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Issue 50.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1991. ; Review fOl~ Religious Volume 50 Number 4 July/August 1991 P()STMAS'I'I'.'ll: Send mhh'c.~.~ chang~'s Io Rl.:Vll.:W 1.~ nt ll,.:i.i~ ;i, ~i,s; P.(). Box 6071); l)llhli h, M N 55806. .~lll~scriplioll raics: .~illglc c.py $3.51) plus lll~lililig 1991 RI.:VIEW I)avid L. Fleming, ~.l. Philip C. Fischen S.I. Michad G. I-hzrter, ~.l. Elizabeth Mcl)omm~h, 0.1: Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Edilor Asxocial~" Cammical Co.nsc/Edilor Assistant Editors David J. Hassel, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Wendy Wright, Ph.D. Advisory Board Mary Margaret Johanning, S.S.N.D. Sean Sammon, F.M.S. Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B. July/August 1991 Volume 50 Number 4 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor should be sent to R~vl~w rot R~lous; 3601 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Elizabeth McDonougb, O.P.; 5001 Eastern Avenue; P.O. 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This order is for [] a new subscription [] a renewal [] a restart of a lapsed subscription MAIL TO: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ¯ 3601 LINDELL BOULEVARD ° ST.LOu1S, MO 63108 1-91" PRISMS. The word ordinary seems to imply the bland, the unexciting, the run-of-the- mill, the everyday. In fact, for many of us even the liturgical year of the Church suffers from being divided into two parts: the Seasons and Ordinary Time. Although liturgy properly speaks of our celebrations, we tend to find it hard to celebrate what is called ordinary. Perhaps the very distinction which the Church highlights in so dividing the liturgical year calls us to a deeper reflection upon our understanding of the ordinary. God creates the ordinary., and calls it good. It is true: the ordinary is the very substance of our world. While being itself God's cre-ation, the ordinary is also the substance with which God works. We, by being ordinary, can be touched and molded and transfigured by God. Often we try to escape from being ordinary, and in the process we shut ourselves off from being available to God's action in our lives. In the bibli-cal accounts of creation, we find the lure of an escape from the ordinary the root crisis of properly using our God-given freedom. The story of Lucifer and the fallen angels is a story of beings discontent with being ordinary. As they try to move beyond the ordinary by shutting out God, this becomes their hell. So, too, the story of Adam and Eve is a story of two people, in the freshness of human life, already desirous of escaping the ordinary--to be like gods. Sacramentally we are reminded that God continues to take the ordi-nary- water, bread and wine, oil--to make extraordinary contact with us. Even when our prayer or the spirituality we live is--try as we may---ordi-nary, we thus have the very quality which allows it to become the vehicle of God's action. The difficulty for us in accepting the ordinary is not just from an inherent human tendency to want to be noticed and praised, but also from the graced impetus to strive, to struggle, to desire to grow beyond where we are. How are we to distinguish these spirits within us, distinguish move-ments that would lead us to close ourselves off to God by our self-focus from movements whereby God is drawing us ever closer in our surrender? Our writers in this issue provide us with various approaches to a lived answer. John Wickham goes right to the heart of our reflections in the lead article by focusing on our choice of being "just ordinary." McMurray and Conroy and Kroeger turn our gaze to the whole complexus of activities 481 482 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 which make up our spirituality--how do we work at making a spirituality our "ordinary" life-source? A different question is posed by Samy and Fichtner when they ask whether the ordinary practices which we find in a spirituality which is not Christian can be an aid in our openness to God. Vest and Schwarz and Gottemoeller draw our attention to various aspects of the ordinary Christian lay life as influenced by a spirituality which is described as monastic, by a new kind of membership relation to a traditional religious congregation, or by a new responsibility within the institutions formerly identified with a particular religious order. In the midst of some of the liturgical renewal stimulated by Vatican II, the practice of a daily Eucharistic celebration has sometimes been a point of dispute, especially among those priests and religious whose congregational rule or custom clearly called for such observance. The confusion often turned on what was celebratory and what was ordinary or daily. John Huels weaves his way through various schools of thought in order to provide a group with a whole cloth of ordinary spiritual practice. Although contemplative life in its dedicated form is recognized as truly a special calling in the Church, Clifford Stevens would have us all draw some nourishment today from its age-old sources. And finally, four different writers--Navone, Monteleone, Seethaler, and Billy--lead us further along in the most common activity of human interaction with God, our attempt at praying. As portrayed in the gospels, Jesus had to spend a lot of his efforts both in his ordinary apostolic life and then again in his resurrected life to prove his ordinariness. He gets tired, he eats and drinks, he needs friends, and he takes time to pray--all ordinary activities for us humans. And yet it was in these very ordinary dealings that God is fully present to us in Jesus Christ. Perhaps the part of the Church year we call "ordinary time" is a necessary reminder to us of how God wants to work with us. David L. Fleming, S.J. Choosing to be "Just Ordinary" John Wickham, S.J Father John Wickham, S.J., is a member of the Upper Canada Province of the Society of Jesus. He is the author of The Common Faith and The Communal Exercises (Ignatian Centre in Montreal): His address is Ignatian Centre; 4567 West Broadway; Montreal, Quebec; Canada H4B 2A7. There is something new, I believe, about the feeling often experienced today of being "just an ordinary person." Many recurrently feel that way despite their natural gifts, highly developed skills, or honored positions. Nor do they need to deny those advantages. In contrast to what others may tend to think, or what the world expects of them, their subjective experience of themselves--what it feels like from within their own skins--is that of a worthwhile even if unfinished, rather unique and yet uncertainly striving, interesting enough but still "just ordinary" life. It is midway between what is heroic and what is base. It is not very glamorous, but neither is it paltry. Its special taste, which is quite different from these alternatives, makes it a rather new kind of experience. If at times we do recognize that experience in ourselves, then we may face a range of questions. Should I accept the feeling as a true and good one? Or would I be better off without it? Should I choose it so often and persis-tently that it becomes habitual for me? Or would that turn into an inauthentic pose? Should I try to find some part of my real identity there? And what exactly would that imply? For example, would it mean I am choosing to be mediocre? The fact that a feeling arises, St. Ignatius tells us, does not prove it to be from God. The latter point needs to be discerned. And kinds of feeling that become widespread in a given society need to be discerned just as much as do feelings that arise only in a particular individual. In fact, our faith com-munities must often set themselves against cultural trends in the world around them. 483 484 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 In order to get at underlying issues, I wish to consider this topic in two stages. The first will be restricted to the phenomenon itself of a "just ordi-nary" feeling as a secular event in our world. Only then will I turn to the sec-ond stage, namely, to take up the kinds of faith response which we might wish to give it today. The first part, then, attempts an analysis of the "feel-ing." The second considers when, or in what circumstances, we might "choose" in faith to make it our own. Our New Cultural Situation To rephrase my opening statement, I believe that a "just ordinary" feel-ing about oneself is somewhat new as a more widespread and recurrent experience in Western culture. In recent years nearly everyone I have spoken to about this has nodded at once and said, "Yes, that's exactly how I often feel." While I possess no statistical data on its prevalence, my impression is that quite a few people have come to recognize its presence in themselves. Let me try to locate this experience more precisely. I am referring to something secular in origin and not necessarily Christian or religious in itself. Like God's rain and sunshine, it may affect everyone, just :and unjust, believer and unbeliever alike. Perhaps it was triggered off by the countercultural movement of the nineteen-sixties, since during the seventies commentators often pointed out the exaggerated attention then being given to inner feel-ings- to the personal self of each one apart from their external involvements. At that time many were being thrown back upon their subjective states of awareness to a degree that had rarely happened before. The seventies were called the "Me Decade," one that belonged to the "Me Generation" whose subjective responses (often referred to then as "getting in touch with your feelings") were given unprecedented emphasis and publicity. What had previously been mostly private now became blatantly public. But perhaps during the eighties not only the novelty but some of the disturbing quality, too, of that rather messy explosion of "subjectivity" in our midst has worn off and subsided to a degree--enough to allow "just ordinary" feelings to rise to the surface and gain attention today. What had occurred, then, was an intensification of self-awareness, a heightening of subjective consciousness among much larger segments of our population than before, and even a thematization of this event in our culture. "Souls" had been transformed into "subjects." Individuals became persons. This had happened much earlier, of course, for some exceptional people and even for smallish groups here and there, but it had never before become such a widespread phenomenon. And it involves matters of considerable importance, not easily dis- Choosing to be "Just Ordinary" / 41~5 missed. Bernard Lonergan has written of "the shift to interiority" in the twentieth century as the emergence of a new "realm" of human reality, i At the opposite end of the scale, the usual wild and foolish misuse of a new gift by the more excitable members of society should not blind us to its underly-ing significance. That is the larger context. More in particular I wish to stress, first of all, the quieter reverberations which those noisy events have left with many per-sons today. The gift itself of interiority is multifaceted, of course, but a first approach would notice that in part it may belong with the newly "expressive self' which has emerged alongside, and often independently of, the older "utilitarian self.''2 While the latter continues to exert a dominant influence in our midst, it must now share the public table with a more mystical parmer. From a slightly different viewpoint the "just ordinary" feeling should be seen mainly as a response to the puritan "strong self' of modern culture. After the nineteenth century in the West we gained the capacity-- appropri-ate to a technocratic society---of developing our ego-strengths. That is, a cer-tain knack, at least for special purposes, of withholding or excluding deeper levels of feeling can free an individual to concentrate on impersonal obser-vations, accurate calculations, and carefully directed efforts of the will. Further development of this inner self-control is required for any kind of efficiency and productivity in the working world. It is clear that the requisite skills are not given by nature but must be culturally developed. Not only our workplaces but our schools and colleges, too, call insistently for the formation of habits (especially of technical reason and will) which enable entry into the competitive society with all the bureau-cratic ladders and graduated salary scales of a successful career---or not-so-successful, as the case may (more often) be. In contrast to this still urgent public arena of "strong selves," individual members also return to private worlds of rest, relaxation, and entertainment, to times of weakness when they may face their own ignorance about the questions posed to them in life and recogn!ze their lack of energy for the continual efforts required. Human beings, it should be stressed, when separated from their social roles and active commitments and thrown back upon their private resources, usually do not find a great deal of their own to sustain them. Modern urban ways have cut people off from the deeply penetrating and densely inter-twined supports of rural societies. As a result, the rootless city dweller becomes conscious of boredom, of empty times to be filled up, of personal neediness and spiritual hungers not easily satisfied. An individual person, after all, is usually endangered by too much isolation from others, and mod- 4~16 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 em technologies often weaken or destroy traditional communities (families, neighborhoods, parishes). Besides, whenever institutions let us down or defeat our aims, or when hurtful clashes disturb our feelings for others, we are left alone to deal with a diminishing present and a more uncertain future. That is when a loving spouse and intimate friends (if available)become essential to our very sur-vival; without them, depressed feelings all too easily turn to thoughts of nonexistence. It was the countercultural movement which reacted against the giant bureaucratic institutions of our world and forced into the broader stream of public life the previously underground resource of subjective feelings. It transformed leisure moments of the kind just mentioned into recurrent times of self-expression which are portrayed and celebrated in our electronic media. This revealed to large numbers of fairly well-off persons in Western societies that their interior selves need to be cultivated in ways that differ enormously from the older patterns of successful selfhood modeled for them in corporate institutions. The counterculture managed to give sustained pub-licity to a host of "alternative lifestyles"---that is, a diverse range of subjec-tive modes in self-identity and interpersonal relating. This vastly expanded "realm of interiority" provides a cultural context for, and is itself fostered by, many recent movements: affirmations of per-sonal rights, the reawakening of charismata, the turn to the East, the renewal of contemplative prayer traditions, and the broadly secular interest in spiritu-alities of all kinds. It is surpi'ising to notice how the word "spiritual" and its cognates have gained such widespread use not only in the arts but in sports, politics, business enterprises, salesmanship, the military--almost every-where today. In our faith tradition, on the other hand, the interior life had a much more restricted meaning. Medieval interiority was exclusively religious--the very opposite of anything secular or worldly. In order to develop one's union with God, according to the late-medieval Imitation of Christ, believers were expected to withdraw from external involvements--at least, from all the habits and attitudes belonging to them--and to cultivate an inner commu-nion with the Lord deep within their hearts. The Imitation, we should remember, is the most popular spiritual classic of all time.3 A crucial aspect of its teaching has to do with the personal self so poignantly revealed by means of a prolonged withdrawal of the kind rec-ommended. But when thrown back upon oneself in this way, what does one find? The oft-repeated answer to this question shows how bare the cup-boards of subjectivity can be: Choosing to be "Just Ordinary" / 487 This is the greatest and most useful lesson we can learn: to know our-selves for what we truly are, to admit freely our own weaknesses and failings.4 I am nothing, and I did not even know it. If left to myself, I am noth-ing; I am all weakness. But if you turn your face to me, [Lord,] I am at once made strong and am filled with new happiness.5 Oh, how humbly and lowly I ought to feel about myself, and even if I seem to have goodness, I ought to think nothing of it . I find myself to be nothing but nothing, absolutely nothing . I peer deep within myself and I find nothing but total nothingness.6 No doubt, older Christians today will recall teachings of this kind as familiar features of their early training. And some of its emphases tend to give us pause. What about the inherent goodness of each human self?. This was occasionally noticed in the Imitation, but should it not have received much more attention? On this question two historical points should perhaps be made. First, the Imitation itself arose from the Devotio Moderna's care for many ordinary members of society who desired to cultivate a devout life amid late-medieval disruptions of Christian Europe (the Black Death and subsequent plagues, persistent warfare, economic hardship, the Great Western Schism).7 Out of their prolonged experience of public calamities came this first popular expression of the personal subject in the West--at least, among the little seg-ments of the population influenced by the "new devotion." The point for us here is that a faith response to those troubled times made possible an interior life for many more persons than before (including lay members living in the world). An inner self could then be cultivated by means of the careful religious teachings extended to them by The Imitation of Christ and similar writings of the movement. Thus, interiority was initial-ly a sacred realm, not a secular one. In order to develop at all, it had to define itself against the secular world. This meant, of course, that the self had precisely "nothing" of its own to fall back upon--no widely accepted norms of individual worth had as yet been formulated. The themes of individualism which we take for granted today as "natural" were simply not available in the Middle Ages. The Devotio Moderna may, in fact, have contributed notably to the first social expression of our individual sense of self. It follows that to blame it for not supplying what it was in the very process of begetting seems misguided. That would be reading history backward--a frequent modern failing. Secondly, it seems that the difference between selfhood (a good sense of self) and selfishness (a bad sense) had not as yet been separately felt. In that 488 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 sacred milieu the differentiation of a secular goodness of creation apart from the fallen condition so frequently stressed in spiritual teachings remained for the future to bring about. In other words, the self-in-its-own-being could not possibly then have been "tasted" distinctly from the self-as-sinful or the self-as- saved-by-grace (or both together). True enough, humility was sometimes considered apart from habits of sinfulness--namely in Mary and in the saints--but even there what received emphasis was the divine grace of their redemption (in Mary's case extending to her prior preservation) from sin's more normal dominion. These excep-tions only proved the rule that humility--as we hear its accents in the Imitation--arises from the sharpened interior taste of one's sinful self that usually follows upon forgiveness. In view of this cultural moment of The Imitation of Christ in the early fifteenth century, its lack of any emphasis on natural goodness for the indi-vidual self is understandabl~. It is true that, by the later sixteenth century, Montaigne's Essays and Shakespeare's Hamlet and Richard II had begun to anticipate modem feelings of individual selfhood, but this was still an excep-tional happening within the sacred medieval precincts, it may be said. So many developments have taken place in the centuries since that time--the Cartesian ego, theKantian turn to the subject, the Romantic movement, nineteenth-century liberalism, as well as the already mentioned "shift to interiority" ~ind countercultural movement in our own century, that we cannot have recourse solely to a retrieval of medieval gifts. In short, the new interiority of our day differs a great deal from the "interior life" handed down to us in our spiritual tradition. The old interiority was (a) fully sacred in meaning, (b) defined in opposition to the "world," (c) low in self-esteem while high in reliance on God alone, and (d) rarely to be shared with others socially. By contrast, the new interiority is (a) mainly sec-ular in meaning, (b) defined against the mainline institutions of society (including those of the Church), (c) self-affirming and self-accepting, even if admitting one's need of friends and of the divine Other, and (d) eagerly shared with others in public lifestyles. Like many others, in my Jesuit formation I was often counseled to ignore, set aside, or "offer up" my individual feelings as distracting or, more likely, harmful to my fuller appropriation of the uniform spiritual teachings provided. These latter consisted in learning the general answers true for everyone alike and in keeping the rules set down for all without exception. That way of forming members, as we know, has been in great part aban-doned in recent decades. In any case, it had introduced painful distortions into our medieval heritage. Choosing to be 'Just Ordinary" / 489 The main "warp" in question was directly related, I believe, to the nine-teent~ h-century rise of the "strong self" already mentioned. Let me briefly review that development. As I have noted, humility had traditionally been ~'ocused on the sinful condition of those converted to the Lord. It did not dwell merely on mortal sins committed prior to their deeper conversion, but much more on the venial sins which they came to recognize in present self-awareness. This medieval tradition may be gathered in detail from Alphonsus Rodriguez's Practice of Perfection and Christian Virtues.8 Against that backdrop the modem ideal of a "strong sell" to be fash-ioned in youth by anyone hoping to succeed in the secular world, or even to survive in it, presented a considerable contrast. Prior to 1965, our Catholic parishes and schools managed to combine this modem requirement (a strong selfhood formed in the conscious mind through repression of deeper feel-ings) With traditional teachings on humility (reliance on God alone because of personal sinfulness and the "nothingness" of self). This was made easier by means of the invisible wall erected around the distinctly Catholic world. By the later nineteenth century, of course, Christian faith had already become to a large extent privatized, separated from public life and domesticated in family and parish activities. For Catholics in North America, the immigrant Church had developed its own "garrison" mentality so effective!y that one could cultivate a traditionally humble self in the narrowly religious realm and at the same time a secularly aggressive self in the business, professional, political, or broadly social realm. That was the religious situation in which I was raised, and I did not then advert to its inconsistencies. Perhaps many others today can recall this com-bination of strivings. However opposite they were in character, we tried to attain them both and to some extent we succeeded--by the grace of God. In recent decades that whole effort has disappeared and as a result (among many other quandaries) a whole spectrum of possible selves has become available today. It is a somewhat unsettling set of choices. But amidst all our struggles to find or fashion personal identities (or perhaps to fortify older ways in the very teeth of these developments), the curious new event has made its presence felt--the "just ordinary" feeling. Contemporary Faith Responses At this point I wish to bring into our discussion a distinction rather dif-ferent from any mentioned so far. In a recent book, Hopkins, the Self and God, Walter Ong, S.J., has emphasized the "taste of self" which figured so prominently in Gerard Hopkins's poetry, letters, and notebooks.9 As a chap- 490 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 ter on the Victorian context makes clear, the theme was not unusual even then. But Hopkins, because of his unique attention to it and extraordinary gifts of language and feeling, managed to anticipate many of our present concerns. The distinction employed by Fr. Ong in his discussion is between the self as "I" or "me" in the densely concrete, subjective stance underlying all one's experiences and, on the other hand, the self as objectified in various characteristics, habitual attitudes, and acquired abilities. Ong names the first of these "the subject-self' and the second "the self-concept"--a terminology already in use. More is meant than merely a difference between subjective and objec-tive qualities of the self. The so-called "objective" side points to an individu-al's attempts to gain a sense of developing identity--at first through the reactions :of other people, and then through one's own continued striving. Often a variety of contrasting possibilities are "tried on for size" and lived out for a time, but later modified or rejected. But underneath every such effort lurks a richer source of seifhood that unifies the ongoing and often interrupted sequence. Moreover, the subject-self also feels--at least indirectly--the inadequa-cy of whatever aspects of self-conception are presently entertained. The lat-ter are never quite right. There is always a certain sense of"more to come": Why do I doubt my capacity to keep this up any longer? Maybe I should change my mind about the whole business? Or am I trapped in a "fate" of being the way I am?l° And as soon as some new aspect of the self gains initial clarity, there is often a tendency to react in a different direction. Even if I should rejoice in a rather flattering or at least affirmative symbol of myself, my subconscious feelings may tend to exert a counterinfluence. Or if snubbed by others or blamed in any way, I might resent it at several levels at once (despite a ten-dency to self-doubt), but I will also search for memories of my better qualities. A great variety of varying patterns of such "identity searches" may be noted in spiritual direction. But what I wish to stress here is the unifying "I" in every pattern or in every sequence of changing patterns over years of per-sonal growth. "I" am the enduring (somehow even unchanging?) recipient, resource, and agent of all such reflexive feelings, perceptions, visions, and (as Eliot has taught us) endless revisions. For I am always the one who is unfinished. I exist amid processes that are ever moving me into uncertain futures. This mysterious "I" may be used, of course, in a way that includes the self-concept of my current identity. Most often the two blend together in my Choosing to be "Just Ordinary" / 49'1 experience of them. Wider, more inclusive self-affirmations are normal and even important. For the self-concept can never really be independent of the subject-self--the two functions are inherently connected and interactive. My various self-conceptions (especially at their least vague, most fully articulat-ed stages) need to be tested repeatedly in the subject-self. Do I feel at home in them? In fact, their authenticity becomes known only insofar as they truly actualize my subjectively felt potentials. On the other side, the subject-self cannot long endure without some kind of self-concept. Even when denied previous realizations in the social world, the subject-self may have recourse to fantasy roles in the theatre of imagina-tion. For I cannot avoid notions of selfhood altogether--my neediness finds relief only in the movement to some form of self-realization, however indi-rect, implied, or even self-sacrificial it may become for a time. But what is new today for many persons is that 'T' may recurrently refer quite exclusively to the subject-self alone. In such cases the needful relation to identities is not denied but somehow "bracketed out" or "put on hold." This distinction appears to be called for by what I have named the "just ordi- ¯nary" feeling. More precisely, the "just ordinary" feeling belongs especially to the subject-self. Now, this distinction may unlock several, of the puzzling questions which arise .from our cultural situation today. It might resolve the problem for all who try to decide whether or not--even precisely as a Christian-- they should choose to be "just ordinary." Not Mediocrity, but Limitation A first question to be faced concerns mediocrity. If one settles into a "just ordinary" feeling of oneself, would this not bring an end to growth, to any serious striving for improvement? Would it not ring the death knell of idealism (in a good sense)? Would it banish from the competitive society believers who chose to accept it--as though our economic system as such is inherently alien? Even more traditional spiritualities sought to refute the accusation that Christian faith necessarily inclined believers to accept the established pow-ers and to resign themselves to exploitation by cle4er elites (Marx's "opium of the people" view about the role of religion in society). But that false use of Christian faith is not in question here. If a devout life means acceptance of manipulation and coercion by others, then it has simply lost its roots in the prophetic teachings of Christ. Instead, what is relevant here is the insight that only the subject-self can feel "just ordinary." Such a feeling cannot rightly belong to the self-concept. 499 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 My position is that only insofar as one becomes aware of one's "purely" sub-jective selfhood in contrast to current or possible fulfillments of one's poten-tials (the self-concept always means that) does the "just ordinary" feeling arise in the first place. It would follow, then, that for persons who do not experience this newish feeling (and no one is required to do so!) a decision to be "just ordinary" might mean choosing to be mediocre. That is not the case, however, for those who do recognize the new feel-ing in themselves; what they experience, I would say, is a new sense of per-sonal limits. No doubt, our knowledge of limitations is pluriform. Each person would tend to stress different aspects of the overall human "contin-gency" (its more technical name) as this comes home to individual lives. Limits are reached in our work, our relationships, our different life-stages, our suffering of reverses, rejections, sickness, injuries, or close encounters with death and dying: Our knowledge and abilities have a great variety of limitations, but so do our energies and our capacity for making creative responses. There are traditional ways of coming to know and accept our littleness, but what I have in mind here gives a different resonance to these more familiar events. In Western cultures it may seem natural to invest one's whole identity in a career role, with its achievements, or with honors already received (here the "strong self" makes its presence felt). But against this tendency I find it possible, like Hopkins, to identify mainly with my subject-self--even though my developed talents, skills, and other acquisitions (whatever their true worth) may be kept in view. I do not deny the crucial importance of these factors in my life as a whole. But I know I could lose all use of them if I suffered a grave stroke or a debilitating heart attack, for example. And throughout that illness, whose effects could be long-lasting, I would contin-ue to experience myself as "me"--a limited person, unique in my special taste of self, the same as I was as a child and teenager, and surely to remain so until death. If I am unable to make this sort of self-identification, but insist on claiming my developed self-concept as the only true "me," the danger is that a debilitating illness may tend to destroy me altogether. And those who live into old age, even if they never suffer a health crisis of the dramatic sort mentioned, may eventually experience their subject-self as "just ordinary"-- stripped of any actual use of their various gifts. In traditional Christian teaching our need for reliance on God will nor-mally be heightened and dramatized by major experiences of suffering (',limit" situations). This will surely continue to exert a central influence on personal realizations of Christ's paschal mystery. The unusual note to be Choosing to be "Just Ordinary '" / 493 sounded here, however, concerns the dimension of selfhood which our cul-tural moment may be bringing alive. The 'T' whom Jesus calls and unites to himself, the "I" who undergoes spiritual deaths and who may then receive new life in the risen Lord--this 'T' may now choose to identify with "just ordinary" feelings rather than either "nothing" or "something good denied." It is a form of limited selfhood available today to a much larger number of persons than ever before. Humility in a New Key As cultural events bring forward different ways of experiencing not only the humanized world but also the human subject in and by whom the world is humanized, individuals growing aware of their own gifts are always exposed to new dangers from pride. In his "Two Standards," we remember, St. Ignatius highlights the time-honored medieval teaching that pride is the source and origin of every other vice, and that humility, as St. Bernard puts it, is "the foundation and safeguard of all virtues." It follows that the emer-gence of a "just ordinary" feeling raises another question: precisely what effect might this have on our traditional sense of what the virtue of humility requires? No doubt, the rise of modern democracies brought a stronger emphasis on equality into social relations in the West (in contrast to earlier ideals of "subordination," of submission to those in higher orders). Every member, rich or poor, is supposed to stand on the same ground, in a civil sense as well as "before God," as every other member. But this opened the way to compe-tition in the public "free marketplace," where the many levels of social clas-sification become even more clearly marked than in the premodern world. Personal evaluations and interpersonal judgments are so much more intense than previously that the "neurotic" society of our day has become familiar to US.11 In this context modern teachings on humility tended to stress the differ-ence between the office and the office holder. And this traditional distinction was often combined with a focus on teamwork or group contributions. In sports, the heroes who score the highest number of points, even the winning goals, humbly acknowledge the help of their teammates and the glory of the whole team, rather than their individual merits. In short, modern humility consists mainly in putting oneself down. Self-abasement, especially after some signs of achievement appear in the struggle for success over others, is felt to be essential. This means that humility and humiliation are closely approximated in modern competitive societies. But in the postmodern world (if that is where we are today) many are 494 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 