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Many high schools offer students the opportunity to take advanced placement (AP) courses in many subjects including science and mathematics. Studies have shown that students who take these classes are more likely to succeed in college and that failure in engineering education is strongly correlated to deficiencies in mathematics and science. This article presents the background of AP classes and their impact on science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM) career choices of college students. The results of this study confirm that students who take AP classes in calculus and the sciences are more likely to select majors in careers such as engineering, science, mathematics, and the medical field. In this study, both minority and nonminority students who were taking AP calculus and/or science courses in high school selected STEM careers at a higher rate than other careers and males selected engineering at a higher rate than females. Females selected science and mathematics and the medical field at a higher rate than males. Furthermore, the size and location of the high school, profession of parents, and socioeconomic level of parents all affect the number of AP classes offered in high schools as well as which ethnic groups primarily take them.

Militantism is generally only thought of as a subset of the study of partisanship & unions, contexts where political participation is understood as something conventional. In the 1990s, however, there has been more focus on militant approaches, & articles in current issue of the Revue Francaise de Science Politique all center on the issue of social agency. Militant organizations are less an object of study in these papers & more a place for observing a collection of individual actions, with the organization seen merely as the result of a punctual equilibrium resulting from the coexistence of individuals whose presence there stems from different backgrounds & different contexts. Contributions are introduced. D. Weibel

For most of the past decade, Central America has been wracked by revolution, counterrevolution, military repression, and massive dislocation that have affected the lives of millions of people. Yet despite these dramatic events, little anthropological research has been directed toward Central America in the 1980s. Analysis of the contents of seven major cultural anthropology journals from 1980 to 1986 shows no increased attention to the area over a previous period, 1970 to 1976. Research published in the 1980s has been emphatically non-policy-based, even when fieldwork was conducted in the midst of crisis. This research report will analyze the underrepresentation of Central America in anthropology journals and possible reasons for it. I will suggest that the reticence of anthropology as a discipline to legitimate policy-based research in Central America stems from a tendency that has characterized the field since its beginnings: studying communities as isolated, timeless cultures that are unaffected by regional, national, and international events taking place outside their borders. This bias causes practitioners who wish to advance their careers to turn their backs on what may be considered controversial policy analysis and write instead about subjects endorsed by the discipline.

However, the professional challenges are apparently bigger than the difficulties journalists are confronted with. The dignity of the profession stems from its constant fight for freedoms, universal and professional. Worldwide there are almost daily major meetings at which the significance of the freedoms of the media is emphasised as well as the importance of journalists in their struggle against negative events of all kinds. Such journalists can no longer be universal ignoramuses, mere conduit for someone else's attitudes, obedient spokespersons for other people's ideas, reporters who have elevated self-censorship to perfection. Such journalism still exists, deeply-rooted, difficult to eradicate, but young people - at least at the start of their careers - do not even think to take pa in such journalism. Investigative journalism, fighting for the truth, promotion of progressive ideas, revealing the weaknesses of the powerful and empowering the weak - these are the attributes of the kind of journalism that young people prefer. They belong to a new, globalised world, in which several states. + Professional standards are the best and - with a little help o ethics - the most efficient obstacle for manipulation. Professional standards are provided by good-quality education. (SOI : PM: S. 221; 227f.) + Mass media today are an unavoidable part of life of contemporary civilization. Central to the information system of the mass media are journalists as the key "producers" of information. Their working methods have changed under pressure from state-of-the-art technological advances that have facilitated the functioning of the mass media. In the 1960s, journalists began their careers with a notepad and a pencil, and they are going to retire by using PCs, satellite communication, digital cameras, and electronic data bases. With time, journalists have become educated experts who continually broaden their knowledge and professional training. That is why permanent in-service training is a must for their future since educated journalists are the most effective barrier to mampulations. A Croatian survey has shown that Croatian journalists are very interested in permanent education. + The journalist profession is becoming more respectable in the world and in Croatia. "By all the conventional indicators, national journalists are solidly upper-middle-class. All but a small handful of older men and women are college graduates, and many have postgraduate degrees. Newsmagazine journalists still are educated primarily at the Ivy League schools or equivalent private universities in other parts of the country; even most television journalists, some of whom grew up in lower- middle-class homes, have attended quality schools." In Croatia young people also want to get a solid college education. The number of applicants for the department of journalism at the Faculty of Political Science in 1998 is very telling: there were eleven applicants for each successful candidate! The conclusion is obvious; young people are interested in journalism, want to get a diploma and in the process to acquire the skills and the knowledge necessary for today's journalists. Journalism is no longer a profession that evokes images of false attractions, or that lures young people with romantic delusions about travels, big money, easy life, jet-set frolics, and so on. Young people have lost their illusions regarding this, since every day they hear news about the prosecution of journalists, violation of their rights, pressures endured and restrictions of their freedoms. Isn't it frightening that nineteen journalists were killed in 1998 while doing their job, the information disclosed by the organisation Reporters without frontiers? Aren't more than five hundred legal actions against Croatian journalists a sufficiently clear portent for young people how thorny the path they have embarked upon is?

Many individuals are grappling with the issue of whether to provide workers with training that upgrades the workers' basic academic skills. The corollary questions that flow from this issue are how to provide the training, how much training should be provided, and who should pay for the training. Workers are interested in this issue because they want to sustain productive, well-paying careers that will support adequate standards of living. Not receiving training may jeopardize their careers and earning power. Employers are interested in this issue because their economic role is to maximize corporate profits for stockholders. In most companies, worker productivity is the most important factor in determining output levels and profitability. Public policy makers are interested in the issue because if productive workers lose their jobs, the public may end up supporting them through income maintenance payments and financing job searches through the employment service. On the other hand, if basic skills-deficient workers get training and keep their jobs, they will continue to pay taxes that support government activities. Educators are interested in the issue because they want to improve the educational system to reduce future basic skill deficiencies and because they may be involved in the upgrading of current workers. The question that is at the core of this issue is easy to state. What should an employer do about a factor of production, be it physical capital such as a plant or machine or be it human capital, that has become unprofitable? For human capital, that is, skills and knowledge, the lack of profitability may stem from the fact that the worker's basic skills were never adequate or it may be the case that technology or workplace demands have surpassed the worker's skill levels. For both physical and human capital, the choices that employers face are limited. They can invest in upgrading the factor of production; they can continue to employ the factor and bear the losses; (Note: I am using the economic cost concept of opportunity costs. A basic skills deficient worker may be paid $8.00 an hour and be productive enough to produce $8.50 worth of product per hour. However, a trained employee or a younger employee may be willing to work for $8.00 an hour and be able to produce $10.00 worth of product. The opportunity cost of not training the worker would be $1.50 per hour even though the firm would not be losing money on the worker.) or they can replace the factor. From an economic and business management theoretical point of view, the answer is easy. Employers should choose the option that maximizes their rate of return. That is, they should choose the option where the difference between the (discounted) future benefits and the costs is the greatest. From a practical point of view, estimating the benefits and costs may be extremely difficult. Furthermore, it is undoubtedly the case that the best option will differ for different situations. There may be cases in which employers would reap large returns from modest investments in workplace literacy training. On the other hand, there may be cases in which employers would be better off by accepting the turnover and hiring costs of replacing workers. In short, it is impossible a priori to prove that it is to a firm's advantage to provide workplace literacy training. It, too, is impossible to prove a priori that it is to a firm's advantage to shed workers with basic skills deficiencies. From a public policy point of view, it should be recognized that society may benefit or bear costs from employers' decisions about inefficient or outmoded factors of production. Thus it may be the case that from a firm's profit-maximizing perspective, it is not advantageous to provide workplace literacy training. But from the rest of society's perspective, provision of the training, is beneficial. In such cases, public policy should facilitate financial subsidies to firms. The purpose of this paper is to present these arguments theoretically to identify the key factors that influence the employer's and society's choices; to discuss some empirical evidence from earlier studies about the payoff to individuals and firms; and to provide policy recommendations.

AbstractWhat occupies us in this volume is how women at all social levels devise their own coping mechanisms to deal with the impact of externally imposed pressures. Their stories reflect the creative solutions with which they have come to terms with some of the resulting problems, but always in a very personal way and without recourse to any form of collective action or organization. With a few exceptions, most of these women are still committed to traditional roles and the perception of obligations, even if the content of the role has changed. At least these "core" roles seem ideologically more resistant to change, such that there is a considerable lag between changing social conditions and the values underpinning them (cf. Goody, 1984). Apparently, it is only when women have become exposed, either through education, overseas travel or scholarly professions, that outside ("Western") notions of feminism and gender equality emerge. It is the highly unique and privileged upper middle class who agitate and raise the consciousness of their "deprived" sisters, and who also initiate women's organizations and support centres. If an awareness of womanhood for itself, a gender-as-class type of feminism has yet to surface in most of the societies of Southeast Asia, it is still legitimate to pursue the question of situation of women as a group-in-itself, as a potential action group. If we focus on the kinship system, as we have seen above, there is little in the ideology, distribution of resources and male-female relationships in traditional Southeast Asian practice (the immigrant Chinese here being something of an exception), to suggest an undue exploitation or oppression of women as a whole. In the domestic arrangements of most of them, a modus vivendi had been struck, an acceptance of role complementarily whether labelled the "myth of male dominance" (Rogers, 1975; Hirschon, 1984), or the false consciousness so readily perceived by many outsiders. Operating from the domestic core, women devise all manner of individual strategies to pursue their interests, influence their kin and turn events towards their chosen direction. Whether within or outside the household, such strategies are in the broadest sense political and can have substantial impact upon the male world (Collier, 1974). Commonly, women act or achieve their goals indirectly through men, particularly by the manipulation of husbands, brothers and sons, so that even the Chinese woman may eventually come into her own as a mother-in-law. In this collection of stories, Chat is the supreme example of this kind of successful manipulator. Satisfaction may even be had vicariously, as in Tok Nyam's pleasure in seeing her husband and sons make the pilgrimage to Mecca ahead of her. All of these women have managed to make, within their own small worlds, a choice of action between two or more options: Maimunah and Ah Ling opted for a non-traditional life of their own in the city, while Zainab chose to retreat from it and ease her family into compliance with her choice. The Singapore women's solutions to their working situation constantly result in a creative tension and some changes in the original Chinese family organization. For all the poverty of her family, even Yurni has been bold enough to spurn employment with and dependence on Ibu Ica, whom she dislikes, taking up alternative sharecropping and embroidery jobs instead. Rufina left Manila to marry the man of her own choosing, and in the most desperate of circumstances, devises a constant series of strategies of survival, while she and Tia Lilia are both victims of a system of rural proletarianization endemic in the Philippines. The deprivations of the latter two women stem, not from their position in a kinship, domestic or male-dominated system, but rather from the inequities of the wider society beyond them. In the case of the Muslim women in particular, some "interference" or even conflict emerges between the ideologies of their religion and kinship customs. In matrilineal Minangkabau society, Islam's main impact on Yurni has been in diverting the girls to an inferior or less modern type of education in favour of preparing the boys for a profession or other career. Islam moulded the sequence of Tok Nyam's divorce, remarriage and such important events in her life as the pilgrimage, but in no way prevented her from enjoying an active community life and the profits of her pandanus mat trade. Zainab happened to be growing up at a time when Islam was on the upswing in her social set and the immediate pressures of her social environment undoubtedly provided some coercive effect. Yet the final choice was still her own: Maimunah, living in the same time and place, charted a different path for herself. In the final analysis, it is probably to the world beyond the kin and family group that we must turn to seek the locus of the real inequities and the sources of oppression as they affect women, both in Southeast Asia and elsewhere. As noted above, the origins of most of the problems of the disadvantaged women of our collection lie in their overall class position, or in the political situation of their country. Rufina and Tia Lilia are the most dramatic examples here, and to a lesser degree, Yurni. In these cases, it must be recognized that the men, alongside the women, are also in positions of dependence and deprivation lacking the means to take control of their own lives and condition. It is a fallacy to assume that women represent an undifferentiated common interest group on the basis of their gender alone, for factors more powerful emerge on the backs of such distinctions as wealth, status, class, ethnicity and religion. Even the "advantages" of involvement in modern economic development, employment and education institutions are dependent upon these same distinctions, such that, for example, elite women may benefit more than those of lower status, as shown by Ibu Ica and Yurni, or women of one ethnic origin may be eligible for certain employment opportunities less available to those of other backgrounds for political reasons, as the urban careers of Maimunah, Zainab and Ah Ling illustrate. In the Philippines, it is to the destructive process of increasing rural proletarianization and poverty affecting the country as a whole that Rufina and Tia Lilia owe their pitiful existence, of which their menfolk are equally victims. Women in their own daily lives take cognisance of these various roles in devising strategies of action and charting paths to particular goals. None of this is quantifiable in any reliable way and to attempt to do so is to reduce the women actors to the anonymous shadow, dependent role occupants that most feminists would strenuously avoid. The alternative pursued here is the biographical method which allows us to present more of the individual richness of the situations of a small sample of selected women, as seen through their own eyes. In this exercise, the observer/biographers have deliberately refrained from passing judgment of a cultural, feminist or other variety, instead using the opportunity for interaction with their subjects to gain insights into both cultures through a process of defamiliarization and refamiliarization simultaneously.

Issue 61.4 of the Review for Religious, 2002. ; Identities Spirituality Community Living \ Profiling JULY AUGUST 2002 VOLUME 61 NUMBER 4 Review for Rellgious hdp people respond aria bkfa thful ~ ° ~ to God's ~niversal call to holiness ~ by making available to t~em the ~piH~l legades that flow~om the'charisms of CathoUdeOnsecrated life. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bimonthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone:314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ \Veh site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP Mount St. Mary's Seminary; Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See iuside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2002 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to COl)}, any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distrihu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious LIVING OUR CATHOLIC LEGACIES Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Adv#ory Board David L. Fleming SJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp James and Joan Felling Adrian Gaudin SC Sr. Raymond Marie Gerard FSP Eugene Hensell OSB Ernest E. Larkin OCarm Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ JULY AUGUST 2002 VOLUME 61 NUMBER 4 contents 342 feature Reciprocal Identities: Apostolic Life and Consecrated Life Patricia Wittberg sc oudines the role apostolic institutions had in shaping the identity of religious congregations in the past and describes the role of a person who would be responsible for catalyzing a congregation's reformulation of its apostolic identity in the absence of these institutions today. 352 364 spirituality Diocesan Priesthood: Discerning the Fire in Our Midst George Aschenbrenner SJ describes four steps that are part of a discerning life and three dimensions of the human stage on which the drama of a personal love-relationship with God is played. Desert Spirituality Ernest E. Larkin OCarm examines the ancient traditions of desert spirituality and contemplative prayer and proposes ways to adapt them to our times. for l~eligious 375 community living Three Forms of Community Living: A Survey Report Barbara Zajac makes a sociological survey of sisters in one religious community to explore how they define and create "community." 395 Expert Practitioners of Union: Forming, Living, and Sustaining Community Joel Giallanza CSC reviews the complexities involved in defining or describing religious community and suggests strategies to form and live and sustain community. 407 profiling Merton and the Enneagram: The Ritual Enactment of His Myth Suzanne Zuercher OSB examines Thomas Merton from his journals, considering him as an enneagram 4, his true self more acknowledged over the years, then anguished over, and ultimately embraced. 419 Liberal or Conservative: Temperaments and Faith Edward Krasevac OP proposes that awareness of temperamental affinities for liberal/conservative positions can give us a greater and sometimes much-needed sensitivity to what others are saying and give us at least a partial understanding of why we b~lieve what we believe. departments 340 Prisms 430 Canonical Counsel: Involuntary Departure 435 Book Reviews j~uly-Aug~tst 2002 prisms ~hen we say "We had an extraordinary time," for example, at a family reunion or at a church conference, we imply that the event was better than usual. The ordinary, by contrast, seems to be of negligible value. Ordinary means normal, hav-ing the implications of the usual routine. Often when we say that our time has been ordinary we signify that it has been just "more of the same." When the church makes use of the phrase ordi-nary time to describe a part of the liturgical year, we tend to .bring our everyday meaning to the phrase. We think of the routine of following one of the synoptic Gospel readings in weekday and in Sunday Eucharists. Church ordinary time seems not to emphasize cele-bration, just "more of the same." The church, how-ever, intends only to identify this part of the liturgical year as those weeks of the year proceeding in a long, numerical order (deriving from the Latin ordo) that are distinct from the holyday or holiday weeks iden-tified as Advent, Christmas, Lent, and Easter. And so there are some thirty weeks, liturgically, of "ordinary time" in every church year. But beyond the fact that ordinary time provides us with weeks in a numbered order, I believe that the church in her liturgy plants the seed that ordinary time is meant to be a time of wisdom. Wisdom might be described as "putting it all together," living an integrated life. For us Christians, wisdom means that we put our life together in the light of our being followers of Christ. The scrip-ture readings that flow through the Sunday and weekday read-ings for Mass and for the Liturgy of the Hours are both an inspiration for and a measurement of our living and acting as children of God. Jesus, as we see him living everyday life in the Gospels of ordinary time, remains the paradigm of what it means to be a human being, one created in the image and likeness of God. Being true God and true man, Jesus shares with us, through the Spirit, how to live our lives wisely in our own every-dayness as sons and daughters of God. We are baptized in Jesus' name; we are fed with his Body and Blood. The Son of God, Jesus, incarnate God--infinitely beyond Adam and Eve's mere creation in the image and like-ness of God--is our Brother. With him, we Christians experi-ence the new creation in his life, death, and resurrection. What our Scriptures in the church's ordinary time impress upon us is that we do not turn to the Gospels just for the high points of suffering or triumph or just for some code of rules. The Gospels are written to enter us into Jesus' wisdom way of living. Like St. Paul, we spend our lives trying to make it ever more true that "I live, now not I, but Christ lives in me." The church presents us ordinary Christians with a chal-lenging paradox. Ordinary time is wisdom time. Because we are being formed daily by the word of God and nourished by daily bread, we dare to say with Jesus: "Our Father." David L. Fleming SJ July-August 2002 feature PATRICIA WITTBERG Reciprocal Identities: Apostolic Life and Consecrated Life This year my congregation is celebrating its 150th anniversary. In special symposia and lectures, in liturgies and panel presentations, we have been encouraged to reflect about who ,we are as a community, who we have been--and who we will be. Since I have been researching relationship between religious congregations and their sponsored ministries, these events have spurred me to reflect on what it has meant--and what it will mean--that we are an apostolic congregation. I have, however, found it unexpectedly difficult to do this. How does our charism differ from that of an active monastic or evangelical order? In what way do our apostolates define who we are as a community, especially since very few of us still minister in the schools and hospitals we traditionally staffed? These are important questions to ask--and to continue asking--as we rearticulate our apostolic identity for the coming century. But I ,have come to believe that we lack an importfint kind of resource person who could facilitate our reflections. To the best Patricia Wittberg SC last wrote for us in September-October 2000. Her address is 2141 Dugan Drive; Indianapolis, Indiana 46260. Review for Religious of my knowledge, no religious congregation makes provision for such a person in its reflection processes. There is not even a name for her, so I will call her--however awkwardly--an Apostolic-Identity Catalyzer, or AIC for short2 In this paper I will first attempt to oudine the role apostolic institutions had in shaping the identity of religious congregations in the past. Next I will describe the kinds of activities an AIC might undertake to catalyze a congregation's reformulation of its apostolic identity in the absence of these institutions. Who We Were: Shaping a Reciprocal Identity Throughout their history, apostolic religious congregations have developed in an intimate dialectic with the institutions they created, staffed, and administered. On the one hand, Catholic hospitals, schools, and social-work agencies derived their religious identity primarily from the presence of religious congregations. Religious nurses, teachers, and social workers, all fully habited, served as living icons of the spiritual character of these institutions. As owners they also made the key decisions and policies. Their presence on the staff and in the administration meant that the culture of the congregation infused the entire institution. Without pointing to the congregation's presence, it would have been hard for a school or hospital to articulate what made it Catholic. Until the mid 1960s, however, the two were so intertwined that the question never even arose. In a similar manner, religious congregations derived their apostolic identity from the institutions they staffed. As Margaret Susan Thompson has pointed out in a previous issue of this journal,2 most U.S. women's apostolic congregations did not have a distinctive initial charism: rather, they have a "deep story" developed through years of lived experience. The distinctive identity of my own congregation was forged as sisters worked and lived together in our hospitals in Dayton and Albuquerque, Religious congregations derived their apostolic identity from the institutions they staffed. Wittber~ ¯ Reci~n'ocal Identities as they made bulletin boards together for our elementary schools in Detroit and Chicago, and as they cared for children in inner-city settlement houses and orphanages in Denver and Cincinnati. Young women got to know us through our ministries, and those attracted by our witness in these apostolates joined us. The congregation filled with new entrants who came expecting to perform institutional service, which further tied our apostolic identity to these works. Without citing the particular places where we served, it would have been difficult for many of us to articulate exactly what being an "apostolic" community meant. A Parallel: Mission-Effectiveness Offices in Catholic Institutions Most religious communities today have loosened, and some have completely severed, their ties with their institutions. Within their hospitals, colleges, and other agencies, this has led to some serious institutional soul-searching. Bereft of the iconic presence of the religious order, these institutions were in danger of losing their distinctive religious character. "Isomorphic" pressures from government regulations, professional associations, and economic competitors threatened to make them indistinguishable from other private schools or hospitals) The leaders of these organizations realized that retaining a distinct religious identity in the face of such pressures would require a deliberate effort. An institutional religious identity could not simply depend on the private spirituality the individual workers might bring to their jobs. Such spirituality was likely to remain private to each individual, since there are strong American cultural norms against sharing one's spirituality in the workplace. A school's, a hospital's, or a social agency's institutional religious identity had to be developed and shared in a way that would be transformative: grounding the daily operations of each department, underlying the administrative decisions, and spurring an ongoing, institution-wide search for new and creative ways to be a Catholic (or Jesuit or Vincentian) organization. Many religious hospitals, colleges, and other institutions, therefore, created special mission-effectiveness positions to address these goals. The person filling this role--often the last remaining member of the sponsoring congregation still in full- Review for Religious time ministry there--has typically been responsible for activities such as the following: ¯ orienting new staff and administrators to the charism or ethos of the sponsoring religious community (Jesuit scholarship, Vincentian caring, the spirit of Mercy); ¯ organizing periodic retreats and seminars for long-standing staff and administrators, in order to keep the spirit of the founding congregation fresh and alive; ¯ conducting various spiritual "leaven" activities: leading daily prayers over the public address system, organizing liturgies, providing short reflective prayers before meetings, disseminating newsletters or daily bulletins, erecting and maintaining religious iconography, and so forth; ¯ creating psychic and physical spaces where staff and administrators feel encouraged to share their spiritual journeys; ¯ estab-lishing awards for staff and administrators who most typify the founding spirit, and publicizing the winners of these awards; ¯ writing, updating, and promulgating the mission statement; ¯ raising ~ssues of mission and ethics at meetings of the board of trustees and other instances when key decisions are made; ¯ acting .as liaison with the sponsoring congregation, to help define what the implications of congregational sponsorship are for the institunon; ¯ serving as the religious-identity spokesperson to the media, overseeing public relations activities connected to the institution's religious identity. This is the ideal, of course. Many mission-effectiveness directors are marginalized, lacking any real input into the organization's decision making. A recent study found that "even in colleges that maintain the vice-presidential rank for the mission-effectiveness officer, there is no guarantee that the position will enjoy institutional prominence . Frequently the position operates on the .periphery of the college, resulting in compartmentalization rather than integration of mission concerns into daily senior-level academic or administrative decision making.''4 Mission statements may be mere words, Many mission-effectiveness directors are marginalized, lacking any real input into the organization's decision making. July-August 2002 PVi~tberg * Reciprocal Identities uncoupled from and alongside the day-to-day running of the institution. But at least the concept of mission effectiveness exists in our institutions, and we can readily articulate the kinds of activities such a position would involve. Apostolic-Identity Catalyzer: An Unknown (but Necessary) Role The same is not true for the position which I have termed the Apostolic-Identity Catalyzer. In fact, the apostolic congregations I know of do not have such a person. But, if mission-effectiveness offices are important for maintaining the religious identity