, or of the person loving in the person of the be-loved." It is only when and where a religious sister has made this her idea and ideal of obedience that it be-comes not just a means of arriving at the perfection of charity but also a concrete way in which she can show or express, sacramentalize the love of charity or agapd which, she has toward Christ. Obedience becomes a sign of charity, an act by which she adheres to the will of one whom she loves, as a bride adheres to the will and the desires and good pleasure of her husband. Unless this love enters into her practice of obediehce it can easily remain sterile or, if having sprung up, die or wither. And the grain of wheat which fell into the ground at the time of profession never really does die, as Christ uses this figure. Rather, it remains alone and never does produce the fruit which it should and which it was meant to produce by the sower who placed the seed of vocation in her heart rather than in that of someone else. Still a third aim of religious obedience is that it be sacramental, that is, that it propose to us in visible form some extremely important truth of salvation. This was true in the case of Christ who is the sacrament of God's encounter with man and man's encounter with Paoli, "Obedience," pp. 287-8. k God. In Christ not only were God and His love for man revealed, but God also showed us in Him what it is for man to commit himself unconditionally to God the invisible Father. It was only upon His rising from the dead, because of the love and obedience of His life, that the Father established Him in power, or absolutely as Christ, the sender of the Spirit. In the Church also, the extension of Christ on earth, or the earthly body of Christ, it is in the word of obedience that God's will becomes manifest to us. This is why to a certain extent in the case of religious obedience, the word of.obedience is sacramental. It is not so much a word about some-thing as rather the sign under which God's saving will in Christ makes itself present for us here and now within our history. It is in and through obedience, through the word of authority that God's saving reality can address itself to spiritual persons, calling on them for the free obedience of faith and trusting surrender of love. Sal-vation becomes present to religious in the word of obedi-ence, a word which calls for a free personal assent. 'Christ's going out from the Father into the world, a world at enmity with God because of its sins, receives a commission to bear witness to mankind's dependence and need for even more dependence upon God. Only when He had lived His Sonship through to the very end in total obedience to the Father even to the death of the Cross was His divine Sonship fully revealed. Thus it was through His human life that the abiding expression of the Son's obedience to the Father became visibly ex-pressed, and it was His death itself that was the supreme expression or epiphany of His religious surrender to the Father. This self-giving in the way of obedience through self-dispossession is the very essence of the religious com-mitment in the service of God.6~ Thus the practice of obedience as a community affair and as a personal affair is intended to be a constant and visible reminder to all who see religious that all men, all creatures will have true joy only by remaining in a continuous and permanent state of complete and entire dependence on God, a state in which the love of a creature is constantly responding to the love of the Creator, or in the case of religious women a state of de-pendence in which the love of a bride is constantly re-sponding to the love and entreaties of her husband. Man has need of this image since the relationship of man-kind with God is feminine as Scripture so often points out. This sacramentalism of obedience has been very clearly shown by St. Paul in referring to Christian mar-riage: "You married women must subordinate your- ~ Schillebeeckx, Christ the Sacrament, pp. 18--9, 28. ÷ ÷ ÷ Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 189 4. 4. C,. A. $chleck, ~.$.C. REVIEW,'FOR RELIGIOUS 190 selves to your husbands as to the Lord. For a husband is the head of his wife just as Christ is the head of :the Church which :is his Body and is saved by Him. Just as the Church is in subjection to Christ, so married women must be in everything subject to their hus-bands." a~ As we mentioned when speaking of virginity, the marriage of the virgin.with Christ is the prototype or the model or exemplar of that existing between husband and wife. Thus the submission and obedience of the virgin of Christ to her Lord is to be the model or sacra-ment for all Christian men and women and also for the whole body of redeemed and unredeemed mankind, since this is called to relationship with Christ as His body-person, as His immaculate spouse, wedded to Him 'forever in undying love and submission or surrender, as He is to His Father, Thus there is a sacramental reality attached to the religious obedience of the woman that is not present in the case of the man. And it is this very ¯ modification which can make the practice of obedience something powerful and attractive. And it is this sacra-mental purpose of obedience that meets the need of the Church today. For it is more important than ever to show that obedience is universal in character ~and be-longs to the very, life of the Church. Religious life is not just an "extra, with regard to the Christian life; it is its mOSt~ striking .visible manifestation. Obedience brings to it the completion of our baptismal faith or perfects the consecration proper-to baptism,as If religious life and particularly obedience are to be truly a manifestation of the Christian. life in its perfection, then they must be truly radiant, .truly perfect. Only then~ will they serve their purpose for .existence in the Church; only then wil! they be 'truly alive and dynamic in the Church.a9 It is because of this sacramental aspect of obedience in ~ Eph 5:22 ft. ~ "Thus the profession of the evangelical counsels is a super-addition to that consecration which is proper to baptism. It is in-deed a special consecration which perfects the former oue,.iuasmuch as by it the follower ~f Christ totally commits himself and dedi-cates himself to God; thereby making his entire life a service to God alone" (Paul VI, Magno gaudio a~ecti; REVIEW VOR RI~LXGIOUS, V. 25 [1964], pp. 699-700). See also the Constitution on the Church, Chap-ter 6, n. 44; REVIEW VOR R~LIclous, v. 24 (1965), pp. 714-5; and J. Laplace, ':Education to Obedience," pp. 68-9. ~.This note of "sacramentality" should be seriously considered in all changes and adaptations. It is said that regularity weighs much less on young religious today than ever before. Remarks about re-ligious exercises are rather disparaging. They are considered quite out-of-date or naive~most probably because the values of these things have not been clearly presented. As one author remarks: "It is quite evident that we are suffering from a very evident lack of clear principles presenting valueJ behind certain religious exercises and regularity." We know that when values are not seen neither are the exercises. See M. Belanger, O.M.L, "Donum Dei" 3, pp: 106-7. religion that those who obey should obey as though they were obeying Christ or as the New Testament has it, "as to the Lord." 70 Those who are obeyed shot~ld find the pattern of their conduct in the love and care of Christ, and they must also remember that they in tLirn owe obedience to Christ also. It is in this way that subordination will be met by love and concern. To un-derstand the aims of obedience thus far discussed in this light would seem tocorrectly place obedience in our striving after the perfection of charity. It would give to both superiors and to subjects their respective roles and attitudes and mentalities towards this practice: It points out that the first and chief concern of all superiors, es-pecially major, is the. leading of their subjects to inti-mate union with God. Their primary duty is not the un-raveling of the material and °temporal and financial difficulties of their office nor the successful carrying out of the external apostolates and activities entrusted to the congregation or order. It is to "lead their subjects to God. It is only to the extent that they fulfill this duty that they are making their greatest contribution and gift to God, to the Church, and to their own religious family. To destroy or forget this role of the superior in a religious community is to destroy the [amily atmos-phere that God intended to characterize every religious society. For a superior can too easily become a purely juridical figure or image, one who gives out permis-sions of one kind or another or one who is merely an ad-ministrator, one who organizes the community's work and policies. And then she very quickly loses her primary role, that of being a mother to those of her daughters whom God's providence has placed under her direction so that they might be helped to the perfection of char-ity by reason of her having been in labor until Ghrist was formed in them. It is only when authority is sus-tained by love that it becomes authority in the real and true sense of the word. For only then can it look to God and to the love of God as its real foundation. For His authority is always ultimately a loving authority,~ even when it punishes or corrects.71 It is true that you can say that your religious when taking vows knew that a great sacrifice would be expected of them, the re-nunciation of their wills, their families, the happiness of marriage, and the intimacy of a family and horiae. But all this is a sacrifice, and your own religious because they are usually among the most high-souled and gen-erous women in the Church feel it most keenly. It is most impo.rtant that this element of love be inserted into Eph 5:22. The States o] Per[ection, p. 324. + + + Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 ]91 th~ exercise of authority in your-case; for as Pius XII re-marked once in speaking to superiors of religious com-munities of~women: It is no doubt true as psychology affirms that the woman in-vested with authority does not succeed as easily as a man in finding the exact formula for combining strictness with kindness and establishing the balance between them. That is an added reason for cultivating your .motherly sentiments.7' Where this spirit is present, you can be assured that the overall characteristic note of religious discipline and" obedience will be found both in the individual houses as well as in the community at large filial confidence and family warmth. It is this :spirit which includes com-plete embracing of rules and customs that lessens your own burdens and is so, conducive both to your own most ardent desires as well as those of your ~eligious the personal and corporate sanctification of all the members. You will always find that where there is mu-tu~ il conviction of'good will, a true family spirit in which.the authority of those in charge is respected and the needs and the different temperaments of those working with those in charge are taken into considera-tion is always present. And it is only this presence that can make of an individual house or an entire com-munity what it was meant to be in the sight of the en-tire Church and world: a training ground and a proving C. A. Schleck, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ra Address to Mothers General, 1952; The States of Perfection, p. 217. When I speak of a mother-daughter relationship, I am not advocating a type of relationship that begets or retains an emo-tional infantilism. This has been defined as "a persistence of re-sponses in an adult that indicates a manner of coping with needs and reacting in a way that corresponds to the psychological attitude or modality of childhood" (M. Oraison, Illusion and Anxiety [New York: Macmillan, 1963], p. 133). There is an exaggerated dependence with fear of responsibility and an unreasonable need of affection and approval. It is often this last need for affection and approval ~hat has given rise to much criticism from subjects who feel mature and yet are the most insecure members of the communityl This in-fantilism comes most often from inadequate home training. And how is religion to cope. with this? It can be done, but it is not easy. God did not allow religious institutes to come into being for the specific purpose of training emotional infants. The family is th~ unit established for thisI As Pius says: "A religious house differs ~rom the family home; it is not the same and does not try to be, because within its walls zeal for dedication and self-denial for the love ~of Christ, and the austere penitential practices [I think he would say possible todayl] involve some measure of discomfort and pain, N~vertheless, as far as possible the religious house shall en-deavor to become a loved family home for each one of the com-munity. And undoubtedly this will be' achieved more easily if all alike respect the foundation structure of the natural virtues which ~requently are the proof of abundant supernatural vigor and splendor" (Address to Discalced Carmelites, 1951; The States oI Perfection, p. 204). ground for sanctity, a kind of an ante-chamber to the beatific vision. Still a fourth aim of religious obedience is the effec-tive building of a community of service for the needs of the Body of Christ. While we cannot and must not make the efficiency of the external .apostolate or the creation of a well-ordered community the exclusive end of the prac-tice of religious obedience, it is nonetheless an end and an important one. This results from what we saw above of the very nature and purpose of authority-itself---the creation of the common good or the good of the com-munity. The Church exists as a mystery of communion, of the many in the one Body of Christ. In the building up of Christ's Body the different members have different functions to fulfill, functions which are meant to build up and unify the whole human race which is called to be part of the catholic unity of the People of God. It is especially through the practice of obedience that reli-gious are brought into community both to be a sigh'of the perfect community of love, the community of the earthly Church and that of the pa.rousia, and also to be at the service of the Church. All the energies and tal-ents and training of the various members are ordered and dovetailed tO be put at the service of Christ and His Church. In fact it is quite true to say that the theol-ogy of obedience and authority is in a special way a theology of unity~and communion. Such a spirit is so welcome in an age when we.are trying to correct some of the deviations which may have unintentionally crept into religious obedience b~ a heavy concentration on its legal aspects. While it is and will always remain very necessary for both superiors and subjects to know exactly and precisely what is involved in the canonical prescriptions of obedience or that amount of obedience without which the community or society could not possibly hope to achieve its objectives, it still remains the function of superiors to urge and of subjects to strive to attain the perIection of obedience or the spirit of obedience. Whereas canonical obedience prescribes and .correcdy sets very ~definite limits to the minimum practice required of the members of a reli-gious society, perfect obedience ,inclines one to look upon everything contained in the religious life as an op-portunity by means of which the members can bring their 'wills and their persons, their whole persons, into perfect accord with the will and the heart of Christ and His Church. It will tend to make them attain the ulti-mate end for which they enter religion--to suppress all selfishness of their special points of view and rejoice to be hsed for the one great work of the redemption of the human race. While it is true that in the last analysis + 4. + Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 + + ÷ C. A. SchCle.Sc.kC,. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 194 it is the individual religious who will ultimately choose which of the two extensions of obedience she 4s going to take as her rule or norm--minimal obedience or per-fect-- authority does have much to do in shaping or forming a religious to one or other point of view. If authority continues to build up during the years of formation and also afterwards a greater awareness of the aims which we have just presented, it is much more likely that each religious would realize more and more as the years of her life pass by the promise of our Lord Himself to those who consent to follow Him closely: "My ~oke is sweet and my burden is ligh_ t." 7s How simply has all this been stated in the decrees of the Vatican Council: ¯. in order that he might derive greater fruit from his bap-tismal grace, he decides to free himself by his profession in the Church of the evangelical counsels from the impediments which might keep him from the fervor of charity and from giving God a perfect worship . Since the evangelical counsels by reason of the charity to which they lead, unite those who take them to the Church and her mystery in a special way, the spiritual life of those taking them should be consecrated also to the good of the entire Church. in accord with their capacities and the nature of their vocation . " In professing obedience, religious offer the full surrender of their own will as a sacrifice of themselves to God and so are united permanently and securely to God's salvific will. After the example of Jesus Christ who came to do the will of the Father and "assuming the nature of a slave" learned obedience in the school of suffering, religious under the motion of the Holy Spirit, subject themselve~in faith to their superiors who hold the place of God. Under their guidance, they are led to serve all their brothers in Christ, just as Christ Himself in obedience to the Father served His brethren and laid down His life as a ransom for many. So they are closely bound to the service of the Church and strive to attain the measure of the full manhood of Christ. Religious, therefore, in the spirit of faith and love for the divine will should humbly obey their superiors according to their rules and constitutions. Realizing that they are con-tributing to building up the Body of Christ according to God's plan, they should use both the forces of their intellect and will and the gifts of nature and grace to execute the commands and fulfill the duties entrusted to them. In this way religious obedi-ence, far from lessening the dignity of the human person, by ex-tending the freedom of the sons of God leads it to maturity. Superiors, as those who are to givaen ~ account of the souls entrusted to them, should fulfill their office in a way responsive to God's will. They should exercise their authority out of a spirit of service to the brethren, expressing in this way the love with which God loves their subjects. They should govern these as sons of God, respecting their human dignity. In this way they make it easier for them to subordinate their wills,~ r~Mt 11:30. Vatican II, Constitution on the Church, Chapter 6, n. 44; R~- wrw roa Rr_meious, v. 24 (1965), p. 714. Vatican II, Decree on Adaptation. The Qualities oI Religious Obedience Under this partic~ular heading many various consider-ations could be taken up. It seems best, however, to limit ourselves to a few by reason of their special con-temporaneity or timeliness: supernaturalness, interior-ness, and activeness. The Supernatural Quality o[ Obedience Perhaps no other quality of religious obedience seems to be suffering more today than that of its supernatural-hess. So many questions about and so many defections from the religious life, especially among older reli-gious, would seem to hinge on the motive because of which they live the religious life. This must be, funda-mentally at least, supernatural. And if religious obedi-ence is to be supernatural, then subjects must learn to obey, to carry out the tasks to which they are assigned and the rules and constitutions because these things represent for them the will of God, at least permissive, here and now. The pleasure or 'lack of pleasure that such an action gives or might give should not be the con-trolling motive; nor should the agreeableness or disagree-ableness of the person giving the command or making the decision; nor should the hope of some reward or advancement or fear of reprisal or anything such. The controlling motive in religious obedience should be: God has asked me to do this. The decisive reason for which we owe obedience to religious superiors is the authority invested in them by God. This authority is a supernatural qual!ty and is distinct from all qualities that may adorn a superior in the natural order. In.a sense it belongs t6 the order of charisms and is conferred by God through proper channels for the good of the religious commu-nity. It belongs to the order of faith both for the superior who needs more than the light of reason to recognize it and for the subject who comes to see God in the supe-rior by calling on his faith and who can come to tr6at the superior as God's representative only with the help of filial piety that is entirely supernatural.TM It belongs also to the order of love. For religious are urged to constantly strive to look beyond their superiors, direct-ing their obedience to the source of all authority, God, and to do so out of love and for love. As we have seen, the purpose or aim of obedience is to promote the growth of love; and love, in turn, is intended to enliven obedience and make it more fruitful. As our love grows deeper, so will our obedience to the great benefit of our own interior lives and to the incalculable profit of those who come under our personal influence. The true liberty ~6 Belanger, "Donum Dei" $, pp. 122-3. ÷ ÷ ÷ Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 195~ 4. 4. 4. C. .4. $chleck, C.S,C. REV1EWFOR RELIGIOUS 196 of a religious consists not in initiative and responsibil-ity nor in terms of independence, at least primarily; it consists in perfect dependence on God, a dependence that is voluntary and cultivated as actively as possi-ble. For who is less a slave than a will that is truly mas-ter of the lower appetites and that has once and for all given itself entirely to the supreme good. It is Charles de Foucauld who once remarked that Christ took the lowest place in such a way that no one can ever take it from Him. This desire to be forgotten and unknown in loving imitation of the rejected Christ still represents the highest reach of Christian asceticism. There is no question, of course, of shrinking from great apostolic works or wasting one's talents. We are speaking of an attitude, a willingness to be content with the task as-signed, and of preference for the lower or less esteemed, when God's glory would permit such a choice.77 This is the ideal motivation to be looked for in regard to religious obedience. Yet if we are to believe reports and experience, it is much more difficult to achieve today than before.7s We seem to be faced with an acceptance of submission that is based on or conceived of in terms of sensitive interpersonal relationships, of liberties and rights to be safeguarded, of discussions with superiors, of private initiatives to be exercised, and, in the, case of some at least, of necessary resistance" to legitimately ex-ercised authority--a kind of religious sit-in. Again we find that there is a good deal of insecurity in the present generation of young people coming to us, even though this may be masked by an apparent confidence and poise, even forwardness. This insecurity, plus the brain-washing they receive through the various media of com-munication, tends to impel them to seek status. This is not always, perhaps not even usually, merely a selfish want. It is a genuine need for a position of security that will assure them of the esteem and support 0f others. Young religious, especially in communities in which counseling or nursing or teaching or other professional work is generally done, manifest considerable anxiety about possible prospects of being assigned to advanced study and also notable frustration and depression if they are passed over. Despite the democratic myth, status positions are a very prominent feature of our society. The only difference between now and before was that yesterday status was rigid; it was that into which you were born; today it is mobile, it is what you make it. Yet it is there as a frenetic push up and down some ladder reflecting insecurity and acting as a feedback to increase 7~ L. Bondy, C.S.B., "Donum Dei" 3, p. 153. ~ G. George, S.J., "Donum Dei" 3, pp. 82 ft. it.TM In the novitiate it may be piety--provided it is not too eccentric--whereas in the juniorate and later on it may be professional excellence even to the point of this becoming a kind of neurotic ambition. The real author-ity figures are the professors or teachers who replace the novice mistress or even juniorate mistress. And the area of competition and prestige shifts from spiritual competence and excellence to excellence in studies,s0 Again, we also find that after some years of profes-sional service in one or other of the apostolates of the community, the supernatural motivation has either not grown at all or has even notably regressed. And then obedience has become for such members only a trial, only a series of fetters and frustrations, so that psy-chologically they become convinced that the community and the religious life is more of a hindrance than a help not only professionally, but also spiritually, that is, in their striving after the perfection of love of God and neighbor. And we all know that there is nothing more painful than to see certain religious lose even the pri-mordial meaning and motivation of their vocation and forget the why of their presence in religious life and fall more and more into a state of regret for having entered and of irritation,sl In fact we can say that the really crucial moment of religious life comes some ten or fif-teen years after entrance, and it usually revolves on the question of obedience. The dream of perfect surrender if it was present earlier appears for what it really is, a daily cross even for the most holy. A less painful solu-tion than sanctity or defection is always at hand---the path of comfortable mediocrity. The problem is solved by simply lowering the ideal, often seeing it primarily or exclusively in terms of sociological and psychological terms and structures and solutions. The motives learned in the early years of formation lose their cogency, and they become an encumbrance rather than a help.s2 As a result of these problems brought about by the societal structure of today there is a growing tendency to feel that reasons must always be given a subject every-time she is asked to do something or given an assign-ment. And this is supported by the argument that only ~See V. Packard, The Status Seekers (New York: McKay, 1959), p. 253. so If this is not handled carefully by those in charge through constant education, formal and informal, intense inner conflict and confusion can result. The tensions in some community juniorates and scholasticates would bear out this idea of "value conflict." s~ Much of this is brought on by changes in outlook and by cer-tain crises considered in our treatment of virginity and to be men-tioned further on in this article. s~ Later on in the part on practical suggestions we shall see what can be done to forestall this occurrence. Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 197 4. c. ~. S~hled~, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS that authority is really strong which obtains consent and participation rather than mere compliance. To give orders is easy but to obtain commitment and intellec-tual and intelligent participation is a major challenge. It is an inescapable responsibility of authority and one which can easily be overlooked. If this principle is used within limits (and I think that it has been oftenS3), it is true and can be followed with-out harming the supernatural motivation of religious obedience. But to make this principle apply at all times and in all circumstances, and especially within the con-text of strict parliamentary procedure and democracy, would exceed its applicability and would indeed destroy the very nature of religious obedience. Every attempt to reduce the relationship between superior and subject to one of mere dialogue between the two, a dialogue in which the subject would not be really obliged to follow the decision, or one in which the subject would be always allowed--by the v.ery nature of the contract--to make his own choice, would destroy the whole notion of obedience and render the relationship between superior and subject within a religious context meaningless. As Plus XII mentioned in an address to a general congre-gation of the Society of Jesus in 1957: And those persons are straying far from the truth who consider that the teaching of the Letter (St. Ignatius' Letter on Obedience) is to be abandoned, and that in place of hierarchical and religious obedience there should be substituted a certain "democratic" equality which would permit the subject to discuss with his superior until agreement between them is reached.~' It is true that where one carries out a command or obeys a constitution or rule which he thoroughly under-stands and with which he is heartily in agreement, there is no question of disobedience. But neither is there necessarily an act of the virtue of obedience. It is quite possible that the subject does what she is given to do from motives that are simply natural or human. And this particularly if training along the lines~.of supernat-ural obedience has never been insisted on. The habit of always giving the reasons for obedience or of point-ing out the reasonableness of the command or assignment given could easily cause a psychological stance that would make the reasonableness of the command and the fact that we both agree on this a condition for obey-ing. Then the virtue has been dethroned, and the per-son could be placed in a precarious vocational situation ~This is used well by A. Greeley, "Fraternal Authority," pp. 562-5. ~ The States of Per]ection, p. 295. This is "selective obedience" at its worst. See C. Davis, "A Catholic Obedience," America, Novem-ber 7, 1964. as far as perseverance is concerned. For there are and there will always undoubtedly be situations in religion when a person will come under a superior who does not wish to or who cannot always give reasons or point out the reasonableness of something which has to be done. For sometimes, to point out the reasons would mean the violation of a secret (the reputation of another member of the community) entrusted to a superior only in virtue of her office, and perhaps after much prayer and reflec-tion, on the part of a subject. I am not saying that reasons should not be given and even frequently, perhaps. For supernatural obedience to really take effect, the formation of the natural on all levels (and not just will-power formation) must also be present. Candidates of 17-18-19-20 are in full adoles-cent development. They are products of today and the societal structures of today; and there is nothing to be gained by closing our eyes to what they are or what they come from, all that I have-mentioned above, demo-cratic environment, a milieu of status-striving, an at-mosphere of constant questioning, and striving for inde-pendence. In fact, we can even ask ourselves seriously whether or not the cultural determinants in the United States today do not make it much more difficult for the majority of young religious to ever arrive at real ex-cellence in the supernatural practice of obedience. At least it is more difficult to arrive there. And superiors and those in training programs must accept this fact.s5 Thus it is very useful and necessary to give specific rea-sons for which things are done to facilitate obedience in the subject (to enlighten their minds before they act), to increase maturity, and even to prevent criticism. Thus the natural good and the spiritual good of the subjects dspecially in the very early training years would dictate that such a policy could and should be followed. But as the theology and meaning of religious obedience is ex-plained to them, occasions, not artificial or contrived but natural and arising out of circumstances, should be given to subjects when they will not be given the rea-sons why they are asked to do this or that. These of course should be given according to the capacity of each subject. This grad~4al training will most likely be much slower today. What we regard as alarming and perhaps a symptom of decline in regard to religious motivation and the nature of the young girl is a retarded appearance of a rather normal adolescence crisis centering around the struggle for independence from authority. Likewise in the case of older religious passing through an obedience crisis (usually around the mid-thirties), you s~ G. George, S.J., "Donum Dei" 3, pp. 82-$; L. Bondy, ibid., pp. 151-2. 4- 4- 4- Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 ]99 4- REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS will find pressures making it extremely difficult for them to'respond in an ideal way. She must be helped through this to a deeper and more mature self-gift in and through obedience without sacrificing the essentials of the super-natural quality of obedience merely to keep peace in the family or keep a restless section of the community pacified. Thus the real danger in regard to the supernatural quality of obedience today lies not in the acceptance of the subjects as they are at various stages of personal and cultural development (for this is necessary), but in superiors not willing or a[raid to make the effort to lead them higher and [urther, to a more per[ect supernat-ural obedience as described above. Religious obedience like everything else that pertains to the order of grace is very ofte6 mysterious and demands a deep spirit of faith. Faith, however, is of things that are not seen, of things that lie beyond the grasp and comprehension of mere human reason. They pertaiia to another order of things, the supernatural order, the order of eternity or God in time, and consequently must remain mysterious. Not to train a religious gradually and in keeping with her capac.ity to live in this order would be to destroy the supernatural spi.rit that must lie at the very root of reli-gious obedience.8~ The In~erior Quality o[ Obedience A second quality that must characterize religious obedience and that stands in need of clarification today is its inter.iorness, For obedience to be truly interior, one that touches the very heart of man and not merely a mechanical exterior compliance with directives, it must touch both the will and the intellect. In fact, exterior obedience should be the crowning action of religious obedience embodying and giving visibility to the interior obedience of the will and the intellect. So often obedience of the will is badly misunderstood. It is taken as dying to self-will or as annihilating one's will. This is true if we speak of the specifically selfish in the will, its ill-regulated aspect, But in another and perhaps far more accurate sense obedience per[ects the will instead of suppressing it. It is not a passive virtue consisting in not-wanting. It is positive and active and is meant to consist in wanting as intensely as possible ~The greatest thinkers, often those who have personally suf-fered much from authority, have generally been its staunchest de-fenders and the most supernaturally obedient of men. Teilhard de Chardin i:ould write: "In spite of Rome's having its own r~asons for judging that in the present form my concept of Christianity may be premature or incomplete, I am resolved to remain a child of obedience." what God wants. And in this it finds its highest perfec-tion ~nd fulfillment. The will attains its perfection when it is in possession Of its object, which is the good; and the greater the good, the more is the will perfected. Since the divine will is the object of the human will in religious obedience, the human will is perfected in a supreme degree. In a sense, then, obedience of the will is meant to touch and fashion the whole heart so that a religious ever more fully obeys as life progresses, not through constraint but rather through a connatural in-clination or through that inclination which comes through the gradual growth of the virtue. Just as the eyes are instinctively attracted by beauty of sight and the ears by beauty or harmony of sound, so too the will of a re-ligious should as the years pass by become more and more connaturally attracted by the good which it finds in obedience to God. A religious obeys or should obey because she recognizes the right of another to'command her and because she wishes this other person to have this right and because she loves the order that has been given. Only the supernatural virtue of obedience can bring about this love of authority and command in the life of a religious, and this is not an easy task. It is a constant struggle, but it is something that she should be aiming at from the moment that she embraces this life. And it will certainly grow in the religious who co-operates with all the graces given her in this regard. Obedience so understood does not consist in con-straint, It is rather a free act which alone has full value before God. And it is a kind of sacramental embodiment of the stance of our Lord: ,I lay down my life; no one can rob me of it; for I lay it down of my own accord." 87 In fact we might note that it is to facilitate this obedi-ence in freedom that in nearly all communities the rules and constitutions do not of themselves oblige under pain of sin. It is with this object in view, to draw' out,of subjects a free and voluntary obedience, that most supe-riors today prefer to request rather than to issue strict commands.88 When we come to the other side of interior obedience, obedience o[ the intellect, we touch on a problem that can easily present extreme difficulties both for subjects and for superiors. We have often heard it said that for obedience to be perfect it demands the submission of one's judgment as well as of one's will. This has to be understood carefully, however, Often it is understood to mean that the religious is forced to abdicate her judg-ment and the normal exercise of her intellect. Yet when + + 4- Obedience 8*Jn 10:17-8. ss R. Morency, S.J., "Donum Dei" 3, pp. 16~-5. VOLUME 25, 1966 4. C. A. $chleck, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS correctly understood, religious obedience, just as it re-spects the normal orientation of the will, also respects the normal orientation of the intellect. What religious obedience demands is that we submit to others, the rules and constitutions and legitimate authority, our prac-tical judgment at all times, save where an obviously sinful action is prescribed. It also requires that we sub-mit our speculative judgment when this is possible. I say "when this is possible" because what is sacrificed by religious obedience is our speculative judgment. But if there happens to be an instance in which the judgment to be made is not ours to make but is dictated by norms or laws or principles extrinsic to us (and well-qualified norms), then we cannot sacrifice our judgment nor do we have the right to sacrifice it because the judgment in this case is really not ours to give. Such would be the case in the following rather obvious examples: two plus two equals five, or square pegs are best put into round holes. Our speculative judgment could not pos-sibly make us accept these judgments simply because they are not ours to give. They are dictated by norms extrinsic and objective to ourselves which we cannot change and have no right to change. Thus obedience of the judgment does not consist in our bowing before every decision of superiors without judgment of any kind. Quite the opposite. Obedience of the judgment requires the exercise and the use of one's judgment. Nor does obedience of the judgment de-mand that we think the same as our superior thinks or that we judge to be most perfect in itself all that the superior commands, speculatively speaking. The supe-rior is not infallible and can make mistakes. She can at times act imprudently and even unjustly,s° This difficulty, while perhaps rarer in the past because often superiors were far better educated than their sub-jects, is one that is frequent in religious life today. Many subjects have as good, if not better, training in their fields of work than their superiors. We may have a superior of a community engaged in hospital work who ¯ has never been trained in the field. It is quite likely that the problems of the religious engaged in that work will not always be understood by her or handled in the wis-est and most prudent manner. Or we have a superior of a house of philosophy or theology who has spent his en-tire priestly life in parish work or in the field of mis-sionary endeavor. It is quite possible for such a person to make decisions which the subjects, let us say the fac-ulty members, know by their own experience of years of teaching not to be the most prudent or wise. To such Ibid., pp. 177, 162. judgments and decisions no subject can yield his or her speculative judgment simply because he or she does not possess the right or the ability to yield or to make this judgment conform to that of the one in charge. Obedience of judgment, then, does not demand that we canonize all the actions of superiors nor obey be-cause and to the extent that the command is reason-able as this is usually understood. It demands that she recognize this principle: "It does not belong to me to make the decision; it belongs to the superior." Thus a religious cannot regulate her own will or what she does by her own judgment but by the judgment of the su-perior since it is this judgment that she has taken as her rule of action in the practical here and.now situation. She sees in it the designs of God Himself directing her to the end which He has set up foi- her from all eternity. By obedience she vows to give up acting on and accord-ing to her own judgment independently of superiors, which is not the same as giving up the right to make a judgment or to form one. To give up this right would destroy the liberty and freedom and the voluntariness which is so essential in making religious obedience the holocaustal offering of one's will to God. For obedience is not simply a mechanical action on the part of a hu-man person. It is a most personal action and therefore should be freely accomplished. It is an action in which the subject [reely adjusts her will to that of the superior. TO obey without having' moral certitude that such an act is licit is immoral simply because a person is respon-sible for all that she accomplishes, even of that which she does out of obedience. Here, of course, we must be cautious. To establish that an order is legitimate does not take long reflection. In fact, if there is long reflec-tion about the legitimacy of a command, it is usually a sign that the person is psychologically disturbed or hy-percritical and is not an appropriate instrument to de-termine if in the concrete an order is or is not legiti-mate. However, wherever there is question of mere opinion, then obedience will incline us to follow the opinion of the superior to the extent that this is possible. Often-times the position of the superior on something or other is somewhat doubtful, some reasons in favor of it, others opposed. In this case obedience of judgment asks that we consider rather the favorable reasons and be not too strongly attached to the possible objections, that is, if we are to assure a more perfect agreement of will and of judgment. This case often happens in regard to the more practical cases of action, assignments, and so forth, where the superior has a much wider acquaintance with all the factors involved in the decision, ,factors which 4- 4- 4- Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 2O3 ÷ C. A. $chleck, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS subjects cannot see because of their limited vision, fac-tors which affect individuals of the same or different houses or even persons outside the commfinity. Very of-ten a superior is faced with the alternative of the lesser of two evils. We should note that a truly obedient reli-gious wishes that the superior should be right and is always ready to renounce her own will and opinion with ease insofar as it is simply her own. This as we realize demands intense virtue, but it is a goal which every religious should be working to reach. As for "blind" obedience it must not be thought to consist in seeing nothing; rather it consists in submitting one's practical judgment to that of the superior even when the action commanded or the decision indicated to be followed is truly unreasonable from the merely human point of view. For the religious then obeys not becau

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

Issue 11.5 of the Review for Religious, 1952. ; A. M. D.G. ' ' Review for Religious SEPTEMBER i5, 1952 Congress of Religious . The Editors Towards Continual Prayer . Pa.I DeJaegher Cases o~ Illegitimacy . Joseph F. Gallen ' "~ . Pius XII and Our Lady . JohnA. Hardon "Meaning" of A.M.D.G . Walter ~J. Ong Q, uesfions and Answers Book No÷ices VOLUME XI NUMBER 5 REVIEW FOR. RELIGIOUS VOLUME XI SEPTEMBER, 1952 NUMBER 5 CONTENTS CONGRESS OF RELIGIOUS~The Editors . 225 TOWARDS CONTINUAL PRAYER--Paul De Jaegher, S.J . 231 OUR CONTRIBUTORS . ¯ . 241 PRACTICAL AND PASTORAL C/(SES ON ILLEGITIMACY~ Joseph F. Gallen, S.J . " . 242 COMMUNION CARD FOR HOSPITALS . 248 COMPLETE TEXT OF SPONSA CHRIST1 IN ENGLISH . 248 LEGISLATION OF SPON,$A CHRI,~TI . 248 POPE PIUS XII AND OUR LADY---3ohn A. Hardon. S.J . 249 "A.M.D.G.": DEDICATION OR DIRECTIVE~Waher J. Ong, S.J. 257 TEN-YEAR INDEX--LIMITED SUPPLY . 264 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERSm 21. Moral Obligation of Voting . 265 22. Boundary of Novitiate . 269 23. On Reading Rodriguez . 269 24. Change in the Habit . 270. 25. Applying Indulgences to Souls in Purgatory . 270 26. Honoring'Bequests for Masses . . . '. . 270 27. Unrealizable Desires for Sanctification . 271 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS . 272 BOOK NOTICES . 274 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, September, 1952. Vol. XL No. 4. Published bi-monthly: January, March, May, July, September, and November at the Colleg.e Press, 606 Harrison Street, Topeka, Kansas, by Sty Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approbation. Entered as second class matteb ,January 15, 1942, at the Post Office, Topeka, Kansas, under the a~t of March 3, 1879. Editorial Board: Jerome Breunig, S.J.; Augustine G. Ellard, S.J.; Adam C. Ellis, S.J.; Gerald Kelly, S.3.; Francis N. Korth, S.3. Copyright, 1952, by Adam C. Ellis, S.J. Permission is hereby granted for quota- ~ions of reasonable le.ngth; provided due credit be given this review and the author. Subscription price: 3 dollars a year; 50 cents a copy. Printed in U. S. A. Before writing to us, please consult notice on inside back cover. Congress ot: Religious The Editors ~"HE first National Congress of Religious of'the United States w.as .| held at "th~ University of Notre Dame, August 9 to 12, 1952. Three members of our editorial staff attended as delegates. At the various sessions we tried to note points that would be bf special interest to our readers: and, since it was impossible for us tobe per-sonally present at ail the different sectional, meetings, we asked many friends t~ make similar n6tes. ,The present report is made up from these notes "jottings" might be a better word. .Regarding our report, let us make two observations. First, it is not intended to be a complete a&ount of the Congress. Official Proceedings of the Congress will be published soon and will give this complete accountl ' Secondly, even as an incomplete account, our re-port is not adequate; it represents merely what a comparatively tiny number of de'legates considered point.s of spedal interest. It would .help us greatly if other delegates who read this rePort would Suppl~- ¯ ment (or~ correct, if need be) this material by sending us communi-cations containing their own impressions: And it would also ,help if any r.eaders, whether delegates or not, w, ould send their observations on the points recorded her~. This "request for commtinications r~eeds emp,hasis. The Congress opened up for discussion many vital points concerning our religious life; but because of lack of time it could do,no more than start the discussion. Readers' of this Review would do a great service to the ~ellgious life in this country if they would continue this discussion. by the frank and constructive expression of theii own observations-on these ~;ital points. Purposes of Congress " The Congress was summonedby the Sacred Congre~gfition of Religious, as a mean~ of intensifying and. strengthe.ning the religious life in the United States, of givii~g religious of all institutes an op-portunity to exchange ideas and particularly to discuss the problems ~ertaining to the adjustment of the religious life to ~onditions, pie- ¯ vailing in our land without compromising the principles on which the religious life is based. We believe that the. first purpose of.the Cbngress the intensi- ' ,225 THE EDITOP~ Review f6r, Retigious lying ~nd strengtt~ening of. our own. r~eligious life--~as. easily .the central point of the meetings andthat' ~ good start was m~de towards its accomplishment.~ C~rtainly all of us were~ inspire~d with-the de'sire of becoming better religious arid of making our" institutes more.effec-tive means in the great work of the Church. As c~n'e Sisterwho helped us p~epare?these notes put it:. "Probabl~ among the fi, nest outcomes of the First National .Congress of Religio,us of the Ufiited States will be a'faller.realization'on the.part ofeach community, whether large or ~all, of iis.actual, p~iticipation and impqrtance.in i~he Mystical -Body. of ~hrist; a deeper feeling of p~rspnal love for our Holy Father' and an appreciation Of his interest in our spiritual and temporal well- .,being; an~under.standila~g of the ,eagerness,. of the members 6f the Sacred Congregation of Religiou~ to serve our need~s and tO assist us to b~come holy, saintly' religious; and finally, a cloker bond among th( religious communities'of the United States, with e~ich ~roup cor~: scious of its imp6rtance to the good of the whole 'and, ready to assist in furthering the 'apostolic endeavors of every, other institute:" ¯ The other purposeF-~-the ekchange of ideas and the consideration of nece~sary adjustment~--also received their due attention" at both the scheduled sessiofis and the informal meetings of smaller groupL The on.e flaw in the plaorfing of the Congress, if there was 0ily fl~w,. was that there were so many.papers that the.re was not sufficient time for discussion°fr0m the floi3r. Nevertheless, a fine beginning was made, and w,e hope that what was begun at Notre Dame can be car- ¯ tied on much further in' the discussi6ns in this R~view and in smaller meetings that can be arranged from time ~o time. . Organization .The Sacred Congregation of." Rhligioussent. f~ur representatives to theCongress: .The Most Reverend Atcadio LarraonL C.MIF., Secretary of the Congregation: the Very Reverend Giuseppe\Gi.am- ~pietro, S.J., the assistant to Father Larraona i~ the organization of regional "meetings of religious; the .Very Reverend Elio Gambari, S.M.M'., .whose specihl duty is-to handlethe affairs of refigious :in the United States; and the ~i~y Re;gerend Edward 'L. Heston, C.S.C:, the Secretary G~ner~l for, the Congress in the United States. ¯ The Congress was divided into two sections, for religious n~dn and religious women respective.ly. The Very-P(everend John ~J. Cavanaugh, C.S.C., who was President of the University of Notre .Dame atthe time the C6ngress was.plhnned, wasHonora.ry~Chair- 226 ~September, 1952 , (~ONGRESS OF RELI,.GIOUS manfor both groups. Executiye Chairman for Religious Men was. the "Very Reverend FranCis J.Connell, C.SS.R.; and for Religious W~men, the_Reverend Mother Mary. Gerald Barry,. O.P., the Supe-rior, General 6f the.Domlnican Sisters of Adrian; Michigan. Co- - ordinato.r of the. Congress'was the Re~'e~end Alfred F: .Mendez. C.S.C. The work done by Fathers Connell and Mendez and Mother " Mary Geriild in preparing for th~ Congress "was little shdrt of miraculous. They had only al~out three months tb make their pre-parati6ns, yet every detail, both Of the preparations and Of the'actual carrying out of the"Congre.ss,: was S~l~erbfy:planned and executed. As one small sample.migh~ l~e instanced the plans for daily Masses: there, were seven hur~dred Masses.each day; yet there was not the 'slightest -c~nfusion or difficulty in getting, iri ~he Masses. ~ ¯ Other members of the Committee for the sectlon of Rehgmus ¯Men were: theVery Rev~:end Godf.rey Diekmann, O.S.B.; the Very Reverend Philip F. Mulhern, O.P.: the,.Very Reverend'Thomas .~. Plas'smann, O.F.M.: the Ve~y Reverend Adam C. Ellis, "S.J.: the Very Reverend Basil Frison, C.M.F.; Venerable Brother Alexis Vic-.- tor, F.S~C.; Venerable Brother Ephrern O'Dwyer, C.S.C.; Vener-able Brother William, ~.F.X. O~her members of the committee .for Religious Women were: the Re~,erend .Mother M. Catherine Sullivan, D.C.: the Reverend'. Mother-M. Rose Elizabeth, C.S.C." the Reverend Mother M. li~n, C.S.J.; the Reverend 'Mother M. Joan 0t: Arc Cronin, O.S.U. the Reverend. Mot'her Mari~Helene,. S.P.: and Sister M. Madeleva.;" Spiritual Ideals In one wa.y'or anothe'r many. of the discussions at the C~ngr~ss centered on the clarification of the spiritual ideals common to reli-gious. ins~itfltes and on the .means. of¯ attaining these ideals., Particu-larly stressed was.~he fact that religious.need a deep pers'orial devo~ tion to Christ. Basic to such a devotion is the knowledge of.Christ; iand the young r~llg~ous must be.helped ~o get th~s knowledge, partly through Well-planned reading, and~mostly through prayer--for it is ~i knowledge.of the heart, and it is given by the Holy Ghost to ~hose " who humbly and perse~'erifigly seek it. ¯The fervent-reception of. Holy Communion-is a great help to.the atta!ning of this interior -knowledge and devotion. Incidentally, in. the men:s discussion 6f this tiepin, it was poin~e~, out that here, as i~ Other aspec~so,of their religious training, youri~ religious are inspired.by the goqd example ¯ 227 THE EDITOR,S " Review/:or Religigus of thei~ elders-and are proportib.nate!y harmed by thelack of such example. Several discussions also emphasized the need of a sense of per, sor~al responsibility. For. instance, one danger oK the religious life, with its many exercises in common, is .what migl~t be called "~herd-spirituality": one goes to the exercise automatically and takes.part with a sort, of detached numbness, ,as though ¯partially anesthetized. The chief wa~ to counteract this is the constant striving on the part of the individual to make the exercls~ personal. Also, some religious who lead an active aposl~olate, especially in small houses, .are fre-quently unable to have common exercises. They can lose the rell-gious spirit completely Unless through their own personal efforts they try to form a plan for making their various spiritual exercises in private. " The same idea of personal responsibility, under the formality of per_sonal initiative, was prominent in the men's discussion of religious obedience. It was pointed out,that apostolic initiative is n6t stifled by obedience, though it must often be controlled for the common good, as well as for the good of the individual. The rel, igious who always waits to be told what to do. is by no. means the model of perfect obedience, and the superior who requires this of his subjects is by no,means the perf.ect superior. , In a paper t, bat all will read With interest and profit, the Very Reverend Giles Staab, O.F.M.C~'p., reduced the moral qualifications of candida.tes to the religious life to the)four virtues of generosity, docility, prudence,~and loyalty. The generous candidate will¯have the r~quisite piety, the fight intention,' the chastity, and the zeal. The docile candidate will be obedient and thus further the Work of the i.nstitute. The prudent candidate will have good jiadgment and emotional control. And ~he candidat~ imbued with a spirit Of loya[t~t.will, be ready to subordinate his own interests to thqse of the community and will, as a natural consequence, b~e a, gobd communi@ man: a religious withsocial 'balanch, cgurtesy, and considerateness." Conte~ptative Life The .Right Reverend Abbot M. James Fox, O.C.S.O., gave' an interesting and informative talk about the contemplative life in gen-eral and the Trappists' life inparticular. He said that there is.a great hunger for thec0ntemplative life in modern America, . and he illustrated this statement.by quotin~ excerpts from man'y letters'that h'e has received from applicants to the' Trappi~ts. The Trappists,., 228 " ' v Sep~ei'hber~ 1952.- " CONGRESS OF RELIGIOUS he said, have about ~700' novices in their varigus" houses ~throu.ghmit the world';" ,approximately half:of these novices ,are, in the' United State~.'In less than ten years the" Trappist monasteries in 'this country have increased from three' to ten.," °, "'- .~, Why the attraction to "contemplative orders?.+. At one of Sisters' sessions it was suggested that yout.h are attracted to the co.n= templative life because they,feel that in this life they can