beginning to sense their subjective distance from the very structures of suc-cess and achievement themselves. Perhaps this is why human vulnerability and powerlessness have received so much attention in recent years. If I am right in this--to some extent and for some members only, of course--then the "just ordinary" feeling would denote an ability to experience self-worth independently of competition for successful contributions in the established institutions of the world. When the feeling does mean that, I would argue in favor of seeking to realize it in one's life. This would not necessarily signify nonparticipation in the large struc-tures of society--whether in business, politics, sports, communications, or whatever. But it could qualify the style of our participation because our main sense of self would no longer consist in whatever we might be able to achieve. To gain this rather sophisticated balance, of course, might not always be easy. It would mean learning how to give one's whole energies to highly skilled performances without pinning one's sense of self to success in performing well. Whatever the-degree of success or failure realized over time, those who contribute would continue to experience themselves to be "just ordinary" members of a community which regularly affirms their worth on a basis other than that of competition, success, or failure. This would bring a newish tone, a new chord, I think, to the age-old music of humility. Sacred and Secular Community The "just ordinary" feeling may also raise a question because of its very secularity. Normally the Church lives in a certa{n state of tension with the secular society in which its witness to Christ's message is to be given. But the quality of that "creative tension" can vary a great deal. In our day the tension may disappear whenever a new secular discovery affecting human growth is announced in a book or magazine, or its virtues are proclaimed in the media. It may then be taken up by skilled practitioners and made available in local programs. In recent decades we have received many such gifts. An example might be the interpretation of dreams by means of Jung's psychological theories. This can become quite an interesting activity, valu-able in itself. But there is a danger that believers who are attracted to it may then transfer most of their religious energies to essentially secular programs of this kind (think, too, of the many self-help groups claiming attehtion today) and thereafter give little attention to more central Christian practices. In particular, our own question concerns the "just ordinary" feeling. Is it another "brand-new discovery" of the type just mentioned? Does it not sug-gest a secular facet of human life which may all too easily replace more Choosing to be 'Just Ordinary" / 495 authentic 'teachings? Are we simply "shaking holy water" on secular objects and calling them Christian? I would reply that, while its potential misuses are undeniable, its right use may also be safeguarded if the underlying issue is kept clearly in sight-- the issue of the human call to transcendence. I will conclude this essay by exploring that deeper concem. At one level we remember that any new discovery may be claimed by Christian faith because all that is human belongs to God the Creator. Thus, we may recognize and welcome every fresh gift of human expertise, inte-grate it within the larger faith (making it subordinate, not dominant), and in this manner sanctify all things in Christ. No doubt this should be so. But at a deeper level of analysis the question arises in a new form because secularity (secular realities taken in a good sense, as differing from secularism) is always related to the sacred as its opposite. In this way Judaism and Christianity themselves initiated a radical process of secularization. For us the world is no longer "full of gods" since we believe in the one Creator who is beyond all created things (transcen-dent). Our faith has secularized the cosmos. Later on in history the civilized world, too, took further giant steps on the same journey. In great part today our political, economic, social, and cultural institutions are experienced not as immediately God-given but as humanly devised. In this more radical sense, then, whenever ongoing secularization enables a new gift of human life to be realized, the sacred powers of tradi-tional faith need to be adapted to the new situation. What had formerly been handled indirectly by religious beliefs has now come directly (even if incom-pletely) under human management. In faith we may welcome such events as fulfillments of God's intentions in creating humans "in his own image and likeness" (that is, cocreative with him). But we also note an important clue: there should be no change in secularity without a corresponding change in sacrality. The frequent failure here is a simple transfer of energies from the sacred into the secular realm while reducing religious operations to empty words alone. More specifically, if the emergence of "just ordinary" feelings can bring new aspects of human existence within the range of human competency, then we may rejoice in this prospect on condition that a corresponding, positive change occurs in our sense of specifically sacred gifts. But if the change should be merely negative, a loss of religious energies, then something has gone wrong. For example, the work of Carl Rogers and others on self-actualization and self-realization has an obvious bearing on our topic, but even here the 496 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 "just ordinary" feeling takes the process a step further, I think. All of these factors, we should remember, are secularizations of human powers which previously had been contained or implied within sacred gifts. 12 In Gerard Hopkins's poetry the sacred envelope remained untorn: Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; Selves--goes itself; myself it speaks and spells, Crying What I do is me: for that I came. I say more: the just man justices; Keeps grace: that keeps all his goings graces; Acts in God's eye what in God's eye he is-- Christ--for Christ plays in ten thousand places, Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his . 13 Even more to the point are his famous closing lines in another poem: In a flash, at a trumpet clash, I am all at once what Christ is, since he was what I am, and This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, patch, matchwood, immortal diamond, Is immortal diamond. 14 The eternal worth to be realized at last in Christ is anticipated by a believer who knows his subject-self as "poor potsherd" and "matchwood." Surely this comes close to our "just ordinary" feeling even if its validation depends on faith in the resurrection. If we look back to Hopkins, we can per-ceive its secular potentials lurking within his very religious lines. In any case, now that it has emerged to stand on its own feet in our midst, we are challenged to respond afresh in faith to a new aspect of human self-realization. We may rejoice inthis event, but without a positive religious response of some kind the 16ss of transcendence becomes palpable. We may happily accept the growth of a human value, but its simultaneous excision from religious meanings calls for new initiatives, for real adaptations which do not downgrade the relevance of our transcendent faith but rather give it fresh impetus, redirecting its energies in new ways. Two principles may be l~ormulated in this regard. I have already been exploring the first of these, which might be put as follows: The Principle of Adaptation: Every new growth of secular competence should stimulate a corresponding renewal of sacred powers. The second may'be named: The Principle of Intensity: In our creative response to a given process of secularization, one important criterion would be a specific heighten-ing, rather than any lessening, in the experience of transcendence. Choosing to be "Just Ordinary" / 497 Whenever the Christian component is subtly reduced to a comfortable repetition of now irrelevant phrases, this second principle has been ignored. The urgency of transcendent faith for human affairs can easily be diminished without any advertence to its loss. Our "just ordinary" feeling, for example, simply cries out for creative faith responses. But what are these to be? That is the real issue. Will our sense of Christian humility be intensifie~l instead of being replaced? What fresh meaning can we now give to the crucial "poverty of spirit" which indicates membership in the Lord's kingdom? The heightened subjectivity that often seems to afflict us may also serve to awaken creative potentials previously unknown. Even though it makes us experience our human limits as never before, our acceptance of "just ordi-nary" feelings could, in fact, lead to new dimensions of liberation. But this will not be automatic. Our spiritual behavior will need to adjust itself cre-atively to the new gift. Possible responses are always at hand. Whenever in faith the members of our new communities reflect upon the significance of feeling "just ordinary" togetherl I believe the Real Presence of the risen Christ may receive a fresh emphasis. This heightened communal awareness may correspond in a unique way to our traditional poverty of spir-it. Precisely here a new intensity of faith may be gathering force. During the nineteen-twenties T.S. Eliot insistently employed the symbol of the Angelus bell, a traditional reminder of the moment of Incarnation. In that extraordinary instant, and whenever it is made present to us today, tran-scendent powers cut through the secular time dimension to disturb our mod-em preoccupations. In similar fashion a few decades earlier, wher~ striving to resist new inroads of modernity Pope Pius X led Catholic parishes to give renewed attention to the Real Presence in the Eucharist (mainly as reserved in the tabernacle or received during Holy Communion). Whatever judgments we may wish to pass upon those earlier modes of resis-tance, it seems clear that a creative response for today will need to focus on the Eucharist as an action performed by the whole community. We may be able to enter the eucharistic action as full participants because we surrender in faith to the Lord who makes his Real Presence felt in our ways of relating to one another. The "just ordinary" feeling may be chosen as a means to that effective recognition. When in a small faith community the members have learned how to act and speak out of their newfound sense of ordinary selfhood, all their gifts may be appreciated warmly and without exaggeration. They can be put into action zestfully since the members are set free from the anxieties of personal competition. Each one's acceptance by all the others may become intensified through the distinctly felt presence of the risen Lord in their community today--not merely by anticipat.ing the Second Coming. 498 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 In short, we are being graced, membered in a new life, invigorated, and turned in hope to the future by this much more active presence of Christ. That intensification of God's "reigning" in us may correspond accurately and be found to dovetail beautifully with the newly released "just ordinary" feelings of the members about themselves. NOTES l Method in Theology, New York: Herder & Herder, 1972, pp. 257-262. 2 On this distinction see Robert Bellah and others, Habits of the Heart, Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: Univ. of California Press, 1985, pp. 32-35 and passim. 3 SeeThomas ~ Kempis, The Imitation of Christ, trans. Wm. Creasy, Notre Dame, Ind.: Ave Maria Press, 1989; "Introduction," pp. 11-13. Also Devotio Moderna: Basic Writings, trans. J. van Engen, New York: Paulist Press, 1988; "Introduction," p. 8: "The Imitation of Christ has undoubtedly proved the most influential devotional book in Western Christian history." It has also been translated into all the great lan-guages of the world. 4 Book I, chap. 28; trans. Creasy, p. 32. 5 Book III, chap. 8; trans. Creasy, p. 95. 6 Book III, chap. 14; trans. Creasy, p. 102. 7 Details are given in J. Leclercq, E Vandenbrouke, L. Bouyer, The Spirituality of the Middle Ages (vol. 11 of The History of Christian Spirituality), London: Bums & Oates, 1968, pp. 481-486 (text by F. Vandenbrouke). 8 Trans. Joseph Rickaby, S.J., Chicago: Loyola Univ. Press, 1929; vol. II, pp. 165- 352: "The Eleventh Treatise: On Humility." See chap. IIl: "Of Another Main Motive for a Man to. gain Humility, which is the Consideration of His Sins." (The first main motive, given in chap. II, is "To know oneself to be full of miseries and weak-nesses.") 9 Walter J. Ong, S.J., Hopkins, the Self, and God, Toronto, Buffalo, London: Univ. of Toronto Press, 1986; see especially pp. 22-28. For a recent philosophical discus-sion see Frederick Copleston, S.J., The Tablet, 11 Nov. 1989 (vol. 243, no. 7791), pp. 1302-1303. l0 Cited by Alphonsus Rodriguez, Practice of Perfection and Christian Virtues, p. 168, see n. 8, above. Chap. II, "That Humility is the Foundation of All Virtues," pp. 168-170; chap. III, "In Which It Is Shown More in Detail How Humility Is the Foundation of All Virtues, by Going Through the Chief of Them." ~l On this, see Bellah and others, Habits of the Heart (n. 2, above), pp. 117-121, for its development in the U.S.A. But similar versions of "modem nervousness" and "therapeutic culture" could be gathered from the other Western traditions (Continental, English, Canadian.). ~2 Confer Paul C. Vitz, Psychology As Religion, Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 1977, pp. 20-27, for a discussion of Carl Rogers, Abraham Maslow, and Rollo May as moving from religious into secular concerns. Choosing to be "Just Ordinary" / 499 ~3 The Poems of Gerard Manley Hopkins, ed. W.H. Gardiner and N.H. MacKenzie, 4th ed., London: Oxford Univ. Press, 1967; poem no. 57, p. 90. 14 Ibid, poem no. 72, p. 106. The Hunter Yahweh's manifest love has all the proud and fierce majesty of a turkey buzzard flying with outstretched wings upon hot afternoon breezes, which are thrust upward unconstrained from ocher grabens below. This carnivorous bird is the other side of the symbolic dove. It is the Master of the Universe when he is not content waiting for hesitant or indifferent souls who fail to seek him. Rather, he becomes the strident hunter pursuing those who choose hiding in dark shadows caused by lichen-covered trees, or along cow-trodden riverbanks, where brown mud oozes into slowly flowing, opaque waters. Yahweh spreads his wings, searches for the goats and lambs, such as you and me, when we forget how to look for him circling over us in the translucent sky. Brother Richard Heatley, F. S. C. De La Salle, "Oaklands" 131 Farnham Avenue Toronto, Ontario Canada M4A 1H7 At the Threshold of a Christian Spirituality: Ira Progoff's Intensive Journal Method John McMurry, S. S Father John McMurry, S.S., cun'ently serves at the St. Mary's Spiritual Center and as a spiritual director for St. Mary's Seminary and University in Baltimore, Maryland. He has taken part in thirty workshops led by Dr. Ira Progoff since 1976, and he has led some sixty Intensive Journal workshops since 1978. His address is All Saints Church; 4408 Liberty Heights Avenue; Baltimore, Maryland 21207. Since 1978 1 have been teaching Ira Progoff's Intensive Journal method occasionally at weekend workshops. Dialogue House, the umbrella organiza-tion covering all of Progoff's works, describes his method as a program of "professional and personal growth with a spiritual point of view." It is a non-analytic means for individuals to attain two goals. First, it enables individu-als to recognize and accept the wholeness of their life without denying the reality of any of its contents, no matter how unpleasant or embarrassing. Secondly, it enables individuals to get a feel for the consistency in the direc-tion that their life is taking as they discover potentials for the future hidden within their personal past. The goals of the program are attained by means of a variety of written exercises which are done in a group setting under the direction of an experi-enced leader who is committed to follow authorized guidelines. Individuals in the group work in private with the contents of their own life. The only prereq-uisites are an atmosphere of quiet and mutual respect, and an attitude of open-ness and acceptance on the part of each exercitant toward his or her own life. The program is not only nonanalytic; it is also nonjudgmental and is structured to help people experientially discover answers to questions such as the following: Where am I in the course of my life right now? How did I get to the place where I am in the course of life? Where is my life trying to go from here? What is the next step? 500 Progoffs Intensive Journal Method / 501 The Intensive Journal method itself has no content. The method is a dynamic structure to which each person supplies the content from one's own life. The structure aims at enabling individuals to establish deeper contact with the flow of creative energy in their own life. It is especially useful for people engaged in decision-making, for people who feel confused about the next step in life, for those who have lost contact with the direction their life wants to take, for those who feel alienated, isolated, or meaningless, and for those who simply want to expand their personal horizons of creativity. In creating the Intensive Journal program, Progoff had in mind people in a secular culture who are unfamiliar with or alienated by traditional religious language. However, the awarenesses stimulated by the exercises of his method serve to help Christians experience meaning in traditional doctrines which might otherwise remain merely propositional. In the case of people who approach it from the perspective of faith, the Intensive Journal program is a form of prayer. The Intensive Journal Method as Prayer In a chapter entitled "Prayer as Dialogue," Karl Rahner discusses prayer in terms apropos of the Intensive Journal method. He is addressing a com-mon problem of people who are earnest in their efforts to enter into dialogue with God. They often state the problem something like this: "When I pray, I cannot tell whether I am talking to myself or to God." Rahner challenges the presupposition that God says "something" to us in prayer. He raises some "what-ifs": What if we were to say that in prayer we experience ourselves as the utterance of God, ourselves as arising from and decreed by God's freedom in the concreteness of our existence? What if what God primarily says to us is ourselves in the facticity of our past and present and in the freedom of our future? Rahner concludes that when, by grace, we experience ourselves as the utterance of God to himself and understand this as our true essence, which includes the free grace of God's self-communication, and when in prayer we freely accept our existence as the word of God in which God promises him-self to us with his word, then our prayer is already dialogic, an exchange with God. Then we hear ourself as God's address. We do not hear "some-thing" in addition to ourself as the one already presupposed in our dead fac-ticity, but we hear ourself as the self-promised word in which God sets up a listener and to which God speaks himself as an answer. 1 Rahner is suggesting that God's word to me in prayer is not an idea; rather, God's word to me in prayer'is myself, that is, my personal, individual life story--past, present, and future. The implication is that my life story is 502 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 important in my relationship with God because it is the way God speaks to me and I to God. A further implication of Rahner's proposal is that I enter into dialogue with God ipsofacto under three conditions: 1) when I experience my life story as God's word addressed to himself; 2) when at the same time I understand that God is really present in my actual life story--past, present, and future-- as a free and undeserved gift of himself to me; 3) and when I freely accept my life story as the word of God in which God promises his Word to me. The Intensive Journal program is an instrument which lends itself to the discovery of the real presence of God in one's own personal life story. The content of the program is the content of the life of the Journal-writer; hence it is through the life of the Journal-writer that Christian faith may enter into the individual's use of the Intensive Journal exercises. Progoff has described the prayer dimension of his method as follows: The Intensive Journal work is indeed a species of prayer and meditation, but not in isolation from life and not in contrast to active life involve-ment. Rather, it is meditation in the midst of the actuality of our life experiences. It draws upon the actualities of life for new awarenesses, and it feeds these back into the movement of each life as a whole.2 The Intensive Journal Method and Spirituality In his "handbook of contemporary spirituality," Rahner raises the ques-tion whether the term "spirituality" is good, understandable, useful, or even has any meaning. Then he makes the observation that the crucial point for personal and pastoral life today is not so much a matter of getting the "spiri-tual" dimension of existence into our heads or other people's by means of abstract and conceptual indoctrination (which he says is ineffective anyway) as it is a matter of discovering the Spirit as that which we really experience in ourselves.3 Perhaps Rahner slightly understates the case. It may be that the crucial point for us personally and in our pastoral work today is simply to discover "the Spirit" as a fact of our own personal experience and to help others do the same. Furthermore, in order to be able to use the word "spirituality," we might let it refer simply to the individual's .relationship with God or, in other words, to what goes on in the creative process between God and each of us. This article presents Ira Progoff's Intensive Journal program as an aid to the process which is going on between an individual and God. The program adds no content to the life of the individual; it mirrors the movement which is already going on and stimulates that movement by feeding new aware- Progoffs Intensive Journal Method / 503 nesses back into the movement of life. ("Journal feedback" is one of the main features which distinguish this method from an ordinary diary.) This program, then, is a dynamic structure for evoking self-transcendence from the factual contents of a life story. For a person of faith it is a way of discov-ering the Spirit "as what we really experience in ourselves." Genesis of the Intensive Journal Method Following Progoff's discharge from the U.S. Army, he earned a doctor-ate in the area of'the history of ideas from the New School of Social Research in New York City. On the basis of his dissertation, Jung's Psychology and Its Social Meaning, published in 1953 and still in print, Progoff was awarded grants for postdoctoral studies with Carl Jung for two years. By virtue of those studies Progoff was licensed as a therapist by the state of New York, where he went into private practice after returning from Switzerland. In 1959 Progoff founded the Institute for Research in Depth Psychology at Drew University in New Jersey and served as its director until 1971. During those twelve years-he and his graduate students searched out the dynamics of creativity in published biographies of creative people whose life stories had ended. From his research Progoff concluded that creativity occurs through the interplay among various dimensions of life which may at first seem disparate. On the surface it may appear that the process in one dimension is unrelated to the process in another dimension, whereas in fact something new comes into being when the individual makes correlations among the dimensions of life. It is as though the individual is a complexus of certain processes which occur throughout life on different planes. Progoff has developed, the Intensive Journal method over more than a quarter-century of helping his clients apply the fruits of his research by dis-covering hidden sources of creativity within their own lives. He began teach-ing his method to groups in the late 1950s. In 1975 he published At a Journal Workshop, a thorough description of his haethod up to that time. In 1980 he published a companion volume, The Practice of Process Meditation, which added another dimension to the program. Dimensions of Human Existence In Progoff's view, the artist is paradigmatic. Each individual is both the artist and the ultimate artwork of life, and yet individuals execute the art-work which is themselves by engaging in outer activity which has inner meaning for the one doing it and beneficial consequences for society. In other words, in order for each of us to be fulfilled as an individual, we must 504 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 do some work (opus as distinguished from labor) which is both personally and socially meaningful. At the same time as we are creating our lifework, the doing of the work is creative of us. The basic dialogue of life is the dynamic actual (as distinguished from logical) dialogue between human cre-ators and their works. In Progoff's words, "Outward activity propelled from within is the essence of creative existence.''4 From his research on the lives of creative people Progoff learned to dis-tinguish certain dimensions of life as loci of the components of creativity. The Intensive Journal method recognizes those dimensions as sources of the raw material of creativity in anybody's life, They are the dimensions of time, ¯ of relationships, and of personal symbols. The Intensive Journal workbook uses color-coded dividers to mark off various sections in each of which the Journal-writer deals with the move-ment in one particular dimension of life. Within each of the main sections are tabbed subdividers of the same color as the main divider. Each tab bears the name of the specific exercise to be entered there. For example, the "Life/Time Dimension" is indicated by a red divider and contains four tabbed red subdividers; each of the four tabs bears the title of the written exercise to be entered there by the Journal writer. Similarly, the dimension of personal relationships in life, called the "Dialogue Dimension," is indicated by an orange divider and comprises five tabbed subdividers for each of the five "dialogue exercises." The part of the Intensive Journal workbook for making entries which deal with dreams and personal imagery is called the "Depth Dimension." It is indicated by a blue divider and five tabbed blue subdividers. In summary, the workbook comprises sections which reflect and stimu-late the movement of an individual life in each of its dimensions. Each of the main sections of the workbook represents a dimension of life and comprises several subsections for various written exercises which deal with the con- "tents of that life in styles appropriate to that particular dimension. The Dimension of Life/Time We do not get the chance to start life over, but the Intensive Journal pro-gram does offer us a tested means of restructuring our life from the perspec-tive of the present. At the same time it provides a means of discovering unactualized potentials which we may have overlooked the first time around, or which were not ripe then and may at some point in time be able to take a form they could not have taken originally. In studying the biography of a deceased person generally recognized as creative, the end or goal of that career may be clear and unmistakable, even Progof['s Intensive Journal Method / 505 though the lif'e story includes setbacks, stalls, reversals, and obstacles. It may be easy to see how everything in that life was leading up to some great scientific or philosophical work because we are viewing it from the perspec-tive of the end. But what if I am the life story I am working with? In that case the life process is still in progress. I am not looking at a still photograph but a mov-ing picture, and I am looking at it from the inside. In that case I start with the present epoch of my personal life and get a feel for this period of life from the inside. That is, I allow myself to feel the quality or tone of my life during this present period and record it objectively. The record I make of the pre-sent period will be an objective statement of my subjective experience of life at present. Then I am in a position to allow the course of my life to present itself to me from the perspective of the present in the form of about a dozen significant events. Each of those significant events serves to characterize a whole period of life. Of course, many other things also happened during that period. There are other exercises for dealing with them. The idea in this exercise is to get a feel for the wholeness and continuity of my life as I allow it to present itself to me in an articulated form so that I can use other Journal exercises to deal with it one period at a time. All the Intensive Journal exercises presuppose the attitude of openness and receptivity mentioned above, a nonjudgmental attitude toward life. It is not so much the objective contents of a life that affect its degree of creativi-ty, as the subjective attitude toward that life. In the creative restructuring of a life, a relaxed, friendly approach which allows surprises is important. Dimension of Relationships In the life/time dimension treated above, there is a principle of whole-ness, continuity, and direction,toward-a-goal at work. In the dimension of relationships, the dynamic is that of dialogue, that is, the give-and-take of equals listening and responding to each other in a spirit of mutual trust and acceptance. The principle of "dialogue relationship" applies first of all to significant people during various epochs of life. The. same dynamic applies analogously to meaningful work-projects (opera), which, like persons, seem to have a life of their own. In his research on creative lives, Progoff discovered that creativity occurs when people approach several kinds of meaningful contents of their life not as inert matter to be manipulated but as personal entities. That is, he discovered that creativity occurs when people acknowledge that each of sev-eral meaningful contents of their life has a life story of its own analogous to 506 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 that of a person. Each of these contents of life has a life story with blockages to growth toward a goal, with hopes, disappointments, successes, and so forth. He found that for the sake of movement toward acceptance of life and all it holds, it is of paramount importance to establish a "dialogue rel~ition-ship" not only with persons and works but witl~ the physical and societal dimensions of life, and with events, situations, and circumstances of life which "just happen." Progoff's research into de facto creative lives yielded two important corollaries. First, the movement which the dialogue relationship fosters is intrinsic to the "creative spirit. Secondly, in the dimension of relationships as well as in other dimensions of life, the factual contents of life are less impor-tant in the creative process than the way people relate to whatever the con-tents of their life are. The "Dialogue Dimension" of the Intensive Journal workbook offers a format for a variety of exercises which enable the Journal writer to engage in written dialogue with people who have played meaningful roles in their life, with work projects, their own body, sources of values in their life (v.g., fami-ly, ethnicity, religious commitment), and things over which they had no con-trol. The purpose of these dialogue scripts is to give a voice to the meaningful contents of life, that is, to provide them a forum in which mutu-ality can flourish in the form of a "dialogue relationship" rather than a mere-ly utilitarian relationship. This leaves the Journal writer open to the possibility of something new emerging from an old relationship from the past. That new something may contribute an insight or an awareness which is of benefit to another relationship or which creatively affects the movement in another dimension of life. The Dimension of Inner Symbols This dimension of life refers to dreams, "twilight imagery" and personal wisdom-figures as the vehicles which come forward spontaneously to carry the movement of life further. The aim of the exercises in this part of the Journal, called the "Depth Dimension," is to facilitate spontaneous correla-tions between inner imagery and outer life so that new insights, awarenesses, and possibilities for action and decision-making might come to the surface of consciousness. Then, by means of appropriate Journal exercises, they can be fed back into the ongoing movement of life and thus stimulate growth by creating new configurations in the way things fit together in life. Progoff tends to shy away from the use of dreams in his method because many people seem unable to deal with them except analytically. The Intensive Journal method of working with dreams is basically to allow the movement Progoffs Intensive Journal Method / 507 in a recurring dream or in a cluster of dreams to suggest some correlation with movement in one of the other dimensions of life. Then the exercitant may use appropriate Journal exercises to work in that dimension of life. The Fourth Dimension: The Spiritual As mentioned above, Progoff sees the Intensive Journal work in geoeral as "a species of prayer and meditation., in the midst of the actuality of our life experiences." However, he came to appreciate the role of the spiritual dimension in creativity only after he had developed Journal exercises in the three dimensions of life treated briefly above. The specifically spiritual dimension is reflected in his program as the dimension of meaning. The procedures for working in that dimension are called "Process Meditation." In the Intensive Journal program, formal work in this dimension is reserved for those who have already taken part in the "Life Context Workshop," which deals with the three dimensions of life treated above. As Rahner has said, "A basic and original transcendental experience is really rooted [in] a finite spirit's subjective and free experience of itself.''5 The "process" of "Process Meditation" refers to "the principle of conti-nuity in the universe" which is found on three levels: the cosmic, the s6ci-etal, and the personally interior.6 The Intensive Journal method helps the individual relate to "process" on the interior level. The movement of life in the three dimensions treated above is character-istically movement toward personal wholeness and the integration of the individual with oneself. Progoff calls that movement "core creativity." "In terms of individual lives," he writes, "the essence of process in human expe-rience lies in the continuity of its movement toward new integrations, the formation of new holistic units [of life/time].''7 In the spiritual dimension of life the movement is characterized by rela-tionships which transcend the core creativity of the individual. The roots of such relationships--even the personal relationship of the individual to God--are to be found in the stuff of everyday life, but at a deeper than ordi-nary level. Rahner speaks of the knowledge of God as "concrete, original, histori-cally constituted, and transcendental." He further says that such knowledge of God "is inevitably present in the depths of existence in the most ordinary human life.''8 Progoff interprets "meditation" broadly. In his usage it refers to whatev-er methods or practices one uses in the effort to reach out toward meaning. "The essence of meditation," he says, "lies in its intention, in its commit- 508 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 ment to work inwardly to reach into the depths beyond the doctrines of our beliefs.''9 Hence, "Process Meditation" refers to a set of exercises which draw on the individual exercitant's intimations or experiences of connected-ness to the principle of continuity in the universe. Progoff describes his method of Process Meditation as follows: Our basic procedure is to reenter the process by which our individual spiritual history has been moving toward meaning . We reenter that pro-cess so as to reconnect ourselves with the inner principle of its move-ment, and especially so that we can take a further step toward the artwork that is our personal sense of meaning,l° Conclusion In a review of The Practice of Process Meditation, William V. Dych, S.J., translator of Rahner into English, compares what Rahner calls "the uni-versal presence of grace and the Spirit" with Progoff's thesis that "there is in every human being an inner source of new light and life that expresses itself whenever the circumstances are right." Dych views Progoff's thesis as so supportive of Rahner's position that it would be hard to imagine a more pos-itive affirmation of it. ~ NOTES i Karl Rahner, The Practice of Faith: A Handbook of Contemporary Spirituality, ed. Karl Lehmann'and Albert Raffelt (New York: Crossroad, 1984), pp. 94-95. 