of a school or hospital in the absence of its founding religious congregation, an apostolic-identity office should be equally important in helping maintain the apostolic identity of a religious congregation that is uncoupled from its institutions. In this section I will try to explain why I believe this to be so. When apostolic religious congregations withdrew from their institutions, they lost a key component of their former identity. Monastic and evangelical congregations, which had been inappropriately conformed to the apostolic model in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, could--and often did--simply revert to their original identities. But, to the extent that apostolic congregations had drawn their identity from their specific institutional works, they have had to devise a new articulation of who they are as a group and why they exist. "Isomorphic" pressures have also influenced this process. These pressures do not come from government regulations, professional standards, or economic pressures dictating what kind of identity an apostolic congregation should assume. Rather, they come from the ideals or "templates" current in the church and in society, which presume a primarily spiritual basis for the identity of religious groups. These spiritual foci commonly fill the void left by the loss of a congregation's institutional apostolate. Some apostolic communities have thus become more like small Christian communities, faith-sharing groups, or even parishes. The members minister in various locations and professions, pray privately every day, and meet regularly as a group for shared prayer and/or socializing: Other congregations Review for Religious have formed intentional communities that more closely approximate the monastic model: the members live and pray communally, but leave for separate ministries during the day. In either case, the conKregation begins to draw its identity more and more from the common spiritual activities of its members, and less and less from any common apostolic character. New entrants are attracted by the spirituality of the congregation, not by its distinctive common apostolates --which no longer exist. The metamorphosis continues. If apostolic religious life is to retain its distinctive identity, apostolic congregations must take deliberate steps to foster it. As with the religious identity of our former institutions, this will not happen automatically. Nor can we assume that our congregation is apostolic simply because we, as individual religious, give witness to God's love in our individual apostolates. (Surely all Christians are called to do that!) A congregation's apostolic identity must be transformative of the entire congregation, grounding the daily operations within the motherhouse, provincialates, and local houses, und.erlying the decisions of the council or leadership team, and spurring the community on its search for new and creative ways to be an apostolic congregation. This is where an apostolic-identity office would be useful. Since I know of no congregation that provides for such a role, the following list of suggested tasks is deliberately modeled on the activities which mission-effectiveness offices perform in our sponsored institutions. Within a given congregation, therefore, the AIC might be responsible for some or all of the following tasks: ¯ Orienting new members to the apostolic tradition of the congregation, as part of the formation program. This might include workshops or presentations, along with arranging visits to the former institutions and interviews with retired sisters who used to work there. ¯ Organizing periodic retreats and seminars for the professed and associate members of the congregation on the way(s) the congregation currently expresses its apostolic identity. This might include facilitating volunteer opportunities (whether single days throughout the year or six-week summer experiences) at some sites. Or theologians might be invited to community gatherings to discuss the various theologies of the interaction July-Augt*st 2002 Wittberg * Reciprocal Identities between spirituality and the apostolate. Or the clients served may be invited to give input on how they see the apostolic witness of the congregation and how it can be improved. ¯ Conducting various apostolic "leaven" activities within the congregation: circulating specially written prayers for specific apostolates and/or designating specific days of prayer for them; writing feature articles on the apostolates in the congregation's newsletter and/or disseminating a special newsletter on the apostolates; organizing the collection of money and goods; erecting and maintaining displays of apostolic artifacts at the motherhouse and elsewhere; initiating letter-writing campaigns to elected officials on apostolic issues; and so forth. ¯ Creating psychic and physical spaces where members are encouraged to share the insights, joys, and sorrows they have derived from their apostolates. The Daughters of Charity, with whom I currendy live, have a special monthly apostolic reflection wherein each member of the local house shares some incident from her ministry through which God has spoken to her that day. In a local house of another congregation where I once lived, we spent an afternoon and evening visiting each sister's work-place so that we could have a mental picture of the setting in which she spent a good part of her day. ¯ Establishing awards or other forms of recognition for individual members whose apostolic works witness to the character of the congregation, and publicizing these awards in the congregation and in the surrounding neighborhood or town or city. ¯ Leading reflections and other activities on the apostolic aspects of the congregation's mission statement (or facilitating the composition of such a statement if one does not currently exist). ¯ Raising issues of the congregation's apostolic identity at council meetings (which implies that the AIC is a member of the council). ¯ Initiating a congregational reflection to define exactly what the "sponsor" relationship requires of the congregation. As at least one critic has pointed out, the duties and obligations of sponsorship are often specified for the sponsored institution, but rarely are similar duties and obligations spelled out for the sponsoring congregation,s The MC might encourage meetings of both the leadership and the membership to outline the responsibilities the congregation has toward its institutions. Once these are determined, the AIC might be the one to see that they are met. Review for Religious ¯ Serving as a liaison with the various sponsored ministries. If the congregation has a separate board of sponsored ministries, then the AIC should be a member of it (and perhaps chair it). ¯ Serving as the apostolic-identity spokespdrson for the congregation to the media, overseeing public-relations activities connected with the congregation's apostolic identity. Again, this is an idealized picture. As with the mission-effectiveness offices in our former institutions, the activities of the apostolic-identity office may be marginalized in a given religious community. Many religious are so heavily involved in their ministries that they may resist invitations to set aside time to do this kind of communal apostolic sharing. Others may wish to forget about their jobs--especially if they find them draining and exhausting--and focus on more spiritual and recreational matters during the congregation's brief time together. Still others, formed in the days of common ministry within large institutions, may not - feel the need to discuss how apostolate is related to religious life today. And, since an apostolic-identity office is such a novel concept, many may not see why one is needed at all. Surely our congregation is already top-heavy with leadership? Why do we need to release another member from active ministry to do this? Perhaps the demise of the apostolic form of religious life is inevitable. Large hospitals, colleges, and other institutions may have become so bureaucratized and professionalized that they can no longer credibly represent a corporate Catholic vision of education, healthcare, or social service (although, of course, individual teachers or nurses--lay and religious--may still bring their private spiritualities to their jobs in these institutions). Fast-paced American culture, steeped in workaholism, may make it difficult to stop and be reflective about the work we do. There Many religious are so heavily involved in their ministries that they may resist invitations to set aside time to do this kind of communal apostolic sharing. Ju~-dugu¢ 2002 Wittberg * Reciprocal Identities may be a greater need for religious life forms focused on community and spirituality than on work--especially work in large institutions. Certainly monastic and contemplative religious communities are showing stronger growth than most apostolic ones.6 Religious life may thrive in monastic, evangelical, or future undreamed-of forms, even if its apostolic version becomes extinct. Perhaps an AIC would be a useless relic of a time already past. Or perhaps not. Perhaps what the world most needs is the witness of a group whose common vision for a transformative spiritual identity permeates the offices, factories, and marketplaces where its members work. Perhaps the reciprocal dialectic of religious community and sponsored ministry, each forming and transforming the other, is a longed-for alternative to the prevailing, "Enronized" corporate culture. Perhaps apostolic religious congregations possess the seed of a new corporate ministerial presence in the world, over and above the scattered individual ministries of their members. If so, then this vision, this dialectic, this presence, must be fostered and nurtured to growth. An AIC would have her job cut out for her. Notes i This is a terribly unattractive name, of course, but I am unable to think of any other. If this article persuades any congregation to establish the office of apostolic-identity catalyzer, they might consider naming it after a founding member who exemplified the apostolic dedication the congregation wishes to foster. 2 Margaret Susan Thompson, "Charism or Deep Story? Towards Understanding Better the 19th-Century Origins of American Women's Congregations," Review for Religious 58, no. 3 (May-June, 1999): 230-250. 3 According to sociologists studying organizations, "isomorphism" refers to the many pressures, both external and internal, which lead them to adopt similar practices. External pressures would include government regulations, professional accreditation standards, and the demands of customers/clients. Internal pressures would include ways of thinking that administrators develop from all of them being trained in the same schools, clinging to established practices in times of uncertainty, and needing to project an image of competence. See Walter W. Powell and Paul J. DiMaggio, eds., The New Institutionalfim in Organizational Analysis (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991). 4 Dennis H. Holtschneider CM and Melanie M. Morey, "Relationship Review for Religious Revisited: Changing Relations between U.S. Catholic Colleges and Universities and Founding Religious Congregations," Occasional Paper No. 47, Association of Governing Boards of Universities and Colleges. s Melanie M. Morey, Leadership and Legacy: ls There a Future for the Past? A Study of Eight Colleges Founded by Catholic VVomen's Religious Congregations, dissertation, School of Education, Harvard University, 1995, p. 203. 6 "Monasteries Enjoy Boom, with Some Help from Marketing," Religion Watch 17, no. 6 (April 2002): 2-3. Promissory In early March buds begin to swell on my peach tree. It is too soon. This uncertain month delivers snow and fro~t with its warm, sweet winds. But there they are, small, swelling promises of succulent fruit, nature's resurrective fiat silently shouting down my wintery worry with summer's certainty. Bonnie Thurston July-Aug~tst 2002 GEORGE ASCHENBRENNER Diocesan Priesthood: Discerning the Fire in Our Midst spirituality These are not easy days for the diocesan priesthood. Sexually inappropriate behavior has been making rousing--and saddening--copy in newspapers and magazines. This behavior can be, must be, viewed from a number of different perspectives. I mention just a few: the horrendous injustice and injury done to the victims; the sickness, often, of the perpetrator himself; the lack of honest dealing with sexual urges; the unjust accusation of some priests; the betrayal and undermining of the trust of many members of the church; and the faithful, generous service of many unheralded diocesan priests. I do not deny the seriousness of the present situation, nor am I insensitive to the many serious repercussions of the publicity. We all have much to learn from this difficult time for the diocesan priesthood. Seminary formation programs--indeed each individual priest--must honestly and carefully look at both sexual orientation and the swirling interior cauldron of sexual impulse, fantasy, and urge. Sexuality George Aschenbrenner SJ was cofounder of the Institute for Priestly Fbrmation at Creighton University in Omaha, Nebraska, and.is director of the Jesuit Center for Spiritual Growth; P.O. Box 223; Wernersville, Pennsylvania 19565. Review for Religious is only one aspect, but always an important one, of the discerning presence 6f the diocesan priest in the midst of a local people. This article is not about the sexual aspect of discernment, but implications for that area of human experience will be easily recognized. I focus on a central constituent of diocesan priesthood, namely, the priest's discerning presence in the midst of a local people. (In a recent book I develop this and other charisms that are needed in diocesan priesthood.)! The desires and needs of his people seek, from the diocesan priest, discernment, the art of holiness, but these desires and needs may not be easily detected. Holiness, in itself, does not seem something most people are daily concerned with. But reflection may suggest otherwise. Though often thought of or spoken of in other words and with a deceptive indirectness, the longing of the human heart for more--for something beyond what we have and appreciate, beyond our present knowing--stirs in all of us from time to time, especially in quiet moments. If we sometimes find this longing in ourselves, we must assume it in others as well. And, when the glow has faded from life and still we cannot say or put into words what we are missing, we and others may recognize that this longing for more is really a desire for an ever greater goodness, for holiness, in fact a desire for God. The ordinary people of a parish feel this in many ways, but may seldom try to express it. They desire holiness, a relationship that gets them out of the narrow confines of their own self. They seek greater meaning, more happiness, and greater love in the humdrum of ordinary living. Other people in the parish are more explicit and direct. They want to pray better; they want to know God's love more; they want their faith to be more alive. Though some may have a counselor or friend with whom they speak of these concerns, the principal person to whom people bring such stirrings and longings is their diocesan priest. They look to him for help, for answers, for the solution to their dissatisfaction. But what can the priest do? What answers does he have? He is presumed to have the graced art of daily growth in holiness. This is precisely what we mean by discernment of spirits. It is a very human process, God's subtle inspiration enlightening us to interpret, make sense of, the fire of God's awesome love present in the ordinary daily experience of us all. In various ways the human psyche is always encountering our Ascbenlrrenner * Diocesan Priestbood loving God. And these experiences are indeed profoundly human, and yet so much more. In faith they are experiences of a love promising a joy that alone can satisfy our longings, to some real extent here and now, but fully only on the other side of death. This discerning art of holiness is not a catalogue of answers to be learned and then distributed on request. Rather, it is a life to be lived in the uniquely personal part of our hearts, and yet with extroverting implication for all our human brothers and sisters and for our union with them in the transformation of our whole expanding universe. This article, then, is not a minicourse on discernment, nor is it a review of the answers a priest will need for all the people's questions. Rather, I want to present something of what is involved in a priest's discerning understanding, in his radiating the fire of the Holy Spirit for the people of his parish. I will describe four steps that are part of a discerning life and then three dimensions of the human stage on which the drama of a personal love-relationship with God is played. As a spiritual leader in the midst of the parish, the priest must have a reflective understanding of the art of discernment, seen as the dynamics of any mature faith life. This charism prepares the priest to play two important roles of service among the people: as a guide into the mystery of God's fire of love and as a soul doctor for those being healed and purified in that same fire. Discernment: God's Story of Mature Faith Growth Holiness and growth in union with God always involve the full human person alive in his or her concrete circumstances. A person's spiritual maturity, then, involves good actions, but also much more. It involves feeling and emotion, but also much more. Together with concern for actions and feelings, spiritual maturity must go down into a person's inner core. It is from this core that God's love should radiate into holy action and feeling so that people can readily become aware of God's love in the world. This radiation is an invitation to notice and welcome God's love in every situation. Discernment of spirits means achieving such recognition. Sometimes discernment is mistakenly seen as one of any number of approaches to mature spiritual development. Indeed, Review for Religious some schools of faith growth have their own terminology. Under these different articulations, however, is one fundamental process of growth toward mature faith, a sorting of inner experiences. For this reason, discernment of spirits is the story of personal faith growth, God's story of it. This process has two roots: our human reality within God's creation and God's revelation in Jesus. Discernment of spirits is God's story of us, narrated both in our makeup as human creatures and in God's love for us all in Jesus. If only this love shone clearly, brilliantly, beautifully in every situation! At times it does, of course, but at other times the radiance of this love is stained by smog or hidden by a heavy cloud of evil. If all were goodness, grace, and beauty, how wonderful--and surely no need for any careful sorting in such a good world. Or, if all were evil, darkness, and wickedness, we would live on the brink of despair--but, again, no need for any sorting or sifting. But, when the world of human beings is ambiguous and mixed, and still we are c~lled to find the goodness in it and to display it in ourselves in our daily lives, then a discernment of spirits within ourselves assumes an essential importance. We must learn to distinguish our selfish impulses from the radiant inspirations of the Holy Spirit of God. Most people have not developed the skills for expert discerning of spirits, but, if they do no discerning at all, mature faith eludes them. The priest, then, the spiritual leader and soul doctor in the parochial community, must do the hard work of learning the theory and practice of soul doctoring, of discerning holiness. In the midst of such careful inner sorting, we must never forget this: God desires and is committed to each of us in Jesus more than we can fully realize--and the Holy Spirit is constandy active in our hearts and our world. Christian holiness always has its initiative in the fire of God's loving desires for us. It is never a figment of our imagination or a product of our willpower. It is the mystery of God's precious gift for us all. But each of us must The priest must have a reflective understanding of the art of discernment, seen as the dynamics of any mature faith life. 3~uly-du~lst 2002 Aschenbrenn~ * Diocesan Priesthood learn to recognize, receive, and nurture the gift. And we need a guide to lead us, in some special ways, into the fire, into the radiant glow of that mystery: God's love burning bright in Jesus. The Material of Discernment God wants each of us to imitate.Jesus uniquely. The great challenge and invitation that haunts us all is to discover our true self in Christ. For each of us God intends a unique revelation of Christ. Though the enterprise has very complex aspects, the point is as simple as it is startling: God wants each of us to imitate Jesus uniquely. The very self that God intends each of us to be is a unique, living imitation of Jesus. And that life of ours is meant to shine for all the world. This true self, this unique revelation, this treasure is camouflaged in the spontaneous interiority of our daily consciousness. This pearl of great price, this treasure beyond all value, must be searched for and recognized when stumbled upon. Into the daily spontaneous consciousness of the priest and of his people come many images, feelings, thoughts, impulses, and moods, sometimes quietly, some-times shockingly. This inner world has a variety of seasons, bright hopeful springs and dark threatening winters. We might wish we could glimpse our true self in Christ conveniently and directly, avoiding tentative efforts to interpret these various elements in ourselves like the weather. But we do not even have anything like a satellite picture of our ow~ inner world. God takes the complexity of our human condition seriously, and so Jesus usually comes to us at the place where our own consciousness tangles with today's large or small historical realities. To try to avoid this encounter would be to deprive ourselves--and other people, too--of our unique opportunity to reveal Jesus Christ as God intends, that is, in daily circumstances that without our presence may lack the glow and radiance of fire. Whenever one person avoids these opportunities, the radiance of us all is somehow dimmed. The diocesan priest, doctor of souls that he is called to be, must not fail to uncover the treasure in these moments; others, seeing it, will carry the glow far beyond him. Revie~ for Religiou~ This discerning search for the treasure of our true self can be described in four steps, steps easier to describe than to apply to real circumstances. My intention is to describe the steps so that the priest can learn to recognize them in his own experience and then make them his own. This discerning process can then help the priest, the soul doctor, to guide people in discovering and welcoming the mystery of God's love in their own hearts and lives. Turned toward God This first step is most important and profound: an identity in Jesus Christ. Until this identity has been cultivated enough, serious discernment is not possible. A serious turning to God readies the heart for discernment and so initiates any trustworthy searching for the treasure of God's personal, uniquely specific love. This turning is a real change that grades the ground of our heart to a new incline: away from ourselves and toward God. It is more than a passing fancy or a momentary quirk. The realization that we are conceived, marked, and shaped from the dawn of our existence by a God who always and only loves, this realization takes root and changes the landscape of our daily lives. This realization of a Love greater than the love we have for ourselves stops us in our tracks. It invites an about-face. It gets us out of ourselves. A whole new vista opens up. We have discovered and been turned toward Someone more beloved than we are to ourselves. Is this Love for real? Can this Beloved be trusted? What are we to make of all this, of these subtle perceptions. As we pay closer attention to them, the realization can come that receiving and responding to such Love assumes an importance beyond all else. The ground under our feet shakes and radically shifts. At this juncture, there is a clarity; something has clearly changed. A central question has been posing itself in our heart for a long time: Am I the ultimate meaning of my own life? As we heard that question, the winds of our contemporary culture kept howling their answer: "Yes, of course! Of course I am the ultimate meaning 'of my own life! If not I, who else could be?" But now that yes is radically shaken and splinters into a clear no. The tree of my life is changed. I am no longer the ultimate July-Augwst 2002 Ascbenlrrenner ¯ Diocesan Priesthood meaning of my own life. Now my life's meaning is God's Love-- as promised and present in the risen Jesus. A new sun has risen, and it will never set. Now life becomes, more and more, fascination with this mysterious Beloved and radical openness and readiness for whatever that Love draws me to. Something has deepened and developed. An early seedling of religious intuition has become the fragile sprouting of a realization that by being tested becomes stronger and more deeply rooted. An early surmise and semiconscious intuition becomes a resolute desire of will. No tall grass shivering in the wind, but a tree, deeply rooted and still growing. This resolute desire shapes and casts our lives in love: first, God's ever faithful love in the risen Jesus and then our own love, our carefully discerned response of love. From now on, life is about love, at times tough love, but love nonetheless, and always. Make no mistake about that! In some important way, we are no longer in charge of our own lives. God is! Life is not yes to self, but yes to God, as shown in Jesus ("with him it was always yes," 2 Co 1:19). Facing Our Spontaneous Life Insofar as the countercultural movement to God's love has begun to take serious rooting in our heart, a second step beckons. Only honest facing of our inner spontaneous life makes it possible for us to find, in faith, trustworthy understandings about God. This statement is true, but it prescinds from the ingenuity of human consciousness for dishonest avoidance and selfish projection. We must learn, as best we can, to stand clear of these deceits and deceptions, whether conscious or unconscious, if we are to discern God's loving desire in our hearts. This is no easy matter, and invites the priest to an asceticism leading to truth and love. Sometimes this asceticism, always motivated by a growing desire to live in God's consoling love, will involve unlearning some previous training. An overly rationalistic view of Christian spirituality downplays, even scorns, the role of spontaneity and feeling, while on the other hand a supersensitivity to feeling and sentiment can smuggle into Christian spirituality a presumption that proclaims, sometimes quite unwittingly, that whatever we feel is God's will for us. In both of these instances, a previous Review for Religious learning must be honestly acknowledged, judged as incorrect, and gradually changed. As difficult as this change may seem, especially when the previously learned viewpoint has taken deep root, such a conversion is always possible for two reasons: first and foremost, the mystery of God's steadfast desire to get through to us and, second, our own soul's desire for ever greater radiance. If the priest stays in close touch with these two desires, he will be capable of whatever transformation is necessary because it will really be the work of the radiant Holy Spirit of God beckoning him beyond his own depth and into the realm of greater mystery in faith. A Wisdom of Interpretation in Faith In the process of the discernment I am describing here, for someone clearly turned toward God and honestly sensitive to the flow of inner spontaneity, the issue becomes a matter of meaning: Where is God in all of this? The answer requires a certain wisdom and ability to interpret. But interpretation could spring from any number of different vantage points, for example, from lived common sense, from majority cultural opinion, from professional human development, or from Christian faith. All of these different "wisdoms" might overlap to a small or large extent, but each would produce a different conclusion when used as the central focus of interpretation. In discernment the focus is profoundly one of Christian faith, a faith radiating with the experience of Jesus Christ and revealed in the Holy Spirit. How God is present here, now, offering a love beyond all loves--that is the central concern for a person turned toward and identified in God. As we have seen already, God is always present in all of our present historical world and in all of our spontaneous inner experience, but never simply and completely present to us. That treasure of a love beyond all value, that revelation of our own unique imitation of Jesus, must be sought in the mixture and confusion of our inner lives. An enlightenment of the Holy Spirit springing from our experience of God's faithful love alone--that is the gift needed at this point. Such enlightenment and wisdom differ subtly, though sharply, from enthusiastic generosity and simplistic sincerity. By themselves, without graced wisdom, these two qualities lack a North Star and can be dangerously ~Tuly-Au~st 2002 Aschenbrenner * Diocesan Priesthood misleading. The wisdom referred to here has a profound paschal orientation and is found more and more decisively present and operative in Jesus as he moves into the depths of his Passion all the way to Calvary and into his resurrected glory. This wisdom and enlightenment is hot the result of taking an academic course or reading a book. And it is not some sleight of hand or guesswork either. It is a grace the priest must pray for regularly. It has a firm context, and this helps the priest to be sure about the giftedness of his insight. The insight is tested in relation to the polestar of our identity in God's love. The. presence of the Holy Spirit is revealed in anything that conforms to our resolute desire to keep God's love, not self-love, as our focus. And anything that violates this focus is not an inspiration from God, but a nudge, large or small, toward self-idolatry. A pleasure-pain instinct in all of us tries to tilt us toward self-idolatry. This instinct of liking pleasure and fearing pain is understandable and healthy. But, when we let it assume a priority and centrality, when it becomes the focal light for our interpretation, then we become narcissistic. This pleasure-pain principle, in itself, is never fully identified with the paschal enlightenment of God's love. It was not so identified in the experience of Jesus. The pleasure-pain instinct did not plot his course to his beloved Father. Escaping 'the dominance of this instinct demands an asceticism. We are not to renounce this instinct pure and simple; rather, we renounce it as the polestar of our identity. Developing in faith our interpersonal relationship of love with God in the beauty of Jesus will not completely get rid of this instinct, but will weaken it. God's love ~n Jesus has become the treasure beyond all value, and what a grace it is to know indescribable pain when deprived of that treasure. To learn how to stand with Jesus, sometimes in pleasure and at other times in pain--this is the mature wisdom of a person consciously living in God's love. It is to claim the treasure intended by God before the foundation of the world: a radiant true self uniquely imitating the mystery of Jesus. Tactics for Intimacy with God The final step in this process is decisive tactics in accord with the paschal-faith interpretation of the previous step. For Review for Religious someone whose heart is resolutely set on following the lead of God's love, anything experienced as an incarnation of that love (often called consolation) is to be embraced, claimed, and lived, and anything that deflects us from God's love and toward self-idolatry (usually called desolation) is to be rejected and courageously withstood. In this step the issue is courage and decisive generosity, something possible only when illumined and strengthened by paschal wisdom. The issue is whether we will follow, and how wholeheartedly, the revelation of the Holy Spirit. This is the time for the soul's character to be healed and for faith to be annealed in the fire of the Holy Spirit. This process helps the hidden self grow strong, so that the priest can be a discerning presence in the midst of the people. Discernment, a life of mature spirituality, always acknowledges, distinguishes, and then interrelates three different dimensions of human existence: external behavior, what I call the core of the soul, and inner spontaneity. To develop and live out of the core of our true self is never easy, if possible at all in our post-modern world, but is always crucial for responsible, mature living in faith. Today's culture has great need of doctors of the soul who can facilitate the development of this core sense of true self through the integration of these three dimensions of human existence. Though our external behavior is perceptible and often consumes enormous energy, it is nothing more than a superficial part of our being. The activity on this stage poses a question of meaning, a question that it cannot itself answer even though it may seem to contain adequate answers for others and even ourselves. In our daily activity we touch and influence many people. As the New Testament reminds us, the activity of sincere loving reveals the genuineness of our faith. In the midst of our busy lives, the question often rises in our hearts: Are we simply what we do? Some careful reflection is needed to answer correctly and accurately. The question often rises in our hearts: Are we simply what we do? 2002 .