Issue 9.4 of the Review for Religious, 1950. ; ~uesfions Answered, Books I~evi~wed~ -Report~+o~om~ RI::VIi=W FOR Ri::LI IOUS VOLUME IX JULY, 1"950 NUMBER CONTENTS MEMOIR OF ALFRED SCHNEIDER~-Gerald Kelly, S.J . 169 THE "LITTLE" VIRTUES--Stephen Brown, S.J . 176 ADJUSTMENT OF NEGRO CHILDREN TO A MIXED PAROCHIAL SCHOOL--A Sister of the Holy Names 179 OUR cONTRIBUTORS . 184 ATTEND TO READING--Augustine Klaas, S.J . 185 BOOK REVIEWS-- St. Teresa of Jesus; Storm of Glory; Purgatory; Psychiatry and Asceti-cism . 197 BOOK NOTICES . 201 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS . 203 FOR YOUR INFORMATION-- Passionist Ghampion; Company of Mary; Servants of Mary; Little Office; Varia . 205 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS-- 18. How to Fill the Water Cruet . ; . 207 19. The Perplexed Conscience . 207 20. Several Hosts to One Communicant . 208 REPORT TO ROME . 209 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, July, 1950. Vol. IX, No.,4. Published bi-monthly: January, March, May, July, September, a~d November at the College Press, 606 Harrison Street, Topeka, Kansas, by St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approbation. Entered as second class matter January 15, 1942, at the Post Office, Topeka, Kansas, under the act of March 3, 1879. Editorial Board: Adam C. Ellis, S.J., G. Augustine Ellard, S.J., Gerald Kelly, S.J. Copyright, 1950. by Adam C. Ellis. Permission is hereby granted for quotations of reasonable length, provided due credit be given this review and the author. Subscfiptlon price: 2 dollars a year. Printed in U. S. A. Before wr|t|ng to us, please consult notice on inside back cover. Memoir 6t:. All:red chneider Gerald Kelly, S.3. ~N OUR MARCH number (p. 112) we announced the sudden death of Father Alfred F. Sc, hneider, S.3. Shortly after this announcement a loyal friend of the Review wrote to us: "The notice about Father Alfred Schneider made'me make remembrance of him. Now I understand that note of gentleness and considerateness which I always found in his prompt and courteous replies." This note is typical of what scores of others might have written. During his years as editorial secretary Father Schneider carried on most of our editorial business with subscribers and authors; and the number of those who benefited by h'is prompt and kindly service is very large. These, we feel sure, would like to know more about him than we were able to put into a brief notice. Another reason for the present sketch is the value of Father Schneider to the Review itself.¯ We are not waxing poetic when we say that he brought us hope in our darkest hour. Our charter sub-scribers will remember that we had hardly launched this enterprise when war, with all its problems, was upon us. The war made it difficult to get materials and raised the price of such as were available. The war and the postwar period made such demands on college and seminary personnel that many priests and religious who would have helped us with articles had not the leisure. And this same shortage of personnel made it necessary for the editorial board to handle countless details for which they were not prepared. Despite the fact that we had the generous help of Jesuit scholastics and young priests, our early years were very dark. The difficulties just outlined grew in intensity through the early ¯ years of our publication until the middle of 1944. That was when Father Schneider brought relief. We do not wish to imply that, without him, we should have had to discontinue publication---only God knows that; but we can certainly say that his. help towards th~ continuance of this Review was immeasurable, if not absolutely essential. The following pages are not a "biography" of Father Schneider. For the most part they simply record the present writer's personal impressions gleaned through more than five years of intimate col-laboration with Father Schneider. These memories are supplemented, 169 GERALD KELLY Ret,qeto for Religious however, with data supplied by others and with a few facts obtained " from Father.Schneider's notes. Alfred F. Schneider was born in St. Paul, Minnesota, February 8, 1899. He was one of the oldest of a large family. He attended St. Agnes Grade School, took a two-year commercial course at St. Thomas College, and went to work. After several years of steno-graphic work in various business houses he became secretary to the President of the St. Paul-Minneapolis Street Car Company. During these years he managed to cover a regular high school course by attending night school. His business and stenographic experience was obviously an invaluable asset to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. He was an excellent typist, a good bookkeeper, and, of course, he knew shorthand. For myself, I found his shorthand both enviable and exasperating. Often I sat at my desk green-eyed as I watched him make notes with light-ning rapidity. Often, too, was I exasperated when I found on my desk a manuscript, the margin of which was covered with "hen scratches"--the common designation in our office for his shorthand notations. The exasperation, incidentally, did not end with his death. Some books he had been reviewing contained only a few scraps of paper covered with the "hen scratches"; and his retreat notes and personal notes, which I was privileged to examine, were scarcely more revealing. I am told that when he first considered the priesthood his thoughts were directed toward the diocesan clergy; later--for some reason contained perhaps in his shorthand legacy--they centered on the Jesuits. At the age of twenty-four he went to Campion College, Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin, to review his Latin and other studies. He entered the novitate at Florissant, Missouri, on August 8, 1924. In a Jesuit novitiate (and very likely in other novitiates) a man of twenty-five is considered a sort of patriarch. Regulations to th~ contrary notwithstanding, such men are often christened "Pop." Father Schneider was no exception to this contrary-to-regulations custom; he became Pop Schneider. Moreover, because of his com-paratively venerable age he was transferred to the Juniorate after having completed only one year of novitiate. Among us, these older novices who follow the Juniorate regime during their second year of noviceship are sometimes referred to as "skullcap Juniors." The origin of this expression seems to be that "once upon a time" ~he novices following the Juniorate order wore skullcaps to distinguish 170 July, 1950 MEMOIR OF ALFRED SCHNEIDER them from the ordinary novices, who had no special head covering, and from the full-fledged Juniors, who had taken their vows and were supposed to wear the biretta.' As amatter of fact, though there were several "skullcap Juniors" while I was at Florissant, I never saw a skullcap except on some venerable lay Brother. On the occasion of his first vows, August 15, 1926, the Juniors gave their "skullcap" confrere a grand reception; and his age did not prevent him from responding with as much warmth as would the youngest novice. In a letter to his parents, afte'r having expressed great joy o'~er his religious profession, he added: "I was the only ,lunio~? among the vow men and my fellow- Juniors gave me a specially warm reception. A huge bouquet of snowballs stood on my desk, and a smaller bouquet of other flowers; and then there were letters, and notes of congratulation, with little personal notes, and holy cards, so that when I sat down to read them I felt like a big business man opening his morning's mail. I believe that every Junior in the house had something for me. May God bless them all a thousand times for their kindness.''* His warmth was not confined to his fellow-Jesuits. In this same letter he very beautifully expressed his affection for and gratitude to his parents: "It would, of course, be impossible for me to tell you all that I felt or thought or did on, such a never-to-be-forgotten day as yester-day; but I don't want you to think for a moment that now I am wholly cut off from you. It is true I now belong to the Lord, but my love for the best father and mother in the world is not one whir diminished. The Lord would be ill-pleased with me were I ever to forget the big debt of gratitude that I owe you. It. is only too true that one does not appreciate father and mother.' until one is separated from them; and if I have not always shown you the love, respect, and gratitude that I owe you, I will try now to make up for it by my prayers and true love for you. So, do not think that in giving a son and daughter to Christ [one of his sisters is in the convent] that you are losing. No, Mother and Dad, you are gaining immeasur-ably; and I feel certa,¯ l,n that as the years roll o{n you wdl understand that more and more. 1During my tine at Florissant a "skullcap .lunior" named Peter A. Brooks took his vows. The ,lunlors decorated his desk not only with flowers but with a large sign bearing the words, "Peter Noster." Not so many y~ars later he became "Pater Noster" when he was made Provincial oi~ the Missouri P}ovince. As provincial, he obtained permission for us to start this Reoiet~ and asstste~ us with constant encour-agement during our early years. 171 GERALD KELLY Reoieto tot Religiotts The years did roll on. From 1927 to 1930, Father Schneide~ made his philosophical studies at Mount St. MichaeI's, near Spokane, Washington; from 1930 to 1932, he taught at Campion; and from 1932 to 1936, he made the course of theology at Woodstock Col-lege, Woodstock, Maryland. He was ordained at Woodstock in June, 1935. For the spiritual formation of a Jesuit tbd most important single period is the "Year of Third Probation," commonly called the ter-tianship. During this year, and especially during the long retreat which is made near the beginning of the year, one crystallizes the ideal that has been gradually forming during the preceding years of training. Father Schneider made his tertianship at Cleveland, Ohio, from the beginning, of September, 1936, to the end of June, 1937. For the most part, the spiritual notes made during his long retreat are "hen scratches"--absolutely unrevealing, as far as I am concerned; fortunately, however, the principal items of his ]Election are in long-hand. Among his personal needs he lists the "grace to be an exem-plary priest and Jesuit." That he received this grace and that he co-operated with it admirably would be the unhesitating testimony . of all who lived with him here at St. Mary's. Of very special interest is the fact that be considered human respect and indolence to be the principal obstacles in his pursuit of perfection. This item aptly illustrates the old saying that one never knows the true spiritual stature of a man unless he knows his "old Adam." During all the time I knew him I revered him as a man of principle and industry; and I feel sure that all the others in our office bad similar sentiments. We would not have suspected that he could ever seriously accuse himself of either human respect or indolence. If these vices represented his "old Adam," then in him the "new Adam" seems to have attained a complete victory. Afte'r tertianship Father Schneider was assigned to St. Mary's for two years of private study of canon law. The original plan had been to send him to Rome for a doctorate, but this had to be changed because of the condition of his health. In 1939 he began a series of rapid changes which included two years of teaching at St. Louis University, one year as assistant at the parish of St. Ferdinand's, Florissant, two more years at Campion, then back to St. Mary's in the fall of 1944 as editorial secretary of the Retffew. 'It was his health, not his temperament, that accounted for these many changes. An exceptionally talented man, as well as docile and co-operative, he 172 dulg, 1950 MEMOIR OF ALFRED SCHNEIDER would have been an asset to any college; but he was not strong enough to follow the regular schedule of a high school or college teacher. His assignment to the Reoiew was a b!essing to all concerned. For himself, the flexibility of his schedule allowed him to portion out his work according to his strength. For us, his varied talents made him the ideal secretary. Not only was he efficient at book-keeping, typing, and business details, as I have already mentioned; but his knowledge of theology and canon law, plus a generous endowment of good taste, made him an excellent judge of manu-scripts. Add to these the fact that he was a careful editor and proof-reader, and it is easily seen that his service to us was invaluable. His judgment that a manuscript should be rejected was always sympathetic and was never made without a second reading. But once made, his opinion was very definite; and he was no respecter of persons, not even of editors. (This may be one reason why I was amazed to discover that he had ever considered human respect to be one of his failings!) In my own files are several manuscripts which, in kedping with his suggestions, "await revision before publication." Attached to one of these manuscripts is a neatly typed note bearing this verdict: "The examples given in this article are of relatively rare occurrence in religious life. If you could add some that have more or less daily application, I should think it would enliven the article, especially the first part.---A.F.S., S.J." This is typical of his prac-tical criticisms; he always thought in terms of the readers. Efficiency in handling office details made it possible for him to go out fairly frequently to give retreats, Forty Hours' devotions, and days of recollection. He loved this work and seems to have done it remarkably well. His notes made for retreats, conferences, and ser-mons are filled, of course, with the inevitable "hen scratches"; but there are sufficient longhand and typed notations to indicate that everything was well planned. Moreover, reports were always favor-able. As one Sister superior put it, "He gave us an excellent retreat, one that we shall remember the rest of our lives." To this statement she added, "He reminded me of P~re Ginhac." This last remark referred not only to his solid spirituality, but also to his seriousness. Certainly his appearance was serious. He was tall (well over six feet), gaunt, more than semibald, dark-complexioned-- a perfect replica of the traditional, picture of the ascetic. And he was of serious disposition, too. A man who begins .173 GERALD KELLY Review For Religious each day with the realization that it may be his last is not prone to levity. But as he had the gravity of the saint, he also had the saint's sense of humor. By this Imean a keen and gentlemanly sense of humor. It did not respond to the crude or the unchaiitable, but it reacted instantaneously to the wholesomely amusing. He often com-plained to me that the Review tended to become too heavy, that it needed a lighter touch. He particularly liked the articles of our Fran-ciscan contributors, Father Claude Kean and Father Richard Leo Heppler, because of their cheerytone. In his last act of censorship for the Review he chuckled repeatedly while reading "Eyes Right?" by Father Richard Leo. The next day, scarcely ten minutes before we found him dead on the floor of the office, be was joking with Father Ellis. I have several times referred to the suddenness of his death. In one sense it was very sudden. Father Ellis and I left the office, leaving Father Schneider working at his desk. A few minutes later Father Ellis heard a crash, rushed back to the office, and found Father Schneider stretched out on the floor. Apparently he had left his desk to put something in a filing cabinet and as he turned back toward the desk he was stricken either by a heart attack or by a cerebral hem-orrhage. There was no sign of warning or of struggle; death must have come like the snap of a light bulb. Yet, in another sense, it was not sudden for him. Before he entered the Society a thyroid condi-tion had damaged his heart, and from the early days of his religious life he had known'that he had only a threadlike hold on life. At any moment,the thread might snap. Perhaps it was his coflsciousness of impending death that made him so orderly. His person, his room, his desk, his notes and accounts were always neatly arranged. His record of Mass intentions was kept with perfect clarity right up to the day of his death. During 1948-49 he had much extra work to do, especially in functioning as minister of this large house; and this forced him to get behind in balancing his office books. In the early weeks of 1950, despite very serious headaches, he worked assiduously to bring these accounts up to date. This was accomplished just a week or two before he died. As a boy, Father Schneider had loved sports; in the Society, however, his weakened heart prevented him from taking any active part in athletics. He showed his devotion both to baseball and to his brethren by assuming .the unattractive avocation of umpire. Later, 174 dulg, 1950 MEMOIR OF ALFRED SCHNEIDER even the umpiring had to-cease; but his interest continued. To the day of his death he could give with animation and precision the batting averages, pitching records, and so forth, of various teams and ~ndividuals over a long period of years. Another recreational taste cultivated in his youth was for good music. This, too, remained with him through the years; his occasional opportunities of listening to a broadcast of an opera or a ~symphony were a source of great joy to him. Looking back on the life of a friend, one can usually find many aspects under which to summarize the salient factors. One such gen-eral aspect of Father Schneider's life would be his maturity. He had a definite ideal of priestly and religious holiness and he strove methodically to attain it. He had a tendency to scrupulosity, but, at least in his later years, he was the master, not the slave, of this tendency. For the most part, he solved his own problems; when be needed advice be asked for it and followed it calmly. A man of strong likes and dislikes, as well as of vehement temper, he controlled these emotions in the interests of charity and of his own mental peace. He once told me that he had to be careful to read nothing about Communism in the late evening because such accounts usually made him angry and deprived him of needed ~leep. He adjusted admirably to the inconveniences and frustrations consequent to his illness. He was a good companion at recreation, especially a good listener; he was not the type to leave the little details that make for pleasant and efficient community living to "the other fellow." Another aspect under which I might summarize my impression of Father Schneider's life is suggested by Father Louis Hertling, S.3., in his manual of ascetical theology (Tbeologia Ascetica). In the last part of this book Father Hertling discusses the norms for heroic virtue described by Prosper Lambertini (later Benedict XIV) in his treatise on The Beatit~cation and Canonization of the Servants of God. According to Father Hertling, the pen picture of the saintly religious runs as follows: "He loves his own institute. He observes the rules, even the slightest. He keeps to his dell. He observes both juridical and real poverty. He is &hgent in carrying out his duties ~n rehglon. He ~s modest ~n exterior deportment. H~s separation from the world and worldly things is real. He is reverent towards diocesan priests and members of other religious institutes. He makes the spiritual exer-cises prescribed by rule. He is indefatigable in labor, but modest, and 175 STEPHEN BROWN Revieu~ for Religious without self-seeking.''2 To this list, I might add a few points given by Father Hertling in his sketch of the holy diocesan priest: reverence and earnestness in the things that pertain to divine worship; cultivation of theological knowledge; diligence in preaching and hearing confessions. I cannot say whether Father Schneider practised all these virtues of the priest and religious to a heroic degree; but I feel sure that in his final exam-ination on them be must have bad a very high grade. The "Lit:t:le" Vir!:ues Stephen Brown, S.J. IN SERMONS and various spiritual instructions we are ever hearing repeated those great words, Charity, Mortification, Hu-mility, Faith, Self-sacrifice, Perseverance, and the like. They have become so familiar that we are apt not to PaY attention to them, or, if we do, they awe us with the thought of the lofty vir-tues they stand for. But there are other virtues which the preachers do not so commonly preach about and which yet are worthy of thought. St. Francis de Sales used to call them the "little" virtues. Here is a characteristic passage from one of his letters: "Let us prac-tise certain little virtues proper to our littleness, virtues that are exer-cised rather by going down than going up, and therefore not so hard on our legs--patience, forbearance, service, affability, tolerance of our own imperfection, and.other similar little virtues.". If the great virtues seem too much for us, glorious ideals, no doubt, but so far away and so high above us, we may console our-selves with the thought that we can reach the same end by practising the "little" virtues. We are not called on every day to plank down ten-dollar bills or sign checks for I know not how many dollars. No, we pay our modest dimes or quarters, not disdaining even a copper or two, if more be needed. An hour may come, no doubt, in our lives when God will ask us for our little all. And then, no doubt, He will provide us with grace to make the sacrifice. But meantime we keep on paying our little daily installments. There are people who--if not in theory, certainly in practice-- 2The translation is not literal. 176 Ju!g, 1950 THE "LITTLE" VIRTUES make little of the little virtues. They are ready to be charitable, but in the meantime forget to be merely polite. There are others who have great respect, no doubt, for purity and chastity, but are not overparticular about ordinary modesty. And those are not unknown who practise mortification but on occasion are quite likely to insist on getting the best of what is going. There are even people who extol religion but deprecate piety. Yet it seems to me that a certain saying of Our Lord to the effect that "he that is faithful in that which is least is faithful also in that which is greater" (Luke 16:10) has an application here. And again: "W~I1 done, thou good servant, because thou hast been faith-ful in a little, thou shalt have power over ten cities" (Luke 19:17). We might take the great virtues one by one and descant on the little virtues that go to make them up. Humility is a formidable virtue. But we might begin with it by being modest about our own achievements or refrain from making the conversation turn about our merits. That doesn't seem too hard. Abnegation is a hard word, and no doubt a hard thing, but we might start by occasionally letting other people have their way. It is a little virtue without a name, this art of giving in--at all events, I cannot put a name to it. And so we might go on. But lest our thoughts become too scattered let us fix them for a moment on those "little" virtues that are the small change of charity. I have menti6ned politeness. It may be merely the outcome of good breeding--and wherever it comes from how welcome it is! But it may also be a real virtue. To say the least, as one writer puts it, in order to be holy it is not necessary to be boorish. A man may be actually a gentleman as well as a saint. To another little virtue, cordiality, St. Francis de Sales devotes one of his wonderful confer-ences. After explaining what he means by it, he says it ought to be accompanied by two other virtues, one of which may be called affability and the other cheerfulness. "Affability," he goes on, '~is a virtue which spreads a certain agreeableness over all the business and serious communications we have with one another; while cheerful-ness is that which renders us gracious and agreeable in our recrea-tions and less serious intercourse with one another." How much the one and the other might, and no doubt do, help to oil the wheels of life. St. Ignatius LoYola set value on these little virtues, for he objected to wrinkles on the nose. There is another modest little virtue well worthy of considera-tion, and that is considerateness. It is practised by the person who 177 not only remembers your existence but ac(ually avoid~ hurting your feelings or rubbing you the wrong way, as the saying goes. He refrain~ from needless noise (hearken all ye who live overhead!). He remembers the nerves of nervous people; he does not ask embarrassing questions, and abstains from comment where comment might be unkind or inopportune. It is the most unobtrusive of little virtues, and we are often unaware of it in other people. But we are only too well aware of the lack of it when it is absent. Politeness, urbanity, courtesy may be taken as practically synonymous. And then there is obligingness. Who does not like and value the obliging man? But, like all virtues, it must steer a clear course between extremes-~between grumpiness and disobligingnes, on the one hand, and subservience, not to say flunkeyism, on the other. And what of companionableness or sociability? What of helpfulness? What of tactfulness? They are all just aspects of charity-~charity as it works out in daily life. Nevertheless, besides the people who despise the little virtues through a delusion that they are practising the great ones, there are also people sincerely aiming at higher things who are apt to neglect these virtues as merely natural. Well, everything that is natural is not wrong, nor even negligible. God is the ~iuthor of nature as well as of grace. Man pervbrts it or wrests it to purposes of his own. Moreover, these virtues need not be merely natural. Motive or inten-tion can raise them to the supernatural plane. And the minor virtues that center round charity have a peculiar value of their own. They are social virtues: they concern not ourselves alone but those about us. They help to make life happier for both ourselves and them. And I think we may even say that they help to make us Christlike. Is there one of them that the Master did not practise, one of them that He would have thought beneath Him? And, after all, the littleness of these virtues lies not so much in themselves or their results as in the things and circumstances that occasion the practice of them--trifling words, looks, gestures, mere silences. They are virtues of meal time and recreation time, of the breakfast table, the fireside, and the bus. But they have echoes in heaven. [EDITORS' NOTE: This article is the introduction to what we hope will be a series of articles on "The Little Virtues" by Father Brown. For' another of his articles on a similar topic see "Concerning Patience," in REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, "VII, 141.] 178 Adiust:ment: ot: Negro Children t:o a Mixed Parochial School A Sister of the Holy Names ST. JOACHIM'S was not always an interracial school. From its remote beginnings it had served a French national parish. When we first began to enroll the colored the very novelty of each isolated case brought the thrill of pioneering. Five years ago we eased into our present position by accepting Catholic colored children on a larger scale. Naturally others not of the faith sought admission. Some few, at the discretion of the principal, were admitted. Each year since then our colored enrollment has increased until this year seventy-five per cent of our student body is colored. Because we started with Catholic children we did not experience the same difficulties at first that we met later. There was some initial resentment shown by our white pupils but this soon changed to admiration. Now there is a calm and unquestioning acceptance of their biracial school. The very few families who transferred their children to other schools because of the change were no great loss. We Sisters of the Holy Names have several schools for colored children in Florida, as well as five missions in South Africa. But this was our first attempt at interracial education on a large scale. .Hor-rified gasps met our early efforts; but, perhaps to the disappointment of the scandalized, no major issue has yet arisen involving color. Nor, with the grace of God, will any arise. With no established precedent known to us, we have had to feel our way. The results have been happy. Let me begin with some don'ts. Never favor a colored child in the classroom. He wants to be treated like the others, not better. I'll always remember the first colored boy I taught. Everything he said or did seemed amusing, and I had difficulty suppressing my smiles. He soon took advantage of my good nature, occupying the limelight for the remainder of the year. The next year I treated him like the others and we both spent a more profitable year. Similarly, don't even seem to mistreat him. He is likely to assume that you're doing it because of his color. If he deserves punishment and under-stands why you are inflicting it, he will submit without difficulty. But you have lost a friend if he suspectsyou of partiality on the basis 179 SISTER OF THE HOLY NAMES Revtew for Religious of color. Be fair, then, in meting out punishment. If two or more are involved, punish all or excuse all. This may seem obvious. We have a classic incident here which we refer to as the Davis Incident. Mr. Davis, a Negro, is a World War I veteran, a man who married late in life and has a philosophy of life all his own. He is moreover very strict with his children and wants to co-operate with the school in every way. Last year a new white family, the 2osephs., moved into the neighborhood. The children came to our school. Instead of going home one day at dismissal time,, Davis Junior and Joseph Junior chased each other up and down the church steps. Both boys were taken to the school "court" where the Patrol Boys arraign those who disobey school ordinances. The Sister in charge, seeing 2oseph Junior in heart-melting tears, excused him. It was his first offense, and she knew he wouldn't do it again. Davis Junior, on the other hand, was awaiting his punishment like a man. He had been to our school for a full year: therefore he should have known better. Hence, a penance for Davis. That night Mr. Davis held his own court in the convent parlor with the Sisters as accused. He insisted that it was only just either to punish both boys or to excuse both. "But the other boy is new and not familiar with the school customs," we hedged. "All the more reason for punishing both to prevent further breaches," came the relentless reply. After much discussion, Mr. Davis very touchingly ended with, "If you don't punish the white boy (God bless you, Sisters), please don't punish mine." Don't be antagonistic. If you don't like the colored and can't treat them fairly, ask to be changed. Naturally very sensitive, they resent the slightest tendency a teacher may have to dislike them. Per-sonally, I have to think twice beford I list pupils as colored or white. I simply forget the color. They are all little ones to be encouraged, checked or admonished, urged, and taught; but never children of one race or another. Other Sisters tell me they have the same experience. Now for the positive side. Be strict but kind. Strictness will never be resented if they understand that it is for their own good. In most cases their parents are strict (we think sometimes too strict), but the fact remains that their children show a much higher respect for the parents than do the white children we have at present. Of course we must keep in mind that the pupils we teach come, for the most part, from the poorer homes. ¯ There are four large well-equipped public schools within walking distance. In spite of this fact, the parents make great sacrifices to keep their children with u~. dut~,1950 INTERRACIAL SCHOOL ADJUSTMENT As' one earnest mother put it: 'TII work my fingers to the bone before I'I1 be so foolish as to take my boy out of St. Joachim's." Another non-Catholic mother who works nights to pay the fees answered her employer, when be endeavored to persuade her to send her children to'the public school: "As far as I can judge, the Catholic school is giving the better education. The best is none too good for them. If I have to stop eating, they will go to the Catholic school." School standards must be set high and maintained. Nothing mediocre will suffice. Colored parents want for .their children what they have never had: a solid religious education. Though theyhave little.respect for easily-won laurels, they s6metimes expect miracles once their children are in our hands. In this connection a strange (or perhaps not so strange) fact merits attention here. Many chil-dren have come to us from special classes for ungraded pupils in the public schools. (I have five such in my own class.) All, without exception, show a marked improvement. ,We have found that they can learn, in some cases as well as or better than the average pupil. One was an inveterate truant. He has not missed a day of school since he came to us. Is it the personal touch? I don't know. Give plenty of homework. Most parents want to help their children and incidentally learn something themselves. True, a few of them are college graduates. Several more have gone through high school. But the majority have had nothing more than an inter-mittent schooling in the "South." Most home backgrounds are therefore apparently not conducive to scholarship. Yet our colored pupils lead their white classmates in scholastic achievement in every grade. We have found it preferable to enroll new colored students in the lower grades only. They are more amenable, at the age of five or six, to discipline and training than they are when they enter a Cath-olic school for the first time in their early teens. Invariably, non- Catholic pupils accepted for the upper grades are problems. They come with their attitudes fixed and their characters strongly devel-oped along paths that conflict with our teaching aims. Consequently, only Catholic children are accepted into the school for the higher grades; the lower grades are open to all who satisfy the entrance requirements. After two or three year~ with us, these children are more docile to our teaching, their behavior is decidedly improved, and their wholesome outlook on life is reflected in the family" circle. Many parents ask to take religious instructions or are importuned by their children to do so within a year or two. 181 SISTER OF THE HOLY NAMES Reoiew t~or Religious Among the fine qualities which we have had abundant oppor-tunity to admire in our colored people, I'd stress their co-operation, their cleanliness (in spite of their tremendous housing difficulties), their high ideals, and last, but certainly not least, their attraction to and love of things spiritual. Never have we received from our white pupils the co-operation and encouragement which the colored have given. Last fall we needed window shades in our classrooms. Those shades which we could pull down either stayed down or came down altogether. Some windows had none to pull down. The mothers of our colored pupils were invited to discuss the matter. They came, nearly every one, conducted the meeting in.parliamentary style~ spon-sored a very successful party, and really amazed us. We now have new window shades on every window in every classroom. Colored parents follow the behavior and the studies of their chil-dren very closely. They frequently telephone or stop a minute after school hours to find out how Isaiah or Donna is progressing. The bimonthly report is not just another card to sign but a meaningful record which both parents and pupils take seriously. Suppose Wood-row is not behaving properly: a note to his mother sets him right. Should Dorsilla become negligent in her studies, a phone call brings results. Thirty of my forty-five pupils are colored. I find my most care-ful workers among them. Boys especially surprise me by their atten-tion to details, their striving for perfection. They would rather not hand in any paper than one that is poorly written or has a mistake on it. On the whole, I have found them clean and neat physically as well as morally. Of course there are some who are untidy, but they are the exception. The colored have high ideals. Their standards are set for the best in everything; such at least is my experience. That is one reason why our Catholic faith appeals so strongly to them. Some of the parents have made mistakes in their own lives; they are eager to fielp their children avoid the pitfalls into .which they themselves have fallen. They see and appreciate the difference between the behavior of the public-school children and our pupils (speaking again of our own neighborhood). Therefore they make untold sacrifices to insure the best training, the best instruction, the best education for their dar-lings. They are not living aimlessly. They have ambitious futures outlined. The children themselves are imbued with their parents' high ideals. You would perhaps be surprised to hear these poor people express 182 19.50 INTERRACIAL SCHOOL ADdUSTMENT their religious opinions. They are hungry for God. They are seeking not a "revival" religion but one that is solid, secure, and authoritative. One family, whose children were among our first Catholic colored pupils, boasts two altar boys. These boys refused so absolutely to go to a public school that thei~ mother was obliged to send them to St. Benedict the Moor's boarding school in Mil-waukee. There they were baptized and made their first Holy Com-munion. The following year they came to us. The older bo3~, a senior altar boy now, is fidelity personified. He serves the nine o'clock Mass every Sunday, rain, snow, or sunshine. He is an honor student at the Catholic high school he attends. Both boys are fre-quent communicants. And all this, despite the fact that neither mother nor stepfather is Catholic. An aunt who teaches in a special school in New York, also a non-Catholic, made several trips West to assure herself of her nephews' educational progress. Each time she has expressed her admiration and appreciation of Catholic education. Could you but come and see for yourself how nonexistent are the bogeys of interracial education, my explanations would be needless. In class, as well as in church, no distinction is made in seating. Side byside they learn their lessons, say their prayers, play their games. Side by side, too, they bear Mass, receive Holy Communion, and serve at the altar. In instructing the many parents who seek bap-tism, the priests in charge of our parish believe in the "slow but sure" adage. They try the perseverance and constancy of their catechumens before baptism. How fervent these colored converts are. Yes, a very few grow careless with the years: but of course as much can be said of our lifelong Catholics. Many of our newly-converted colored families move to better neighborhoods. Yet, some of the children continue to come to our school, although it means coming halfway across the city by bus or streetcar. Others enroll in the nearest Catholic school; the same school might have refused them entrance a year before. It is our consolation to know that they still receive a Catholic education in their changed circumstances. We plant, others water; but God gives the increase. Our first fully-interracial' graduation took place last year. All these graduates are at present in Catholic high schools. They .are continuing their Catholic education side by side with white students, partaking in all school activities on an equal basis. Now to give some general impressions. Some tendencies must be checked. But they are the tendencies which historians tell us are 183 A SISTER OF THE HOLY NAMES manifested by any minority group. Those who sigh over the diff-culties of our present-day teaching efforts forget the very real diffi-culties they encountered a few years ago with o, tber minorities. Besides, every authority recognizes that the already difficult task of teaching has been made doubly hard by the weakening of family dis-cipline, The undesirable traits which I mention are not monopolized by our colored brethren. Fighting, for instance. Resentment. In-feriority complex. These have to be checked rigorously and sen-sibly. We rarely experience difficulties in this regard between the races. Usually it is the colored who quarrel among themselves (or the white as the case may be). Name-calling is unheard of between white and colored. By taking these youngsters in the lower grades, we are succeeding, with the invaluable aid of parents and priests, in teaching them to live peaceably with one another; to regard all men (even if all men do not so regard them) as friends and brothers: to face their difficulties with courage, confident that with God's help they can succeed here and hereafter. We have iiadustrious pupils and lazy ones, bright ones and dull, quick and slow, polite and thoughtless. But these categories are no respecters of color. Racial tensions develop not in school but in the homes where an older generation, grown fearful, sows the seeds of strife and disunion. With us, the teachings of the Church are fearlessly taught. Non- Catholics are expected to take part in. all religion classes. What a beautiful object lesson a colored altar boy can be as, paten in hand, he serves the priest at the Communion rail. It is with no mere mouthing of fine phrases that we teach the lesson that a compassion-ate Christ taught: His love for all men; that He died for all: that black, brown, yellow, and white, we must love one another as He has loved us. How much better our pupils understand this when they look around and see boys and girls of every shade of brown treated the same as those born white. The. best way to get information on interracial education is to see such a school in action. OUR CONTRIBUTORS GERALD KELLY and AUGUSTINE KL,~AS are members of the faculty at St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas. STEPHEN 2. BROWN is a professor at the National University of Ireland, Dublin. 184 Aid:end !:o Reading Augustine Klaas, S.J. 44ATTEND to reading," St. Paul long ago advised Timothy t~ (I Tim. 4:13). By this admonition bishops--and pre-sumably priests, too, since they should be imitating their bishops--are counseled to peruse the Holy Scriptures for spiritual reading. Religious are given to understand the importance of spiritual reading by some of the Fathers of the Church, for example, by St. Jerome, who in his own peculiar way urges Eustochium, a Roman virgin seeking perfection in the nearby convent at Bethlehem, to "let ~leep steal over you holding a book, and let the sacred page receive your nodding head." So necessary for his monks did St. Benedict consider daily reading of the Holy Scriptures and of other spiritual works that he used to send two of the brethren around to check on them strictly during this exercise, for he considered such reading the living spring whence flowed the streams of prayer. This can be said to be the general tradition of religious communities from the earliest times down to the present. While it it true that the cur-rent canon law regarding religious does not mention it explicitly, spiritual reading is certainly included under the heading ~f the "other practices of piety," which superiors must see that their subjects per-form daily (canon 565). As a matter of fact, the constitutions of almost all religious orders and congregations approyed by the Holy See prescribe specifical!y at least a quarter hour of daily spiritual reading or its equivalent, whether in private or in common. Today the laity are becoming increasingly aware of the need of spiritual reading fo~ advancement in prayer and virtuous living, and they are'making use of it more and more. These readers of spiritual books are usually yearly retreatants, active sodalists, and the militants of Catholic Action, but there are many others also. Even non- Catholics are helping in a surprising way to make certain Catholic spiritual books nation-wide best-sellers. I Spiritual reading is not just any sort of reading. It is not casual reading as of a newspaper, novel, or poem. Neither is it "heavy" reading, as of scientific, historical, or philosophical works. It is not 185 AUGUSTINE KLAAS Review [or Reli~lious reading for esthetic pleasure, literary appreciation, historical infor-marion, scientific acumen, or doctrinal erudition: at least, such is not the primary purpose of this kind of reading. What, then, is it? It is the reading of Holy Scripture, spiritual books, lives of Christ, of the Blessed Virgin, and of the saints, not so much for knowledge or for some other similar purpose as for moral improvement, for progress in the spiritual life. Spiritual reading is directed to the will rather than to the intellect; it aims more at the heart than at the head. It seeks principally to stir up the affections, move the will, and produce virtuous action. Father Alvarez de Paz gives the classi-cal definition: "Spiritual reading is perusing the pages of Holy.Scrip-ture or the books of the holy Doctors, not so much"that we may know, but rather that we may advance in spirit, learn the will of God; and do it." Elsewhere be calls it spiritu~al reading when we seek in spiritual books "not only the knowledge but much more the relish ~and love of spiritual things." In some ways the reading of a spiritual book has distinct advan-tages over listening to a sermon or exhortation, having a conference with a religious superior or spiritual guide, or discussing spiritual matters in private conversation with a friend. Verba votar~t . Spoken words easily come and go. The printed word is far more permanent and tends to produce a more lasting effect, since what is printed can be reread, pondered, prayed over, and thoroughly assimi-lated. Without strain or too much distraction the last drop of goodness can be leisurely distilled from it. Books, too, can be fearless informants of faults and defects, while preachers, superiors, and equal~ will sometimes bestitate to speak out, and indeed at times they may not be able to do so. Also, the preacher or counselor may be lacking in the special knowledge required for one's particular case; he may be mediocre, or even downright incompetent, whereas one can always choose one's spiritual reading, adapted to personal, needs, from the Holy Scriptures or the latest encyclical of the Pope, from the spiritual masters, .such as Augustine, Chrysostom, and Basil; across the crowded centuries to Marmion, Meschler, and Leen. M~reover, a spiritual book is a precious thing in itself. The Psalmist says (11:7): "The utterances of the Lord are holy utter-ances, silver tested by fire." Spiritual reading often contains latent power similar to that so impressively noted by the two disciples on the road to Emmaus: "Was not our heart burning within us whilst he spoke to us on the way, whilst he laid open to us the Scriptures?" (Luke 24:32.) And Christ tells us: "The words that I have spoken 186 dul~,1950 ATTEND TO READING to you are spirit and life" (John 6:64). And St. Paul: "For what-soever things were written aforetime were written for our instruc-tion, that through patience and through the comfort of the Scriptures we may have hope" (Rom. 15:4). According to the Holy Books themselves, the Scriptures are truth, fire, a lamp, a hammer, the sword of the spirit, an infinite treasure for men; they convert souls, give wisdom to little ores, enlighten the mind, and .rejoice the heart. What Holy Scripture here says of itself applies also in great part to ill spiritual books worthy of the name. II Undoubtedly spiritual reading is a powerful force for salvation and perfection. How many, like St. Justin, have ascribed to it their conversion to the true religion? St. Eugenia was converted by reading the Epistles of St. Paul; St. Domna by reading the Acts of the Apostles. St. Augustine attributed his moral conversion to spiritual reading. Already convinced intellectually of the true faith, he was still struggling with his unruly passions and perverse will, trying to break with his sinful past, when one day he heard the voice of a child sing-songing in a nearby house: "Tolle, lege," "Tolle, lege," "Take up and read." He recalled that the great St. Antony had been converted to a life of perfection by the chance hearing of the Gospel text: "Go, sell what thou hast, and give to the poor; and thou shalt have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me." So Augustine eagerly took up the New Testament, opened it at random, and read from St. Paul's.epistle to the Romans (13:13-14): "Not in revelry and drunkenness, not in debauchery and wantonness, not in strife and jealousy: But put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and as for the flesh, take no thought for its lusts." These words sent streams of light into his mind, warmth to his affections, and strength into his will. Then and there he broke with his sinful past forever. Cen-turies later Ignatius Loyola likewise found in spiritual reading a powerful stimulus to a better life. While recuperating from battle wounds at his ancestral castle he asked for some light reading, some romantic tales, to speed the tedious hours. None could be found ar the moment, so he had to content himself with reading the life of Christ and some saints' biographies. This re.ading, begun with reluc-tance, together with God's grace, initiated a revolutionary change in his whole !ife and started him on the road to sanctity. Augustine and Ignatius are not isolated instances. Countless men and women, of all states of life, have had the course of their moral and spiritual 187 AUGUSTINE KLAAS Review for Religious life changed for the better by reading the Scriptures and other spir-itual books. ¯ Hence it is not surprising that ascetical masters have been lavish in pointing out in detail the various effects produced by earnest spir-itual reading. Here are some of. the. things they say. It shows us our faults as in a mirror, warns of tempt.ations and helps to overcome them, gradually purifies the,,soul from: sin,, and, makes,,the.,,sense of sin ever more and more delicate. It is also a source of nourishment for the soul, since it feeds the soul with salutary truths, which hre its solid and substantial food, and thus plants wisdom. It disposes us for meditation, then enkindles and feeds the fire of prayer and con-templation; indeed, it is truly the "oil for the lamp of prayer." Or, to change the figure with St. Basil: prayers are the sinews of the soul, but the sinews of prayer are spiritual reading. Also, if prayer has gone. badly in the morning, reading can make up for it to a great exterit later in the day. It deepens faith, hope, charity, and all the virtues, stimulates to fervor and devotion, arouses the affections, and strengthens the will. St. Ambrose remarks that just as monks in winter make for the fire, so must we throw off the chill of the world by reading which kindles our love for God. Moreover, r~ading urges to emulation. Did not the youthful Teresa of Avila, on reading the vivid accounts of the early martyrs, immediati.'ly run off to martyr-dom, taking h~r little brother along? Fortunately they did not get very far on their way to Africa but were promptly fetched back home! Little by little spiritual r~ading produces deep interior peace, delight in God, contempt for the world and worldly things; it gives us to taste and experience how sweet is the Lord. It also stirs up apostolic zeal and can be very useful for the apostolate, since it indirectly supplies material for sermons, religion classes, spiritual guidance, and conversation. On the negative side, it prevents wasting precious time on books, magazines, and newspapers of little or no value to religious. In a word, it helps greatly toward making religious spiritually mature. No wonder, then, that so many saintly persons of the past were devoted to spiritual reading. Did not Our Lord Himself read from the Holy Scriptures in the synagogue? St. Augustine says that Our Lady was reading the prophecies of Isaias concerning the future Mes-sias when the angel appeared to her to announce that she was to be the mother of the Redeemer. The servant of Queen Candace was reading Isaias when the Holy Spirit sent the apostle Philip to baptize him. It is significant that the office of reader is a minor order in the 188 July, 1950 ATTEND TO READING Church. How the Iectio dit~ina was treasured in the early Church and by the monastic orders down the years! St. Dominic made great progress in holiness by constantly reading the C'onferer~ces of Cassian, and St. Thomas Aquinas by reading and rereading the Fathers of the Desert and the Fathers of the Church. In this way St. Je~:ome finally broke his inordinate attachment to the pagan classical authors. And didn't St. Teresa cure herself of excessive novel-reading in much the same fashion? We can say without fear of contradiction that the saints universally practiced spiritual reading. I merely note tha~: St. Francis de Sales Used to read himself to sleep at night with z spiritual book, usually Scupoli's Spiritual Combat. He was evidently-following St. 3erome's advice. No wonder the spiritual masters chant the .praises of spiritual'_ reading. Thomas ~ Kempis says that a convent or monastery with-out spiritual books is a kitchen without vegetables, a table without: food, a well without water, a river without fish, a bag without: clothing, a garden without flowers, a purse without money, a vine-. yard without grapes, a tower without guards, a house without fur-. niture; and be adds in all simplicity: "From all these evils and'. injuries to the soul may the good Lord 3esus Christ deliver us, and'. may He be wholly in all now and forever. Amen." Speaking of his: monks, St. Hugh of Lincoln asserts that spiritual books were their arms in time of war, their occupation in times of peace, their support in time of trial, and their remedy in time of sickness. Perhaps Plus X is the most eloquent of modern recommenders of spiritual reading. What he says in his L~tter to Catholic Priestg about its apostolic and personal value can be applied also to religious. "Great progress is made by priests who persevere in this habit of reading; they preach Christ with unction; instead of enervating and distracting the minds and hearts of their hearers, they lead them .to better things, lifting up their souls to heavenly desires. For another reason, very profitable to you, beloved sons, St. 3erome's precept holds good: 'Let spiritual reading be ever in your hands.' Who does not know the very great influence exercised on the mind by a friend who advises freely, who counsels, rebukes, encourages and preserves from'error? 'Blessed is be that findeth a true friend' (Ecclus. 25: 12); 'He that hath found him, hath found a 'treasure' (Ecclus. 6: 14). Now spiritual books may be accounted as true and faithful friends. They remind u~ forcibly of the precepts laid down by authority concerning, true discipline, awaken in us the still small voices of Heaven, reprehend all falling away from resolutions, disturb 189 AUGUSTINE KLAAS Reoieu2 for Religious deceitful calm, expose less worthy affections and self-deception, and reveal the many dangers that lie in the path of the unwary. This they do with such uhobtrusive kindness that they prove themselves to be, not only friends, but the very best of friends. They are beside us whenever we please, ever ready to minister to our secret needs; their voice is never harsh, their counsel never biased, their utteraBces never deceitful or fainthearted." Ill Spiritual reading can be made in private or in common. It is done in common when one person reads and the others listen. Although this way of reading is practised and even prescribed by many religious communities and has certain obvious advantages, yet reading in common is by no means theideal. It is much less effective in procuring the principal purpose of this exercise, namely, virtuous will-action, chiefly because the personal element of the individual religious is not sufficiently taken into consideration. After all, each religious has his own personality, his own spiritual problems, needs. and so forth. What is pertinent for one may not be for another, and at the moment may even be harmful. Spiritual reading in common seems to be a carry-over from the days when books were scarce and perhaps illiteracy not unknown among religious. At any rate, it cannot compare with private spiritual reading, which is being adopted more and more by religious communities, certainly an adaptive move in the right .direction. However, if it must be done in common, the reader should be a capable one, who with suitable preparation tries to read slowly, distinct.Iy, and reflectively. Even where reading in com-mon is practised by rule, other free periods of the day can be profit-ably utilized for private spiritual reading, if only for a half or quar-ter hour. Spiritual reading in private should be done daily, if possible, and at a fixed time, when one is free from duties, and the surroundings are at least relatively quiet. Some find the chapel an excellent place for private spiritual readir~z. The reading should be preceded by a moment ot recollection and a short prayer or aspiration asking for light and grace to benefit by it. The aim should be to read little rather than much--multum rather than malta--and this should be done slowly, leisurely, so that the matter has a chance to sink into the soul like a gentle rain. The reading must be attentive, reflective, ruminative. A wise old laybrother, on the way to spiritual reading, used to say: "Let us chew the cud; unless a sheep chews the cud, it 190 Jul~,1950 ATTEND TO READING will never grow fat." Hence, a pause from time to time, a pause to think, to pray, to meditate, to listen, for St. Augustine says, "When you pray, you speak to God; when you read, God speaks to you." Should we not listen to Him? An old spiritual writer counsels doing what chickens do when they drink water: they take a sip and then look up to. heaven, and keep repeating the process. When we come to something that strikes us, that stirs the affec-tions, we must stay there, read it over and over again, savor it, per-meate it with prayer and aspirations, even make a note of it for future reference. In this way we shall be like the prophet Ezechiel who was told to eat a book, not to swallow it whole; and then like him we ~oo shall find the book "sweet as honey" in the mouth (Ezech. 