1 Ira Progoff, The Practice of Process Meditation: The Intensive Journal Way to Spiritual Experience (New York: Dialogue House Library, 1980), p. 18. 3 Rahner, op cit, p. ! 86. 4 Ira Progoff, At a Journal Workshop: The Basic Text and Guide for Using the Intensive Journal (New York: Dialogue House Library, 1975), p. 35. 5 Karl Rahner, Foundations of Christian Faith: An Introduction to the Idea of Christianity, trans. William V. Dych (New York: The Seabury Press, 1978), p. 75. 6 Progoff, The Practice of Process Meditation, p. 40. 7 Ibid, p. 58. 8 Rahner, Foundations of Christian Faith, p. 57. 9 Progoff, The Practice of Process Meditation, p. 34. l0 Ibid, p. 82. II William V. Dych, "The Stream that Feeds the Well Within," Commonweal, 25 September 1981 Our Journey Inward: A Spirituality of Addiction and Recovery Maureen Conroy, R.S.M. Sister Maureen Conroy is co-director of the Upper Room Spiritual Center; EO. Box 1104; Neptune, New Jersey 07753. [~qany of us travel a great deal throughout our lives. With advanced means of transportation, traveling around the state, country, or world has become second nature to us. However, no matter how much or how far we travel, as we journey through life we discover that there is no journey more challeng-ing and scary than the journey inward, the journey to find true happiness and our most authentic self. We search for what is fulfilling and life-giving, but at times our searching takes us down the dark road of addictive behavior. We search for happiness in compulsive ways that deaden us rather than give us life--until we experience a desperate need for help. In this article I reflect on the darkness pervading the addictive process and some ways to journey through the darkness to our truer self. I discuss three aspects of our journey from addiction to recovery--woundedness and wholeness, powerlessness and surrender, and pain and compassion--and describe some dimensions of a spirituality of addiction and recovery related to these three aspects. A Spirituality of Woundedness and Wholeness As human beings God has given us the gifts of strength and freedom; we are called to live in the light. It is also true, however, that we are wounded, weak, vulnerable, broken people. We come from an environment of dark-ness. The brokenness in our ancestry and the dysfunction in our families has influenced our growth as free human beings. We are broken and we are in deep need of healing and redemption. We cannot save ourselves. In our addictive stance we want to avoid our woundedness, ignore our 509 510 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 weakness, and run from our vulnerability. We seek fulfillment through an object, a substance, or a process; that is, we form a pathological relationship with a mood-altering reality in order to find wholeness and happiness. We find it difficult to be honest about the dysfunction in our families and the brokenness in ourselves, so we look for something outside ourselves to keep us from facing our darkness. Spiritual growth and recovery, however, are just the opposite of this avoidance. To grow humanly and spiritually we must journey in and through our woundedness; we must face it head on. We need to feel the messiness of our brokenness and to discover God there. As Psalm 50 says, "a broken and humbled heart, O God, you will not spurn." We must discover that God's heart of love encompasses and holds as precious our wounded hearts, bodies, and spirits. It is through dwelling in our woundedness and vulnerability that we experience our authentic self and that we enable our addictive self to grow less powerful. We come to experience the child within and integrate our dark side with our light side. How do we make this journey in and through our woundedness? We do it by uncovering our addiction layer by layer. By this I mean we allow the walls of denial and layers of dishonesty to reveal themselves; we honestly appraise our unhealthy behaviorL Denial blocks our inner journey. It is a buffer against any reality thatis not acceptable to us, a way to protect our-selves from awareness of realities that are too difficult to face. Spiritual growth happens when we remove layer upon layer of denial that covers over our woundedness and our truer selves. Rather than avoiding our wounds, we need to expose them to the fresh air, to expose our broken hearts to the heal-ing .heart of God, to bring our darkness out into the light of day, to bring hid-den realities out to the light of God's love and the care of others. As Meister Eckhart says, "God is not found in the soul by adding anything, but by a pro-cess of subtraction." So it is through peeling off layer upon layer of denial and dishonesty that we discover God in our brokenness. We discover the original blessing that we are, our deeper and truer selves. We see and feel the aspects of ourselves--minds, hearts, and bodies--that mirror God's pres-ence. We experience the truth of the Genesis story where God says, "Let us make people in our image and likeness." We discover the authentic self that God desires to be fully human and fully alive. Growth in wholeness, therefore, takes place through integrating our dark side with our light side, through accepting our brokenness as we journey through it, by seeing the original blessing that we are. We discover that "darkness and light are the same" (Ps 139:12), that God is present in every dimension of our being. Thus, our woundedness becomes a gift, so rather Our Journey Inward / S'l'l than covering it over with layers of denial, we come to feel at home there because God is there. We discover our truer self underneath the layers of an addictive self. We integrate our wounded and blessed self, our darkness and our light, and we become more and more a whole person. We experience the truth proclaimed by St. Irenaeus: "God's greatest glory is a person fully alive." A Spirituality of Powerlessness and Surrender The journey through addiction to recovery is also one of powerlessness and surrender. God sent Jesus in the flesh to free us from our enslavement to sin and to show us the way t6 live in freedom. It was through Jesus' total surrender to his death on the cross that he experienced new life and showed us the way to true freedom, the freedom of letting go and surrender. In our addictive stance, we are trying to control everyone and everything around us. We grow hardheaded and hardhearted, and we attempt to control the sub-stance or process that we are abusing--alcohol, food, money, sex, work, or an obsessive relationship. We are out of control, and the more we try to con-trol everyone and everything around us, even the substance we are abusing, the more out of control we become. Our addiction is enslaving us to our own self-centered needs and desires. We are "number one" when we are addicted; our addictive needs come bei'ore everyone else. Our addiction enslaves us to an object or process that we think is going to bring us lasting happiness when it is really bringing us misery and isolation. It enslaves us emotionally, spiritually, physically, and socially. The more we try to control the use of our addictive reality, the more we lose con-trol. We deny the basic reality that Paul~ expresses: "The desire to do right is within me, but not the power. What happens is that I do, not the good I will, but the evil I do not intend. But if I do what is against my will, it is not I who do it but sin which dwells in me" (Rm 7~18-20). In our denial we keep think-ing we can choose to keep this substance in right order; however, the rbality is that our will is not working, it is diseased. We are powerless. So how does spiritual growth and recovery happen in relation to our being out of control? It begins when we admit our powerlessness, realize the insanity of thinking that we can control all aspects of our lives and our des-tiny. Spiritual growth happens through the journey of surrender, not control; it begins at the moment of surrender. We need to admit that our ability to choose has become greatly impaired through the disease of our addiction. Our trying to choose not to drink, not to overeat, not to overwork, not to engage in compulsive sexual activity, is just not working. Our willpower simply does not work. As we begin to admit our powerlessness and surrender to God, we find 512 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 new life. When we surrender rather than control, we are choosing life: "I have set before you life and death, a blessing and a curse. Choose life, then, that you may live, by loving the Lord your God, heeding God's voice and holding fast to God. For that will mean life for you" (Dt 30:19-20). As we admit our powerlessness and surrender to God, true power grows within us--the power to love others, the power to experience God's love, and the power to love ourselves. Through our surrender we come more deeply in touch with our authentic self--the self that is alive and not dead, free and not enslaved, joyful and not depressed. True freedom grows--a freedom that heals rather than hurts, that brings about growth rather than destruction, that results in life rather than death. In our surrender we begin to make positive choices for recovery, attend-ing twelve-step meetings and living the twelve-step program. We choose to take responsibility for our lives and our recovery, like the paralyzed man who had lain at the pool of Bethsaida for thirty-eight years until Jesus asked: "Do you want to be healed?" We need to respond to that same question in our addiction because recovery is hard work; it involves a gre.at deal of sacri-fice and responsibility. Also, through our daily admission of powerlessness and constant atti-tude of surrender, we discover God in a new way--a God who supports us in our weakness and strengthens us in time of need, a God who will not leave us even in our most out-of-control moments. We discover in Jesus a God " who has experienced weakness and powerlessness, a God who has stood totally stripped and poor, a God who invites us to have the attitude of a vul-nerable child rather than a controlling adult: "Unless you become like a little child, you shall not enter the kingdom of God." We experience a God whose power takes over in our weakness, as St. Paul discovered through his strug-gle: "Three times [which means numerous times] I begged the Lord that this might leave me. God said to me, 'My grace is enough for you, for in weak-ness power reaches perfection.' " It was through constantly admitting his powerlessness that Paul's spiritual growth and recovery took place. So he says: "I willingly boast of my weaknesses instead, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I am content with weakness., for when I am powerless it is then that I am strong" (2 Co 12:8-10). Thus, through admit-ting our powerlessness over an object of addiction and surrend.ering to God our weakness, we experience the power of God, the love of God, new life, renewed freedom. We move forward on the journey ,of recovery. A Spirituality of Pain and Compassion Finally, the journey through addiction to recovery is one of pain and Our Journey Inward / ~313 compassion. One of the hard facts of life is that suffering is an integral part of it. Jesus himself had to suffer great pain in order to bring new life. Our God is not a distant God but a compassionate God who experienced great pain, the pain of loving us. In our addictive stance, we deal with pain in an unhealthy way. We want to run from it, cover it over, deny it. We are caught in a "Catch 22" situation because, in using a substance to avoid our pain, we are really in great pain-- the pain of loneliness, isolation, and alienation from our true self and from healthy relationships with others. As our addiction progresses, it becomes increasingly painful to maintain our denial. We are overcome by the pain of shame and self-disgust. Spiritual growth and recovery take place when we face that pain, feeling it, looking at it square in the face, rather than avoiding it by abusing a sub-stance. As our walls of denial break down, we begin to feel the pain we have been covering up--the pain of living, the pain of loss, the pain of being human, the pain of developing intimate relationships, the pain of childhood neglect and abuse. We find out that healing involves pain, as in the case of lepers. Leprosy causes numbness. When Jesus healed the leper, he invited him to feel pain in the areas of previous nrmbness. The same is true of the leprosy of our addiction: as we begin to let down the walls of denial, we begin to feel pain. We realize that recovery and healing are not easy. As we journey through deeper levels of pain in our recovery, we discover a God who knows what it is to suffer. As Meister Eckhart says: "Jesus becam~ a human being because God, the Compassionate One, lacked a back to be beaten. God needed a back like our backs on which to receive blows and therefore to perform compassion as well as to preach it." Our compassionate God became a suffering God. Our God feels with us, suffers with us. Again, Eckhart says, "However great one's suffering is, if it comes through God, God suffers from it first." What a gift we have in a God who suffers with us! As we experience this tremendous love of a compassionate God, we become people of compassion, persons who can feel with others in their bro-kenness. We become more vulnerable and grow toward greater wholeness because love is the greatest healer. As our walls of denial are penetrated with God's compassionate love and we become more vulnerable, we can be with people in their brokenness. That is one of the beautiful realities of the twelve-step program: it is a group of people who are in touch with their bro-kenness and therefore have great compassion for those who are struggling. They live out these words of McNeill, Morrison, and Nouwen: "Compassion asks us to go where it hurts, to enter into places of pain, to share in broken-ness, fear, confusion, and anguish. Compassion challenges us to cry out with 514 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 those in misery, to mourn with those who are lonely, to weep with those in tears. Compassion requires us to be weak with the weak, vulnerable with the vulnerable, and powerless with the powerless. Compassion means full immersion in the condition of being human" (Compassion, p. 4). As we feel the pain that our addiction has tried to cover, we become wounded healers--people who minister out of our woundedness as well as our strength. "What you have received as a gift. give as a gift" (Mt 10:8). Our pain becomes a gift that we can give to other addicted people as we compas-sionately help them to face the devastation of their addictive behaviors. In sum, our inward journey involves walking down the dark paths of our brokenness into the light of God's presence and our authentic self. A spiritu-ality of addiction and recovery must include two sides of reality: awareness of our woundedness, powerlessness, and pain as well as growth in wholeness, surrender, and compassion. Without a vivid sense of the depths of our bro-kenness in our addicted self, we cannot move toward the wholeness of our authentic self. Without a keen awareness of our darkness, we are blind to the light of God's healing presence. Without an acute sense of our vulnerability, we cannot become compassionate healers who stand with others in their pain. Though scary and challenging, our journey through our own darkness will lead us to the light of true happiness, deeper fulfillment, and new life. Awareness Examen for Recovering People In God's presence, take ten to fifteen minutes to prayerfully reflect on your day. Contemplate your day together--you and God. Prayer of Thanksgiving I thank God for the gift of this day, the gift of my sobriety, the gift of my recovery. I thank God for specific git~s of life that come to mind, such as my health, my family, my community, my friends, my job, my twelve-step program. I thank God for gifts of my inner life, such as the ability to feel and think, energizing feelings I had during the day (name them), specific values and beliefs that guided my actions, ways I used my thinking and imagination for growth, positive choices for recovery which I made today, God's life within me. I thank God for two or three concrete life gifts and inner gifts that I am particularly aware of and grateful for today. Prayer for Light I humbly ask God to help me see myself and my life today as God sees Our Journey Inward them. I ask God to remove blindness and denial from my mind and heart. I ask God for the gift of honesty with myself and God. I ask God for a dis-ceming heart and a truthful mind. Prayer of Awareness God and I contemplate my life, my heart, and my thinking this day from the moment I woke up until now. What specific feelings did I feel today? When did I feel most alive today? most my true self?, most joyful? most peaceful? most in tune with my deeper self?. How did I feel God's presence today? What was that feeling like? What was God like? At what moment did I feel God's presence the strongest? When did I feel powerless today? out of control? enslaved? unfree? What was I powerless over? Did I surrender that reality to God? When did I feel vulnerable today? When did I feel pain today? What was the pain about? Did I share that painful feeling with God or another? With whom have I been most honest today? myself?, another? God? What was I honest about? How did I struggle with honesty today? With what issue or feeling? ' What were my feelings underneath the struggle? fear? anger? guilt? Which of the twelve steps was my strength today? How did I live it, carry it out, in a practical way? In what concrete ways did I strive to improve my conscious contact with God? What choices did I make for my recovery today? How do I feel about those choices? When did I feel compassion for another person today? How did I reach out to others today? show concem and care? make amends? Prayer of Amends I ask God to forgive any specific wrongdoings of today. I ask God to have mercy on any negative attitudes or feelings that I got stuck in today. Prayer of Surrender I surrender all to God: my life, my will, my brokenness, my addictions, my imagination, my thoughts, my feelings. I surrender to God specific attitudes, feelings, thoughts, actions over which I felt powerless today. I ask God's strength to take over in my specific weaknesses. I ask God's power to be present in the specific areas in which I feel helpless and powerless. 516 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 O God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Take, O Lord, and receive my liberty, my memory, my understanding, my entire will, all that I have and possess. You have given all to me. To you, O God, I return it. All is yours, dispose of it wholly according to your will. Give me your love and your grace, for this is sufficient for me. (Prayer from the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius) RECOMMENDED READING Larsen, Eamie. Stage H Recovery: Life Beyond Addiction. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1985. May, Gerald. Addiction and Grace. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1988. McNeill, Donald; Morrison, Douglas; and Nouwen, Henri. Compassion. New York: Doubleday & Co., 1966. Nakken, Craig. The Addictive Personality: Roots, Rituals, Recovery. Center City, Minn.: Hazelden, 1988. Whitfield, Charles L. Healing the Child Within. Pompano Beach, Florida: Health Communications, 1987. A Gift to Share The Jesuit Heritage Today "Ignatian prayer puts the history of salvation into the present tense." --Walter Burghardt, S.J. A Spirituality for Contemporary Life ¯ presents six stimulating reflections on the Jesuit heritage today. Theologians Walter IBurghardt, David Fleming, Monika Hellwig, Jon Sobrino, ElizabethJohnson, andJohn Padberg speak about living with God in ordinary life. ISBN 0-924768-02-9 112 pages List Price $5.95 A Resource to Keep See Order Form Inside Back Cover for Special Offer for Readers of Review for Religious Apostolic Spirituality: Aware We Are Sent James H. Kroeger, M.M. Father James Kroeger last appeared in our pages in May/June 1988. He has a doctor-ate in missiology from the Gregorian University and has published five books. His address: Maryknoll Fathers; EO. Box 285; Greenhills Post Office; 1502 Metro Manila; Philippines. Adequately capturing realities in the spiritual life always demands the use of dynamic, expansive language. For this reason, spirituality is frequently described in relational categories--between a Christian and a personal God, between the servant-herald and the crucified and risen Lord. Such a relation-ship of intimacy is at the heart of biblical spirituality: "I will be your God and you shall be my people"; Christians are Jesus' friends and call their heavenly Father "Abba." Spirituality may also variously be described as growth, an evolution toward maturity, a pilgrimage. Each category presents an authentic, albeit partial, grasp of the human-divine dynamic operative in our lives. In this article, "consciousness" or "awareness" is the category for our insight into spirituality, and it naturally overflows with an apostolic or missionary dynamism. Consciousness: A Window into Spirituality Consciousness may seem to be an elusive concept, yet no one would deny the reality. An individual is in a conscious state when perceptual and cognitive faculties function normally. One continuously synthesizes various stimuli from within and from without; ideally, the result is a healthy personal integration. Notice that many constitutive elements are included in consciousness: seeing, hearing, feeling, thinking, desiring, experiencing. Consciousness incorporates perceptions, emotions, observations, thoughts, aspirations, 517 5"11~ / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 choices. It also includes an introspective awareness of the personal impact of all events and experience. In light of this brief and rudimentary description of the phenomenon of human consciousness, one may begin to elaborate the relationship between consciousness and a spirituality of the apostolate. Our service--all focused on raising our God-consciousness and expanding the horizons of our spiritu-al awareness. We want to use our eyes to see perceptively and our ears to hear attentively; we hope to gain deepened insight into our lives through faith's mirror (Jm 1:22-25). In another vein, a look at the venerable Eastern traditions of many Asian nations reveals that the man of God or the God-conscious, God-focused per-son is essentially a seer, sage, or mystic. Such a person "sees" and experi-ences God; God is not an object of knowledge, but a subject of experience. To grow in holistic spirituality is concomitant with an experiential awareness and consciousness of God's presence and activity in all dimensions of one's life (Arguelles, 50-51). The beautiful prayer in the Upanishads, one of the Hindu sacred books, expresses the aspiration and spiritual desire to come to this deeper conscious union with the divine. In Sanskrit and English it is: Asato ma satgamaya Tamaso ma jyotir gamaya Mrutyu ma amrutam gamaya. God, lead me from untruth to truth Lead me from darkness to light Lead me from death to immortality. Thomas Merton, the Trappist monk and spiritual writer (1915-1968), has enabled countless people to gain insights into their spirituality. Merton inti-mately links spirituality and prayer with the transformation of conscious-ness. He sees that a renewed conscious awareness underlies all spiritual growth; Christians must cease to assert themselves as the center of con-sciousness and discover God's presence as the deepest center of conscious-ness within them. Thus, as their self-consciousness changes, they are transformed; their self is no longer its own center, it is now centered on God. It is important to note that for Merton no one will ever be capable of communion with God and others without ttiis deep awakening, this transfor-mation of consciousness. Such transformative growth "consists in a double movement, man's entering into the deepest center of himself, and then, after passing through that center, going out of himself to God" (Higgins, 49). Merton asserts that, unless our spirituality or prayer "does something to awaken in us a consciousness of our union with God, of our complete depen- Apostolic Spirituality / 5'19 dence upon him for all our vital acts in the spiritual life, and of his constant loving presence in the depths of our soul, it has not achieved the full effect for which it is intended" (Merton-A, 67). In today's world, "What is required of Christians is that they develop a completely modern and contemporary consciousness in which their experience as men of our century is integrated with their experiences as children of God redeemed by Christ" (Merton-B, 279). The renowned Indian theologian D.S. Amalorpavadass has written elo-quently on the role of consciousness or awareness in attaining spiritual inte-gration and interiorization: "If wholeness is a state of being at which one should finally arrive in stages, awareness is the running thread and unifying force. Awareness needs to flow like a river, like a blood-stream . Awareness is also the core of spirituality and God-experience." He repeats: "Awareness or consciousness should flow through the various actions of our life. One should maintain awareness in all that one does. It should serve as a running thread and connecting bond., through the various activities of our day, and the different periods and stages of our life, in an uninterrupted and continuous flow. This flow will make our whole life a continuous prayer and a state of contemplation" (Amalorpavadass, 4, 24). Brief glimpses of Scripture, Eastern traditions, a Trappist monk, and a contemporary theologian have shown that "consciousness" helps one grasp the human-divine dynamic operative in the Christian life. Within this catego-ry- which is foundational--a vibrant spirituality and a concomitant mis-sionary dynamism can flourish. And, in a Marian spirit, Christians who are missionary will grow ever more conscious of the marvelous deeds that God is accomplishing in us, our neighbors, our society, our Church, and the entire world. The Consciousness of Paul the Missionary The New Testament describes Paul's radical awareness of God's active presence in his life. Though not naturally prone to humility, Paul admits that he was knocked to the/~round; in Damascus "something like scales fell from his eyes," By grace h~ perceived that he was the chosen instrument to bring Good News to the Gentiles and that he would accomplish his mission only with hardship and suffering (Ac 9). Paul's consciousness of his apostolic calling was certainly at the basis of his extraordinary missionary journeys. Without a vivid perception and faith commitment, no one would willingly endure the challenges Paul faced. Such endurance would be foolishness. Yet Paul is never willing, even momentari-ly, to minimize his authority and commitment as an apostle; the introductory 520 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 verses of many of his letters are clear evidence of this. Paul's conversion was no superficial or passing phenomenon. It penetrated the core of his person and totally transformed his way of thinking and acting--his consciousness. Further investigation into Pauline theology and spirituality reveals the depth of his convictions. Paul is absolutely certain that God has a wonderful, marvelous, loving plan of salvation for the entire world (note his frequent use of the words mysterion and oikonomia). His letter to the Ephesians con-vincingly, almost mystically, explains how "God has given us the wisdom to understand fully the mystery,'~ "the mysterious design which for ages was hidden in God." Pauline reflection on God's loving plan of salvation (mysterion) synthe-sizes his belief that this design has been fully revealed in Christ and will be recapitulated in Christ at the end of time. This manifestation is focused on salvation, not condemnation or judgment, and is open to all peoples. It unfolds in stages: God, Jesus, Spirit, Church, world. Humanity's response is faith or personal appropriation of the mysterion (Fitzmyer, 807-808). A recent scholarly investigation (Plevnik, 477-478) has concluded that "Any center of Pauline theology must therefore include all these components of the apostle's gospel, his understanding of Christ, involving the Easter event and its implications, the present lordship, the future coming of Christ, and the appropriation of salvation. The center is thus not any single aspect of Christ, or of God's action through Christ, but rather the whole and undivided richness and mystery of Christ and of the Father's saving purpose through his Son" (mysterion). Mystery, in one word, captures the Christian message. Paul is the missionary par excellence because he believed, lived, prayed, served, reflected, witnessed, preached, and suffered so that God's mysterion would be known, extended, loved, and freely received. Obviously, Paul's missionary consciousness had the "mysterion encounter" as its central focus and driving force. Paul's self-awareness as an apostle was rooted in being chosen as a ser-vant and minister of God's loving plan of salvation. It might be asserted that the mysterion engulfed and consumed Paul; his consciousness was so trans-formed that he could assert that Christ lived in him, that fellow Christians could imitate him, that life or death no longer mattered, and that he gloried in giving his life for Christ. In a word, the mysterion is foundational to Paul's missionary identity and consciousness. Mission and Mysterion Consciousness The Second Vatican Council in its decree on the missionary activity of the Church places mission and evangelization at the center of the Church-- Apostolic Spirituality / 52'1 not allowing this task to float somewhere on the periphery: "The pilgrim Church is missionary by her very nature" (AG, 2). Pope Paul VI continues in the same vein: "We wish to confirm once more that the task of evangelizing all peoples constitutes the essential mission of the Church . Evangelizing is in fact the grace and vocation proper to the Church, her deepest identity. She exists in order to evangelize." (EN, 14). To evangelize--what meaning does this imperative have for the Church? It is to be no less than the living proclamation of the mysterion, God's loving design of universal salvation. As the community of Jesus' disciples, the Church realizes her "deepest identity" and "her very nature" when she ful-fills her mission of evangelization. She is to be always and everywhere "the universal sacrament of salvation" (LG, 48; AG, 1). For her, to live is to evangelize. In contemporary terms, the Church accomplishes her "self-realization" or "self-actualization" through mission and evangelization. She is only authentic and true to herself when she is announcing and witnessing the mys-terion. A nonmissionary Church is impossible; it is self-contradictory. The great missionary pope Paul VI writes that the Church "is linked to evange-lization in her most intimate being" (EN, 15); mission is not "an optional contribution for the Church" (EN, 5). In addition, the Church's missionary identity is not a late afterthought of the risen Jesus--though this outlook may seem true today of some Christians and local churches. Animation and rededication are necessary because Christians "are faithful to the nature of the Church to the degree that we love and sincerely promote her missionary activity" (EE, 2). These few paragraphs may invite the comment "I have heard it all before." True, yet all of us often hear without hearing, see without seeing, and listen without comprehending. It is precisely at this juncture that conscious-ness is poignantly relevant. Many Christians do not deny the missionary nature of the Church, but their level of conscious awareness is weak or mini-mal. This fact is unfortunately true even of many full-time Church personnel. The intention here is not to berate or castigate individuals. Rather, it is a stark statement of the need for "consciousness-raising"; it is a call for Christians to expand and deepen their awareness; all urgently need "conscientization-into-mission." In short, the entire Church herself must experience a profound reevangelization in order to become a truly evangelizing community. Recall the themes presented earlier on the centrality of consciousness in Christian life and spirituality. They seem particularly relevant as the Church struggles with her fundamental missionary identity. Is not this a central burn-ing question in the Church today: What has happened to her mission con- 522 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 sciousness--where is its urgency and dynamism--where are the contempo-rary St. Pauls? A rephrasing in mission terms of earlier quotes on consciousness from Amalorpavadass may prove enlightening. Church-as-mission is "the running thread and unifying force"; it "needs to flow like a river, like a blood-stream"; it is at "the core of spirituality and God-experience"; ira"will make our whole life a continuous prayer and state of contemplation." Trinitarian Basis of Mission Consciousness and Spirituality In the same breath that the Vatican Council spoke of the Church's mis-sionary identity, it presented the foundational rationale of mission. In a word, the why of Church-as-mission is Trinitarian, "for it is from the mission of the Son and the mission of the Holy Spirit that she takes her origin, in accordance with the decree of God the Father" (AG, 2). This mission vision, expressed in Trinitarian language, must not frighten or intimidate readers. Do not say, "I do not understand Trinitarian theology, so I cannot grasp this." While a bit difficult and challenging, this insight is also beautiful and rewarding. It transports us to the heart of mission; it flows from the core of our faith in the Trinity; it greatly enhances our mission con-sciousness and spirituality. The most inviting manner to appreciate mission--via the Trinity--is to remember that it is an eminently personal approach. The Father is a person, his son Jesus is a person, their girl of the Spirit is also a person. This is only a statement of a basic dogma of the faith. Grasping the immanence and closeness of the three Persons appears far more fruitful than grappling with the incomprehensibility of the transcendent Trinity (Billy, 602-611). Growth in conscious awareness, experience, and encounter with each of the three Persons richly broadens our vision of mission. It also manifests that mission theology and spirituality draw from the same wellspring. An appre-ciation of the roles of the Father, the Son, and the Spirit in mission produces an integrated missiology, incorporating "Abba" theology, Christology, and pneumatology. The result will certainly be a more holistic theology and spir-ituality of mission. Finally, it is the conviction of this author that such an approach relieves some current tensions and answers some questions in mission. For example, debates centered on interreligious dialogue with the living faith traditions of the world can probably be better resolved more from a pneumatological approach than from only a Christological one. Therefore, if mission theology and spirituality are an integrated endeavor, the deepened consciousness will provide insights for both theoretical and practical questions. Apostolic Spirituality / 523 Our attention now tums to the roles of Father, Son, and Spirit in mis-sion. How does each person of the Trinity send and accompany us into mis-sion? Recall the title of this presentation, which links mission and spirituality with a consciousness of being sent. The Role of the Father The Father is presented in Scripture as the harvest master and vineyard owner. Mission, therefore, originates with the Father; mission is God's pro-ject. The Father determines its parameters. Already this awareness places the Church and her evangelizers in an auxiliary, servant role. Vatican II clearly set aside triumphalistic ecclesiology as well as any simplistic identification of the Church and the Kingdom of God. As servant of the kingdom or laborer in the vineyard, the Church is to be "the kingdom of Christ now present in mystery" and the "the initial budding forth of that kingdom" (LG, 3, 5). In addition, the Council, situating the Church within the larger framework of God's design of salvation (mysterion), entitled its first chapter of the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church "The Mystery of the Church." The Church and all missioners must radically see themselves serving the mysterion "according to the will of God the Father" (AG, 2). The Father desires generous cooperators and humble workers for the harvest. He freely chooses them and they are to belong to him (Lk 6:13; Mk 3:13-16; Jn 15:15-16). These passages remind evangelizers that all mission is a sending (missio/mittere), originating in the Father; their vocation is God's gratuitous gift. Missioners do not send themselves; mission cannot be defined in legal terms; all must be according to the Father's gracious design. Affirming mission, therefore, as a gratuitous gift in the Father's gracious vision, emphasizes the centrality of grace. Thus, missioners understand, as the country priest in Bernanos' novel says on his deathbed, in all vocations "Grace is everywhere" (Bernanos, 233). Trinitarian mission is always soteriological; its purpose is liberation and salvation. The Father has no other goal, as Paul clearly reminded Timothy: He "wants all to be saved and come to know the truth." Condemnation or rejection are inconsistent with the Father's design (Jn 3:16-17; Mt 18:14). The Father, overwhelmingly "rich in mercy" (Ep 2:4), extends his great love to everyone, as the universalism of both Luke and Paul make clear. All evangelizers have experienced "the kindness and love of God" (Tt 3:4); it is out of their deep consciousness of the Father's personal graciousness that they journey to all places, peoples, and cultures. They are aware that they have received all as girl, and they desire to give all with the same generosity (Mt 10:8). Any missioner would relish being described as "rich in mercy." 