~chenbrenner ¯ Diocesan Prie~thood A Hidden Self Grown Strong The soul's core is the unique and deepest part of every human person. This core plays a crucial role in the discovery of our true self in the beauty of Christ. A deep-hearted personal world, a treasure beyond value, is gradually revealed, acknowledged, and then laid claim to, though this whole process is much more one of receiving than of making. This inner core has a depth and a simplicity that is beyond words. As we grow in our appreciation of this personal center, its presence dawns, alluringly shrouded in mist and mystery. In the shifting mists of this mysterious realm, a noisy world is hushed. God breathes eternal love and life into this core of our soul moment by moment and on into eternity. This same creative love, unique to each of us, is in all of us. Our experience of God and of ourselves becomes ever more profound, personal, and unique. Even as you now read, this profoundly personal inner experience, this quiet steady conversation of love at our deepest core, gives the lie to feelings of suffocating loneliness. It gives the lie to the hateful notion that anybody is rotten to the core. Because of Jesus' love, a buried treasure, a pearl beyond pricing, a hidden self waits to be discovered in each human being, to be embraced, and to grow strong. Spontaneity takes place in the "skin" of our soul, in the rational and affective human experience of us all. As mentioned earlier, this experience of spontaneity conceals the deep treasure of our true self in Christ. These spontaneities of thinking and feeling may skitter across the skin of our souls, but do not touch the core. Spontaneities of impulse, image, and mood can flail and crackle and roar across our lives like an electrical storm. Such skitterings, such storms, coming and going, can bother or frustrate or enrage us. But they do, finally, pass. This level, spontaneous unintended experience, has the unpredictability of shifting sands and is not capable of the rock-like dependability of the core of the soul. This skin of the soul poses its own question: Are we simply and wholly identified by what we spontaneously think or feel? Though "what I feel" is never equal to "who I am," in the midst of a temporary storm we can all too easily judge otherwise. These spontaneities, though, really are on a different level. They are part of a process of integration, of coming to spiritual Review for Religious maturity, but they have their meaning only in relation to the soul's core. The presen.ce of these three dimensions of our persons and the four-step discernment process for integrating them should be familiar to the priest. Such integration is the way to mature faith and to appropriate activity that mature faith leads to. This integration is sometimes easy and obvious, sometimes confusing and excruciating. But doing it in love, doing it in our own unique imitation of Jesus' way of loving us, makes it possible, encouraging and strengthening us. This is the realm of service for a doctor of the soul. If the seminary communicates this and if it continues long after ordination, the result of this integration, this purification, will be like gold, bright and not sadly tarnished. To his service of their souls, the priest will bring a radiance that can illumine and develop the bright potential of their own lives. This radiance will be God's love shining from the face of the risen Jesus, still serving in our midst. Notes I George Aschenbrenner SJ, Quickening the Fire in Our Midst: The Challenge of Diocesan Priestly Spirituality (Chicago: Loyola Press, 2002). 2 See George Aschenbrenner SJ, "A Hidden Self Grown Strong," in Handbook of Spirituality for Ministers, ed. Robert J. Wicks (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1995), pp. 228-248. "Hidden Self," pp. 236-240. In the Words of Meister Eckhart The soul loves the body tenderly, even when, like a child on edge, it runs rambunctious through desire collapsing at last and won&ring why. Maryanne Hannan ~Tuly-dugv~st 2002 ERNEST E. LARKIN Desert Spirituality Booth Christian Meditation and centering prayer come out f early monasticism, which itself is a development of desert spirituality? Christian Meditation is the prayer of the heart described by John Cassian, the historian of desert spiri-tuality, who brought the wisdom of the desert fathers and moth-ers of Egypt and the Middle East to the West. Centering prayer comes out of the Cloud of Unknowing, a 14th-century English text that enshrines the contemplative traditions of the desert. It is no accident that both these contemplative prayer forms came to us by way of Benedictine and Trappist monasteries. Desert spirituality was the beginning of Christian monasti-cism and the matrix out of which Western monks developed their lifestyle. Contemplative prayer was at the heart of their life, and desert spirituality was the context. This article proposes to examine those ancient traditions and adapt them to our times. Desert spirituality is a technical term that has biblical and early Christian roots. The desert experience is a staple of both the Old and the New Testaments, for example, in the Exodus story, in the life of Elijah and the prophecy of Hosea, in John the Baptist, the forty-day fast of Jesus, and the three-year novitiate of Paul in Arabia (Ga 1:17). This desert experience was devel-oped into a coherent spirituality by the desert fathers and moth- Ernest E. Larkin OCarm wrote for us twice in 2001. His address remains Kino Institute; 1224 East Northern; Phoenix, Arizona 85020. Review for Religious ers in the 3rd and 4th centuries of the Christian era. These fer-vent Christians fled to Egypt and the Middle East to escape the decadence of an effete Roman empire. The wastelands offered a stark and untrammeled setting for a life of penance and prayer. Its rugged emptiness and its silence and solitude invited the flight from the world OCuga mundi). A special appeal to heroic souls was the belief that the demons infested the wastelands and could be met there in open combat. It did not take long for the desert dweller to discover that the demons were within and to be engaged on the battleground of the soul. Life in the desert was simple. Manual labor broke the monotony of the silence and solitude of the cell and provided .its own asceticism as well as sustenance and something for almsgiving. Desert dwellers spent their days in soul searching and the pursuit of the living God. Community life, especially when the solitary life prevailed, and outreach in ministry were clearly sec-ondary and not really part of the inte-rior struggle. Continuous prayer was the focus, and the abbas and the ammas spent their time in lectio div-ina, reading the psalms and the breviary, celebrating liturgy, and cultivating the prayer of the heart. These are the main fea-tures of desert spirituality. In this setting Christian holiness was a kind of white mar-tyrdom, a total giving over of one's life to God, the shedding of all self-indulgence in favor of a single-minded search for God. The desert was a graphic symbol of the emptiness of life and the otherness of God. The emptiness translated into purity of heart, a heart freed from sinful affections and centered on God. Thus the beatitude that best sums up desert spirituality is "Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God." Contemplation is the goal, and letting go of all lesser aims and surrender to the living God the condition. This general principle is abstract and can be lived out in an imaginary as well as a real desert. The desert as symbol universalizes desert spirituality as a possibility for everyone. There is, however, still place for the physical desert in ordinary Christian life. We examine this role The desert as symbol universalizes desert spirituality as a possibility for everyone. ]My-August 2002 Larkin ¯ Desert Spirituality in the next two sections of this paper, and we will return to the symbolic desert in the third section. Our first question is this: What can the desert do for me? In other words, why should I go out into the desert? The second question is a prophetic one: What can I do for a desert that is now under attack by the forces of neglect or consumerism? How do my efforts to protect the environment or my failure to participate affect my personal life? After these two reflections we will return to the overall princi-ple of desert spiritfiality, the call to emptiness and encounter with God. What Can the Desert Do for Me? In Scripture the desert is primarily the wasteland, and it leads to the garden of the promised land, the desert come to life, as in Isaiah 35:1-2: "The desert shall rejoice and blossom . The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it, the majesty of Carmel and Sharon." Both the bleak image and the flowering one apply to the physical desert as we use the term today. The desert means the wilderness, the great outdoors. This includes barren wastelands like sand dunes or the scrubby flatlands of Texas or Arizona, but also verdant gardens, scenic forests, majestic moun-tains, and rolling plains. The desert is all the places on this beautiful earth that are still largely untouched by city sprawl and offer themselves as a refuge for weary people. These lands can be gift for our spirits. They refresh us and challenge us. They beckon us to "come aside and rest awhile," away from the noise and congestion of the city with its polluted air and harried traffic. The desert is the place to hike a trail, fish a stream, pic-nic with friends, or just smell the sage and be with one's long thoughts. " Except for some few families that have declared their inde-pendence and homesteaded in the wild and some rare hermits who have also settled there, people today only visit this desert; they do not dwell there. They go out for physical exercise and emotional refreshment, for meditation and for fun. They enter desert places hostile to human habitation very gingerly, armed with water jugs, proper sun gear, and ideally with companions. Some visit these "fierce landscapes" (Belden Lane) for excite-ment, others to deal with a crisis, a limit experience, a sorrow Review for Religious that overwhelms them. Perhaps unconsciously they are looking for an environment that mirrors their troubled soul. A good example of this kind of match between soul and terrain is a retreat for middle-aged men described in a recent publication.2 It was conducted by Richard Rohr and designed to help men from many walks of life through their midlife crisis. The retreat took place at Ghost Ranch in northern New Mexico in the sum-mer of A.D. 2000. The men were challenged to let down their defenses and face themselves squarely. The retreat turned out to be a harrowing rite of passage. The torrid summer heat and the bleak lonely emptiness of the desert combined with soul-search-ing introspection and dramatic rituals to test the most stout-hearted. More often retreats or "a day in the desert" are spent in more friendly spaces. An attractive pastoral setting calms the soul and provides the quiet that people need for facing the real issues of their life. God seems closer in pristine settings. One popular formula for such outings is the poustinia, a concept pop-ularized by Catherine de Hueck Doherty. Poustinia means her-mitage, and folks become poustiniaks for a day, bringing along only a Bible and a bit of bread and cheese. The poustinia can actually be a back room or the attic of one's home, but there are advantages in going out to the woods or the seashore. Getting out in the country, breathing in the fresh air and fragrances of the meadows, walking around the lake or trudging along paths in hilly terrain, can be healthy physical exercise and spiritual refreshment. These are ways of slowing down, of refus-ing to be a couch potato and insuring the balance of mens sana in corpore sano (a sound mind in a sound body). Grace builds on nature, so a healthy body and soul are a good basis for the life of God in us. A good health regime works directly against anx-ious, workaholic tendencies or the equally bad habit of inertia and laziness. Recreational activities also develop the playful side of our lives. This is our contemplative side. Visitors to the desert know that God is everywhere and that they do not have. to go up to the heavens or across the sea to find the word of God. "No," Deuteronomy says, "the word is very near to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart for you to observe" (Dt 30:11-14). But the desert facilitates the search. The wide open spaces, the silence and solitude, reveal God. July-August 2002 Larkin ¯ Desert Spirituality Silence is the best conta.ct point with God, since God is always present, though beyond speech, images, and concepts. The desert fosters this silence, this emptiness, the letting go of every-thing that is not of God. The desert is built for kenosis, the self-emptying of Jesus, who was perfectly open to God and was therefore exalted with the pleroma, the fullness of the resurrec-tion (Ph 2:5-11). The desert way is the way of emptiness and fullness. These reflections belong to the first step on the spiritual journey, the appreciation of creation. Original blessing pre-ceded original sin, and immersion in creation and appreciation and love for this gift ought to precede the work of redemption. This is the thinking of Teilhard de Chardin, Matthew Fox, Francis Kelly Nemeck, and Marie Theresa Coombs. More recently Dorothee Soelle sees "being amazed" as the first of the three ways or stages of the spiritual life? Instead of the classi-cal ways of purification, illumination, and union, she proposes "being amazed, letting go, and resisting" as the three steps. Amazement and appreciation help us take an objective stance before the earth, and this makes it easier to let go, the second of the three ways for Soelle. This leads us to involvement, to compassion and commitment, regarding the world. She calls this resistance, because it involves working against the threats to the environment and society. That is to say, we resist and work for justice in all areas of life, such as the economic and the eco-logical orders. The unitive way calls to action as well as divine union. What Can I Do for the Desert? The work of saving the earth is a challenge and responsi-bility for people everywhere today. The call resonates among informed spiritual persons. They have listened to the new cos-mology presented by scientists like Brian Swimme and the "geologian" Thomas Berry, and they have heard the plaintive warnings of the environmentalists that the earth is wounded and in danger of collapsing. The universe has become part of today's spiritual journey. The whole universe and its crown, homo sapiens, are seen as one vast living organism in which they depend on each other and rise and fall together. In the past the Revieva for Religious earth was looked upon as an appendage of humanity. Humanity alone counted, and the rest of creation was expendable. Human beings pursued their own desires recklessly, without thought about the effects in the environment. They could trash the earth, abuse it or destroy it, without worry because there were always other virgin territories to exploit in the same way. This was an affront to creation; we see it now as an affront to human life as well, because, in the words of Edward Abbey, "the wilderness is not a luxury but a neces-sity of the human spirit just as vital to our lives as water and good bread.''4 The uni-verse is an integral part of our human life. We are partners, and we participate in growth or decline together. In the abuse or destruction of the universe, we are diminished and dehumanized. The commission in Genesis 1:26 to have "dominion" over the earth did not give humans the right to abuse it. We are only caretakers, not absolute owners; we cannot take the myopic view of looking for an immediate return in pleasure or profit with no thought about the long-term loss to creation and the short-changing of future human beings. One reviewer of Thomas Berry's latest book, The Great Work: Our Way into the Future, quotes Berry and then adds some strong words of his own: "'What happens to the outer world happens to the inner world,' Berry avers. 'If the outer world is diminished in its grandeur, then the emotional, imaginative, intellectual, and spiritual life of the human is diminished or extinguished.' Our inner being will die if we continue to transform natural beauty into the soul-deadening, concrete-laden, box-store landscapes of a consumer society." s The obligation to safeguard the environment has three aspects: personal, societal, and spiritual. Each person needs to treat the desert with love and respect. Some of that concern is cosmetic, like cleaning up after using the land and properly dis-posing of the debris, especially nonbiodegradable material. Respect and moderation mean that we do not harm the plant life by careless trampling, that we obey rules about camp fires and camping, that we leave the natural beauty intact without pil-fering plants or otherwise harming the vegetation, that we Each person needs to treat the desert with love and respect. July-Aug;ust 2002 Larkin ¯ Dese~t Spirituality carefully control toxic substances like pesticides or poisonous chemicals. These are cominonsense suggestions. The societal obligation may take the form of joining groups like the Sierra Club that are dedicated to the environment, or of lending one's name to, say, Robert Redford's campaign to save the National Arctic Wildlife Refuge. Systemic problems can be addressed only by group action that can effect structural changes. We need to support these causes. There is no other way to stop the pollution of our waterways and atmosphere, to keep indugtrial wastes out of our rivers and lakes, to find ade-quate ways of dealing with nuclear waste, to stop the destruction of the ozone layer, to save the rain forests and wetlands, and to halt the woefully unbalanced overconsumption by the few. Elizabeth Johnson writes: "Every year, the twenty percent of Earth's people in the rich nations use seventy-five percent of the world's resources and produce eighty percent of the world's waste." 6 There is a special spiritual component today because of the crisis in saving the earth. Time is running out, and experts say that there are only twenty-five or thirty years left to turn the destructive spiral around. The problems are over-whelming, and the laborers are few. We can organize and we can work, but the odds are against us. At such times we need overt divine help. Specifically the challenge is to pray con-templatively, to face the societal impasse which Constance FitzGerald, in a famous article several years ago, connected with the dark night of St. John of the Cross: The dark night occurs as impasse in all sectors of human life, whether prayer, human relationships, or societal renewal. One response to impasse is trusting acceptance, silence before God, and lov-ing surrender, which bring wisdom and strength and which are qualities of contemplative prayer. We take our insoluble problems to God. We wait with faith and trust, ready to spring into action in changing what we can deal with and accepting what we cannot change. Contemplative prayer is an admission that our problems may be beyond human resources. But our prayer is full of hope, because contem-plation may stretch our imagination and inspire new creative ways of dealing with the problem. Solid prayer will certainly strengthen our resolve to continue the struggle. The popu- Review for Religious larity of contemplative prayer in our time may well be con-nected with the magnitude of the problems of this age. Desert Spirituality in Its Purest Form We return now to the traditional meaning of desert in the spiritual life, namely, desert as physical place and as symbol. The desert of the first abbas and aromas was the real wasteland. Anthony and Pachormus spurned the fleshpots of the Roman cities and went to the bleak deserts of Egypt to be alone with God and to keep careful watch over the movements of their hearts. The purity of heart they sought meant that they tried to choose only the good, to do everything right, in perfect measure, for the right reasons. They prayed and fasted to put to death the old man within themselves, so that the new man could come alive. They underwent this discipline for one reason: They wanted to see God. This goal was not face-to-face vision, as heaven will be (1 Jn 3:1-3); nor was it seeing God as an object, the way I see a person in front of me. Neither was it simply a new understanding, a new image of God, or a new perception. It was a seeing that meant presence, companionship, walking with God. It was contemplative union with God. Contemplation follows purity of heart as night follows day. We have a window into the thinking of the desert fathers and mothers in the first conference of John Cassian.s The imme-diate objective of life in the desert was purity of heart; this he called the skopos (English "scope"). The skopos is oriented to a further good, which he calls the telos, the end or final purpose. An example of these two aspects of human endeavor is the life of the farmer. The farmer prepares the soil, plants the seed, hoes and manures the field. All this is his immediate task, his sko-pos. But he does it all with a view to the harvest, which is the telos, the real purpose of his work. If the skopos of life in the desert is purity of heart, the telos is the fullness of the kingdom of God, the resurrected life. This program of seeking perfect purity of heart in order to find God can be applied to every Christian life. Purity of heart-- as freedom from every actual sin and as right relationships with self, others, the world, and God--is the immediate task of the daily struggle. Purity of heart is more than chastity; it is all the Larkin ¯ Desert Spirituality Purity of heart is all the virtues in perfect integration. virtues in perfect integration. This marvelous condition is often set in negative terminology. It is called detachment, or indif-ference, or freedom from sinful habits. But it is a very positive condition identified with biblical faith. This faith is the response to the word of God wherever it is recognized. It is the faith of the Virgin Mary in St. Luke's Gospel. At the annunciation, for example, she is perturbed at the angel Gabriel's message. How can she, a committed virgin, be the mother of the Messiah? When the angel assures her that God will provide, she gives her full assent to that word. She lets go of her own project in favor of God's word. A high degree of purity of heart means a heart full of faith. It means a heart full of love. The pure of heart are loving per-sons. They will see God, that is, they will know and love God, as described in the First Letter of John: "Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love . No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God lives in us, and his love is perfected in us" (1 Jn 4:7-8, 12). For the desert fathers and mothers and espe-cially for theologians like Evagrius and Gregory of Nyssa, see-ing God meant contemplation. This gift was the reward for the purification, and it consisted in experiencing union with God. This contemplation was not one particular experience, nor an altered state of consciousness. It came out of transformation. By allowing one's life to be brought under the movement of the Holy Spirit, one was born a new person, a "new creation" (2 Co 5:17). This new creature lived in the world of God and expe-rienced God in the whole gamut of his or her worldly occupa-tions. Contemplation was thus a way of life, not a particular experience. The Carmelite Application The evolution of desert spirituality suggested in this paper has special reference to Carmelite history. Carmel came out of Review for Religious the desert, born on Mount Carmel, home to the Old Testament prophet Elijah and to hundreds of hermits at the time of the Crusades. The Carmelites were one group of such hermits; they sought a rule of life from the Latin patriarch of Jerusalem, Albert of Avogadro, who held the office between 1206 and 1214. The result was the Rule of St. Albert, a contemplative and eremitical document that was simple, practical, and eminently scriptural. The tides of politics and war, however, forced the Carmelites to leave their sacred mountain and go back to Europe as early as 1238. The eremitic style of life underwent change in the direction of community and ministry, eventually making the order a mendicant one like the Dominicans and Franciscans. One of the early general superiors, Nicholas the Frenchman, tried to stem the move to the city. In 1270 he wrote a strong let-ter, called "The Fiery Arrow," calling the men to return to the desert. But the mendicant form of life had struck a chord in their hearts. They continued to foster their contemplative long-ing, but now they carried the desert in their hearts. The desert was a symbol now rather than the physical reality. A second charter of the order, called the Institution of the First Monks, dated 1370 and written by a Catalonian Carmelite, Philip Ribot, presented a symbolic life of Elijah and the example of the Blessed Mother as both a description and a defense of the new lifestyle. The book incorporated the thinking of John Cassian, especially on the structure of the religious life as the search for purity of heart and contemplation. The desert spirituality of Mount Carmel was adapted now to an active apostolic life. Henceforth Carmelite spirituality was at home in communities of active religious and lay people as well as cloistered contem-platives. The reform of Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross two centuries later built on this document and renewed and perfected the eremitical-contemplative ideal of Carmel. They did so, not only by promoting desert houses of total contem-plative life, but by organizing a way in which every Carmelite house could be, in the words of a great Carmelite of the next century, John of St. Samson, another Mount Carmel. The desert spirituality of Carmel's beginnings had become democratized and available to all who espouse the ideals of the Carmelite tradition. 3 73- --- July-August 2002 Larkin ¯ Desert Spirituality Notes t Christian Meditation and centering prayer are two popular forms of contemplative prayer, designed by John Main OSB and the Trappists at Spencer, Massachusetts, respectively, the former promoted by the World Community of Christian Meditation under Laurence Freeman OSB and the latter by Contemplative Outreach, whose leader is Thomas Keating OCSO. 2 Donal O'Leary, "High Noon at Ghost Ranch," Furrow 52 (January 2001): 27-35. 3 Silent Cry: Mysticism and Resistance (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2001), pp. 88-93. 4 Cited from his Desert Solitaire by Thomas J. McCarthy, "The Ultimate Sanctum," America (9 April 2001): 6. s Stephen Bede Sharper, "A New Heaven and a New Earth," Christian Spirituality Bulletin 8 (Fall-Winter 2000): 15. 6 "God's Beloved Creation," America (16 April 2001): 9. 7 "Dark Night as Impasse," in Living with Apocalypse, ed. Tilden Edwards (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1984). s Conferences, of John Cassian, trans. Colm Luibheid (New York: Paulist Press, 1985), pp. 37-43. Devotion I am twelve, have read of the child Virgin martyrs, and decide it is High time I practice such virtue. At My next confession, after the usual Childhood sins, I say I want to Vow myself to God like a saint. The Assistant pastor, thinking fast, replies That at present I don't know The vocation God has chosen For me, but I may promise him My chastity until I take that vow, Or those of marriage. Satisfied, I rejoice in God's favor, and Make my promise. Mary Hanson Review for Religious BARBARA ZAJAC Three Forms of Community Living: A Survey Report For much of the 20th century, sisters who performed charitable service works lived in convents near the institutions they served. As missions and roles changed after the Sister Formation Conference (1950s) and Vatican Council II (1960s), so did the living arrange-ments, often necessitated by travel considerations. Congregations such as these had called themselves "communities" when they held common missions and residences, and they continue to use this term today even though--wearing few or no common ~ymbols, ministering in widely diverse occupations, and residing in locales favorable to their mission assign-ments- many are barely identifiable as members of a group of sisters. Puzzled that this topic received little attention in sociological literature aside from Wittberg's analyses (see Bibliography), I found myself raising several research questions about the meaning of "community." Does it mean a location-based entity? A process? A set of relationships? A task force? A par-ticular goal or ideal toward which people strive? As part of a larger study (Zajac, 1999b), I studied Barbara Zajac first contributed to our pages in 1999. Her current address is Department of Sociology; Indiana State University; Terre Haute, Indiana 47809. July-Aug£ust 2002 Zajac ¯ Three Forms of Community Living one religious order of apostolic sisters. Though from their founding the group provided chiefly educational and medical services, individual sisters now select their own mission assign-ments, which include traditional teaching and parish pastoral work, professional careers such as psychologist and speech pathologist, and social activism and feeding the homeless and hungry. Throughout California over a two-year period (1995 and 1996), fifty members of this congregation were interviewed indi-vidually and in-depth. Although the sample was volunteer and purposive, it is considered fairly ~:epresentative of the order in general (see Zajac, 1999a). Additional information was obtained from the group's monthly magazinE, religious periodicals, and selected participant observation. The group is given the pseudonym Sisters of Reconciliation of JesusI (SRJ). Similarly, individual names and identifying factors have been disguised or altered. What Community Means It is evident that there is no widespread consensus about the word community. Putting feelings into words was difficult for the sisters, and they responded in words they were comfortable using. Some began with what I would call generalized notions of community, and others described what community involves or how it can be formed and lived. Still others spol~e of mani-festations of community and of how community is maintained. Nearly everyone cited some of the qualities I will describe under manifestations of community. Anything approaching near agreement on most of the gen-eralized notions of community was absent. Some sisters attached the term to a specific location, while others denied the impor-tance of a spatial component. Some described community as an ongoing process that is never completed, or as an ability, agree-ment, or commitment. Others mentioned the people involved and the human connections among them. A number of the sis-ters spoke of community as a bond or tie among people, a togetherness, while others used such phrases as "a living-out of the vows," "a unanimity of vision and purpose," and "the charism [of the Sisters of Reconciliation] lived out." Regarding Review for Religious the often mentioned familial nature of community, there was much disagreement. Some denied that it is a family, some described it as "like" a family, and others claimed that it is "more than" a family. Certain sisters told me they think community involves notions of struggle, being invested in the group or having a sense of ownership about it. Some explained the factors by which they create for themselves a sense of "community," ger-mane to the can-be-done category. While at least one sister cited similar ministry as the key to community, others thought the key is personal characteristics such as being open to others, try-ing to understand them, and being thoughtful, prayerful, and considerate. Many said that much communication is needed, and a great deal of give-and-take, exemplified in being open to others, trying to understand them, and allowing for the flow of communication, with its misunderstandings, disagreements, and concurrences. Others talked of the mechanisms by which community can be sustained, such as living or working together, "making it happen," or constantly articulating the meanings. The latter suggestions are rather nonspecific, but the next item