3:1-3). Such reading will produce fruit, thirty, sixty, and a hundred-fold, provided we understand, absorb, penetrate, realize, and apply to ourselves what we read. It will make us put on Christ, put on Our Blessed Lady, put on Paul, put. on David, put on all the saints and holy ones of God. Ascetical writers say: Read, not with a view to finding fault, but with a deep spirit of faith. It is so easy to be hypercritical and unfair, like spiders distilling venom where bees sip only sweet nec-tar. Read with humility. That is what h Kempis says: "If you wish to make progress, read humbly." Do not be frightened by the style, especially of the old masters; it is something quite secondary, if not unimportant, for our purpose. Persevere, too, and do not flit superficially from book to book. A sick man will never be cured if be merely browses about among the medicine bottles. IV What to read? We are not concerned here with the reading of spiritual books taken in an improper or analogous sense, though undoubtedly it has great advantage for the interior life.' Such, for example, is reading the book of nature. The writer recalls once travelling with a Cistercian abbot on a train going through the Swiss Alps. The mere sight of those snow-covered peaks bathed in sun-light seemed to take the contemplative abbot right out of this world, up to the beauty and grandeur of God. Many of the saints read the book of nature assiduously. Who does not recall Ignatius Loyola contemplating the stars; Francis of Assisi, the birds, animals, Brother Sun, find Sister Moon; Joseph of Cupertino striking the flowers with his cane to 'keep their beauty from sending him into an ecstasy; Teresa of Avila devoutly pondering the waters of fountains, brooks, 191 AUGUSTINE KLAAS Review [or Religious and streams; Francesca Cabrini gazing prayerfully on the wide expanse of the ocean? Perhaps religious do not do enough of this sort of reading; perhaps religious, especially nuns, are indoors too much. There is another type of this so-called reading: it is reading the book of the crucifix. Saints, like Thomas Aquinas and Bona-venture, found much wisdom in it. Philip Beniti (Breviary, Aug. 23) called the crucifix outright "my book." Neither are we so much interested in this article in spiritual reading taken in a proper but wide sense of the term. By this is meant perusing theological, philosophical, historical books, or reli-gious novels, plays, and poems, for spiritual reading. No doubt Franz Werfel's The Song o[ Bernadette or-Francis Tbompson's poems can readily be converted into spiritual reading, and surely this ought to be done at least occasionally as a relief and diversion from regular spirittial reading. By applying the method of reading sketched above, almost any book, even a grammar or scienc~ book, can become spiritual reading of sorts, but this is not spiritual reading in.the strict and ordinary sense, nor should it take the place of the daily reading prescribed by rule. A good norm is this: for the reading prescribed by rule, particularly if it is done in common, what is ordinarily meant by a spiritual book should be used, except on rare occasions. But for any extra time devoted to this exercise, over and above what is prescribed, one can be much freer in one's choice of books. (I might suggest, by way of digression, that in making this spir-itual reading in the wide sense, religious might keep in mind what Coleridge says of readers in general. He distinguishes four classes. "The first class of readers may be compared to an hour-glass, their reading being as the sand; it runs in and runs out, and leaves not a vestige behind. A second class resembles a sponge, which imbibe~ everything, and returns it in nearly the same state, only a little dirtier. A third class is like a jelly-bag, which allows all that is pure to pass away, arid retains only the refuse and dregs. The fourth class may be compared to the miner of Golconda, who, casting .aside all that is worthless, preserves only the pure gems." If we adopt the method of reading suggested above, surely we shall be mine-workers of Golconda, gathering gems and nuggets of spiritual wisdom to trad~ for heavenly riches. And at the end of each day's .treasure-harvest, should we not give thanks to God for the graces received while reading?) First on the list of spiritual reading books in the strict, sense is the 192 ATTEND TO READING Bible, the spiritual book par excellet~ce. St. Paul writes: "Every-thing in the Scriptures hasbeen divinely inspired, and has its uses: to instruct us, to expose our errors, to correct our faults, to educate us in holy living" (II Tim. 3:16). Do we appreciate the Old Tes-tament sufficiently, and do we read it? Of course, for the beginner a selection of Old Testament Books is advisable. Wisdom, Proverbs, Ecclesiasticus, Ecclesiastes, Tobias, ,lob, Ruth, Esther, Isaias, Psalms --these books contain a rich mine of gpiritual treasure. Gradually one can take on the other books also. A good point as we read is to link up the Old and New Testaments, to note, for example, the shadows and figures of the Old .Testament and their fulfillment and verification in the New. Religious are much better acquainted with the New Testament, especially the four Gospels, which must be gone over and over again to be really assimilated and loved. But have we read the Acts of the Apostles? Or the magfiificent letters of St. Paul?. Or the minor letters of the New Testament? Monsignor Ronald Knox's translation of the Holy Scriptures, whatever its deficiencies from the scholarly angle, has this great advantage that it is highly intelligible for the average reader. We recommend it, particularly for the books of the Old Testament and for the Epistles of St. Paul. An encouragement to read the Holy Scriptures for spiritual reading is the three hundred days' indulgence attached by Pope Leo XIII to at least a quarter hour of such reading. And Pope Benedict XV admonishes that "none can fail to see what profit and sweet tranquility must result in well-disposed souls from such devout reading of the Bible. Whoever comes to it in piety, faith, and humility, and with a determination to make progrez in it, will assuredly find therein and will eat the 'bread that comes down from heaven' (,lohn 6:50) . Our one desire for all the Church's children is that, being saturated with the Bible, they may arrive at the all-surpassing knowledge of desus Christ." (Encyclical Spiritus Paraclitus.) . The Apostolic Fathers are certain ecclesiastical writers of the end of the first century and the first half of the second. Although they are not divinely inspired as are the writers of Holy Scripture, they nevertheless portray vividly the mind and spirit of the early Chris-tians. Perhaps the best known among them are Clement, Ignatius, and Polycarp. Who has not been stirred by the fervent letters of Bishop Ignatius of Antioch on his way to Rome .and martyrdom? To the Romhn Christians, who may try to prevent him from dying for Christ, he writes to dissuade them from such action: "God's wheat 193 AUGUSTINE K~AA$ Reuiew [or Religious I am, and by the teeth of wild beasts I am to be ground that I may prove Christ's pure bread." Bishop Polycarp, about to be mar-tyred, replies to the proconsuI trying to make him apostatize: "For six and eighty years I have been serving Him, and He has done no wrong to me; how, then, dare I blaspheme my King.who has saved me!" Who has not thrilled to the heroic courage of these words? Another contemporary source of inspiring spiritual reading is the accounts of the early martyrs, such as Tarcisius, Cecilia, Perpetua and Felicity. And then there are the Fathers of the Church: Cyprian, Ambrose, Jerome, Augustine, Gregory, Athanasius, Basil, Chrysostom, and many others. Their works on martyrdom, virginity, prayer, the ascetical life, the priestly state, make excellent spiritual reading,' reading that has nourished the prayer of .contemplatives down the ages. Also the Fathers of the Desert, such as Antony the Hermit, and the early monastic founders, as Pachomius and Benedict, furnish reading material for advancement in the spiritual life. Pope Pius XII on several occasions has encouraged the reading of these early writers; especially of the first centuries. Since our troub-lous times are much like those of the first Christians, he points out that we need the virtues they especially" exemplified, and he calls attention to four principal ones: 1) an unshakeable confidence in victory, based on profound faith; 2) a serene and unlimited readi-ness for sacrifice and suffering: 3) Eucharistic fervor and recollection arising from the deep conviction of the social efficacy of Eucharistic thought on all forms of social life; 4) a striving after an ever closer and more enduring unity of spirit and of hierarchy. At present there are two series of English translations of these early writings being published: one by The Newman Press, West-minster, Maryland, the other by Cima Publishing Co., New York. Librarians of religious communities should choose from these collec-tions those volumes more suitable for spiritual reading. Com!ng down the centuries, what a cavalcade of spiritual masters passes in review! Bernard, Aquinas, Catherine of Siena, Bonaven-ture, ~i Kempis, Teresa of Avila, John of the Cross, Rodriguez, Francis de Sales, Lallemant, Alphonsus Liguori, Vincent de Paul, Paul of the Cross, and many more. Among the more recent writers we have Lehodey, Goodier, Faber, Newman, Hedley, Th~r~se of Lisieux, Meschler, Chautard, Marmion, and Leen, not to mention the living. Some years ago REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS printed a list of some hundred authors and their works, which may serve as a basis 194 ATTEND TO READING for a re~ding program of the spiritual masters. (Cf. I, 105; II, 117.) Another rich source of spiritual reading is the life of Christ, of Our Blessed Lady, and of St. ,Joseph. These are timeless books, to be read and reread. Then there are the numerous biographies of the saints, especially of those whom the Church has singled out to be the official patrons of various Catholic works, and of the Blessed, and of other holy persons, particularly of the founders of religious com-munities, so instructive, inspiring, and enticing to imitation. In the last twenty or thirty years hagiography has made real progress towards taking the saints from their fragile pious pedestals and, by putting.their feet on the ground, making them attractively real. | V Of course, amid such a wealth of reading material, one must wisely choose. Here are a few suggestions for religious that must not be followed too rigidly but always adapted to special circumstances: Choose those books that will give you the spirit of your own religious order oi congregation, whether active, contemplative, or mixed. These should be preferred tb all others, especially in the early years of the religious life, and they should be reread often. If your community has few or none, then read the books of an order or congregation which has. your identical rule, or has for its purpose one similar to your own. Other books, depicting and implementing other ways of religious life or other states of life than yours, can be read gradually as the years go on. Choose books suitable to your present position in your religious community. The reading of novices is not going to be the same. as that of older religious. Young religious should be directed in their reading by some one experienced in this matter. However, certain authors are recommended by the Holy See to all young religious: St. Bernard, St. Bonaventure, and Father Alphonsus Rodriguez. The latter's Practice of Perfection and Christian Virtues (3 vols. Loyola Press, Chicago) has the added advantage of furnishing a systematic general survey of almost the whole ascetical field--a valuable help at the beginning of one's religious life. Choose books adapted to the spiritual needs of the soul at the moment. This reading will vary according as one is ill, or in con-solation, or in desolation, or in temptation, or in great trials, or has been appointed superior, or removed from some cherished office or employment, and so forth. It will vary, too, according as one has made great or little progr.e.ss in the spiritual life. 195 AUGUSTINE KLAAS Make it a point to read at least one book in harmony with the liturgical year, for instance, something on the Passion during Lent. I~ is good occasionally to read a general survey of the whole of the spiritual life, such as that found in Tanquerey, Garrigou- Lagr~nge, Saudreau, or Parente. A more o~ less systematic reading of the older authors, especially the spiritual classics, should be done by mature religious, while at the same time not neglecting the better books among the moderns. Here a list of books, graded in the order of importance, is a big help. Many modern spiritual books are superficial and ephemeral, and can readily be passed over in favor of the spiritual masters. Mystical books should be read rarely by the young and then only under direction. Older religious of balanced judgment may read such books with profit, especially those of St. Teresa of Avila. With regard to private revelations and mystical phenomena not yet having received the approval that goes with the person's canonization, on~ should always maintain a prudent reserve. This is the Church's own attitude in these delicate matters. An inordinate attachment to ~eading about revelations and mystical phenomena is a sign of' spir-itual immaturity and can be harmful to one's spiritual life. 'Finally, religious should read regularly one or several magazines devoted to the spiritual and religious life, such as Cross and Crown, Life of the Spirit, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, Sponsa Regis, or others in foreign languages. These, besides articles suitable for spiritual reading, furnish careful information on spiritual books and pam-phlets, old and new. To conclude with a common objection: "I am too busy; I have no time for extra spiritual reading." Let St. Robert Bellarmine answer it. After asserting that there is always a margin of time left over in the daily schedule tha~ can "be spent on meditation or pious reading, with great fruit for one's soul," the holy Doctor goes on to say: "Seneca in one of his letters takes to task those who claim that time is all too short;and be proves that their complaint is unfounded, because they waste a great deal of time. If only they would use it, they should have plenty of time . Many are short of time because, not content with honest recreation, they squander their existence in dawdling, gadding about, gossiping, visiting, reading about trifles, and doing nothing useful." Perhaps St. Robert has something there! Book/?ev ews ST. TERESA OF JESUS. By Father Gabriel of St. Mary Magdalen, O.C.D. Translated from the Italian by a Benedictine of Stanbrook Abbey. Pp. xll-~ 123. The Newman Press, Westminster, Maryland, 1949. $2.00 In this book Fathe~ Gabriel does for St. Teresa what he did some time ago for St. John of the Cross (see this REVIEW, VI, p. 377) ; that is, in a series of five conferences he introduces us to the works and doctrine of the celebrated mystic whom he regards as the great founder of what he is pleased to call "the Teresian school." He makes an effort to present the principal points of that doctrine in an ordered and systematic synthesis, and to "determine what is her considered opinion on the more central problems of spirituality" (p. xi). The supremely important aim in the spiritual life is not contem- t plation, but cbarRy, and the perfection of it. .Being most magnani-mous herself and having been treated most liberally by God, St. Teresa conceives this perfection to be love brought to the highest possible peak of generosity. Nothing, absolutely nothing, is to be refused to the divine Lover. Whatever He may ask, in deed or sacri-fice or suffering, the soul is glad to render. In particular it is eager to do all that it can in the apostolic spirit and for the salvation of souls. This lofty perfection is possible to all Christians who have sufficient good will. It is the same as that most excellent form of union with God, that "true union" of conformity of will in love, which above all other forms Teresa herself always desired and sought. After considering the goal, perfect love, it was only natural that a Carmelite and especially a sublime mystic like St. Teresa should turn to "the contemplative ideal." Besides infused contemplation, "We must conclude that, evidently, Teresa also is aware of the exist-ence of an active contemplation," described in The Interior Castle, "Mansion VI," 7. "Such a contemplation will habitually be the prayer even of a soul already mystical, at such times as it is not favored by God with more special divine enlightening. In the illu-minative way the active, or acquired, contemplation will easily alter-nate with the infused. The matter is thus understood by the whole Teresian school" (p. 118). Her understanding of mystical contemplation is narrower and richer than that of some modern authors: it "is a state of prayer 197 BOOK REVIEWS Reoiew for Religious wherein the soul is experimentally aware of God's action within it" (p. 24). "Even in the lower degrees of infused contemplation the divine action within renders itself in some way perceptible to the consciousness; the soul feels moved, drawn, and from seeing how that motion which it suffers causes it to occupy itself wholly in lovingly gazing upon God, it judges: 'God is acting in me. I am very close to God' " (p. 82). In St. Teresa's outlook the contemplative ideal is of course most important. It is a great "short cut" to the higher degrees of charity and virtue. One ardently in love with God experiences a certain need of the peculiar intimacy and inspiration which contemplation brings. Hence it is in every way most desirable. However, it is not necessary, even for perfect holiness. "We cannot conclude that all generous souls must attai'n to such forms of contemplation ['prayer of quiet,' 'sleep of the powers,' 'union'], much less that they can be introduced into that way of contemplation which, through the series of infused forms of prayer, leads the soul to the spiritual marriage as it is described by St. Teresa and St. John of the Cross . So we may speak of a way that leads to holiness, even perfect holiness, without passing through mystical prayers, strictly speaking" (pp. 36, 37). "Synthesizing these teachings of its great Mistress, the Teresian School has distinguished a two-fold way of perfection: the common way and the mystical way, that is the way of contemplation. The common way knows nothing of infused forms of prayer of th~ characteristic type described by St. Teresa" (p. 43). As a matter of fact, God is most liberal with His gifts and is wont to grant infused prayer to those who exert themselves suffi-ciently. "If we are to interpret her thought faithfully, we must say that in the highest way of sanctity, followed by thoroughly generous souls, mystical prayer, although not ~ecessary, is yet ordinary. Such, also, is the traditional position taken up by the Teresian mystical school, formulated by the Teresian Congress of Madrid" (p. 37). After dealing with perfection and contemplation in the first two conferences, Father Gabriel devotes the remaining three to the preparation that St. Teresa advises for contemplation, to an account of the "Mansions" of The lnterior Castle, and finally to the place of the sacred humanity of Jesus in the spiritual system of Teresa of Jesus. Father Gabriel's book is a clear, brief, and highly inspiring intro-duction to the doctrine of St. Teresa. Moreover, it presents the understanding and interpretation of it which the leading authority 198 duly, 1950 BOOK REVIEWS now in Carmelite spirituality considers to be the true and just idea of it. Hence this work is a very valuable addition to our spiritual literature.--(3. AUGUSTINE ELLARD, S.J. STORM OF GLORY. By John Beevers. Pp. viii -f- 23 I. Sheed and Ward, New York, 19S0. $3.00. This short life of St. Th~r~se of Lisieux is written with a two-fold purpose: (1) to reveal St. Th~r~se as a person truly measuring up to the heroic love of God and the neighbor required of a saint, and a person altogether unlike the child-like and sweetly sentimental saint she is made to be in many books about her; and (2) to point out that St. Wh~r~se has a very special relation to our modern times. Read in connection with the Autobiography of St. Th~rbse, Storm of Glory/will give one a very complete picture of the saint. It fills in many details of her family life in early years as well as her life as a Carmelite, all of which help very much to understand St. Th~rbse, and in addition it tells a brief running story of her life enlivened with concrete incidents and eye-witness stories which show Th~r~se to have been truly heroic in a grown-up way in her love and service of God. The second aim of the book is developed in Part II. The author calls St. Th~r~se of Lisieux th~ greatest saint of modern times, prin-cipally because she has made sanctity seem not only attractive but truly possible to thi many, many little people of the world, who but for her would have thought of sanctity as too remote and mysterious andimpractical for such as they. This is true because her own life was so very ordinary--ordinary works, no extraordinary penances, and for the most part no extraordinary spiritual experiences, and also because of the Little Way of Spiritual Childhood which she teaches as a sure way to become a saint. Further, to the author, Th~r~se, with her conviction of her own littleness and her love of God in every detail of her life, stands in direct opposition to the modern worldly spirit with its pride in purely natural accomplishments and its bitter hatred as well of fellowmen ~s of God. Over the years I have found each fresh acquaintance with St. Thir~se of Lisieux to be spiritually inspiring. And that is what Storm of Glory offers to its readers--a good measure of spiritual inspiration.--A. REID, S.J. PURGATORY. By Martin A. dugle, A.A. Translated by Malachy G, Car-roll. Pp. 203. The Newman Press, Wesfmlnster, Maryland, 1949. $3.25. There are very few worthwhile books on Purgatory. This is one 199 Book REVIEWS Reuiew for Religious of them, one of the best. Unlike most, it is written primarily from the viewpoint of the living and stresses throughout the consoling aspect of Purgatory. In it, Father Martin 3ugie, a theologian of high repute, presents and explains the Catholic doctrine in simple, clear language, but with theological exactitude and above all with reserve, especially on the delicate subject of private revelations. In fact, his balanced evaluation and prudent use of private revelations are some of the outstanding features of the book. The location of Purgatory, its inhabitants, its kinds of punishment, its time-length, these and many other topics, some not found in other books, come up for care-ful treatment. The author devotes considerable space ~o the w.ays in which we can help these souls, by Masses, indulgences, prayers, and almsgiving. Finally, he tells bow to avoid Purgatory altogether, or at least shorten one's stay there, by using the multitudinous efficacious means placed by the Church at the disposal of Catholics. He might have developed more at length the theologically well-founded though not certain doctrine of the immediate entry into heJaven of those who receive the sacrament of extreme unction betimes a;ad with the proper disposi-tions. The translator has done a fair job, but he should have done more car,eful proof-reading, and he might have added a helpful index. We recommend the book highly to all and trust that it will match in English the seven editions it has already seen in French. It is a rare book, combining two things: exact information and quiet inspiration. --A. KLAAS, S.J. PSYCHIATRY AND ASCETICISM. By Felix D. Duffey, C.S.C. Pp. 132. B. Herder Book Co., S÷. Louis, Missouri. $2.00. This slender volume points out defects in the exercise of the sci-ence of psychiatry as it is practiced today and as it is popularly preached. From a consideration of some of the defects of the science, the author goes on to a treatment of certain ascetical principles and practices which are basic to a complete understanding of difficulties in man's mental life, principles and practices frequently overlooked or denied in psychiatric treatment. Perhaps the finest chapters in the book are the Psychology of Mental Prayer and the Psychology of Mortification. The present reviewer has a practical problem with this volume, however. Though the author repeats several times that he has no quarrel with psychiatry which stays within the confines of its sub- 200 duly,.1950 BOOK NOTICES ject matter, the overall tendency of the book seems to condemn the science as a whole. A Catholic psychiatrist would find little encour-agement in reading Psgcbiatry and Asceticism. There are many reputable Catholic psychia~;rists who are doing splendid work in their chosen field, and it is fervently hoped that their number will increase. It is true that Freud held a philoso.pby not consonant with our rule of faith, but a distinction must be made between the philo-sophy of the founder and the therapeutic processes and clinical obser-vations and conclusions of the science. By stressing some of the ideas this volume does, the ordinary layman would put little faith in psychiatry.mJ. J. CAMPBELL, S.J. [NOTE: The preceding reviews of Purgatory and of Psychiatry and Asceticism are published through the courtesy of Catholic Review Service, St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas.] BOOK NOTICES GOSPEL GE,MS, by Canon Paul Marc, contains twenty-four meditations on as many events recorded in the Gospels. The .book is recommended to anyone seeking an aid in making familiar contem-plations or meditations on the Gospel scenes. The prayerful perusal of its simple and inspiring treatment of these scenes will help the reader to acquire a deeper knowledge of Christ and to achieve a more intimate union with Him. (Frederick Pustet Co., New York and Cincinnati, 1950. Pp. 226. $3.00.) AN INTRODUCTION TO HOLINESS, by Henri Petitot, O.P., is a clear, well-balanced statement of the essentials for holiness. The book has three main parts (The Ascetic Life; The Active Life; and The Unitive Life) and a conclusion on The Mystical Body. In these various sections the author insists on the necessity of self-denial, humility, prayer, zeal, knowledge of Christian doctrine, union with God and neighbor through charity[ There is a good chapter on the value of Christian art for stimulating devotion; and the theme that the holiness of one member has profound effects on the Mystical Body is excellently developed. The treatise is intended for the fer-vent laity and for religious. Even among these, the author says, comparatively few attain to a superior state of holiness. But all would profit by the thoughtful reading of this book. Irritating minor tones are the frequent references to things French and the author's apparently unnecessary insistence on his "Thomistic" posi-tion. The translation from the French was made by Malachy Ger- 201 BOOK NOTICES Reuie~u for Reliqious ard Carroll. (Westminster, Maryland: The Newman Press, 1950. Pp. vii ÷ 176. $2.50.) COME CREATOR SPIRIT, by Rev. A. Biskupek, S.V.D., is a series of considerations centering chiefly around those two magnificent hymns to the Holy Ghost, Veni Creator Spiritus and Veni. Sancte Spiritus. Other chapters deal with the role of the Holy Ghost in the sacraments. The book concludes with comments on the Mass of the Holy Ghost and miscellaneous reflections. The treatment is devotional, simple, full of unction, and directed to the heart. This book might best do service to religious as a well-spring for their meditations~to increase their appreciation of and devotion to the forgotten Paraclete. (Techny, Ill.: Mission Press, 1950. Pp. $3.00.) TAKE THIS SCAPULAR contains the conferences given at the Carmelite Third Order's Second National Conference held in the spring of 1949. In the thirty-four chapters, each by a Carmelite Tertiary or a Tertiary Director, is told the story of Our Lady's Scapular, its origin and history, its use and efficacy in modern life. This book provides valuable source material for study, meditation, and preaching on the Scapular devotion. (Chicago: Carmelite Third Order Press, 1949. Pp. 270. $2.50.) Thomas Merton's latest book, WHAT ARE THESE WOUNDS?, is an interpretation of the contemplative life and mystical experi-ences of St. Lutgarde, a thirteenth-century Yrappistine. It is a com-panion book to his THE WATERS OF SILOE, and THE SEEDS OF CONTEMPLATION, and gives a concrete application of the principles of the contemplative life discussed in these two former books. Although the author is careful to explain that the miraculous is only accidental to the mystical life, it is to be regretted that much of the book is taken up with relating just such experiences. This biography of St. Lutgarde is, however, interesting and pleasant reading, since it does afford an insight into the innermost life of an outstanding con-templative and a lover of the Sacred Heart. (Milwaukee: The Bruce Publishing Company, 1950. Pp. xiv + 191. $2.50.) Among the many celebrated writings by St. Athanasius probably none was more influential, over a wider area and for a longer period, than his perennial "best seller," THE LIFE (~F ST. ANTHONY. Atha-nasius had known and esteemed th~ great monastic pioneer and pro-duced this Lit:e shortly after the death of Anthony. The account 202 dulv, 1950 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS literally set the style for Christian hagiography. And, what is vastly more important, it exerted enormous influence East and West in spreading the idea of that full-time pursui.t of Christian perfection that is now organized into religious life under rule and vow. After the Gospels, this Life is really Book One in monastic and conventual literature. The present edition is Number' 10 in the Ancient Chris-tian Writers series. The translator and editor is Robert T. Meyer. .Religious scholars will be grateful to him not only for the smooth translation but also for the annotations with which he interprets the text. (Westminster,Md.: The Newman Press, 1950. Pp. 154. $2.50.) Very noticeable in recent literature on religious vocations is the striving to be realistic, to show young men and women, by word pictures and photographs, just how the religious life is lived. WHAT MUST I Do? by Sister Mary Paul Reilly, O.S.B., is an example of how this purpose.may be accomplished by word pictures. She takes one girl and her companions through the postulancy, noviceship, first and final professions: and, by means of their varied experiences, she shows the girl reader just what she might expect in the religious life. (Milwaukee: The Bruce Publishing Company, 1950. Pp. 96. ¯ $1.60.) THE UNHOLY THREE, by Rev. Henry J. Romanowski, is a very readable treatise on ascetical theology for the laity. The "Unholy Three" are, obviously, the world, the flesh, and the devil. Father R0manowski covers the principal ways in which these enemies attack the soul, as well as the various ways of combatting them. This is his first book. May he publish many more. (Milwaukee: The Bruce Publishing Company, 1950. Pp. xiii ÷ 160. $2.75.) BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS [For the most part, these notices are purely descriptive, based on a cursory exam-ination of the books listed.] B. HERDER BOOK COMPANY, St. Louis, Missouri. Human Personalit~l. By H. C. E. Zacharias. Pp. viii q- 360. $4.00. Describes the way India and China "by their own unaided efforts caused human personality to emerge out of its stage of collec-tive anonymity," and how Israel was an instrument in the hands of God "who gave to human personality a supernatural sanction and an eternal value, unattainable by merely human endeavors." ,, 203 dul~,1950 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS The Nazarene. By Eugenio Zolli. Translated from thd orig-inal ItaIian by Cyril VolIert, S.3. Pp. 309. $5.00. A volume of exegesis for "Scripture students and others who are confronted with difficulty of explaining obscure passages in the Gospels." Revival of Paganism. By Gustave Combes. Translated by Rev. Augustine Stock, O.S.B. Pp. v + 360. $4.50. "This survey of recent trends, especially those fostered by government, toward the dechristianization of our civilization, focuses attention in particular on Russia, Germany, and France." The Message of Christ. By Adolf Donders. Translated by Rev. Rudolph Kraus. Pp. xi ÷ 477. $6.00. Includes 204 brief suggested sermons, based mostly on the life of Christ, for Sundays and principal feasts of the liturgical year. Should prove useful espe-cially to busy parish priests. THE LITURGICAL PRESS, Collegeville, Minnesota. Tbeoloqg of the Old Testament. By Dr. Paul Heinisch. Eng-lish edition by Rev. William Heidt. Pp. 386. $5.00. Although of special interest to teachers of religion and theology, this book will provide the less specialized reader also with a deeper understanding and fuller apppreciation of Old Testament teaching on the nature and attributes of God, the spirit world, creation, the nature of man, human acts, the Messiah. The treatment is both scholarly and com-prehensive and copiously documented with hundreds of Scriptural references. LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO., 55 Fifth Avenue, New York. St. Anne and the Gouty Rector and Other Plays. By Henri Gh~on ~ Henri Brochet. Pp. xx + 190. $2.50. Contains seven plays and useful production notes for each play. The plays included are: St. Anne and the Gouty Rector, The Sausage-Maker's Interl~de, Parade at Devil's Bridge by Henri Gh~on; Christmas at the Cross-roads, The Gardener Who Was Afraid of Death, The Man Who Died Because He Wore Gloves, St. Felix and His Potatoes by Henri Brocbet. NEWMAN PRESS, Westminster, Maryland. Facing Life, Meditations for Young Men. By Raoul Plus, S.J. Pp. xii + 12I. $1.50. Facing Life, Meditations for Young Women. By Raoul Plus, S.J. Pp. xiv + 158. $1.50. Two small books, reprints. Recommended highly for priests 204 July, 1950 FOR YOUR INFORMATION and religious who want to help young men and women meditate. The Sunday Introits and Graduals. By Reir. E. C. Messenger. Pp. 175. $2.75. The Sunday Collects. Pp. 123. $2.75. The Sunday Epistles. Pp. 182. $2.75. -.-The Sunday G'ospels. Pp. 171. $2.75. These four volumes contain simple explanations of the various parts of the Mass. Helpful for religious who .wish to meditate on these parts of the Mass; for priests who wish to explain the Mass; and for the laity who want a deeper understanding of parts of the Mass. Lioing with God. By Raoul Plus, S.J. Pp. xvi -1- 93. $1.50. Another reprint. Seeks to arouse in the reader a more fruitful realiza-tion of the tremendous significance of union with God through sanc-tifying grace. By Rev. E. C. Messenger. By Rev. E. C. Messenger. By Rev. E. C. Messenger. JOSEPH F. WAGNER, INC., 53 Park Place, New York. In Praise of Our.Lady. By Martin Dempsey. Pp. vi + 225. $2.75. A book of sermons concerning the principal feasts of Our Lady, including a special series for a Novena to Our Lady of Fatima. For Your nrrorma on Passlonist Champion Champion of Church and Pope is an attractive pamphlet sketch of St. Vincent Strambi, the recently canonized Passionist bishop. In his preface to the pamphlet Bishop James H. Griffiths says that "Vincent Strambi is a modern symbol of victory of the suffering Christ and His suffering Church over the force and the fear of the tyrannical state." In the text itself Father Aloysius McDon-ough, C.P., brings out not only the remarkable story of St. Vincent's early life (he was rector of a seminary before being ordained a priest) and of his great courage in the face of Napoleon's tyranny, but also the essential details of Passionist life. The publisher is the Sign Press, Union City, New Jersey. Father McDonough, the author, 205 FOR YOUR INFORMATION. conducts the "Sign-Post" in the Passionis~ magazine, The Sign, and is the author of God's Own Method, a book which offers a "design for living . . . drawn from the lessons taught by the crucified Re-deemer." (See REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, VII, 50-51.) Company o{ Mary A Slave of Jesus in Mary is a pamphlet life of Mother Mary Potter, Foundress of The Little Company of Mary, familiarly known as the "Blue Nuns." The institute began in the latter part of the last century; the foundress died in Rome in 1913; yet the Little Company's hospitals are now circling the globe. The author of this pamphlet is Father Marius McAuliffe, O.F.M. Our readers may obtain it for the asking by writing to The Little Company of Mary Hospital, 95th St. and California Ave., Evergreen Park 42, Ill. Servanfs of Mary Another nursing institute of recent origin is The Sisters, Servants of Mary, a society of trained nurses who care for the sick and infirm in their own homes. It too is fast extending its services to the whole world. Its provincial house for the United States is located at Kan-sas City, Kansas. The foundress, Mother Soledad Torres Acosta, was born in Madrid, Spain, in 1826, and died in the same city 1887. She was beatified on February 5, of this present Holy Year. L~ftle Off;¢e M~I Dail~t Otlice is a 6-p~ge folder on The Little Office of the Blessed Virgin. It contains a brief commentary on the Office and reflections on the psalms and canticles. The author is Ft. Jerome, O.F.M. He found in giving retreats to religious that they do not get lectures on the Little OtSce as often as they would wish; hence, he gave some talks and later abbreviated them into this folder. Copies may be ordered, or sample copies obtained, from Assisi Press, St. Francis, Broad Lane, Cork, Ireland. Price for U.S.A. and Canada: $3.00 for 100; $8.00 for 300; $12.00 for 500. I/arla The Poor Clare Nuns have a new monastery situated on a hill-side overlooking the Santa Clara Valley. The address is: The Immaculate Heart Monastery, Route 2, Box 873, Los Altos, California. "The Boy Saviour, My Model for Life," is the title of a new (Continued on page 224) 206 ( ues {ons and Answers nl8m We have heard, or read somewhere, that the water cruet used at Mass should always be filled to the brim? Is that correct; and, if so, why should this be so? At the Offertory the celebrant is supposed to mix a very slight quantity of .water with the wine in the chalice. The quantity should be relatively slight: that is, slight with reference to the amount of wine that he takes. Yet, even priests who use a comparatively large quantity of wine usually try to limit themselves to only a few drops of water. The cruet should be filled in such a way that the priest can accomplish this without spilling the water. Generally speaking, it is very difficult for the priest to take only a few drops if only the bottom part of the cruet is filled, for in this case the water tends to gush out. For this reason, the stoppers so often used in water cruets are a nuisance. On the other hand, when cruets are filled right to the brim, it is often difficult to pour the water without spilling it. The safest way to fill the water cruet, therefore, seems to be almost to the brim. We might add, however, that cruets differ--and so do priests. Sacristans would do well to ask the priest how he wants the cruets filled. And if there is no opportunity to do this, the sacristan might experiment a bit until he (or she) knows just how much to fill the cruet to allow for the pouring of only a few drops without spilling or gushing. In some places Erlenmeyer flasks are used as cruets because it is so easy to control the flow of liquid from them. ml9m What is meant by a "perplexed" conscience? Is it the same thing as scrupulosity? By a "perplexed" conscience theologians mean a state of mind in which a person thinks he would commit a sin no matter what he does. For instance, suppose a mother thinks she would sin by going to Mass and neglecting a sick child, and would also sin by staying with the child and omitting Mass. She has to do one thing or the other--go to Mass or not go to Mass. Hence, according to her "conscience" she would sin no matter what she would do. Another example is suggested by this problem in Moral Guidance (p. 309), by Edwin F. Healy, S.J.: "What should a surgeon do in an 207 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS emergency case where in his opinion he will probably be doing wrong if he operates and probably be doing wrong if he does not operate? He must do one or the other at once." The "perplexed" conscience does not necessarily indicate scrupu-losity. Even one who normally has no difficulty making decisions for himself might occasionally face a situation so puzzling ~that it seems to involve sin no matter what he does. However, a scrupulous person is certainly more apt to experience this difficulty than are those who are not scrupulous. Since we have mentioned the "perplexed" conscience, it may be well to add here the correct principles of conduct in such an emergency. Theologians give three rules to cover the various possi-bilities : 1) Get advice, if this is possible, and thus do away with the perplexity. --For instance, the mother mentioned above might ask the priest or some prudent friend what she should do. 2) If advice or some similar help is unavailable, do what seems to be the less evil. --For instan6e, the s.urgeon mentioned in Father He.aly's problem has to act in an emergency and may have no oppor-tunity to consult persons or books. In that case he should try to estimate whether operating or not operating would be the less of the two apparent evils and then act accordingly. 3) If one cannot decide which would be the less evil, he may follow either course of action without sin. ---The reason for this last rule is that a person who judges that he will sin equally by acting and by not acting no longer has the freedom necessary for actually committing a sin. The ability to sin presupposes the ability to choose between two things, one of which is sinful, the other not sinful. 2O Is it true that the Holy See has condemned the practice of cjivincj several small Hosts to one communicant.'/ A decree of Pope Innocent XI condemned the practice of giving several small Hosts to one communicant. The reason for this prohibition was that the practice, as existing at the time of the con-demnation, was based on a spirit of false devotion. When there is no question of fostering a false devotion, a priest may give several Hosts to the same communicant: for example, when there is need of emptying a ciborium. 208 Reporl: I:o Rome I We c:ntinue hcre the publishing of the List oI Questions to be answered in the quinquennial report by pontifical institutes. For full explanation see our dan-uary, 1950, number, page 52. We encourage all to read these questions thought-fully, as they furnish an excellen~ survey of the Church's law concerning religious. The eighty-six questions published in our 3anuary, March, and May numbers contain the first three articles of Chapter I, "The Institute and Its Government." The questions are published exactly as they appear in the official English trans-lation. Questions marked with an asterisk (*) concern only institutes of men; those marked with a cross (t) refer only to institutes of women.--ED.] ARTICLE IV Concernin9 the financ;al 9overnmenf of the Institute § 1. - CONCERNING THE ACQUISITION AND LOSS OF PROPERTY Concerning the acquisition and registration of propert~ 87. a) What if any immovable property or precious movable property was acquired by the Institute, Provinces and houses; what was the value of these acquisitions. b) Was the aforesaid property acquired by gift or other gratui-tous title, or by purchase, and ~n this latter case was it with the funds of the Institute, Province or house, or with borrowed money. 88. Has the Institute, the Province and each house an inventory of its movable property, especially of that which is classed as precious (by reason of workmanship, history or material) (c. 1522 2°) and of its immovable property. 89. When must these invehtories be revised, and are they in fact revised. 90. In cases where works which are not the property of the house, such as clerical or religious residence-halls, hospitals, churches, etc., are entrusted to the religious houses, are these properties kept clearly distinct from those which belong to the religious house itself. 91. By what method or in~ whose name before the civil law is the religious property registered; and can this registration be regarded as safe in civil law. 92. What forms of registration have been adopted as the more s~cure in various localities. 93. If societies have been established for this purpose, was every-thing done in accordance with the civil law and is everything actually being kept in good order. 94. As regards the aforesaid societies: 209 REPORT TO ROME Review for Religious a) Were all persons to whom the administration or manage-ment of property is entrusted, chosen with due care, after making all the previous investigations which were necessary or useful. b) Were the members of the Institute itself given the preference over outsiders for oflqces of administration, whenever this could pru-dently be done without loss. c) What safeguards were used against dangers arising from abuses of administration. d) Is a constant vigilance conscientiously exercised according to law, through the checking of accounts and through ordinary and other extraordinary and timely inspections of safety deposits and other properties. Concerning expenses 95. Were extraordinary expenses paid from ordinary or extra-ordinary income proper, or on the contrary with borrowed funds. Concerning contributions 96. Did the individual houses and other units subject to the Provinces contribute toward meeting the expenses of the Provinces. 97. Did the Provinces and equivalent units and the houses which are immediately under the Supe.rior General contribute to the com-mon necessities of the Institute. 98. By what authority (Chapter, Council, General or Provincial Superior), on what principles and in what proportion are the contri-butions'to the general and provincial funds determined. 99. Were these contributions paid willingly or more or less under pressure. I00. Are the Provinces and houses allowed to retain whatever is prudently foreseen to be necessary or very appropriate for their own life and growth, in view of the good of souls and the welfare of the Institute. Concerning the alienation and diminution of property 101. What capital property, whether immovable, or stable (i. e. consisting of capital funds) or precious, was alienated, and by what authority, 102. In the alienation of property, were the provisions of law (cc. 534, 1531), especially regarding the previous appraisal by experts, and the norms of the Constitutions, observed. 103. Did the Institute, Provinces and houses consume any stable or founded property or capital funds; for what reasons and by what 210 July, 19~O authority. 104. Are the general, making serious efforts to red 105. What properties o suffered loss; and what wer! REPORT TO ROME rovincial and local Superiors and Bursars over this property. the Institute, Provinces and houses have the reasons. gilance of Superiors and their Councils ~d 'Bursars (c. 516 §§ 2, 3, 4) according Constitutions: ute. 'ovinces and other similar units. muses and works. 111. Does the Superior §3). 112. Do the Councils exercise vigilance in regard also as Bursars (c. 516 § 1 Concerning 113. How many times cils must the Bursars and o their administration. 114. Was a clear and in any case act also as Bursar (c. 516 ~ave their part in the administration and lit, even when the Superiors are acting how do they do this. rhe rendering of accounts a year and to what Superiors and Coun-her Administrators render an account of :omplete rendering of account demanded 21"1 under the direction and vi (cc. 516 § 2, 532 § I), 110. Are there designat to the common law and thl a) For the entire Insti~ b) For the different P: c) For the individual Concernirig debts and obligations 106. a) What debts w~re contracted, and by whom. b) What debts are ac~ua!ly outstanding. 107. In contracting debts and obligations, were the following faithfully observed : a) The provisions of c. 534. b) The precautions mI e.ntioned in c. 536 § 5. c) The norms of the Constitutions regarding permissions, the consent of the Council, etc. | 108. Was the interest ~n debts and obligations faithfully paid, and is diligent care taken t,oward the gradual payment of a debt or the amortization of the capital~ (c. 536 § 5). § 2. - CONCERNING THE[CONSERVATION AND ADMINISTRATION ~F PROPERTY 109. Is the administra~tion of property conducted, not arbi-trarily, but according to the common law and the Constitutions, REPORT TO ROME Reoiet~ for Religious of all and each of the Bursars and Administrators during the five-year period. 115. Were there presented together with the accounts the docu-ments showing the .expenditures and receipts. 116. Was there regularly an inspection and checking of the safe. 117. Are the necessary directions given to the Bursars and Administrators; if so how is this done, and what sanctions are imposed in case of necessity. 118. Have Superiors, Bursars or Administrators, or any other religious, any money or property which they can freely use without giving a regular account of it, even though it belong to the Institute, Province or house. Concerning the intpestment of money and changes of inuestment 119. Did Superiors, Councils and Administrators lawfully, safely and profitably invest (c. 533) the money which was to be invested according to law and the will of benefactors, observing the rules of law and the Constitutions. 120. Did Superiors, Bursars and Administrators make temporary investments of surplus funds which were not required for ordinary expenses, so that they should not lie idle but might draw a reasonable interest. Concerning the consert~ation of property 121. Are money, securities, contracts, precious articles carefully conserved, observing exactly the common norms and the provisions of the Constitutions. 122. On what terms, if ever: a) Were money or precious articles received from outsiders on deposit. b) Or conversely were such deposits made with outsiders by Superiors, Bursars, Administrators or private religious. 123. Do Superiors, Bursars, Administrators conscientiously strive that all the properly of the Institute, Province and house be religiously conserved and providently administered (c. 532 § 1). Concerning foundations, pious causes, etc. 124. What legacies and pious foundations were accepted. 125. In accepting pious foundations and legacies, were the rules of law (c. 1544, ss.) and of the Constitutions observed. 126. Was the money of foundations and pious causes, according to law and with the consent of the local Ordinary when that was 212 July, 19519 REPORT TO ROME required, invested (cc. 533 §§ 1, 2, 1547) and separately and faith-fully administered (cc. 535 § 3, 2°, 1546, 1549). 127. Were the obligations attached to foundations faithfully and conscientiously fulfilled (cc. 1514, 1549 § 2). 128. Did Visitors demand documentary proof of their fulfilment and an account of the administration of the property. Concerning business and trade, etc. 129. Did any religious, Superiors or subjects, personally or through others, engage in illicit business, that is, business not per-mitted to religious, in violation of cc. 142, 592. 130. In cases where for just reasons the permission of the Holy See. was obtained for engaging in business (give the date and Proto-col number), was every semblance, not alone of fraud but also of avarice, diligently avoided. 131. What precautions were taken that religious who are occu-pied in business dealings may not suffer spiritual harm. 132. Whether Superiors and Councils were attentively watchful that, according to c. 1539 § 2, in the administrative exchange of securities payable to bearer, all appearance of commerce or trading be avoided. Concerning actions or affairs which int)oloe tfnancial responsibility 133. How did Superiors exercise vigilance over the actions and dealings of their subjects from which there might arise according to law a financial responsibility on the part of the Institute or of the Province or house (c. 536 § 2) or of the individual religious (c. 536 §3). 134. Did Superiors clearly and effectively, according as the cir-cumstances required, take prompt action to clear the Institute, Prov-ince and house of all responsibility for actions and dealings done by individual religious without observing the norms of the common or particular law. 135. Do Superiors see to it that, in all matters which concern finances, or in those generally which could give occasion to litigation in the canonical or civil courts, everything be done exactly according to law, on the basis of previous written contracts and with the guar-antee of perfectly valid signed agreements, etc. (e, 1529). 136. Have any law suits or losses resulted from failure to observe the prescribed formalities of civil law according to n. 135. 213 REPORT TO ROME Review for Religious 137. !-!ave Superiors and Bursars diligently seen to it that extern workmen and all persons who work for the Institute, Province or house receive at the agreed time a just and fair compensation accord-ing to law (c. 1524), and that the provisions of law regarding the contract of hire and other matters be faithfully observed. 138. What provision is made for the spiritual welfare of those who work in the house, especially if they also reside there. CHAPTER II CONCERNING THE RELIGIOUS AND THE RELIGIOUS LIFE AND DISCIPLINE Concerning the diversity of classes ~ The vows of each class 139. What are the different classes, if any, among the members of the Institute; does harmony exist among the different classes and is f~aternaI charity observed among them. 140. Besides the persons who belong to the Institute or Society as members, by religious profession or lawful incorporation, are there others who are dedicated or given to it, or the like, without being members. 141. Is provision made in fairness and charity for the spiritual life of these persons and also for their material security. 142. Are there any legitimately approved,statutes for them. ARTICLE I Concerning ÷he admission, formation and profession or incorporation of members Concerning the postulantsbip in the wide sense (Apostolic Schools) 143. Are there in the Institute any aspirantships or postu.lant-ships in the wide sense: apostolic schools, etc. 144. For how long a time does the instruction and education in these places last. 145. In these apostolic schools and similar houses and in the residence-halls, are the students of tender age habitually kept separate from the older ones. Concerning the postulantship in the canonical or strict sense 146. Are the postulantships pro.perly conducted according to law in the houses of noviceship (c. 540 § 1), or in houses where perfect religious observance exists (c. 540). 147. Was the time assigned by the common law (c. 539) or by 214 Julg, 1950 " REPORT TO ROME the Constitutions for the postulantship abbreviated or prolonged; if so, for how long a time and by what authority. Concerning the admission of aspirants 148. What means are used to arouse and attract vocations. 149. Are there also advertisements inserted in public bulletins and papers. If so, in what bulletins or papers did they appear. 150. Taking into account the different circumstances of various localities, what causes are regarded as having an influence on the increase or diminution of vocations. 151. Wha~t are the obstacles which aspirants most frequendy have to overcome in order to follow their vocation. Concerning documents, testimonials and informations 152. Were the documents required by the common law (c. 544) and by the Constitutions demanded before admission in the case of each aspirant. 153. At least before entrance into the novitiate, were the fol-lowing testimonial letters demanded and obtained: a*) The common testimonial letters which are to be given by the local Ordinaries and are.prescribed for all (c. 544 § 2). b) The special testimonial letters which are to be given under oath by the Rector or Major Superior for those who have been in a Seminary or a residence-hall which is equivalent to an ecclesiastical one, or in a postulantship or novitiate of a religious Institute (c. 544 §3). c) Likewise the testimonial letters which are required in the case of clerics and professed religious (c. 544 §§ 4, 5). 154. Besides the documents and testimonials which are specially prescribed by law or by the Constitutions, were further informa-l~ ions, which it seemed necessary or useful to know in order to judge with certainty of the vocation and fitness of the aspirants, diligently sought (c. 544 § 6). Concerning impediments and admissfon 155. From what impediments or defects, if any, which are imposed by the common or particular law, was a dispensation granted; how often and by what authority was this done. 156. Were the admissions of aspirants always done by the com-petent Superiors, observing the rules of law (c. 543). Concerning the nouiceship~The house 157. Was every novitiate house erected or transferred after 215 ~EPORT TO ~OME Review [or Religious obtaining in advance the permission of the Holy See (c. 554 §§ 1, 2). 158. Does perfect religious observance flourish in the novitiate houses. 159. Did Superiors'assign to them or permit to remain in them religious who are hot exemplary in their zeal for religious observance (c. 55¢ § 3). Concerning the beginning of the novicesbip 160. Did all fulfill the prescribed days of spiritual exercises before entering the noyiceship (c. 541)~ 161. Were the rite and the rules prescribed for admission to the noviceship faithfully observed (c. 553). Concerning board and expenses for the postulantsfiip and nouicesbip 162. Is the right of the Institute to demand payment for the expenses of the religious habit and board during the postulantship and noviceship, given in the Constitutions or customarily recognized by express agreement. 163. Who determines the amount to be paid. 164. Was there any instance of the grave abuse of dela.ying the profession because the expenses of the postulantship or noviceshlp had not been paid. Concerning the giscipline of the novicesbip 165. Did all the novices and each of them from the beginning of the noviceship have a complete copy of the Constitutions. 166. Are the novices, according to law and the Constitutions, kept separate from the professed, and is any undue communication between them tolerated (c. 564 §§ 1, 2). 167. Did all and each of the novices before their profession per-form the canonical year of noviceship complete and continuous, without counting the first day, in a house of noviceship lawfully erected, under the care and direction of a Master (cc. 555 § 1, 556, 557). 168. Was the noviceship extended or shortened beyond the limits fixed by law (c. 571 § 2) and the Constitutions; if so, for how long a time and by what authority was this done. Concerning the government of the noviceship 169. Was there always in every novitiate a Master of novices 216 dul~l, 1950 REPORT TO ROME duly appointed or elected (c. 560). 170. Have the novice Master and his Socius all the qualifications and all the requisites prescribed by the common law (c. 559 §§ 1, 2) and the Constitutions, or did dispensations have to be asked for and obtained. 171. Are the Master and Socius free from all offices and minis-tries in or out of the house, which might interfere with their care and government of the novices (c. 559 § 3). 172. Do the Masters of novices, according to law (c. 561) and the Constitutions, under the vigilance and direction of Superiors and Visitors, have full possession of their proper authority and use it for the government and training of the novices. 173. Do all the Masters fulfill their office properly (c. 562) and remain constantly in the novitiate house. 174. Do the Master of novices and his Socius abstain from hearing sacramental confessions unless the penitents of their own accord ask them to do so according to c. 891. Concerning the spiritual training of the nooices 175. Were the novices, under the guidance of the Master, during the first or canonical year of the noviceship, engaged exclusively according to law (c. 565 §§ 1, 2) in exercises of piety and other exercises proper to novices; or on the contrary were they assigned to hearing confessions, preaching and external works or ministries; or " did they apply themselves expressly to the study of literature, sci-ence or humanities (c. 565 § 3) beyond the limited measure in which this has been approved by the Sacred Congregation. 176. During the second year of noviceship or during .the time which is over and above the canonical year, were the norms which were given in the Instruction of the Sacred Congregation of Religious (2 Nov. 1921 ) observed : a) Regarding the manner of exercising the external ministries of the Institute (nn. I, II). b) Regarding the conditions under which alone the novices may be sent outside the novitiate house (III). c) Regarding the two months' preparation for the profession (IV). Concerning the documents to be drawn up before the profession 177. Did all the novices, according to c. 569 § I, before the first 217 REPORT TO ROME Review [or Religious profession of simple vows, freely cede the administration and ~itber cede or dispose of the use and usufruct of their property. 178. In case the aforesaid cession and disposition was not duly made before the profession, or in case new property was acquired thereafter, was it made or completed after the profession (c. 569 § 2). 179. Were any changes of the aforesaid cession and disposition after the profession, made always in accordance with ¢. 580 § 3. 180. a) Did the novices of the Congregation, before their first profession of temporary vows, freely make a will in due form, valid according to the civil law, regarding their present or future property (c. 569 § 3). b) Did they afterward render this will valid according to the civil law (c. 569 § 3). 181. Were any changes which may have been made in this will after profession, made according to c. 583 2°. 182. Are the aforesaid documents a), b) faithfully kept in the Archives. Concerning admission to profession and the act of profession 183. Do the General Superior and General Council carefully and constantly keep a severe watchfulness as regards admissions; have they issued any special norms in this matter. 184. Does there seem to be in any Province too great facility regarding admissions, and have the prescribed norms and sound cri-teria been faitbfhlly observed. 185. Has the first profession, after eight full days of spiritual exercises, always been made validly and licitly according to law and the Constitutions (cc. 572, 573, 575) in the novitiate house itself (c. 574 § 1). 186. Was the prescribed rite observed in making the profession, and was the document attesting it duly drawn up (c. 576). Concerning the canonical examination 187L Did the Major Superioresses, or others acting in their name, two months before admission to the noviceship, to the first temporary profession and to perpetual profession, give timely notice to the local Ordinary (c. 552 § 1), so that he or his Delegate mlght gratuitously conduct the canonical examination regarding the free and conscious will of the postulant or candidate (c. 552 § 2). 188t. Was the prescribed examination always made. 218 July, 1950 REPORT TO ROME Concerning the dowry--The obligation and delivery of the dou)rg 1891". According to the Constitutions, is the dowry obligatory in the Congregation, or is it left entirely or partly optional (c. 547 §3). 1901". Was the delivery of the dowry made according to law (c. 547 § 2) and the Constitutions. Concerning the investment, conseroation, administration and return of the dou)rg 1911". Were the dowries, immediately after the first profession, always invested by the Major Superioress, with the deliberative vote of her Council and the consent of the Ordinary of the place where the capital of the dowries is kept (c. 549). 1921". Were the dowries spent or encumbered in any way b~fore the death of the religious concerned; if so, by what authority was this done. Were the dowries so spent or encumbered, even though it were done after obtaining lawful permission, afterward restored or cleared of the encumbrance; what is their condition at the present time (c. 549). 1931. Where and how are the dowries administered. Are the rules of law faithfully observed regarding their administration (cc. 550, 535 § 2). 1941. Is all property which is brought in as dowry, even though it be in excess of the sum required for a dowry in the Constitutions, or even though there be in the Congregation no obligation to bring in a dowry, accepted, invested, administered, etc. with the observance of the norms which govern dowries. 195t. In case of the departure of a professed religious, for what-ever cause it occurred, and in case of transfer, were the dowry and likewise the persona.l belongings which the novice brought with her at her entrance, in the condition in which they were when she left, restored to the religious departing or transferring, without the income which had already accrued (cc. 551, 570 § 2). 1961". Is this done also with property freely contributed for increasing the dowry even beyond the sum required by the Consti-tutions. 1971". In case of the departure of a professed religious who had been received without a dowry or with an insufficient one, if she was unable to provide for herself out of her own property, did the Insti-tute out of charity, according to law (c. 643 § 2), give her Whatever 219 REPORT TO ROME Reoieu; [or Religious was needed that she might safely and decently return home and be decently supp.orted for'a time. Concerning the profession and the renewal of profession 198. What if any dispensations were necessary for the pro-nouncement of the vows. 199. How many and what sanations were afterward necessary. 200. Were the temporary vows which are prescribed by law and by the Constitutions (c. 574 § 1), when the time for which they were taken had elapsed (c. 577 § 1), always renewed according to law (c. 577 § 2), so that no one ever remained without vows. 201. How often was the temporary profession extended beyond the six-year period allowed by law, and by what authority was this done (c. 574 § 2). 202. Conversely, how of