594 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 The Father cannot be surpassed in his kindness and generosity (Jm 1:5, 17); his mercy is made concrete and visible when he sends Jesus, his Son. This is definitely a new mode of God's presence with his people; it is love in personal form. This unfolding of the mysterion far surpasses previous mani-festations of Yahweh's presence to his people Israel (Heb 1:1-2). Missioners strive to be continuations of the love of God manifested personally in Jesus, and this approach brings transformation and deepened consciousness. Our discussion of the Father's role in mission carries us back to the heart of the Trinity: God is love (1 Jn 4:8), and all manifestations flow from this identity. No less than the inner life of the Trinity is founded on the dynamism of divine love. Thus, the mysterion necessarily is a loving design since it arises "from that 'fountain of love' or charity (fontalis amor) within God the Father" (AG, 2). It is imperative that missioners and evangelizers become mystics like John the Evangelist (see 1 Jn 4:7-21); nothing less can explain the love of God for a fallen world and rebellious humanity. No other motivation is ade-quate to the missionary calling--of the entire Church. Mother Teresa of Calcutta has named her congregation the Missionaries of Charity, and she never tires, of reminding her audiences that this is the fundamental vocation of all Christians. It sounds fantastic, but it is true: The love of the Trinity is personally poured into our hearts and it transforms all evangelizers into mis-sionary messengers of God's limitless love. Knowing our personal God as the font of love is the highest level of consciousness possible. Mission spiri-tuality becomes a conscious centering on Trinitarian love. This is the solid missiology-become-spirituality promoted by Vatican II. The Mission of the Son Jesus declares openly that he has been sent by his loving Father; the phrase "the Father who sent me" occurs forty-six times in the Gospel of John. And a salvific thrust is evident in the missioning of Jesus by his Father. Vatican II expresses Jesus' missioning as a reconciling presence "to establish peace or communion between sinful human beings and himself . Jesus Christ was sent into the world as a real mediator between God and men" (AG, 3). In Paul's theology, mediation and reconciliation are vital ele-ments of the mysterion (2 Co 5:19; Col 1:13; Rm 5:1)~ Jesus' continuing "Abba experience" (Kavunkal, 9-15), enabling him to faithfully accomplish his mission, has several dimensions: his coming or proceeding from the Father (noted above), his remaining with the Father (Jn 10:38; 16:32), and his eventual return to the Father (Jn 16:5; 7:33; 13:36). This means that Jesus fulfills his mission in light of a particular conscious- Apostolic Spirituality / 525 ness: continual intimacy with his Father. Luke tells us that, before making such a decisive move in his ministry as the choice of the Twelve, Jesus "went out to the mountains to pray, spending the night in communion with God" (Lk 6:12). Mission in the Jesus mode has its source, continuation, and fulfill-ment in the Abba experience. This dimension of Jesus' living of his mission provides evangelizers an inviting model for their own mission consciousness. In its holistic vision of God's design for salvation, the Council sees the Church as continuing, developing, and unfolding "the mission of Christ him-self" (AG, 5). The apostolic exhortation Evangelii Nuntiandi (13-16, 59-60) and the pastoral statement on world mission of the United States Bishops To the Ends of the Earth (25-27) also confirm mission as an ecclesial act in fidelity to Jesus. Contemporary evangelizers, cognizant of the Jesus-Church continuity, seek to live and witness as the community of Jesus' followers. They recall his promises (Mt 16:18; 28:20), but readily admit they are fragile "earthen vessels." They faithfully accept that "Christ in his mission from the Father is the fountain and source of the whole apostolate of the Church" (AA, 4). A missioner's model is "sentire cum ecclesia'" (feel and think with the Church), frankly admitting that one is "simuljustus et peccator" (concomi-tantly both upright and sinful). Who among Jesus' followers does not need a deeper consciousness of these realities? Central to the mission of Jesus is the mystery of the Incarnation: "The Son of God walked the ways of a true incarnation that he might make men sharers in the divine nature" (AG, 3). This radical identification of our broth-er Jesus with us mortals (Heb 4:15) makes us rich out of his poverty (2 Co 8:9). He became a servant (Mk 10:45) and gave his life "as a ransom for the many--that is, for all" (AG, 3). Consistently, Church Fathers .of both East and West have held that "what was not taken up [assumed] by Christ was not healed" (Abbott, 587, note 9). Thus, when Jesus took to himself our entire humanity, he healed, renewed, and saved us. In brief, incarnation is the fundamental pattern of all mission. Today evangelizers are deeply conscious of the ramifications of mission as incarnation. No missioner worthy of the name underestimates the impor-tance of indigenization and inculturation; they develop a spirituality of "depth identification," becoming as vulnerable as Jesus was in his humanity. This same pattern is the model of growth and development of all local churches (AG, 22). While it is certain that the mission of Jesus is initiated at the Incarnation, his baptism by John in the Jordan is an act of public commitment and conse-cration to mission. Jesus pursues his ministry; though it will encounter grow- 526 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 ing opposition and lead to the human disaster of Calvary, he will not betray his commitment. Note that Matthew, Mark, and Luke all juxtapose Jesus' baptism and the triple temptation in the wilderness. The tactic of Satan is to subvert Jesus with possessions, pride, and power; at the core, all Satan's promises tempt Jesus to renege on his dedication to mission. The more conscious an evange-lizer becomes of the struggle involved in mission faithfulness, the closer he will be drawn to Jesus. "who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin." The missioner will constantly and with confidence "approach the throne of grace to receive mercy and favor and to find help in time of need" (Heb 4:15-16). Instructive for the Church and her evangelizers is an appreciation of the continual action of the Spirit in the life of Jesus. The creed affirms that he was conceived "by the power of the Holy Spirit." The same Spirit descends on Jesus at the moment of his baptism (Mt 3:17); he is led by the Spirit to the desert (Mt 4:1); he returns to Galilee in the power of the Spirit (Lk 4:14); he begins his preaching mission at Nazareth asserting that "the Spirit of the Lord is upon me" (Lk 4:18). As Jesus was empowered by the Spirit, he sends forth his own disciples saying: "Receive the Holy Spirit" (Jn 20:22). Peter (Ac 4:8), Paul (Ac 9:17), Stephen (Ac 6:5; 7:55), and those who listened to their preaching (Ac 10:44) were all filled with the Spirit. In fact, the entire nascent Church brims with the Spirit's presence (Ac 2:4), and thus the community increases while it enjoys the consolation of the befriending Spirit (Ac 9:31). Jesus, his disci-ples, and likew.ise today's evangelizers all are in mission through the mar-velous action of the Spirit (Kroeger-A, 3- 12). Concretely in the practical order, Jesus carries out his mission through evangelization--proclaimiog the GoodNews of the Kingdom. The first words that Mark places on Jesus' lips are centered on this very theme (Mk 1"15). Luke also portrays Jesus' mission as focused on glad tidings to the "little ones of this world" (Lk 4:18-19). As Paul VI has noted, this theme "sums up the whole mission of Jesus" (EN, 6). Jesus could not be impeded in his ministry: "I must announce the good news of the reign of God, because that is why I was sent" (Lk 4:43). Contemporary evangelizers, reflecting on the urgency and scope of Jesus' kingdom proclamation, will find themselves imitating Jesus' ministry as he lived it in silence, in action, in dialogue, in teaching, and in prayer. Yes, the Good News of the Kingdom for Jesus means an integral, holistic approach to evangelization--because all dimensions of the total gospel are expressions of his enduring love (Jn 13:1). Apostolic Spirituality / 527 Jesus' entire life, from the Incarnation to the Ascension, was a procla-mation. All he said and did were a testimony to the Father's loving design (Jn 3:31-35; 7:16; 8:38; 14:24). Jesus existed on nothing else; his "suste-nance/ food/meat" was to do the will and work of the one who sent him (Jn 4:34). In everything Jesus was faithful to the Father. Reflective, insightful evangelizers interiorize the fidelity mind-set of Jesus (Ph 2:5); they also imitate St. Paul in his concern for faithful transmis-sion of the message of Jesus preserved by the Church (1 Co 15:3, 11). In prayer and meditation missioners refocus themselves on Jesus and his king-dom, and often this demands setting aside personal opinions and ambitions. Mother Teresa of Calcutta notes that Jesus does not always call us to be suc-cessful, but he always invites us to be faithful. This fidelity to Jesus and his message should not be interpreted in too narrow a sense. As announcers of Good News, we consciously interiorize Jesus' gospel values; however, we seek to transmit them to humanity in all its cultural, social, religious, and politico-economic diversity. Certainly, this is a fantastic challenge; it is central to contemporary evangelization. Paul VI expressed it wisely and poignantly: "This fidelity both to a message whose servants we are and to the people to whom we must transmit it living and intact is central axis of evangelization" (EN, 4). Lifestyle is key in any vision of evangelization. For our contemporaries, who willingly listen only to witnesses (not theoreticians), the missioner's authenticity and transparency are generally the first elements in evangeliza-tion; wordless witness is already a silent, powerful, and effective proclama-tion. It is an initial act of evangelization (EN, 21, 41). Jesus himself adopted a particular, concrete lifestyle. His mind-set was fidelity and obedience to his Father; his outward manner manifested the lived values of poverty, total dedication, persecution, apparent failure. The Church and her evangelizers "must walk the same road which Christ walked, a road of poverty and obedience, of service and self-sacrifice to the death" (AG, 5). Bluntly, there is no authentic Christian mission without the cross and all its surprises, foolishness, and scandal (1 Co 1:18-25). True mission is always signed by the cross, and without it we cannot be Jesus' disciples. The evan-gelizer is always generous in bearing a personal share of the hardships which the gospel entails (2 Tm 1:8). Constantly the Christian disciple is measuring his life and apostolate against the lifestyle of Jesus and the patterns of the gospel. Sustained prayerful reflection and an ever deepening consciousness of one's personal relationship with the Trinity are the unique way of interior-izing the paradox of the cross and the power of the resurrection. 528 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 An anonymous poet, speaking of the centrality of the Incarnation and Redemption in Christianity, noted that there are no definitions in God's dic-tionary for these terms. One must search for the meaning of Bethlehem and Calvary under another category. Their significance is to be found only when one reads how God defines love. Indeed, God's loving plan of salvation is a message of hope for all peo-ples. It is universal and should be preached and witnessed "to the ends of the earth." To spread this universal message demands great dedication and faith, as seen in the practical advice that Paul gave to Timothy (2 Tm 4:1-5). The evangelizer, conscious of his role in the actualization of the mysteri-on, will surrender enthusiastically to the invitation of Jesus: Come and fol-low me in my mission. This conscious surrender will open his eyes to perceive, not so much what his efforts are accomplishing, but how Father, Son, and Spirit are working fruitfully in and through his life. With this vision, contemplation and actibn harmoniously blend and sustain one anoth-er; the evangelizer experiences living the mysterion. Eventually, all will be recapitulated in Christ and God will be

Issue 46.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1987. ; REVIEW FO, RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO. 63108-3393. REWEW FOg RELiGiOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. ©1987 by REVIEW FOg RELiGiOUS. Single copies $2.50. Subscriptions: U.S.A. $11.00 a year; $20.00 for two years. Other countries: add $4.00 per year (surface mail); airmail (Book Rate): $18.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: Rv.vlv.w FOR REI.I(;IOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F.X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors May/June, 1987 Volume 46 Number 3 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOIl REI.I~;IOtlS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW fOR REI.I~:IOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassgtte recordings as a service for the visu-ally impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. Mary and Our Reconciliation in Christ Donald Macdonald, S.M.M. Father Macdonald has written yet another thoughtful and fruitful article on Mary our Mother. His last article on Mary was "Our Lady of Wisdom" (May/June, 1986). His last article in our pages was "Invisibly Companioned" (January/February, 1987). Father Macdonald still resides at: St. Joseph's; Wellington Road; Todmorden, Lanc.: 0LI4 5HP England. It is puzzling to read from time to time that,- seemingly, the appeal of Our Lady is chiefly psychological rather than personal. So, for example, "Mary .has been a very popular image for both women and men . Men still Often seem to derive a great deal from the image of Mary, perhaps cel-ibate men. in particular, since Mary as mother provides a safe, that is, sex-ually taboo womanly image.''~ Is her appeal then in what she represents rather than who she is? Is she a popular image or a popular person? Every individual suggests more than herself, of course, but in the living of the everyday Catholic this emphasis on "the image of Mary" seems sadly unreal. There is a world of difference between admiring her icon at an exhibition and taking her into our home in faith and love. Insofar as she is seen primarily as a psychological refuge she is no longer the mother of Jesus as the Gospel reflects her. It was no image but someone authentically human who "gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swad-dling clothes, and laid him in a manger because there was no room for them in the inn" (Lk 2:7). A male religious might be forgiven instinctive irritation as he feels him-self being patronized. More to the point, being particularly singled out as finding Our Lady a safety valve seems to contradictexperience. Is it true? The experience of an adult lifetime spent in pastoral ministry at the grass roots could more plausibly make a case for the attraction Our Lady has for the married woman or the professional man. In thinking of those with an 321 322 / Review for Religious, Ma.y--June, 1987 enviably marked and integrated devotion to Our Lady, the male celibate, while there, is by no means primary. Mary means so much to so many, far beyond the few who, it is suggested, see in her particularly a safe, sex-ually taboo womanly image. A lifetime could be spent in a Catholic com-munity without ever meeting many of that particular group, though one would certainly find genuine devotion to Our Lady. Too, contemporary novelists and journalists notwithstanding, genuine devotion to her from the male celibate has surely stronger ties than sexual security. It is a Catholic thing, not a psychological need. It is of the faith. Again, does everyday devotion to Our Lady really express itself like that? Is it mainly a popular image useful for meeting a psychological need? Whether it be the assembly line, down-market product of "repository art,'" or-the faith-aesthetic creation of a Giotto, the Christian can distinguish between the person and the product. The picture or image can focus atten, tion, and there are psychological overtones in every glimpse of Our Lady, since every individual carries more meaning than he or she knows. Mary may transform whomever and whatever she is introduced to in the context of Christian devotion. She creates her own climate in the generations con-sidering her ,blessed among women. Yet traditionally and individually within the Church, the person of Mary is known and loved beyond all that art, theory and culture might suggest. Faith and the feminine are lovely, life-enhancing qualities. To speculate about them may have some point, but cannot be compared to seeing them in a particular woman. Here lies Our Lady's appeal. Her union with her Son as the Gospel reveals this, and her oneness with us in our humanity and faith are definitive. Many talented peop!e can perhaps paint an icon, but only the specially prepared, it is said, may paint its eyes. Insight is a gift. The scientist and man of contemporary culture who considers the cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris exclusively in terms of its construction has literally not seen it. In ignoring God and her whose name it was given, he has lost the key which would unlock its meaning. This is much more than simply discarding a relative culture. The contemporary Catholic, attracted by the appeal of Our Lady, might say of her what the medieval mystic said of being gripped by the desire for contemplation: "You would run a thousand miles to talk about it with someone you know has really experienced it, and yet when you get there you can find nothing to say. ''-~ One need not be able to articulate what one knows. The common tongue of Lourdes~ Fatima, Banneux and "down-town anywhere," as far as Our Lady is concerned, is faith working through Mary and Our Reconciliation / 393 love. With the mother of the Word made flesh dwelling among us, we are in touch with someone rooted in humanity and faith. ,.- This, then, is why devotion to Our Lady in Catholic tradition is not something subjective, as a liking for sugar, but an objective reality whether we advert to it or not. It is not an arcane secret given to some esoteric group inhabiting an ethereal heaven. It cannot be when so many Christians' first real introduction to Mary is often in the world of the Christmas carol, where "earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone . " She is known by the company she keeps--like her Son, easily going to the houses of sinners to be with them. The consequent allegiance she has won in the Christian world is far from the preserve of a Gnostic group. She is real to so many. "~ray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death," is possibly the most common prayer of invocation in the Catholic world. We can, perhaps, understand something of her appeal if we consider the best which can be said of Christian life, and glimpse how genuinely she reflects it. The anonymous medieval author mentioned earlier suggests that the human spirit can safely work with God once it "has been checked by the three witnesses, Scripture, direction, and common sense.-3 We can usefully consider how Our Lady reflects authentic Christian living in the light of that rubric. A New Creation Although not to everyone's taste, our faith is incarnational and so, "God'was in Christ reconciling the world to himself" (2 Co 5: 19), says St. Paul. He goes on to explain that, as an apostle and preacher, he shares in the same office of reconciliation, since God "gave us the ministry of reconciliation . . . entrusting to us the message of reconciliation" (2 Co 5: 18-19). It follows, therefore, that "we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us" (2 Co 5:20). Paul's mediatorial role is thus heavily emphasized in line after line. Such a mandate implies that who-ever is so commissioned as God's ambassador to help reconcile people to God must have received the enabling power of God to help him do it. He is, then, attuned to both God and man. His very person helps in binding people to God. "All this is from God" (2 Co 5:18). How is it done? It all depends on what is seen. Paul begins where the New Testament begins, with God first loving us in Christ. "For the love of Christ overwhelms us when we reflect." (2 Co 5: 14), he says, quite bowled over as he comes to an ever-wondering realization of what God has done for us in Christ. Christ, as one of us, lived, died and rose from a grave so that, in him, we might break out of our congenitally self-centered exis-tence which can even challenge the will of God, and so be able to "live 3~.4 / Review for Religious, May--June, 1987 no longer for themselves but for him [Christ] who for their sake died and was raised" (2 Co 5:15). Insofar as I am at one with the selfless Christ I can do the same. This vision of God in Christ can,provide the dynamic to draw me out of myself towards the will of God. Paul, a man among men, shackled, too, in the same self-centered world, and so wanting to be free of it, but seemingly powerless to change, now knows that this is possible in Christ. Paint the picture in the most somber colors, as bleak as can be, in a world where personal sin and selfishness can wreak havoc in epidemic proportions, and in it all Paul sees Christ. "For our sake, he [the Father] made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God" (2 Co 5:21). Whatever depths of evil can be reached individually or collectively, God in Christ is there empowering those who would accept him to break free of its infernal power: "All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself" (2 Co 5:18). This Paul sees and is part of as Christ's ambassador, engaged in reconciling his world to God. So deep is this view of reality that Paul sees it as something wholly new, not just a change or adaptation. "If anyone is in Christ he is a new creation; the old has passed away, behold the new has come" (2 Co 5:17). His center of reference now is God giving himself in Christ. The selfless Christ replaces the selfish Paul, as he breathes the invigorating air of one now free to live for God.He is still an imperfect man with partial vis~ion, but insofar as his lifeqs a response to God in Christ, he can only describe what is happening to him as a new creation. Ideally, he describes Chris-tian reality. His world has been recreated. Glorifying God If such a grasp of reality is true of Paul and the best of Christians, and true of us :all to a degree, it is, self-evidently, descriptive, too, of Our Lad~,. That vision is flawlessly realized in her. Sinless from her conception and now assumed into heaven, she is a new creation from the mind of God. So alive to God is she that she is alert to the implications of her being way beyond any experience of ours. She hungered for the will of God, so it became her food (see Lk 1:53). "Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your Word" (Lk 1:38) is the total response of the new creation. She is blessed, the Gospel maintains, because she believed and there-fore gave herself wholly to the Word of God. She is particularly blessed "among women, and blessed is the fruit of [her] womb" (Lk 1:42) as in her God in Christ was reconciling the world to himself. Her Son Jesus "will save his people from their sins" (Mt i:21). As the Word became Mary and Our Reconciliation / 325 flesh in her womb and in her life, having been welcomed in faith and love into her heart, her maternal being from first to last becomes part of the gift of her Son: "And going into the house they saw the child with Mary his mother"; "But standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother's sister" (Mt 2:1 I, Jn 19:25). Only a mother, perhaps, could under-stand the give and take of that exchange over a lifetime. Mary, one with her Son at so many levels as the years went by, learned so much of life as he lived in and for his Father's will, and yet "he went down with them and came to Nazareth and was obedient to them; and his mother kept all these things in her heart" (Lk 2:51). The reflective Chris-tian, too, has assimilated much of the perplexity of life in oneness with the heart of Mary. When she stood with her crucified Son as his life ended in ag6ny, "Jesus saw his mother, and the disciple whom he loved standing near" (Jn 19:26), and gave them to each other. Far from seeing this as a son tying up loose ends as best he could--his use of the word woman sug-gests more than a domestic arrangement--generations have felt the weight of those words from the Cross, and have gladly accepted the relationship, taking ourLady into their own homes. She is not then seen as just a type or evocative image of yesterday. Her appeal is of today and tomorrow, as her reconciling presence helps Christians to welcome and live the appeal of the Gospel in the Church. Admittedly these Gospel glimpses of Mary are or~ly straws in the wind, but many in the Church have loved the way the wind was blowing. The Pauline sketch of reconciliation in Second Corinthians outlined earlier, can become real in her person. This is especially true of those who could never read St. Paul, nor perhaps even pronounce the word "reconciliation." She radiates Christ, invariably generating the wonder and pleasur6 of Elizabeth's welcome as Mary hurried to her door: "And why is this granted me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?" (Lk 1:43). "Mother of my Lord" is, in the context, a new creation in Christ, ideally and providentially there to help reconcile us to God. Her heaven, too, is being spent doing good upon earth. DirectionmWhat Do the Saintlike Advise? Given that Our Lady, because of who she is in the providence of God, mediates God in Christ to us through her feminine, reconciling presence, we can reinforce that insight by continuing to take the advice of an English mystic and seek direction. What did those with the clearest Christian insight advise? What did the saints andsaintlike do? Perhaps we can glance at Julian of Norwich who, in her fourteenth-century hermitage, has distilled 396 / Review for Religious, May--June, 1987 sufficient insight to be found today on contemporary bookshelves as a best-selling paperback. Julian tlad asked for a bodily vision of Our Lady. She was never given one, but "when Jesus said: 'Do you wish to see her?" it seemed to me that I had the greatest delight that he could have given me in this spiritual vision of her which he gave me.-4 Delight, of course, is characteristic of Julian's understanding of the Faith, and she finds Our Lady delightful. She is enthralled by this God-given insight, and clear as to its implications: "And so he [Jesus] wishes it to be known that all who take delight in him should take delight in her and in the delight that he has in her and she in him." There is no suggestion here of tension, division or embarrassment. It is all so perfectly natural. Julian's understanding of the Faith, like St. Paul's, centers on Godwin Christ reconciling the world to himself through the cross. So suffused is it by the love of God--Julian really had grasped Paul's insight--that she can only delight in what God is doing. Responding as she does to Our Lady, she believes that she is sharing in Christ's delight in his mother and in hers in him. "For after myself [Jesus] she is the greatest ~joy that I could show you, and the greatest delight and honor to me." Far from seeing any contradiction or distraction in so honoring Our Lady, Julian sees it as the express will of Christ. One might reasonably expect this, as the relationship echoes the best in human nature as well as suggesting the hundredfold of all who are at one with God. Whenever delight is experienced, the whole person is marked, together with a~wish that everyone could see it, coupled with sad-ness and incomprehension if the delight cannot be shared. Julian, a new creation in Christ, savoring with an immediacy given to few his reconciling presence, sees Mary as part of the treasure to be found in Christ. Mary, for her, is not tacked on in a moment of misguided devotion, but rather soldered on by the love and will of God, intrinsically, if subordinately, part of the reconciliation found in Christ. In Mary she sees herself and all of us, "as if he [Jesus] said, do you wish to see in her how you are loved? It is for love of you that I have made her so exalted, so noble, so honorable; and this delights me. And I wish it' to°delight you." Maryqs no shadow across the face of Christ, but a further means of shar-ing delight in what God is doing in Christ. As one in Christ we may savor this, too, and insofar as we can see just how much we are loved in her, enjoy a comforting glimpse of our present and future status. It is not without interest that in the shorter text of Julian's "Revela-tions," believed to have been written some twenty years before the longer Mary and Our Reconciliation /327 text we have been using, she adds, after seeing Christ more gloriously than she had yet realized, "In this I was taught that every contemplative soul to whom it is given to look and seek, will see Mary and pass on to God through contemplation.-5 As always, in Julian the tone is uniform and the perspective unforced, and her faith is so alive in her belief that attachment to Our Lady will inevitably bring us to its source in God. Mary herself effects the transition, reconciling to God whoever is open to h~r influence. ~ It is said that, increasingly, women find less and less in Our Lady "as women discover themselves as less passive than Mary is made to appear in the gospels.",° They therefore look for other models. Women can, of course, speak for themselves, but as regards passivity in the gospels, it is useful to remember that the biblical "divine passive" is often just a passive tense serving to emphasize the wholly present activity of God. So, for exam-ple, Paul speaks of Christ, "who for their sake, died and was raised" (2 Co 5:15). God in Christ is not molding plasticine. The death and resurrection of Christ is not the behavior of a mechanic using an inert tool, but God's response to a life actively given to his will, even to accepting death in his name. The passive tense implies an active God and willing human Cooperation, and so as Paul said of the process of reconciliation, "All this is from God" (2 Co 5:18). So, too, when Julian speaks of those "to whom it is given to look and to seek," far from indicating lack of initiative in a passive recipient, she is speaking of someone alert and alive, empowered by the driving Spirit of God:. Motherhood strikes one as possibly the least passive of all vocations, especially as glimpsed in Mary's life in the gospels. She is so attractive and influential today simply because whatever God said she did in'faith. Does anyone really believe that banner headlines in a newspaper or a pic-ture on the cover of Time magazine are the measure of lasting influence? With so much left unsaid in the gosPels, it may well be'that the feminine, creative, nourishing and responsive qualities of Mary are what God has valued in her. Without these, people wither and personal relations are bleak. The old advice is still sound: "Do not teach [God] his business. Let him be. He has enough might, skill and goodwill to do the best for you and for all who love him.''7 Julian is always concerned for her "fellow-Christians," and her delight in the Faith is tangible, though she, too, lived in a socially horrific age. Calm self-possession is her keynote, never raising her voice. There is none of the stress that takes so many women today to the bottle or drugs, the counselor or the hospital. So many are living lives of quiet desperation, while others are teetering on the edge of despair. She writes out of con- Review for Religious, ~May--June, 1987 cern, with the simplicity of wisdom reflecting what she sees in faith. Her teaching of the natural delight of mother and son, and Christ's desire that we share in it, since we see just how much we are loved by God .in her, is surely, "simple, courteous, joyful.''8 Her guidance is at one with so much that is good in the Church. Common Sense God was in Christ recon~ciiing the world to himself. Those closest to him are effective mediators of his presen.ce. Clearly, "Paul, an apostle-- not from men or through man, but through Jesus Christ and God the Father" (Ga l:l), is superbly placed, but the origin of that call is valid, too, for Our Lady: Immaculately~conceived, bringing Christ into the world, raising him, beside him as he died, praying in the Church then, and now within the Church gloriously assumed into heaven, common sense would suggest that such a woman cannot but help in reconciling us to God. "This is only what sanctified common sense would expect: that God should keep safe all who for love of him forsake themselves, indifferent to their Own welfare.