is quite different. Certain sisters told me they think community involves notions of struggle. Manifestations of Community Nearly everyone listed one or two qualities in the category called manifestations ofcommunity. A good many used a small number of emotionally laden terms, heartfelt terms: empathy, interconnectedness, sharing. Others used different words, but their intent seemed similar enough that I could not justify putting their statements elsewhere. Examples of this are "living together, not singly" and "working on things together." In this "manifestations" category many talked of the people they encountered, or of the work as being a continual process; some continued an articulation of "what community means to me." Human behaviors and interactions, with their sentiments July-August 2002 Zajac ¯ Three Forms of Community Living and attitudes, make up the heart of community. Empathy is expressed especially through concern and caring, through notic-ing and having interest in others. One person termed this a "feeling for" others, and many called it "support." Such senti-ments are displayed in such particular behaviors and actions as showing respect and appreciation or at least acceptance; if not, the reality of the sentiments is questionable. If empathy is pre-sent and expressed, the members of a group develop and main-tain an interconnectedness, an interdependence, a mutual sense of belonging. They develop a social solidarity. Empathy, empathic behavior, and interdependence work together in what is called sharing, which seems to be central. Nearly all the sisters interviewed mentioned the sharing of something, whether faith or prayer, tasks, worldly goods, help-ful services, or expressions of caring support. Sharing faith and the spiritual life was mentioned most frequently, and, along with it, the emotional support this sharing provided. Things like housework, goods, and ministry are shared differently, depending on the specific living arrangements (to be described shortly). The sharing of spirituality and various works rein-forces caring sentiments and behaviors and the sense of being interdependent. It is through sharing even ordinary things that crucial personal connections are created and sustained. Representative Community Groupings Three types of community living groups will be described: a self-named "intentional" community, what I term a residen-tial community, and a community of one. These are composite portraits. They do not describe every type of living situation, but seem representative of the arrangements of active Sisters of Reconciliation. Intentional Community "House of Peace" is the sign next to the doorbell of a large house in a run-down neighborhood of the central city where poverty is endemic and violence is the norm. The home of five SRJs, this intentional:community was formed with express pur-poses in mind. The sisters deliberately chose its location amid Review for Religious widespread desolation in order to identify with and serve the poorest people of the city. The members were selected for their personal and professional qualities, namely, a desire for an intense spiritual life and an unwavering dedication to the mis-sion of the Sisters of Reconciliation in serving the city's need-iest people. There are five regular residents. Sister Elaine Sherman runs a transitional housing program for homeless families. Sister Mary Anne coordinates the sisters' social-justice efforts. Sister Ruth Patrick, retired from a full career of teaching, daily trav-els twenty miles each way to where she cooks and serves meals to transients. Sister Bertina Marie, who is bilingual, is a com-munity activist and pastoral minister in the Spanish-speaking community. Sister Jane Th~r~se, who has not yet taken her final vows in religious life, teaches religion in a local Catholic high school and hopes to study divinity in the future. The house is also the home base of a sister working in a residential house for adolescents and of sisters visiting temporarily from mission lands or elsewhere. Sister Ruth Patrick, the oldest sister and the one longest in the SRJs, was the driving force for starting this new house. She had been aware of the brewing turbulence in religious life since the 1950s and thought then that the sisters ought to be living more adult lives than was possible while rigidly observing detailed rules and daily schedules in sequestered convents. She wanted to live out her own values explicitly, holding prayer in common, sharing with the poor, living very simply, and being concerned about others and accountable to them. And so she looked for sisters that she felt had a strong sense of the SRJ mis-sion and were dedicating their lives to living it. She looked for sisters who knew themselves well and.knew what would equip them well for their ministries. She looked for sisters who were aware of what would personally empower them and what might drain them of apostolic energy. She looked for sisters who were willing to give support to others and to receive it as well. Such sisters she approached with her proposal. Perhaps most important, these women must be open to new forms of prayer such as sharing of the heart rather than recit-ing formulaic prayers at specified hours. This prayer involves common reading of a passage from the Bible' and then individ- July-August 2002 Zajac ¯ Three Forms of Community Living ual reflection and comment on what the reading means to each one, how it applies to her own life. It demands a willingness to be open and vulnerable to other people. This sharing of faith and spirituality is not for everyone. Some older sisters, in par-ticular, have been reluctant to engage in it. Now, when a new member wishes to join the house, she comes and talks with the existing group about her hopes and ex.pectations for common life. She learns that, in addition to sharing faith and emotional support, the group divides up the house chores, such as bookkeeping and paying the bills, shopping for food and preparing meals, cleaning and yard work. She learns that she is to live on the allotted personal budget and to reserve some of that money to support foreign missionaries. She learns that "one person's guest is every person's guest" here. Although a sister may dislike or resent such an interview before being admitted to a new house, she needs to remind herself that the present residents consider it crucial that new residents know and agree to support these values and their explicit expression. Sister Elaine, who came to religious life through her vol-unteer work and not directly from her Catholic schooling, explains more about this group's dynamics~ Although they min-ister in diverse fields with varied schedules, they reserve one night a week as their community night, when all will be present for prayer, eating, and sharing. Her social-work background leads her to describe the difficulty of working with people "who are blocked up" by past traumas or interpersonal issues. This form of life, this "microcosm of society," is a difficult life to live. It must enable sisters to go out and minister to the world. They must learn to be communicative and must get to know each other's histories. Since there are various workable arrangements for getting through days cooperatively and smoothly, the sisters must con-tinually strive to accommodate themselves to the others in the group. Sister Elaine thinks that an all-female group can be "really beautiful and powerful or really terrible," depending on how they handle interpersonal relations. The key thing, in her experience, is to keep talking to each other and "not whine." She admits that she had to learn some of these things herself in community living and that it is still sometimes difficult to keep her own "space." She is one of those who prefer not to talk to Review for Religious anyone for a few minutes after arising in the morning, so she now showers at this time to maintain her internal quietude. Pastoral ministry to the poor and immigrant Spanish-speak-ing community is Sister Bertina Marie's specialty. While her day is occupied with teaching English as a second language and running a community center with various offices and activities (Head Start, legal clinic, medical outreach services, and chil-dren's programs), she is an integral member of the House of Peace. Seeking more ways to live out the SRJ vision, charism, and values, its members extend love and hospitality to sur-rounding neighbors. The sisters offer their house as a site for Neighborhood Watch and other meetings. They make sure that flowers are always growing in their yard to symbolize nonvio-lence in a locale where drugs, gangs, and hostilities abound. Sister Bertina Marie stresses the integration of the house goals with individual ministries: all identify with and serve the poor, value deep prayer life in common, and support others with goods and hospitality. Sister Mary Anne, the government-affairs coordinator for the congregation, spends her.time researching, writing, lobby-ing, and educating people about political issues that affect the poor. Working for such structural change where results come slowly if at all is for many an enervating and thankless task. She talks of recognizing one's own needs as well as those of others, and of balancing community life with ministry. She speaks from experience. At one time she held a position that "totally consumed" her. She thought she was in a vocation crisis and should perhaps leave the community. She was so burned out that she" had nothing to give to anyone and did not even want to "bring Jesus" to the people she worked with. An extended retreat, however, provided her with reflection time to realize it was her ministerial position that needed to be changed, not her SRJ affiliation. Now she highly values living with oth-ers who think as she does, all of them giying and getting real emotional and spiritual support. "Community has been a gift to me," she recalls, mention-ing the friends she has made and how they "move together in growth." She says she was one of the first to propose and pio-neer small-group living and that her experience with eight oth-ers proved its value for her. Being honest with each other and .~tuly-August 2002 Zajac * Three Forms of Community Living "I'm not accepted just because I'm capable. I can be a failure and I'm still loved." sharing their deepest values were what she had been seeking. When all members had the "same thirst for God and the desire to live out a faith life in mission," they found they did not fight over little things, but rather worked them out, a quality that is sometimes missing in residential communities. The youngest member of the House of Peace commun!ty is Sister Jane Th4r~se, thirty-something, planning to take her final vows within a year. She was attracted to this house for sev-eral reasons besides its location near where she teaches religion to inner-city children. She was pleased that there were a vari-ety of ages together there and liked their outreach to the neigh-borhood. As a newer SRJ, she appreciated this group's willingness to work with younger members and pass on wisdom and insight from their experience. Sister Jane Th4r~se cites a sentence to describe the com-munity's value to her, a line from the SRJ constitution: "With the strength that comes from our life together, we turn to serve the world in need." "This was not only memorized," she says, "it was lived." She remarks that the constitution holds that SRJs share "all that we have and are," including personal uncertainties, frailties, and inabilities, all of which she knows firsthand. Before her current ministry she was locked into a miserable sit-uation where she had no power or auth.ority. She says that, although her sisters in this local community were in no position to give her help or even offer constructive criticism, speaking about her difficulties and receiving support in return were cru-cial to her fulfilling that assignment. Such unconditional accep-tance comes from being a member of the community. She says, "I'm not accepted just because I'm capable. I carl be a failure and I'm still loved." The ability to be vulnerable and to share one another's gifts helps her "to find God active in the world." In addition to these regular residents, House of Peace is also the local community for Sister Mary Kimball, a member of the SRJs of the East Coast. In Califoi'nia to gain experience in a new ministry, she runs a home for truant and delinquent high Review for Religious school girls who show academic or other creative potential. Because this ministerial unit requires her live-in presence, she affiliates with the House of Peace local community. Ordinarily she will be there every Monday evening to share dinner, prayer, and occasional social activities. Being a member of this group keeps her from feeling isolated and abandoned and allows her to give and get support within the context of her commitment to the mission of the SRJs. Residential Community The convent of St. Junipero Serra sits amid a pleasant res-idential neighborhood in the west side of the city. Next to the Catholic church and school, it once housed sisters of the con-gregation responsible for running the school. Now no sisters teach there. Not needed for parish activities, the building is rented to the SRJs for a reasonable fee. The residential com-munity is home to seven SRJs engaged in various ministries; the youngest is in her forties, and two are semiretired. This convent is run by group government, explains Sister William Joseph, who teaches math at Sacred Heart College for Women, established by the SRJs. Group government, originally an experimental form of living, applies now to almost all resi-dential groups and means participatory decision making in mat-ters that involve all members. The group collectively determines the extent of common prayer life, shared meals, other domes-tic activities, and group celebrations. "Respect" and "acceptance" are two words frequently heard in this group because, as one explains, "not all things can be shared well." This group has decided to share morning prayers Mondays through Fridays, and to gather one evening a week to share experiences and discuss the business of the larger con-gregation. They support the large community of sisters at events and serve as a "presence" in the parish. The group evening may be for holiday celebrations or indi-vidual birthdays or religious feast days. At the time of Sister William Joseph's interview in early January, there was a tall dec-orated Christmas tree in the common living room where we talked. She told me that this community would be celebrating its Christmas that evening, exchanging gifts. During the previ- July-August 2002 Zajac ¯ Three Forms of Community Living ous week, all were out visiting their families, so a common celebration was postponed. Sister William Joseph was one of those who did not want to break up the convent into smaller residential groups in the 1970s. She has always appreciated the exposure to many other sisters and did not wish to lose contact with those she might not encounter in her ministry or in small-group living. She says she has always had to "stretch herself" for others, but adds that this is part of the commitment they make to each other. Similar is her opinion of all the congregational events this house supports; she really does not care for so many meetings and events, but attends as part of the duty she upholds. Sister Adia Marie Buckley, too, is involved in academics. An administrator at the same college, she speaks about reli-gious- life community a little differently. "Although there must be people with whom one lives and with whom one must main-tain friendly relations," she says, "community extends to much more than this." She explains the kinship sense she feels with the broad congregation of other SRJs in the United States and else-where in the world, and with affiliate members, former mem-bers, and sisters in other orders. Sister Catherine Tivnan, who runs an office at the congre-gational headquarters, explains why she chose this house: "They're kind of middle-of-the-roaders, and I thought I'd fit in with them. I thought this was what I was looking for in peo-ple, for not heavy-duty intensive living, but just a nice, com-fortable place where I would fit in and would be accepted." By "not intensive" she explains that in some places there are peo-ple who "dissect everything and practically have a magnifying glass on everything you say and do." She says she does not mind such psychological probing on occasion, but cannot take a steady diet of it. She gives an example. A sister with whom she used to live would read every article in the Sunday newspaper and then want to discuss it with anyone in the room at the time. Eventually Sister Catherine would explicitly refuse to talk with her. She preferred to look at the paper rather quickly and then move on to other activities like walking by the beach or going to a movie. Sister Elizabeth Conan is a registered nurse and medical instructor who teaches away from home two or three evenings Review for Religious a week. Dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a plaid shirt, she tells me that she does less of the cooking for the house than some oth-ers because of her split work schedule. Her family also occupies her attention for about one day a month because of some difficult illness. She loves spending time with her sisters in com-munity, however, including their times of play. She likes to barbecue in good weather, and she says that at times she will just put out a sign-up sheet shortly beforehand, rather than planning everything well in advance. "Dressed to the teeth" was the impression Sister Margaret de Lorca made when I met her in her office at the parish hall. She explains that, coming from an artistic family, she had always enjoyed the use of color in her surroundings, although she did not wear it during many years of teaching in the traditional habit. Working part-time now, Sister Margaret works in religious edu-cation, organizing prayer groups, directing occasional retreats, and providing individual spiritual direction. She tells me that the sisters have common prayer in the house at 6:10 a.m. Monday through Friday. They initially prayed together in the evenings, but found it too difficult because of their divergent schedules. She contrasts living here in a small group with living in the congregational center, which is home to about a hundred sisters and was her home for two years. Even though residents here have to work to find time to be together, it takes a lot less energy to relate to this group than it would to everyone in the large community. Life was stressful for her there because, in walk-ing down a hallway, she would commonly encounter ten or twelve different people. By the time the tenth person said "How are you, Sister Margaret?" she would be exhausted. She is "not an extrovert," but also "not a strong introvert," so daily relations with six other people are plenty for her. Another member of this group is Sister Margot Monroe, an educational psychologist who does counseling for individ-ual schools and has a private practice for handicapped children. The sisters have common prayer in the house at 6:10 a.m. Monday through Friday. July-dugv~st 2002 Zajac ¯ Three Forms of Community Living Though she loved the children she encountered in her teaching career, she became frustrated by the time required for extracur-ricular events like sports and cheerleading. She wonders if the congregation made a mistake leaving teaching en masse, and thinks the sisters should have taken more risks in starting new schools and programs.' She also expressed her frustration about the church, where "the hierarchy has not accepted our SRJ growth" and women religious are "only tolerated in the church and not really accepted." This leaves her in the painful posi-tion of being more removed from general church affairs than she would like to be. She feels similarly frustrated in her residential community, where not all have grown theologically and personally to the extent she has. Some of the sisters are not accustomed or very open to sharing, which she finds particularly "life-giving." "People can fulfill all their responsibilities," she explains, "and still not share who they really are." Although she tries to encourage certain ones to be more open, she does it in a gen-tle manner. Still, she finds this group to be a little shallow: "I feel I have community with the people I live with, but it's rather superficial. We're nice to each other. Our horarium for the day is not problematic at all, but I wish we had a depth of sharing that would bring us all to a different place." She believes, however, that living in this house is a trade-off. These people are not her best friends, of which she hag a num-ber outside this convent. While she gains depth and stimula-tion from her outside friendships, here she has the freedom and flexibility to come and go as she pleases without making com-mitments for large blocks of personal time and energy. The final resident of this group is also semiretired. Sister Patricia Louise, in her nineties, likes to cook and works in the parish food pantry. She says that "the diversity of ministry now militates against close community life," which they had when all worked together. This way is "harder but healthier"; it keeps people in contact with diverse fields and offers stimulating con-versation. She says: "It used to be that, if you all taught in the same elementary school, your conversation was always about families in the school, problem kids, what was going on in the parish. But this way we also know what is going on at the col-lege, at the high school, and at the hospitals." Review for Religious Despite their interdependence in the common life, how-ever, they are independent about their use of free time. She says that everyone is very "embedded" in what she is doing on her own and that not living with one's best friends is really an advantage. She adds that she never wanted a residence that was "like a hotel" and prefers the interdependence she finds here. Even though these women do not have "a lot of involvement with each other, what they do has value." A Community of One Sister Zo~ Warnercalls herself "a community of one" because no other sisters live or work with her and she does not have weekly contact with members of her congregation. Fifteen years ago she went out on her own with the blessing of the com-munity (but no funding) to create St. Martin's Children's Center, a temporary residential and resource center for children in fam-ilies undergoing major upheavals in their lives. Like an available set of grandparents, this center can care for up to fifteen chil-dren for a maximum of thirty days each, although the staff tries to restrict it to fewer children and shorter periods of time. Sister Zo~ lived in this large residence with a dog as her sole com-panion while the structure underwent remodeling and opera-tions eventually got underway, and she still lives there. Her purpose in inhabiting the building before its operation was to become a "presence" in the town and to begin to get a "community focus" on the center. She is referring not to the SRJ community now, but to the neighborhoods, businesses, and voluntary groups which support the center's activities. Her strat-egy evidently worked, because, as people came to know her and her plans, they wanted to participate and give support in vari-ous ways. One measure of that support is financial. Sister Zo~ "lives on faith" to provide the center's operating expenses of almost a half million dollars a year, because it has no regular income. Contributions tend to be sporadic yet somehow ade-quate for their needs. She says: "The Lord provides when we need it. from the little things to the big things . We just watch the mailbox and say our prayers. We have never run out of money or closed our doors due to lack of funds." Although she hopes to obtain the services of a part-time grant writer later July-Auffust 2002 Zajac ¯ Three Forms of Community Living "Community is the same as its core. I am a sister from the core of my being." this year, she has done this and all other duties herself, includ-ing caring for the children and teaching life skills to the parents. Although a few Sisters of Reconciliation have come to work with her for brief periods over the years, Sister Zo~ now sees none of them frequently. Yet her connection to the SRJs is strong, and "our sisters., very much know I'm a community member." She explains that her SRJ area superior holds general gatherings three or four times a year and maybe a day of prayer once in a while. By participating in these activities and attend-ing the funerals of older sisters, Sister Zo~ carries the SRJ charism with her and uses it to create a sense of community with whomever she is working: "There's something I have learned., that, no matter where you go, you bring the sisters with you or you bring your experience of community." In addition to SRJ gatherings and ministry associates, Sister Zo~ has a couple of good friends she sees regularly. One of these is a nun from another congregation; the other is a priest friend. This little group frequently celebrates Sunday Mass in the residence of the non-SRJ, and they sometimes follow it with a potluck dinner, occasionally bringing in other friends or neigh-bors. She had to create this new sense of community herself, however, and she attributes this ability to her long-standing experiences with the SRJs: "By coming out here, community wasn't provided for me. I had to create it, and I used the skills, the tools, the experiences that I had had for all those years. to create a life that was community-oriented. But I had to take the reins and take the initiative and have it happen." Would she like more contact with other SRJs? She says that, although she does not require it, she would welcome another sis-ter if one were to want to live and work with her, and perhaps this new person would help care for her when she gets "old." She emphasizes, "Community is not based on the number of times you see people, but on the feelings and interests to see, hear, and share with others." She also takes he~" identity as an SRJ seriously, having followed the advice of her novice mistress never to abbre-viate the word sister, but always to write it out as part of her name Review for Religious and identity. Sister ZoE puts this together with her feelings about community: "Community is the same as its core. I am a sister from the core of my being, and I am a Sister of Reconciliation." "Good" and "Bad" Community Some sisters gave examples of either "good" or "bad" com-munity experiences, which sometimes held more feeling than the brief descriptive words suggest. One sister said that real community spirit was truly shown when her very good friend died suddenly. She received about a hundred sympathy cards, which told her that the loss of this friend was about more than "my private grief." Another sister described spending some time at a residential therapeutic community for religious congrega-tions. The therapy included the sharing of their life stories, a "first" for this particular sister, where the sharing of those "sad and joyful feelings" created a strong bond within the group. Still another told of the difficult period when she lost her job because of organizational restructuring, but still had had the full support of the community: "I was very glad I was a com-munity woman because otherwise I would have had to get a lawyer. In community I just shared what happened, and they journeyed with me through it." Sister MaryJoyce described her experiences in one of the first experimental communities of group government in 1969. In this new group for which everyone had volunteered, there were between ten and fifteen sisters at various times over several years, and they were trying out new approaches to teaching as well as living. This situation was "life-giving": the participants were all "high energy" types and risk takers as well. They all cared for each other and the outside world, and were concerned about where people were with God, faith, and prayer. Sister Kathryn Ann described something similar. When her ministry took her away from others in her own order, she lived in an apartment house that people came to call The Nunnery because in addition to herself there were six sisters from another con-gregation, a priest, and a brother, all in individual apartments. Although they "lived singly" and ministered in different places, they got together frequently for prayer, meals, and Mass, often signaled by a knock on the wall. July-Angvtst 2002 Zajac ¯ Three Forms of Community Living 3.90 Sister Mary Magdalene has had her share of feeling less than appreciated by other SRJs, yet had a wonderful experience when she lived in a rural area with three other sisters, all teachers, who endured together the crisis of the school's closing. Although one of them was the principal of the school and also the supe-rior of the convent, they interacted as equals and "were just peo-ple together," frequently cooking and sharing meals on the weekends in an era when most convents still had cooks. Although they were together in the school, they also spent outside time together, but "it wasn't mandated. It was a choice we were mak-ing." This relaxed atmosphere where everyone's talents were recognized was contributed to by a pastor who was supportive and friendly and occasionally took them all out to dinner. Another sister, Sister Peg, described an aspect of her first job as a hospital chaplain. Living in an apartment across the street from the hospital, she provided hospitality for visiting sisters and especially those recuperating from surgery or illness. The informality and spontaneous "ease with which the sisters moved in and out of my life" was an exciting and fulfilling period. These positive experiences of community do not necessar-ily require other sisters or vowed people. Sister Benita Rogers shared one such experience when she was leaving an ethnically mixed parish that she had brought together over a number of years. Addressing a large parish group, Sister Benita, who does not speak Spanish, expressed her desire that perhaps now the diocese would assign a bilingual person as her replacement. A Hispanic man stood and spoke for the group: "It doesn't mat-ter whether or not you can speak Spanish. You have the corazon, the heart. That's how you've communicated. You've read us with your heart." It is the major congregational gatherings, however, that sev-eral sisters cited as the "best expression" of community spirit. One of these celebrations is the Congregational Days, when all sisters from the West come together with former sisters as well as affiliate members to celebrate the SRJs as a whole. The other is the jubilee celebration, held anr~ually on the feast day of their patron. Families and friends are invited to participate in the joyful celebration of the anniversaries of their vows as Sisters of Reconciliation. Among these hundreds of people there is a won- Review for Religious derful "spirit that you can almost touch." Everyone feels a part of this group energy and spirituality. It leads people to say that "the most profound experience of community is to experience us praying together." Although Sister Rafaela says she "has never had a bad com-munity experience," this is not the case for many sisters. Sisters described instances where they felt alienated, isolated, or at least not fully appreci-ated in the community, both in their local group and in the larger group. Often the difficulty stemmed from some-one's personality or behavior. When people are too busy to notice others or care about what they are undergoing, those others can feel "deadened" and not supported, making them withdraw from the group. On the other hand, those who "demand too much" from others in terms of time or resources make community living difficult. These people are usually those who have "not done their home-work" regarding their own interpersonal issues. Sometimes, carrying unresolved emotional traumas from their early life, they attempt to hide with the aid of alcohol, a too busy sched-ule, or emotional distancing of others. When people are "afraid of their own spirituality" or are "not willing to be honest" with each other, communal sharing and support are undermined from the start. Sometimes there is a plain lack of openness to others. Sister Joan Claire Mendoza described such a case. She lives in a large convent with eight or nine other sisters, four of whom work in the attached school, while the rest work in various other min-istries. They are together for morning Mass and one evening dinner per week. Although these sisters are "polite" to Sister Joan Claire, it is clear to her that they really do not want her there. Three of them maintain very close relations and actually "make up their own community." Fortunately, Sister Joan Claire has developed a personal and professional network of friends and colleagues from whom she receives most of her emotional Those who "demand too much" from others in terms of time or resources make community living difficult. -201 --- . J~dy-dugust 2002 Zajac " Three Forms of Community Living sustenance. Another sister described a similar case. She felt so rejected that she was "not even sure she was still an SRJ." Others expressed their isolation when they felt that their talents, gifts, or ministry were not appreciated. If community members remain or act unaware or. uninformed about them and their work, those living in common as well as those minister-ing on their own can be affected. Sometimes the personalities of the people living together are too divergent or their schedules too diverse to allow for harmonious living. Highly divergent worldviews in people can also make daily life uncom-fortable. In other instances a quiet person is misconstrued to be someone quite alien to her real self. One sister said she had been surprised to learn that her housemates had thought she was very self-confident and did not need any help or support. In another convent she had been perceived as a threat to others because she had more education than most of the others. The biggest obstacle to community, however, one sister said, occurs when people do not maintain confidences. This causes a shat-tering of trust and pushes people back to isolation. A few sisters expressed frustration or anger with the com-munity at large. One told of an instance when her mother was dying. Although everyone knew about this, there was little inter-est, caring, or support shown. Another sister said that several years ago she was angry with the general community for giving financial support to a foreign political group that she thought was wrong. Another sister said that sometimes lack of equality really bothered her. Because of her age she had been denied permission to study for an advanced degree, yet in that very year three sisters older than herself were approved and funded for graduate education. When this woman protested this as unjust, she received an apology from the president of the con-gregation, but still no approval for further study. In this article we have examined how sisters in one reli-gious community define and create "community." There is lit-tle general consensus about the term, although some common values are evident. In general, all agree that something must be shared and that there is a feeling of interdependence or inter-connectedness. How and what things are shared, however, varies according to the type of living group that is chosen. Individual Review for Religious sisters' stories were interwoven here into three composite pic-tures of community living: intentional community, residential community, and a community of one. Also, some examples of what creates "good" and "bad" community were given. The various types of community exist in various circum-stances and are experienced in various ways by individual sisters. There seems to be no one right way. There is a considerable diversity of views, activities, roles, and living arrangements. This diversity contrasts strongly with the pre-Vatican II con-vents, with their physical proximity to the apostolic work the sis-ters did, their thorough discipline, and their homogeneity of life conditions. Note ~ I later discovered that this was the original European name of a congregation now in the United States with a different name. Bibliography Beane, Marjorie Noterman. 