Issue 2.4 of the Review for Religious, 1943. ; A.M.D.G. Review i or Religious JULY 1~, 1943 ~ Shall Weo~Talk About Vocation? . ~The Edlfors Ignatius Of Antioch . -°. ¯ Augustine K~as "Chris÷ in the Refectory . w,~iam J. M,;ore Differing~Currents in the Liturgy ./ . G~rald Ellard Advice to a New Superior , A Spiritual Director Studies Du~ing Novitia÷e . . . . Adam . EII~s Si:,ruples versus Chastity . Gerald'~ Kelly Communication Book~Revlews Questions Answered Decisions of the Holy See ' " VOLUME II '- NUMBE~,4 REVIEW FOR- RELI.GIOU S VOLUME II JULY 15, 1.943 NUMBER OONTENTS SHALL WE TALK°ABOUT VOCATION?--The Editors .217 THE SPIRITUAL MESSAGE OF IGNATIUS OF ANTIOCH-- Augustine Klaas, S.J . 220 HOLY CHILDHOOD CENTEiXlNIAL . 234 CHRIST IN THE REFECTORY--William J. Moore, S.J .~.235 ¯ DIFFERING CURRENTS IN THE LITURGY, TOO--Gerald Ellard, 2S4.J3. BOOKLETS . 251 ADVICE TO A NEW SUPERIOR (By a Spiritual Director) .2.52 STUDIES DURING THE NOVITIATE--Adam C. Ellis, S.J .2.5.5 SCRUPLES VERSUS CHASTITY Gerald Kelly, S.J . 263 BEATING THE AIR IN PRAYER (A communicatiqn) .2.68 BOOK REVIEWS (Edited by Clement DeMuth. S.J.)-- THE EXEMPTION OF RELIGIOUS IN CHURCH LAW-- By the Reverend Joseph D. O'Brien, S.J. 270 ON THE PRIESTHOOD. By Saint 3ohn Chrysostom .272 THE BOOK OF CATHOLIC AUTHORS (2nd Series)-- Edited by.Walter Romig . 273 TALES FROM THE RECTORY-- By the Most Reverend Francis C. Kelley . 274 HOW TO THINK. By Arthur D. Fearon . 27~e THE LOVE OF GOD. By Dom Aelred Graham, O.S.B .2.7.5 HYMNS OF THE DOMINICAN MISSAL AND BREVIARY-- By the Reverend Aquinas Byrnes, O.P. . 276 DECISIONS OF THE HOLY SEE . 277 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS-- 26. Use of Golden Jubilee Gift . 278 27. Renouncing Share of Inheritance or 15ension . 278 28. Appointment of Local Councilors and Bursar . ~ . . 279 29. Title of "Mother" for former General .¯ . 280 30. Questioning Applicants about Parents' Marriage . 280 31.Canonical Meaning of "Legitimacy" . .280 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, July, 1943, Vol. II, No. 4. Published bi-.monthly: January, March, May, July, September, and November at the College Press, 606 Harrison Street, Topeka, Kansas, by St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas. with ecclesiastical approbation. Entered as second class matter January 15, 1942, at the Post Office, Topeka, Kansas, under the act of March 3, 1879. Editorial Board: Adam C. Ellis, S.J., G. Augustine Ellard, S.J., Gerald Kelly, S.J." Copyright, 19,43, by Adam C. Ellis. Permission is hereby granted for quotations of reasonable length, provided due credit be given this review and the author. Sub~¢rlption price: 2 dollars a year. Printed ia U. S. A. Shall We .Talk About: Vocal:ion? The Editors OUR recently concluded discussion of spiritual direc-tion indicated that ~ve can derive considerable profit from a mutual interchange of views. For this.reason we sl~ould like to continue the Communications department in the REVIEW and we think it advisable to directthe com-munications toward some d~finitely useful subject. From a number of suggestions offered us, we hav, e concluded that a~highly profitable subject would be Vocation. Certainly Vocation is an interesting subject to all of us, and atthis time it is more practical than tisual. For several years most religious institutes in this country, particularly those of women, have-been acutely conscious of the need of more vocations. The war is increasing the p~oblem. Any-thing we can do by way 6f mutual help in the present crisis will be a real contribution to the welfare of the Church. It is:onething to select a topic for i:lis.cussion; it is quite another to .determine individual aspects of the topic that are Worth discussing. In general it seems clear that our discus-sion should turn along lines that have specia.1 reference to priests and religious. The more specific determination of these lines will no doubt be brought out in the communica-tions. In the subsequent paragraphs we are attempt'ing to indicate a few questions that might be discussed more com-pletely if the readers are so inclined. Ther~ must be some among our readers whom God has blessed with more than ordinary success.in the work of fos-terin~ vocations to the priesthood or the religious life. This is not a talent in which one should glory or about which one should brag; yet neither is it a talent to be hidden under a bushel. A person thus blessed could probably make many 217 THE EDITORS helpfu.1 suggestions that other priests and religious could use. To publish such suggestions anonymously in a review for the exclusive use of priests and religious is surely within the most iigid requirements of humility. Attitudes of religious sometimes have great influence for good or bad in the development of religious vocations. At various times we have heard rather severe criticisms of three such attitudes that are said to impede the wholesome growth of vocations. Perhaps these criticisms are too severe or even unjust; but references to them may offer food for thought and discussion. - The. first harmful attitude is an erroneous estimation of the priesthood and the religious life with respect to. other Christian states of life. For instance, some religious are said to be entirely unaware of the fact that there is such a thing as virginity in the world. They do not realize ~ the excellence of virginity in itself, independently of tell-; gious vows and priestly consecration. Also, some religious o are said to give the impression that they do not properly understand the dignity and sanctity of marriage; they seem to think that all good young people should be priests or enter religion. A second harmful attitude is the false estimation of one's own institute with' reference to other religious insti-tutes: in a word, an inordinate devotion to one's own. A religious with this attitude is apt to disparage other orders and congregations, if not explicitly, at least by im131ica-tion. He may even try to hinder the freedom of the indi-vidual aspirant to choose the institute for which he seems to be best fitted; and in doing 'this he may even spoil a promising vocation. The third harmful attitude may be described in the following words written to a priest by a teaching Brother: "From experience I have gathered that the great 218 SHALL WE TALK ABOUT VOCATION? majority of our priests do not realize that a vocationto the Bro.the.rhood is a special vocation, nbt .just something one takes as a last resort'. It is a vocation which requires con-stant self-effacement, self-denial, and an' almost heroic. spirit of Faith. Yet to a large number of priest~ and 'to many others it is a vocation that has no.meaning." Enough for the criticisms. Another ~opic of interest is that of the loss of vocation. Is this problem more acute today than it used to be? Are there certain fundamental explanations of our losses? Are there remedie~ that can be applied more effectively than they have been applied in the past? The foregoing suggestions were selected at random, merely for the purpose of stimulating discussion. We hope our readers will think of other topics, as well as expand on these. The one thing that remains is to begi~ the discussion. If letters are sent we will print them. If the letters are too long, we may have to edit them; if they are too numerous, we may have to summarize them. We ask those who send communications to observe the following points: 1) As in the discussion on spiritual direction, our present purpose is positive. The aim is mutual help in a great apostolic work. Criticism of certain policies or atti-tudes may at times be necessary, but it should be offered in a spirit of kindness and with a view to mutual improve-ment. 2) Communications will be printed without names and without references to places, unless the senders explic-itly request that their names and addrehses be printed. 3) The communications should be addressed directly to: The Editors of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, St. Mary's College, St.Marys, Kansas. 219 The Spirit:uai Message Ignatius ot: An :ioch Augustine Klaas, S.~I. pOPE PlUS XII, in a stirrinig radio broadcast on Ascen-sion Eve 1942, bade us turn to the heroes of the primi-tive Church in order to "clear all mists from our minds" and to "put new life into ourhearts" in the dark, " threatening days through vchich we are passing. Most elo-quently he described these brave Christians of the first three centuries as "moral giants" and "athletes" ot~ Christ, vigor-ous in both thought and action. Such a moral giant and athlete of Christ was Ignatius, Bishop of Antioch in Syria, whose message comes to us clear and vibrant across nineteen centuries. It is something unique in Christianliterature; it is the impassioned, spirit-ual. message of a prisoner in chains impatiently hurrying to a martyr's death. Life and Letters The historical facts of the life of Ignatius are very mea-ger. He was probably a Syrian, born at Antioch. Neither the date of his birth nor the events of his early years are known with certainty. Legend has it that he was the little child whom Jesus singled out as an example of humility to the Apostles and.then took into His arms (Mark 9:35). Most likely, as Saint John Chrysostom asserts, he had seen the Apostles Peter and Paul, both of whom had dwelt for some time at Antioch, and had even been their disciple, since in the first century bishops were usually chosen from among the immediate disciples of the Apostles. Some think be was also a disciple of Saint John the Evangelist. At all events,. what is known for certain is that Ignatius was the third 220 IGNATIUS¯ OF ANTIOCH bishop of Antiocl~, succeeding Evodius, .who had. been ¯ appointed by the first .bishop of that city, the Apostle Saint Peter himself, During the reign of the Roman Emperor Trajan (98- 117 A. D.), a short but violent persecution of the Chris-tians broke out for some unknown reason, claiming Pope Saint Clement at Rome and the aged Saint Simeon, Bishop df Jerusalem, as illustrious.victims. Perhaps the most dis-tinguished martyr of this persecution, however, was Igna-tius. He was arrested, tried,and condemned to death °at Antioch in the early months of 107 A. D. (according to the historian Eusebius), and was sent off to Rome to be executed. The slow, wearisome journey through Asia Minor to Rome Ignatius made with other .condemned Christians, among Whom, it s.eems, were Rufus. and Zosimus. They were guarded by an escort of soldiers who were by no means p!easant travelling companions. Ignatius writes of them:' "From Syria to Rome I combat wild beasts, on lahd and sea, by night and day, chained to ten leopards--a company of soldiers,~who in return for gifts on!y get worse" (Ro-mans V, 1)1. In spite of thi~ brutal treatment, their jour-ney was like a triumphal march, .greeted as they were on all sides by the faithful of the places through which they passed. They made a halt at Philadelphia, another at Smyrna, where Ignatius was received by the bishop of that .church, Saint Polycarp, the future martyr, then a young.man, Hither also came delegations of Christians from various churches in Asi~Minor to salute Ignatius and to encourage him,to persevere. -The final stop was made at Troas., whence probably by way of Philippi and Dyrrachium they proceeded to Rome. 1The quotations in this article are translated from the Greek text of Ignatius' Letters, critically edited by Father Francis Xavier Funk in his Patres Apostolici, second edition, Tilbingen, 1901. 221 AUGUSTINE KLAAS During this protracted oia crucis Ignatius wrote seven letters of varying length: four from Smyrna, to the churches of Ephesus, Magnesia, Tralles, and Rome; three from Troas, to the churches of Philadelphia and Smyrna, and to Bishop Polycarp himself. These seven magnificent epistles, of undoubted authenticity, are "justly regarded-as the most precious heirloom of Christian antiquity.!'~ Written in a vigorous Pauline style, the letters of Igna: tius are filled with warm, sincere, earnest exhortation, and packed With theological doctrine on the Trinity, the Incar-nation and Redemption, the Eucharist, the Christian vir-tues, and the hierarchical nature of the Church. I.ndeed, chiefly on account of their unmistakable doctrine regarding the one, holy, apostolic, hierarchical Church, these, letters have been bitterly, but vainly attacked by Protestants for over two hundred years. The following is a typ!cal Christ-ol6gical passage: "There is one Physician, both corporeal and spiritual, born and unborn, God dwelling in flesh, true life in death, both of Mary and of God, first passible and then impassible, 3esus Christ our Lord" (Ephesians VII, 2). In these letters the word "Eucharist," meaning the Blessed Sacrament, appears for the first time in Christian literature (Smyrnaeans VII, 1; VIII, 1), as also the word "Catholic" applied to the Church of Christ (Smyrnaeans VIII, 2). Cardinal Newman, a profound student of patris-tic lore, does not exaggerate when he declares that "almost the whole system of Catholic doctrine may be discovered at least in outline, not to say in 13arts filled up, in the course of them.''3 They give Ignatius a just claim to the title of the greatest of the Apostolic Fathers. 2Bernard Otten, S.J., A Manual of the History of Dogtr, as, Vol. I, Herder, 1917, p. 65. 3John Henry Newman, Essays Critical and Historical, Vol.I, Longmans," 1901, p.,255. 222 IGNATIOS OF. AN~FIOCH Spiritual. Message " " What is I.gnatius' spiritual message to us in these Stormy times, so much like his own? What is that vital message of the early Church of the martyrs to which Plus XII so movingly calls our attention in his broadcast? The spiritual message of Ignatius of Antioch can b~ summed up Very simply: it is Jesus Christ. For this cou-rageous bishop Jesus Christ is all in all. Saint Paul preached closest union with Christ and Saint John taught us life in Cl~rist. Ignatius marvellgusly blends both these doctrines and inculcates them with extraordinary vigor. Christ is the ambient atmosphere in which Ignatius lives and moves; Christ is his interior obsession; Christ appears on every page, almost every line of his letters. I shall let Ignatius give us his message in his own words, as much as possible. It is true that he addressed it long ago to the clergy and faith-. ful of the churches of Asia Minor, but Plus XII says that he and his noble,, fellow-Christians are speaking to us today. "Abundant greeting in Jesus Christ"--this is his usual salutation to the churches, expressed in various ways, some-times twice and thrice over in the same letter. Jesus Christ is "our tr.ue life,~' "our inseparable life," "our unity of spirit," "our only Ma~ter," "our common hope." "Fo~ let us either fear the Wrath to come or.let us love the grace which is at hand, one of thetwo--provided only we bd found in Christ Jesus unto true life. Let nothing be. worthy - of you apart from Him, in whom I carry about my. chains, those_spiritual pearls in which may it be given me to-rise again through your prayers, which I beg I may always share . " (Ephesians XI, 1, 2). And. again, it is Jesus . Christ "WHO also was really' raised from the dead, His Father haVi_ng raised Him up, as in like manner His Father shall raise up in Christ Jesus us who believe in .Him, with-out whom we have no true life" (Trallians IX, 2). In 223 AUGUSTINE KLAAS every letter Ignatius gives himself a second name. It is always the same--Theophorus, "God-bearer";-and well might he have answered as the legendary third century Acts of Ignatius say he did when questioned about this name. "And who is xneopnorus. .the Emperor asked, and Ignatius replied, "He who has Christ in his heart." According to Ignatifis, there are only two classes of per-sons off this earth: those who live in and for Christ, and those who reject and deny Him. To the first class, com-prising the faithful, he says: "You do all things in Jesus Christ" (Ephesians VIII, 2). "You are therefore all fellow-travelers .along the way, God-bearers, temple-bearers, Christ-bearers, bearers of holy ti~ings, arrayed from head to foot in the commandments of Jesus Christ . And I am permitted to share your jsy . because, on account Of. another life, you love nothing but God alone" (Ephesians iX, 2)."I know that you are not puffed up, for you have Jesus Christ in you" (Magnesians XII, 1). On the other hand, those who reject .Christ are living corpses. "Of what benefit is any one to me, if he praise me, but blaspheme my Lord and do not admit that He was clothed in flesh? He who does not profess this has denied Him absolutely and is himself clothed with a corpse" (SmyrnaeansV, 2). But that is not all. ':As for me, unless they speak of Jesus Christ, I hold them to be tomb-" stones and sepulchres of the dead, whereon are inscribed only the names of men" (Philadelphians VI, 1). Avoid, therefore, those who are not Christ's. "Flee from those evil offshoots bearing deadly fruit, which if a man eat he presently dies. For these are not the planting of the Father: for if they were, they would appear as branches of the Cross and their fruit.would be incorruptible" (Tral-iians XI, 1; 2). "Abstain from noxious herbs, which Jesus Christ does not cultivate because they are not the Father's 224 IGNATIUS OF ANTIOCH planting . . If any man walk in strange doctrine, he has no part in the Passion" (Philadelphians III, 1, 3). And be yourselves genuine Christians, stamped with the image of God. "It behoovds us not only to be called Christians, but also to be Christians" (Magnesians IV,.1.). "For just as there are two coinages, ~he one of God, the other of the world, and each has its own stamp impressed "upon it, so unbelievers bear the stamp of this world, and believers the stamp of God the Father in love through Jesus Christ; and unless we willingly choose to die through Him in His Passion, his life is not in us" (Magnesians V, 2). "Wherefore, let us become His disciples, and let us learn to live like Christians. For whosoever is called by any name ¯ other than this is not of God. Get rid of the evil leaven which has become stale and sour, and be transformed into a new leaven, Jesus Christ. Be salted in Him, that none among you may be spoiled; since by your savor you shall ¯ be tested" (Magnesians X, 1., 2). Genuine Christians have faith and love, and these, lead to deeds. "None'of these things is unknown to you, if you have toward Jesus Christ perfect faith and love, which are the beginning and the end of life: the beginning, faith, and the end, love. And .wl, ien the two coalesce in unity it is God, and all other noble things follow. No man professing "faith, sins; nor does he who has love, hate. 'The tree is known by its fruit': likewise they who profess to be Christ's shall be recognized by their deeds" (Ephesians XIV, 1, 2). And What are these deeds? " 'Pray without ceasin~g" for other men also, that they ma~ find God, for there is in them a hope of repentance. Ac.cordingly, let them learn from you, at least through your deeds. Be meek when they are angry; be humble-minded when they speak proudly; oppose your/prayers to their blasphemies; in the face of 225 AUGUSTINE KLAAS their errors remain firm in the faith; be gentle when they are crud, and do not see.k, to retaliate. Let us be proved their brothers by our forbearance, and let us try to imitate the Lord--who was ever more wronged, more. despoiled, more despised than He?--that no growth of the devil be found in ¯ you, but that you may abide in all purity and sobriety in Jesus Christ, both in the flesh and in the spirit" (Ephesians X, 1-3). "Let us therefore do all things as though He were dwelling in us, that we may be His temples, and that He may be our God in.us" (Ephesians XV, 3). Hence, according to Ignatius, ~o be closely united to Christ, to live one's life in Christ, to be a bona Fide Chris-tian, means sinlessness, steadfast faith, strong love and Christ-like deeds. All this is fundamental. It is thus that one begins to be a "Christ-bearer." - But Ignatius goes- much further. He selects and emphasizes three particular means which will help greatly tO "put on Christ" ever more and more. It is these three means that make Ignatius eminently a guide for us today. . Un~t~l in Christ The first"important means stressed~by Ignatius is unity in Christ, that is, union with the bishop and other ecclesias-tical authorities, and also union with one another. We are one or-we are nothing: on no other point is Ignatius more repetitiously insistent. ' He counsels the Magnesians, who at the time had a young bishop: "It becomes you not to presumeupon the youth of your bishop, but, ou.t of consideration of~ the power of God the Father, to give him all respect, as I have learned that even the holy priests do not take advantage of his outwardly youthful appearance, but as men prudent in God they yield to him, yet not to him, but to the Father of Jesus Christ, to the bishop of a11" (Magnesians III,l). And to the Ephesians he says that "it is cle;ir that we must. 226 IGNATIUS OF ANTIocH look upon the bishop as the Lord Himself" (Ephesians VI, 1). ¯ The will of God, the will of Christ, and the will of the bishop are one and the same thing. "For this reason I took upon myself to counsel you to live according to the will of God. For Jesus Christ, our inseparable life, is the will of the Father, even as the bishops, appointed throughout the world, are in accord with the will of Cl~rist" (Ephesians IIL 2). "Therefore it is fitting that ~you should live in har-mony with the will of the bishop, as indeed you do. Fo~ your estimable prie~sts, worthy of God, are attuned to the bishop asthe strings to a harp. Hence, by your concord and harmonious love Jesus Christ is being sung. Now join in this~ chorus, each of you, that being harmoniously in accord and receiving the key of God in unison, you may s~ng with one voice through Jesus Christ to the Father, that He may .both hear you and recognize bE your good deeds that you are members of His Son. It is then .to your advantage to be in blameless unity, that you may have always a part in God" "(Epbesians IV, 1, 2). "For as many as belong to God and Jesus Christ .these are with the bishop" (Phila-delphians III, 2). Not only must there be union with the bishop but also with the priests and deacons. "Let all men likewise respect the deacons as Jesus Christ, even as they should respect the bishop as a type of the Father,. and the priests as the council of God and the college of the Apostles. Without these, there is noChurch" (Trallians.III, 1). Andthe faithful must be united to each other. "Work together, struggle together, run together, .suffer together, rest together, rise up together as God's stewards, assistants and servants. Please Him for whom you fight, from whom you receive your pay; let none of you be found a deserter. Let your baptism r~main as your weapons, your faith as a 227 AUGUSTINE KLA~.S helmet, your love as a spear, your patience as your panoply . Be therefore long-suffering with one another in gentle-ness, as God is with you" (Polycarp VI,, 1, 2). "Be then all in conformity .with God and respect one another and let no man regard his neighbor according to the flesh, but love one another in Jesus Christ always. Let there be nothing in you which can divide you . . . " (MagnesiansVI, 2). "'In your common assemblies let there be one prayer, one - supplication, one mind, one hope in love, in blamelessjoy, which is Jesus Christ, than whom there is nothing better" (Magnesians VII, 1). If, living harmoniously with each other, we must be closely united to the bishop, th~ bishop.on his part must be united also to us, his flock, so that there may be perfect unity in Christ's mystical body~ Ignatius gives excellent advice to the bishop in a letter to his good young friend Polycarp, Bishop of Smyrna. "I exhort you in the grace with which you are clothed to press forward in your course and to exhort all men that they may be saved. Defend your office in all diligence of flesh and of spirit. Watch over unity, than which there is nothing better. Bear with all men, as the Lord also bears with you; suffer all men in love., as you indeed do. Be diligent in unremitting prayer; ark .for wisdom greater than. you have; stand guard, having a sleepless, spirit. Speak to each according to the manner of God; bear the ills of all as a perfect athlete. Where there is more toil there is also much gain" (Poly~arp I, 2, 3). "If.'you love good disciples, it is no credit to you; bring rather the more troublesome to subjection by your gentleness. Not all wounds are healed by the same plaster. 'Be prudent as the serpent' in all things and always 'simple as the dove' . Be sober as God's athlete. The prize is immortality and eternal li'fe" (Polycarp II, 1-3). "Let not those who seem to.be trustworthy, but teach .228 IGNATIUS OF ANTIOCH strange doctrine, dismay you. Stand firm as an anvil which is smitten. It is a quality of great athletes to. take punish-ment and to win. Especially must we endure all things for God, that He may also endure us. Be more zealous than you are. Learn the opportune times for action. Await Him who is above time, eternal, invisible, w.ho for our sakes became visible, who is intangible, impassiblef who suffered for us and in every way endured for us" (Polycarp III, 1, 2). "Let nothing be °done without your consent and do nothing without God. " (Polycarp IV, 1). The Euc, barist and Unitg The unity in Christ so emphatically stressed by Igna-tius is fostered greatly by participation in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass and by partaking of the Eucharist, "a pledge of everlasting life in Jesus Christ." "Obey the bishop as Jesus Christ obeys His Father, and obey the priests as if they were the Apo.s'tles; respect~the deacons as y.ou do God's com-mand. Without the bishop le~ no one do anything which concerns the Church. Let that be considered a lawful Eucha-rist which is celebrated by the bishop, or by one whom he appoints. Wherever the bishop appears, there let the people be, just as wherever Jesus Christ is, there is the catholic Church. Without the bishop it is not lawful either to bap-. tize or to hold an agape [a Eucharistic love-feast]; but whatever he approves that is also pleasing to God." (Smyrnaeans VIII, 1, 2). Heretics, by disbelief in the Eucharist., disrupt unity. "They abstain from the-Eucharist and from prayer because they do not acknowledge that the Eucharist is~ the flesh of our Savior Jesus Christ, the flesh which suffered for our sins, the flesh which the Father in His goodness raised up again~ Therefore those who gainsay the gift of Godare perishing even as they wrangle; it were better for them to 229 " A~GUSTINE KLAAS partake of the Eucharist, that they too might rise again" (Smyrnaeans VII, 1). "Endeavor then to celebrate one Eucharist, for there is one flesh of our Lord Jesus Christ and one chalice for union with His blood, one altar, just as there is one bishop with his priests and deacons, my fellow-servants,. " (Philadelphians IV, 1). Ignatiu~ speaks of the Ephesians as "breaking one bread, which is the" medi-~ cine of immortality, the antidote against death, a pledge of everlasting life in Jesus Christ" (Ephesians XX, 2). He himself longs for union with his Eucharistic Lord. "I take no pleasure in the corruptible foo.d or the delights of this life. I desire the 'bread of God,' which is the flesh of Jesus Christ, 'who was of the seed, of David,' and for drink I desire His blgod, .which is incgrruptible love" (Romans VII, 3). Imitation of the Suffering Christ Union with Christ and life in Christ are achieved also by a third means, by imitating Him and modelling one's life on His. Since Ignatius' thoughts constantly .revert to the painful death which is waiting for him at the end of his present journey/he is preoccupied with imitating the suf-ferings and death of Christ. To shed one's blood in mar-tyrdom beconsiders the closest imitation of Christ; it is per-fection itself. The only true disciple of Christ is he who gives his life for Him. Ignatius, ' shackled and condemned° to death, now only begins to be a real disciple of his suf-fering Master and he Will be a perfect disciple only through a bloody martyrdom. " Let no one interfere to rob him of this prize, for whoever shares in Christ's sufferings and death will also participate in His glory. "Honored with a name most pleasing to God, I laud the Churches in the chains which I bear, and I pray that in them there may be a union with the flesh and- blood of Jesus 230 IGNATIUS OF ANTIOCH Christ, whois our ev.erlasting !ife, a union in faith and love, to which nothing is preferable, and aboveall a union with ~lesus andthe Father, in Whom, if "we endure the full on-slaught of the prince of this world.and go unscathed, we shall attain unto God" (Magnesians I, 2). "But if, as certain godless persons, that is, unbelievers, affirm. "His suf-fering was only a semblance . why am I a prisonei, and why do I even long to fight with the beasts? In that case, I die in vain; then indeed do I lie concerning the Lord" (Trallians X, 1). "If these things were done by bur Lord only in semblance, then I too am chained only in semblance. Why have I given myself up to death, to fire, to the sword, to wild beasts? Because to be near to the sword is to be near to G6d, and to be with wild beasts is to be .with God, pro-vided it be in the name of 2esus Christ. That I may suffer along with Him, I endure all thin.gs, and He strengthens me who is the perfect Man" (Smyrnaeans IV, 2). In the letter to the "Romans we find passages on mar-tyrdom which are sublime and immortal. Only a few can be cited here. Ignatius feared the Roman Christians would intercede for him with the government and thus deprive him Of his martyr's crown. Sohe .begged them to "grant me nothing more.than that I.may be immolated to God, while an altar is still ready; in order that forming a choir in charity you may sing to the Father in Christ ,lesus, because God deigned to grant that the bishop of Syria be found at the setting of the sun, having summoned him from its rising. It~is good to set from the world unto God, that I may rise unto Him (Romans II, 2). "I am writing to all the Churches and bid all men know that I die willingly for God, unless you should hinder me. I beseech yo.u not to show me an unseasonable kindness. Let me be the food of wild beasts, th.rough whom I can attain to God. I am God's wheat, and I am being ground 231 AUGUSTINE KLAAS by the teeth of wild beasts that I may be fdund ChUtist's pure bread. Rather entice the beasts that they may become my tomb and leave no trace of my body, so that when I have fallen asleep in death, I.shall not be burdensome to anyone. Then shall I be truly a disciple of Christ when the world shall not even see my body. Beseech Christ for me that through these instruments I may become a holoca.ust to God. I do not command you as did Peter and Paul. They were Apostles, I am a convict; they were free, I am to this very moment a slave. But if I suffer, then shall I be a freed-man of Jesus Christ and in Him I shall rise free. I am-learn-ing now in my chains to extinguish every human desire" (Romans IV, 1-3). "O that I may have joy in the beasts, prepared for me, 'and-I pray that they too may be found prompt for me; I will even entice them to devour me quickly, so" as not to be like those whom they did not touch through fear. Even if they themselves be unwi.lling, I will force them to it. Grant me this favor; I know what is expedient for me. -Now do I begin to be a disciple. °May naught visible or invisible envy me my attaining to Jesus Christ. Fire, the cross, combats with wild beasts, cuttings, manglings, wrenchings of bones, hacking of limbs, crushing of my whole body, cruel tor-tures of the devil, let them all come upon me, provided only I attainto Jesus Christ" (Romans V, 2, 3). "The confines of the earth and the kingdoms of this world shall profit me no~hing. It is better for me to die in Christ Jesusthan to reign over the ends of the earth. I seek Him who died for us; I desire Him who for our sakes rose again from the dead. The pains of birth are upon me. Bear with me, brethren! Hinder me not from living, do not wish my death. Do not give to the world one who desires to be God's, nor seduce him with material things. Allow me to recelve the. pure light; when I have arrived thither, 232 IGNATIUS OF ANTIOCH then shall I be a man. Let me imitate the Passion of my God" (Romans VI, 1-3). "The prince of this world wishes to tear me to pieces and to corrupt my mind towards God. Let none of you present help him; be rather on my side, that is, on God's. Do not speak of Jesus Christ and yet desire the world. Let no envy dwell among you. Even if I myself, when present, shall b~seech you, do not obey me; rather follow this which I write to you. For I write to you in the midst of life, yet as one yearning for death. My human love is crucified and there is in me no fire of love for material things, but only 'living water' speaking and saying within me 'Come to the Father' " (Romans VII, !, 2). Death of Ignatius This urgent summons to the Fath4r was soon to be realized. Arriving in Rome in the latter part of the same year 107, Ignatius heroicallymet the d~ath he so ardently longed for, probably in the Coliseum. The~e are extant no. authentic details of his final combat with the beasts, nor can the date of his death be determined with accuracy. Shortly after, his relics were taken back to Antioch and there they remained until 63 7 when they were removed to the church of Saint Clement'in Rome where they still rest. The uni-versal Church celebrates his feast on February 1st. .Ignatius was every inch a bishop of the Holy Roman Catholic Church. Self-sacrificing in his devotion to duty, fearless in defending the faith, untiringly solicitous~ for unity, ever an inspiring apostle by his personal holiness as well as by his words, he was one of the most profoundly Christian heroes of all times. As a,true shepherd, he laid down his life for his flock. He carried out fully what he himself once wrote: "Teaching. is good, if the teacher does what he says" (Ephesians ,XV, 1). He went even further, 233 AUGUSTINE KI~AAS he sealed his message with his blood. Hence we accept that message, for it rings true. It teaches us union with Christ and life in Christ by means of deep faith and an active love that overflows in good works, by close harmony with God's representatives in His Church and with our fellowmen, by participation in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass and in the Eucharist, by the close imitation of 3esus Christ, especially in. His Passion and Death. The spirited message of Ignatius was.often read at the gatherings of.the faithful of the primitive Church; it gave comfort and inspiration to brave hearts in many a dark hour. It has not lost its appeal and significance today, for the message is ,Jesus Christ, who St. Paul says i~ "the same, yesterday and today, yes, and forever" (Hebrews 13:8). HOLY CHILDHOOD CI=NTI=NNIAL The Pontifical 'Association of the Holy Childhood is celebrating its hundredth anniversary this year. The Association was founded by Bishop Charles de Forbin- Janson, who was born in Paris in 1785. \Vith the help of Pauline Jaricot, foun-dress ~f the Propagation of the Faith Society, be made plans for the establishment of the Association of the Holy Childhood. In 1843 the first council of the Association was appoi'nted. The membership was to be m~de up of childrer~ "throughout the world and each child, besides praying for the missions, was to give a penny a month. While the baptism of dying pagan children was to be the chief aim of the Association, it was determined that the society would also undertake the. erection of orphanages, work-shops, and other institutes for children. , ~ The fi}st returns of the Holy Childhood Association were only $25,000; in 1940, they had grown to $2,000,000. This money has been spread into some six hundred mission centers of the Catholic world. Pope Plus XI raised the Associa-tion to pontifical rank in 1926. Our Present Pontiff, Pius XII, as Cardinal Pacelli, was the Holy Childhood Association's Cardinal Protector. 234 Christ in the Refectory William J. Moore, S.J. RELIGIOUS are used to hearing the words of our Lord read to them during meals in the community refec-tory. The.re is a special.appropriateness in this practice "arising from the fact that a surprising number of these words w~re spoken by our Lord while actually in a refec-tory, or at least at times when His hearers were concerned, about food and drink. Man's necessary, concern about bodily food supplied occasions for miracles and discourses on the spiritual food of the soul. Page after page of the Gospels deals wkh Christ's mealtime instructioris. At the marriage feast of Cana our Lord changed xvater into wine and first manifested His glory. His disciples, too, were at the wedding celebration, and their belief in Christ ¯ was confirmed by the miracle. Such marriage feasts as this lasted seven days~ and a great quanti~y of wine was needed for the large number of guests who might drop in at' any time. Sympa.thetically our Lord relieved the distress of the young couple when their supply failed. (John 2.) Wearied after a !ong tramp over the hill roads, Jesus stopped at the well of Jacob. His disciples xvent ahead to buy food in the villhge close by. Christ. ~vas thirsty and asked the Samaritan womah for a drink. Then He took occasion to teach this poor sinful woman of her need of the living water of divine grace. She could offer Him cool water from the well, but He offered to her refreshing draughts of grace for her arid soul. (John 4.) Levi, the publican, was sitting at the tax-collector's booth one day. "Follow me," said Christ. Leaving all things, Levi followed Christ. To commemiarate his call to the apostolate, Levi (or Matthew, as he is better known) .235 ~rlLLIAM J. MOORE gave a great feast for Christ. A large gathering of publi-cans was at table with the Savior and Levi. ~'Why do you eat arid drink with publicans and sin-ners?" the grumblirig Pharisees and scribes asked the dis- . ciples. Christ answered the quest.ion Himself. "It is not the healthy who need a physician, but they who are sick. I have not come tocall the just, butsinners to repentance.~' As a physician Christ had to deal with and gain the confi-dence of.His patients. ' Then He explained why His disciples did not fast like those of ~lohn, and spoke a parable about the difference between the old order and the new. One Sabbath day Christ and His disciples were walking through a field of standing grain. The disciples were hun-gry and plucked some of the grain and .ground it in their hands. The Pharisees objected that this little operation°of milling grain by hand was a violation of the Sabbath. Christ replied that He was Lord of the Sabbath. The delighted disciples, thus justified, continued joyfully to munch their pitiful little meal of dry grain before the angry eyes of the discomfited Pharisees. (Luke 6.) Luke tells of a dinner at the home'of a Pharisee. Quite Often Christ dined with Pharisees, just ~is he dined with publicans. On this occasion a woman in the town who was a sinner, upon learning that Christ was at table in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabasterjar of ointment; and standing behind Him at His feet, she began to bathe His feet with her tears, and wiped them with the hairoff her head, andkissed His feet, and anointed them with oint-ment. (L,uke 7.) To understand such an occurrence, we must remember that ~lewish customs differed from ours tod~ly. Strangers were often permitted to look on at great feasts. The guests usually did not sit in chairs as we do, but. reclined on couches, resting on the left elbowand eating with the right 236 " CHRIST IN THE REFECTOR~ hand. The couche~-were placed in the foim of a horse-shoe, so that servants could easily get to the tables plac.ed before.~he diners. T.,he Pharisee host was sh~cked. If Christ had divine knowledge, reasoned the Pharisee, He ought to know that the woman was a sinner, and should not let her touch Him. But .Christ at the dinner table contrasted the host's cold_ness and neglect with the sorrowful love of the peni-tent, )~nd gently told the woman, "Thy sins are forgiveh . Go in peace." It was evening in the desert. Five thousand men, not counting women and children, were with Christ far from village food markets. Only five loaves .and two fishes were to be had. The disciples urged the Master to dismiss the people at once, that tl~ey might get back to town as soon as possible. But Jesus said to the disciples, "They do not need to go away; you yourselves give them some food . And looking up to heaven, .[He] blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to His disciples, and the disciples gave them.to the crowds. And all ate and were satisfied." (Matthew 14.) Four thousand men, apart from children and women,, were with Christ on another occasion. The compassion-ate Savior said, "They have now been with Me three day~, and.have nothing to eat; and I am unwilling to send.tl'iem away fasting, lest they faint on the way." Once more our Lord multiplied loaves and fishes in a wondrous miracle to foreshadow the magnificent spiritual feast of the Holy Eucharist. (Matttiew 15:) Mary was sitting at our Lord's feet while her sister Martha was. busy straightening up tl~e house and watching the fire where a tasty meal was simmering. Our Lord did not condemn Martha for.her care about dusting and cooking. He did' approve of Mary's action, and spoke 237 WILLIAM J. MOORE the classical text for'proving the superiority of the con. templative life over the active life: "One thing is needful. Mary has chosen the best part." (Luke 10.) A Pharisee asked Christ to dine with him. Christ accepted, went in to the supper room, and reclined at table. He had of set purpose omitted the ritualistic washings which the Pharisees had elevated in importance to laws of supreme moment. When the Pharisee.host criticized Christ " in his heart, the Mast(Jr excoriated, the hypocrites' who were fanatical about washing their hands and cleansing pots and cups, but cared nothing .about washing sin from their souls. Fearlessly He denounced the whole brood of Pharisees and scribes who boasted that they had paid tithes " on everything they ate, even on the tiny little spice herbs such as mint. Christ was a guest Who never-bowed to the pride Or passion of His host. (Luke 11.) We find Christ a guest again in the house of a ruler of the Pharisees. It was a Sabbath. A great quantity of food had been prepared ahead, of time, lest there be any unnecessarywork on that day. Of that the Pharisee.s were very scrupulous, but of mercy they cared not. In fact they sought to trap Christin His mercy. Before the entrance to.the house a man ill with dropsy' was stationed. Would Christ cure the man on the Sab-bath? The Pharisees watched for a supposed violation of the Sabbath. Resolutely Christ cured the man and asked the hypocrites if theywould not drag an ox or ass out of a pit into which it had fallen on the Sabbath. Of course they would do so. Bu~ if an animal could be cared for at the-expense of some labor, why not a man? And the Pharisees "could give Him no answer to these things." The Savior then went into the dining room with His host and the other guests. The Pharisees were jealously pushing forward to secure each one for himself a place of 238 CHRIST IN THE REFECTORY honor. Christ spoke the parable of The Last Seat to rebuke their pride. Then He taught a lesson in charity. The rich Pharisees gloried in their great generosity in pro-viding sumptuous dinners for many people. The guests, however, were. usually well-to-do friends and relatives who~ could pay back in kind. In the parable on Poor Guests, Christ declared that true charity would consist in providing a feast for the poor.who could never issue a return invitation. A reward for such charity would be reserved for the host in the kingdom of heaven. At that, one of the guests exclaimed, "Blessed is he ~vho shall feast in the kingdom of God." The speaker was a Pharisee who assumed as a matter of .right that all Pharisees would have a place at the.heavenly feast. Christ, in the parable of a Great Supper, told the Pharisee that God had- indeed invited them tothe heavenlyb~nquet, but that they had contemptuously refused to come. The poor Jews and Gentiles would now take.their places. (Luk~ 14.) Zacheus, the publican of Jericho, was short of stature, but his hand was large to .grasp exorbitant taxes for the Roman treasury and his own private purse. He knew that his deeds were evil, knew the hatred with which the Jews cursed him. He had heard, however, of one great. Jewish teacher whowas notorious for kindness to the publicans. Full of curiosity to see Jesus of Nazareth, Zacheus hurried from his.office when Christ came to Jericho. Careless of his dignity, the short little man climbed a sycamore tree to see the friend of publicans and sinners. The unexpected happened. Christ stbpped beneath the sycamore, looked up to where Zacheus was perched, and said: '~Zacheus make haste and come down; for I must stay in thy house today." In amazement and haste Zacheus jumped down and welcomed Christ joyfully. BUt the crowd murmured 239 WILLIAM 3". MOORE Saying, "He has gone .to be the guest of a man who is a sinner." It was the old reproach, heard so frequently in the Gospel narrative. Christ was a friend of sinners.-. He ate at table with publicans and sinners. Over and over the same refrain of bitter complaint. BUt Christ went on converting sinners, saving what was lost. To the divine guest Zacheus said: "Behold, Lord, I give one-half of my possessions to ~he poor, and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I restore it fourfold." (Luke 19.)' It.was at a supper in Bethany that the greed of ,Judas became apparent. Simon the Leper (now cured) was host: Laza.rus, raised~ from the dead, was/~ guest near 3esus, ~nd Martha was s~rving. When Mary anointed Christ's feet, the thievish treasurer complained that the valuable oint-ment should have been sold for 300 denarii (about $51). and the proceeds given, to the poor. Christ waved aside the objection and praised the good work of Mary. H6w much of our Lord's teaching was done at meal-" time is well exemplified in the five full chapters which St. ,John devotes to the actions and discourses of Christ at the Last Supper. Ftirthermore, St. ,John does not repeat what the three other evangelists had already ~eported about the institution of the Blessed Eucharist. 3ohn tells instead of Christ's humility in washing the feet of the Apostles; the commandment to love one another; the beau-tiful allegory of the Vine and the Branches; .the.promise of ~he Holy Spirit; the priestly prayer of Christ "that all .may be one" even as the Father and Christ a~e one. (,John,. chapters 13-17.) The central event of the Last Supper is recorded by the Synoptics. "While they were at supper, ,Jesus took bread, and blessed and broke, and gave it to His disciples. and said, 'Take and eat, this is My body.' And taking a cup, He gave thanks and gave it to them, saying, 'All of 240 CHRIST IN THE REFECTORY you drink of this; foi: this is My blo~d of the new.cove-nant, which is being shedfor many unto the forgiveness Of sins'." (Matthew 26.) It was in the apostolic refectory that¯ Christ gave us His own body and blood for our spiritual food. It was there in a supper room that He ordained the first priests. Every church is a supper, room where Christ is offered again under the appearance of bread and wine on the altar table. Every church is a supper ro6m where God feeds His children with the Bread of Angels. It was a glorious Resurrection Day. All heaven rejoiced; but the disciples on the road to Emmaus Were sad. The .traveler who approached and walked with them ¯ gradually raised their ¯spirits until at last ¯their hearts burned within them as they gained a fuller understanding of the ScriptUres. "Stay with us," they pleaded as the stranger would have left them at Emmaus. The stranger agreed. "And it came to pass when He reciined at tame with them, that " He took the bread¯ and blessed and broke and began handihg it to them.~ And their eyes were Opened, andthey. recognized Him." ~ Christ their Risen Lord was with them at the supper table. Back to Jerusalem to the Apostles the two disciples hurried. The Eleven would not believe their report. Then Christ appeared to the Eleven as they were at table. ."See My hands and feet, that it is I Myself," He said. "Feel-me and see; for a spirit'does not have flesh and bones, as you see I have." Still the Apostles disbelieved and marvelled for joy. "Have you anything here to eat?" asked our Lord. They offered Him a piece of broiled fish and a honeycomb. And when He had eaten in their presence, He tSok what remained and gave it to them. (Luke 24.) St. John tells us of the ins.titution of the Sacrament of 241 WILLIAM J. MOORE Penance on this same Resurrection nigh~. To His Apostles Christ solemnly.said: "Receive the Holy Spirit; whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven them; and whose sins you shall retain; they are retained." (2ohn 20.) St. John's epilogue contains one of the most touching accounts of our Lord's considerate goodness. All night the Apostles had been fishing without success. Our Lord appeared, granted them a splendid catch, and prepared for them a hot breakfast of bread and fish on the lake shore. The poor fishermen were cold and weary and hungry after a chili night on the water. BreakfaSt over, orie ofthe most important events in history took place. Christ conferred on Peter the primacy in the Church. To Peter was given the commission, to feed Christ's sheep, to rule and guide them with full power " from God. Christ taught the people wherever they gathered. Since men most frequently assemble to take meals together, Christ frequently taught at meals. When the peopl.e gathered elsewhere, Christ preached elsewhere. St. Mark has 'two passages which must have had their ~ounterparts on scores 6f busy days. Such a large crowd gathered, says the evangelist, in chapter three, that "they could not so much as-take their food." And in chapter.six he says that so many people were coming and going that "they had no leisure even to eat." 242 Differing Current:s in !:he Lil:urgy, Too Gerald Ellard, DIOCESAN priests sometimes make it a matter of jest that, whereas pries.ts of religious institutes ard_ently advocate that worship-reform we call the liturgical movement, they themselves follow .in their chapels and" churches, ' more likely~than not, some variant liturgy and not the simon-pure Roman Rite. Again;they tease a little to the effect that members of religious orders look at the w.hole liturgical movement from an angle determined, by the specific outlook of their own religious group. Thus, the statement is made: "If I havea missionary from such an order, he preaches his kind of a liturgical movement, and anathema to all else. Then, the next year, a missionary from another order comes around, and his liturgical movement is something quite differen!! Why don't you religious who preach retreats and missions get together and fix on a definite program to preach? Before you kno@ it, we p/irish priests may get ahead of you, by organizing on our own, and then convert you to. our parish-type_ liturgi-cal movement in the Roman Rite.". . Behind this badinage and laughter there, is some real perplexity .and concern. It may prove helpful to religious as well.as to diocesan priests to remind ourselves, in Father Reinhold's vigorous phrase, that the Church does not seek to. impose one liturgical strait, jacket. That adjective, "catholic," after all, means "faking in all, taking in .the ~hole," and the Catholic liturgy includes the various gulf-streams of religious observance, as well as the vast stretches of the diocesan priesthood. A roundabout approach may be the shortest road to the subject. "Prior.to the feast of Candlemas the large monastic faro- 243 ~ERALD ELLARD ily at St. Meinrad's, Indiana, engages in the exercises of the annual retreat. In 1942 the retreat for the monks them-selves was being conducted by a- Franciscan friar, that for those in the Major Seminary by a monk from another abbey, while the last, for the Minor Seminary students, had been entrusted to the writer. Our dinner and supper were served in the monastic refectory, but breakfast was served the retreat-masters in the Guest Dining Rooml So it came abo.u~ that we had the pleasure of a short chat each morning as we breakfasted. My recollection of those little inter-ludes over thecoffee-cups is very pleasant, indeed. I .dare say the topic of the actual conduct of the retreats was the only one we avoided bringing into the discussions. We all . realized that in our several chapels we were conducting retreats that differed from one another not a little, although each one of us was endeavoring to herald the message of the one Christ.' While we all proclaimed Him, the monk saw Him after the manner of'the sainted Benedict, the friar as had the seraph on Mount-Alverno, and I somewhat after the manner of. the soldier of Manressa. All three concep-tions of Christ are true--if only partial: the unsearchable riches of Christ's Personality Will never be exhaustively comprehended by any man. More than once, therefore, as this daily contact of ours was broken off, I thought of how we three retreat-masters then and there gave a partial illustration of words of the late Peter Lippert that have stood the test of print since 1912. The passage, as a quotation, is somewhat long, but, I trust, justifiab!e for its interest. In formulating his expression of the ideal of the Jesuit vocation, Father Lip-per. t had sought clarification in comparisons: "For the sons of St. Benedict, of whose spirit all con-templative orders have a share, Christ is the worshipful King and.Lord, whom they serve by means of. their noc- 244 DIFFERING I~U~RENTS'IN THE LITURGY, TOO turnal psalmody, their earnest and solemn 'chan.t, the majesty of tbleir liturgy, their soulful, sacred art, their inspired craftsmanship.- This; tog, far from the bustle and noisy conflict of the world. They resemble the angels of the sanctuary: consecrated to the service of God, they st, and ceaselessly before the Throne of the Lamb, and enact the holy service of the Christian altar of sacrifice. With their praying art and their imperturable monastic peace, they present a vision or a foreshadowing of the Church Trium-phant, and hence above earthly conflict or earthly sorrow. Hence flows that harmony, that Wrought-out smoothness, so to speak, that sense of right proportion in their way of life, which even in the earliest period of the preaching of. the "Anglo-Saxon and Germanic missionaries made such "pro-found impression on~ the barbaric peoples of the forest. "Francis of Assi~si was the seraphic lover of the helpless Child in the st:;ble and of the crucified Saviour. He" was steeped, first o~ all, in the mystery of Bethlehem, a mystery of the most touching infancy and childlikeness. But no less was Francis held by that most frightful self-abasement of Golg01~ba. It was Francis who erected the°first-Christ-mas crib, and then ranged him, self, as an empty-handed mendicant, by .the manger of the divine Beggar-Child. So ¯ also by the Cross of the rejected, the last and the least of all men, he took his stand as a least brother. He considered,. too, the unending multitudes of his spiritual sons as his fellow-sentinels at the posts of the poverty and the humilia-tions of the great Son of God. Hence it is surely not by chance that for centuries precisely the Franciscans are the CuStodians of the Holy Places. Nor is it by chance that to -the Franciscans the hearts of the people have always be~ longed, for thesimple folk understand nothing so well as the mysteries of Bethlehem and Calvary. "Well, then, how is the image of Christ conceived and 245 GERALD ELLARD expressed in the Order of Loyola? In the Jesuit Order tl~e basic concept is of Christ as Founder of God's Kingdom, as conqueror of the whole world of the infidels, as the plan-ning, suffering, fighting Warrior for the honor and will of the Father.''1 In so far as he is a son of Ignatius, then, the 3esuit-strives to see "how the Lord of the whole world chooses persons, and sends them out the whole wor!d over, spreading His sacre~t doctrine: 'My will is to.conquer the whole world of the infidels; whoever will come with Me must work by day and watch by night, so as to share in the~ ultimate victory'." Since every one readily concedes that a Benedictine, a Franciscan, or a Jesuit, will eachconduct a specific type of retreat, I do not think it should be considered strange if various religions orders represent differing currents in the Church's li.turgical life. The modern apostolate of the lit-urgy affords ample scope for the labors of every order, and the religious, along with the pastoral clergy, have all their part in the Opus Dei. Let us enter an abbey church, as I have visited many in Eurgpe and several in this country. We are struck at once by the enormous size, especially, as a rule, by the towering height of the enclosed space. Dominating the whole inte-rior is usually a majestic fresco of Christ looking down' from. the high curve of the apse. Of almost equal promin-ence to the casual visitor are the serried choir-stalls, row on long row, each rising higher than the preceding. In ~ccord with the recommendatibn that the Blessed Sacrament be not reserved" at the altar before which the choir-functions are performed (canon 1268), the high altar does not enthrone the Eucha.rist, but none can fail to sense the very real way 1Translated from P. Lippert, Zur Ps~fcbologie des desuitefiorden (Miinchen: K6s¢l, 1912), pp. 26, 27. 246 DIFFERING CURRENTS IN THE LITURGY, TOO in which the heavenly Christ lends His glorified Presence, so to speak, go the holy place. "Thou, O Christ, art King of glory!" The entire passage of the Te Deum from which this ~jacul.ation is quoted proclaims as with trumpets what We might call the devotional atmosphere of the buiding. Here day by day and night by night the monk works at the work of God. O~ce he has been ordained, the priest-monk's own private~ Mass will be, as a rule, in some distant side-altar chapel. His daily conventual Mass, preceded and followed by one of the Canonical Hours, is ideally always a High Mass, at Which he himself is engaged, in singing either ¯ the Ordinary, or also the Proper as well. Every public Mass for the priest-monk is a sung Mass; every weekday is ¯ in this respect like.Sunday. In another very real sense "the Sunday atmosphere" pervades the abbey church. The calendar of the Romano- 'Monastic Rite, which is the Church's liturgy as given to the monks, minimizes Masses in honor of the saints, to multi-ply those of Sundays and ~:e.riae, on which, outside of Lent, the Mass of the preceding Sunday is repeat.ed. Thus, the "calendar for 1942 provided for a maximum of about 130 ¯ days on which Mass might be offered in honor of the Bles-sed V!rgin, the Angels, or Saints, despite the fact that the saints of the great Benedictine family are legion. Two out of every three' Masses were of the Dominical cycle, with the Saints being commemorated. ~ We enter in turn a Franciscan church. Here the altar" can be proportionately closer to the people, because the choir-stalls are set in a walled-off oratory at the side. .The peoplenever attend the ch0ir-service of the friars. But diocesan priests and regulars of orders founded.after that of St: Francis should .take a very lively interest in that choir-service, since the Roman Brevihry we use is a gift from the Franciscans. There was not, up to the thirteenth century, 247 GERALD ELLARD p a fixed arrangement of the Divine Office, obligatory on all as to details. Nor was it necessary, as long as the Office was performed in choir, that all its parts be found in one and the same volume. But just at the timeof the Poor Little Man of Assisi the papal curia was often abroad on trips, and this exigency of travel was then creating a breviary in which Psalms, Scripture lessons, and biographical lessons ,were all contained in one book. Francis, legislating for friars who were to go everywhere, stipulated in the Rule of 1223: "Let the clerics perform their Office according to the arrangement of the Holy Roman Church," by which he meant this new papal breviary then developing. The upshot, of this was that the breviary, as then 'definitely "fixed" for the Franciscans, was soon adopted by Rome and became that of the entire sphere of the Roman Rite. But it is with. the Mass-book, the Missale Semphico-t~ or~ar~tzro, the Church;s liturgy as given to the' friars, that we are more interested. One will note how the feasts of saints have multiplied, there being in the 1942 calendar about 240 days on which Masses are from the Sanctoral Cycle: mimbilis Det, s ir~ ,ar2cti~ ,tds. The' book is well named "Seraphic," because no less than 89 days provide Masses for the Saints and Blesseds of the Franciscan family. The psychological atmosphere, what we might call the "feel" of the Se.raphic Missal, may perhaps be illustrated by referring to the two great Franciscan sequences which the Church has put into our Roman Missal, the Dies I~ae, known with certainty only as of Franciscan authorship, and the Stabat Mates, which scholars now ascribe to Bona-venture, founder after Francis of Franciscanism. Perhaps, when we enter the Franciscan church, we find the church densely crowded, and the Forty Hours' Exposi-tion in progress. This is a typically Franciscan devotion, as common .today as the Christmas Crib or the Way of the 248 DIFFERING CURRENTS IN THE LITURGY; TOO Cross. Very likely a fiotice near the entrance will direct our attention to the fact that an evening service in honor of S~. Anthony is scheduled for later in the week. This serv-ice, we are told, will consist of the recitation of the rosary, hymn-singing, and "Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. There is nothing specifically .Franciscan about any single feature in that devotional pattern, and the pattern itself is ~epeated in practically every church in the land. True, it is not the the classic Opus Dei of Benedictine surroundings, but it can provide for popular participation in the public worship of the Church and is conducted according to norms approved by her "(Canon 1256). Granting that some of these devotional exercises co01d be~ from the litur-gical point of view, a good deal better,let us also freely grant that they are basically qood. Since there was mention a moment ago of classical Benedictinism, it is gratifying to recall that an American Benedictine translated and published the words of a Euro-pean writer dealing with this very problem of popular devotions: "Today, as in ~he past,.the~e must prevail in this d~partment of liturgical activity a certain largeness of scope and adaptation. We must be ready, to give proper recognition in the lituygy to those elemefits of popular reli-gious exercises in which the devotion of the people is really and truly expressed. And the same can be said of popular devotional hymns.''2 Just as the Gospel' of Frai~ciscan4ove has never been exhausted, so there is still, room in the lit-urgy for yet further Franciscan, and other, devotional additions. " , Ignatius, that would-be, crusader, and actual com-mander of troops, would have a man withdraw for a space, "to abide in all possible privacy; so that he may be free to ~J. A. Jungmann, Liturqical Worship, translated' by "a monk [Rev. Otto Eisen-zimmer] of St. John's Abbey. (New York: Pustet, 1941), p. 123. 