-9 The safety that is now hers she wants to be ours, and almost instinctively the Catholic faithful have felt this. In view of who she ~is in the providence of God, generations have opened themselves to her influ-ence in an often very unsafe world. G.K. Chesterton emphasized this when he told of the reaction of two eminent nineteenth.century Victorians to news of the proclamation of Our Lady's Immaculate Conception. Prince Albert was the husband of the leg-endary Queen Victoria who gave her name to an era, .and W.E. Gladstone was one of the outstaffding political figures of the age. If Chesterton is to be believed, the proposed declaration by the pope of Our Lady's Immac-ulate Conception was greeted with indecent hilarity by the former and with grief by the latter, as each in his own way saw in it the sign of the immi-nent downfall of Catholic. Christianity. Both were agreed that it would be unpopular. Albert and Gladstone, who both worked conscientiously for the poor, "understood so little of what that crown and image really meant to millions of ordinary people . Yet the applewoman did not dash madly out of church; seamstresses in garrets did not dash their little images ,of Mary to the ground, on learning that she was named Immaculate."~° Chesterton then speak~ of the first appearance of Our Lady at Lourdes some four years later. While the influential and educated still puzzled, "little knots of poor peasants began to gather round a strange, starved child before a crack in the rocks from whence was to spring a strange stream and almost a new city; the rocks she had heard resound with a voice crying, 'I am the Immaculate Conception.' " Did Albert and Gladstone~ men of Mary and Our Reconciliation / 329 integrity, even remotely approach the influence for good with ordinary people that is associated with the name Bernadette Soubirous? Shrines such. as Lourdes and private revelations such as Julian's are not to be considered as though from St. Paul and the gospels. Yet as a fact of life within the Church and with the approval of the Church, such places and similar insights undeniably have helped reconcile so many from every walk of life to God. In the light of Mary's Immaculate Conception each one of us is handicapped and in need, and she has particular appeal for those who are aware of their need. Here, especially, her faith and her fem-ininity are found so attractive, as she is known to be present now in imag-inative sympathy. In the circumstances, common sense would direct us to her company. Jimmy Durante used to celebrate that he was "the guy who found the lost chord." Unhappily, in the same breath, he had to admit that he had lost it again! It is given to few to be truly original. Life, genes, language, skills, food--virtually everything of consequence that has made us what we are have been mediated to us by others. It is the human condition, and it is the supernatural condition. Even the insights of a St. Paul are, under God, largely the result of an interchange, often troubled, between himself and his people. "The fathers have eaten sour grapes and the children's teeth are set on edge," may not be valid in terms of personal guilt, but it is true in terms of personal influence. Human beings transmit life and superb medical care, as well as AIDS and drug-dependent babies. Often the fruits of the Spirit are mediated through others as are the sins of the flesh. We all have reason to thank God for some of the people we have met as well as to regret the influence of others. As mediated experience is a fact of life for good or ill, common sense; would suggest that nothing but good can come from opening ourselves to Our Lady's influence. Her selfless, perceptive being, one person in Christ with ourselves, radiates God as she delights in the Lord her Savior. What-ever life did to her, "Mary kept all these things, pondering them in her heart" (Lk 2:19). Open to her reconciling influence, we too can assimilate experience, responding to God's presence in a sacramental world. Finally, common sense would especially commend that religious, who "ought to be poor in both fact and spirit" (Perfectae Caritatis 13), con-sider Our Lady's guidance in the search to be truly reconciled to God. She sees further and more clearly than any other guide in the Church, and her encouraging presence is always here. With increasing affluence, or possi-bly insensitivity, numbers of religious travel far looking for enlightenment. It is not wrong of course, but there does seem to be an innate contradic- 330 / Review for Religious, May--June, 1987 tion in the context of poverty when, for example, the search may take a religious to an a~hram in India, the deserts of Israel or California, or to the monasteries of Japan, Whatever insight is gained may be at the cost of a threadbare vow of poverty. Our Lady once appeared so nondescript as not to merit a first glance when she came with the offering of .the poor. Yet to the one truly enlight-ened by the Holy Spirit she was seen to be carrying in her arms "a light for revelation to the Gentiles" (Lk 2:32). She still reflects that same light now wherever we are in Christ. NOTES ~ M. Furlong, "The Power of,Images," The Way, October 1986, p. 299. 2 The Epistle of Privy Counsel, Chapter II, in The Cloud of Unknowing and Other Works, Penguin Books, 1978. 3 The Epistle of Privy Counsel, Chapter 10. 4 Julian of Norwich, Showings, Chapter 215, tr. E. C011edg~ and J. Walsh, Paulist Press, New York, 1978. All quotations are from Chapter 25 of this edition. 5 Julian of Norwich, op. cit., short text, Chapter 13. 6 M o Furlong, op. cit., p. 299. 7 The Epistle of Privy Counsel, Chapter 10. 8 Julian of Norwich, op. cit., short text, Chapter 13. 9 The Epistle of Privy Counsel, Chapter 6. ~0GoK. Chesterton, The Strange Talk of Two Victorians, and The Common Man, Sheed and Ward, 1950. Each quotation is from this essay. Brothers in the Church: A Vocational Reflection William Mann, F.S.C. Brother Mann is in his eighth year as a Formation Counselor for the Brothers of the Christian Schools. He had also served as Assistant Provincial for Formation (1979- 1984) and Director of Novices up to the present. He may be, addressed at: Christian Brothers; 83 West Lake Street: Skaneateles, New York 13152. ,~ few years ago, I volunteered to work at a Soup kitchen in Rhode Island. As my first experience of working with the street poor, it was both diffi-cult and challenging. Most of the time, I was afraid; and my fear kept me washing dishes and away from the people. I was attempting to make my contribution and avoid contact at the same time. On more courageous days, I would visit the dining room to sit and talk with the guests. Occasionally, I ventured, into the lounge to socialize after a meal. On one particularly hot day, a six-year-old child walked over to me, climbed into my lap, and using a shredded and badly soiled napkin wiped the perspiration from my forehead. He kissed my cheek, hugged me, and moved my heart. So para-lyzed by my own fears that I found it difficult to offer hospitality, this poor child reached out and offered me love. The story of my encounter with this young boy in a soup kitchen high-lights four key aspects of the vocation of Brother: I) ours is primarily a ministry of example; 2) our ministry on behalf of the Gospel and on behalf of the sanctification of others r~quires our own radical transformation; 3) those to whom we minister will be the instruments of our own conversion; and 4) 9urs is, therefore, primarily a ministry of reciprocity and mutuality. At the time that this incident occurred, I was teaching English and reli-gion in a coed secondary school. "Example makes a much greater 331 339 / Review for Religious, May--June, 1987 impression on the mind and heart than words."~ If I wanted my students to take seriously the admonition of Jesus to feed the hungry and clothe the naked and visit the imprisoned, then I knew that I was going to have to put those words into action myself. In twenty-two years as a Brother of the Christian Schools, I can hon-estly say that I have attempted to put my life at the service of the Gospel. As teacher, activity moderator, dormitory supervisor, school administrator, retreat director, and now formation counselor, I have worked consistently at proclaiming the Gospel by word and by example. Often this has been a humbling experience. "We are only the earthenware jars that hold this treasure, to make it clear that such an overwhelming power comes from God and not from us" (2 Co 4:7). My entire life as a vowed religious brother is a sincere, and yet sometimes inadequate, attempt to put the Gospel into practice. Accompanying those students each Wednesday to the soup kitchen was just one concrete instance of living out this commitment. "Your zeal for the children under your guidance would be very imperfect, if you expressed it only in teaching them; it will only become perfect if you practice yourself what you are teaching them. ''~- The example of Chris-tianity lived is what "brother-ing" is all about. Although religious brothers have traditionally been identified by the work we do (teacher, health practitioner, parish assistant, or manual laborer), I contend that our particular ministry, while significant in terms of individual congregations, is not of the essence of our vocation in the Church. It is the choice to be called "brother" which has always pinpointed our key contribution. Our very existence as brothers announces the new world order ushered in by Christ. We understand ourselves to be among those chosen by God "long ago and intended to become true ima.ges of his Son, so that his Son might be the eldest of many brothers [and sisters]" (Rm 8:29). The Scriptures tirge us to "love our neighbor as ourself" (Mt 22:39). That child reached out to me in love; and I believe that, in his person, Jesus Christ reached out to me and reminded me that, since God is my Father, all of us are'brothers and sisters. That young child reminded me that I was his brother, and challenged me to accept the people around me and not to get caught up in the differences of age, class, or color. He reminded me that God intends that we should love one another and that we should let go of the prejudices, defenses, fears, and barriers that hold us back from truly being his children, brothers and sisters of one another. This very ministry in which I was engaged on behalf of others was requiring that I °Brothers in the Church / 333 change. I was being challenged to live more fully the message that I preached. I was at the soup kitchen on this particular day precisely because I was trying to educate my students to share the gifts and the blessings of their own lives with those less fortunate. However, Jesus used the opportunity to challenge me to see him among the poor. This is the second key aspect of the vocation of brother; our consecration as brothers commits us to a life of transformation. Loving Jesus always means being changed. I wanted to help my students; Jesus chose to help me be more open to receiving the blessing the poor could be in my life. I went to the soup kitchen hoping to embody the loving presence of Jesus in the world; I returned home having encountered Jesus' loving presence in another. Initially, it seemed ironic that I was challenged to live the Gospel more wholeheartedly by the very people for whom I was attempting to be its proclamation. This was, however, the very heart of the teaching of St~ John Baptist DeLaSalle on what it means to be a brother. Furthermore, this was not only DeLaSalle's teaching; it was his own experience. We minister to others, but they call us to holiness. St. John Baptist DeLaSalle founded the Brothers of-the Christian Schools in France in 1679 to give a Christian education to the children of the working class and the poor. By 1682, however, the Society of the Chris-tian Schools was threatened with collapse. DeLaSalle urged his first di~cj-. pies to trust in Providence. As with the birds of the air and the lilies of the field, God would provide (Mt 6:25-30). The brothers challenged .DeLaSalle's right to say these things. He still had great family weal~l~ and a prestigious position as Canon of the Cathedral of Reims. What did he know of trusting in Divine Providence? If the schools collapsed, he would be safe. In his attempt to minister to the brothers, DeLaSalle hims61f was called' to holiness. He attempted to announce the Gospel to them; they challenged tiimto a fuller living of the Gospel. The first biographers report that so complete was his devotion tO the brothers and to the foundation of the Christian Schools that he heard in their challerlge the invitation of Jesus to take the Gospel more seriously, resign his Canonry, and distribute his wealth among the poor.3 Christ continues to speak to the brother through his disciples. If" we open our eyes and our hearts, we will continue to hear in them the invita-tion to draw closer to God. I believe that~this is what DeLaSalle meant when he wrote: "You can be assured that if you act this way [with an ardent zeal] for their salvation, God himself will take responsibility for yours."4 He was not speaking here of some kind of mysterious and passive 334 / Review for Religious, May--June, 1987 transformation. He was articulating his own experience. In proclaiming the Gospel to others, the Gospel lays claim on our own hearts. God uses the people and the situations of our lives to evangelize us. Through them and for the sake of the Gospel, God gradually refashions us into the image of his Son. Over and over again, the people and the situations of my life have pro-vided the opportunity to draw closer to Christ. There have been many times in my life when Jesus has asked me to recognize him and to love him in another person. Sometimes that person has been someone for whom I cared deeply; at times, that person has been a complete stranger. What has so often struck me in the Gospel has been the ability of Jesus to be open to all kinds of people in so many different situations. He saw in every person he met a reflection of his Father, a new and unique and beautiful side of God that could be seen in no other person or in no other place on this earth. I believe that Jesus calls us to open our eyes and our hearts to him as he continues to show himself to us in one another. Hence, ours is a ministry marked by reciprocity and mutuality. "They are a letter which Christ dictates to you, which you write each day in their hearts, not with ink, but by the Spiri! of the living God.-5 In inviting others to holiness, our own lives are opened to holiness. Those to whom we min-ister facilitate the capturing by the Gospel of our own hearts. I more and more suspect that this is the key aspect of the vocation of brother. In our openness to the evangelical dimension of everyday life, we provide our clearest witness on behalf of the Gospel. What greater example can be given than that I allow another to become the instrument of my own con-version to a fuller living of Gospel values? Jesus Christ is the "pearl of great price" (Mt 13: 44-46), and I ardently .desire to "share Jesus with those who have been entrusted to my care. We brothers desire to share "the treasure we have found hidden in the field of our own lives. ,,6 Our world is already bombarded with empty and meaningless words. What is needed are people who not only speak of Jesus but who act as followers of Jesus. What is needed are people who follow him so wholeheartedly that they become new incarnations of God's loving presence in the world. This is what I believe the vocation of brother is all about; this is what I am trying to do with my life---do this because I.believe this is what God Wants me to do. Furthermore, I do it because I believe that there are millions of people on our planet today~some Chris-tians, some Jews and Moslems, som6 far away, but very many are young Americans who look,to see if anyone any longer takes Jesus Christ seri- Brothers" in the Church / 335 ously. What hangs in the balance is the very credibility of the Gospel itself: 7 St. Paul assures us that the wisdom of this world is not the wisdom of God (I Co 3~!9); and I do not doubt that, in the face of a modern' Amer-ican society that encourages and fosters a pursuit of pleasure, possessions, and self-interest,8 it is perceived by many as foolhardy to be willing to want God to be more important than anything else in this world, and courageous enough to take the vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience. Yet we broth-ers are bold enough to believe that our own radical, personal conversion to Gospel values really has the potential to make a difference in the lives of those around us. We believe that this is the gift which Jesus Christ intends us to be for his Church. As DeLaSalle writes: "Be convinced of what St. Paul says, that you plant and water the seed, but it is God through Jesus Christ who makes it grow, that he is the one who brings your work to fulfillment?. ~ Earnestly ask him to make his Spirit come alive in you, since he has chosen you to do his work.-9 NOTES ~ John Baptist DeLaSalle, Meditations for the Time of Retreat, trans. Augustine Loes (Winona, Minnesota: St. Mary's College Press, 1975), p. 94] 2 DeLaSalle, p. 80~ 3 John Baptist Blain, The Life. of John Baptist DeLaSalle, trans. Richard Arnandez (Winona, Minnesota: St. Mary's College Press, 1982), Vol. I, Book I, pp. 81-84; Eli Maillefer, The Life of John Baptist DeLaSalle, trans. William Quinn (Winona, Minnesota: St. Mary's College Press, 1963), pp. 27-28. 4 DeLaSalle, p. 91. 5 DeLaSalle, p. 54. 6 Jose Pablo Basterrechea, "Address of the Superior General to the Regional Convoca-tion of the Brothers of the Christian Schools" (Mgraga, California: Regional Convoca-tion, 1984). 7 James Wallis, The Call to Conversion (S~in Francisco! Harper and Row, 1981); Pedro Arrupe, "What Is the Greatest Service Which Religious Can Give Today to Human-ity and to the Church?" Donum Dei No. 24 (1978). 8 John Kavanaugh, Following Christ in a Consumer Society (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, ~981). 9 DeLaSalle, p. 56. ' Appropriate Formation Martin O'Reilly, C.F.C. Brother O'Reilly, Director:of Formation for his community in Liberia, previously wrote "Current Conceptions of Religious Formation: An Analysis"r (November/Dece,mbe.r issue, 1985). His address is: Christian Brothers; P.O. Box 297; Monrovia, Liberia; West Africa. When Captain Smith of the Titanic uttered the words, "The only ice around here, Sparks, is in my drink," he was displaying a characteristic common to most of us--skepticism. When many American and European religious hear of the great vocation boom within the develoPing churches and look at their own decreasing numbers and formation houses being turned into retreat centers and homes for the aged, they skeptically wonder: "How it is that so many young Africans and others are being attracted to living a life of community, prayer and service as religious?" When I returned to Liberia in 1982 after an absence of eight years, we still had no local brothers in our West African communities~espite erect-ing a novitiate building in 1975 and having made it clear toall and sundry that we were keen to welcome local candidates into our communities. As I write this article in 1987 we have, to date, eighteen Wes~ African mem-bers and a thriving candidacy.program. We have just missioned our first West African brothers to set up a new community to work among leprosy sufferers, and fully expect to open another community elsewhere in either Liberia or Sierra Leone during the coming year. It seems fantastic to many in our congregation that in the space of five years we have more novices and junior professed religious in West Africa than in many of our other pro-vinces combined together. When people ask me how it is, I usually tell 336 Appropridte Formation / 337 them that it is the Holy Spirit's work--and something called "Appropri-ate Formation." This article will be concerned with defining the meaning of a religious formation that is~rooted within a developing-church situation. I will be using categories and concepts normally associated with the development of appropriate technology in developing economic and social orders, and .'using them to map out a theory of religious formation that is ,appropri-ate" to this new wave of young religious that congregations throughout the developing world are beginning to welcome into their ranks. In the second part of the article I will outline some of the important issues that our own young West Africah members felt should be on the agenda for an appro-priate formation. Appropriate Formation: A Definition Appropriate formation involves the application of the principles of reli-gious life to concrete local situations. This means developing ways or "technologies" which can be defined as "replicable methods for solving community problems and developing the capacities of communities to achieve their own goals" (S.B. Fawcett, R.M. Mathews and R.K. Fletcher, "Some Promising Dimensions for Behavioral Community Tech-nology," Journal of Applied Behavior Analysis, 13, 1980). These authors propose that seven dimensions of a technology must be considered to ensure the appropriateness of the technology: - Effectiveness - Expense - Decentralization - Flexibility -Sustainability - Simplicity - Compatibility A new technology means anew way of.doing things for the people who use the technology or who are affected by its use. For any significant change in behavior or attitudes to persist and the technology to be effective, the rewards, satisfactions and achievements obtained have to clearly outweigh the efforts and difficulties involved. For this to happen in the area of religious formation, formators need to have a firm understanding of what are to be the intended outcomes, methods t6 be used, content to be consid-ered and evaluation procedures which will° make up their formation pro-gram. This will, of necessity, demand that'~i formator sit down with both professed members of the group a~d neophytes, and work out what real- 338 / Review for Religious, May--June, 1987 istic goals a formation community can set itself, what practical wfiys they can be realized, and their appropriateness evaluated at different stages of the formation program. Inexpensiveness is of'considerable importance in a context such as West Africa since cash incomes are generally low. If we expect r~ligious from such regions ,!o earn their own keep and to be credible followers of the "chaste, poor and obedient Christ" for their people, then their formation experience should~prepare them f6r this reality. The end values of religious life shouid"not be obscured by the trappings of a partiCular lifestyle that is alien to the majority of Candidates prior tO entering a religious com-munity. Decentralization means the application of technology at a local level rather than from a remote center. Local religious will need to assume full responsibility .for the living out of their commitment, and not look to over-seas generalates and provincialates for direction on every facet of their lives. They are "the people on the spot," and they need both the compe-tence and the confideqce to discern in what direction the Spirit is calling them. As far as possible, ~those in initial formation need to be shown that responsibility and accountability are intrinsic to religious life. If candidates are not willing to grow in these areas, then there is no place for them 4n a religious community. If formation technologies are not flexible there is. little chance that people will be prepared to handle the gigantic social and pastora, I devel-opments that are taking place in so many parts of the world. There has to be a clear distinction made during religious formation between the end values and the means values of religious life. The end values are not negotiable, but the means ones can be redefined in the light of new insights among the members and the needs of the Church and of society. A flex-ible dimension in religious formation will concern itself with presenting a range of options to cope with specific concerns, and will include guide-lines for Change according to the felt needs of the group in formation. A frequent concern of formation personnel is that many young reli-gious, after having passed through the novitiate, experience a painful regression to the state they were in prior to entering the community. It is as though no significant personal or spiritual development had taken place. Often the cause~of this is because the technology, or way of being a reli-gious, is not sustainable: at the local community level. They leave the novitiate with either unreal expectations of what religious life will be,, and are disillusioned with what they find to be t.he reality~ or they flounder with- 6ut ihe strong guiding hand of a r~ligious specifically missioned to help Appropriate Formation / 339 them overcome every hurdle they may encounter. A gradualist strategy is needed during formation wherein "stretch-outs" are provided so as to allow young religious to know what it means to live, pray and work in a typical community of the congregation. Here they can focus on the con-crete problems of religious life rather than on the long range goal-setting which makes up so much of the agenda of religious formation. A new technology must be simple and comprehensible enough to be understood by its potential users. Religious formators will need to acknowl-edge the "multi-path" approach when dealing with candidates coming from differing social, economic and educational and faith backgrounds. There. have to be features of a formation program that provide for acceler-ation when goals are realized and values interiorized, and a locking-in system that prevents regression from gains obtained. Finally, any new technology must fit into the community or society at large. To be compatible with the surroundings from which the candidates are comirig and in which their religious formation is taking place, the new technology must be seen to work. It must be seen to provide religious men and women whose lifestyle is clearly valued and appreciated by the immedi-ate society. If religious life is seen as wholly meaningless by those around, it is difficult to see how an individual can commit himself or herself unreservedly to such a vocation. Appropriate Formation: An Agenda I want to turn now to a consideration of what are some of the problems facing young local religious. I shall outline these issues within the frame-work of the three end values of religious life---community, prayer and ser-vice. To identify what are the problems our young religious will have to confront is the necessary first step towards devising a formation program appropriate to the people and situation in which religious life will find a new beginning. Community. ~ The issue of where a person's primary loyalties lie---either with one's extended family or with the community--is a source of tension for most local religious at one stage.or another of their lives. Appropriate formation must tackle this area sensitively but una.mbiguously: "No, a community cannot take on the responsibility of supporting and educating younger mem-bers of a local religious' family; but yes, a community will help in a crisis or an emergency as best as it can." Formal membership in a religious.con-gregation must broaden a person's "in" group to .those past and living mem-bers of the congregation around the world. If the extended family holds 340 / Review for Religious, May--June, 1987 the central loyalties of the young religious, then eventually a clash will come and he or she will be the casualty. It is hard to be a citizen of two worlds! Unless serious efforts are made to tackle the issue where a person's identity and sense of belonging lie, feelings of inauthenticity may arise within the young religious, and eventually may lead to their departure from the community. Likewise, with the question of tribal or national bonds, while encour-aging people to be proud of their heritage, those distinctions which blur the call of a person to see everyone as his or her brother or sister in Christ, must be faced up to during the period of initial formation. Tribalism, mean-ing the preference for one's own tribe over national interests, is a growing political concern in post-colonial Africa. Local religious can easily fall into a tribal mentality with disastrous consequences for community living. Going against tribalism is no easy thing and young religious need to be under no illusion that to have respect for each person's tribal identity is one of the primary signs that they can give to their people of the inclusive nature of the kingdom of God. Many of those who apply for membership in religious communities in developing countries carry with them stories of how they had to struggle against all odds to complete their schooling and perhaps to start in a career. This experience of being a "survivor," when so many of their friends gave up along the road, can lead some to evaluate any or every facet of religious life in terms of what they can get materially from the community--instead of what they can give to the community. Every formation community fairly exudes the idea that there are those already in the community (i,e., they own the house, the bedsheets and the marmalade), and those who wish to join the community. This is a classic "donor-receiver" situation. Usually it takes years for a religious to believe that the house and community pos-sessions are not "theirs" but "ours." In a developing-country situation this "donor-receiver" mentality can persist far longer when the professed religious are white and those joining the community are black. Obviously, religious life means old and young, black and white--or ~,hatever other contrasts a person cares to make between people--all attempting to live in harmony together. This is our" witness of the kingdom and the means by which we build up the Church. For that to happen, there has to be a basic leveling among the members of the community. Formators need to devise ways in which local religious can "own," not only the community goods, but the core values at the heart of the community. Prayer Appropriate Formation / 341 . Much of religious formation, in the spiritual domain, is concerned with deepening a person's,capacity for, and appreciation of, a "grace-full" rela-tionship with Jesus. This is a task for religious formators worldwide, but in my experience, .those working in countries with a strong animist tradi-tion have added challenges. The first one is helping young religious see that prayer, to be real; must be a constant part 6f a person's life. Just praying when the community decides to pray in common is not enough. When prayer is simply a duty expected of one by others, then the shallowness of a person's prayer~life will be revealed when serious vocational problems arise and a ~oung~reli-gious doesn't really believe that there is a God who is ready to love, under~ stand and forgive. In my experience of countries with a strong animist tra-dition, God is more than likely to be feared rather than loved, .and for-giveness is at a price. Coupled to the above challenge is that of helping local candidates real-ize that the form and structure of prayer are not ends in themselves. They are only aids to developing an'awareness of God in ~ne's life and in encour-aging prayerful living. The tendency in the animist tradition to overstress the ma,.gical nature of prayer can lead to a marked separation ~of the sacred and the secular, andah inability to make the "stuff Of daily living" the quarry for one's own prayer. A third challenge I believe formators can have is helping young reli-gious recognize that their own people's spiritual heritage can provide them with stepping stones to discover and value the face of God in Jesus. They will need a strong, personal faith to be able to discern authentically the pres- 6nee of God in their people's faith history, and a vision of the Church as embracing all peoples and cultures, as acknowledging and respecting the I,ocal character of each people. Service In many countries where the Church is newly rooted, much is made of a person's final profession or ordination--I suppose because local reli-gious and priests are still a rarity in many places. Sadly, perhaps, not a few young men and women leave the altar as newly professed or ordained with a very exalted view of themselves. They go on mission with a mentality, more suited to starting a career than a vocation. We need a model of the "servant" Church as never before in devel-oping countries. Otherwise the cr6"dibility and respect which the first mis-sionaries earned from the people will vanish. If there are not local men and women prepared to minister with total conviction and compassion to the marginalized of their society,, then things do not look well for the future. 