1993. From framework to freedom: A history of the Sister Formation Conference. New York: University Press of America. Eby, Judy, RSM. 2000. "A little squabble among nuns"? The Sister Formation crisis and the patterns of authority and obedience among American women religious, 1954-1971. Unpublished doc-toral dissertation, Saint Louis University. Emerson, Robert M., ed. 1983. Contemporary field research: A collec-tion of readings. Prospect Heights, Illinois: Waveland Press. Merton, Robert K., Marjorie Fiske, and Patricia L. Kendall. 1990. The focused interview: A manual of problems and procedures. New York: Free Press. Powdermaker, Hortense. 1960. Stranger and friend: The way of an anthropologist. New York: W.W. Norton. Quifionez, Lora Ann, CDP, and Mary Daniel Turner SNDdeN. 1992. The transformation of American Catholic sisters. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Vatican Council H: The conciliar and postconciliar documents and More postconciliar documents. 1975, 1982. Edited by Austin Flannery OP. Northport, New York: Costello Publishing Co. Wittberg, Patricia, SC. 1990. Dyads and triads: The sociological impli-cations of small-group living arrangements. Review for Religious 43, no. 1 (January-February): 43-51. July-August 2002 Zajac ¯ Three Forms of Community Li~ing ¯ 1993. Residence stability and decline in Roman Catholic reli-gious orders of women: A preliminary investigation. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 32: 76-82. Zajac, Barbara. 1999a. Becoming a nun: A general model of entering religious life. Review for Religious 58 (July-August): 403-423. --. 1999b. Community suicide: Secularization in Catholic nuns with the manipulation of ritual and symbol. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of California, Riverside. Wounded The unseen spider ripped my flesh, and drew blood, nourishment, afresh, and left a black-red crater there: pink, puffy, filled with pus - not fair. A round wound one inch wide oozing fluid down the side. I've been a meal for a foreign beast, stamped with a bump, a spider's feast. This tiny spider sucked sustenance from me, drew life, left a mark, for all to see - how dare he! Am I any different? Don't I do the same? Feed on the Christ, wound him, without shame? Michael J. Lydon Reviev; for Religious JOEL GIALLANZA Expert Practitioners of Union in Community Once upon a time community was uncomplicated, ever a delight in which to witness and work, a constant joy to be and build. Beg your pardon! Are we talking about reality here? Yes, but only by flashback to the language and imagery of a different era. Let me explain. In researching various writings on religious community--most of them published from the 1930s to the early 1960s--I wondered if the lived experience of community during those decades matched the somewhat romantic and idealistic rhetoric about it. I decided that it prob-ably did not; rather, the rhetoric offered encouragement and hope as supports for the lived experience. Religious knew then and continue to experience now the complexity of community life. The word community itself has a complex meaning. It means more than religious living in the same residence. We know that community members may be scattered across cities and even across continents. Another facet includes the personalities and perspectives of the members. Similarity and unanimity are no guarantee that a community is healthy and thriving or even that the members know one another more than superficially. Community encompasses the members' cultures and customs and their ages and attitudes. And so we can ask: How do we recognize one another as members of the Joel Giallanza CSC last wrote for us in May-June 2000. His address is Province Center; 1101 St. Edward's Drive; Austin, Texas 78704. July-August 2002 Giallanza ¯ Expert Practitioners of Union community? Community also encompasses the unique heritage and history of each religious institute and the cast of charac-ters who have lived that heritage and been a part of that history. And there are our own experiences in life and ministry. The complexity of religious community does not diminish its potential for living up to the rhetoric of earlier eras. In truth, it has all the potential with which humanity was invested by God at creation. And yet, when we discuss the many factors currently influencing religious life, the task of formulating an all-encompassing definition or description of community is quite daunting and sometimes discouraging. This perception, this temptation to invest less time and energy in such discus-sions, can have a detrimental effect on the quality of community we hope to build for the future. These present reflections are intended to resist that temptation and to encourage continu-ing efforts to form and live and sustain community. Forming Community In the apostolic exhortation Vita consecrata (hereafter VC), Pope John Paul II writes: "Consecrated persons are asked to be true experts of communion and to practice the spirituality of communion as 'witnesses and architects of the plan for unity which is the crowning point of human history in God's design'" (§46). This is a significant challenge; to be "true experts" at almost anything in our world is a considerable achievement. Being expert practitioners in the spirituality of communion calls for more. John Paul's understanding of communion is incarna-tional: communion does not exist apart from those who strive to live it daily. The etymology of the word "expert" provides an important insight. Often the term is used in a static way, indicating an acquired ability needing little if any further development. The root meaning, however, is quite dynamic: an expert is one who tries and who learns by trying. As a person's ability matures, there are always new approaches to try and new things to learn. The words experiment and experience have the same root. One way, then, of becoming experts in communion is through our experiments and experiences in community. We must keep try-ing and keep learning. Community is never finished. Review f

Issue 60.2 of the Review for Religious, 2001. ; Making Connections Livin g S p i r i tu ally C o,mmunjty Living Refl:ections MARCH APRIL 2001 VOLUME 60 NUMBER 2 Review for Religious helps people respond and be faithful to God's universal call to boliness by making available to them the spiritual legacies tbat flow from the cbarisms :of Catholic consecrated life. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bimonthly at Saint Louis Universi .t-y by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ° \Veb site: u~'w.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP Mount St. Mary'~ Seminaw; Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2001 Review for Religious Perlnission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) coutained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law, All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. 0 for religious LIVING OUR CATHOLIC LEGACIES Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm ¯ Judy Sharp " James and Joan F~lling Adrian Gaudin SC Sr. Raymond Marie Gerard FSP Joel Rippinger OSB Bishop Carlos AI Sevilla SJ Patricia Wittberg sC MARCH APRIL 2001 VOLUME 60 NUMBER 2 118 139 Feeding the Beast: Postmodern Anxiety and Generational Challenges Christopher Robinson CM reflects on the question "Who are you and what do you mean?" asked by a postmodern consciousness or sensibility. Community and Communion: Making the Connections Doris Gottemoeller RSM presents four dimensions of a powerful analogy between Eucharistic life and religious community life that sheds light on both and shows between them a common spirituality. 152 Contemplatiori to Attain Love: A Paradigm for Apostolic Prayer Gerald M. Fagin sJ explains the four points of the final exercise in the Ignatian Exercises as a description of the prayer of an active minister. 162 What to Know about Discernment Ernest E. Larkin OCarm provides a succinct explanation of the cognitive, affective, and mystical ways of evaluating our experiences which we identify as discernment. Review for Religious 171 179 Apostolic Community in the Assumptionist/Augustinian Tradition John L. Franck AA sees, with St. Augustine, that religious communities work to shape our very lives and thus our very work in the world. Mission and Community in the Neighborhood: A Personal Reflection Catherine M. Harmer MMS shares her experience of being a religious community m(rnber living and participating in the community and ministry of neighborhoods. 187 196 201 Taking the Psalms to Heart Francis Dorff OPraem walks us reflectively through St. Romuald's Brief Rule so that we may live the psalms wholeheartedly. The Cross of Auschwitz: A Lenten Reflection Dennis J. Billy CSSR enters us into the silence of Auschwitz and its mystery of evil met by the mystery of the cross. The World Will Be Saved by Beauty Joan L. RoccasalvoCSJ revives, in ways both simple and subtle, an awareness of, a yearning for, the several transcendentals that have their warm, bright oneness in God. epzr me s 116 Prisms 206 Canonical Counsel: Incorporation into an Institute of Consecrated Life or a Society of Apostolic Life 212 Book Reviews March-April 2001 As John Paul II closed the holy doors at St. Peter's in Rome on January 6, the day that the Jubilee of the Year 2000 ended, he issued an apostolic letter titled "At the Beginning of the New Millennium." Similar to the apostolic letter issued in November 1994, "As the Third Millennium Draws Near," this letter challenges all Catholic people in the everyday practice of their faith. The pope acknowledges that in the first letter it was easy to name specific themes and suggest certain practices as he outlined a program of preparation for us Catholics as we looked towards the new millennium. Now that we are living in the new millennium, it appears more difficult to suggest some sort of schedule for a seemingly unending roll of future years. Not to be daunted, the pope sums up his approach in his call to contemplate the face of Christ, with the manifold ways that this face appears to us in all life's circumstances. He grants that he is not inventing some kind of new program, but rather looking afresh at the program found in the Gospels and in the living tradition of the church. What receives strong emphasi~ is the pope's desire for us to make our own a spirituality of communion. This phrase, spirituality of communion, the pope had identified in his 1994 ap6stolic letter, Vita consecrata, as describing the mission especially appropriate to Review for Religious members of consecrated-life institutes. No matter the charism that specifies the mission of particular religious lifeforms, the pope had requested that all men and women vowed in conse-crated life embrace a spirituality of communion. Religious were encouraged to consciously work at a communion spirituality as an essential part of the gospel spirituality which all share. This spir-ituality of communion needs to inform their community life and their mission. By his extension of the call to a spirituality of communion to others, John Paul II has not taken away his invitation to those living the consecrated lifeform to be grounded in a spirituality of communion. Proclaiming now that all Catholics have a respon-sibility to work at developing this spirituality of communion for our times, the pope underlines a special charge for those vowed in consecrated life to both educate and form others in the Catholic community to understand and live this spirituality of communion. He tells us that this effort will make the church "the home and school of communion." Such creative energy is a spirituality that enhances our awareness of the trinitarian God dwelling within us and embracing us with a divine life of communion. It is a spirituality that makes come alive our real-ization of the mystical Body in which we see our brothers and sisters truly living a life that is "part of us." It is a spirituality that brings us to see and appreciate the gifts of others not only as gifts from God to them, but also as gifts from God and them to us. It is a spirituality that teaches us how to make room for all our brothers and sisters, so that we truly exclude no one from the table of God our Father and accept what it means to bear one another's burdens. What is so often lacking in the services that are provided secularly (and perhaps we need to examine our own ministries too) is not the actual "body'-' of services but the "soul" people must put into those services. We must take any "mechanisms" of service and put a soul into them, a soul that gives them full meaning through fullness of communion. In a postmodern culture, a wise and holy man has proposed linking our Catholic growth in holiness with the special needs of our new millennium. The spirituality of communion he proposes is a privileged and relevant way of imitating Jesus, our incarnate and redeeming Lord. David L. Fleming Sy March-April 2001 CHRISTOPHER ROBINSON Feeding the Beast: Postmodern Anxiety, and Generational Challenges A little story in Charles Lamert's 1997 book on post-modernism seems pertinent to many current discussions on the past, present, and future of religious life: One fine morning the residents of a small village woke to find a very big but not unfriendly beast well settled in the center of their small town and mundane lives. Being by nature trusting and kind, the people repressed fear and welcomed the beast. In spite of its enormous height and girth, and the mass of its settled flesh, the beast posed no threats. All he did, in the most matter-of-fact way, was say "Feed me." The villagers complied. Upon devour-ing what he had been fed, he simply repeated his demand, without inflection, "Feed me." Eventually, without vote or complaint, feeding the beast came to be what the village was about.' Concern about the future of religious life and its unique contribution to the church has been around for as long as I can remember. It has become, for some of us, an all-too-real version of the village beast. Let me try to clarify just exactly what I mean. In the preface of her recent book Finding the Treasure, Sandra Schneiders says that "virtually every Christopher Robinson CM is completing a doctorate at Louvain with a focus on the theology of religious life. His address is Leopold I Straat 41; B-3000 Leuven; Belgium. Review for Religious question raised today leads directly into the issue of what religious life is and means.''2 The questions I raise here are directly related to what religious life actually is, as distinct from what religious may do. The question of meaning is related, as Schneiders shows, to the pervasive postmodernism in Western industrial countries. At least in the United States, this has affected the young people; they have been socialized from birth with a postmodern consciousness. Whether or not religious life in the West continues depends upon having a plausible description of it that is intelligible to those who are significantly affected by this consciousness. My hope is that either we can befriend these questions of being and meaning, our village beast, without constantly serving it or we can actually turn the tables. The village beast might be capable of feeding us. .What Is Our Village Beast? In the context in which I found it, the story of the not-unfriendly lumbering beast refers to the effect that some ques-tions of meaning have upon the people who entertain them: "Before long, it grows to become that which preoccupies, even defines, the villages.''3 Today many of us are preoccupied with the nature and meaning of religious life. The question of who we are and what meaning we offer to the church and the world is not a non-friendly one, even if it is consuming our energies. It is not non-friendly because postmodernism, the sensibility operative in the West, is not by its nature hostile. Though postmodernism has been defined in many ways and will continue to present itself as a sensibility worth studying, here I wish to highlight its more pos-itive attributes without discounting negative ones. Postmodernism is playful, it deligt]ts in the unique, it is non-linear. It is suspicious of universals and of supposed evolutionary trajectories that are bound to arrive at bigger and better things. For it, there is no self-evident center of all meaning. Postmodern sen-sibility distrusts global institutionalization and celebrates nonuni-formity. Intrinsically pluralistic, it rejects exclusivist claims and triumphalist truth statements. Schneiders emphasizes three postmodern characteristics that are necessary for locating religious life in the contemporary con-text. She says that postmodernism is "a child of and a protest against modernity.''4 In other words, postmodern sensibility rejects the unifying yet reductionist approach of modernity that subjects March-April 2001 Robinson ¯ Feeding the Beast reality to what can be proven, manipulated, or categorized by an objective scientific method. Postmodernism is radically conscious of how science has both enhanced human life and brought enor-mous risks to it and the environment. It insists that modernity has not lived up to its claims of creating a better world through rationality. Second, Schneiders points out that the postmodern con-sciousness has eroded or simply refused to acknowledge the foun-dations upon which many modern projects have risen: "Who is to say that any construction of reality, any set of beliefs or mode of behavior, has universal validity and therefore any claim on me?''s On the negative side, this position means that postmodern thought is relativistic. On the positive side, postmodern thought has effec-tively eroded the foundations of ethnic hatred, anthropocentrism, sexism, and so forth. Third, postmodernism rejects the idea that there is a grand story, a metanarrative, that can provide universal meaning for all people of all times in all places. The metanarrative purports to present the ideal of what all people should be; persons who are not in the story are hounded until they come around to the group's way of thinking. Postmodernism's suspicion of the grand story subverts such use of force to make all people over into a general-ized image, an image devoid of particularity or difference. On the negative side, postmodern consciousness may produce alienation because no acceptable common story bridges the distances between people.6 Meaning and Being Our village beast is more complicated than the brief question "Who are you and what do you mean?" The beast is this ques-tion as asked by a postmodern consciousness or sensibility. The question threatens because many religious congregations and communities (if not all) are firmly rooted in modernity, not post-modernity. Consequently, the beast appears threatening but is not unfriendly. The postmodern question is really not unfriendly because postmodernism is not necessarily antagonistic and may be favor-able. For example, postmoderns are captivated by the unusual, and what could be more unusual in the contemporary world than a life characterized by celibacy? Postmoderns reject the negative Review for Religious and sometimes disastrous effects of metanarratives because meta-narratives envision all people as the same. Religious men and women have a similar view that often puts them on the margins of society for rejecting metanarrative rhetoric that would keep the alienated far from the resources they require for self-actual-ization and fulfillment. Such rhetoric includes the opinions that "if they would only work hard enough they wouldn't be poor" and "if they would stay at home and have children they wouldn't be harassed." Particularly in the Western world, certainly in the history of the United States, religious communities have consis-tently promoted human well-being through education, healthcare, and social service regardless of the creed of those receiving assistance. What could be more postmodern than that? Religious often find themselves in prophetic positions in relation to the univer-sal church. Such elements of decentralization are, in a way, the human side of the gospel message lived out through the charisms of particular communities made up of particular persons. The explicit goal, obviously, is not to decentralize the church. But the human face, voice, and touch provided by dedicated religious create a space in which people hear the gospel in unique and specific ways. Such efforts and understandings of decentralization are postmodern. So what is the problem? The postmod-ern phenomenon has entered our lives and, in a manner neither unfriendly nor always unattractive, asks: Who are you and what do you mean? The problem is that we continue to feed the beast, this lumbering postmodern.collection of con-tradictor~ images, with rationalizations that stem from modernity. Of course, feed it or not, it is not going to go away. The beast story describes the lives of the villagers as mun-dane. Postmoderns have critiqued modernity for exactly that, being boring and mundane. Universals are boring. Nondifferentiation has no room for distinctive and entertaining attributes. Whether or not the perception is true, the postmodern West sees religious men and women as being just like everyone else, and so we are largely Postmodernism rejects the idea that there is a grand story, a metanarrative, that can provide universal meaning for all people of all times in all places. March-April 2001 Robinson ¯ Feeding the Beast invisible. We have done a good job of assimilating and affirming the world. We live individual lives in individual ways in individual spaces. Postmodernism consciously ignores anything that is "the same" in favor, of the new, distinct, unusual, entertaining, distracting, and so forth. There is a dangerous .and antihuman element to this that includes consumerism, materialism, trivial distraction. There is also something of positive value. I have not claimed and would not and cannot claim that, because of postmodern consciousness, religious need to create distinctive-lifestyle enclaves that provoke the curiosity and interest of the others in society. To keep the postmodern sensi-bility entertained, we would have to have general chapters and assemblies adopting new gimmicks every six months. The question of our invisibility is, however, a serious one. Because postmod-ernism disdains rationalistic answers, seeing them as dank mush-rooms emerging from metanarratives, it is not going to wait for an explanation from us about our lifestyle. As soon as a religious begins, "Well, you have to understand that once upon a time the Second Vatican Council created a spirit of openness to the world that we as religious had forgotten," the postmodern mind closes down. Even for the educated young adult Catholic, Vatican II is "that great thing that happened sometime in the middle of the last century. Have you read it? The language is hopelessly gender exclusive." The revolutionary event that altered the course of religious life is now considered a metanar-rative from a time long past. Add to this that the same Vatican is now the source of documents like DominusJesus that remind every-one that there is only one true and universal Christian church. " Truth claims aside, such statements sound to the postmodern mind like metanarratives. Postmodernism is fast paced and will not wait for us to explain endlessly our being and meaning through solemn discourses, province plans, and mission statements. This is particularly true when the observable reality does not live up to the written ideology. We appear as more of "the same." Modernity Is Still Operational There is a certain logic to keeping our roots in modernity. First, our charisms, congregations, communities, and reforms are based on great stories, not the least of which are the gospel nar-ratives. Second, it is Vatican II that ushered us into the modern Review for Religious world. Ironically, it did so just as the world was on the brink of postmodernity. The call to return to the charism of the founder resulted in a great deal of historical research and theological reflection. Much of this was dependent upon the historical-crit-ical method that typifies modernity. Third, through our com-mitted lives we are striving in God's name to make the world a better place for everyone and everything. Without nuance this can be translated by radical postmoderns into a universalizing, nonparticularizing amalgamation of all peo-ple into one standard of living, one creed, and one political system. So the village beast that has lumbered into our midst is the postmodern question of being and meaning. It is a not-unfriendly thing, but it is a very intimidating, beastly thing. From the modernist perspective, reli-gious and their communities have welcomed the beast into their villages. It has been ana-lyzed, considered, weighed, measured, and .continuously fed with the best sociological, historical, and systematic information in the hope that it will remain docile or maybe even go away. But our numbers continue to shrink, morale among the membership is precarious, and questions about our congregations; future often preoccupy at least some of us. The popular perception today might be that feeding this beast is what we are all about. It seems we have'not found a solid faith-based solution to the vocation crisis through the human sciences--which, to the modern mind, have always served humanity well. Postmodernism is a sensibiiity. The West itself still operates according to the rationalism of the modern era and will most likely continue to do so, with some revision. And so we religious are challenged to find our own methods of drawing together the best of both expressions of reality: postmodern sensibility and the dependability of a reformed modernity. This is not as difficult as we may imagine--given our access to resources, the security of our traditions, the creativity among us, and the presence of the Spirit of God, who called us into being in the first place. The challenge, however, is to discover how the village beast, the ques-tion of being and meaning, has begun to create internal conflicts The village beast that has lumbered into our midst is the postmodern question of being and meaning. t23 -o- ~lqarcb-Aptql 2001 Robinson ¯ Feeding the Beast within congregations and communities, particularly between moderns and postmoderns. The Village Beast Is a Member of the Community The postmodern questions about meaning and being will not simply disappear. There are two ways of dealing with the ques-tions, two ways of feeding and befriending the village beast. Oversimplifying for brevity's sake, I would say that postmodernism is present in religious life in two different forms. Religious over forty have assimilated surprising amounts of postmodern sensi-bility, and religious under forty were practically born with a post-modern consciousness. Accordingly, many believe that the vocation crisis is a solvable problem while others see it as a sign that reli-gious life is incomplete or inadequate for the present age. These are modern assessments. We are working against ourselves if we seek answers in modernity when we ourselves have assimilated or have been socialized by postmodern sensibilities. We will not accept modern answers if we are postmoderns ourselves. Community leadership, usually held by persons over forty, seeks modern rational avenues for vocation initiatives or charism rein-terpretation while living mostly postmodern lives themselves. Being born into the postmodern culture is distinct from assim-ilating it. Se~in D. Sammon FSM, in his "Last Call For Religious Life," expresses well the internal and external collisions occurring in religious life between Baby Boomers and the Thirteeners, those who constitute the thirteenth generation produced by the United States.7 Others have referred to this cohort as Generation X or Gen-X, although Thirteeners is a more accurate term for those born between 1961 and 1981. Identifying the tensions that exist between generations is, I believe, as important as identifying the darker side of the postmodernism that has crept into religious life through assimilation. Postmodernism as Assimilated The Future of Religious Life in the United States (FORUS), a study by Miriam Ukeritis CSJ and David Nygren CM, alerted congre-gations to many things, two of which I will emphasize here. First, the data showed that many individual religious have attitudes and lifestyles, values and behaviors, that reflect cultural assimilation. Review for Religious This cultural assimilation is not necessarily indicated by the clothes we wear or the style of housing we have adopted, but it is observable in attitudes. The individualism indicated by the FORUS data in areas of career, self-determination, and affective-support systems reflects current postmodern sensibilities. Many religious find that their ministerial careers, whether parochial, diocesan, or institutional, require dedication and energy that prevent their participation in projects and activities within their congregation,s Their primary relationships begin to reflect their ministerial setting. In this, Baby Boomers and Thirteeners share a similar postmodern attitude. Sammon notes, "Most Thirteeners feel that the people with whom you have day-to-day contact and share meaningful conversations and a sense of closeness consti-ruie family. They trust their friendships over all other relation-ships.'' 