249 GERALD ELLARD go daily to Mass and Vespers, without any fear of his acquaintances getting in his,way," and in this privacy study Christ's-plan of salvation against the ever-recurring questions: "What have I done for Christ? What am I doing for Christ? What ought I,do for Christ?" Ignatius, too, would have all influenced by him praise, as very touch-stones of orthodoxy, "chants, Psalms, long prayers in church, the Hours appointed for the Divine ONce, and all Canonical Hours" (Sp(ritual Exercises). "But because the occupations which are assumed for the good of so_uls,'.: he states in his Constitutions, "ore both .important and pressing, and the term of our residence in any place uncer-tain, the members of the Society will not recite the Canon-ical Hours in choir.'" Hence, neither before the altar, nor in an adjacent ora-tory, does one find dhoir-sialls in the liturgical setting of the Jesuit's life. This is not a Jesuit singularity; the same is true for most ~of the clerks regular of post-Reformation institutes. Save that the feasts of his order are celebrated, the Jesuit, like other clerks regular, follows the Roman Rite in all particulars. The liturgical pattern of a Jesuit's nor-mal routine (unless he is assigned to par6chial work) is that he celebrates low Mass, and, as far as he assists at Mass, it 1s a low Mass ordinarily, a High Mass very rarely. Thus these three orders, which we are taking as repre-senting religious p~iests generally, have each their differing modes of carrying out the sacred liturgy of the Catholic Church. Conditioned, then, and to a degree limited, by the liturgical practices of his religious institute,-the monk; the friar, or the clerk regular comes as retreat-master, or missionary,or week-end assistant, into the parish. There he is confronted by the full and majestic program of tl~e liturgical movement in all its manifold phases. In con-junction with the pastoral clergy, each religious will apply 250 DIFFERING CURRENTS IN THE LITURGY, TOO the principle of active lay-participation in the situation as encountered, and with the tools he has and can handle. This should amply.explain to the parish priests them-selves, or recall to interested observers of other religious orders, the reasons for" these somewhat diff.ering concepts of the scope and aims of the liturgical movement. The variation in emphasis is kimply unavoidable, given hiaman limitations. True, the several.interpretations are partial, but each is valid and true hs far as it goes, and each is an integral component in the symphony of praise ascending to God in the O/~u~ Dei. In abbey, convent, chapel, and church, if there is no single liturgical strait jacket, there is still what a tireless scholar of the last century used to ca!l the one, holy, Catholic, and apostolic liturgy. BOOKLETS Father Foley's article on the Catholic Action Cell, in the May, 1943, number of the REVIEW, seems to have stirred considerable interest among many of our readers. These rea~lers (and perhaps many others) should be interested in "The Technique of the Catholic Action Cell Meeting, compiled by the Reverend Stephen Anderl and Sister M. Ruth, F.S.P.A. The compilers drew their material largely from the Priests' Bulletin, published by the Catholic Action Federations of the Archdiocese of Chicago, from articles by Father William Boyd in Orate Fratres, and from Mr. Eugene Geissler's book, The Training of Lay l~eaders. Father Anderl and Sister M. Ruth have dbne a-good job of compiling and offer many practical sug-gestions for organizing a cell and conducting, a meeting. 'The booklet costs 15 cents and can be obtained from St. Rose Convent, LaCrosse, Wisconsin. The Third Order Director is a pamphlet containing practical hints for adminis-tering the Third Order. It should be helpful not only to priest moderators, but also to Brothers and Sisters of various religious communities who are now in charge i of' Third Order groups. The pamphlet covers all practical details briefly and clearly. Price: 15 cents. Office of Publication: Third Order of St. Francis in the U. S., 3200 Mera'mec St., St. l-ouis, Mo. 251 'Advice I:o a New Superior By a oSpiritual Director, IN MY CAPACITY of spiritual director, I have been asked several times for advice by newly appointed reli-gious superiors. I have always considered these requests very seriously beforeGod; and the advice given, simple though it was, appears to have been helpful to the superiors who asked it. The points they seem to have appreciated most are the following. Humilitg , Ecclesiasticus tell~ us: "The greater thou art, the more humble tfiyselfin all things" (3:30). In another 151ace (32:1), the same sacred writer admonishes us: "Have tl-iey . made thee ruler? be not lifted up: be among them as one of them." Similar advice our Lord gave to His disciples: "You know that .those who are regarded as rulers among the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great men exercise authority over them. But it is not so among you. On the . contrary, whoever wishesto become great shall be your servant; and whoever wishes to be first among you shall be the slave of all; for the Son of Man also has not come to be served but to serve, and. to give .his life as a ransom for many" (Mark 10:42-45). Behold your model, who was in the midst of His disciples as "one who serves" (Luke 22:27) ; there is no better model than Jesus. Justice and Kindness "And even as you wish mento do to .you, so also do you to them" '(Luke 6:31). There is your rule of action according to the maxim of Christ. Treat your subjects now as you wanted to be treated by your superior when 252 ADVICE TO A NEW SUPERIOR 3iou were a subject. Be a father (or mother) to them. Let your love and good .will be equal towards all; beware of favoritism, which is a source oof discord in a community. Be kind to the sick, have regard for the aged,.be considerate with the young. B~ sincere with your. subjects, "knowing that their Lord who is als0 your Lord is in heaven, and that with him there is no respect of persons" (Ephesians 6:9). Never betray their confidence, so that they may always trust you; for confidence once lost will seldom be fully .regained. If you should make a mistake or unwittingly ¯ wrong .a subject, do not hesitate to admit your mistake and to undo the wrong, for no one is infallible. Thus you.will give your subjects an example of humility and of justice, and it will increase their esteem for you and their confidence in you. Provide generou_sly for all their needs; never be niggardly with them on the plea of poverty. Try to produce a cheerful spirit in your community especially in time of recreation. This is the time for reli-gious to relax after the strain of the day's work; it is not to be a wake, Don't do all the talking yourself, and let not your presence be a damper on your subjects' joy. "Be among them as one of them." Let all join in to make the recreation religiously pleasant. The result will be. a greater spirit.of recollection during the time of silence. Prudence Avoid extremes in all things. Virtue takes a middle course. Be slow to judge and slower to condemn; hear both sides with equal patience and charity. Make no important decision without mature deliberation. Lean not too much on your own Wisdom; take counsel with a competent, unbiased, trustworthy and experienced person. If neces-sary, get the approval of your higher superior. But-- what is more important still--have recourse .to the Holy 253 ¯ A SPIRITUAL DIRECTOR Ghost, the Spirit, of Truth, that He may enlighten you to choose what is best. Firmness B~ firm, but with a firmness always tempered with' charity, prudence, and mercy; a firmness free from harsh-ness and severity. Be meek, but with a.meekness that is not weakness. Rule ~.tour communit!t b~t your example rather than. b~/~/our words. "Even if a person is caught doing .something wrong, you who are .spiritual instruct such a one in a spirit of meekness, considering thyself, lest thoualso be.tempted" (Galatians 6: 1). DO not reproach your sub-jects or nag them, but charitably call their attention to .what ought to be corrected. Never act on the .spur of the moinent, especially under the influence of any passion, lest you commit a graver fault than the one you are trying to correct; but go first to consider the matter before Jesus in the Blessesd Sacrament. Pra~/er " Cultivate a spirit of prayer. Often betake yourself to the Tabernacle, and there lay your problems before Jesus, saying to Him in the words of the Psalmist (69:1), "O God, come to my assistance; O Lord, make haste to. help me." Keep in touch with God at all times and hnder all circumstances in a spirit of Faith. And in your prayer, examine yourself from time to time on the various bits of advice given here. 254. S :udies During !:he Novifia :e Adam C. Ellis, S.J STANDARDS for the.teaching and other professions are high in the United States, and demand long years of careful preparation, It is not' surprising then to find religidus superigrs eager to have their subjects continue their studies as soon as possible after entering religion. Hence arises the practical .question: what about studies during the novitiatd? We shall, try to learn the mind of the Church through a brief study of her legislation on thissub, ject. Legislation of the Church I. On June 28, 1901, the Sacred Congregation of Bishops and Regulars issued a set of regulations called Normae for the government of religious institutes with simple vows. Article 73 of these regulations forbade all studies during the first year of novitiate in all cases, that is, whether one or two years of novitiate were had. Article 74 allowed a moderate amount, of study during the second year for those institutes which had two years .of novitiate. Nothing was prescribed regarding the nature of these studies. II. In 1908 Pope Pius X reorganized the Roman Curia and divided the Congregation of Bishops and Regulars into two new Congregation's, the second of which was called the Sacred Congregation of Religious and was given complete and exclusive jurisdiction over all re.ligious, both of orders and of congregations. On August 27, 1910, this new Congregation, with the explicit approbation of Pope Pius X, issued ~an instruc- 255 .~DAM C. ,ELLIS tion,. Ad Exploraf~durn Anirnum, regarding studies during the novitiate in all order~ and congregations of men. - In a preamble the Instruction first stated that the pur~ pose of the novitiate is to test the mind of the novice and gradually to imbue it with the spirit of religious perfec-tion by means of various spiritual exercises. Then a com-mon .experience was cited: namely, ~the fact that the con-stant- practice of pious exercises, even though they be varied, tends to 'tire the mind, especially in.the case of young people, and, when exercised cofitinually in the course of the day, is apt to render the will less attentive to them. Finally the advantages of a moderate amount of study during the n6vitiate were called to mind: for the novic,es, by helping them to retain what they havb already learned; for superiors, bygiving them some .idea of the talents, aptitude, and diligence of the novices. In order that this moderate ~amount of study might safeguard the novices from the strain.ot~ the constant prac-tice of spiritual exercises, and in. order to obtain the bene-fits'just mentioned, the Instruction laid down the fol. lowing regulations which were made obligatory for all: 1) Novices should devote themselv~es to private ¯ study one hour each day, except Sundays andfeast days. 2) The master of novices, or his assistant, or one of the professors of humanities, should supervise these studies. This same person might .give instruction to the assembled novices for one hour, three times a week at most. over and above the daily hour of private study. 3) While these instructions given in common .were not to be considered as regular classes "(veri norninis schola censeri nequeat), still they should not be a mere exercise in mortification. Hence the novices should apply themselves seriously so as to derive real profit from them. Studies taken up should correspond to the nature of the 256 STUDIES DURING THE NOVITIATE order or congregation. The vernacular, Latin and G~:eek, were recommended, either by way of repetition of what the novices had already learnt, especially in the matter of grammar, or by way of reading selections from the works of the Fathers and ancient ecclesiastical writers outstand-ing for their literary style. Ambrose, 'jerome, Lactantius, ,John Chrysostom, and Eusebius, as.well as the Greek texts of.St. Luke's Gospel and of the Acts of the Apostles, were ¯ cited as examples of such readings. Written and oral exercises were also recommended. 4) The instructor presiding ox;er these studies should give a written report on the diligence and progress of ea.ch novice to the superior general or provincial before the novices were admitted to the profession of vows. III. The Code of Canon Law, which was promul-gated on Pentecost Sunday, May 27, 1917, and which began to bind one year later, Pentecost Sunday, May 19, 1918, has this brief statement doncerning studies in-the novitiate: "During the year of novitiate the novices . . . are not to devote themselves (dedita opera vacate) to the formal study of letters, scienc.es, or arts',' (canon 565, § 3). The Code, th.erefore, does not retain the obligations of either the Norrnae or the Instruction. However, these documents, particularly the InstrUction (which is cited as one of the sources of the canon), may be Used in inter-preting the present legislation. In the light of this former legislation, we may say that it is within the spirit of the present law to allow a moderate amount of time for study in the novitiate, provided such study does not interfere with the principal purpose of ~he novitiate which is "to form the novice in the mould o~ the religious life by prayer, meditation, the study of the rules and constitu-tions, instruction regarding the vows and the virtues, exercises suitable to the acquiring of virtue and the 257 ADAM C. ELLIS uprooting Of vice, as well-as to regulating the moverhents ofthe soul (canon 565, § 1)." IV. Pope Pius XI sent an Apostolic Letter, Unigeni-tus De~ Filius, dated March 19, 1924, to all supe.riors gen-eral of orders and congregations of religious men, regard-ing the selection and training of subjects. Two para-graphs of this letter are pertinent to our subject. The first pertinent paragraph contains the studies to be required of candidates for admission to the novitiate of a.clerical institute. It refids as follows: "You must see to it, therefore, that after the young candidates for the reli-gious life have been seasonably and prudently selected, they receive, along with such training in piet~r as is suited to their age, instruction in secondary studies which ,are usually given in schools and colleges; sb that they do not enter the novitiate until they have ~ompleted the curricu-lum of the so called 'humanities,' unless in individual cases rather grave reasons mal~e it advisable to provide other-wise." For the United States this is interpreted as meaning the completion of High SchOol studies, including Latin. .For the duration of the war, owing to the present draft laws, superiors would be justified in admitting candidates. ~to the novitiate who have not ~ompleted their High School studies. Such studies, however, should be completed after the novitiate, before the study of philosophy is begun. This is prescribed in an Instruction of the Sacred Congregation. of Religious, dated .December 1, 1931, regarding the training and testing of religious candidates for the priesthood. The second paragraph of the Pope's letter pertinent to the subject under discussion insists on devoting the time of the novitiate to the exclusive spiritual training of the novices. He says: "Putting-aside all worldly amusements and studies 6f all branches whatsoever, let the novices 258 STUDIES. DURING THE NOVITIATE devote themselves, under the wise direction of their mas-ter, to the exercises of the interior life, .and to the acquire- .ment of virtue, especially of those.virtues which are closely connected with the vows of religion, that is, poverty, obedience and chastity~" V. Finally we have an Instruction of the Sacred Con-gregation of Religious, dated November 25, 1929, regarding the teaching of Christian Doctrine to all mem-bets bf lay insti.tutes of men-and women. The pa~'t referring to novices reads as follows: "During the time of probation and novitiate the young men and women shall reviewtheir Christian Doctrine and learn it more thor-oughly, so that each one shall not only know it by heart, but also be able.to explaifi it correctly; nor shall they be admitted to take the vows without a sufficient knowledge thereof, and a previous examination." Norms For Present Practice Taking into consideration all the documents qtmted above, we may formulate the principles regarding studies during the novitiateas .follows: Christian Doctrine must be studied, by all novices of lay institutes for the purpose of reviewing what they already know as well as of acquiring a deeper kov~ledge of their holy religion. In order to attain this end, it is very desirable that formal classes .in which the Christian Doc-trine is explained by a capable teacher be held once or twice a week. The teacher may be either a priest or an older, experiencedreligious. No other studies are .of obligation in the novitiate. How.ever, it is not contrary to the mind of the Church to devote a moderate amount of time to such studies, pri-vately or in class. In fact, this may be positively encour-aged, provided the purpose of these studies be kept in view and all harmful effects be eliminated. 259 ADAMC. ELLIS The purpose of these studies is to benefit the novices by helping them to retain the knov~ledge they have. already acquired, as well as by providing them with some neces-sary relaxation from the strain of multiple religiousexer., _cises. A secondary consideration is the information made available to superiors regarding the talents and diligence of the novices. Such studies must not be made a major item in the daily order of the novitiate; nor may they be allowed to become a source of distraction or detriment to the .spii:- itual life of the novice. Hence it seems obvious that no formal courses of instruction may be allowed whose sole purpose is to impart knowledge With a view to credits. Some Practical Suggestions Such are the principles to be followed in making plans' for studies inthe novitiate. .,in the application of these princil~les, superiors may find the following suggestions helpful: 1) The study of the English language is generally useful. In this connection, some few classes at least in spelling may be necessary, since this subject has become a lost art for many of our young.people. 2) For clerical institutes, _as well as for lay institutes in which the Divine Office or the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin is recited in Latin, a moderate study of that lan-guage is recommended. Its.purpose should be to ground the novices,in the essentials of grammar and simple corn- ,position. 3) The fundamentals of Bible-and Church History may be given either separately, or in conjunction with the study of Christian Doctrine. 4) Tr,aining in Gregorian Chant is desirable for all 260 STUDIES DURING THE NOVITIATE novices. Two half-hour periods per week would not. seem too much for this important subject. .5) Some practice in penmanship for those whose writing is hardly legible is to be encouraged. 6) As to foreign l'anguages, it is certainly desirable that the. novices should not forget what they have already learned; and each novice should be encouraged to keep up a.ny one of these languages to which he has already devoted one or more years of study. This may be d6ne by private reading or, if. the numbers warrant it, by some classesheld during the summer months. It does riot seem to be in keeping with the mind of the Church for a novice to begin the study of a .modern language. 7) Ten to fifteen .miiautes of setting up exercises daily will prove helpful to all novices, provided these exercises are given for reasons of health, and not to impart the science, of ph~csical education. 8) Courses in p~dagogy and education, as well as in the sciences, mathematics, and profane history, are out of place in the. novitiate. 9) As to the fine arts, they have no place in the novi-tiate curriculum. Specially gifted novices who hive had considerable .previous training might be allowed a mod-erate amount of practice in music or drawing during the second year of novitiate. Amount ot: Time to be Det~oted to Study Exclusive of the classes in Christian Doctrine and Plain Chant, not more than five hours a. week should be devoted to private study, and not more than three hours a week to class work. This is the norm laid down by the Instruction of the Sacred Congregation of Religious and 'approved by-Plus X. In place of three periods of sixty minutes each, it may be found more convenient to have 261 ADAM C~. ELLIS four class periods per week of forty-five minutes eaeh. ~Atthe most, relatively little time m.ay be given to study during the novitiate, and it is evident that only one or the other subjec~ suggested above can be satisfactorily treated. I~: is much better to concentrate on one or two subjects than to try to .get a smattering of four or five in the time.allotted. Non multa sed multum applies here if anywhere: Conclusion Religious superiors should ever keep in mind that the sole purpose of the novitiate is the religious training of th~ novices. Let them ponder the words of Pope Plus XI in the "letter of March 19, 1924: "Let "the novices never for-get that they will be for the rest of their lives such as they were in the novitiate, and that ordinarily it is most useless to hope that a novitiate once made with little o~ no fruit, can be supplied later on by a renewal of the spirit of the novitiate." It is, therefore, a very shortsighted policy, and one detrimental to the best interests of the religious institute as a whole, to. attempt to introduce into the novi-tiate any kind of formal courses of studies with a view to professional standing in later life. As we have seen, the reasons for allowing any study at all in the novitiate are to. help the novices retain, the knowledge they have already acquired, and to add a certain amount of pleasant variety-to the regular 'orde~ of spiritual.duties and exercises, thus helping them to avoid any overstraining of the" nervous system which may result in physicalor rnentaI exhaustion, and may manifest itself in scruples or melancholia. Let superiors be. conv.inced that after a fervent novitiate the young religious will devote themselveswholeheartedly to their studies, and in a short time make up for any apparent loss dt~e to a lack of formal study during the novitiate. 262 Scruples versus Chas :it:y Gerald Kelly, S.J. IN THE MAY, 1942, number of this REVIEW (I, p. 187) the readers were introduced to Scrupulosus, a typical victim of that gnawing and ~ unfounded fear of sin known as scruples. In the article referred to it was pointed out that a supreme difficulty for Scrupulosus is to acquire the "human way of acting": he is unable to-resign himself to the fact that human problems cannot be solved with the exactness of mathematical problems. Two examples of his diffi-culty-- confession and the Eucharistic fast--were described in the former article; the present article deals with a third. " Perhaps no other sphere of human life entails as much mental torture for Scrupulosus as does the practice of chastity. This is hardly surprising, because the practice of chastity demands a special blending of idealism an~t common sense. Though often referred to ¯ as "the angelic virtue," chastity is essentially a human virtue and it must be practised in a human way. Before illustrating Scrupulosus' problem with chastity, it may be well to call attention to certain cases which" very likely are not real scrupulosity. I refer to those casesin which, though many symptoms of scrupulosity are present, the basic difficulty is rather ignorance than fear. For instance, there are some good people who suffer from an undue axiety regarding chastity because they really do not know what chastity is. At some time in their lives they got the notion that ¯ chastity includes just about everything pertaining to the discipline of the senses and the affections; and because of this erroneous widening of the scope of. chastity they are unnecessarily fearful of.violating the virtue. T'his type of worry can be dispelled by the simple process of obtaining correct information as to the meaning.of chastity. Other good people know, at least in a general way, the scopeof chastity, but do not know the difference between temptation and sin in this matter. Such people are ignorant of 'the simple principle that u2hat is not udlful cannot be sinful. They are apt to brand as sinful, imagi'nations and feelings that are no more wilful than a shudder or the blink of an eyelash. They set themselves to do the impossible, that is, to exclude even spontaneous sense impulses; and when they 263 GERALD KELLY 'have failed to do this, the~" think they have sinned. The obvious result is discouragement, "worry, fear: the. obvious remedy is instruc-- tion. Our genuine.Scrupulosus knows the meaning of chastity and of sin; in fact, he may have even a superior degree of theoretical knowl-edge. But be is afraid to apply it practically to himself. F~ar enslaves him and paralyzes his judgment. He does not trust himself; he can-not or will not, put his confidence in God. In the previous article about Scrupulosus we contrasted his con-duct with that of Humanus, who was considered as typical of the ordinary sincere human being. Perhaps it may help to continue this contrast Wi~h re~ard to some of the normal problems of chastity. Take the question of "bad thoughts." Both Humanus and Scrupulos.us are subject to them, and each has characteristic reactions to them. Humanus knows, of course, that disturbing imaginations are apt to come unbidden into. the mind and that they are often accom-panied by tempting feelings and impulses. Nevertheless, though not impruden~t, he is not afraid of them nor perpetually on, the looko.ut for them. When they do pass through his mind, he ignores them. Even when they persist and grow strong, he is usually content with the quiet judgment, "I don.'t want these things," a'short aspiration for grace, and a sincere, calm. attempt to think of other things. Occa- .sionally he may find it advisable to read a book to distract t-fimself. Now and then he even has dotibts about his guilt; but these doubts are not a. source of worry for him. He knows this is a human prob-lem, and he deals with it the human way. Unlike Humanus, Scrupulosus is afraid of bad thgughts, o When he hasn't any, he is afraid that he will have them; and this makes him more susceptible to them. And when they do come, his fear .that he will give in to them incites him to engage them immediately in an interior wrestling match instead of resorting to the much more salu-tary. method of ignoring them. ~t isa wrestling match that seldom results in a complete victory for Scrupulosus. " His common sense tries to draw him away from ¯ the combat with the quiet, cheery message: "Dofi't bother, about these things. If you let them alone they won't hurt you. Rem(mber it's not :your fault they're here. Involuntary things are. never sinful." But the voice of his fear, louder hnd sharper than that of common sense, goads him on. "That's just the point," argues fear. "'Are they SCRUPLES VERSUS CHASTITY involuntary? They're pleasant, aren't they? Maybe you do want them! Maybe you did something that brought them on! Maybe. they're the result of your other ~ins! And even if you don't want them now, maybe you will want them. You'd better act fast. You'd better pitch them out right now, or you'll be gu'ilty of mortal sin." ¯ Blinded by fear, Scrupulosus ignores the voice of cofnmon sense. He tries to shake the thoughts out of lqis head; he clenches his fists; he prays desperately. He keeps his nerves at bowstring tautness, so that fear can play his haunting challenge on them~ And when the temptation is over--for a while---he looks back on it with the eyes of fear. He dare not decide that he didn't sin; yet he's not sure that he did. Then he's not sure that he isn't sure; and in the end he suc-cumbs not to a judgment, but tO a despairing conviction dictated by fear: "I guess-I must have sinned!" The foregoing are more or less typical reactions to involu6tary and unforeseen thoughts .and feelings. Another problem concerns " oluntary~thoughts and actions that are good' in themselves, but which are quite likely to be accompanied by temptations against chastity. There are many such thoughts and actions: for example, the study of the Sixth Commandment, the study of physiology, nor-mal social dealings with certain attractive persons, the care of the sick, the care of one's own body, reading that contains suggestive descriptions, and so forth. Many people know from experience that such things as ,these are apt to excite impulses and feelings that would be unchaste if deliberately indulged in. Hence arises the problem: must all such thoughts and actions be avoided? For determining whether any deliberateaction or-line of thought that is likely to result in physical disturbances andtemptatdns against chastity is permissible, the following set of questions is simple, yet scientifically sound: (1) Is the action itself impure? If it is~ it is wrong; if it is not, the remaining questions are applicable. (2) Is my motioe impure, that is, am I seekifig to arouse passion or trying to lead on to an impure action? (3) Have I a r~asonable assurance of preseroing self-control, if I should be tempted? (4) Have I a relatio.ely su~cient reason for this particular action or line of thought --in other words, is the good to be accomplished of sufficient value to justify my tolerating the physic~al reactions and te, mptation? For example, consider the case of. one who needs iristruction con-cerning chastity. It may be that the instruction itself, at least in the 265 GERALD KELLY .beginning, will be a source of disquiet to him. Foreseeing this diffi-culty, he can satisfy the demands of conscience by applying the four questions to his problem. The application might run somewhat as follows: (1) The action? Certainly the study of chastity is/not wrong in itself, other-wise not even priests could study or give information. ~2) The motioe? . In this case the purpose is to obtain useful, even necessary information, and the eventual, peace of mind that comes with it. "The evil effects adcompanying.the study are merely tolerated. (3) controI? This is is a personal problem; yet the normal good person who is not accus.tomed to sin against chastity and who is willing to ¢ta'ke the ordinary means of safeguarding his will against temptation usual!y has a reasonable assurance on this point. (4) SuOicient -Reason? Such reasons are relati~re, depending on the degree of the. disturbance and the force of ~he temptation. In this case, since the information is really useful, even necessary, it constitutes a sufficient reason for tolerating even strong physical reactions and ~temptations. The first of the questions would seldom pr.esent serious difficulty to anyone who is well-instructed as to the meaning of chastity, though, of'course, it is the great stumbllng-block for the ignorant. But it is well to note that the other three questions can rarely be answered with perfect exactness. They carry us definitely into the human sphere; they involve delicate subjective elements and the weighing of .rather intangible pros and cons. Most people have to be content with answering" these according to a "rough estimate." Humanus doesn't mind "rough estimates." He makes them often in all spheres Of life. Why should he demand more in the matter of chastity? Suppose," for instance, that his work calls for.the .reading of a book that he kfiows will be a source of some disturbance to him. His motive? Well, he knows he might deceive himself; yet he is not conscious of any impure motive or self-deception now, and he does have a rather obvious good purpose. Hence he coficludes that his motive is good. His self-control? .Yes, he has occasionally lost self' cofltrol in temptation, but it was only occasional, and he now h~s whatappears to be a prudent confidence that he can control himself; so hedoesn't-worry about that point. Does the good outweigh the evil? Humanus knows that he cannot put the good' effects of his action on one side of a scale and the evil effects on the other; but he also knows that the reading is necessary, or at least definitely useful. 266 SCRUPLES VERSUS CHASTITY for his work, and his good sense tells him that this outweighs merely unintentional physical reactions and.temptations. 'Life is seldom all white; a bit of black must often be tolerated. Scrupulosus detests "rough estimates." Each of the last three questions affords his fear a veritable field day. "How do you know you have a good motive? Lots of people act from hidden impure motives. You yourself fiave had evil motives before. You're just trying to cover, up your guilt so that you can enjoy yourself . . .'. "As for self-col~trol, .haven't you 10st it before? Even if your motive were good now, how could you know you wouldn't weaken? This temptation may be especially strong. Remember what the Scrip-ture says about the man who thinketh himself to stand. You're putting yourself in th'e proximate occasion of sin right now; and that means you're already sinning . "Good and evil! How can you balance, good and evil? A little bit'of evil outweighs a vast amount of good. Furthermore, how do you know this reading is useful or necessary? You don't really need it. You could get along without it. It's easy to deceive yourself into thinking things are necessary .or useful when pleasure is connected verb them. That's what" you're doing now--decei'~ing yourself. Then you'll go. to confession and deceive your confessor." But remem- ¯ bet: ~ou can't dece[oe God!" The second struggle ends in the same manner as the first--with Scrupu.losus a beaten man. If he does the things he has a perfect right to do, his fear continues to plague him, especially with the taunt that he is acting "against his conscience"; if he doe~ not do these things, he is deprived of many useful, even necessary benefits of' normal human living. And even then h~ is not at peace. The result of these interior conflicts is often a profdund ~tiscour-agement. Scrupulosus may begin to look upon chastity as something impossible for him, and this leads to the very ~eal danger that he will cease to care whether he practises it. His scruples, unlike a truly delicate conscience, become the worst enemy to his chastity. One remedy for this condition is to relax. If Scrupulosus can-not climb the fence, perhaps he can duck under it. And how can' he relax? By trying, to see the real absurdity of his frantic efforts to be absolutely certain of things; by living a normal life, despite the pain of fear; by trusting himself more; and by trusting and loving God. 267 Beating t:he Air in Prayer [EDITORS' NOTE: During the course of the discussion on spiritu.al direction, a priest who is. interested in the subject of "direction concerning prayer" sent us a long letter on the subject. We were unable to print the letter at that time. We are publishing it now under the title, Bea.ting the Air in Prat.ler.] THE NEED of spiritual direction presupposes the need of progress in the interior life, and one of th~ common gages of such pro-gress is prayer. Father Leen remarks: "It is a sad thing that of all those who start' out with such confidence and such good. will on the supernatural life, so few attain to any marked degree of spiritua, l-ity . Resistance to grace is the reason of the absence of gkowth in the spiritual life. Yet it would be hard to say that resistance,to grace is in the majority of cases deliberate. It is quite possible that it may proceed from want of spiritual enlightenment and that great numbers of failures are to be attributed not to bad will but to imperfect under-standing'. One who has some expekience in dealing with souls°. cannot fail to remark that very many good and promising beginnings end in disappointment and discouragement" (Prooress Through Mental Pra~er, pp. 13, 14). One is forced to concur With that judgment. The conviction grows with repeated experience that an understanding of progress in prayer is not as widespread as it sh6uld be. For instance is it not an implicit denial of anything like progress in prayer to expect that older religious" will pray in exactly the same way and according to the same ~method as novices? Yet in some plates the same matter for prayer is read to all, and, worse' still, it 'is read aloud during the very time of prayer, thus making it impossible for those who should be practiced in mental prayer to give to any one thing the prolonged attention of soul that should be characteristic of progressing prayer. One obstacle to progress in prayer is the fear that some s~uls entertain 'of progressing from strict meditation to the simpler forms of prayer, lest they be guilty of the heresy which they have heard called Quietism. A director who suggests a change is apt to be considered an innovator or anti-traditionalist. Yet sometimes a change is neces-sary. We are often fold, or we read, that we must be patient with aridity in prayer, that all God wants is the effort. It is true that He 268 ~EATING THE AIR IN PRAYER does want the effort; but is this all He wants? Do we not often put a great deal of energy and effort into merely "beating the air"? And as for the aridity, patience is nece.ssary, but patience is not a satisfac-tory solution to the problem if the' aridity comes simply from the fact that the form of prayer one has been using has accomplished its purpose and has nowbecome sterile. It is too hard to keep patient in such circumstances, too hard to keep exerting effort, and it happeng too often that souls give up all earnest me~atal prayer and simply "last out" the time 6f prayer in an uninterested and inacti;ce manner. It seems that some are ignorant of the need of progress in prayer because they do not know that even ordinary mental prayer has many forms and that it admits of progress from one form to the other. Those who do not know of these forms think that any mention of progress in prayer in~dicates a tendency toward "mysticism" and is therefore to be suspected. To these people, "relish" in prayer means merely sentimentality, feeling, or emotion; "effort" is the 0nly thing that counts. They mistrust anything that appears to go beyond the low foothills of out-and-out reasoned prayeL They consider that any prayer which does not result in a definite and concrete resolution with regard to some particular virtue or. vice is a fruitless prayer. Yet it is a princip!e of spiritual theology that progress in prayer should move away from sheer reasoning in the direction of simplicity. A second cause of failure to make progressin prayer is unwilling-ness to make the sacrifices necessary to persevere in recollection. Some use their work for the salvation and perfection of their neighbor as ari e~cu~e for riot wogking for their own perfection. This is~ absurd, because the tirst'purpose of any religious institute is the perfection of its own members. Utter absorption in working for others is accom-panied by a dissipation of mind and' energy that makes prayer unnec-essarily burdensome. It takes the interest from interior living which is our greatest need at the present time. Everyone who has tried to preserve recollection ifi the midst of intense external activity knows,, that it is diffictilt; but the difficulty is hardly an honest justification for neglect. Increasing self-abnegation is an indispensabl.e condition for progre.ss in prayer. Putting aside all rationalizing, most religious who do not try to make progress in prayer would have td admit that the real reason is that they are afraid of the self-abnegation involved. 269 Reviews. THE EXEMPTION OF: RELIGIOUS IN CHURCH LAW. By the Reverend Joseph D. O'Brien, S.J., S.T.D., J.C.D. Pp. xvil -t- 307. The Bruce Publ[shlncj Company, Milwaukee, 1943. $3.7S. Law, e~cleslastical as well as civil, is a living, thrivin~ organism, operating over an extensi,ce fi~ld of human~activity. While deriving its very vitality from" roots descending into God's own law, it must, in its daily operation, be adaptable to the oft-changing situations found among men. The flexibility of the ecclesiastical law's a1~li-cation "is made manifest by the frequent decisions, instructions and interpre~tations issued by the Holy .See, ever ready to meet, when possible, any new .situation that may affect the welfare of any class of her children. The periodic publication of these new prescription~ of the l'aw calls for a'corresponding revision of the Commentaries on the Code of Canon ~Law so that these new aspects of the law may receive appropriate consideration. One of the latest of such commen-taries is The Exemption or:. Religious in Church Law, the publica-tion of which marks the firs~ complete treatise on this subject writ-ten in English. ' Four grand divisions, further divi~ied and subdivided, form the complex pattern of Father O'B~ien's scholarly volume." Part I clears the ground° for an intelligent understanding of many of the questions'to be discussed in subsequent por.tions of the work by presenting the genuine meaning of many terms used without canoh-ical discrimination. Such words as "nun" and "order" are explained according to Canon 488. Popular usage often.tends to dull the fine canonical precision of such expressions. Our attention is next focussed on the juridical nature of exemption. The law of exemp-tion 6r immunity from the jurisdiction of the local Ordinary is expressed in Canon 61~: "Regulars, both men and women, in-cluding novices, except those nuns who are not subject to Regular superiors,, are exempt, together with their houses and churches, from the jurisdiction of the local Ordinary, except, in the cases pro-vided for-by la{v." Generally speaking, all the faithful residing within the diocesan limits are subject to ~he. spiritual rule of the local Bishop. The Sovereign Pontiff, however, within whose jurisdiction lies the Universal Church and each member thereof, has 270 BOOK REVIEWS seen fit to withdraw certain religious in.~titutes from the rule of the local Bishop and reserve their government to himself. Such is the meaning of exemption. Needless to say, the Holy See exercises this government of Regulars through the medium of their own supe- "riors. ¯ : A thorough analysis of the" jurisdiction exercised, over exempt religious and a further amplification of the notion of jurisdiction occupies the second part of this volume. Part III, easily the most 'important. section, enters into a detailed study of all the forms of religious activity exercised under the rule of the religious superior and independently of the local Ordinary. These details are handled with painstaking thoroughness over a space of 203.pages. Fol- !owing the classification of persons, plac.es and things, no aspect of religious activity is neglected. Part IV, "The Limitations. of Exemption," explains the juridical norm regulating the restrictions placed on this privilege by the Code .and supplies an enumeration of the cases expressed in the general law of the Code. In these excep-tional cases, the local Ordinary exercises jurisdiction over exempt as well as non-exempt persons. Human nature being what it is, Regular exemption did not opera/re ove~ a course of centuries without its vicissitudes. The occa-sional failure of Bishops and Regular prelates to recognize and to respect the rights of one anbther has caused at. times the straining of. relations if not regrettable conflicts between them. By her wi~e leg-islation, the Church has supplied an adequate preventive for many misunderstandings. A sound knowledge and a faithful ~ observance of the law of the Church will provide a solution to any problem that may arise among her children and will result in that apostolic harmony between Diocesan and Religious clergy that brought praise from the Fathers of the Third Plenary Council in Baltimore. For his very objective analysis~ of this point, Fr. O'Brien me.rits our commendation. ¯ The Exemption of Religious in Church Law is primarily a sci-entific commentary on 615 and related canons. The abundant cross-references presume a degree of familiarity with the structure and gbneral content of the Code of.Canon Law. It is to be kept in mind, however, that the Code is an integrated and highly system-atized body of laws, many of which are intimately .correlated No part or section of it may be studied properly without frequent 271 BOOK REVIEW~ ¯ references to other canons or sections of the Code. The complexity " of the question of exemption explains the frequent 'repetition by the author of fundamental notions--a repetition which serves to main-tain precision of tho.ught throughout the'entire volume. This study of the exerhption of Regulars is the fruit of long and patient investigation, as the ample bibliography and the countless citations testify. Roman documents, the great classics of Canon Law, and many modern commentarie~ bear eloquent witness to the author's scho!arship~ Pre-Code legislation on the subject of exemp-. tion is examined in order to point out the changes warranted by the varying circumstances over the course of .years. Differing opinions are carefully sifted and followed by a statement of the validity and 'practicability o~ the conclfisions reached. The foregoing sketchy estimate of Fr. O'Brien's treatise should not lead one to conclude that only the trained canonist will fully appreciate his efforts. All priests engaged in the directiofi-of reli-gious will find within the volume an answer to many of the ques~ tions periodically submitted by their charges. The fact, too, that a satisfying exposition of the general law of religious precedes the explanation of many points of exem15tion should extend the field of' interest in this work. A complete general index accompamed by an index of all the canons of the Code referred to will direct us to the different subjects that engage our interest or form the basis of'a problem calling for solution. Finally,' the thoroughness of the work, evident from the'vastness of the field covered and the num-berless questions discussed, cannot be too highly praised. Among the many excellent canonical treatises published during recent years, The Exemption of Religi~ous in Church Law merits indeed a place of distinction.--J. E. RISK, S.J. ON THE PRIESTHOOD. By. Saint John Chrysostom. Translated by the Reverend Patrick Boyle, C:.M. Pp. xl -1- 14S. The Newman Book Shop, WToesot mofintesnte rC, Mat~hIo., l1i9c4s: ]k. n$o1.w2S o. f their valiant predecessors. in tho~ Faith by hearsay rather than from having made contact with great . Christian minds'across the centuries. A thrill would b~ in store for th(m were they.to take in hand a book such as this and discbver for themselves how modern, in their timelessness, ar~ the doctrines and precepts they have inherited. 272 BOOK REVIEW$ St. John Chrysostom, an his.treatise On the Priesthood,.offers his friend Basil pertinent counsel regarding his duties and privileges as priest and bishop. Special attention is given to the greatness of the priestly vocation, the essential rules for Christian eloquence, and the priest's exterior ministry. The prospective reader need have no fear of being lost in an unfamiliar world. St. John ever aimed at bringing revealed truths to the understanding of the people in general, and his undying fame as popular preacher is proof that he succeeded. Cardinal Newman, as -'quoted in the introduction to this edition, has ~he folio.wing to say . of Chrysostom: ". He writes as one who was ever looking out with sharp but kind eyes upon the world of men and their history, and hence .he always has something to produce about~ them, new or old, to the purpose of his argument, whether from books or from the experience of life. Head and heart were full to overi~owing with a stream of mingled 'wine and milk,', of rich vigorous thought and affectionate feeling. This is why his manner of writing is so rare andspecial. " " First written more than fifteen centuries ago, On The Priesthood is a welcome addition/to the series of reprints being provided by the, Newman Book Shop. It has been called the finest of all Chrysostom's ¯ writings and the first great pastoral work ever written. --C. DEMUTH, S.J. THE BOOK OF CATHOLIC AUTHORS. Second Series. Edited with preface and notes by Walter Romicj. Pp. 312. Walter Romig and Company, Detroit, 194:L $2.20. The Second Series of The Book of Catholic Authors should be warmly received, especially by young Catholic writers, for whom it sdems to be particularly designed. Readers will be treated to a per-sonal interview, an inspirational chat with voyagers .in the field of Catholic letters who have arrived. Marshalled through its pages are many names that were regret-fully missed in the first group, personalities such as Bishop Francis C. Kelly, Rev. Owen Francis Dudley, Halliday Sutherland, Rev. Fran'cis LeBuffe, S.J., and John Moody. Priests, nuns, men and women of the world pass in disarming review and tell of their endeavors in becoming novelists, dramatists, historians, poets, essayists, l~ycholo-gists, spiritual writers. As informally and candidly as if it were a 273 BOOK REVIEWS conversation over the back fence while resting from the hoe'work on the Victory garden, they relate how they got thi~t way, their literary background and ~early struggles, the romance of the. best stiller that nobody wanted; punctuating their "do's"°and '~don'ts" with a flick of an imaginar.y .blade of grass, they offer practical advice to a~plring° authors. They plead the cause of Catholic v~riters. They are gen-erous with encouragement: "I becam~ a write~ because I am a'Cath-olic. There's something to write about when you're a Catholic." The sketches are pleasantly brief, but at the~ same time they are concentrated capsules of writer's vitamin, of antidote for the severest . . case of beginner's digcouragement.---~. F. ABBICK, S.J. TALES FROM THE RECTORY. By' the Most Reverend Francis clement Kelley. Pp. 193. The Bruce Pubilshing Company, Milwaukee, 1943. $2.2S. Every day all: over th~ world very ordinary PeoPle are passing.in and out of rectories, where from their pastor they receive added "stre.ngth tobear their burdens, kindly advice to solve their problems, and.sinceie sympathy in their sorrows. The pastors, too, have their own triumphs and failures. Bishop Kelley, author of many popu-lar books, has condensed many year~ of such pastoral experienc.e in this a.nthology of twenty.-four of his short stories. It is not s~rprising, therefore, that these stories are packed with interest for the reader. Like the p~rables of Christ, each has within it some gem of truth which may serve as a guide in everyday prob-. lems. As in the parables, that gem of truth is enhanced and b~ight-ened by the fact that it is set in a story whose characters are very real persons with very human emotions and reactions. In an atmosphere haunted with the grim realities of war, Tales from thd Rector~ is both a sedative for erratic emotions and a guide for bewildered minds. --J. W. NAUGHTON, ~.J. HOW TO THINK. By Arthur D. Fearon. Pp. 194. College Publishing "Company, San Francisco, 1943. (Price not listed.) The subtitle of this book is Hotu to Anal~cze, Associate, Memo-ri2e, Reason; but perhaps a more apt and appealing subtitle is indi-cated ixi the Preface, "Shortcuts toefficient studying." Every teacher will heartily concur wi~h Dr. Fearon in his ex-pressed wish that these hints will reach every thinking person over 274 BOOK REVIEWS I d. The remarks on Analysis ~speciallY show a real grasp of the problems confronting a prospective student. Yet is it not to be feared that the reading of such a concise¯ meth-odolgy wil! be meaningful only to one who has discovered by ex-pe~ rience the value of analysis in his. study? Only such a one will be struck with the high efficiency of the hints which are suggested. Expertus potest credere. ¯ In the hands of an enthusiastic teacher (and an apostle of clear thinking), this book could be used to give a real orientation to a class. A history teacher, a retreat master, a catechist, using the sub-ject- matter that is within his grasp, could provide his class with a wholly new illumination by presenting his ideas within the frame-work of this little manual. No educator Will be the worse for inves-tigating IDa. Fearon's contribution to the problems of youth. ¯ - --R. G. NORTH, S.J. THE LOVE OF GOD. By Dom Aelred Graham, O.S.B. Pp. xlx ~ 252. Longmans, Green and'C;o., New York, 1940., $2.50. This worthwhile book has been available for some time, but on the chance that some priests and" religious have not as yet made its acquaintance, attention is gladly called to it in tbe~e pages. While the love of God for man and man's obligation to love God in return are standard themes for spiritual writers, the fundamental philosophical and theologichl principles on which a solid devotional life must be based are usually to be found only in technical works. Dora Aelred has done a significant service, by gathering these 'pri.nciples from the works of St. Thomas, St.' Augustine, St. John of the Cross and other masters, fitting them together compactly, expand-ing them with clarity and objectivity, and in general making them understandable and highly inspirational to the intelligent, serious reader. To use the author's own phrase, his book is an "essay in analysis," explaining doctrine With a view to making it effective for spiritual living. The Nature, Conditions, Expression, and Effects of the Love of God are the headings of the four large sectiohs into which the book is divided. Each section is in turn distributed through three chapters in a manner admirably suited to provide a well-balanced treatment of thesubject under discussion. 275 BOOK REVIEWS Not the least attractivefeature of the book is the authbr's facility of expression. Without apparent effort, the words and phrases seem, on reflection, to afford the best possible settings for the thought-gems brdught to light. Not often is the medi~um of words so unobtrusively effective. The pages are regularly lighted up with passages that reveal the author as a vigorous, independent thinker even when he avows, his utter dependence on the great Christian masters. Such a passage, in the chapter on Knowledge, is his discussion of Y ideals in educati'on and his 'penetrating evaluation of current .methods. Again, in the chapter on Prayer, the inevitable interrelation of social worship and the personal element in religion is presented in a way to give consid-erable pause to the tunnel-visioned extremist. As a final instance, the .chapter on Action has a section wherein art, morality, and the virtue of prudence are brought together with happy results. The passage is ¯ recommended especially to those who are recurrently in a pother over the e.ssence of Catholic Arts and Letters.--C. DEI~IUTH, S.,J. HYMNS OF: THE DOMINIGAN MISSAL AND BREVIARY. Edited with . ir~÷roducfion and no÷es by ÷he Reverend Aquinas Byrnes, O.P. Pp. 694. B. Herder Book (2o., S÷. Louis, 1943. $4.75. This work is a useful companion volume to Britt's well known handbook. Destined primarily for Dominican friars, nuns, and ter-tiaries, it is also valuable for other religious who participate in the Opus Dei. Many hymnspresented here are common to the Domini- .can and ordinary Roman breviaries. In addition, students of .hym-r~ ody will be grateful to have at hand a number of fine compositions not contained in the Roman breviary, as well as the or.iginal forms of hymns that were revised under Urban VIII. On opposite pages are printed Latin texts and English verse trans-lations. The lower half of each page is reserved for literal prose ren-derings and pertinent comments on the content, form, author, and liturgical use of the hymn under consideration. Two appendices contain helpful data on authors and translators. A third of the poetic versions are by Father Byrnes and show unusual taste and competency in this dif/icult art, the remainder being by Msgr._ Henry, Neale, Caswall and other standard translators.--C. 2. McNASpY, S.,I. 276 Decisions he- See May 4, 1943: A general assembly of the Sacred Congregation of Rites attended by Pope Pius XII voted on the miracles attributed to~ the intercession of Blessed Frances Xavier Cabrini--v.a necessary pre-requisite in the advancement of her cause of canonization. At the same meeting the Congregation also decreed that it is. safe to proceed with the beatification of Venerable Alix Le Clerc, foun-dress of the Augustinian Regular Canonesses of the Congregation of Our Lady. April, 1943: In connection with the starting of the Vatican radio's new weekly broadcast to Russia, His Holiness Pope Plus XII granted indulgences for a new prayer recommended not only on behalf of all Christians outside the unity of the Church; but especially on beh.a!f of the Russian dissidents. The prayer reads, as follows: "O Most Holy Trinity, we adord Thee, and through Mary offer our petition: grant to all unity in the faith and courage to profess it faithfully." Indulgences: 300 days each time, a plenary indulgence once a month under the usual conditions. February 27, 1943: Pius .XII, through the Sacred Penitentiary, made the following modifications in the conditions for gaining the indulgences attached to the wearing of the Brown Scapular of Our Lady of Mount Carmel: 1) All religious of the Carmelite Order (priests, brothers, nuns, and tertiaries regular) may gain the indulgences attached to the wearing of the Carmelite habit, even though the habit is not made of wool. 2) All the faithful who belong to the Carmelite Third Order Secular, arid to th~ Confraternity of the Blessed Virgin Mary of. Mount Carmel, may gain the indulgences attached to the wearing of the scapular, even though they wear a ~capula.r not made of wool. These concessions were made at the request of the Procurator General of the Carmelite Order A.O., and they are made for tile dura-tion of the war onl~l. The Holy See also granted a sanatt'o for any invalidating defects in the erection of a Third Order and of a Confratern.ity of the' Blessed Virgin Mary of Mount Carmel, as well-as in the admission of the faithful to these organizations. 277 ( UeS ons and Answers .~.26--. On the occoslon of his Golden Jubilee a religious is made th~ recipi-ent of a sum of money 'contributed by" his friends and former pupils. Should this money be considered as the personal property of the religious, or does it belong to the communih/? Canon 580, § 2 states that "whatever a ~eligious acquires by his " own industry or in respect to his institute, belongs to the institute." One may acquire in respect to his institute in two ways: (1) The donor wishes to make a gift to the institute or to the community, and does so through the individual religidus; (2) he gives it to the reli-gious, because he is a religious. In this latter case the donor knows the religious only.as a religious; he would not know him if he were not a religiotis. Thus gifts given to religious teachers.by their pupils, or by patients to religious who nurse them, are considered ~iven to the religious because they are religious.- In case of doubt, whether.[he ' gift is given to-the person or to the religious, the doubt is to be solved in favor of the community, by an analogy to canon 1536. From the foregoing it would seem that gifts received by a reli~ gious on the .occasion of his Golden ,Jubilee are given to him because he is a religious, hence their go to his community. In practice it i~ best to follow this interpretation because if the gift is considered as purely personal, the religious must add it to his pdtri-mony; and may not spend it or give it away (canon 583, 1°); whereas if the gift is considered as given to him because he is a reli- 'gious, it goes to the comm'unity but the superior may allow him to use part of it for a jubilee trip to some of the houses, or for some similar purpose. Of course, the'superior should be prepared to grant the same permission to all other jubilarians, whether they receive gifts, or not, so as to avoid any violation of common life. --27-- In case of a f~mily inheritance, may a religious renounce his or her~ share in favor of brothers and sisters? Similarly, is a religious free ÷o turn over to others of the family his share of a pension right due a parent? The answer to these questions will depend to a certain extent upon the civil law of the State in which the will of the deceased per- 278 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS son is executed. If the state law obliges a pare