349 / Review for Religious, May--June, 1987 I believe that there are people amongst those seeking to follow "the chaste, poor and obedient Christ" who have the dynamism and selflessness of those first missionaries. But they will need every encouragement and incen-tive to rise above merely identifying with the better educated and affluent members of their society. Appropriate format.ion will need to stress the distinction between a career and a vocation, and to present clearly and simpl~, the model of Jesus who had "nowhere to lay his head," who could welcome all and who was wholly caught up in doing the will of his Father. Conclusion Thi~ article has concerned itself with indicating dimensions of a for-mation program that must be appropriate to the persons it serves and to the so(iety in which such people will minister. I have pointgd out some of the priorities I feel that formators involved in develpping-church situations need to take note of and to put.on their formation agenda. To those who are skep-tical concerning the future of religious life in the. world today, let me end wiih a quote from Samuel Beckett: "He sat with me in the dark room of my doubt and lit a candle." During my five years of close involvement with religious forma_tion in West Africa, I have seen that candle glowing, and my hope is that religious throughout the world will, like me, grow in certainty by its light. From Tablet to Heart: Internalizing New Constitutions land II by Patricia Spillane, M.S.C. Price: $1.25 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. Growth Producing Tensions in Pre-Novitiate Formation Donna Marie Wilhelm, S.N.D. Since writing this article, Sister Donna Marie has been transferred to Sarasota's Cardi-nal Mooney High School where she now teaches and is local superior. She may be addressed at 4004 Fruitville Road; Sarasota, Florida 33582. Liberal, conservative; masculine, feminine; introvert, extrovert; Ignatian, Franciscan; adjectives--"labels" that describe experience, that are valu-able as long as they do not become restrictive in their attempt to'describe, as long as they do not bind rather than free us for growth and understand-ing. These labels are set up in tension as opposites, or perhaps better as complements. Their value is not so much in setting persons in opposition to one another, but in directing them to wholeness of vision. They provide for an expression of tension that can lead to healthy growth and a more com-plete outlook on life and experience. I believe that formation, too, is about tension--healthy tension--that is inherent in the process itself. Tensions exist throughout the period of initial formation with varying emphases and with differing intensities. This is particularly true in the pre-novitiate period. One of the dangers in the beginning of the formation process is that some individuals, once they begin to live in a community setting, may live out of a sense of finality that says, "I have made my decision. This is where God wants me. Just tell me what to do in order to be a good Sister of Notre Dame (or Franciscan or whatever) and I will do it." A stance like this needs to be explored gently, and then laid to rest as a false and harmful presupposi-tion. 343 344 / Review for Religious, May--June, 1987 I believe that it is more accurate to define vocation as a verb rather than a noun, as E.F. O'Doherty has suggested in The Psychology of Vocation. A vocation is not something that I "have"; it is a possibility for me to "become." Implied in this kind of definition is the reality that following a particular vocation involves a repeated act of choosing. In the initial stages it involves decision-making that then becomes the raw material for an ongoing discernment process. For the remainder of this article I want to describe three of the tensions that I think are common to those who are new to the religious process: those in pre-novitiate. Since formation does not happen in a vacuum but in the context of community, community members and attitudes among members are very important in helping the individuals in formation to negotiate these tensions successfully. Child/Adult. Jean Vanier has said, "When people come into a community they are usually in a state where you can ask anything at all of them . People coming into community have a child's grace.''1 This stateof becoming "like a child" again i~ a result of a variety of factors: the initial joy and enthusiasm of any beginner; the "rush" that comes with "finally arriv-ing"; but perhaps most importantly there is a tremendous loss of the famil-iar for the newcomer. o Ray B(adbury in his book Dandelion Wine tells a story that points to the importance of the familiar, of the everyday. It is a story of two y, oung boys and their summer discoveries through everydayness. Doug, the older boy, decides to keep a record bf the summer's adventures in a yellow nickel tablet. In explaining his plan to his brother Tom, Doug begins: I'm going to divide the su.mmer up in two parts. First part of this tablet is titled: Rites and Ceremonies. The first root beer pop of the year. The first time of the year running barefoot in the grass. First time of the year almOst drowning in the lake. First watermelon. First mosquito. First har-vest of dandelions. Those are the things we do over and over and over and never think. Now here in the back, like I said, is Discoveries and Revelations or maybe Illuminations, that's a swell word, or Intuitions, okay? 'in other words you do an o!d familiar thing, like bottling dandelion wine and" you put that under Rites and Ceremonies. And then you think about it, and what you thinkr crazy or not, you put under Discoveries and Revelatiohs. Here's wha~ I got on the wine: Every time you bottle it, yo~u got .a whole chunk of 1928 put away, safe.2 Wh~t Bradbury recounts is in many ways similar t~ the dynamic of the familiar in our lives, the movement from the experience of the world.,gs Tensions in Pre-Novitiate Formation / 345 alien, through a sense of well-being, to an awakening to "otherness." Our first experience as children, or later in life as beginners in a religious for-mation process, is one of awe, dread, an overwhelming helplessness and powerlessness. As children, this sense of, anxiety is usually answered by our parents who provide a caring atmosphere in which we can experience some security. We need this sense of security and familiarity with persons, things and event~ in order to function in this world. This movement from helplessness'and powerlessness to security and familiarity is a "child to adult" movement. Being "at home" in our world is also essential to our spirituality. We need to be grounded in the familiar and the ordinary, since it is that grounding that gi'ves us a feeling of belonging, at homeness, security. And these experiences point to a deeper ground, ou~ groundedness in God in faith, hrpe and love. Our faith in God must be incarnated in our experience, and this happens as we reflect 6n the everyday occurrences where God touches our lives. If what is familiar and "everyday" in our lives is so important to our adulthood, to our functioning and to our grounding in God, then losing our"' sense of "at homeness" in our day-to-day living is a significant loss. It is this loss that brings us back to being like a child again, a child in an alien world. What takes place at the onset of the pre-novitiate is e~actly that: the loss of the familiar. "Familiar" in this context may mean different things for different individuals but for most it includes job, apartment, car, friends and family and a certain degree of indepepdence ih action and in decision-making. Loss of the familiar is often accompanied by a feeling that "I'm out of control," a feeling of helplessness in my new environment. In many candidates this is expressed by a loss of ability to do something as simple as balancing time, and that results in lost hours of sleep, cutting down on leisure and exercise to make up, loss of efficienqy on the job, in ministry or at school. Moving into a new place with new people requires a tremendous adjust-ment. It involves~a period of trying to determine what "the rules" are in this group .with whom I have chosen to live. It is a time of grieving for many losses. And it is a time that is often ac~companied by regression, the return to patterns of behavior that helped us to cope with an alien world when we were children. One of the problems in c?mmunity is that this regressive behavior can be very disconcerting to the "old-timers" unless they are aware of what is happening. It is a crucial period when the com-munity must offer support and understanding, but must carefully guard against giving a formula for a new identity too soon. As in any loss, the loss of what is familiar can break the newcomer open to another necessary 346 / Review for Religious, May--June, 1987 element of life,- the transcendent. The pain of this experience can be an invitation to the candidate to begin the process of lived discernment, of choosing his or her vocation in day-to-day life. A further difficulty.in community can occur if the purpose of this time of formation is not well understood. The heart of the pre-novitiate is built on the call to holiness that all Christians share. That call must be explored and deepened through gradual growth in self-awareness and developing nat~ ural gifts, in dealing with past losses and hurts, in deepening prayer and in learning the dynamics of community living. "Our candidates are older women," some community members say, "women with education, with work and life experience. Why do they need to spend a year or two in a pre-noyitiate process?" It is a very common mistake to look at a person's age, work experience, social skills and make a statement like "Why can't she just begin as a novice?" It is so important not to equate age absolutely with any given level of human maturity, of experience, of spiritual or pro-fessional development. Accompanying women, especially older ones has ¯ only confirmed my belief that each individual is composed of many com-plex variables, and the time spent at the beginning of the formation pro-cess is not "lost" but is essential to provide a confirmation of gifts, an accurate assessment of needs and limitations, and then time to allow the individual to begin to build a foundation for continuing discernment for the future. This is the purpose of the pre-novitiate as it is described in Essen-tial Eletnents. It is the period "in which the genuineness of the call is iden-tified as far as possible . -3 It is a time of growth, not stagnation. Being In/Being Out Another significant area of tension for those in the pre-novitiate pro-cess is the tension that is created by not being a "real" member of the congregation, by hot even, strictly speaking, being a "religious," while living in a house of the congregation with its real members, more or less according to their manner of life. One of the major emphases in the doc-uments dealing with formation that have been published since Vatican Coun-cil II is that of the concept of gradual transition, that is, the idea that the mok, ement from the previous lifestyle to the life of religious consecration should be a gradual, not an abrupt one, and that it involve a time of transi-tion rather than of drastic or dramatic change. Congregations have made many and varied efforts in this diri~ction. They have developed vocation-awareness activities that reach into the elementary schools, retreats and overnight experiences for high school stu-dents, and live-in programs for those who hre seriously considering the option of religious life.-'Many congregations have begun nonresident affil- Tensions in Pre-Novitiate Formation 347 iate programs to give interested men or women an even closer experience of their life. These efforts are all for the sake of gradual acquaintance and transi-tion, find they are invaluable. They need to be carried into the period of pre-novitiate as well. One way to accomPlish this is to establish the pre-novitiate community as an "in-between" community as Vanier cails it in his book Community and Growth. IdeallY this community will be com-posed of the candidates, the director ahd several oth,er professed members who represent different mir~istries. I am not speaking here of simply moving the candidates and director into an established local community-- even though in fact this is what may happen. The difference is that the pri-mary purpose for the existence of the "in-between" community is to pro-vide a formative environment for the candidates. Such a community pro-vides an environment which facilitates the transition of the individual from being an independent lay man or woman to being incorporated as a com-munity member, and finally to becoming a committed member of this specific community and congregation~. It must, be an environment that encourages reflective living, where acceptance is~not based on conformity. What is of primary significance at this stage is to foster human growth and a sense of responsibility towards the life, not to provide a cozy escape from decision-making or a neat set of dos and don'ts. Such a community will provide a rhythm of life that is the "bare bones" for continued discernment; a rhythm of reflection, silence and prayer. It must give the time for candidates to participate in courses or group direction that con-tinue, to develop knowledge of the faith and of the spiritual life. Finally it will provide opportunities for some type of initial exposure to the ministries of the congregation and for some connectedness with the local Church. The individual who +omes to a pre-novitiate experience has made a definite decision and commitment, and so has the congregation ~vhich he or she has joined. Being "in-b~tween" does not water down that commit-ment or mitigate the decision. Rather it gives the space f~)r the candidate" to do two very important things: t~) learn hoW to live in community arid to adjust significant relationships to his or her new lifestyle. These issues are important ones in becoming a member of any community, not just a religious congregation. Outlining the elements in "learning" community is simple. Living them is a tremendous challenge. At the very beginning, a knowledge of the stages in the growth Of a community is essential, as is an awareness of some basic dynamics that can occur. I have found the material provided 3till / Review for Religious, May--June, 1987 by Hammet and Soefield in their book Inside Christian Community extremely helpful in these areas. Communication and dealingwith conflict are two other key issues. I believe that the most difficult of any of these is conflict management. This is true not only for the newcomer, but for most of us who have lived in religious communities for years. Each time I am involved in a workshop on this topic with our candidates I am aware of how much more I must learn. It is so iinportant to be patient, firm, and to provide supportive gui.d:~ ance in this area. Above all, experienced community members must not fall into the trap of becoming the rescuer between two candidates or a can-didate and another community member who may have taken on the roles of victim ancl persecutor in regard to each other. Being willing to sit down and role-play situations or conversations is a valuable tool here. In sum, the skills of conflict management must be practiced, our limitations and weakness shared, if growth is to occur. ~ The "in-between" climate of the pre-novitiate community also pro-vides the space necessary for the candidates to adjust significant relation-ships in their lives. This is particularly important for candidates who come with a broad base of family, friends and work-related contacts. It takes time and the freedom to move in and out of community to make the decisions necessary to maintain some relationships, to let go of others', and to invest in new ones within the community or in a ministerial setting. This is no small task because it involves community members who can allow for free-dom but also who, through modeling and guidance, can gradually intro-duce the candidates into the obligations and time commitments that com-munity life can and must of its very nature demand. Providing opportunities for the community to get to know the family and friends of the candidate can be extremely helpful and enrichi.n.g for both. Visiting, inviting family members to share in celebrations, and other casual contacts are,just a few ways to do this. Again, grow,th must be suppprted by u,nderstanding, hon-esty, openness in dialogue, and willingness to search together for the best decisions. In these areas, too, we are dealing with choosing a lifestyle, with making decisions that are more and more--or less and less-~consonant with one particular life direction rather than another. Fitting In/Impacting For Change A newcomer to any group can be expected to ask the question, "What d6,.I have to do to fit in here, to be one of you?" He or she may also say "I have talents, gifts, a vision to offer that may call for some changes in our group. Will they be acce.pted?" The tension between the desire to "fit in" and the need to influence toward change is born in these questions. Tensions in Pre-Novitiate Formation / 349 There is, I believe, a very real sense in which a candidate in any religious congregation must "fit" if not "fit in." In an attempt to be "liberated" and "open" to everything, I think we sometimes try to deny the truth of that. Our congregations do .have living traditions, a heritage that must be experienced and to some extent learned. We each have a unique identity; whether we have articulated that or not, that is our founding gift, and it is that which mediates the Gospel to the members of our institute. The for-mation process takes place according to this founding gift.4 The community at large is very important in this aspect of the process. The Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults in number four states: "The initia-tion of catechumens takes place, step by step, in the midst of the com-munity of the faithful. Together with the catechumens, the faithful reflect upon the value of the Paschal Mystery, renew their own conversion, and by their example lead the catechumens to obey the Holy Spirit more gener-ously." Since the call to religious consecration is a call to the deepening of one's baptismal consecration, an analogy can be drawn between the pre-novitiate and the catechumenate, between the involvement of the faithful and the indispensable involvement of the religious community in which the candidates seek membership. Members of religious communities see in their initiates not only a renewal of their individual covenant relationship with the Lord, but also the hopeof the continued life of the congregation. Rejoicing in and affirming new members in their call is essential. It draws the candidates into a large~',.sense of belonging, gives them a sense of his-tory and furnishes them with many more individual touchstones of unique charism, as well as an experience of charism in the corporate sense. For those who are already part of the community at large there is not only the opportunity but the responsibility to participate in "handing on" the congregation's traditions, and of being a "welcoming presence." "Welcoming presence" says, "this is how we are." At times of celebra-tion, community prayer and working together, it is a presence that says, "This is the diversity of ways in which we express our common charism. For us, Sisters of Notre Dame, our charism includes a simplicity of life and an experience of the Father's provident care in our lives that is expressed in the phrase 'How good is the good God!'. These elements of our shared vision are concretized in a special family spirit, and in our efforts to min-ister to the poor, to bring hope to them through evangelization and catechesis. You are welcome to be with us and to bring your uniqueness to our vision." 350 / Review for Religious, May--June, 1987 Once again it is absolutely necessary, though, that the "welcoming" not become a welcome that demands immediate conformity. The com-munity must understand the "in-between" nature of pre-novitiate and the primacy during this time of confirming the choice of this particular lifestyle within the basic call to holiness. "Welcoming" also includes welcoming gifts and initiative. When I enter into a relationship with hnother, I invite the possibility of being changed by that encounter. I trust that the new vision that we come to share together is good and growth producing. This is true of the new members in community. "Candidate" is not necessarily equal to "'young" and "inexperienced." We need to remind ourselves of that at times, and let our welcome include the invitation to enter into our life in a meaningful and effective way. 'Practically, this means including our candidates in tl~6 significant events of our community: meetings, renewals, ;'futuring" ses-sions, preparations for chapter and the like. It means valuing their gifts and expertise, and accepting these when they are offered in service of the com-munity and of the Church. These men and women of today can help us in our struggle to find ways to incarnate our charism into our life and ministry and to meet the needs of our times in a realistic way~ There is a very healthy discomfort that we experience when we feel pulled in two directions, a discomfort that moves us to action, to choice. The tensions experienced by newcomers to religious life are opportunities for self-awareness, for growth and for authentic discernment of a lifetime commitment. Being aware that they exist, dealing with them in realistic ways and' soliciting the understanding and support of community members in helping candidates to live and grow with them can only be an invalu-able asset to any formation process. .~ . NOTES ~ Jean Vanier, Community and Growth: Our Pilgrimage Together (New York: Paulist Press, 1979), p. 5 I. 2 Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine (New York: Bantam Books, 1976), p. 27. 3 Essential Elements in the Church's Teaching on Religious Ltfe, n. 48. 4 lbid, n. 44. Beyond Frontiers: The Supranational Challenge of the Gospel Gerald A. Arbuckle, S.M. Well known to our readers, Father Arbuckle is the prime mover and designer of the summer workshop, sponsored Dy R~viEw Eon R~L~¢~OUS and St. Louis University's Department of Theological Studies, entitled: "Refounding Religious Life from Within: Strategies for Leadership." His previous article, "Mythology, Revitalization and the Refounding of Religious Life," appeared in the issue of January/February, 1987. Father Arbuckle's.permanent mailing address is: East Asian Pastoral Institute; P.O. Box 1815; Manila 2800; Philippines. Supra-nationalism is the ability and the willingness of individuals or groups to strive to id.entify with cultures and needs beyond the frontiers of their own country in ways that are both critical and non-exclusive. (Multiculturalism, on the other hand, is the same ability and willingness, but directed to other cultures within the boundaries of one's own country.) This identification with cultures, be it noted, is not blind or uncritical. The weaknesses, as well as the strengths, of cultures are recognized. Moreover, this identification is not exclusive. That is, supranationalists are open to still other cultures beyond those with which they are immediately con-cerned. Christ calls his followers to a basic supranationalism, They are them-selves to be reconciled with the Father through love, and they are to express this reconciliation in their relations with other peoples and cultures. With-out, this love of the Father, a gift of the Holy Spirit, the reconciling rela-tionship with those around us cannot be sustained. Selfishness and the desire for power over others will overcome us. Ultimately we are encour-aged in this struggle to be reconciled wi(h the Father and with one another 351 352 / Review for Religious, May~June, 1987 by the hope of the "new heavens arid a new earth" in the fullness of God's kingdom yet to come, "where; accordihg t6 his promise, the justice of God will reside" (2 P 3:13). " The world is fractured by ideological conflicts, pathoio~ical forms of nationalism and intercultural tensions. It is a world "groaning in travail" (Rm 8:22), desperately in need of reconciliation across and within national frontiers. ~ Inasmuch as many religious orders are stamped with an interna-tional character, the Church rightly expects of them bold evangelical initiatives in response to today's critical need for supranationalism.2 But are religious orders responding to this challenge to provide lead-ership not just to the Church but also to the world itself?. Or have some congregations settled into a comfortable, introverted type of "ecclesiastical nationalism"? What conditions are necessary for religious congregations to express in spirit and action a much-needed supranationalism? This article is an attempt to respond to such questions. I will - show how prejudice obstructs sup.ranationalism; - explain the New Testament call to supranationalism; - reflect on how religious orders have in the past responded to the challenge of supranationalism; - construct two models which religious institutes can use to mea-sure their own response to the challenge of supranationalism; - reflect on the role of ongoing conversion as an essential require-ment for supranationalism. Excessive Nationalism: the Obstacle to Supranationalism Nationalism is a complex word to define. It expresses a form of group consciousness, that is, consciousness of membership in a nation. In this lim-ited sense, nationalism is good. It gives people a sense of meaning and iden-tity, a respect for their past, the energy to work together for the common good. When, however, people begin to believe that they are superior to other peoples and cultures, then nationalism becomes excessive. People become unable to look beyond (supra) their national borders to learn from the values and experiences of other cultures. At the heart of excessive nationalism is cultural prejudice. Prejudice is an "attitude towards a person who belongs to a group simply because he belongs to that group and is therefore presumed to have the qualities ascribed to that group." 3 In brief, prejudice involves a predisposition toward a group of people that is not derived from adequate information. There are two aspects to cultural prejudice to be noted. Firstly, there is the meaning aspect or stereotype. A stereotype is ,a preformed image or picture or judgment about people, whether favorable or unfavorable: "The Beyond Frontiers / 353 Irish are prone to excessive use of alcohol." "All Italians sing beau-tifully." The second aspect is the feeling dimension. The prejudiced person sees only what he or she wants to see, even to the point of seeing things that are not there at all. The causes of prejudice are complex and many: fear of people who are different, a desire to exploit, a need to bolster one's personal and cultural self-esteem .4 Culturally prejudiced people can show excessive nationalism in one of two major ways. Firstly, they can seek to impose on "decadent and imper-fect cultures" their own "perfect" values and customs, coming to treat subject people like children---or worse. Secondly, a particularly insidious form of cultural prejudice is cultural romanticism. The foreign culture with which the individual wishes to identify is considered "perfect," and his or her culture-of-origin is thought to be thoroughly decadent. Often the romantic will seek to freeze the new culture in time, thinking any change will undermine its "perfection." This type of romanticism is alive and well, especially among foreigners working in Third World countries. Romanticism is also apt to show itself in overidentifying with nation-alist movements in those cultures or nations. Here, would-be agenis for change sometimes lose all sense of objectivity; they fail to see the violence and tragic effects of their overinvolvement in nationalist movements. Some-times more nationalistic than the locals themselves, they become severely condemnatory of the values and customs of their own cultures-of-origin.5 It is not easy for a person to become truly supranationalist. Supranationalism can only result from the ongoing personal struggle for truth and for the desire to respond to this truth. First one must face the truth about oneself: we are all prejudiced in one way or another. Self-knowledge is always extremely difficult. It also happens to be highly inconvenient, because as a result of a better knowledge of myself and my prejudices, I may have to do something about it. Human beings are highly skilled in avoiding truths about themselves; we are accomplished fugitives from our-selves. If I have the courage to discover my cultural prejudices, I then need a strong motivation to put them aside. It is much easier and simpler to ignore my prejudices! Supranationalism and the New Testament The heart of the Christian .message is that God "has reconciled us to himself through Christ" (2 Co 5:18) and his peace, a peace that can never come from mere human action (Jn 15:27), that we struggle to share with our brothers and sisters no matter what culture or nation they belong to (Rm :354 / Review for Religious, May--June, 1987 12:18). This peace, the fruit of love in the Spirit, motivates us to respect cultural differences and the just aspirations of people; it shows itself in "patience, generosity., mildness" (Ga 5:22f). It includes an openness to learn how God has worked in the lives and cultures of other peoples. There will be no jealousy for their achievements nor will there be a boast-ing over the accomplishments of one's own nation or culture (ibid v. 26). There will be ~he courage to challenge people of different cultures to face obstacles, for example, personal and social sin, that hinder or prevent them from achieving reconciliation with God and with each other. Followers of Christ know that they can avoid excessive nationalism in its various forms only if they remain truly open to the .Transcendent, allowing it to influence their lives in each one's particular cultural situation, even as they await the fullness of justice and peace ~n the world to come. Not surprisingly, Jesus directly confronted the excessive nationalism of his day, urging his followers to be supranationalists. At the time of Christ, Jews looked on Samaritans as uncouth, stupid, heretical. And Samaritans had similar views of their Jewish neighbors. As Scripture com-mentator, J. McKenzie, points out: "There was no deeper break 6f human relations in the contemporary world than the feud of Jews and Samaritans, and the breadth and depth of J~sus' doctrine of love could demand no greater act of a Jew than to accept a Samaritan as a brother."6 Those who heard Jesus speak would have been left in no doubt about the meaning of what we now call the Good Samaritan incident. The Samaritan is manifestly a supranationalist! Jesus' listeners are stunned to heai- him say "Go, do likewise!" (Lk 10:37). In a second story, this time a personal event in Christ's life, Jesus is an "international traveler" and exemplifies his own supranationalism in his relations with the Samaritan woman at the well (Jn 4). Not only does the woman experience Christian politeness for the first time, but she is told that eternal salvation is open to her through the love of the Father. Of all the early followers of Christ, Paul stands out as the model of supranationalism in evangelization. He had been a thoroughly fanatical sup-porter of Jewish culture, a rabid nationa~list, but underwent a dramatic theological and attitudinal transformation once he began to preach the Gospel in Gentile cultures. In Paul's epistles we see depicted the attitudes that must govern the evangelizeras he or she relates to different cultures. Firstly, the evangelizer must identi.fy as far as possible with the cultures of people to be e.vangelized: "I became like a Jew to the Jews in order to win the Jews. To those bound by the law I became like one who is bound (although in Beyond Frontiers / 355 fact Iam not bound by it), that I might win those bound by the law . I have made myself all things to all men in order to save at least some of them" (1 Co 9:20, 22). Secondly, identification with the aspirations of peo-pies of different cultures should be critical (Ga 5:1-6). Thirdly, the Gospel message is to be preached in its fullness; our struggles for justice and peace in this world are but the seed and the beginning of the kingdom of God here below; it will find its completion at the end of time with the resurrection of the dead and the renewal of the whole of creation (Rm 8:1 1- 21).7 Religious Life: Internationalism and Supranationalism .~ On one occasion, while doing research in a Third World village, I over-heard villagers speaking about the "Backhome Man." Each time they used the expression there would be hoots of laughter. I discovered the man who delighted them was an evangelizer from another coun.try who began sentences with the expression "Back home . . ." so often that the people nicknamed him the "Backhome Man." The evangelizer had the gift of internationalism, that is, he was prepared to live in someone else's coun-try, b.ut apparently he was slow to learn anything from the host culture. He lacked the gift of supranationalism; he was willing to give (on his terms), but not to receive. Our "Backhome Man" sadly lived a stunted religious life as well. For the true religious dedicates himself or herself totally to God, the Supreme Love. In a new and special way the religious makes himself or herself entirely over to God, to serve and honor him in and through the Church.8 The religious should seek to be an exemplary disciple of the Lord, to be one with him in his mission to the world.,The object of his. mission is the person "whole and entire, body and soul,',9 involving what we call today integral salvation. Supranationalism (and mu!ticuituralism) opens the way to this concern, for it relates to the well-being of both body and soul of the peoples of this world in their concrete reality. For this reason, because of their radical commitment to the Lord and to his Church, religious must be in the forefront in fosteringthe virtues of human solidarity and interdependence. Two questions are~to be asked: have religious congregations in the past fostered supranationalism? How are they responding to this challenge today? I will take each question in turn. Religious Life and Supranationalism before Vatican II There is no doubt about the involvement of religious congregations in internationalism over the three hundred years prior to Vatican II. Religious, 356 / Review for Religious, May--June, 1987 very often from newly formed congregations, moved into recently discov-ered countries, frequently braving, atrocious physical conditions, in order to spread the faith.~ While many individual religious aspired to identify with the cultures of the people they were evangelizing, rarely was the work of religious congregations themselves marked by the spirit of supranationalism within those countries which we now call the Third World. At the risk of grave oversimplification I will explain briefly why it was difficult for religious to express supranationalism, in evangelization. ~0 From the fifteenth century onwards, a marked inflexibility in the Church's rela-tionship with cultures, especially beyond Europe, developed. This inflexibility affected the missionary policies of religious Congregations. Prior to this period, most especially in the early centuries,o.the Church often related to cultures in remarkably flexible ways. Pope Gregory the Great's directive to Augustine of Canterbury 'in the year 601 about not destroying the temples of the gods, and,the need to place the relics of the saints in those same temples is rather symbolic of the flexibility of the period. ~ This openness, however, was not to continue; The Church became more and more culturally "Euro-centric" in its expression of the faith. In more modern times, as European colonial expansion developed, it was this Euro-centric Church that was to accompany it. As one commentator put it: "The missionaries--true children of their times--shared the intolerant and prejudiced views of the conquistadores on the native cultures and religions.''