9 FORUS indicates that day-to-day contact with their community is, for many, minimal or nonexistent. Assimilation is not necessarily a good or a bad element pre-sent in contemporary religious life. It is data. The interesting thing to consider, I think, is that many religious over the age of forty have accepted various attitudes and lifestyles that reflect postmodern culture and yet continue to live under a rule that assumes only the modern. For example, religious who live alone and work diligently within a nontraditional ministry might, in spite of efforts, find it difficult to follow various aspects of their constitutions, such as communal prayer, daily Eucharist, annual retreat, and general chapters. True to postmodern sensibilities, the same religious might also defend their right to exercise their ministry in ways that elude strict modern principles. They do not abide by their constitutions or statutes or provincial norms with exactitude because, in their assessment of their specific ministerial context, it simply cannot be done. In other words, the postrnodern question "What are you and what do you mean?" cannot simply be answered by handing over the constitutions. Members of teaching communities (founded to teach the chil-dren of immigrants) who are now pastoral administrators cannot point handily to a founding story to explain their doing this particular ministry. The members each have different, unique stories that are loosely connected to their community's charism as reinterpreted by its mission statement over the past twenty or forty years. This, in my view, is evidence o.f postmodern assimilation. I25-- Marcb-Ap~ql 2001 Robinson ¯ Feeding. the Beast L Postmodernism as Culturally Intuited Add to this the complicated problem of generational corn-munication. What those over forty have assimilated through expe-rience and reflection, those born after 1961 know intuitively. Their entire way of interacting with the world is steeped in postmod-ernism. Sammon clarifies this issue when discussing the current tensions between the Baby Boomer generation and Thirteeners: Many midlifers judge Thirteeners to be a disappointing ¯ bunch: ill-informed, intellectually dull, politically inactive, religiously conservative, and hopelessly materialistic. [Thirteener~] have grown tired of hearing their foiebears take credit for things they believe their elders did not do: invent rock and roll, start the civil-rights movement, stop the war in Vietnam, reform the Catholic Church single-hand-edly with Vatican II. The vast majority of Thirteeners ques-tion the self-perception of a number of boomers that they and their middle-aged compatriots have been the most creative, idealistic, morally conscious generation in the his-tory of the nation and church, if not the world.~° Those in midlife have assimilated certain postmodern sensi-bilities without having been to the manner born. This is why their sense of individualism and meaning can be distinguished from that of Thirteeners. Many midlife religious, looking back on their for-mative years with love-hate nostalgia, may find themselves won-dering why their younger compatriots have not had to work very hard to get to where they are: The latter were not put through rigorous formation practices, tests of blind obedience in trivial matters, the wearing of strange garb; they have not feared the imposition of some penance for having a particular friendship as we were! Such memories and ~eflections would indicate, to a degree, the older generation's dependence upon a grand story or metanarrative. The younger generation have not "earned their place"!--which is an assessment based on modern values, not post-modern ones. On the other hand, midlifers, with their assimilated postmodernism, refuse to alter certain lifestyle patterns that appear to be departures from the constitutional religious life they still see value in. Thirteeners are genuinely suspicious of any all-encompass-ing story that is supposed to somehow explain reality for them: What lies behind this aversion is [Thirteeners'] opposition to the sixties idealism of their older brothers and sisters. Young people of the 1960s won many gains for those who previ- Review for Religious ously had no voice. The decade failed, however, to achieve its promises. One generation's gains eventually became the losses of another. With their high ideals, baby boomers (born between 1943 and 1960) undertook organized social actions--but with what results for the generation that followed? An AIDS epidemic rather than sexual liberation; nuclear anxiety rather than peace; skyrocketing college tuition instead of low-cost education. Xers quickly came to the conclusion that they had been left with a culture in crisis,n Tension and Deeper Irony There is yet a deeper irony contained within this tension. Efforts in the 1960s to raise social consciousness were truly suc-cessful. Now it is quite common for parishes and parochial and public schools to engage in ~fforts on behalf of the poor and dis-possessed, the underrepresented populations, and also to be con-scious of global justice issues. The irony inherent in this dynamic is simple: Thirteeners are not interested in religious life for the good works the previous generation did accomplish and still strives to accomplish. Their postmodern minds and hearts take their awareness of the need for ecohuman well-being for granted and assume that efforts for such well-being will continue. What the Thirteeners want and seek is the spirituality and the communal life that have consistently been the essential meaning of conse-crated religious life, whether contemplative, monastic, mendicant, or apostolic. Sammon says, "Xers ultimately have a yearning, both implic-idy and explicitly, for an almost mystical encounter with the human and the divine. They find the religious more readily in personal experience and regard their own experience as superior to the accounts of others or truths handed down by way of creed or cus-tom.'' 12 A ramification of this sensibility is that Thirteeners who are currently members of or interested in some religious congre-gation remain or join because 'of who the community are for them, not what works they perform. This does not mean that the work is not important or attractive or life-giving or God-sent. But rarely does a community member do a ministry that could not be done without the benefit of religious life. The focus on practical purpose is a trait of modernity that the older generation of religious retain. On this front, there can be little agreement between Baby Boomers March-April 2001 Robinson ¯ Feeding the Beast and Thirteeners, both of whom exhibit the extremes and incon-sistencies of their cohort characteristics. The difficult task, in my opinion, is to admit that the post-modern village beast is in our midst, in the form of the tension between the assimilated postmodernism of the Boomers and the socializing postmodernism that has enveloped and permeated the Thirteeners from the day of their birth. It is present in the ways that religious have--for forty years and counting--been assimi-lating various cultural sensibilities such as individualism and careerism. It is present each time younger religious hear with skep-ticism of the solidly valuable accomplishments their elders are justly credited with. The postmodern questions of meaning and being are not merely coming at us from the larger society. They are a part of who we are. I mentioned earlier that many of us, of several generations, are concerned and sometimes even preoccupied with the question of our future as religious and members of vowed institutes. Our future relates directly to the question of who we are and what we mean in the contemporary world. The several generations approach and answer these questions differently. Taming this beast so that it does not define us--becoming what we are all about, becoming our very identity--requires two things. We need to understand explicitly and clearly the culture in which we find our-selves without making knee-jerk negative judgments, and we need to engage in unavoidably difficult conversations about genera-tional tensions. The Media as Language In contemporary American culture, postmodern sensibilities are inculcated most clearly through the mass media. The obvious places to start identifying postmodern tendencies are television, popular music (especially so-called alternative radio stations), movies, videos, and cyberspace. This may appear to be old news. But I mean more than simply watching or listening and letting a previously adopted metanarrative do the interpreting. We should not approach the media with dismissive attitudes. The media are the languages of the culture. Languages themselves are not flawed, unjust, shallow, or materialistic, though much that fills the media is all of the above. Still, there is a message to be heard beneath the glitz and glitter, the shallow sounds and images. In recent years the Review for Religious number of films without a "happily ever after" ending perhaps indicates a low-grade belief that the metanarrative that brings everything neatly together in the end is over. Many popular songs contain spiritual images, perhaps indicating that Thirteeners and their children are not as materialistic as people imagine. Many websites come up if one types in the word God, too many to inves-tigate in a single sitting, and they run the gamut of traditions and expressions. If we understand the media somewhat, or at least are alert to the undercurrent messages they may be communicating, we can begin to tame the question of meaning among ourselves. Patricia Wittberg SC has claimed that religious life's attractiveness for potential members relates directly to how well we understand and con-verse about our specific culture's areas of social discontinuity. Her claim, supported by others such as Sammon, is that Thirteeners particu-larly are looking for community and spiritual-ity. This seeking shows perhaps the deepest anguish of Western industrial culture and calls attention to the dark side of postmodernity. On the other hand, specific works of religious communities are directed at poverty, abandonment, alienation, and other symptoms of a society's anguish--but such symptoms are not the anguish itself. This anguish is expressed by a society's operative language; in our case, this is the media.'3 Understanding postmodernity involves engaging the media. One example among many is the ability to live and relate vicari-ously or virtually. In this world of what has been called hyperre-ality, the communication accomplished through media images is perceived as more real than the things themselves: reality is what is communicated in this hyperreal or superreal way. Charles Lamert, noting the effect on viewers of a movie like Dead Man Walking, asks: "What is the power of the movies to evoke deep feelings in such an artificial environment, bad popcorn and all? Somehow this is a medium that by projecting images before us causes us to project ourselves into those images, drawing out feel-ing from our unconsciousness . When a movie is over we leave, and leave behind the feelings."~4 In other words, because our primary means of gaining infor-mation and making sense of our culture is the media, our sensibility Understanding postmodernity involves engaging the media. March-April 2001 Robinson ¯ Feeding the Beast might last only as long as what is immediately before us. The feelings have been real. Television sight-and-sound images of Balkan ethnic cleansing produced real horror, genuine sadness and empathy. But, simply by watching CNN, we cannot say we have experienced ethnic cleansing or known anyone who has. We do, however, tend to base our belief about the world and our involvement in it on these feelings evoked by real experiences that in fact we have not experienced. Consequently, we are living virtually. Engagement and Risk Virtual living can be translated into virtual ministry if one is not careful, and so it is essential to be aware of this dynamic in order to respond to society's deepest anguish, recognizing that longings for the spiritual or the transcendent, and for a real and not merely a virtual community, are true 10ngings deserving of true ful-fillment, not virtual fulfillment. I recently removed my name from a list-serv so as to distance myself from the temptation to live vir-tually- isolated from the real. One list member wrote, "All of you are my community." Of the more than one thousand subscribers, I have never consciously met a single one in person. The feelings shared, the stories told, and the wisdom exchanged were valid and also hyperreal. I was personally moved by many of the stories and certainly prayed for many who requested prayers. The dark side of postmodernity, however, its alienation factor, is in the inevitable realization that this "community" of mine consists of more than a thousand persons with whom I have never had a face-to-face con-versation and never shared a meal. Religious life offers people real, not hyperreal, community and a real context in which to explore spirituality. From the mod-ern perspective, the ability to connect and interact electronically with thousands of people is a miracle. For those born into post-modernism, it simply is not real and cannot provide real commu-nity. Perhaps it is now time to ask whether offering invitations to religious life's real community may not itself be a valid ministry-- as valid as any other social-welfare ministry! My own congregation has been reminding my confreres and me that, as a society of apos-tolic life, we live in common for the sake of the mission. What I am suggesting is that, in light of postmodern questions of mean-ing and being, we notice that common life itself is a mission in a culture that hungers for real community. Review for Religious We can come to a clear understanding of this culture and its anguish only if we understand its language. We cannot use the various forms of media well enough to change the image of con-secrated life in the popular mind if we do not speak this language. It is futile to use postmodern media to send modern messages. Resisting the temptations inherent in the media culture (such as virtual living) and simultaneously becoming fluent in mediaspeak are the means to make the postmodern beast begin feeding us. Intergenerational Dialogue This leads us to the complicated issue of intergenerational dia-logue. We feed thevillage beast through our intergenerational struggles. Baby Boomers have indeed assimilated much of the media culture, but have done it selectively. Thirteeners, on the other hand, learned to communicate under the broad umbrella of the media; for them it is not a learned or second language. Consequently, differences in communication become apparent when identity and meaning are discussed in relation to the vocation crisis. If we cannot in some way formulate a cohesive self-image and rationale for existence among ourselves, no amount of media expo-sure can change the pattern of decreasing membership. I believe that for some communities and congregations, if not most, the intergenerational challenge is greater than the reality of overall diminishing numbers. Sammon states, "So great is the suspicion about Xers among a few midlife priests, sisters, and brothers that they would go so far as to risk. the future of their congregations rather than admit a significant number of them to membership. Xers in religious life find their situation equally oppressive.''~s The generations share the suspicion equally. Boomers accuse younger religious of conservatism, materialism, and an absence of passion about social issues. Thirteeners are weary of being measured against a supposed Vatican II norm of authenticity, namely, the Boomers' sense that their own Catholic understanding of the contemporary world is better than their elders' understanding of it; the Thirteeners are also weary of the ineffective ideological psychobabble they perceive in many for-mation programs. It is important, then, to find concrete ways in which both groups can genuinely share each other's wisdom. Recalling Patricia Wittberg's use of social-movement theory to examine religious life, one can say that a group or a community March-April 2001 Robinson ¯ Feeding the Beast succeeds when it speaks to a specific discontinuity present in soci-ety. For Boomers, discontinuities include poverty, oppression, dis-crimination, sexism, and racism. Baby Boomers, having lived their formative years during an age of idealism and social activism, speak well to these discontinuities, tl~ese signs of deeper anguish. Thirteeners, having spent their formative years recovering from effects of some misplaced 1960s idealism, have unavoidably embod-ied the anguish itself in their longing for transcendence and com-munity. The original anguish and its subsequent effects are elements of the same reality. Schneiders says: "The distinguishing characteristic of reli-gious life (in any of its forms) is the exclusive commitment to the God-quest that precludes any other primary life commitment, such as that to spouse and family, profession, or project . For religious the love of Jesus, unmediated by any other primary com-mitment, is the constitutive factor in life.''16 Whether one's energy is centered on social discontinuities themselves or on consequences of efforts to deal with them, the primary commitment to God in Jesus Christ through the Spirit provides common ground. Schneiders goes on to explain that the fundamental call to religious life belongs to the nature of charism on the first level. This call as "lived in and through the love and direct service of the neighbor" belongs to the nature of charism on its second level.17 While it would be scientifically inaccurate or simplistic to divide the Baby Boomer and Thirteener generations into clear categories, I tend to believe that one generation can more properly be described as on one level, the other on the other. Schneiders locates religious life on the margins of culture: The relation of the religious to culture is one of voluntary marginality rather than total absorption. By not undertaking one's species role as reproducer of the race, by not partici-pating in a capitalistic economy by the acquisition or use of wealth for personal purposes, by not exercising political power for individual goals, the religious situates herself at the edges of the systems that make the culture function. From this marginal position, religious share in the "hermeneutical advantage of the poor," the vision of the sociocultural sys-tem from the standpoint of those who are not primary ben-eficiaries of that system but often its victims.~8 In other words, the me.aning of the evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity, and obedience is the site from which to begin genera-tional dialogue. Whether initially motivated by a longing for corn- Review for Religious munity and transcendence or by a love for justice and for the socially disadvantaged, both Baby Boomer and Thirteener reli-gious are characterized by their voluntary marginality in rela-tionship to the culture that produced them. This is common ground, which we call the evangelical counsels. The Unity between Postmodernism and Modernity My point here is that discovering the common ground between generations provides the space in which to discover the other's world. This is of utmost importance, given these genera-tions' responsibilities for taking religious life into the future. There are two ways of approaching this common ground. The prophetic character of Baby Boomers, which gets them involved in the social activism, corresponds well to Schneiders's views of the centrality of the vow of consecrated celibate chastity. The existential angst of the Thirteener generation corresponds well to Michael J. Himes's reflections on the vow of poverty last year in this journal.~9 Granted that trying to offer a clear-cut typology is risky at best, it can serve as a point of departure for some interesting discussion. The particular strengths of the Baby Boomer generation and of the Thirteener generation are all-too-able to keep the ques-tion of being and meaning at bay and thus to keep anxiety about the future our primary concern. These strengths are likewise capa-ble of eliminating any future whatsoever for many religious con-gregations. But let us look more closely. Schneiders says, "The constitutive feature of religious life as a state of life, in other words, that which both organizes it as a form of life in the church and distinguishes it from other forms, is lifelong consecrated celibacy." She adds, "Celibate solitude is the root of immediacy to God as a mode of Christian experience and of social marginality as a position in the world which, oper-ating together, ground religious life as a prophetic lifeform in the church.''2° During the renewal efforts that followed the Second Vatican Council, many religious congregations and communities took being prophetic as that which distinguishes religious life. Engagement with the world had been motivated by the zeal to continue the ministry of Jesus Christ, particularly among the most abandoned. In order to be prophetic, religious entered into study, discernment, and activity that placed them truly on the far margins of contemporary society and away from the large institutions which Mard~-.4pril 2001 Robinson ¯ Feeding tbe Beast had previously defined or identified them. This was in line with the social activism of the generation and found support from many quarters. The movement was into the world, into social justice, into solidarity with the materially poor and into a variety of direct-service ministries. How does this connect with Schneiders's views on consecrated celibacy? First, one's commitment to the God-quest is clear within such a consecration, at least theoretically. Second, making Jesus Christ the center of one's life includes loving the people whom Jesus loved, particularly the most abandoned. Finally, the prophetic witness of consecrated celibacy needs to be concrete and incar-national. This appealed to a generation that had not been as close to the breakdown of marriage as the Thirteeners were. For them the consecration to celibacy involved a far greater prophetic com-mitment than to marriage. There is a twofold dynamic operating here. On the one hand, committing oneself to God stirs up zeal for justice and people's welfare, and, on the other, seeing the image of God in those who are served stirs up zeal for the commitment. Combining Strengths The Baby Boomer generation has been and is an active, "doing" generation. It believes that it can make a difference and is willing to live consecrated celibacy for the sake of those whose lives are improved by their commitment. The vow enables the religious to serve more people expeditiously and well. This, in a sense, touches again upon the issue of modernity. Baby Boomers were socialized within a modern world that was on a continuum towards better and better things. The utility of the vow is consis-tent with this mentality. For its part, the Thirteen generation is characterized by its existential poverty. This is altogether distinct from the issues of either material poverty or affluence. By existential poverty I mean that the Thirteener generation has been given no great social quest, does not believe in unlimited linear progress (because modernity has failed it), and perceives that it has not contributed greatly to the larger social reality. Sammon claims that Thirteeners appear to be "the cleanup crew of this century: whatever conse-quences America must face, they'll bear the brunt of it.''21 The resulting attitude constitutes a certain existential poverty. This generation has no grand story to tell, it has grown up living virtual Review for Religious instead of actual reality, and it has been left to confront the future with something less than hope. Members of this generation have experienced a great deal of death by way of suicide, drugs, and local violence, such as drive-by or school shootings. Although often caricatured as a materialistic, spoiled genera-tion, middle-class Thirteeners were provided with a great number of things by the previous generation, who considered such accu-mulation a sign of success. They watched as success ripped fami-lies apart, leaving them the first victims of what some have called America's divorce epidemic. Sammon states, "They are., the first generation of Americans whom other people took pills not to have. From the very beginning of their lives, this message was passed along to them: Children are avoidable or, in the case of abortion, disposable.''22 These social perceptions include an intuitive sense of the poverty of the human condition. Material well-being is a secondary issue. Michael J. Himes has proposed that "poverty is the key value in the vows . It is to recognize that there are radical limits on me.''23 Thirteeners have internalized the entire postmodern critique of modernity's limitations. Regarding relationships, Thirteeners draw on their experience of watching their parents divorce. Regarding beliefs, Thirteeners have carried the brunt of religious pluralism, picking up the notion that every belief is as good as the next because none can be proven and all have been touched by some kind of scandal. Regarding institutions, ,they are aware that the social-security system may ~ail and leave them without its benefits; they know that a good university education may not provide a lifelong upwardly bound career. In their perception of the world, everything is suspect because everything is radically limited. I would suggest that Thirteeners, through their sense of rad-ical existential poverty, have something important to contribute to vowed or consecrated life. It is no wonder that they turn instinc-tively towards community and spirituality. They do not appear to be seeking definitive answers because they would not believe them anyway. But their ability to live with ambiguity without idealism provides a different edge to prophecy. As Himes says, "Your life is a public witness to the fact that unfulfillment is what is character- The Thirteen generation is characterized by its existential poverty. March-April 2001 ,Robinson ¯ Feeding the Beast istic of being a human being.''24 Fo~: the Thirteener who has made the God-quest her primary life-commitment, the clear message is that only God provides fulfillment, not the promises of modernity or the fleeting, noncommittal character of postmodernism. So what does feeding the village beast have to do with the above generalizations? Those who feel an affinity with Schneiders's sense of consecrated celibacy can say, "I am a person whose pri-mary affective life-commitment revolves entirely around Jesus Christ. Because of this, I continue to do what Jesus did in order to announce the good news to the poor." Those who resonate with Himes's view can say, "I am a person whose primary affective life-commitment revolves entirely around Jesus Christ, who taught us that only God can satisfy the deepest of human longings. I gladly live a life proclaiming this message, particularly to those who are most abused by the lies of materialism and the false belief that it can provide fulfillment." These two essential stances can help keep beastly postmodern anxiety at bay and not allow our lives to be consumed by obsession about our future--or about whose vision of the future is most accurate and correct! The challenge, then, is to find ways of sharing equally valid expressions of our primary life-commitment. One emphasis is no less valid or worthy than the other; both of them result from generational experiences, perceptions, and worldviews. We can begin honestly and peacefully to identify in ourselves and in one another which tendency manifests itself in our lives together, together in our communities and in our ministries within the larger church and world. No One Answer From the perspective of modernity, we are challenged to come together to discuss the constituent factors of our form of life, par-ticularly as they are embodied in ourselves. From the postmodern perspective, we cannot allow one emphasis or one manifestation to be considered the grand story, the metanarrative which will solve all problems. There is no one answer, there is no universal solution, and in a sense there is nothing to be repaired. As Schneiders points out, religious life is a lifeform, an organic reality that has the abil-ity to grow, develop, change, and move through space and time. I have covered a great deal of territory in this reflection. It began by identifying a dynamic that is operative in many congre- Review for Religious gations and communities, namely, a preoccupation with our future. One of the reasons that we are confronted by this village beast is the presence, in different degrees in two generations, of a post-modern sensibility, a sensibility most clearly evident in contem-porary society's operative language, the media. The postmodern question of meaning and being presents itself not only from outside our community boundaries but also within the community itself. The Baby Boomers retain the idealism of their modern upbringing, but have indeed assimilated selectively some aspects of the postmodern sensibility. Thirteeners, on the other hand, were socialized into postmodernism from birth. Consequently, the question of meaning and being takes on different characteristics for the two generations. In order to stop being menaced by challenges that our future presents, I believe that all the generations in religious life, par-ticularly Baby Boomers and Thirteeners, need to discover the common ground of their basic life-commitment. I believe that the language used in this discovery will indicate that the prophetic activism surrounding the idea of consecrated celibacy, as out-lined by Sandra M. Schneiders, can peacefully coexist with the language of existential human poverty, as outlined by Michael J. Himes. The question about our future may lumber around and not go away altogether. This not unfriendly village beast may continue to say, "Feed me." But feeding it must not be what we are all about. Notes J Charles Lamert, Postmodernism Is Not What You Think (Malden, Mass.: Blackwell Publishers, 1997), p. 5. 2 Sandra M. Schneiders IHM, Finding the Treasure: Locating Catholic Religious Life in a New Ecclesial and Cultural Context (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 2000). 3 Lamert, Postmodernism, p. 51 4 Schneiders, Finding, p. 111. 5 Schneiders, Finding, p. 113. 6 See Schneiders, Finding, p. 113. 7 See Sefin D. Sammon FMS, "Last Call for Religious Life," Human Development 20, no. 1 (Spring 1999): 12-27. 8 David J. Nygren CM and Miriam Ukeritis CSJ, The Future of Religious Orders in the United States: Transformation and Commitment (Westport, Conn.: Praeger Publishers, 1993), p. 158. March-April 2001 Robinson ¯ Feeding the Beast 9 Sammon, "Last Call," p. 15. t0 Sammon, "Last Call," p. 17. " Sammon, "Last Call," p. 17. 12 Sammon, "Last Call," p. 16. 13 Patricia Wittberg SC, Pathways to Re-Creating Religious Communities (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1996), pp. 81-85; Sammon, "Last Call," p. 20. 14 Lamert, Postmodernism, pp. 29-30. 15 Sammon, "Last Call," p. 17. 16 Schneiders, Finding, p. 313. J7 Schneiders, Finding, p. 314. 18 Schneiders, Finding, p. 327. 19 Michael J. Himes, "Returning to Our Ancestral Lands," Review for Religious 59, no. 1 (January-February 2000): 21. 20 Schneiders, Finding, p. 129. 2, Sammon, "Last Call," p. 16. 22 Sammon, "Last Call," p. 16. 23Himes, "Returning," p. 21. 