Se puede pensar que esta asociación pudiera tener alguna relación biológica, pero como argumenta Pauletti (2012) no hay raíces ancestrales de esta asignación de colores a las niñas y niños. Esta autora señala que estos colores empezaron a asociarse al sexo en la Segunda Guerra Mundial, ya que antes se usaba el blanco para los bebes. La finalidad de esta imposición es establecer unas pautas, normas y estereotipos a las personas. Esta cuestión no tendría importancia si ello no conllevara una clasificación y jerarquización. Esta asignación condiciona el aspecto físico, el entorno y hasta los gustos. Y lo mismo ocurre con la música. Cuando se piensa en instrumentos o dirección de orquestas se extrapola a los varones. Si nos preguntasen por el nombre de algún compositor de música clásica, prácticamente todas las personas podrían responder como ejemplo que son Mozart, Beethoven o Falla. En cambio no mencionarían a las mujeres, como ocurre en otras artes. La invisibilidad de las mujeres en este ámbito es tan llamativa que, una de las razones para realizar esta Tesis es poner en evidencia los mecanismos que son los causantes de ese error. Los pilares básicos que sustentan este trabajo son la igualdad, el género, los derechos humanos, la música y la educación. Con los hallazgos se pretende conocer, analizar y demostrar cómo se construye la identidad del alumnado a través de la educación musical en la etapa de primaria, desde una mirada de género. Queremos "prestar nuestras gafas" para que se vea la discriminación que aún existe en la educación. De hecho la Ley Orgánica 8/2013, de 9 de diciembre, para la mejora de la calidad Educativa (LOMCE), afirma que "el nivel educativo de los ciudadanos determina su capacidad de competir con éxito en el ámbito del panorama internacional y de afrontar los desafíos que se planteen en el futuro", esto supone abrir las puertas a puestos de trabajo de alta cualificación, lo que representa una apuesta por el crecimiento económico y por un futuro mejor. Para ello se resalta el papel de materias científicas y técnicas, eliminando la obligatoriedad de cursar educación artística (plástica y música) en Educación Primaria, y música en Educación Secundaria, hecho que posibilita que un alumno o alumna termine su escolarización en España sin haber estudiado dicha materia. Otra razón para iniciar este estudio es que, como docente que soy, comparto los planteamientos de la corriente constructivista (Porlan, 1993; Díaz-Aguado y Medrano, 1994; Carretero, 2010) en la consideración de que la investigación es un factor fundamental para que las personas elaboremos y reconstruyamos nuestro conocimiento. Está claro que es fundamental mantener una perspectiva investigadora que nos permita conocer cuáles serían los nuevos conocimientos más adecuados para interaccionar en un contexto de aprendizaje y/o de formación. Pero la valoración de esta disciplina no siempre ha sido positiva, en concreto en la enseñanza básica. Murphey (1992, pp. 8-9) recoge algunas creencias del profesorado sobre el uso de la música en el terreno educativo, como son ''Los profesores no se toman la música en serio; creen que puede molestar a las clases contiguas; los estudiantes "se desmadran " y se pierde el control de la clase; los diferentes gustos musicales entre los estudiantes de un mismo grupo es un problema. " Santos (1997a) insiste también en que siguen persistiendo los prejuicios contrarios a la utilización de las canciones en el colegio, ya que se considera una pérdida de tiempo, una distracción del currículum a seguir, además de una falta de rigor y seriedad académica. Partiendo de la afirmación ya conocida de que "la educación, bien entendida, no es tan solo una preparación para la vida; es, en sí misma, una manifestación permanente y armoniosa de la vida" (Willems, 1984, pp. 13-14). Nos planteamos que esta idea debería extenderse a todo estudio artístico y particularmente para la educación musical, que apela, como afirma Willems (1984, pp. 13-14) "a la mayoría de las facultades del ser humano ". El desarrollo de estas capacidades y cualidades en los niños y niñas va a depender de los ambientes sociales a los que están expuestos: la familia, la escuela y la sociedad en general. En particular, la familia es el primer ambiente en el que pasamos los primeros años de nuestra vida, y precisamente es en éste, dónde reside la base de la educación musical. En ella se adquieren las habilidades sociales que permitirán desarrollar la autonomía, ya que "e/ modo como están siendo educados puede contribuir para que lleguen a ser más completos o, por otro lado, para limitar sus iniciativas y sus aspiraciones" (Finco, 2010, p. 59). Por lo tanto, será la familia la primera forma natural de preparación, transmitiéndoles, por medio del canto y juegos, la sensibilidad por la música. Luego está la escuela que complementa la formación en valores que el discente recibe en su hogar, máxime cuando existen en el entorno deficiencias en esta formación (García, 2005). Incluso desde "las ropas rosas y azules y los pendientes que 'adornan ' las orejas de las niñas, son claros indicios de que el desarrollo de los roles de género comienza muy tempranamente" (Gómez Bueno, 2001, p. 56). El segundo agente es la escuela. El colegio tiene un importante papel socializador, transmisor de valores, normas, hábitos de comportamiento., que facilitan la convivencia entre las personas. Tiene una serie de funciones, las cuales podríamos resumir en tres: preparar al sujeto para su futuro profesional, educar a las personas moral y socialmente, y dar una cultura personal. El ambiente social y público de las instituciones educativas, posibilita una educación colectiva, lo que propicia al niño o niña diferentes experiencias por medio de la convivencia con las diferencias de sexo, edad, etnia, religión, entre otras (Faria y Finco, 2011). Dentro de la función socializadora que tiene el colegio, es destacable "el papel de las personas que intervienen en él, las relaciones de poder, usos del lenguaje, estereotipos de género, estrategias de enseñanza y pertinencia de sus contenidos, y evaluación en la escuela" (Chavez, 2006, p. 18). Imbemón (2002, p. 17) considera que "la educación por sí sola no puede introducir los cambios necesarios en las sociedades pero sí puede actuar como instrumento fundamental para promover cambios en la misma. Es precisamente en estos tres ambientes, donde se mueve este trabajo de investigación que se presenta como Tesis Doctoral, puesto que la música se aprende desde la familia, ya que forma parte de la cultura de un lugar, y se vivencia en la escuela y la sociedad. La finalidad de este trabajo de investigación tiene una doble vertiente, por un lado valorar y demostrar que la música es un potente agente transmisor de conocimientos, no solamente musicales, sino también de valores, costumbres, creencias, estereotipos., que influyen en el desarrollo de la identidad de las personas. Por otro lado, resaltar la importante labor de la música en el proceso educativo del alumnado, ya que a través de ella se desarrollan capacidades, habilidades, destrezas. básicas para la vida de nuestro alumnado. El interés por este tema, parte del año 2008, ya que me inicié en esta temática con el trabajo de investigación titulado "Análisis de la transmisión de los estereotipos de género en el cancionero de Huelva como recurso educativo" realizado para el programa de doctorado "La Educación en la sociedad multicultural" (Bienio 2006/08). Para el desarrollo de dicho trabajo, se tomó como referencia el Cancionero infantil de la provincia de Huelva, realizado por Francisco José García Gallardo y Herminia Arredondo Pérez (1995), investigadores y docentes de la Facultad de Ciencias de la Educación de esa provincia andaluza. Las conclusiones de dicha investigación fueron la génesis de esta tesis doctoral, pues como se verá más adelante en el apartado "Conclusiones Finales", se siguen manteniendo los estereotipos en los recursos utilizados en las clases de música. En los primeros pasos para profundizar en esta temática, se puso de manifiesto los pocos estudios realizados en nuestro contexto sobre este tópico. Precisamente éste fue uno de los motivos que profesionalmente como docente, me generó curiosidad y fue decisivo para iniciar el estudio de investigación Como se ha mencionado anteriormente, tras una primera labor de búsqueda de documentación e investigaciones al respecto, encontramos que existen trabajos sobre el desarrollo de la identidad en la infancia como Phinney & Ong, 2007; Smith, 1995 y 2002; Pnevmatikos, Geka y Divane, 2010; y Markus, 2008; Al mismo tiempo, constan numerosos trabajos de investigaciones sobre transmisión de estereotipos de género a través de diversas asignaturas (como lenguaje, matemáticas, ciencias sociales, naturales, educación física. e incluso en la formación del profesorado que las imparte) como Márquez Guerrero, 2013; Álvarez, 1990; Torre, 2002; Velasco Marugán, 2012; Torres, G., y Arjona, 1988; Martínez Scott, 2012; Marco López, 1991; Lomas, 2004; Lozano Domingo, 1995; Díaz De Greñu, 2010; entre otros. Sin embargo, a la hora de abordar la educación musical como trasmisora de estereotipos a través de los recursos utilizados en las clases de música, existen muy pocas investigaciones al respecto. Con esta Tesis Doctoral, se pretende demostrar que en los recursos utilizados en clase, en este caso uno de los más empleados, como son los libros de texto de la asignatura de música en un centro educativo concreto, se transfieren conocimientos, hábitos, creencias., en definitiva, las concepciones existentes en una cultura andró céntrica, incluyendo los prejuicios. Se pretende poner de manifiesto el poder de este medio, ya que la educación es sonido e imagen; es decir, se transmite lo que se escucha y se ve, pero en la música, más concretamente, está acentuada esta relación por su incidencia en el desarrollo de las personas. Concretamente nos centramos en la influencia y efectos de la educación musical en la conformación de la identidad de género y en concreto en la transmisión de los estereotipos que se divulgan en los libros de texto de música. Para ello, se ha elegido un colegio onubense, el CEIP Aurora Moreno, ubicado en la localidad Gibraleón (Huelva). El planteamiento de este trabajo en el estudio de los libros texto es porque (desgraciadamente) en la educación en general, y la musical en particular, es el recurso más extendido a la hora de impartir las clases, limitando enormemente las actividades, tareas y ejercicios, ya que "todo está planificado" por las editoriales, ofreciendo hasta las respuestas estandarizadas que cada alumna o alumno debería dar, y no solo eso, sino las imágenes y textos que contienen, están encasillados en unas creencias, valores, pensamientos, actitudes. que poco a poco van influenciando la identidad de nuestras niñas y niños. Este poder educativo en la construcción del género, lo tiene incluso en la música actual, ya que se representan patrones de comportamiento que se asumen como normales y que, aun en la actualidad, ni se cuestionan. Podemos poner como ejemplo de esto la canción titulada "Mujer Florero" de Ella baila sola. Los fenómenos educativos no son de carácter meramente técnico. Son, más bien, de naturaleza moral y política. La actividad educativa está impregnada de contenidos morales. La responsabilidad que tenemos como profesionales del proceso educativo -en política, gestión, docencia.- es tener un control democrático externo de las acciones que se llevan a cabo y, también, un control interno nacido de las exigencias y necesidades de los protagonistas (Kelley y Beauchesne, 2001). Por eso, "no podemos ignorar o desatender que las escuelas están altamente implicadas en la educación, regulación, control y corrección de las expresiones sexuales y de género de niños y niñas, y que esas prácticas son indisociables de la producción simultánea de ordenamientos y jerarquías que legitiman y autorizan situaciones de exclusión, marginación, subordinación y violencia entre las identidades sexuales y de género, lo que posee una trascendencia política imposible de ignorar, por lo que urge avanzar en la inserción y discusión del tema en la formación de los y las profesionales de la educación" (Quaresma da Silva, Fanfa Sarmentó & Fossatti, 2012, p. 17). Los estereotipos de género que se muestran en muchas ocasiones en los libros de texto, canciones populares o tradicionales, videojuegos., encasillan a las mujeres en las "perfectas amas de casa y esposas", amables, dóciles, frágiles y, en definitiva, sin voluntad propia ni identidad o autonomía, dependientes siempre de un hombre para sentirse realizadas. Todo esto pertenece en educación al llamado currículum oculto. Se puede definir el currículum oculto como el conjunto de normas, costumbres, creencias, lenguajes y símbolos que se manifiestan en la estructura y el funcionamiento de una institución, constituyendo una fuente de aprendizajes para todas las personas que integran la organización (Santos Guerra, 2002). Los aprendizajes que se derivan del currículo oculto no solo afectan al alumnado sino también a los docentes. A partir del currículo oculto se asimilan significados a través de las prácticas que se realizan, de los discursos que se utilizan, de los textos que se leen (Santos, 2002). El androcentrismo tiene acciones muy poderosas y, en el ámbito musical más concretamente, han tratado de desvalorizar todo lo que hacen las mujeres. Estas acciones sumadas a la invisibilidad de las mujeres en la música, contribuye a desarrollar este papel secundario de ellas en esta materia de conocimiento. Por una parte se consigue infravalorar a la música realizada por mujeres, ya que carece de valor o importancia y, es por ello considerada una actividad propia de ellas, mientras que cuando hacen una aportación importante se destaca si son hombres. Como se plantea al inicio de este apartado todas y todos hemos oído hablar de Mozart o Beethoven, pero apenas se conoce la producción y el papel que han desempeñado en la vida de sus familiares mujeres como Fanny Mendelssohn (hermana de Félix), Clara Schumann (mujer de Robert), Alma Malher (mujer de Gustav) o Nanerl Mozart (hermana de Wolfgang Amadeus). Estas cuestiones son, muchas veces, olvidadas por el profesorado a la hora de seleccionar los libros de texto y quien tiene la responsabilidad en las editoriales, mostrando las concepciones y creencias arcaicas de una sociedad patriarcal, dominada por los hombres, que en algunas cuestiones es diferente en nuestros días, estando, por tanto, fuera de contexto. Con los hallazgos de este estudio se obtienen pruebas que resaltan la importancia que tiene el papel femenino dentro de la música y su efecto en la educación de las personas, en la línea que plantea una corriente actual del postmodemismo como es la musicología feminista. Esta rama de la musicología reivindica la figura de las féminas como eje central para evitar la discriminación de las mujeres no sólo como contenido, sino también como objeto. Para llevarlo a cabo, planteamos esta investigación cuya estructura se presenta a continuación: Para iniciar la fundamentación teórica de este trabajo, iniciamos una presentación de aspectos básicos que aportan la aclaración de los conceptos básicos que van a permitir la comprensión del mismo. Se parte de la idea de que la música es potente medio de comunicación, en muchas ocasiones objetivo y en otras subjetivo, otorgándole así una gran importancia como transmisor de ideas, creencias, valores, sentimientos. En primer lugar, se presenta la música como lenguaje, con sus elementos constitutivos, pues es una faceta poco conocida. También describimos lo inmensamente relacionada que está con la palabra, pues, muchos musicólogos coinciden en asignarle un origen común con el lenguaje oral. Como expresa Bernabé Villodre (2012, p. 107), "la música es una manifestación artística, es un medio de expresión de ideas, de emociones, de vivencias de una sociedad. El arte musical combina sus elementos propios de tal forma que acerca al oyente a la cultura del pueblo que la ha producido y a las emociones humanas. Por todo esto, podemos considerarla como una base para el establecimiento del diálogo intercultural, como una herramienta más de trabajo de la ínterculturalidad". La educación artística y, más concretamente la musical, ayuda a una transmisión de creencias, normas. ya que "en la música se enseñan valores y con la música se aprende a elegir valores" (Touriñán y Longueira, 2010, p. 160). Posteriormente, presentamos a la música como una fuente de expresión, e incluso haremos un recorrido cronológico del desarrollo expresivo de los niños y niñas a través de la misma. Además, se explicará con más detenimiento los tres tipos de expresión musical: vocal, instrumental y corporal. "El proceso de creación de la música puede contribuir a la apreciación de la diversidad cultural y al respeto de la libertad de expresión; de ahí, la importancia de la música como medio de comunicación entre culturas y, por extensión, la importancia de la educación por la música. Sin embargo, debe señalarse que no sólo la práctica musical en el ámbito formal puede favorecer la adquisición de la denominada competencia inter cultural" (García, Escarbajal de Haro y Escarbajal Frutos, 2007, p. 26). Posteriormente, se explica cómo el estudio de la música a lo largo de las distintas sociedades ha dado lugar a una ciencia llamada sociología. Se desarrolla una aproximación cronológica de la génesis de esta ciencia, así como de los distintos intelectuales importantes en el desarrollo de la misma. "Partimos de la idea de que la música se ha dotado desde un principio de una carga inherente de sociabilidad, es expresión de la vida interior, expresión de los sentimientos, pero a su vez exige por parte de quienes la escuchan, receptividad y conocimiento del estilo de que se trate, además de conocimiento de la sociedad en la que se crea, ya que cada obra musical es un conjunto de signos, inventados durante la ejecución y dictados por las necesidades del contexto social. Si desligamos a la obra de la sociedad que la creó los signos musicales tendrán sentidos distintos" (Hormigos, 2012, p. 75). En la antigüedad, el sentido musical estaba asociado a actividades colectivas, donde se compartían experiencias y vivencias, es decir, el contacto del individuo con la música se producía en el directo, compartiendo la experiencia musical con otras personas y generándose, de este modo, un verdadero acontecimiento social, sin embargo en la actualidad, es habitual que olvidemos esta dimensión ya que estamos demasiado acostumbrados a escucharla en solitario (Drósser, 2012). A continuación, se presenta el desarrollo cronológico de la función social de la música, desde la prehistoria hasta la actualidad. En este apartado se explica la importancia de la misma en las distintas sociedades y los usos que se hacía o hace de ella. En el desarrollo de este punto se resalta la importancia que tenía la música en la prehistoria hasta Grecia y Roma, pues entonces, tenía un valor formativo y educativo, y como posteriormente se le dio un trato de divertimento o pasatiempo, obviando sus propiedades. "Para descifrar el mensaje que posee toda composición musical es necesario entender su estructura y la forma de la música, estructura y forma que quedan determinadas por las características de la sociedad que las crea, las hereda o las interpreta. Por tanto, el hecho musical debe entenderse como una actividad social" (Hormigos, 2012, p. 76). Además, destaca la importancia del protagonismo femenino a lo largo de la historia, pues como veremos más adelante, las mujeres somos las "grandes olvidadas" en los libros de historia de la música. Green (2001, p. 25) argumenta que "la división del trabajo musical en una esfera pública, en gran medida masculina, y una esfera privada, en gran parte femenina, es un rasgo de la historia de la música occidental, así como de muchas culturas musicales de todo el mundo ". "En la música, el sistema patriarcal no ha sido menos influyente que en otros niveles sociales. La mujeres en la música han estado siempre invisibilizadas y relegadas a un segundo plano. No debemos olvidar que la música está insertada en un determinado modelo de sociedad que la produce, transmitiendo un determinado tipo de cultura, valores e intereses estéticos que siempre han de estar en conexión con el resto de factores que conforman dicha sociedad" (Laborda, 2015, p. 168) En el siguiente apartado se aborda el valor educativo de la música, iniciándolo en los antecedentes históricos y recorriendo cronológicamente las distintas épocas hasta llegar a la ley educativa actual, LOMCE. En este apartado, se desarrolla cómo se entiende la educación actual, así como más específicamente el currículum de música. Como en este trabajo es especialmente relevante el valor educativo de la música, así como de sus aportaciones a la etapa de primaria, se realiza una revisión detallada de los métodos de enseñanza y aprendizaje con fundamentación psicológica, los cuales aseguran que la música contribuye a una formación integral del alumnado, como son los de Suzuki, 1978; Willems, 1984; Kodaly, 1974; Ward, 1964; Orff-Schulwerk, 1969; Martenot, 1993; Paynter, 1999; y Dalcroze, 1998. En la escuela es fundamental tratar, estudiar y formar al alumnado en conocimientos sobre música. Según Alonso, Pereira y Soto (2003) la música es un instrumento educativo para la expresión de valores y sentimientos, ya que a través de la educación musical, el alumnado puede participar en producciones de forma cooperativa, establecer relaciones sociales, trabajo en equipo. Herrera (2007, p. 6), considera que "desde la educación musical podemos elaborar un marco de actuación idóneo para trabajar aspectos como la libertad, autonomía personal, autoestima, honestidad, felicidad, espíritu crítico, igualdad, solidaridad, pluralismo, cooperación, amor, creatividad. ". Una vez contextualizado el marco teórico, en el segundo bloque, se fundamenta y describen los objetivos de este estudio, que pueden resumirse en el título de esta Tesis Doctoral, realizar un análisis de la construcción de la identidad desde una perspectiva de género a través de la educación musical en la etapa de primaria. Para ello, se analizan los libros de texto de música desde una perspectiva de género; se realiza un análisis de los personajes que aparecen en los libros; se describe el rol social que desempeñan hombres y mujeres presentes en los libros de texto utilizados en las clases de música; se detectan y analizan los estereotipos de género que se le enseñan y transmiten al alumnado. Todo ello, con la finalidad de sensibilizar y crear conciencia entre el profesorado y a la administración pública de la presencia de un potente currículum oculto en los libros de texto; descubrir si en los libros de texto y editoriales seleccionadas existen valores racistas, sexistas o de otro tipo de discriminación de las personas de forma explícita y, además, proporcionar unas pautas de análisis que faciliten una mirada crítica, de género, sobre el material que se utiliza en las aulas de Educación Primaria que son los libros de texto. Sobre el material estudiado se ha realizado un análisis de contenido, cuyas categorías son la denominación de los personajes, descripción física, descripción psicológica, acciones que realizan, oficios o profesiones y objetos. Entre las conclusiones extraídas destaca el importante papel que desempeña la música como transmisora de normas, costumbres., en muchas ocasiones estereotipados, así como la influencia que esto produce en el desarrollo de la identidad del alumnado. De esta forma, se demuestra el verdadero valor educativo que tiene la música, más allá del aspecto lúdico, revalorizando su papel en el proceso formativo de los niños y niñas. Para finalizar, se ha incluido un apartado titulado "Limitaciones y posibles nuestras líneas de actuación" en el que se expondrá tanto propuestas de interacción como futuros estudios a realizar en esta línea. Dadas las condiciones de espacio y tiempo, hay cuestiones que no se pueden presentar en este trabajo, pero siento un gran interés para abordarlas en futuros estudios como son tratar las principales aportaciones de la musicología feminista, estudiar y poner de manifiesto en el contexto educativo los nombres de instrumentistas, directoras y compositoras, así como los instrumentos y repertorios considerados masculinos o femeninos. Por ello, hay que recalcar la importancia de una buena selección de los materiales utilizados por parte del profesorado en las clases, pues en la escuela, como agente socializador que es, se transfieren las creencias y valores inmersos en ellos. ; As presentation of this thesis, we want to mention the name of it in the title. By "Beyond Pink or Blue" we wish to express the arbitrariness of cultural patterns that prevail in childhood and spanning the entire life of the people. You might think that this association could have any biological relationship, but as argued Pauletti (2012) no ancestral roots of this color mapping to children. She points out that these colors began to associate sex in the Second World War, since before white for babies was used. The purpose of this tax is to establish guidelines, standards and stereotypes people. This issue would not matter if it did not involve a classification and prioritization. This assignment affects the appearance, the environment and even tastes. And so it is with music. When you think about instruments or orchestras address is extrapolated to men. If question at by the name of a classical composer, virtually everyone may respond as such they are Mozart, Beethoven and Falla. However not mention women, as in other arts. The invisibility of women in this field is so striking that one of the reasons for this thesis is to highlight the mechanisms that are responsible for that mistake. The basic pillars of this work are equality, gender, human rights, music and education. With the findings it aims to analyze and demonstrate how identity is constructed pupils through music education in the primary stage, from a gender perspective. We want to "pay our glasses" to see that discrimination still exists in education. In fact the Organic Law 8/2013, of 9 December, for the improvement of educational quality (LOMCE), states that "the educational level of citizens determines its ability to compete successfully in the field of the international scene and to face the challenges arising in the future ", this means opening the doors to jobs for highly qualified, representing a commitment to economic growth and a better future. For this, the role of scientific and technical matters is highlighted by eliminating mandatory study art education (plastic and music) in Elementary Education, and music in secondary education, a fact that enables a pupil finished his schooling in Spain without having studied this matter. Another reason to start this study is that, as a teacher I am, I share the ideas of the constructivist (Porlan, 1993; Diaz-Aguado y Medrano, 1994; Carter, 2010) in considering that research is a key factor for we draw people and rebuild our knowledge. Clearly it is essential to maintain a research perspective that allows us to know what would be the most appropriate new knowledge to interact in a context of learning and / or training. But the assessment of this discipline has not always been positive, particularly in basic education. Murphey (. 1992, pp 8-9) collects some beliefs of teachers on the use of music in the educational field, such as "Teachers do not take music seriously; They believe it can disturb adjacent classes; students "are desmadran" and control of the class is lost; different musical tastes among students of the same group is a problem . " Santos (1997a) also insists that those opposed to the use of songs in school prejudices persist, as it is considered a waste of time, a distraction from the curriculum to follow, along with a lack of rigor and academic seriousness. Starting from the well-known statement that "education, properly understood, is not just a preparation for life; is, in itself, a permanent and harmonious manifestation of life "(Willems, 1984, pp. 13-14). We propose that this idea should be extended to all artistic study and particularly for music education, appealing, as Willems (1984, pp. 13-14) "to most of the powers of the human being," he says. The development of these skills and qualities in children will depend on the social environments to which they are exposed: the family, school and society in general. In particular, the family is the first environment in which we spent the first years of our lives, and this is precisely where the basis of music education lies. In her social skills that will develop autonomy, because "the way we are being educated can contribute to become more complete and, secondly, to limit their initiatives and aspirations" (Finco, 2010 are acquired, p. 59). Therefore, the family is the first natural form of preparation, passing, through singing and games, music sensitivity. Then there is the school that complements the teaching of values that the learner receives at home, especially when there are deficiencies in the training environment (Garcia, 2005). Even from the "pink and blue clothes and earrings 'adorn' ears girls, are clear indications that the development of gender roles begins very early" (Gomez Bueno, 2001, p. 56). The second agent is school. The school has an important socializing role, transmitter of values, norms, habits of behavior . that facilitate the coexistence between people. It has a number of functions, which could be summarized in three: prepare the subject for their professional future, educate people morally and socially, and give a personal culture. The social environment and public educational institutions, enables a collective education, which encourages the child through different experiences of living with differences in gender, age, ethnicity, religion, among others (Faria and Finco, 2011) . Within the social function that has the school is remarkable "the role of the people involved in it, power relations, use of language, gender stereotypes, teaching strategies and relevance of its contents, and evaluation at school "(Chavez, 2006, p. 18). Imbernon (2002, p. 17) believes that "education alone can not make the necessary changes in societies but can act as a key instrument to promote changes in them." It is in these three environments, where the research work presented as a doctoral thesis, since music is learned from the family moves, as part of the culture of a place, and is experienced in school and society. The purpose of this research is twofold, first assess and demonstrate that music is a powerful transmitter agent of knowledge, not only music, but also of values, customs, beliefs, stereotypes . that influence the development the identity of people. On the other hand, emphasize the important role of music in the educational process of students, since through her abilities, skills . basic life of our students develop. Interest in this issue of the year 2008, since I started in this area with the paper titled "Analysis of the transmission of gender stereotypes in the songbook of Huelva as an educational resource" made to the doctoral program " Education in multicultural society " (2006/08 biennium) . For the development of this work, reference was made to child Songbook province of Huelva, by José Francisco Gallardo and Herminia Garcia Arredondo Perez (1995), researchers and teachers of the Faculty of Education of the Andalusian province. The findings of this investigation were the genesis of this dissertation, because as you will see later in "Final Conclusions" stereotypes are still maintained in the resources used in music classes. In the first steps to deepen this subject, it revealed few studies in our context on this topic. Precisely this was one of the reasons that professionally as a teacher, I generated curiosity and was instrumental in initiating the research study As mentioned above, after a first work of literature search and research the matter, we find that there are studies on the development of identity in childhood as Phinney & Ong, 2007; Smith, 1995 and 2002; Pnevmatikos, Geka and Divane, 2010; and Markus, 2008; At the same time, numerous studies consist of research on transmission of gender stereotypes through different subjects (such as language, mathematics, social sciences, natural, physical education . and even in teacher training that taught) as Marquez Guerrero, 2013 ; Alvarez, 1990; Torre, 2002; Marugán Velasco, 2012; Torres, G., and Arjona, 1988; Scott Martinez, 2012; Marco Lopez, 1991; Lomas, 2004; Lozano Domingo, 1995; Diaz De grenu, 2010; among others. However, when dealing with music education as a transmitter of stereotypes through resources used in music classes, there is little research on the subject. This doctoral thesis aims to demonstrate that the resources used in class, in this case one of the employees, such as textbooks for the subject of music in a particular school, knowledge, habits, beliefs are transferred . In short, existing in a male-centered culture, including prejudice conceptions. It is intended to demonstrate the power of this medium, since education is sound and picture; that is, transmitting what is heard and seen, but in music, more specifically, this relationship is accentuated by their impact on the development of people. In particular we focus on the influence and effects of music education in shaping gender identity and specifically in the transmission of the stereotypes that are disclosed in music textbooks. To do this, we have chosen a school Huelva, CEIP Aurora Moreno, located in the town Gibraleón (Huelva). The approach of this work in the study of text books is because (unfortunately) in education in general, and music in particular, is the most widespread when it comes to teach the classes, greatly limiting the activities, tasks and exercises resource because "everything is planned" by publishers, offering up the standard replies that each student or student should give, and not only that, but the images and texts that contain, are encased in some beliefs, values, thoughts, attitudes . that they are slowly influencing the identity of our children. This educational power in the construction of gender, has it even in music today, as behavior patterns that are assumed to be normal and, even today, not at issue are represented. We can make an example of this the song entitled "Woman Vase" Her dances alone. Educational phenomena are not purely technical. They are, rather, moral and political. The educational activity is imbued with moral content. Our responsibility as professionals of the educational process-in policy, management, teaching . - is to have an external democratic control of the actions undertaken and also an internal control born of the demands and needs of the protagonists (Kelley and Beauchesne, 2001) . Therefore, "we can not ignore or neglect that schools are highly involved in education, regulation, control and correction of sexual expression and gender of children, and that these practices are inseparable from the simultaneous production of systems and hierarchies legitimizing and authorizing situations of exclusion, marginalization, subordination and violence between sexual identities and gender, which has a political significance impossible to ignore, it is urgent to advance the inclusion and discussion of the issue in the training of and education professionals "(Quaresma da Silva Sarmento Fanfa & Fossatti, 2012, p. 17). Gender stereotypes shown on many occasions in textbooks, popular and traditional songs, video games . pigeonhole women in "perfect housewives and wives", kind, gentle, fragile and ultimately without free will or identity or autonomy, always dependent on a man to feel fulfilled. All this belongs to the so-called hidden curriculum education. You can set the hidden curriculum as a set of rules, customs, beliefs, languages and symbols that appear in the structure and functioning of an institution, constituting a source of learning for all people within the organization (Santos Guerra, 2002 ). The lessons derived from hidden curriculum not only affect the students but also teachers. From the meanings hidden curriculum through the practices carried out, the speeches that are used, the texts read (Santos, 2002) are treated. Androcentrism has very powerful actions and, more specifically in the musical field, have tried to devalue everything that women do. These actions added to the invisibility of women in music, helps develop this secondary role of them in this area of knowledge. On the one hand it is achieved underestimate music by women because it has no value or importance and is therefore considered an activity for them, whereas when they make an important contribution stands out if they are men. As discussed earlier in this section each and everyone has heard of Mozart or Beethoven, but little production and the role they have played in the lives of their female relatives as Fanny Mendelssohn (sister of Felix), Clara Schumann is known ( wife of Robert), Alma Mahler (Gustav woman) or Nanerl Mozart (sister of Wolfgang Amadeus). These issues are often neglected by teachers when selecting textbooks and who is responsible for the editorial, showing the archaic conceptions and beliefs of a patriarchal society dominated by men, that on some issues is different nowadays, being thus out of context. With the findings of this study tests that highlight the importance of women's role in music and its effect on the education of persons, in line it posed a current stream of postmodernism and feminist musicology is obtained. This branch of musicology claimed the figure of the women as central to prevent discrimination against women not only as content but also as an object. To carry out this research propose the structure is as follows: To start the theoretical foundation of this work, we began a presentation of basics that provide clarification of the basic concepts that will allow the understanding of it. It starts from the idea that music is powerful means of communication, in many goal chances and other subjective, thus giving great importance as a transmitter of ideas, beliefs, values, feelings . First, music is presented as a language with its constituents, as it is a little-known facet. We also describe how immensely related one with the word, then, many musicologists agree to assign a common origin with the spoken language. As expressed Barnabas Villodre (2012, p. 107), "Music is an art form, it is a means of expressing ideas, emotions, experiences of a society. The musical art combines elements so that the listener about the culture of the people that has already produced human emotions. For all this, we can consider it as a basis for establishing intercultural dialogue as a working tool of multiculturalism ". Arts education and, more specifically musical, helps transmission of beliefs, rules . and that "values are taught music and music learn to choose values" (Tourinan and Longueira, 2010, p. 160). Subsequently, we present the music as a source of expression, including making a chronological development of the expressive children through it. Also, it is explained in more detail the three types of musical expression: vocal and instrumental body. "The process of creating music can contribute to the appreciation of cultural diversity and respect for freedom of expression; hence the importance of music as a means of communication between cultures and, by extension, the importance of education for music. However, it should be noted that not only the musical practice in the formal scope may favor the acquisition of the so-called intercultural competence "(Garcia de Haro and Escarbajal Escarbajal Frutos, 2007, p. 26). Later, he explained how the study of music along the various companies has led to a science called sociology. A chronological approach to the genesis of this science develops, as well as other leading intellectuals in developing it. "We start from the idea that music has provided from the beginning of an inherent burden of sociability, it is an expression of the inner life, expression of feelings, but in turn requires from those who listen, responsiveness and knowledge of style which, in addition to knowledge of the society in which you create concerned, as each musical work is a set of signs invented during implementation and dictated by the needs of the social context. If we disclaim the work of the society that created the musical signs have different meanings "(Hormigos, 2012, p. 75) In ancient times, the musical sense was associated with group activities where life experiences are shared, that is, the individual's contact with music was produced in the direct sharing music experience with others and generating, in this way, a real social event, but today, it is common to forget this dimension as we are too used to listen alone (Drosser, 2012). Then the chronological development of the social function of music, from prehistory to the present day is presented. In this section the importance of the same in different societies and the uses made of it does or says. In developing this point how important it was the prehistoric music to Greece and Rome, since then, had a formative and educational value, and subsequently was given as a deal of amusement or pastime, ignoring its properties it is highlighted. "To decrypt the message that has all musical composition is necessary to understand its structure and form of music, structure and form are determined by the characteristics of the society that created, inherited or interpreted. Therefore, the musical should be viewed as a social activity "(Hormigos, 2012, p. 76). It also highlights the importance of women's role throughout history, because as we shall see, women are the "forgotten ones" in the history books of music. Green (2001, p. 25) argues that "the division of the musical work in a public sphere, in large measure men and a private sphere, largely female, is a feature of the history of Western music, as well as many musical cultures around the world. " "In music, the patriarchal system has not been less influential than in other social levels. The women in music have always been invisible and relegated to the background. We must not forget that music is inserted in a particular model of society that produces it, conveying a certain type of culture, values and aesthetic interest must always be connected with the other factors that make that society "(Laborda, 2015 , p. 168) In the next section the educational value of music, starting it on the historical background and chronologically through the different times to reach the current education law, LOMCE addressed. This section develops understand how the current education and more specifically the music curriculum. As this work is especially relevant educational value of music as well as their contributions to the primary stage, a detailed review of the methods of teaching and learning is done with psychological foundation, which ensures that music contributes to a comprehensive training of students, such as Suzuki, 1978; Willems, 1984; Kodaly, 1974; Ward, 1964; Orff -Schulwerk, 1969; Martenot, 1993; Paynter, 1999; and Dalcroze, 1998. In school is essential to address, study and train students in knowledge about music. According to Alonso, Pereira and Soto (2003) music is an educational tool for the expression of values and feelings, and that through music education, students can participate in cooperative productions, social relationships, teamwork. . Herrera (2007, p. 6), believes that "from the musical education we can develop a framework for suitable action to work on aspects such as freedom, personal autonomy, self-esteem, honesty, happiness, critical thinking, equality, solidarity, pluralism, cooperation, love, creativity . " Once contextualized the theoretical framework, in the second block, is based and describe the objectives of this study can be summarized in the title of this thesis, an analysis of the construction of identity from a gender perspective through music education in the primary stage. To do this, the music textbooks are analyzed from a gender perspective; an analysis of the characters in the books is done; the social role played by men and women on the textbooks used in music classes described; They are detected and analyzed gender stereotypes that teach and transmit to students. All this, in order to sensitize and raise awareness among teachers and public administration of the presence of a powerful hidden curriculum in the textbooks; discover whether there are racist, sexist or other discrimination against people explicitly values in selected textbooks and publishers and also provide guidelines to facilitate analysis a critical, gender, about the material used in classrooms of primary education are textbooks. On the studied material it has conducted a content analysis, whose categories are the names of the characters, physical description, psychological description, actions performed, trades or professions and objects. Among the conclusions drawn stresses the important role of music as a transmitter of norms, customs . in many stereotyped occasions as well as the influence it has on the development of the identity of the students. Thus, the real educational value of music, beyond the recreational aspect, reassessing its role in the learning process of children is demonstrated. Finally , we have included a section entitled " Limitations and our possible courses of action " in which both proposals as future interaction studies performed on this line will be exposed. Given the conditions of space and time , there are issues that can not be presented in this work , but I feel great interest to address in future studies as they are treating the main contributions of feminist musicology, studying and highlighting the educational context names of musicians , directors and composers , as well as instruments and repertoires considered masculine or feminine. Therefore, we must stress the importance of a good selection of materials used by teachers in the classroom , because in school as a socializing agent that is , beliefs and values embedded in them are transferred .