~2 The European Ch~'ch was to be planted in the new lands with-out change. The cultures of the people being evangelized were seen as unim-portant; priority was given to the conversion and salvation of individual souls: Rarely did missionaries see the need to understand local cultures-- or even at times to learn the local languages.13 There were vigorous, but eventually unsuccessful, reactions against this arrogant ecclesiastical/colonial European nationalism. From the Con-gregation of the Propagation of the Faith in 1622 there came a very force-ful condemnation of cultural prejudice: What could be more absurd than to carry France, Spain, or lt~l~,, or any other part of Europe into China? It is not this sort of thing you are to bring but rather the Faith, which does not reject or damage any people's rites and customs provided' they are not depraved . Let customs that prove to be depraved be uprooted more by hints and by silence., gradually without jolting. 14 People like the Capuchin Father Jerom Meroila in the Congo in the sev-enteenth century ~eriously endeavored to follow this advice. ~5 Jesuits in par-ticular, notably de Nobili and Ricci, led the movement for accommoda- Beyond Frontiers / 357 tion and adaptation with a flexibility characteristic of the early Church. 16 Tragically, these efforts to revitalize supranationalism within the Church were crushed with the rejection of the work of Ricci and his companions in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. In the late nineteenth century the revival of Thomistic Aristotelianism, which encouraged people to look for what is good and of God within cul-tures, sparked off a new movement that would many decades later lead to the return of the Churcl~'s early pastoral flexibility. Euro-centric prejudice in evangelizers was condemned. 17 At the same time there developed within the Church a vigorous support for the rights of all people in regard to their culture and national identity. ~8 But it would take a long time before the pas-toral implications of these emphases would be worked out. Many evangelizers yearned to revive the apostolic approach of people like Ricci, but multiple factors made it difficult for these dreams to be realized. Thus, for instance, as long as the theQlogy of the local church remained under-developed, it would be difficult to explore fully the pastoral implications of the relationship of evangelization to culture. Terms like "accommoda-tion" or "adaptation" became common in missiology. But theologically and pastorally they connoted not an exchange between the Gospel and cul-tures, but rather a process of.choosing what local value or custom could be used to express better the meaning of the faith. The local faithful, how-ever, were not to be involved in t.his process of choice. So, while the rhetoric favored flexibility, in practice the Church remained fundamentally Euro-centric in its evangelizing aims and methods. Understandably, religious life mirrored this ongoing European empha-sis. 19 This was evident in the rigidity with which Europ.ean forms and struc-tures of religious life were uncritically exposed and planted in other cul-tures. At times local vocations were not encouraged because it was thought the people were "just not ready and mature enough" to undertake the responsibilities of religious life. Moreover, the fact that Europe and America had what was thought to be an endless supply of missionary vocations removed.a good ideal of the urgency to discover what were the practical implications of the phrase "accommodating the faith to local cul-tures~" Religious congregations continued to become dramatically international, but rarely did they become supra-national. At times the internal structuring or method of governing missionary ven~ tures further reinforced the spirit and practice of the European colonialism. For example, some congregations favored the system of attaching mission-ary endeavors directly to particular provinces in Europe and America. Invari-ably, this meant that French missionaries were isolated in one part of a Review for Religious, May--June, 1987 "mission" land, Americans in another, and so on. Hence, a "little France" or a "little America" could exist in Third World countries, with no outside challenge to such assumptions of cultural superiority. In view of all these forces, therefore, it is not surprising that indigenous forms of religious life have rarely developed in the Third World; the mode.Is remain overwhelmingly First World in design.2° Reiigious Life and Supranationalism after Vatican II With Vatican II, and with subsequent reflection, religious life has been challenged to'its very roots by a revitalized theology of evangelization and of the local church. The relationship that should e~ist between the Gospel and cultures has been clarified. Evangelization is to be a "living exchange between the Church and the diverse cultures of people:''2t The Church, which ~s itself a culture, must be prepared, to chahge and develop new insights into how the Gospel is to be preached through a process of exchange and dialogue with the people being evangelized. This exchange process is what is now called inculturation. The expressions accommodation and adaptation do not quite convey this emphasis on exchange. Rather they imply that the Church gives to cul-tures, but does not receive. As historical expressions they were found to be dated; hence, the new word inculturation was developed in order to high-light the importance of exchange.2z Evangelization is not to be directed to the soul alone, but to the person--"whole and entire, body and soul.''23 "What mhtters," declares Paul VI, "is to evangelize man's culture and cultures [not in a purely decorative way, as it were, by applying a thin veneer, but in a vital way, in depth and right to their very roots].''z4 The search for justice in this world is not something secondary to evangelization, but it is a constituent part of the mission of the Church.25 However, as was pointed out above, the Gospel, and therefore evangelization, can never be exclusively identified with this or that culture, or with the pursuit of justice in this world alone. Evangelization must include the "prophetic proclamation of a hereafter, man's profound and definitive calling, in both continuity and discontinuity with the present sit-uation: beyond time and history, beyond the transient reality of this world ¯ . . beyond man himself, whose true destiny is not restricted to his tem-poral aspect but will be revealed in the future life.''26 In brief, evangelization must call people to a life of evangelical supranationalism. These emphases have serious ramifications for the religious who is an evangelizer. The evangelizer's task is to facilitate the dialogue between cul-ture and the Gospel. The religious must prophetically call people to this dialogue first, by the witness of his or her evangelical example, and then, Beyond Frontiers / 359 by the preaching of the Word of God. The dialogue to be aimed at is not merely intellectual. Rather it must be a faith interaction in which people are invited to interior conversion. To quote Paul VI again: "The Church evangelizes when she seeks to convert, solely through ttie divine power of the Message she proclaims, both the personal and collective consciences of people, the activities in which they engage, and the lives and concrete milieus which are theirs."zv Conversion is not brought about through author-itarian dictation, nor is it achieved through various forms of cultural romanticism. The religious, who in his orher zeal for :social justice overidentifies with nationalism or the protest movements of people against oppression cannot prophetically proclaim that "man's profound and definitive calling . . . [is] beyond time and history, beyond the transient reality of this world." Such a religious falls victim to the insidious power of cultural romanticism. Especially in parts of the Third World in which there is so much oppres-sion by the rich over the poor, massive injustices and corruption, the con-cerned religious is severely tempted to fall into a form of romanticism. Paulo Freire, the brilliant South American educator., has warned people to avoid the trap of romanticism. In order to remain objective and helpful to the oppressed, those who would be change-agents must, he says, undergo a profound rebirth. They must rise above the desire to overcome oppressors through the use of the same force that they used to subjugate the poor.28 The evangelizer, too, must at all times maintain the objectivity that is necessary to proclaim the fullness of the Gospel message with its power for salvation. St. Paul reminds us: "It was for liberty that Christ freed us. So stand firm, and do not take on.yourselves the yoke of slavery a second time" (Ga. 5:1). If the temptation in the past was for evangelizers to fall into the trap of Euro-centric cultural evangelization, then today's special temptation is to become slaves for "a second time" through cultural romanticism. Both forms of slavery obstruct our prophetic freedom. Religious specially should commit themselves to fulfill St. Paul's call for Christians to be ambassadors of reconciliation (2 Co 5:20). If religious overidentify with political parties, pressure groups or nationalist move-ments in the name for social justice, they jeopardize their prophetic role as reconcilers in Christ of all peoples--the oppressed and the oppressors. The chance to witness to the transcendent love of the Father for all is in danger. For example, if I as a religious join a political party, I become inevitably cut off in various ways from other sectors of society I seek to evangelize. I cease to be free to act credibly as an ambassador of reconcil-iation between all groups within that society. This fact helps to explain 360 / Review for Religious, May--June, 1987 John Paul II's insistence that politics should normally be left to lay people. In his address to priests in San Salvador (March 6, 1983) he said: "Remem-ber, my dear brothers, that--as I said to the priests and religious in Mexico~you~are hOtsocial directors, political leaders, or officials of a tem-poral power . " Religious are rather to foster among the laity a com-mitment to witness to the Gospel in the secular world as directors, leaders and officials. Though excessive nationalism is much less a temptation to evangelizers in the First World than in the Third, nonetheless these can still easily fall into other forms of cultural romanticism. For example, religious may become so involved in maintenance work in dioceses that they forget their prophetic and innovative role. Or, in their zeal to solve social problems, religious may turn to secular methods and values alone, ignoring or downgrading the supernational importance. We come to the second question: Are religious congregations respond-ing to the challenge given them by the Church today? Only through a process of discernment and reflection can each congre-gation. respond to this question. However, in order to aid this process I will offer two extreme polar models of religious congregations. These models can help religious to measure their own behavior and that of their institutes. It would be rare indeed if any particular congregation perfectly fitte~l either of ,the models described. Models in anthropological analysis are simple, abstract representations of human~' experience and interactions which are often highly complex in real life. Models are constructed~ to he!p under-standing, and to do so they emphasize major themes or characteristics and overlook details. It is up to the reader or researcher to modify, refine-~or even reject--models in light of his or her experience. Model 1: Internationalism/Faint Supranationalism ~ Anthropologists have discovered a type of society that is organized on the basis of segmentation.29 The society is divided up into segments for a variety of reasons, but these segments are not permanently divided, since they are united at other levels to form new and more inclusive segments when certain common needs require this. Total unity is very fragile and, like all levels of unity at any stage in the society, it disintegrates once the reason for the unity disappears. In brief, there are factors within the soci-ety that encourage people to form opposing groups, but there are counterbalancing factors that draw people in these groups together at other levels. Suspicion or potential/actual conflict or feuds divide the segments Beyond Frontiers / 361 Figure 1 Model I. Internationalism/Faint Supranationalism Factors Conducive to Internationalism/Supranationalism Constitutions/Mission Statements: -rhetoric favors supranationalism Commitment to supranationalism: -Weak in congregation Factors Conducive to Provincialism/Segmentation Commitment to provincial boundaries strong: Central Government: General Chapter: -symbol of unity; -rhetoric favors supranationalism General Government: -symbol of unity/internationalism -supplies bureaucratic needs, for example, dispensation --charism research Interprovincial-Regional Cooperation: -weak: last resort Apostolates: -in Third World for vocations/sur-vival. Formation: -international/interprovincial only in extreme need -inward looking vision -prophetic figures marginalized Provincial Government: -commitment to survival of prov-ince as the priority -suspicious of outside "interference," for example, General Government Apostolates: -Identification with diocesan main-tenance works -prophetic role weak -if clerical-religious, clericalism strong -weak involvement in multiculturalism Formation: -poor screening; concern for numbers -no training for multiculturalism/ supranationalism and are put aside only when common needs demand unity for survival. A feud can be defined as relations of mutual animosity among intimate groups in which a resort to violence is anticipated on both sides.3° The violence does not have to be physical; it can be verbal. Past injustices or misunderstandings are recalled to remind all concerned that the "out- 362 / Review for Religious, May--June, 1987 group" simply cannot be trusted to work with the "in-group." There may be an official leader in such a society, but the real power rests in the various segments, the lowest segment having the most power over its members. Oft-repeated rhetoric supportive of total unity is apt to so confuse the observer that it is thought that real unity exists, when, in fact, such is far from being the case. In Model ! of religious congregations that I am proposing the empha-sis is on internationalism, with a faint acceptance of supranationalism. A congregation of this type has the characteristics of the segmentary society or culture just described. In Figure 1, the major qualities of a segmentary congregation have been summarized. The official rhetoric is often power-fully supranationalist, as in general chapter documents or mission state-ments, but the ~-eality just as strongly contradicts this rhetoric. Internationalism exists inasmuch as some members live and work in for-eign lands, such as missionaries and general administrators. There may be a growing interest in the Third World countries inspired by the congrega-tion's rhetoric about the call to be at the service of the poor, but the really operative force would be the desire for vocations to keep the provinces and the congregation alive. The emphasis of recruitment is on numbers, not on the quality of the screening methods or the formation given. The formation remains culturally Euro-centric and paternal; the local cultures and their needs are ignored. Inculturation simply does not exist. Loyalty in the congregation imagined in this model is first and fore-most to the province to which one belongs, not to the congregation or its spirit.Whoever encourages congregational supranationalism would be thought a "traitor" to the province.3~ Cooperation exists between the prov-inces and with the general administration only when it is absolutely nec-essary- and even then fo~: the advantage primarily of the province. The gen-eral administration, for example, would be able to staff congregation-wide projects only through a process of bargaining, not dialogue. A province is prepared to release difficult personnel for such work, but not talented mem-bers, for the province's first obligation is to its own survival. "Talented people simply should not be released for work outside the province" is the overriding assumption. At international meetings of the congregation, pro-vinces look first to their own rights and their interests, not to those of the congregation. Suspicion and feud-like behavior colors the province's rela. tions with the general administration and with other provinces. Stories of past interference and misunderstandings on the part of general officers are gleefully recounted in order to maintain in the province a distrust of "out. siders." Beyond Frontiers" Apostolically, provinces in this model are strong supporters of main-tenance rather than of mission within the dioceses in which they work. A province takes its bearings all too exclusively from the internal ecclesiastical and socioeconomic structure of the countries where its apostolates are situated.32 There is little or no prophetic challenging of dioceses or diocesan administrations. Consequently, there is little room for other issues such as justice or multiculturalism/supranationalism. Individ-uals wh0do show interest are thought to be "somewhat odd," or follow-ing a "hobby," or just "wasting time." On the other hand, where involve-ment in the social apostolate is encouraged, its relationship with the Transcendent may be deliberately played down "lest one's identification with the Gospel hinder one's identification with those who struggle for social justice." In this model clericalism would be a dominant force in clerical insti-tutes. (Clericalism connotes "an authoritarian style of ministerial leader-ship, a rigidly hierarchical world view, and a virtual identification of the holiness and grace of the Church with the clerical state and, thereby, with the cleric himself.''33) Consequently, within community there would be little fraternity with lay members of the congregation who would be looked down upon as inferior and as "servants of the priests." Lay involvement in apostolic works of the congregation would be poorly encouraged. On the other hand, religious who might act against clericalism would overidentify with worldly values and with the customs of the ambient cul-ture on the pretext that this will "bring us closer to the people we are evangelizing." As regards the screening and formation of candidates, the approach in such a congregation would be colored by all the above characteristics. Can-didates would be encouraged to join the province if they are seen to have the qualities that would "fit them in" to the overriding inward-looking, weakly prophetic ethos of the province. Candidates would be jealously iso-lated from contact with those from other provinces lest they develop "dan-gerous ideas," supranationalism, or the feeling of belonging to a "con-gregation wider than the province." Formators of other provinces could not be trusted to direct the formation of candidates because they might decide that the latter have "no vocation to religious life." Hence, interprovincial and international formation programs would be severely discouraged. Model 2. Internationalism/Strong Supranationalism In Figure 2, I set out emphases that are seen in congregations which approximate the second model, Internationalism/Strong Supranationalism. 364 / Review for Religious, May--June, 1987 The members of such a religious congregation commit themselves primar-ily to the mission of Christ and the Church according to the insights of the founding figure. Administrative structures such as provinces exist to facil-itate the response of the congregation itself to the mission of Christ. The spiritual and human welfare of members of the congregation is considered of paramount imporiance. The congregation's administrators are alive to the ctiallenge given them by Paul VI that they take up the "double task of inspiring and innovating in order to make structures evolve, so as to adapt them to the real needs" of mission and personnel.34'Provinces relate to one another and to the general administration on the basis of their common mission and according to subsidiar{ty, dialogue and discernment. Apostolates are selected according to definite objective criteria: the pri-ority of needs in the universal Church and local churches, the mission of the Church, the charism of the congregation and the resources available. The congregation hesitates to accept parishes unless there is scope for mis-sionary and creative pastoral action. No matter what apostolate is selected, members of~ the congregation will attitudinally be influenced in all they do by the need to call the People of God to multiculturalism/supranationalism. Given the priority of needs internationally today, congregations may strive, where possib!e, to witness to supranationalism by establishing international teams. For these teams to be effective they need to fulfill various require-ments. Firstly, those selected must be capable of living internationally according to the principles of supranationalism. Not everyone has the abil-ity to live and work on an international team; there can be heavy d6mands on the psychological and spiritual resources of individuals as they are called to face up to the requirements of constant adaptation to new cultural con-ditions. Secondly, members of teams must be given the chance for adequate preparation spiritually and humanly in order that they can fit into challeng-ing international and intercultural situations. This means not only the acquisi-tion of linguistic skills, but also an awareness of key anthropological insights into the nature and power of culture, culture change, the role of catalysts in culture change, and so forth. In their training programs mem-bers will need to have adequate periods of living in cultures very different from their own. They will need to experience the shock of being "at sea" in a culture that is unfamiliar to them; they will need to discover for them-selves the richness of being humble and dependent on other people whose culture they do not know or understand. Their own cultural biases and preju-dices must be challenged, otherwise an insidious ethnocentrism will govern their relations with other team members and the peoplethey hope to serve Beyond Frontiers / 365 Figure 2 Model 2. Internationalism/Strong Supranationalism Loyalty: primarily to the Congregation which is at the service of the mission of Christ and Church. Apostolates: based on -priority of needs in universal Church (internationalism/supranationalism) and local churches (multiculturalism). -charism of congregation -available resources Administration: -at service of mission -provinces and general administration relate on basis of common mission/subsidiarity/ dialogue-discernment Formation: Initial: On _going. -based on mission/charism -emphasis on union with Christ for cre-ative response to demands of change. -training for internationalism/ multiculturalism/supr-anationalism -revitalization of commitment to: -Christ -Congregation -creativity/adapability in change pastorally. Thirdly, in the structuring of an international team, as far as is possi-ble no one culture should predominate. If one cultural group does predom-inate, it is likely to over-influence attitudes and policies of the group.35 If a culturally balanced team is not possible, the predominant cultural group must be especially sensitive to avoid obstructing the emergence of 366 / Review for Religious, May-~June, 1987 supranationalism in the team. From history, such international teams as I have described are apt to foster vigorous creativity pastorally and in religious life. As Raymond Hostie notes: Basic to all institutions that became remarkable for their explosive expan-sion is an initial heterogeneous core. Cistercians, Norbertines, Dominicans, Carmelites, Jesuits and Piarists, all emerged from groups whose members belonged to three nationalities, or even four or five. The initial group of Franciscans, CamillianS, Brothers of the Christian Schools and the Salesians was composed of men of very disparate social rank and cultural level. Heterogeneity is a necessary condition for activating effective fermentation.36 Initial formation in Model 2 is dictated by the demands of mission and the charism of the congregation. Hence, the programs are structured to foster in candidates a spirit of adaptability to constant change.37 Spiritual formation will be aimed at uncovering within candidates their own inner poverty and their ongoing need of strength from Christ: "He who loves his life loses it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it for eter-nal life" (Jn 12:25). The process of initial formation is a delicate one requir-ing skilled people to accompany candidates through the journey of self-discovery. Though the formation program is spread over several years and may well involve experiences in different cultural situations, there will be formators to whom candidates are clearly accountabl~. In Model 2, forma-tion is not a haphazard arrangement. As with initial formation, the ongoing formation programs are structured on the basis of the needs of mission. Religious need oppor-tunities to revitalize their commitment to Christ and to their congregational charism. They need space to reflect on whether or not their commitment to multiculturalism/supranationalism is rhetoric or reality. Over time, reli-gious may have uncritically absorbed negative values from the culture in which they work; little by little their supranationalism and pastoral creativ-ity may have been undermined. In this model it is assumed that adminis-trative structures are so flexible that superiors are able to spot quickly the individual needs of evangelizers and offer appropriate assistance. This ser-vice to evangelizers is part of a much wider task of administrations, namely, the ongoing need to foster evaluation of the apostolic relevance and effectiveness of the teams. In this model apostolates aie hot permitted~ to drift without goals and without effective evaluations. Conversion to Supranationalism In J.R. Toikien's The Hobbit: Or There and Back Again, Bilbo Beyond Frontiers / 367 Baggins initially turns down an invitation to go on a journey. He is too com-f0rtable in his way of life to be bothered with the trials of an adventure. He finally accepts the challenge and even begins to enjoy it. The cultures and the people he meets both disturb and intrigue him. But he soon tires of the constant need to adapt to new challenges, so he turns for home and retreats from the world of adventure singing:."Feet that wandering have gone, Turn at last'to home afar. Eyes . . . Look at last on meadows green.-38 Most of us can identify with Bilbo. We commit ourselves to multiculturalism/supranationalism, that is to the preaching of God's love across the frontiers of cultures. Yet we are tempted at times to weaken our efforts, to seek the security of our own cultures and our prejudices. Inevitably we will give way to these temptations, thus losing our apostolic effectiveness, if we seek to rely on merely human motivation. There is needed that inner, ongoing conversion that comes~from being a new creation in Christ (2 Co 5:17). Only in the ongo.ing response.to this new life will we have the inner resources to become "all things to all men" (1 Co 9:22). The divine love within us gives us the evangelical muscle to keep struggling to be open to other p~oples "~nd their cultures: "Love is patient; love is kind. Love is not jealous, it does not l~ut on airs, it is not snobbish . There is no limit to love's forbearance, to its trust, its hope, its power to endure" (! Co 13:4,6). St. Paul uses the analogy of a runner when he explains the process of ongoing conversion. To stop runn.ing for the Lord is to fall back into purely human insights and comforts (1 Co 9:24-27). Constant discipline 6f the whole person is required: "Athletes deny themselves all sorts of things: . . . What I do is discipline my own body and master it; for fear that after having preached to others I myself ~.hould be rejected" (ibid). The discipline of conversion also involves the Struggle .to identify one's own cultural prejudices, and the battle to remove them. It is a never-ending struggle and battle! I recall a fine evangelizer working outside his culture-of-origin commenting: '~I th6.ught for years I was not prejudiced. I believedI deeply loved these people. One day ! discovered that I was highly prejudiced and this shocked me intense]y. I could get no good ser-vice in the local shops, the car was slow to be fixed, letters were not reach-ing me fast enough, the food tasted horrible! I found myself complaining aloud about the people, and I used all the stereotypes about them that I had thought I had long rejected: 'These silly people--they are lazy, deceitful. If only I was back home where things are really done rightly!' " This evangelizer is an honest person. He courageously recognized' his prejudices as grave obstacles to his supranational work of evangelization, and courageously struggled to remove them. He understands that self- 361~ /Review for Religious, May--June, 1987 discipline must be ongoing. When Yahweh called Abraham, he summoned him to leave the warmth of his familiar surroundings to begin a life's journey: "Go forth from the land of your kinsfolk and from your father's house to a land that I will show you" (Gn 12:1). R(ligious are to live out the same kind of call in a' spirit of faith. Bilbo, when he started out on his journey, sang "The world is ahead and home behind," but finally rejoiced when he could sing "The world is behind and home ahead." For we religious, unlike Bilbo, the ~hailenges of the world ahead are always with us; we can never say that we run out6f apostoli.c challenges or adventures. And our home is also ahead of u~. We await in hope for the ne, w Jerusalerrl (Ga 4:26). We can resist making this world our substitute Jerusalem only if we have Abraham's spirit of detachment and faith. Detachment comes from discov-ering in oneself one's own chaotic powerlessness to be supranationalist with-oiat the love and power of Christ. If we recognize our own inner helplessness, then we can say with'St. Paul: "And' so I willingly boast of my weaknesses instead, that the power of Christ may rest upon me . . . for when I am powerless, it is then that I am strong" (2 Co 12:9f.). Summary With St. Paul we say: "I do not run like a man who loses sight of the finish line" (1 Co 9:26). The ultimate finish line, in which there will be perfect justice and love, is to.be found when "the new heavens and the new earth" emerge at the end of time (2 P 3: I'3). In this waiting time we strive in faith to express this justice and love towards different peoples and cultures: "There does not exist among you Jew or Greek, slave or freeman, male or female. All, are one in Christ Jesus" (Ga 3:28). Religious esl~ecially commit themselves to this vision and its realiza-tion. In their lives and preachiflg they call people to look beyond this or that pressure group, political party, cultural group, tO the needs and insights of other people and cultures.39 At the same time they challenge people to avoid an unrealistic and ~i'~ous search for ~ perfect world here below, "for the world as we know it° is passing away" (I Co 7:31). Religious,. when confronted by the enormity of evil around them will be tempted to discouragement, skepticism or even the recklessness of despair. They will bc tempted to retreat into the security of their cultural prejudices and feel-ings of superiority. Recourse to merely human power, even violence, in order to achieve human justice may look very attractive. However, the moment a religious gives way to these temptations, he or she ceases to be apostolically supranationalist --indeed, apostolically effective. Beyond Frontiers I 369 NOTES ~ See John Paul II, Redemptor Hominis, 1979, par. 8. z See On Mutual Relations between Bishops and Religious, Congregations for Religious and Bishops, Rome, 1978, par. 12. 3 G. AIIport, The Nature of Prejudice (New York: Doubleday, 1958), p. 8. 4 See also D.L. Shields, Growing Beyond Prejudices (Mystic, Conn.: Twenty-Third Publications, 1986), pp. 149-176. 5 At times anthropologists, too, are guilty of romanticism. See G.E. Marcus and M.M. Fischer, Anthropology as Cultural Critique: An Experimental Moment in the Human Sciences (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1986), passim. 6 Dictionary of the Bible (London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1986), p. 766. 7 See Congregation for Doctrine of the Faith, "Instruction on Christian Freedom and Liberation" in L'Osservatore Romano, 14 April, 1986, p. 5, par. 58. 8 See Lumen Gentium, par. 3. 9 Gaudium et Spes, par. 3. ~0 See G.A. Arbuckle, "lnculturation and Evangelization: Realism or Romanticism" in D.L. Whiteman (ed.), Missionaries, Anthropologists and Cultural Change (Williamsburg: Studies in Third World Societies, 1985), pp. 171-207. ~ See "Gregory's Counsel to Mellitus with Regard to the Heathen Temples in England" in A.J. Mason (ed.), The Mission of St. Augustine to England (Cambridge: CUP, 1879), pp. 89ff. t2 G. Voss, "Missionary Accommodation" in Missionary Academic Study No. 2 (New York: P. Faith, 1946), p. 17. ~3 See P. Duignan, "Early Jesuit Missionaries: A Suggestion for Further Study," in American Anthropologist, Vol. 6, pp. 725ff. 14 See S. Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith, "Instructio ad Vicariorum Apostolicorum ad Regna Synarum Tonchini et Cocinnae Proficiscentium," in Collectanea Sacrae Congregationis de P. Fide (Rome, 1907), Vol. I, p. 42. ~5 See M.D. Jeffreys, "Some Rules of Directed Culture Change under Roman Catho-licism" in American Anthropologist, Vol. 58, 1956, pp. 723f. ~6 See C.W. Allan, Jesuits at the Court of Peking (Arlington: University Publications of America, 1975), passim; and P. Duignan, op. cit., pp; 726ff. t7 See Pius XII, "Princeps Pastorum" in (ed.)R. Hickey, Modern Missionary Doc-uments and Africa (Dublin: Dominican Publications, 1982), p. 143. ~8 See Pius XII, AIIocution 6 Dec. 1953, in Acta