24Himes, "Returning," p. 22. In a Time of Trial In my Friday-grief I seat myself by your shrouded body in the dark stone-stopped tomb while I await the sudden trembling of the earth, the harsh scraping at the entrance, the rustle of spice-scented linens, and know that I can now step out with you into the sun-drenched dawn of an Alleluia-day. Franklin Cullen CSC Review for Religious DORIS GOTTEMOELLER I Community and Communion: Making the Connections p~.pe John Paul II speaks of some aspects of the Eucharist in ta consecrata, his postsynodal apostolic exhortation on the consecrated life: By its very nature the Eucharist is at the center of the con-secrated life, both for individuals and for communities. It is the daily viaticum and source of the spiritual life for the indi-vidual and for the institute. By means of the Eucharist all consecrated persons are called to live Christ's paschal mystery, uniting themselves to him by offering their own lives to the Father through the Holy Spirit. (§95) These words of the pope describe an ideal that seems far from the daily experience of most religious I know. It is not that we do not affirm the ideal. But the realities of community and liturgy seldom come together in the life-giving way envisioned in Vita consecrata. The reasons are many and complicated, and the solutions will require imagination and passionate desire. Here I want to explore some factors that inhibit the integration of Eucharistic devotion and community life, to identify some values common to both, and to name some steps we can take to reanimate our communal and Eucharistic life. First let us describe the present reality of Eucharistic practice among religious. I will focus in this section only on common, Doris Gottemoeller RSM presented this paper first at the Eucharistic Congress in Washington, D.C., on 7 October 2000. She is Senior Vice President for Mission and Values Integration at Catholic Healthcare Partners; 615 Elsinore Place; Cincinnati, Ohio 45202. March-April 2001 Gottemoeller * Community and Communion L J Religious community is meant to be a tissue of daily relationships, the context in which we realize all the other dimensions of our vowed life. observable practice. Let us begin by looking at large community houses such as motherhouses and retirement communities. Many of them still have the benefit of a daily Mass, but a significant number can no longer count on the daily presence of a priest. Since these sisters tend to be old and infirm and unable to go out to a parish, they substitute a communion service on the days a priest is not available. Sisters in smaller local communities seldom live in traditional parochial convents; even if they minister in a parish, they may well choose to attend Mass at a different parish. Where two or more sisters live together but work in different ministries, they may well attend different parishes. In short, the practice of a community attending Mass together is becoming increasingly rare. A few sisters minister in settings too far from a resident priest to expect to attend Mass more than once a week, if that often. In some cases, what counts toward the choice of where to worship is convenient location, convenient time, and a congenial celebrant. At times anonymity and speed are the operative criteria for selection. Add to this general picture of behav-ior some frequently expressed thoughts and feelings: "I cannot attend Mass daily and have it be a real celebration. IfI go less frequently, each cel-ebration becomes more meaningful." "My ministry requires me to work long hours, and there is no liturgy that fits into my sched-ule." "The Church's exclusion of women from presiding at liturgy and the use of exclusive language in readings and prayers make Mass attendance too painful for me to endure." I make no attempt to quantify these practices or feelings--only to note that they are part of the experience of at least some religious and therefore, in a sense, part of the experience of us all. What about the experience of community life today? Elsewhere I have suggested that our inability to be clear about what community living means or what it calls us to is our Achilles' heel.' Even raising the topic provokes equivocation, defensiveness, rationalizations. Everyone affirms community as an ideal, but few agree on how to realize it in practice. In the same vein, we are Review for Religious not clear on how it relates to, shapes, or determines our practice of the evangelical counsels and ministry. Going deeper, we have not chaJlenged ourselves to articulate a theology or spirituality of com-munity living adequate for our time. In the complicated process of adapting our way of life to modern and postmodern realities over recent decades, we have been clearer about what we were dis-carding than about what we were setting up as a corporate choice. Hence we find it difficult to say with any clarity or assurance what we are inviting potential and new members to share. Given our uncertainties and ambivalence about Eucharistic devotion and community living, it is no wonder that the ideal of Eucharist-centered consecrated life, for both individuals and com-munities, seems a dream still to be accomplished. The foregoing sketch of the present situation may sound somewhat pessimistic. But there is, I believe, a renewed hunger among religious today for authentic expressions of the deepest meaning of our life, and so these considerations are important. I suggest that there is a powerful analogy between Eucharistic life and religious community life that can shed light on both and show between them a common spirituality. The analogy has four dimensions. The Word Is Made Flesh Religious community and the Eucharist are incarnational. There is a physicality about each that is intrinsic to its nature. Our Eucharistic belief and piety embrace the concept of the Real Presence: that under the appearances of bread and wine the whole Christ is truly, really, and substantially present. If the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity had not assumed human nature, human soul and body, there would have been no Last Supper and no enduring Eucharistic presence today. The accidents of bread and wine are able to be seen and eaten; they are tangible. We know that religious community is also tangible: it is a social experience in which real people, through their physical senses, relate to one another in significant and mutually supportive ways. Sometimes we speak of community as an abstraction, one that is easy to affirm because it makes no demands on us. But reli-gious community is meant to be a tissue of daily relationships, the context in which we realize all the other dimensions of our vowed life: prayer, poverty, celibacy, obedience, mission. Take poverty as an example: not only do we share our income in common, but we March-April 2001 Gottemoeller ¯ Community and Communion also discern together how much is enough, whether for the present living situation or for future needs. Living religious community requires interacting in significant ways with companions whom we can see, address, challenge, praise, forgive, and even embrace. A priest celebrating Mass alone, without the company of an altar server or any other worshiper, is an anomaly. So, I would suggest, is a religious living alone. Something intrinsic to the expe-rience of Eucharistic or religious community is missing. Carrying the incarnational analogy further, we may say that both Eucharist and religious community are preeminent realizations of church. As Vatican Council II's Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy reminds us, "The liturgy is the outstanding means by which the faithful can express in their lives, and manifest to others, the mystery of Christ and the real nafure of the true church. It is of the essence of the church that she be both human and divine, visible and yet invisibly endowed . Day by day the liturgy builds up [the mem-bers] of the church into the Lord's holy temple, into a spiritual dwelling for God--an enterprise which will continue until Christ's full stature is achieved. At the same time the liturgy marvelously fortifies the faithful in their capacity to preach Christ. To out-siders the liturgy thereby reveals the church as a sign raised above the nations" (§2). In short, when the faithful gather to celebrate Eucharist, Church "happens." The Synod on Consecrated Life also saw a unique ecclesial manifestation in this life. Vita consecrata (§§41 and 42) calls com-munity life "an eloquent sign of ecclesial communion," that is, of the church's fundamental identity. Community demonstrates that sharing in trinitarian communion can change human relationships and create a new type of solidarity, built not on family ties or nat-ural attraction, but on common values and commitments. "In this way it speaks to people both of the beauty of fraternal commu-nion and of the ways which actually lead to it. Consecrated persons live 'for' God and 'from' God, and precisely for this reason they are able to bear witness to the reconciling power of grace, which overcomes the divisive tendencies present in the human heart and in society." Community is described as a "God-enlightened space in which to experience the presence of the risen Lord." In literature the figure of speech called synecdoche uses a part to represent the whole and thus even to contain the whole. Perhaps this figure of speech can illustrate a similarity between the Eucharistic assembly and religious community: each in its own Review for Religious way, limited in time and space, is a special manifestation of the church, past, present, and future, throughout the world. Do This in Memory of Me Whenever Mass is celebrated, the story of our redemption is retold and the stuff of our lives is incorporated into that story. In the penitential rite we are reminded that Jesus heals the wounds of sin and division, and then we recall our sins and ask and receive forgiveness. Scripture readings highlight some aspect of salvation history, and the homily applies it to our lives. In the creed we recite the ancient truths and affirm our contemporary belief. In the offertory our gifts are brought to the altar in order to be become Christ's Body and Blood. The words of consecration recall the Last Suppe~:--for the sake of the present action. The telling and retelling of the story of salvation is not a sterile repetition, but an opportunity for us to be drawn into an ongoing story and to make it our own. It is ultimately a transforming story. One day recently the postcommunion prayer included the words "become what we have received." We could never exhaust the meaning of that short phrase. Nourished by Christ's Body and Blood, we are incorporated into him and become Christ in the world. Each religious institute also lives by a story. The circumstances of the founding, the teachings of the founder, the sufferings and hardships of early members, accounts of new missions undertaken, tales of saintly individuals--all of these are elements in a congre-gational history that is still being written. A new member is grad-ually introduced to that s~ory in a process analogous to the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults. Bit by bit she learns the stoW and becomes a part of it. The story is more than facts: it includes beliefs, values, and customs which have to be interiorized if the new member is to be really incorporated. These are best instilled by example. The new member lives in a community that shows her in a natural and unselfconscious way what it is to be a Sister of Mercy or Daughter of Charity or Franciscan. Gradually she takes on the new identity and lives out of it in an authentic way. Both processes--Eucharistic and congregational incorpora-tion- illustrate the meaning of theological tradition. This term refers to the preservation and development by which some truth, whether divine revelation itself or a founding charism, is made available to succeeding generations. Through successive genera- March-April 2001 Gottemoeller ¯ Community and Communion t_ions of recalling and living and praying that truth, new persons are enabled to enter into the community of belief and practice and to contribute their insights. The words used may differ, as languages and cultures change, but the essential identity perdures, under the guidance of the Spirit. Eucharistic community and religious com-munity are communities of memory, nourished by retelling the story. The words of the Evangelist John apply to both, "What we have seen and heard, we proclaim now to you, so that you may have communion with us" (1 Jn 1:3). That All May Be One No group on earth is more diverse than the community of Christian believers. A Coptic Christian in a refugee camp in Ethiopia, a campesino in the highlands of Peru, a Midwest tourist at St. Patrick's Cathedral, all take part in the same liturgy, albeit in different languages and rites. Nor does the diversity end there. Even within the same national or ethnic group, vocational choices, personal gifts, economic circumstances, theological tendencies, and spiritual preferences may differentiate worshipers from one another. Just look around the church some morning and appreci-ate the diversity present there. Retirees, business executives, stu-dents, factory workers, a few street people--all feel comfortable. The church's identity as communio means that all members share a fundamental unity, rooted in baptism. Whatever their differ-ences, the liturgy inspires the faithful to become of one heart in love by being "filled with 'the paschal sacraments'" (Sacrosanctum concilium, Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, §10). The sociologist Robert Bellah asserts that the fundamental practice that tells us who we are as Christians is worship? When we all gather to partake of the same Eucharistic banquet, we are drawn into an embodied world of relationships and connections, a world of human solidarity. Furthermore, he suggests, this soli-darity is an antidote to the radical individualism so characteristic of modern society. Every Eucharistic celebration is an opportunity to model hospitality and inclusive love. When we detect that dif-ferences have become barriers to communio, we must seek recon-ciliation and the restoration of harmony. Religious community has its own diversity. Before renewal we often ignored our differences or tried to eliminate them through adherence to minutiae of rules and customs. Once we began to Review for Religious recognize and appreciate individual differences, however, we did not always differentiate between wholesome and destructive diver-sity. Perhaps more accurately, we did not always differentiate between accidental differences, which can enhance community, and substantive differences, which can erode common meaning. We easily think of examples of diver-sity within a single congregation: national origin (especially if it is an international institute), ethnicity, age, personality types, education, professional expertise, ministry experience, tendencies in theology and spirituality, preferences in art, music, and recreation. On the one hand, this variety of gifts is a wonderful treasure. On the other, it creates a formidable obstacle to the unity of mind and heart which is the ideal of religious life. If this unity is to flourish, it must include a common under-standing of the core commitments of the vowed life and a common passion for the mission, and it must be nourished by the sound traditions of the congregation. For we are not on individual spiritual journeys that intersect only occasionally; we share one journey on which everyone's successes and failures challenge all to be better pilgrims. Successful integration of the varied gifts within a religious community mirrors ecclesial community and contributes to its flourishing. Hospitality and inclusive love are characteristics of both Eucharistic and religious community celebrations. The sociologist Robert Bellah asserts that the fundamental practice that tells us who we are as Christians is worship. Go Forth to Love and Serve the Lord As the liturgy draws to a close, we are sent forth on mission. In the prayers of petition, we remembered the needs of our fam-ilies, friends, community members, church, and world. We offered ourselves with the bread and wine, and now Christ has incorpo-rated us more deeply into himself so that our hands will be his hands, our hearts his heart, on a mission of service to others. Each liturgy ends in a commissioning that echoes the commissioning of Jesus' disciples before his ascension: "Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father Marcb-April 2001 Gottemoeller ¯ Community and Communion and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always until the end of the age." The message is not "Keep safe and stay well until we meet again," but rather "Go forth to love and serve me in the least of my brethren. What you have received, give freely. And, when next you gather at my table, bring the cares and needs of your neighbors with you." Liturgy is not a place to retreat from the world's problems for an hour of spiritual comfort. It is a time to penetrate more deeply into the meaning of the world's problems through the lens of Jesus' life, death, and resurrection. Communion should help us see with his vision. This means seeing beneath the surface of events to the roots of the world's problems. Seeing with Christ's eyes-- we call this contemplation--is necessary for entering into the strug-gle against evil in the depths of human hearts and in the structures of society. Similarly, religious community life is oriented toward mis-sion. "Nor for ourselves alone" should be the watchword. Consecrated life is apostolic in its very essence. This means, not that persons in religious congregations do apostolic works or have individual ministries, but that our whole way of life is for the sake of making the love of God visible and attractive. Community life, therefore, as an intrinsic element of the consecrated life, should be mission oriented in both intention and expression. An apostolic community welcomes neighbors and friends and even, at times, aliens and strangers. An apostolic community weaves the needs of the world into its spiritual consciousness and common prayer. An apostolic community shares its resources with people who are poor. An apostolic community responds to the needs and priori-ties of the larger congregation and also welcomes new members, introducing them to this way of life. In short, an apostolic com-munity is not turned in on itself, isolated and self-sufficient, but receives from others and shares with them. Eucharistic and reli-gious communities--both of them generate apostolic engagement and support. Reanimating Our Eucharistic and Communal Life At the beginning of these reflections, we noted that one of the challenges of living Eucharistic and religious community enthu-siastically is the dailiness of the two experiences. Building on the Review for Religious strength of the analogy between them, let us imagine some ways to make each experience more life-giving. In order to do so, you may want to recall some especially meaningful community cele-bration- perhaps a patronal feast, a jubilee or anniversary, a pro-fession ceremony, even a funeral. Are there elements of that well-remembered celebration which can be incorporated into daily experience? Let me suggest a few. The first dimension of any celebration is anticipation, together with preparation and planning. We look forward to community celebrations, choosing the time and place with care, sending out invitations, preparing the space, devising a menu. If the celebra-tion is to include a liturgy, additional preparations are made--a celebrant is engaged, the choir and musicians rehearse, programs are printed, the altar is adorned. Far from being a burden, these preparations add to the greatness of the occa-sion. We enjoy imagining what the result will be. We look forward to the delight others will experience, perhaps to elements of surprise or special beauty they will enjoy. By our antici-patory efforts we are giving the message that what is to follow is important. In some way the element of anticipation and preparation can be incorporated into the daily rhythm of our Eucharistic and commu-nal life. A simple way to anticipate the Eucharist is to reflect on the scriptural texts before Mass, to pray for grace to hear the word of God and to live it gladly. If we have options, the choice of a time and place to attend Mass is also part of the anticipation. Because community life is not a single event, but an ongoing rela-tionship, the note of anticipation may not seem applicable. I believe, however, that we have to be every bit as intentional about when and how we will gathei', what we will do to enhance the meeting, who we might invite to join us. Mealtime, prayer times, and recreation--three common points of encounter--can all be enriched by thoughtful anticipatory gestures. Gathering flowers for the dinner table can say to your companions, "You are important to me. I am happy to spend this time with you." After the preparation comes the event itself, the celebration of Eucharist, the experience of community living. Harking back to the The element of anticipation and preparation can be incorporated into the daily rhythm of our Eucharistic and communal life. March-April 2001 Gottemoeller ¯ Community and Communion community celebration we specially remember, we note that pres-ence to one another and attention to detail are key ingredients. A sister that I lived with for many years told me this story not long ago. She recalled returning from a trip very late at night and very tired. We used to gather for our community prayer at 7:15 each morning. The following morning she was very tempted to sleep in and skip prayer; she felt she was too tired to contribute anything to the community's effort. But she came, and she had a vivid expe-rience of being borne up and carried by the prayer of the rest of us. Then, when she went to morning Mass with us, she had the same experience at church. The presence of the other parishioners, many of whom we did not know by name but recognized from seeing them frequently, "bore her up." Their faith sustained and animated her. This story is, I suggest, a parable about the nature of Eucharistic and religious community. In times of fatigue, dis-traction, boredom, the community is there for me. When others are similarly challenged, I want to be there for them. Attention to the details of presence enhances Eucharistic cel-ebrations and community experiences. The visibility of sisters, at least occasionally attending Mass together in a parish church, gives a clear reminder that we are still here, that ours is an ecclesial vocation, that our apostolic works are rooted in a life of commu-nal and liturgical prayer. Participation as a lector, Eucharistic min-ister, choir member, or bearer of the offertory gifts can help focus our attention on what we are doing together. Attention to our posture, dress, and demeanor can all help us remember that each celebration, no matter how frequently repeated, is an incalculable opportunity to be united with the whole church living, striving, and praying throughout time and space. Similarly, in local community settings, cultivating habits of courtesy and thoughtfulness can ele-vate the daily humdrum into graced encounters. Finally, a meaningful celebration is prolonged beyond the event itself. The liturgical year supplies us with a cycle of special feasts, but, except for Christmas and Easter, the celebration is usu-ally over and forgotten by eight o'clock in the morning. Are there ways in which we can remind ourselves and one another of the morning's scripture reading, the day's feast, or the spirit of the season (the anticipation of Advent, the joy of Christmastime, the penitential spirit of Lent, the daily challenge of Ordinary Time)? Our community gatherings give us the opportunity to prolong the Eucharistic celebration into the rest of the day. Review for Religious All of these suggestions, simple as they are, are ways in which we can integrate our communal and liturgical prayer. And, of course, there are ways in which all of this can relate to our personal prayer. If one dimension is weak, neglected, or underdeveloped, the others suffer. Each part of our spiritual journey is meant to sup-port the others. In these reflections on the connection between liturgy and community life, I have suggested that there is an anal-ogy which illuminates each. Each in its own way is incarnational and ecclesial, an experience of living memory, a manifestation of varied gifts subsumed into a common unity, and a sending forth on mission. Of course, every analogy is limited, and I do not mean that the two realities are comparable in all respects. Perhaps we can switch for a moment from analogy to metaphor--my English teacher would be so proud! Both liturgy and community life are paths to the same goal of union with God, and so it is not sur-prising that, the closer they approach that goal, the more they converge. The metaphor is limited too, however, for in this life of ours we can take both paths at the same time. I found the intimate relationship, the reciprocity, between Eucharist and community summed up in the following passage by Marcello Azevedo SJ: "The Eucharist is the soul and inspiration of community [living]. The Eucharist makes community viable and challenges us to live up to its truth. And community provides a way for the Eucharist to become authentic. Where community cracks or becomes truncated, where there is community but not a living communion, there we find less of an opportunity for the Eucharist to be consistently credible. There may be a formal cel-ebration, but the very act may empty the meaning and implica-tions of what we are celebrating."3 Azevedo goes on to say that it is necessary to assist young and not-so-young religious to under-stand the immense and unique implications of the Eucharist for community life. He comments that, if we do not make the effort to teach them, daily Eucharist will seem a meaningless legalistic obligation to the young. The not-so-young, for their part, having become accustomed to a disciplined ritual, may not be aware of a problem. But, while attending the Eucharist faithfully, they might fail to grasp its new dimensions and appreciate its many benefits for the life of the community. Before closing let me return to one of the issues identified at the beginning of this reflection, namely, the alienation of some women religious from liturgy because of their feelings of exclusion. March-April 2001 '!49-- !50 Gottemoeller * Community and Communion At times the institutional church--which publicly validates our lives through canonical recognition and affirmations of many kinds--also seems to go out of its way to distance us from the Eucharist through clericalist assertions. As a result some women have sought to nourish their communal spirituality by retrieving women's rituals from Native American, Eastern, and ancient pagan sources. This issue, this phenomenon, has not been the focus of my remarks, but, because of its relationship to the overall question of Eucharistic participation by women religious, it is important to at least touch on it. Mary Collins OSB provides some relevant insights in her essay "Is the Eucharist Still a Source of Meaning for Women?''4 After noting that the Eucharistic Christ has brought prayerful women-- including our congregational founders--to a depth of spiritual identity, vision, and power generation after generation, she says: "This meaning and power do not lie exclusively in the past; they have a present and future for those who trust themselves to Eucharistic action in troubled times. To insist upon construing Eucharist solely as a symbol of male power is to squander a known source of spiritual vitality in the Catholic community." She addresses the issue of substituting other rituals for Christian liturgy: Where such impoverished constructions of the Catholic Church's Eucharistic tradition have been accepted as the whole truth or the only significant truth, some Catholics have begun to identify themselves as post-Christian and to look elsewhere for the way, the truth, and the life. Will a neopagan quasi-retrieval of rites of empowerment for women guarantee a better future for the human community than the service of the gospel and the Eucharistic celebration of the mystery of salvation? Nobody has ever been able to pre-vent people from squandering real assets when the lure of fool's goal overtakes them, nor from risking a solid future on the futures market. Neoclericalism and neopaganism both look like fool's gold to me.s Collins challenges us to hold fast to the treasure which has been entrusted to us and to the whole Christian community. As reli-gious living a communitarian life, we have a special affinity for the communal dimension of Eucharist. I hope that our reflection on these matters will stir our imaginations and irrigate, from the wellspring of our communal religious lives, our desire to celebrate Review for Religious the Eucharist. I hope that the Eucharist will be for all of us what it has been and is: our "daily viaticum and source of the spiritual life." Notes ~ "Community Living: Beginning the Conversation," Review for Religious 58, no. 2 (March-April 1999): 137-149. 2 "Religion and the Shape of National Culture," America (31 July 1999): 9-14. 3 The Consecrated Life: Crossroads and Directions, (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1995), p. 87. 4 Living in the Meantime: Concerning the Transformation of Religious Life, ed. Paul J. Philibert OP (New York: Paulist Press, 1994), pp. 185- 196. ~ Philibert, Living, p. 195. Easter Jesus rose like a gleaming daffodil, starting a trend of risings from cold mud - purple crocus and wild violet, pale narcissus looking too fragile for spring blasts, and the hooded heads of tulips waiting to unscarf themselves in coral and flame. You feel again your own mud and wonder each drab day what seeds unknown to you might be risii~g from the humus of your Lenten days and almost ready for your alleluias. PatSchnapp RSM March-April 2001 GERALD M. FAGIN Contemplation to Attain Love A Paradigm for Apostolic Prayer Every Christian faces the challenge of integrating prayer and ministry, for every Christian is called to a contemplative relationship with God and a life of service. Baptism missions a person to labor with Christ in building the reign of God in our world, but the desire and energy for that mission must come from an experience of God, a relationship with God that is fos-tered by a life of prayer. Prayer encourages and informs a life of ministry, and ministry enriches and gives renewed motivation for prayer. Our traditions provide a rich variety of definitions and methods of apostolic prayer. In this article I will suggest that the final exercise of Ignatius Loyola's Spiritual Exercises, the Contemplation to Attain Love, offers a helpful paradigm and even a partial description of the prayer of an active minister. It names the qualities of an apostolic prayer and outlines the stages of growth in such a prayer. There is no evidence that Ignatius pre-sented this exercise as a methodology of prayer, but in obvious ways the four points of the contemplation indi-cate the kind of prayer that best suits an active Christian. Many commentators point out that the Contemplation to Attain Love describes the summit and Gerald M. Fagin SJ teaches theology at Loyola University; 6363 St. Charles Avenue; New Orleans, Louisiana 70118. Review for Religious summation of the Spiritual Exercises and captures the heart of Ignatian spirituality. Michael Bucldey, in an insightful article on the contemplation, parallels the four points of this exercise with the Exercises' four Weeks.' As the four points recall what we have received, how God dwells in the gifts, how God labors in the gifts, and how the gifts lead us back to the Giver, so the four Weeks center on God's gifts of creation and redemption, on God's indwelling in the world in Jesus, on Christ laboring in the pas-sion, and finally on surrender to and union with Christ risen in glory. The grace prayed for in the contemplation also sums up the graces prayed for in the Exercises: "To ask for interior knowl-edge of all the great good I have received, in order that, stirred to profound gratitude, I may become able to love and serve the Divine Majesty in all things" (§233).2 The goal of the Exercises is to bring one to freedom to hear God's call and respond in love and service. That also articulates well the grace prayed for in any apostolic prayer. Apostolic prayer must begin with attentive listening that presumes an open heart. It results in a commitment to service that flows from a loving desire to share gospel truths and values. The contemplation at the end of the Exercises also enables and facilitates the transition from thirty days of prayer in solitude to the active life of the minister of the gospel. Prayer that was nurtured in the solitude of the desert now must find a way of expression in everyday life filled with demands and distractions. Contemplation must become a certain contemplation in action, and the God found in the quiet world of retreat must be found in all things, in all the people and events, the joys and challenges, of everyday life. This is not an easy task. The felt intimacy and strong resolutions often experienced in retreat prayer can quickly dissi-pate when confronted with the challenges of family life, commu-nity life, and ministry. Prayer must take a shape and an expression appropriate for an active and engaging life. Prayer must attune the heart to the many revelations of God in life. The four points of the Contemplation to Attain Love invite us to four forms of prayer that define the minister's relationship to God. As with the four points of the contemplation, there is a certain sequence to these prayer forms, but the rhythm of prayer implies a constant interplay between the forms. All four expressions of prayer must continually inform and enrich one another and enliven the minister. Marcb-April 2001 Fagin ¯ Contemplation to Attain Love First Point. Recall the Gifts I Have Received I will call back into my memory the gifts I have received-- my creation, redemption, and other gifts particular to myself. I will ponder with deep affection how much God our Lord has done for me, and how much he has given me of what he possesses, and consequently how he, the same Lord, desires to give me even his very self, in accordance with his divine design. (§234) Without a sense of thanksgiving, there is no true motivation for Christian service. The foundational grace of the Christian life is the grace to know God's personal love for oneself. God's love finds expression in the gifts of creation and redemption as well as in the endless other graces poured out upon us. All of life is seen in faith as a gift from the hands of a loving God who, as Ignatius indicates, finally desires to share God's own life with us. Ignatius experienced this powerfully in his own vision at the River Cardoner, where he saw all of creation coming down from God as a gift and returning to God. This dynamic view of creation defined for Ignatius the rhythm and meaning of life and the flow of all of life and salvation history. Our response in prayer to God's plan of salvation