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1. Arte, Storia, Memoria. Halbwachs e la memoria collettiva. Arte e Storia formano la memoria come fatto pubblico; e la memoria è costitutiva di qualsiasi comunità che voglia essere tale; essa è un fattore decisivo per l'identità della comunità (Toscano, 2008, p. 15). Questo passaggio di Mario Aldo Toscano ci rende subito consapevoli dei primi elementi da considerare: arte, storia, memoria. L'intreccio tra questi fattori è determinante e scaturisce da un processo non sempre pacifico o pacificato: I Beni Culturali non sono né pace né armonia: sono manifestazioni dell'avanzata faticosa di una frazione di umanità per gli itinerari impervi del mondo. Essi sono un riassunto delle dimensioni più ordinarie e più straordinarie, di eterni contrasti, di lotte tra valori (Ivi, p. 38). Il Bene Culturale è quindi il prodotto complesso di negoziazioni ma anche di imposizioni spesso conflittuali. Che la memoria possa diventare oggetto conflittuale ce lo spiega già Maurice Halbwachs, quando sostiene che la memoria collettiva "si accorda con i pensieri dominanti della società" (Halbwachs, 1987, p. 21). Se appare forzata, nella prospettiva halbwachsiana, l'idea che il ricordo individuale esista soltanto perché appoggiato su uno strato di memorie condivise da più persone e non vi sia spazio per una prospettiva psicologica del soggetto singolo, è altrettanto interessante il fatto per cui, in questa lettura basicamente durkheimiana, il ruolo dell'insieme societario sia determinante e vincolante per il soggetto. La memoria diviene quindi un'istituzione e come tale deve essere affrontata come problema delle forme istituzionalizzate che l'immagine del passato assume nella coscienza dei gruppi, e dei modi e le forme di questa istituzionalizzazione. Nessun gruppo potrebbe riprodursi nella propria identità senza produrre e conservare un'immagine del passato consolidata, almeno per alcune delle sue linee ritenute fondamentali e valide dall'insieme dei membri. Affinché però ciò avvenga, la memoria si costituisce di ricostruzioni parziali e selettive del passato. L'idea chiave di Halbwachs è dunque che ricordare sia attualizzare la memoria di un gruppo. L'immagine del passato che il ricordo attualizza non è tuttavia qualcosa di dato una volta per tutte: se il passato si "conserva", si conserva nella vita degli uomini, nelle forme oggettive della loro esistenza e nelle forme di coscienza che a queste corrispondono. Ricordare è un'azione che avviene nel presente, e dal presente dipende. La ricostruzione del passato dipende agli interessi, ai modi di pensare e ai bisogni ideali della società presente. Tuttavia (…) l'immagine del passato che ogni società si rappresenta è, in ogni epoca determinata, qualcosa che si accorda con i pensieri dominanti della società stessa. I contenuti della memoria collettiva costituiscono dunque un insieme denso e mobile, che (…) costantemente è modificato, del passato è sempre un fenomeno dinamico. Ora, questa dinamica non esclude il conflitto. (…) L'idea forse più fruttuosa che si può ricavare da Halbwachs è proprio quella che il passato, oggetto di ricostruzioni successive e suscettibili di modifica, sia una sorta di posta in gioco fra interessi e gruppi contrapposti. (…) La memoria collettiva rappresentata dalla coscienza comune di queste società riflette effettivamente il risultato di uno scontro nel quale sono decisivi i rapporti di potere fra i gruppi diversi dei quali la società globale è composta (Halbwachs, 1987, p. 28). 2. Gruppi in conflitto: la posta in gioco. Memoria vs oblio. Ora la questione si sposta dunque sui gruppi che spostano l'equilibrio della "posta in gioco", come l'ha definita poco sopra Paolo Jedlowski. Il controllo di ciò che in qualche modo deve diventare memoria è allora elemento decisivo per chi si sfida nell'arena dei significati simbolici e contemporaneamente politici. Allo stesso modo, da contraltare, oltre a ciò che deve diventare memoria si affianca ciò che deve essere escluso dalla memoria, in un processo selettivo sia positivo che negativo. Un oggetto, un avvenimento, un artefatto, un luogo, possono essere elevati qualcosa da ricordare come essere cancellati con impeto e velocità. Gli esempi sono disparati e forse anche, apparentemente, contraddittori. Si può ricordare una vittoria militare, come la vittoria di Stalingrado per le forze sovietiche ed in generale antinaziste. Al contempo si può ricordare anche una sconfitta, come monito per non ripetere errori commessi e guardare ad un futuro migliore: i giapponesi ogni anno fanno tesoro delle esperienze di Hiroshima e Nagasaki. Si può però anche ricordare una sconfitta per creare un mito: i serbi trovano nel massacro di Kosovo Polje il loro mito fondativo. Si può creare un monumento ad hoc anche lontano dal luogo fisico in cui è avvenuto il fatto. Allo stesso modo è possibile distruggere un qualcosa del gruppo avverso: a Mostar i croati hanno bombardato lo Stari Most, testimonianza del passaggio ottomano in Bosnia e simbolo della città erzegovese. 3. "Le nuove guerre" e il ruolo dell'etnia Il contesto delle "nuove guerre" (Kaldor, 1999), è quindi terreno di coltura per questo tipo di conflitti, manifestatisi soprattutto successivamente alla caduta del Muro di Berlino. Attori deputati a poter dichiarare guerra nei confronti di attori di pari grado. Lo scenario disegnato da Kaldor è decentralizzato e disordinato a causa della fine dell'era dei blocchi contrapposti. Contemporaneamente lo stato nazione non solo è meno forte fuori dei propri confini, ma anche internamente ha subito e sta subendo un processo di progressiva erosione dei propri poteri coercitivi e di prevenzione delle minacce interne. Secondo alcuni autori, tra cui W. Pfaff (1993), la fine del mondo diviso in blocchi ha fatto sì che finissero i conflitti tra stati e nascessero quelli tra gruppi divisi da identità e modelli di vita inconciliabili. Le divisioni di oggi in azione sarebbero però decisamente più violente di quelle espresse nella prima modernità in quanto le identità astratte e laiche della cittadinanza statale tendono ad essere sostituite da altre di natura culturale, religiosa ed etnica tra le quali è più difficoltoso il compromesso (Maniscalco, 2008), dando vita ad un ambiente neo-barbarico. Va qui ricordato anche Huntington (1997), con la sua teoria dello scontro delle civiltà, "secondo la quale i conflitti successivi alla guerra fredda si spiegano in termini di divergenze culturali piuttosto che ideologiche o economiche; più che particolari stati, esse tendono ad interessare coalizioni di stati omogenei tra loro rispetto alle 'civilizzazioni' di appartenenza" (Maniscalco, 2008, p. 29). Secondo Kaldor siamo quindi in presenza di conflitti intrastatali che però differiscono dalle guerre civili dell'epoca pre-1989. Le differenze si riscontrano negli scopi, nei metodi di combattimento (guerriglia per eliminare l'altro), per la tipologia delle unità di combattenti (privatizzazione dei corpi) e nei metodi di finanziamento (ottenuto con attività malavitose). Questi conflitti vengono infatti combattuti sulla base di etichette etniche, in cui una nuova politica dell'identità, fondata su un comunitarismo esclusivo, annulla le politiche inclusive statali. L'etnia, in questo rinnovato quadro, diviene quindi l'attore principale intorno al quale poter sviluppare il gruppo di riferimento nei conflitti intrastatali. Questi conflitti, come ricordato, si basano su etichette che vengono affibbiate da un gruppo all'altro: si diviene gruppo per creazione autonoma o per esclusione da un determinato contesto. La lingua (in moltissimi casi si dovrebbe parlare di dialetti), la religione, il clan, i tratti somatici, una storia condivisa, sono gli elementi che fanno sì che il gruppo tracci un confine in-out netto e non valicabile. L'esclusione, più che l'inclusione, è il fattore che determina l'appartenenza. 4. I Beni Culturali nelle "nuove guerre": gli spazi interstiziali, sospesi e marginali. I Beni Culturali assumono un ruolo determinante all'interno dei conflitti sopra descritti, per vari motivi tra loro collegati. Anzitutto, il bene culturale, come abbiamo detto all'inizio, è traccia della memoria del gruppo etnico ed anzi viene accettato, creato, ricreato, protetto dal gruppo stesso proprio per dare delle basi comuni a tutti gli appartenenti della formazione sociale. Il bene culturale è testimonianza del passato, emblema dell'esistenza/persistenza presente e segno di continuità protesa al futuro. Può provenire dal passato, come nel caso dello Stari Most (1555) che riconduce direttamente al passaggio ottomano nell'area. Oppure può essere creato nel presente per ricordare il passato (antico o recente) e proiettarlo nel futuro. Rimanendo nell'ex-Jugoslavia possiamo pensare alla Torre di Gazimestan, un luogo spoglio e dal basso significato artistico e architettonico, ma situato nella Piana dei Merli laddove i serbi furono sconfitti dagli ottomani nel 1389, data da cui i serbi fanno partire la fondazione delle proprie radici comuni. L'intreccio Arte-Storia-Memoria si esplica quindi in un rapporto triangolare e paritetico, in cui i tre elementi si danno forza l'uno con l'altro. La Storia può essere selezionata per meglio indirizzare la Memoria nel senso halbwachsiano. L'Arte può diventare il campo di applicazione visiva ed emotiva del triangolo suddetto. L'opera artistica però è situata in luoghi ben precisi, sia momentanei (mostre) sia stabili (opere monumentali) e questi luoghi sono configurabili quindi come spazi determinati, riconoscibili e soprattutto riconosciuti dai gruppi chiamati al loro utilizzo. In questo caso siamo di fronte a quelli che qui definiamo come "spazi intensivi". Prima però di arrivare agli spazi intensivi, necessitiamo di riflettere sulle altre categorie dello spazio. Il problema dello spazio è stato quindi oggetto, da parte della letteratura sociologica, di intense elaborazioni e revisioni. Già Simmel, nel suo Lo spazio e gli ordinamenti spaziali della società, sottolineava sin da subito la natura multiforme dello spazio, in quanto unione di elementi psichici e di intuizioni dell'anima: Nell'esigenza di funzioni specificatamente psichiche per le particolari configurazioni storiche dello spazio si riflette il fatto che lo spazio è soltanto un'attività dell'anima, è soltanto il modo umano di collegare in visioni unitarie affezioni sensibili in sé slegate (Simmel, 1998, p. 524). Siamo allora di fronte ad una realtà composta da tanti "spazi particolari" che, come ci dice Emanuele Rossi (2006), "potremmo definire come spazi sospesi, i quali, pur differenziandosi nella loro strutturazione (…) e nelle loro finalità, si presentano sociologicamente interessanti soprattutto per ciò che contengono, per le forme di relazione e di convivenza che sono in grado di ospitare, di produrre o semplicemente di annullare" (p. 9). Per fare ciò "abbiamo bisogno quindi di re-imparare ad osservare e ad interpretare lo spazio, di riconoscere allo spazio e alle diverse forme che di volta in volta è in grado di assumere, la funzione di strumento di lettura privilegiato di tutte le cose, vero e proprio deposito a cui è necessario attingere per comprendere in modo qualitativo il gioco incessante delle passioni, degli entusiasmi, degli antagonismi, così come dei tormenti e delle sofferenze che da sempre caratterizzano gli esseri umani; ma per far ciò bisogna saper di nuovo lasciare spazio all'immaginazione e soprattutto non ridurre gli spazi a semplici rapporti geometrici (.)" (Ivi, p. 15). E' solo in questo modo che è possibile quindi scoprire, mediante "una speciale lente sociologica, individuata nel concetto di sospensione" (Ivi, p. 9), alcuni di questi "spazi particolari", in cui è possibile sospendere il normale corso degli eventi. Siamo quindi in grado di determinare diverse declinazioni di questi "spazi sospesi": "spazi interstiziali", "di margine", "di consumo". Qui ci interesseremo in particolar modo dei primi due, per il loro diretto collegamento con l'idea di "spazio intensivo". Il concetto di "interstizio", esaminato da Gasparini (2002), è di difficile e complessa collocazione ed anzi lo stesso autore dubita che si possa parlare di vero e proprio concetto. È altrettanto vero però che l'interstizio riesce "ad illuminare una serie di fenomeni specifici della vita quotidiana", divenendo "il tramite, la cerniera, la porta, il ponte o il guado che consente il passaggio verso altri sistemi organici di significati". Già Simmel (1998) aveva però evidenziato, sempre nel suo Lo spazio e gli ordinamenti spaziali della società, lo "stare fra" (p. 523) come funzione sociologica. Lo spazio infatti è una "forma priva di qualsiasi efficacia che, però, proprio in quella naturale situazione dello stare fra, può svolgere quella fondamentale funzione di elemento necessario alla configurazione di tutte le cose, rendendo in tal modo effettivamente possibile lo strutturarsi di qualsiasi forma di interazione" (Rossi, 2006, p. 56). Il vivere in comune quindi si sostanzia all'interno di uno spazio comune e condiviso che viene continuamente svuotato e riempito dalle interazioni che si susseguono di volta in volta. È lo spazio interstiziale quindi quello in cui si creano le relazioni, un "terreno di incontro" tra individui e/o gruppi comunicanti. Un altro contributo interessante che riguarda lo "stare tra" è offerto da Henry Pross, che si è cimentato nell'elaborazione del concetto di "spazi intermedi". Per questo autore infatti qualunque forma spaziale è prodotta dal potere, che ne determina le configurazioni, i confini ed i limiti. Anche la costruzione di elementi fisici spaziali (palazzi, strade, accessi) sono una forma del potere vivente, ma accanto agli ordini che si susseguono in termini di spazio (superiore e inferiore) e di tempo (…) sono individuabili gli spazi e i tempi della transizione. Edifici, accessi, limiti sono le manifestazioni quotidiane di differenti ordini; ci sono però corridoi, angoli, differenze di altezze e di profondità, fuori dal controllo: per questo si configurano come spazi intermedi che procurano un senso di liberazione e di riparo dalla pressione dei tempi sociali (Pacelli, 2010, p.188). Anche in Pross è quindi possibile ravvisare quello "stare tra" simmeliano, come luogo di eventi sociologici reciproci continuamente in atto e che quindi senza sosta si creano, ricreano e rinnovano in un'arena sempre aperta ad una perpetua negoziazione di socialità o di socievolezza, per citare ancora Simmel. Tuttavia questo continuo muoversi tra "morire e divenire, e divenire e morire" fa sì che questi spazi intermedi, nonché quelli interstiziali, siano quindi contenitori ad "intermittenza", i quali vivono dell'intensità temporanea delle relazioni che vi insistono all'interno, quando coloro i quali li percorrono e vi sostano decidono di instaurare dei rapporti di socialità con gli altri. Sono spazi quindi senza storia e senza futuro, lontani dal "luogo antropologico" di Augè (1993), eppure capaci di accogliere la costruzione di nuovi simboli e di rituali che lì vengono messi in atto e permangono per poco tempo. Queste occasioni di breve intensità fanno sì che però vi si verifichino degli accumuli energetici, diventando, come intuì Simmel, dei "centri di rotazione" (1998, pp. 540-1) intorno ai quali "si sviluppano relazioni con forte carica emotiva" (Rossi, 2006, p. 64). In altri termini, siamo in presenza di uno spazio non identitario, a relazionalità forte soltanto in alcuni momenti e su cui non si radicano forme fisse data la continua transizione di soggetti che vi transitano all'interno. Un'altra tipologia di spazio di forte interesse è quella rappresentata dagli "spazi di margine". Per andare a trovare queste forme spaziali bisogna anzitutto risalire ai luoghi che ogni giorno sperimentiamo nelle nostre esistenze. Bauman (2006, p. 116) osserva come nelle nostre società contemporanee lo spazio sociale tende a formarsi prevalentemente sulla base di ciò che egli definisce proteofobia, ovvero la paura della diversità. Questa paura fa sì che all'interno delle nostre "mappe mentali" si vengano a creare dei "buchi" creati volontariamente al fine di distinguere ciò che attraversiamo necessariamente e ciò che altrettanto volontariamente escludiamo in un tentativo di razionalizzare e di dare maggiore importanza ai luoghi che viviamo ed in cui transitiamo, ci situiamo e ci relazioniamo quotidianamente. Il margine è quindi un qualcosa che è nello stesso momento all'interno ma anche all'esterno dell'ambiente percepito: interno per ubicazione ma esterno per quanto riguarda l'interezza delle relazioni sociali. Siamo quindi in presenza di uno spazio che viene inteso come un luogo di difesa, che serve per preservare e sottolineare la specificità del proprio ambiente: un modo per porre un "altro da sé", per sospendere alcune questioni scottanti ed infine per dare una collocazione a quelle "società a fianco" che risultano un qualcosa da nascondere alla vista. Ed è proprio in questi margini che coloro i quali vi sono confinati possono ricreare zone di sociazione, sfruttando quell'oscurità di cui gli spazi di margine sono creati proprio dall'ambiente "di maggioranza" circostante. Nell'"effervescenza sociale" (Rossi, 2006, p. 90) esistente dentro ai margini risiede l'interesse verso questi nuovi centri di creazione di simboli e di senso. In conclusione, gli spazi interstiziali e di margine risultano quindi essere delle forme sospese, non ben definite, volatili. Proprio per questa loro condizione di transitorietà sono però attraversati da momenti ad altissima intensità relazionale ed emozionale che ne determinano l'importanza per i suoi "abitanti". Nonostante la loro posizione defilata gli "spazi particolari" rimangono sempre in contatto con lo spazio principale, proprio perché sono prodotti da questo o perché sono popolati da coloro i quali in esso non devono risiedere o al massimo possono sostarvi/transitarvi per pochi, innocui, attimi. 5. Una nuova categoria concettuale: lo "spazio intensivo" Lo spazio intensivo si configura come una forma spaziale che sicuramente trae alcuni elementi dagli spazi descritti precedentemente, ma al contempo ne scarta alcuni fattori per accoglierne altri. Lo spazio intensivo è la "residenza" del bene culturale attorno al quale i gruppi si riuniscono, caricando di emotività e di senso il luogo/bene prescelto. Anzitutto, come ci ricorda Maurice Halbwachs (1987, pp. 135- 42), c'è una piena identificazione del gruppo con il luogo ed anzi la "fisicità" del bene culturale descrive, arricchisce e dà sostanza al luogo stesso. Luogo e bene culturale agiscono simultaneamente, dato che l'uno non può esistere senza l'altro. Il bene culturale diviene tale proprio perché è situato e sussiste in un dato luogo, che può essere, ad esempio, teatro di rivendicazioni territoriali (come nel caso della Torre di Gazimestan nella Piana dei Merli in Serbia). Il luogo invece diventa rilevante, unico e "degno" di riconoscibilità proprio per la presenza del bene culturale. Tuttavia, non basta la presenza del bene culturale per dotare di intensività lo spazio. Altri fattori diventano determinanti. Anzitutto, rispetto agli spazi interstiziali e a quelli di margine, lo spazio intensivo è anch'esso uno spazio "sospeso", laddove la ritualità che vi insiste è frutto di momenti di richiamo politico/religioso collettivo. In confronto allo spazio interstiziale, lo spazio intensivo ne condivide la condizione di "stare fra": spesso infatti lo spazio intensivo sta fra due gruppi in conflitto ed anzi segna il confine di uno rispetto all'altro. Può essere un confine sia fisico (quando ad esempio viene ricoperto d'importanza il limite dello stato) o simbolico/religioso, quando per esempio prendiamo come punto di analisi un luogo di culto, in cui accede solo chi condivide la medesima fede. È inoltre un terreno d'incontri, tra gruppi diversi ma molto più spesso tra appartenenti ad uno stesso gruppo. Di certo al suo interno possiamo trovare quella intermittenza interazionale che fa sì che lo spazio intensivo "viva" in determinati momenti: le celebrazioni, le ricorrenze, gli anniversari, una funzione religiosa. Al pari degli "spazi intermedi", lo spazio intensivo può fungere da temporanea via dalle strutture del potere, anche se è una funzione diretta del potere. All'interno dello spazio intensivo infatti il forte coinvolgimento emozionale fa sì che si vada oltre ai sentimenti tipicamente nazionalisti o di identificazione con lo spazio medesimo. Quando si fa pratica di qualche rito o cerimonia (religiosa e/o civile) all'interno dello spazio intensivo, si trascende la dimensione puramente politica o religiosa per anelare ad un obiettivo per l'appunto trascendentale, immanente. L'appello per esempio di un leader nazionalista diventa destino di un popolo, la terrena funzione religiosa invece si trasforma in appuntamento con l'infinito. Di certo, come abbiamo visto in Simmel, lo spazio intensivo è un "centro di rotazione", dato l'alto investimento emozionale che su questo fanno gli appartenenti ai gruppi. Oltre a ciò, lo spazio intensivo può essere paragonato anche agli spazi di margine. Al pari di questi infatti lo spazio intensivo può crearsi come ghettizzazione di una minoranza all'interno di un luogo che diviene poi il nucleo di rivendicazioni della minoranza stessa. La differenza principale dello spazio intensivo rispetto agli altri "spazi particolari" risiede nel contrasto tra fissità ed intermittenza. Mentre gli spazi di margine e interstiziale rimangono comunque delle zone di transito senza una storia, un passato o un futuro, lo spazio intensivo, nonostante la transitorietà dei suoi eventi, è sempre presente. È uno sfondo che può essere riattivato socialmente, politicamente o religiosamente in ogni istante. È uno spazio in cui la narrazione riparte sempre dal punto in cui era stata interrotta e all'interno del quale la stessa narrazione non viene continuamente rinegoziata ma parte da punti fissi nella memoria e nella storia del gruppo. Possiamo parlare quindi di una "intermittenza stabile", dove "stabile" può essere declinato in due modi: anzitutto perché è un'intermittenza che si ripete ad intervalli di tempi regolari (dodici mesi per gli anniversari civili, sette giorni per la maggior parte delle funzioni religiose); in secondo luogo perché vi è una stabilità ripetitiva e certa dei contenuti non negoziabili che vengono ogni volta riscoperti, riaffermati e, se possibile, ancora più arricchiti nella loro funzione simbolica e distintiva. Si tratta quindi di spazi in cui la storia, il mito, il rito, il simbolo, hanno un alto impatto e sono costitutivi dello spazio stesso. Siamo in un campo molto vicino a quello che conosciamo come "luogo antropologico". Marc Augè (1993) ha proposto per primo questo concetto. Il "luogo antropologico è simultaneamente principio di senso per coloro che l'abitano e per colui che l'osserva". Il luogo antropologico diventa così una parte importante nell'elaborazione delle identità personali e nelle relazioni tra membri del medesimo gruppo, dato che coloro che vi "nascono all'interno (…) hanno la possibilità di sviluppare con questo un rapporto esclusivo" (Rossi, 2006, p.101) in cui le stesse relazioni reciproche interne diventano circoscritte e realizzabili solo da chi vive quel luogo. Allo stesso tempo il luogo antropologico possiede anche un carattere storico proprio perché la dimensione relazionale ed esclusiva è inoltre ripetitiva e costituisce una garanzia di stabilità ai membri appartenenti. Queste qualità, unite al fatto che per la memoria il luogo essendo l'elemento sensibilmente più visibile, dispiega abitualmente una forma associativa più forte che non il tempo (…), proprio lo spazio si collega (.) inscindibilmente (…) nella memoria e (.) il luogo continua a rimanere il centro di rotazione intorno al quale il ritorno avviluppa gli individui in una correlazione ora diventata ideale (Simmel, 1998, p.540). Questa unione di luogo antropologico e "centro di rotazione" a forte carica emotiva fa sì che lo spazio diventi quindi "intensivo" nel senso delle relazioni che vanno ad inserirsi all'interno di quest'ultimo. 6. Conclusioni La situazione così descritta è quindi immediatamente ricollegabile all'importanza che i beni culturali rivestono all'interno dei nuovi conflitti del Ventunesimo secolo. Il ruolo determinante che questi luoghi "intensivi" hanno nell'unire il gruppo etnico di riferimento, riprendendo Smith (1984), sotto i punti di vista dei miti, delle storie e dei simboli condivisi, rende immediatamente determinante la posizione delle dispute attorno ai beni culturali. Tali beni possono essere quindi visti, come detto all'inizio, alla stregua di un "riassunto delle dimensioni più ordinarie e più straordinarie, di eterni contrasti, di lotte tra valori" (Toscano, 2008, p. 31). Non si può trascendere da essi ed anzi il gruppo etnico ne richiede l'esistenza, come riserve di memoria e di coesione univoca. Proprio però per questo ruolo determinante e così tanto identificante, è possibile, allo stesso tempo, rovesciare questa natura "polemizzante" per renderla invece dialogante: l'avvicinamento tra culture e gruppi diversi può avvenire solamente riconoscendo ed apprezzando l'unicità dell'altro. È per questo motivo quindi che, attorno al bene culturale, si sviluppa una duplice energia che gli attori sul campo devono saper ben indirizzare.