begins, then, with a sense of gifted-ness in our creation and redemption. We stand before God as a creature totally depen-dent on God and as loved sinners aware of God's forgiving and healing love. Christian prayer begins as a response to God's initiative toward us, a response first of profound gratitude for all that God has given us. It is no wonder that Ignatius recognized gratitude as central to Christian life and a sure measure of Christian faith. In the grace prayed for in the contemplation, Ignatius presumes that an interior knowledge of all God's gifts would "stir one to profound gratitude" (§2 3 3). The prayer of an apostle must be rooted in gratitude. Without a sense of thanksgiving, there is no true motivation for Christian service. Gratitude leads to magnanimity, to greatness of heart, and impels one to service. To sustain and enliven ministry, Christians must return to a sense of being gifted and rekindle desire to share all the gifts received and to proclaim to others the presence of God's gifts in their lives. One central goal .of ministry is to enable others to notice and claim their own gifts from God and then to Review for Religious foster those gifts in others. The first point of the contemplation reminds us that all prayer and all ministry flow from a grateful heart. The prayer of every minister must first be a prayer of gratitude. Second Point. God Dwells in All Creation I will consider how God dwells in creatures; in the elements, giving them existence; in the plants, giving them life; in the animals, giving them sensation; in human beings, giving them intelligence; and finally, how in this way he dwells also in myself, giving me existence, life, sensation, and intelli-gence; and even further, making me his temple, since I am created as a likeness and image of the Divine Majesty. (§235) The prayer of a minister must also be a prayer of contemplative presence. Ignatius reminds us in the second point that God dwells in all of creation, is present in every dimension of reality. To be a contemplative is to notice and be in touch with the presence of God. Ignatius spoke of acatamiento or reverence, an awareness of God's presence, a sense of awe that resulted in love, a sense of the utter gratuity of creation.4 Contemplative presence implies paying attention to God and becoming absorbed in God dwelling in and revealing himself in the world about us. God reveals himself in nature, in the events of life, in other people, and in ourselves. First, contemplative presence enables us to listen to God in nature. The beauty and grandeur of creation, the majesty of life expressed in plants and animals, the power of nature manifested in wind and storm--all of these reveal the splendor and majesty of God and call forth awe and wonder that draws the human heart to the presence of God alive in the world. The beauty and wonder of creation invite our hearts to move beyond what we experience and become centered on God. This calls to mind the simple act of contemplation that Julian of Norwich describes: seeing a tiny hazelnut, she recognizes that God made it, loves it, and preserves it.s Her heart is lifted to God her creator, her lover, and her pro-tector. All of creation is a manifestation of God that guides us into a deeper awareness of God's loving presence all around us. Second, contemplative presence also attunes us to God present in the events of our lives, events of joy and grace as well as painful and challenging events. God dwells with us, supports and strength-ens us, and faithfully walks with us in significant, life-changing March-April 2001 Fagin ¯ Contemplation to Attain Love events and in ordinary, routine events. We can recall significant moments of insight or forgiveness or renewed hope or grief at the loss of a loved one--moments of grace as dramatic as the birth of a child or as simple as a consoling word spoken in love. A con-templative presence enables us to find God dwelling in all life's events. Third, God dwells in a special way in the people we encounter in our lives. A contemplative presence gives rise to reverence and awe before others. We recognize and acknowledge God dwelling in them. We give thanks for the giftedness of others and see the face of God in them. We recall experiences of friendship that have been powerful sacraments of God's love in our lives. As the poet Hopkins proclaims it, "Christ plays in ten thousand places, lovely in limbs and lovely in eyes not his, to the Father through the features of men's faces." God is revealed as well in community, in the people God calls together. "For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them" (Mr 18:20).6 How often we find God in our sisters and brothers called together in word, sacrament, and service! God dwells powerfully in the com-munity of humankind and in the more particular communities of family and church that surround us with love and support. Finally, God dwells within our own hearts--creating us, loving us, and sustaining us. We find God in our needs and feel-ings and desires, in the movements of our hearts. God forever desires to make his home with us. Jesus' words to Zacchaeus are spoken to us each day, "I must stay at your house today" (Lk 19:5). We can recall the searching words of Paul, "It is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me" (Ga 2:19) or the words of Jesus in John's Gospel, "Abide in me as I abide in you" (Jn 15:4). These words of Scripture call to mind the mysterious truth of the life of grace: God dwells within us. Contemplative prayer puts us in touch with that intimate presence and fosters our shared presence with God. The second point of the contemplation, then, elicits the grace of finding God in all things. For the Christian in active ministry, the grace of finding God in the flow of life means more than bringing the fruit of our prayerful contemplation to our ministry. It implies being contemplative in the midst of our action, finding God present in the events and people in our lives. So often we long for and wait for epiphanies of God in our lives, those dramatic and unmistakable revelations of God that capture our attention Review for Religious in sudden and unpredictable ways. A contemplative presence empowers us to notice the constant diaphanies of God, the ways God shines through all of creation and all the events of our lives. Contemplative presence is a prayer of the apostle because it allows us to find God in life and to be present ourselves to God present to us. Third Point. God Labors in All Creation I will consider how God labors and works for me in all the creatures on the face of the earth; that is, he acts in the man-ner of one who is laboring. (§236) In the third point Ignatius highlights how God is at work in all things, how God labors to bring all things to salvation. The Christian is called to labor with God to bring all of creation to salvation. Apostolic prayer, then, is always a prayer of discernment about choices and decisions.7 If Christ labors in the world, redeeming it and bringing it back to the Father, the ques-tions before the minister are always: How do I become part of this labor of Christ? What is my role in salvation history? Ignatius experienced this in his mystical vision at La Storta where the Father placed him at the side of Jesus carrying his cross. Ignatius was to labor alongside Christ to bring the world back to God. The challenge was to discover what laboring with Christ meant in the con-crete circumstances of his life. The chal-lenge for every minister is to come to decisions that are true to the mind of Christ and apt for building the reign of God. What can I do for and with Christ in my life situation? A decision flows out of a conversation between my gifts, the needs of the Christian community, and the particu-lar call of Christ in my life. Discernment is the art of finding God's will in the concrete details of my life. Discernment is a gift of the Spirit that attunes our heart to the heart of Christ so that our min-istry is shaped by the hopes and desires of the Lord and not our own agenda. The challenge for every minister is to come to decisions that are true to the mind of Christ and apt for building the reign of God. March-April 2001 Fagin ¯ Contemplation to Attain Love In the second Week of the Exercises, Ignatius invites retreatants to an imaginative prayer that leads them into the events of Christ's life. The invitation to be present to a person or event in the Scripture calls them to be present with Christ in a given mystery of his life. The grace prayed for is a deep-felt knowledge of Christ and love for Christ. Ignatian imaginative prayer or con-templation also teaches one to discern God's will in the specifics of life. Where am I to be inserted into God's plan of salvation as it unfolds today? How I am to labor with Christ to make this plan a reality? This twofold purpose of imaginative contemplation in the second Week of the Exercises--intimacy with Jesus and discern-ment-- corresponds to the grace of the second Week: to know and love Christ by being present to him in the events of his life and to follow him by learning my role in salvation history day by day. Returning to the Contemplation to Attain Love, the second point focuses on God dwelling in the world. For a Christian, focus-ing on God means being present to Christ and noticing him in the world. The third point of the contemplation centers on God laboring in the world, especially in Jesus' life, passion, and death. As the second point suggests a prayer of contemplative presence, so the third point encourages a prayer of discernment, of finding God's will in my life. Ministers of the gospel must grow into dis-cerning hearts that define and direct their service. The gift of dis-cernment enables them to sift through interior movements to discover what is from God and leads to God and what leads them away from God. Without such discernment, choices in ministry are not founded on God's call to labor with Christ for God's reign. Fourth Point. From Gift to Giver I will consider how all good things and gifts descend from above; for example, my limited power from the Supreme and Infinite Power above and so of justice, goodness, piety, mercy, and so forth--just as the rays come down from the sun, or the rains from their source. (§237) The fourth point shifts our focus to God, the source of all good. God is loved not simply for what he has done for us, but for who God is. If apostolic prayer begins in gratitude, grows into contemplative presence, and finds expression in prayerful dis-cernment, union with God and others remains the goal. "Our hearts are made for God and they are restless until they rest in Review for Religious him.''~ Prayer is the language of relationship, a posture of listen-ing and responding to God that gives expression to our faith, hope, and love and grows into a shared presence with our God who desires to draw close and be one with us. Prayer is creating a space where God can be welcomed and intimacy nourished. Prayer is the experience of our hearts being one with the heart of God. Jesus, in John's discourse after the last supper, voices his desire to be one with us as he and the Father are one. He uses the image of the vine and the branches to speak of the dynamic connection between his life and ours. He invites us to "abide in his love" and share in the love the Father has for him. Jesus promises his disci-ples that "whoever loves me will keep my word and my Father will love him and we will come to him and make our dwelling with him" On 14:23). They are to be disciples on a mission, but dis-ciples rooted in mystical union with God. Prayer ultimately leads to this familiarity with God, this union, this sharing in the very life of God. This should be true for apos-tolic ministers. As the gifts lead us back to the Giver in the fourth point of the contemplation, so a contemplative prayer of discern-ment leads our hearts to a deeper union with God. The graces of the third and fourth Weeks of the Spiritual Exercises, to be united with Jesus in his suffering and in his joy, lead a person into a prayer of union and in the end to the total surrender to God expressed in the prayer of the contemplation: "Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and also my will--all that I have and possess. You, Lord, have given all that to me. I now give it back to you, O Lord. All of it is yours. Dispose of it accord-ing to your will. Give me love of yourself along with your grace, for that is enough for me" (§234). This is the prayer of total detachment from everything that is not God, a prayer of union that finds ultimate fulfillment in God alone. In his second preliminary observation for the contemplation, Ignatius says: "Love consists in a mutual communication between the two persons. That is, the one who loves, gives and communi-cates to the beloved what he or she has, or part of what one has or can have; and the beloved in return does the same to the lover" (§231). Love finds fullest expression in union and mutual shar-ing. Intercommunion and personal communication, mutual giving and sharing, lead to a profound union. Apostolic prayer finds ful-fillment in a profound union of heart and desire between God and the apostle. March-April 2001 Active ministers must find God in the midst of their ministry and not simply in solitude and quiet prayer. t60 ' Fag~n ¯ Contemplation to Attain Love Apostolic Prayer This essay suggests that the final exercise of the Spiritual Exercises provides the retreatant not only with a summation of the four Weeks and a synthesizing grace of the Exercises, but also with a guideline for apostolic prayer. Implicit in Ignatius's four points in the contemplation, which moves the retreatant from the world of retreat to a world of active ministry, is a description of the forms and qualities of prayer necessary to sustain the retreatant in a life of ministry. Active ministers must always center their hearts on the gifts of God so as to be continuously grateful for them. Without such gratitude the minister's heart will narrow and grow cold and lose the expansiveness and generosity essential to ministry. Ministry flows from a grateful heart. At the same time, active ministers must find God in the midst of their ministry and not sim-ply in solitude and quiet prayer. Though such solitude and quiet time is absolutely necessary, ministers must foster a contemplative presence that is attentive to God in all the dimensions of life. Such contemplative presence joins prayer and ministry, action and contemplation, and makes it possible for the minister to find life and consolation in ministry. Genuine ministry will always be the fruit of discernment and prayerful decision making. Ministers must grow in the gift and art of dis-cernment so that their ministry carries on the ministry of Jesus in service of the reign of God. To labor with Christ presumes a heart in union with Christ and a heart free to hear God's personal call to service. Apostolic prayer nurtures a discerning heart sensitive to the ongoing call of God in our lives. Finally, all prayer moves us back to the Giver of all gifts. Apostolic prayer reaches its goal in total surrender and union with God. Ignatius, in his Spiritual Diary, records the depth and full-ness of his own prayer of union with God. Ignatius's Trinitarian mysticism was the fruit of a life of prayer and service and his final surrender to the Giver of all gifts who dwells and labors in cre-atiom This is not only a prayer for the select few. It is the desire of God's heart for all believers. Review for Religious The four points of this Ignatian contemplation invite us to a prayer rooted in gratitude, embodied in a contemplative attitude, focused on discernment of God's will, and brought to culmina-tion in a deep union with God and creation. Such a description seems at least a partial summary of Ignatius's own prayer and not far from naming the gift of prayer Ignatius would ask for those who make his Spiritual Exercises. Notes ~ Michael J. Buckley SJ, "The Contemplation to Attain Love," Way Supplement 24 (Spring 1975): 92-104. Buckley's interpretation of the contemplation lays a foundation for my reflections on the prayer forms suggested by the Ignatian Contemplation to Attain Love. ~ Spiritual Exercises citations are from The Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius, trans. George Ganss SJ (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1992). 3 See Gerald M. Fagin SJ, "Stirred to Profound Gratitude," Review for Religious 54, no. 2 (March-April 1995): 237-252. 4 See Charles O'Neill SJ, "Acatamiento: Ignatian Reverence," Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits 8, no. 1 (January 1976). s Julian of Norwich, Showings (Long text), chap. 5. 6 All scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard. Version. See Buckley, p. 102, St. Augustine, Confessions, Book 1, chap. 1. March-April 2001 ERNEST E. LARKIN What to Know about Discernment One of my teachers in Rome was the famed Dominican Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange. He often shared bits of worldly wisdom like the following: A young teacher teaches even what she does not know, a middle-aged teacher teaches only what she knows, and an old teacher teaches only What is necessary. Twenty years ago, as a middle-aged teacher, I wrote a little book on discernment, called Silent Presence. Recently, as an old teacher, I was asked to write a summary statement on the topic. Here it is. It will appear as an epilogue when Dimension Books republishes the book, which is undergoing wholesale revision for its renewed life. What, then, is necessary for discernment? Discernment as Process and Problem Discernment has two focuses: process and problem. It is pro-cess insofar as it is a progressive awareness of the movements of the spirits in our consciousness. The "spirits" are thoughts, desires, and affective moods, which are the telltale signs of the Holy Spirit or opposing influences. In the discernment process we become more sensitive to the movements of grace or the temptation to sin in our lives. Discernment is mindfulness, recollection, centeredness. It is being aware of what is going on spiritually. Ernest E. Larkin OCarm wrote about St. TMr~se for our September- October issue last year. His address is Kino Institute; 1224 East Northern; Phoenix, Arizona 85020. Review for Religious Discernment as problem solving is interpreting thespirits in order to determine God's will. Where are these feelings and sen-timents tending? Are they moving the person toward or away from God? What behavior and choices are they suggesting? Discernment is not concerned with the emotional or physiological sources of these feelings, but only with their trajectory or orientation. Where are they pointing? God leads us by means of these secondary causes. The two functions of discernment coalesce in our daily, moment-to-moment responses to God calling us forth in the concrete situations of daily life. This process is the "obedience of faith" (Rm 1:5), which is saying no to selfishness and yes to tran-scendence. We are called to live beyond rote rules and in accord with God's particular will for us. The ordinary teaching and ministry of the church provide the boundaries or the playing field. But God leads each of us one by one in the community of the church. God's project for me is that I become the unique person I was created to be. Discernment is the tool for the process. The How of Discernment There are three ways of evaluating our experiences. One is cognitive: we use our heads to analyze the experiences, we objectify the experiences, and we hold them before our eyes to understand and interpret them. The other two ways involve our heart: I call one mystical, the other affective; in these two ways we feel our way to the conclusion. Cognitive discernment stays on the level of thinking. It thinks about holy thoughts and desires and their unholy counterparts as well. It asks which are which, with a view to following the good and avoiding the evil. It makes a judgment based on theoretical knowl-edge about what is virtuous and what is not. This endeavor prescinds from the affective states; in cognitive discernment the feelings are beside the point. The norm is right reason and good sense. Mystical discernment is the experience of ourselves being lifted up to God in loving surrender. At the time there is no contrary movement of affectivity; experiencing a mystical grace, we have no doubt that we are in God and God is in us. Affective discernment involves an awareness of the comings and goings of a divided affectivity. We note the ambivalence in our lives between yeses and noes to God. We observe both positive and negative March-April 2001 Larkin ¯ What to Know about Discernment affections over the same one issue, the positive ones being love, peace, commitment (all of which are signs of God's presence) and the negative ones being anxiety, alienation, rebelliousness (potential obstacles between us and God). In the to-and-fro of this experience, we sense the calling of God. A simple image may clarify this matter. Each of us is like a cone standing on its point and divided by a horizontal plane halfway up. The upper half is our conscious self, our soul or psy-che; the lower half is our spirit. God dwells in the depths of our spirit at the point of the cone. He may activate his role as the point of the cone by letting our whole being sink more deeply into himself so that our deeply spiritual sense of contact with him is now much more than a point; it is a complete circle, a divine interface, a total saturation--this is the mystical grace referred to above. Or his action, instead of being mystical, may consist of helpful waves sent from the point through our being, waves that reverberate in our consciousness along with contrary movements from our old self. Affective discernment takes note of these contrary and selfish iinpulses as well as the resonances of God's presence. A sense of that presence and absence emerges. Discernment takes place in the upper, conscious level of our being. In the mystical grace, the spirit dominates the psyche; the whole person feels raised up by God, by the sovereign action of Love. The consciousness of this divine gift is the mystical dis-cernment. The person experiences wholeness, peace, humility, a joyous faith, hope, and charity, along with immense gratitude and all the fruits of the Spirit (Ga 5:22). There are no contrary affections as long as the experience lasts. The recipient knows and loves God and all that God stands for; at this point there is complete submission to the divine will, which is intimated in the exchange. The action of grace in our being is not usually so total. Grace builds on nature and meets people where they are in their spiritual journey. Most people do not have perfect purity of heart; they are divided in their allegiance to God. So the Holy Spirit enters their consciousness via holy thoughts and desires; these are actual graces. They vie for attention and acceptance against the contrary entice-ments of the world, the devil, and one's own unredeemed self. God's action does not wholly envelop the person. Part of the person is lifted up in noble sentiments, but another part is reneg-ing and lagging behind; part is saying yes and part no. Affective dis- Review for Religious cernment senses these two directions in the affections themselves and interprets them intuitively as by a sixth sense. We thus have three ways of doing discernment, one of them following objective norms and two of them reading the affections. In actual practice, discernment usually is a mixture of the cogni-tive and the affective, with occasional experiences of the mysti-cal. We now address each of these three at greater length. Cognitive Discernment Cognitive discernment applies appropriate knowledge of the spiritual life to the issues at hand. Teresa of Avila puts a high pre-mium on learning in spiritual directors, whose function is to assist in the process of discernment by confirming or questioning the conclusions of the client. Her teaching on the importance of knowledge in the spiritual life is germane here. She wants both experience and learning in the spiritual guide. But, if forced to choose between the two qualities, she favors experience (see her Autobiography, her Vida, chap. 13), but she always prizes the confir-mation of a learned person. What knowledge is involved in discernment? Knowledge of God's ways as revealed in the Scriptures, wisdom gleaned from the sages of Israel, from Jesus, and from the New Testament, knowl-edge of the spiritual life as it has developed in history. The knowl-edge is about human beings as much as it is about God. Today some knowledge of depth psy-chology is presumed. The ancients and the medieval writers did not have the benefit of Freud, Jung, or Adler, but they knew human nature in its mysterious vagaries. Applied psychology in programs like the enneagram, Myers-Briggs, transactional analysis, and the stages of growth in Erikson and his successors is helpful. All sources of knowledge about ourselves and our world are potential helps: anthropology, biography, literature, even journals of current events that record "signs of the times," indications of what God is doing in the world today. Discernment usually is a mixture of.the cognitive and the affective, with occasional experiences of the mystical. March -April 2 O01 Larkin ¯ What to Know about Discernment Cognitive discernment is the way for beginners, who by def-inition struggle with disordered affections and moral limitations and cannot trust their feelings to be indicators of the divine presence. Beginners need to recognize their feelings, own them, and act beyond them by hewing to the line set by objective crite-ria.° This is the teaching of the rules for discernment for the First Week of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola. The rules suggest what feelings to expect at the beginning and along the way and how to handle them. The beginners' immediate goal is purity of heart, freedom of spirit, detachment, indifference, all of which terms are basically synonymous. This condition is the prerequisite for exercising affective and mystical discernment. Cognitive discernment is not limited to beginners. Mature Christians use it when they are not experiencing turbulence or strong desires. At such times they work up the pertinent informa-tion in two columns (pros and cons) and make a rational decision, confirming the decision if possible by a subsequent affective dis-cernment. St. Ignatius calls this mode of decision-making the "third time," his "first time" being mystical discernment and his "second time" affective discernment. Prayer and consultation are part of all discernment, as is confirmation by the community, usu-ally through a representative like a spiritual director. The execution of cognitive discernment may be assisted by one or more of the following suggestions: (1) Examine an area of your life such as pra~er, relationships, or ministry by reading some basic reflection on the topic and consulting your conscience on your own performance. (2) Look for models or ways to proceed in people who faced similar questions or situations (such as making a vocational choice or dealing with a significant loss). (3) Listen attentively tO what others say about you in praise or criticism for insights into self-knowledge. (4) Collect words of wisdom that may help you understand a specific question,, such as the follow-ing words of Anthony De Mello about relationships: "You are pre-cious to me, but you are not my life. My life is distinct and separate from you. I thank you for coming into my life. Good-bye." Mystical Discernment "The love of God poured forth in our hearts by the Holy Spirit" (Rm 5:5) orients one's life to God. It roots a person in God and constitutes the state of grace. One may experience this grace Review for Religious as a special mystical gift. This experience is an awareness of one's whole person surrendered to God in faith, hope, and love. This experience is the perception of one's true self in a pure state, with-out any mixture of contrary desire. It is called mystical discernment because it depends on God's free action and the content of one's mind and heart, and their contentedness, are entirely of God. Mystical discernment is the first principle of affective discernment, for it represents the fullness against which subse-quent movements toward God are measured. These lesser affective movements are not the experience of total surrender; they are graces promoting love for God and are experienced positively because they are consonant with the original experience of the pure love of God. St. Ignatius calls them consolations. They are virtuous affections, expe-rienced as harmonious with the fun-damental option; they come across as feelings of well-being, authen-ticity, peace, and love. Their opposites are called des-olations by Ignatius; they obstruct one's surrender to God. They are negative feelings or reactions, and they come across as disruptive, alienating, and destructive. While the good movements are con-gruent with one's ultimate orientation to God, these bad spirits or sentiments oppose submission to God. Affective discernment.moves back and forth between these two sets, whereas in mystical discernment there is only consola-tion- in Ignatius's classic words, "consolation without previous cause" (Spiritual Exercises, §330). This grace is the spontaneous, unmerited inbreaking of God that absorbs the whole person in the love of God. No previous acts of the person explain its presence. It is the gustos of Teresa of Avila, which she calls the prayer of quiet; it is the experience of mystical union in both Teresa and John of the Cross. In this experience one discerns one's true self, not through knowledge about one's self, but through personal, intuitive con-tact. One "knows" God and knows one's self in the union with God, in the way St. Paul wants to "know Christ and the power of Mystical and affective discernment do not establish what is right and wrong; these matters are to be decided by moral reasoning. Malvh-April 2001 Larkin ¯ What to Know about Discernment his resurrection and the fellowship of his suffering" (Ph 3:10). Paul seeks an affective experience, not abstract knowledge. This affective knowledge is not new truths or objective moral theology about right and wrong. Mystical and affective discernment do not establish what is right and wrong; these matters are to be decided by moral reasoning. The discernment has to do with one's sub-jective stance before God; it is about recognizing and responding in freedom to grace, and thus it is about being good, not about being right--just as people sometimes do the right thing for the wrong reason. In mystical discernment there is no intrusion of the false self. The false self is the part of one's being that is not rooted in God. It does not come out of the spirit, but is the construction of one's own ego, a figment of one's imagination and feelings. One must be careful, therefore, not to confuse mere euphoria or "sensible con-solations" in prayer with this special grace. Visions and locutions, even when miraculous, are likewise experiences of the psychic self, on the level of imagination; they are not the same grace as "con-solation without previous cause." The distinctive mark of this truly mystical grace is wholeness: body, soul, and spirit are touched by God. The true self includes all of these. What happens in that mystical union with God, therefore, is totally of God. The false self may awaken after the event and masquerade as part of the gift in the afterglow of the mystical experience. Ignatius warns about this danger (Spiritual Exercises, §336). These subsequent thoughts and affections, like visions and locutions themselves, are to be treated like all other particular ideas and feelings: they must be submitted to cognitive or affective discernment. Typical questions that may help to identify the mystical expe-rience are the following: (1) Is the experience a fantasy, euphoria gone wild, a projection, or wishful thinking, or does it represent my actual self, my reality, my truth? (2) Is the exaltation of this experience corroborated by high standards of moral attitudes and behavior? (3) Is there congruence between the experience and my deepest desires? Affective Discernment The true self and the false self at work in ordinary conscious-ness are good handles for grasping this normal and recommended way of doing discernment. Both of these parts of one's being Review for Religious express themselves in thoughts, desires, feelings, moods, and sentiments. The true self is in touch with the spirit as well as with the soul or psyche. When it operates, there is an element of whole-ness and peace along with other virtuous attitudes and movements. The false self has no roots in the spirit, is superficial and disinte-grated, and acts only at the level of imagination and emotion, with no regard for basic spiritual truth and goodness. Its hallmarks are fragmentation, alienation, irritation, and the seven capital sins. Ordinary Christians live in the state of grace; they are com-mitted to the true self. But whole areas of their lives ha