Pınar Bilgin on Non-Western IR, Hybridity, and the One-Toothed Monster called Civilization





Questions of civilization underpin much of IR scholarship—whether explicitly (in terms of the construction of non-Western 'others') or implicitly (in the assumption that provincial institutions from Europe constitute a universal model of how we ought to relate to one another in international politics). While this topic surfaces frequently in debates about postcolonial international politics, few scholars are able to tackle this conundrum with the same sense of acuteness as Pınar Bilgin. In this Talk, she—amongst others—elaborates on not doing Turkish IR, what postsecular IR comprises, and discusses her own position in regards to that one-toothed monster called civilization.




Print version of this Talk (pdf)




What is, according to you, the biggest challenge / principal debate in current IR? What is your position or answer to this challenge / in this debate?



What I think is the biggest challenge in current IR is not so much a debate, but the difficulty for students of IR to come up with ways of making sense of the world in a way that appreciates different experiences and sensibilities and others' contributions and contestations. International Relations as we know it at the moment and as offered in the standard textbooks, portrays a world that they really don't recognize as the world that they live in. And I should point out that I am not just speaking of Non-Western experiences and sensibilities—there is in any case a growing body of literature on Non-Western IR, and you have spoken to Amitav Acharya (Theory Talk #42), Siba Grovogui (Theory Talk #57) and others—but I am also referring to all those perspectives in which international knowledge are presented and which the textbooks do not usually reflect, including feminist perspectives for instance (such as Ann Tickner, Theory Talk #54), or perspectives from the Global South some of which actually fall into the definition of 'the West'. So when I speak of ways of making sense of the world in a way that appreciates different experiences and sensibilities, I am referring to the agenda of Critical Theory of IR. I do think we have come a long way since the early 1990s when I was a student of IR and Critical Theory was beginning to make its mark then, but we still have a long way to go. For instance, critical approaches to security have come a long way in terms of considering insecurities of specific social groups that mainstream approaches overlook, but it has a long way to go still in terms of actually incorporating insecurities as viewed by those people, instead of just explaining them away. 



As for the principal debate in IR, the debate that goes on in my mind is how to study IR in a way that appreciates different experiences and sensibilities and acknowledges other contributions as well as contestations. This is not the principal debate in the field, but the field that comes closest is the one that I try and contribute to, and that is the field of non-Western approaches to IR. It is not exactly a debate, of course, in the sense that the very mainstream Western approaches that it targets are not paying any attention. So it's the critics themselves who have their disagreements, and on the one hand there are those who point to other ways of thinking about the international, Stephen Chan comes to mind as the producer of one of the early examples of that. I can think of Robbie Shilliam's more recent book on the subject, thinking about the international from non-Western perspectives. On the other hand are those who survey IR in different parts of the world, to see how it is done, what their concerns and debates are. Ole Waever, Arlene Tickner and David Blaney's three-volume series 'Worlding Beyond the West' contains materials from both these directions. 



My own approach is slightly different in that while acknowledging the limits of our approaches to IR as any critical IR person would, I don't necessarily think that turning to others' 'authentic' perspectives to look for different ways of thinking about the international is the way forward for students of IR. That brings me to back the way I set up the challenge to IR today: it is about incorporating others' perspectives, as well as acknowledging their contributions and contestations. I think I would like to take a more historical approach to this. It's not just about contemporary differences—studies on these are very valuable and I learn a lot from them—but what I've also found very valuable are connections: how much give and take has already taken place over the years, how for instance the roots of human rights can be found in multiple places in our history and in different parts of the world, how the Human Rights Convention was penned by multiple actors, how human rights norms don't go deep enough and how calls for deepening them have in fact emerged from different parts of the world, not just the West. So these contributions can actually point to our history and to different perspectives across the globe, but these are often referred to as non-Western IR, whereas they're actually pointing to our conversations, our communication, the give and take between us. That is what I am mainly interested in at the moment: the multiple authorship of ideas, and pointing to them you actually face the biggest challenge. It builds on Edward Said's legacy, so it's a critical IR project, the way I see it: Said built on multiple beginnings and engaged in contrapuntal reading. I should add that when I am talking about 'sensibilities', I am not necessarily talking about it with reference to other parts of the world, although it may seem this way. The more reflexive approaches to IR have taught us that we are all shaped by and all respond to our contexts—in one way or another.



One interesting result of Arlene Tickner's and Ole Waever's book, International Relations Scholarship around the World, was that IR in different parts of the world is not in fact that different: it is still state-centric, it talks about security in the way that most mainstream textbooks would talk about it, and IR courses are structured in such a way that you would be able to recognize in most parts of the world. Such surveys, therefore, tell us that IR works quite similarly in other parts of the world. Hence the need to look for difference in alternative sources and the need to look beyond IR—towards anthropology, sociology, linguistics, etc.—there is growing interest in conceptions of the international beyond what IR allows us. This is not confined to looking beyond the West, but is equally emerging in Western scholarship: there is now emerging literature on postsecularism and IR, and bringing religion back into the study of IR. However, I am not so much interested in studying differences (without underestimating the significance of such studies) but studying to our conversations, our communication, the give and take between us.





How did you arrive at where you currently are in IR?



My journey to this point has been through critical security studies. I studied international relations at Middle East Technical University in Ankara and did a Master's Degree Bilkent University in Ankara where I currently work. I was not entirely comfortable with IR as an undergraduate student, thought I could not quite put my finger on the reason why—though I was able to make sense of during my later studies. At the undergraduate level, I received an interdisciplinary training, not so much by design but rather by accident: I picked courses on political theory, economic history and political anthropology, simply because our curriculum allowed such a design. I was lucky to have interesting people teaching interesting courses. And again by sheer coincidence we had a visiting professor who introduced me to philosophy of science and the work of Thomas Kuhn and I began to question the standard IR training I had been receiving. So then I went on to an MA degree at Bilkent University which became consequential for me in two ways: for one, that University has the best IR library in Turkey, so there are no limits to what you can learn even when you are left to your own devices, and secondly, Hollis and Smith's Explaining and Understanding International Relations (1991) was on our reading list. So when I began reading that against the background of Thomas Kuhn, I began to make sense of IR in a very different way. Mind you, I was still not able to see my future in IR at that time. 



Then I began writing my MA dissertation and was also working at Turkey's then very powerful semi-military institution the MGK, the National Security Council, at the General Secretariat: I was hired as a junior researcher and lasted for about four-and-a-half months, and then I went abroad for further studies, but those months were what set me on my path to Critical Security Studies. Working there, I began to appreciate the need for reflexivity, and the difficult role of the researcher, and the relationship between theory and practice. At that point I received a Chevening scholarship from the British Council, and the condition attached was that I could not use it towards PhD studies but had to use it for a one-year degree. I decided to study something that I could not study at home, and came across Ken Booth's work ('Security and Emancipation,' 1991) and knew of course Barry Buzan's oeuvre (Theory Talk #35), and found that Aberystwyth University offered a one-year degree in Strategic Studies, which is what I decided to do. That happened to be the first year they offered an Master's degree in Critical Security Studies, and I became one of the first five students to take that course, taught jointly by Ken Booth, Richard Wyn Jones and Nicholas Wheeler. Together with Steve Smith, who was Head of Department at the time, they were committed to giving us an excellent education, so it was a great place to be and I stayed on to do my PhD there as well. It's a small Welsh town with only 13,000 people and the University has about the same number of students. During that time I read important examples of critical IR scholarship, as well as the newly emerging literature on Security Studies, and it was around that time that Michael Williams (Theory Talk #39) joined the Department and he was a great influence on my work, as was of course my dissertation advisor Ken Booth: I learned a lot from him in terms of substance and style. 



After receiving my PhD in the year 2000 I joined the IR department at Bilkent University as the only critical theorist there. Bilkent was at the time one of the few universities in Turkey committed to excellence in research—now there are more—and that allowed me the academic freedom to pursue my research interests in Critical Security Studies: I was able to focus on my work without having to spread out into other fields. It helped that I became part of research networks as well: I've already mentioned Arlene Tickner's and Ole Waever's work, their project on geocultural epistemologies in IR and 'Worlding beyong the West'. Ole Waever invited me to join, thus opening up my second research agenda since my PhD, enriched by workshops and conversations with scholars in the group. It is not far removed from my core work, but it is an added dimension. And this helped me over time to overcome my earlier doubts about IR, for I began to see just how multidisciplinary it was. It was only through Critical IR that I learned how parallel perspectives in other disciplines, and alternative ideas could be brought to bear on IR—something you also find nowadays in international political sociology or different aspects of anthropology in constructivism. 





What would a student need to become a specialist in IR or understand the world in a global way?



In terms of skills, I think that studying at different institutions if possible, different settings with different academic traditions helps a lot. Institutions vary widely in their emphasis—Bilkent for instance believes that the best teachers are those who do cutting-edge research. Others may disagree and say that small teaching colleges are the best, because they pass on what they specialise in. I think therefore that studying at different institutions is very good for students, whether it be within formal exchange frameworks or acquiring fellowships for study away, not to mention of course fieldwork, which offers new settings: every new environment is an important learning experience, even if the substance is not so useful and what you learn is not necessarily so significant. Secondly, some would suggest learning a different language is important, along with acquiring a foothold in area studies and comparative studies, and I agree with that. Thirdly, Stefano Guzzini talks about IR theory being what a student needs in terms of disposition and skills: he has this piece in the Journal of International Relations and Development (2001), where he makes the case specifically for would-be diplomats in Central and Eastern European countries that by learning theory, students would be equipped to communicate across cultural boundaries—it's like learning a new language. They would learn to watch out against ethnocentrism, he argues, and this is one of the pieces I use when I teach IR theory. In this spirit, I think it important to use theory as a new language, as one of the tools that every student should have in their toolkit. And finally, I think I'd follow Cynthia Enloe's (Theory Talk #48) recommendation that it's useful to have a foot both in IR theory and in comparative studies. I feel that one without the other is less rewarding, though one will not know what one is missing until one goes to explore. 



In my PhD work I focused on the Middle East, since then I have looked more in depth at Europe's relationship with the Euro-Mediterranean relations and Turkey-EU relations as empirical points of reference. This has been enriching and has benefited my research. In sum, it is essential to read as broadly as possible, and I give the same advice to my M.A. and to my PhD students. You can't read everything, and it can happen that the more we read the more confused we get, but in this Theory Talks is doing a great job by allowing students to learn from the experience of others. Learning happens also at conferences: you may find subjects that are of no interest to you, but that is helpful also, and on the other hand new subjects will broaden horizons. The wealth of cultural references in each part of the world can be baffling and may make it difficult to delve deep. The only way we make sense of the unknown through what we know. 





What regional or perhaps even global protagonism can you envisage for IR studies emerging from Turkey? Turkey is often perceived to bridge Europe and the Middle East, Europe and Asia, but we have the problem that Asia itself is a Western idea, then a 'bridge' is in danger of belonging to neither.



As I made clear in what I said above, I don't think of IR in terms of contributions emerging from this part of the world or that part of the world. And although I grew up in Turkey and began my academic career there, I don't consider my own work to be in any way a 'Turkish perspective' on IR. What can be said to be Turkish about my perspective is that I have to travel to Aberystwyth and Copenhagen and all those ISA conference locations to discover that I can have (and some say I should) have a Turkish perspective. My undergraduate education was about learning IR as a 'universally undisputed'. I now know the limitations of that universalism, but I cannot offer a specifically located perspective, for it is a complicated picture that emerges in front of us. I am not in favour of replacing one parochialism with another one, in terms of those who speak of X School of IR versus Y School of IR. 



Having said that, I consider that my contribution as being comfortable with what Orhan Pamuk has called the 'in-between world', though I prefer to use the term 'hybridity', not in-between-ness. That Turkish policy-makers have always claimed a bridge status for their country, but these ideas are rooted in Turkey's hybridity and belonging to multiple worlds (as opposed to being in between multiple worlds). Policy-makers can talk about being a bridge between Europe and Asia, or Europe and the Middle East, because Turkey in fact belongs to all these worlds. So in some ways being at ease with this hybridity does allow me to have a particular perspective in IR that I may not have had if I had come from a different background. But then again, it's difficult to know. I have taken courses in political anthropology, learning about the Ottoman Empire and modern Turkey as an imagined community, but all my introductions to geocultural studies and epistemology came from Critical IR settings, so looking for geographically or culturally specific roots simply doesn't work. As Said put it, it is 'beginnings' that we should be looking for, not 'origins.' 





When Europeans and North Americans speak of 'state building' and 'development', Turkey is often taken as a model example of conversion to Western models—largely by its own choice. Should Turkey's path and modern reality be understood differently?



I am not comfortable with the word 'model', but 'example' may be a preferable term. So what is Turkey an example of? That has become a particular research question for me and I have written on this—Turkey's choice to locate itself in the West and what that means. Turkey is interesting for having decided to locate itself in the West, and this is where language and culture come in the picture. More often than not, the literature tends to assume that elites in places like Turkey would make the decision to adopt the 'Western model', and the rationale for adopting that model is not questioned, but instead taken to be 'obvious' from development theory and its teleological outlook: 'it just happened'. It is those that do not adopt the dominant model, those that decide against Westernization, that need explaining. Perhaps I would not have asked myself that question, had I not—and here my biography comes into the picture—been puzzled by references to 'civilization' in Turkish texts. If you look into Turkish literature or historical documents you will find references to 'civilization' everywhere—the national anthem refers to civilization as a 'one-toothed monster called civilization'. As a young student, I just couldn't make sense of this and wondered why is everyone talking about civilization and why is it a good and a difficult thing at the same time? 



I began to make sense of this as I was researching Turkey's choices about secularism in the late 19th and early 20th century, and was looking at some of those documents once again, but this time with insights provided by postcolonial IR. The language commonly used was 'joining' the West, and secularisation was a part of the package, but it was not necessarily a question of mere emulation but search for security, being a part of the 'international society'. These were not easy decisions, so here I look at Turkey's choice to locate itself in the West within the security context. There was a notion of a 'standard of civilization' in Europe and the West more broadly which others were expected to 'live up to', and this gives you some sense of the ubiquity of the references to civilization in the discourses of Turkish policy makers at the time. I am not suggesting that this is the whole answer, and I do not reject distinct answers, but I do think it helps understand Turkey's decision to locate itself in the West in the early 20th century. So this is where my security aspects of my work and Critical IR together. My starting point is to identify the ubiquity of one notion and then locate that within critical IR theory. Turkey becomes an example of postcolonial insecurities. Though never having been colonized it nonetheless exhibits those 'postcolonial anxieties' in Sankaran Krishna's words.  



I am keenly aware of the reality that even when we as academics are doing our most theoretical and abstract work, we are never removed from the roles of the 'real world', for we are teachers at the same time: by the time we put our ideas to paper we have already disseminated them through our teaching. Some of us are more committed to teaching than others, of course, but some critical theorists see the most important part of their job as being good educators and training the new generation, as opposed to being more public intellectuals and writing op-ed pieces and talking to bigger audiences. We are therefore never far removed from the world of practice and from disseminating our ideas about security and international relations, because we are teachers, and some of our students will go on to work in the real world institutions, like government or the media. 



Beyond that, there is a growing vitality in the literature on the privatisation of security: on private armies and how security is being privatised and fielded out to professionals. The new literature that is emerging on this is more and more interesting, I am thinking for instance of Anna Leander's work here: she talks about privatization of security not only in terms of the involvement of private professionals going off to do what government or other actors tell them to do, but also in terms of the setting up of security agendas and shaping security, determining what threats are, and determining what risks are and quite literally how we should be leading our lives. In this sense theory and critical security studies have become very real for all of us, because no one group of people owns the definitions.



Currently I am working on a manuscript that brings together two of my research interests, conceptions of the international beyond the West and Critical Security Studies. I use the case of Turkey for purposes of illustration but also for insight. I am trying to think of ways of studying security that are attentive to the periphery's conceptions of the international as a source of (non-material) insecurity. 





Pınar Bilgin is the author of Regional Security in the Middle East: a Critical Perspective (Routledge, 2005) and over 50 papers. She is an Associate Member of the Turkish Academy of Sciences. She received the Young Scientists Incentive Award of the Scientific and Technical Research Council of Turkey (TÜBITAK) in 2009 and 'Young Scientist' (GEBIP) award of Turkish Academy of Sciences (TÜBA, 2008). She served as the President of Central and East European International Studies Association (CEEISA), and chair of International Political Sociology Section of ISA. She is a Member of the Steering Committee of Standing Group on International Relations (SGIR) and an Associate Editor of International Political Sociology. 





Related links





Faculty Profile at Bilkent University
Read Bilgin's Thinking Past 'Western' IR? (2008) here (pdf)
Read Bilgin's A Return to 'Civilisational Geopolitics' in the Mediterranean? Changing Geopolitical Images of the European Union and Turkey in the Post-Cold War Era (2004) here (pdf)
Read Bilgin's Whose 'Middle East'? Geopolitical Inventions and Practices of Security (2004) here (pdf)
Read Bilgin's and A.D. Morton's Historicising representations of 'Failed States': beyong the cold-war annexation of the social sciences? (2002) here (pdf)

Print version of this Talk (pdf)