Issue 68.4 of the Review for Religious, 2009. ; Theology and Life Religion; Life Models ,Exemplars of Faith Sharing ,Experience QUARTERLY 68.4 2009 Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we try to live according to charisms of Catholic religious life. As Pope Paul Vl said, our way of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-633-4610 ¯ Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Maih reviewrfr@gmail.com ¯ Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 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. ©200~ Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy 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 distribution, 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. ~ gournalof Ca~hohc ~pirituah~y eview for religious Editor Associate Editor Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming sJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Eugene Hensell OSB Mary Ann Foppe TracT Gramm Judy Sharp Paul Coutinho sJ Martin Erspamer OSB Margaret Guider OSF Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD QUARTERLY 68.4 2009 contents prisms 340 Prisms 342 353 theology and life Christian Existence and Theology's Relevance Randall S. Rosenberg sketches how the theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar challenges us to ask whether theology is not simply about understanding, but about an understand-ing that includes aesthetic-dramatic encounters. How You Eat Matters A. Paul Dominic SJ draws the implications from sacrifice, meals, and human eating in the Hindu, Jewish, and Christian traditions that all human eating is truly meant to be a religious act. Questions for Personal and Group Reflection 364 379 religious life models Opening a New Window: Fifteen Years after the FORUS Study Patricia Wittberg SC proposes that current religious , congregations consider encouraging social-movement organizations (SMOs) as viable versions for future religious life. Revisiting Religious Identity William P. Clark OMI carefully reflects on how Vatican I! presented religious life and brought a freshness once again to the special vocation offered by God to those consecrated by religious profession. " Questions for Personal and Group Reflection Review for Religious 389 exemplars of faith ~ Encounters Early and Late: John Bosco and Paul Leo J. Heriot SDB draws upon the experience of St. Paul and of St. John Bosco to show how God may communicate with us, telling us to find him in our contemplative awareness of others and ourselves. 395 On Hilda of Whitby Sister Hilda Kleiman OSB reflects on the origins and spirituality behind her new religious name, Hilda, which means "Battle Maiden." 4O4 411 sharing experience ~ World Youth Day and Religious Life William Prospero SJ describes how World Youth Day promotes consecrated vocations by providing young Catholics with a joyful experience of living the evangelical counsels. Marriage and Celibacy: Rivals or Complements? Benny Phang OCarm works from an insight from John Paul lI's Theology of the Body to see the complementarity of the vocations of marriage and celibacy rather than viewing them as rivals. 427 432 443 departments ~ ,~ ~ Scripture Scope: Praying the Psalms with an Elephant in the Room Book Reviews 2009 Index 339 68.4 2009 prisms I n early January 2009, I was told that I had less than a year to live. As I come to write these reflections in our final issue of the year 2009, I share various reac-tions that have been part of the landscape over the past months. My first response to the doctor's prognosis ff)r pancreatic cancer was that it is a gift to be told that one has so many months to live and that an end is in sight. The doctor, of course, went on to give options. I could have an operation, and it would likely add some months. I could also have the operation, followed by chemotherapy/radia-tion, and it would add some months and likely some years. The doctor wanted to give me some time to think about the options, but I immedi-ately agreed with his own stated preference that I would undergo the operation and follow up chemotherapy. It seemed that medically I was in a place where I should follow the biblical injunc-tion, "choose life." The operation seemed to be successful in removing the visible cancer, and the six-month- long chemotherapy treatment has been an experimental study program including a vaccine that eliminates radiation. I have fin-ished the program as of the publication of this issue. Now I live within a wait-and-see time of measurement and ~esting. Revie~v for Religious November remains a church time to remember the dead and remind ourselves of our own mortality. I have been feeling even more attuned to the reality of my own personal dying throughout these past months so that it is easy to celebrate November liturgy. It is nice to be put "on notice"--which is how I consider the identi-fication of my cancer. The likelihood of dying is just made more real and, as it were, within reach. It allows me time to reflect and pray how I face this kind of time, what attitude I want to take, and how I want to use the time I have. It does not seem fearsome or dark. In fact, it seems full of surprises of how God wants to meet me in unexpected ways, sometimes not initially pleasing to me. I seem to be taught a lot about powerlessness, patience, and the goodness of strangers. I also believe strongly in the efficaciousness of the prayer support of others. Advent is a church time of looking forward to new life and especially of our life forever with God. It con-eludes with Christmas, a celebration of how God, in Christ, enters into our human life, never to let it go. Throughout 2009 with all its medical focus, I have con-tinued to be blessed with finding new life and I again look forward to entering into Advent with greater ¯ appreciation. Christmas will be God's own gift to me of celebrating the gift of human life for however many more months and years God intends. With celebrating Christmas, it is good to remember that we were all born to be living a life forever with God, and that remains my hope too. David L. Fleming SJ 341 The Review for Religious Advisory Board and Editorial Staff wish all of our readers a most blessed Advent and Christmas season. 68.4 2009 RANDALL S. ROSENBERG Christian Existence and Theology's Relevance theology and life 342 "Ihe Swiss thinker Hans Urs yon Balthasar is something of an enigma. He has been called the greatest Catholic theologian of the 20th century. He is the inspiration behind many believers who understand themselves as "orthodox" or "solid" Catholics. His work has been seen as an example of greater integration of spirituality and theology. He is the author to whom Jon Sobrino SJ refers in his reflec-tions on the "faith of Christ," a controver-sial position which has been criticized by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. His ideas about gender complementarity and women's ordination have angered many. Some scholars, with strong Thomist commitments, have vigorously criticized his Christology and ¯ soteriology. Other scholars besides Sobrino are Randall S. Rosenberg is assistant professor of religion and philosophy at Fontbonne University (a school spon-sored by the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet); 6800. Wydown Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63105. Review for Religious beginning to make use of his thought to meet the con-cerns of liberation and political theology. My plan here is not to analyze all these currents. Rather, I intend to look at Balthasar's distinctive ideas about the aesthetic-dramatic constitution of Christian reality. He sees God's revelation, God's self-disclosure, as occurring first in aesthetic and dramatic forms, and he sees Christians as called to be co-actors in this "theo-drama" through liturgical ritual and a distinctive way of living. A Generational Concern Some of my attraction to Balthasar is probably gen-erational. I was born ten years after the Second Vatican Council. Although my childhood was shaped by a won-derful Catholic parish and school, my contemporaries and I still experienced what William Portier has called "the dissolution of the American Catholic subcul-ture." Not that I particularly desire a restoration of the good old days; for many, those days were apparently not so good. But it seemed to me, as I began to read Balthasar, that he was not only restoring something of the Christian vision's rich particularity and oddness, but also pointing out to people how beautifully and dra-matically that vision has enhanced all kinds of human lives, the great variety of saints most eminently. As he writes in Love Alone Is Credible, "Lovers are the ones who know most about God; the theologian must listen to them" (p. 12). It was exciting to discover a thinker who brought into his theology the witness of holy people and great texts not normally found in systematic theologians' reflection: Th~r~se of Lisieux, John.of the Cross, Gerard Manley Hopkins, and Dante, to name just a few. 68.4 2009 Rosenberg * Cbristian Existence and Tbeology's Relevance Balthasar preserved what he called a "kneeling theology," without downplaying the use of reason in Christian life. And yet this same thinker also engaged seriously the thought of Hegel, Nietzsche, and Heidegger. In other words--Rodney Howsare has shown this in his book Baltbasar and Protestantism: The Ecumenical Implications of His Theological Style--Balthasar's theological vision had room both for God's revelation in Christ and for the works of reli-gious- philosophical scholars as legitimate moments in under-standing and present-ing Christian truth. Balthasar preserved what he called a "kneeling theology," without downplaying the use of reason in Christian life. His enviable dis-play of both loving devotion and a critical engagement with modernity prompts me to see him as embodying in important ways the dual task of ressourcement and aggior-namento set by Vatican II. Christian Existence as Theo-Drama The aesthetic-dramatic nature of Christian life is shown in the Scriptures. Moses and Paul experienced, aesthetically, the beauty or glory of God in the burn-ing bush and on the road to Damascus. These aesthetic encounters were also dramatic, and they led to the rest of their lives' being high drama as well. It is a com-mon feature of the Jewish and Christian Scriptures that experiences of God are not just holy feelings; they have a vocational, missionary purpose. The first part of Balthasar's multivolume trilogy, The Glory of the Lord, describes the way we first encounter the phenomenon Review for Religious of divine revelation as beautiful. The second part of the trilogy, Theo-Drama, recognizes that God's revelation is not something we merely look at; rather, we are drawn into the drama of revelation and are called to respond. Robert Barron nicely captures Balthasar's aesthetic-dra-matic emphasis: Christianity--like painting, baseball, and philoso-phy- is a world, a form of life. And, like those other worlds, it is first approached because it is perceived as beautiful. A youngster walks onto a baseball dia-mond because he finds the game splendid, and a young artist begins to draw because she finds the artistic universe enchanting. Once the beauty of Christianity has seized a devotee, she will long to submit herself to it, entering into its rhythms, its institutions, its history, its drama, its visions and activities. And then, having practiced it, having worked it into her soul and flesh, she will know it. The movement, in short, is from the beautiful (it is splendid!) to the good (I must play it!) to the true (it is right). In my own encounter with Balthasar, I have most appreciated his dramatic emphasis. In the first volume of his breathtaking five-volume Theo-Drama, Balthasar gives attention to the drama of human existence by using writers like Shakespeare, George Bernanos, Bertolt Brecht, Eugene Ionesco, and even the American Arthur Miller in a kind of prolegomenon to his understanding of Christian existence as "theodramatic." His range of reference to Christian, non-Christian, and even anti- Christian dramatists is astonishing. He uses the theater to illuminate the risk and gravity of human life, the catastrophes and tensions that constitute our existence, and the finite time span within which we must struggle for the good, under judgment and in the face of death. The theater can offer an opening to people's encoun- 68.4 2009 Rosenberg * Christian Existence and Theology'$ Relevance 346 ter with revelation. Balthasar's theodramatic approach employs the metaphor of the world stage. As actors in history, human beings share in the Son's mission, under the Holy Spirit's direction. Just as an actor's role in a theatrical drama constitutes a limited part of the play for a particular purpose, the finite lives of persons who share in the mission of Christ, no matter their life span, dis-close meaning that is relevant for the whole of history. On a personal note, I have appreciated Balthasar's dramatic treatment of the tragic in human existence. I have made my own the following remark of Rowan Williams: "What I found in Balthasar's work was an extraordinary depth of contemplative understand-ing, along with vivid awareness of the tragic quality of human existence--the hellishness of humanity and God's involvement in it--which resonated very deeply with me." Ever since I was a child, I have been par-ticularly sensitive to this tragic dimension, a disposition that has been heightened by my wife's daily work with children who suffer from cancer. The problem of evil as it manifests itself in sickness, natural disasters, random acts of violence, war, oppression, and genocide is never far from my mind. The late British theologian Donald MacKinnon, noting that Balthasar rarely treats the horror of the Holocaust directly, adds that "the nervous ten~ion of the whole argument witnesses to the author's passion-ate concern to present the engagement of God with his world in a way that refuses to turn aside from the over-whelming, pervasive reality of evil." Balthasar does not paper over the pathos of the real world, a pathos full of darkness and ambiguity. For him, God, in the incarna-tion and passion of Jesus, "steps to his opponent's side and, from within, helps him reach justice and freedom. Review for Religious Hnitude, time, and death are not negated: they are given a new value in a way that is beyond our comprehension. Indeed, even what is hostile to God, in all its profound abysses, is not abandoned; God does not turn his back on it: it is taken over and reworked." Balthasar never taught academic theology at a uni-versity. He spent many years, however, as a university chaplain. In the Switzerland of the 1940s this kind of work was largely cultural. Balthasar the chaplain spent his time giving lectures, in the evening debating in various student societies, and giving retreats. To borrow John W. O'Malley SJ's useful catego-ries from his Four Cultures of the West, Balthasar's thought more resembles cultures three and four--"Poetry, Rhetoric, and the Common Good" and "Art and Performance"-- than it does culture two--"The Academy and the Professions." O'Malley's remarks on Erasmus could be said about Balthasar: "He felt he could criticize Scholastic theology because he had an alternative to offer: a return to the more literary and rhetorical style of the Fathers. That was the 'ancient and genuine' the-ology, quite different from the 'modern' theology. It was genuine because it was drawn directly from the sacred texts and because it had led to a 'theological life.' It touched the heart and centered on the few truths that were essential to Christianity rather than on the second-ary issues the Scholastics pursued" (p. 160). Balthasar once remarked that his study with the Jesuits, largely in Neo-Scholastic mode, was a "grim struggle with what men had made out of the glory of revelation." He Balthasar never taught academic theology ,at a university. 68.4 2009 Rosenberg * Christian Existence and Tbeology's Relevance 348 ~ "could not endure this presentation of the Word of God and wanted to lash out with the fury of Samson," tear "down the whole temple," and bury himself "beneath the rubble." It is often true that Balthasar's mode of presentation resembles a patristic sermon more than a scholastic treatise. In my recent experiences of presenting papers, giv-ing academic lectures, and doing job interviews, it has become evident that this aesthetic-dramatic emphasis genuinely excites scholars and ordinary laypeople. This emphasis could also be said to be Balthasar's greatest shortcoming as a "systematic" theologian. He is called "unsystematic" by those who argue for the indispens-ability of a more scientifically or theoretically con-structed theology in the manner of Thomas Aquinas. Let me address both sentiments. On the one hand, I am convinced that Balthasar's aesthetic-dramatic emphasis nurtures an appreciation for the inexhaustible mystery that resides at the heart of Christian revelation. He offers a richly symbolic and imaginative approach--one that fosters better Christian living, namely, the dramatic artistry needed for fulfill-ing our own unique missions. That is, his theology can give momentum to the religious feelings and beliefs that help us accomplish good in the particular circumstances of our lives. On the other hand, the aesthetic-dramatic emphasis is not always helpful when one does "system-atic theology" in order to answer the further questions that arise out of one's aesthetic-dramatic, liturgical, or devotional life. Balthasar's theology, besides being eclectic, has a contemplative emphasis that prefers to let "paradox" be the answer, rather than carefully working out a set of terms and relations and bringing a theo-logical intelligibility to the concrete conditions in which Review for Religious Christians live their lives. One is more likely to find this kind of intelligibility in Bernard Lonergan or Karl Rahner. Let me offer an example. It was my encounter with the writings of Balthasar that helped me discover the "weightiness" of the mystery of the cross. Balthasar is not content with presenting the cross as merely a consequence of Jesus' prophetic stance in the world. It is that, but it is also much more. It contains a vicarious element, which somehow involves Jesus' "taking on" the sin of the human race. Balthasar desires to do justice to a dominant theme in the Fathers, namely, the admirabile commercium, God's "wondrous exchange," with sinners. With aesthetic and dramatic power, Balthasar communi-cated to me the cross's power and centrality. And yet as questions arose--How did Jesus "take on" sin? Did he also take on our guilt? If so, did he also experience a loss of hope and the kind of darkness sinners experience?-- I became less satisfied with his systematic answers (or lack thereof). In my own research I have been more satisfied with a Thomist pattern of explanation (also not without its critics), given contemporary expression in Bernard Lonergan's writings on "Satisfaction" and the "Law of the Cross." Such writings offer terms and relations that can be used in engaging the modern sciences construc-tively. Balthasar has often prompted in me an excite-ment and concern about such theological questions Balthasar's theology, has a contemplative emphasis that prefers to let ',paradox" be the answer. 349 68.4 2009 Rosenberg * Christian Existence and Tbeology's Relevance and then failed to give me adequate answers. In his De Verbo Incarnato, Lonergan writes that, if one approaches Christ's passion and death with primarily a "symbolic mentality," where image and feeling predominate, then one is likely to express the meaning of the cross in terms of "substitution" or "satispassion," that is, in terms of Jesus' "suffering enough" for sins. These words do not do justice to the sophistication of Balthasar's approach, but they indicate something about his theological style in general and his theology of Christ's passion and death in particular. In my estimation, because of its dramatic terminology and its reliance on the mystical experiences of Adrienne von Speyr, Balthasar's theology of Christ's passion and death is often unclear and even reckless. I wonder, though, whether this theological question, sparked by the power of Balthasar's presentation, would have occurred to me at all without his help. Balthasar himself was not concerned with meeting the requirements of a technical, theoretical, systematic theologian. He once said in an interview, "My books are not the kind of theology that belongs to the aca-demic guild and therefore they are not particularly suited for dissertations." He remarked, "I have to say that for me the only truly interesting theologians are the saints: from. Irenaeus through Augustine to Anselm, to Bonaventure, or figures that allow the radiation of holiness to show forth, such as Dante or Newman; one could also mention Kierkegaard and Solovyov." A Call for Fruitful Integration My concern goes beyond the question of Balthasar's adequacy as a systematic theologian. I have accentuated his aesthetic-dramatic approach here, but I know there are many other approaches as well. My concern is the Review for Religious shape of Catholic theology in the 21st century and the place of the aesthetic-dramatic style therein. Vv'hat does theology conceived in Anselmian fashion as "faith seek-ing understanding" mean in light of the many theologi-cal styles we have inherited from the 20th century, from what Fergus Kerr has called "the Heroic Generation"? In my discussion of the cross, I have offered a "the-oretical" or "explanatory" challenge to Balthasar's theological style. Let me now say that Balthasar, too, offers a challenge. He makes us ask: Must not theol-ogy go well :beyond understanding to an understand-ing that is aesthetically and dramatically in touch with the joys and challenges of ordinary Christian existence? Shouldn't theology be more attentive to the Mystery that is encountered in aesthetic and dramatic form in our workaday world's prayer and worship? A question remains regarding what to do with the diversity of theological styles we have inherited. R.R. Reno has suggested that "we need a period of consolidation that allows us to integrate the lasting achievements of the Heroic Generation into a renewed standard theology." Let me suggest, without adequate exposition, one possible way forward, a way which has been similarly outlined by Robert Doran SJ. The chal-lenge of this generation is to integrate three 20th-cen-tury theological movements--contemporary Thomism, the ressourcement project of la nouvelle thdologie, and the various expressions of political-liberation theol-ogy. These three movements could be of help (1) in explaining theological doctrines in a theoretical man-ner that is capable of engaging with the natural and social sciences in search of a unity of knowledge; (2) in experiencing and mediating Catholic thought and culture through aesthetic-dramatic forms; and (3) in 68.4 2009 Rosenberg * Christian Existence and Tbeology's Relevance dealing with concrete human suffering of all kinds in light of the gospel mandate to transform a world in need. Such a grand vision would require sympathetic and critical conversations, the highlighting of comple-mentarities and dialectical differences, and the humil-ity to be open to revision. If such an integration were to occur, it would require doing justice in an orderly way to the richness of being human in the flow of his-tory, that is, being psychological, intellectuall rational, moral, loving, mystical, and worshipful. For this enter-prise Balthasar would certainly not have all the answers, but he would have much to contribute to it. By Beauty Tethered God of the dawn and high noon and of twilight and midnight; God of the tides and the myriad droplets of dew; God of gardenias and larkspur and tulips; by beauty, God,~ tether my being to you. Mary Anne Huddleston IHM Review for Religious A. PAUL DOMINIC How You Eat Matters I fEatthien gti,t lAe sJeoeymous sa Sbaict rpiufizczel.i"n gIn, It hper ompoatstee ra noof tehaetr-: ing, as in every other human exercise or experience, there is surely more to it than meets the eye, or indeed the tongue or any other sense organ. Perception of such impalpable reality may take no time or consume no little time. Communicating that reality, however, normally requires time, and maybe a detour. Anyway, in the present case, the process has been for me an experience of obscurum per obscurius, though at the end it was all darum (clear), bathed in light. "Hindu Prayer: A First for Congress"--that was the title of the news item from India Abroad News Service on 14 September 2000. The news was the historic event of a Hindu priest delivering the opening prayer in the United States House of Representatives.1 The prayer ran as follows: "O God, you are omnipresent, omnipo-tent, and omniscient. You are everything, and nothing A. Paul Dominic SJ wrote for us about dreams in 2008. His address is Aishalton c/o St Ignatius Mission; Lethem P.O.; Rupununi, Guyana (South America). Emaih pauldominicsj@yahoo.com 68.4 2009 Dominic ¯ How You Eat Matters is beyond you. You are our mother and father, and we are all your children." It continued: "Whatever you do is for our good. You are the ocean of mercy, and you forgive our errors. You are our teacher, and you guide us on to righteousness . Today, in this great hall, are assembled the elected representatives of the people of this nation. They are ready to perform their duties. God, please guide them in their thoughts and actions so they can achieve'the greatest good for all." The prayer ended with an invocation from the ancient scriptures of India. "May all be happy, may all be free from disease, may all realize what is good, may none be subject to misery; peace, peace, peace be unto all." The fact of the Hindu prayer in the U.S. Congress was objectionable and even threatening to some. Many others strongly counterprotested. Anyway, the words of the prayer cannot be construed really offensive to any-one, except of course an atheist. As a matter of fact, they breathe the deepest longings of harried humanity hop-ing in the Divinity. The way they are addressed to God smacks of no narrow Hinduism nor any sectarianism for that matter, but an inclusive theism. The God invoked is everybody's God.2 If the Hindu priest had his own traditional or peculiar thoughts about God, in no way does that show itself in his prayer. Even the concluding prayer, taken from the Hindu scriptures, sounds indeed more universal than particularly Hindu. It seems to show that genuine prayer cuts across ,barriers of religion. Everything connected with prayer in Hinduism can-not, of course, be explained thus. There are aspects of Hindu worship that are confined and meaningful only to adherents of Hinduism with its practices and tenets. Even here, however, it is wise to distinguish between what is exclusively Hindu and what is purely religious-- Review for Religious even though in practice the two are generally too inter-twined to detect. We should, however, exercise ourselves in this regard, for we can be surprisingly enriched as Christians and, what is more, find ourselves agree-ably bonded with other sincere believers. For example, though the ritual of sacrifice in various religions is dif-ferent in all of them and likely to distract and distance other people, the faith element in those sacrifices can be heartwarming and edifying to all those who can intuit it. Some reading I did about Hindu sacrifice proved to be quite inspiring. From it I got a sense of the homely and heavenly meaning of sacrifice beyond the altar's formal vesture, furnishings, and ceremony. I have grown to believe that eating at table has the character and odor of a true sacrifice. I was confirmed in my belief when I found a simi-lar thought in a poet with a Christian background. He shares his vision charmingly and persuasively: Since you must kill to eat, and rob the newly born of its mother's milk to quench your thirst, let it then be an act of worship, And let your board stand an altar on which the pure and the innocent of forest and plain are sacri-ficed for that which is purer and still more innocent in man.3 I have no inkling of how the poet arrived at his vision of profound truth. I can recount, however, my experience in this regard, recalling first the Hindu insight. i have grown to believe that eating at table has the character and odor of a true sacrifice. 68.4 2009 Dominic * How You Eat Matters A Hindu Adumbration The universe in the ancient Hindu vision originat-ing from the Vedic4 times of 2000 BC consisted of three worlds: the physical, the psychological, and the spiritual manitCesting themselves not as separate but congruent spheres. Fire (Affni in Sanskrit) at the physical level was obviously visible flames, like those burning a sacrificial offering to the deity. At the psychological level it was the mind exercising itself in thinking and knowing. At the spiritual level the same word was a name of God. Given the superiority of the spiritual over the physical and the psychological, the latter two were regarded and grasped as manifestations of the one supreme Spirit called Agrni, extending through the three-tiered universe. "The fire which is the sun, the fire which is the earth, that fire is in my own heart," as a Vedic verse put it pithily. One cannot miss the images of the three worlds: the sun standing for the spiritual, the earth for the material, and the human for the psychological.5 Anyone who is not at ease with this ancient under-standing needs only a moment's thought to see its con-nection with reality. For this a comparison with another religious tradition may help. In the Judaic tradition, physical fire serves the cultic needs of purification and liturgical rituals of offering. Fire that necessarily burns can signi~ blazing anger and, more importantly, the tribulation that cleanses the heart and proves the soul righteous. Fire is predicated of God's own self in theophanies of saving presence, transcendence, and benevolence. God appears as the burning bush and the pillar of fire and indeed as consuming fire (Dt 4:24, 9:3; Is 33:14). God purifies his servants and sets them afire with zeal so that the whole universe may shine in glory. Christian tradition has inherited this entire view Review for Religious and given it its own emphasis. Recall Jesus saying: "I have come to bring fire on the earth and desire that it be kindled" (Lk 12:49).6 Observing parallels in the Vedic and Biblical views of the world, one may see other ones as well. In the Vedic thought, sacrifice involves a conscious perception that the three worlds are bound together as one universe. Sacrifice involves lighting a fire and burning an obla-tion on the altar. The idea behind the ritual is that the spiritual fire that is in heaven is also buried in the earth, and so it bursts forth when stones or sticks are struck. By being burned, the gifts laid on the altar are carried to heaven. The fiery sacrifice returns all that is on the earth to its original source in heaven. The ideal of sacrifice behind this graphic picture is not absent in the Bible. Elijah's successful sacrifice when the prophets of Baal miserably failed (1 K 18:22.-38) comes to mind here. To continue still further with the inner significance of the Vedic sacrifice, as long as sacrifice is performed everything keeps returning to its origin, and human beings find themselves living in harmony with the uni-verse. When people fail in their duty of sacrifice, they interfere with the cyclic rhythm that sustains the world of which they are a part. They use the mountain of gifts without attending to their nature, thereby isolating both themselves and all things from their origin. They violate the law of the universe. But, when sacrifice is duly and gratefully done, it redounds to universal prosperity. This seems reflected in Psalm 50: "Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving and pay your vows to the Most High." The last element of all sacrifice is perhaps too obvi-ous to be striking: it is eating the sacrificial offerings. What is offered in sacrifice is normally things that peo-ple eat, and so a sacrifice ends as a sacrificial meal. But 68.4 2009 Dominic ¯ How You Eat Matters In the matter of sacrifice, the universal beliefwas that, when humans ate something of the sacrifice, the deity had partaken of it first. who eats in sacrifice? Those who sacrifice, of course. But, as the sacrifice is not offered to themselves, they do not eat alone. When the sacrifice is consumed by fire, it is believed that the deity above consumes it. This understanding is highlighted in the Hindu scriptural verse: "I, the Lord, become the fire of life, and seated in the body I consume the four kinds of food." This passage is certainly obscure for many, though it is for Hindus a familiar verse (vakya in Sanskrit) of the Bhagavad Gita, perhaps the most personal of all their scriptures. Anyway, what it says links human eating with divine eat-ing. In the matter of sacrifice, the universal belief was that, when humans ate something of the sacrifice, the deity had partaken of it first. Similarly, one may well conclude that what humans eat in ordinary meals is at the same rime consumed by "the fire of life," which is none other than God dwelling in human bodies. And so a human meal itself becomes a sacrifice to God. Bede Griffiths, the English Benedictine who, along with other foreign pioneers in India, continued the Indian tradition of ashram (akin to monasticism in the Western tradition), explains the point thus: "That fire, which is in the heaven above and in the earth beneath, is in our own bodies; we offer our food in sacrifice in that inner fire and it is consumed in the fire and surrendered to God again. So a meal is a sacrifice." Here is a subtle move from a sacrificial meal eaten on occasion to daily Review for Religious meals eaten in the joyous, harmonious spirit of sacri-fice. Drawing from another stanza in the Bhagavad Gita, Griffiths concludes that "anyone taking a meal without sacrificing is a thief; this is to take the gifts of God and appropriate them to oneself instead of receiving them as gifts and returning thanks.''7 A Christian Follow-Up Such a thought can startle nominal or profane Christians who have no thought of God whatever when they satisfy their hunger and thirst or overly indulge their tastes. Normal devout Christians accustomed to their routine mealtime prayer may well find more mean-ing in their daily practice. The grace before and after meals will then become the grace of meals as sacrifice. The whole meal from start to finish becomes an exercise and experience of grace, with the grace understood in terms of sacrifice. If sacrifice involves material fire for burning the oblation, daily meals as sacrifice ought to burn with the psychospiritual fire of desire--desire not merely for food, but for the One who gives the food. The Giver of food gives not only the natural and won-derful food and drink, but also the hunger, thirst, and taste buds necessary to enjoy it. Further, through our gratefulness God raises our minds beyond the mean philosophy of eat, drink, and be merry before it is too late. Enkindled by this grate-fulness, we cannot but experience a burning hunger for God. This does not produce asceticism in us so much as refine our taste for the simple, healthy, necessary food that makes for joyous living. At the same time it enables us to find God in food itself.8 This way of eating, that is much more than munching and gulping, becomes a sacrifice by virtue of the prayer surrounding our meals. 68.4 2009 Dominic ¯ How You Eat Matters As St. Paul says, food is for the stomach and the stom-ach for food, and ultimately the body is for the Lord (1 Co 6:13). Sacrificial prayer, then, from hearts burn-ing with fervor for God, rises like incense and raises people's spirits while leaving them contented with their daily bread. It is the very opposite of making a god of one's belly (Ph 3:19)9 and sacrificing to it. This talk is not farfetched or feverishly imagined. It breathes the spirit of Jesus who, being more a mystic than an ascetic, ate with much gratitude to his Abba God and with the childlike merriment of having been blessed. When necessary he gave hungry people food, but he also chided them for not understanding their hunger aright. One may learn a lot from his controversy with them as they were looking for him the day after he had miraculously fed them with bread and fish to their hearts' content (Jn 6). He unveiled to them their own undignified thoughts regarding food and satisfaction. He warned them not to work for food that cannot give life, but for the food from God that gives eternal life. "God's bread comes down from heaven and gives life to the world." Jesus told them that people do not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from God's mouth (Mr 4:4). Jesus' conduct in eating teaches about meal as sac-rifice. He takes the bread, looks up to heaven where his Abba Father dwells, gives thanks to him, and shares the bread with those around him generously, then pre-sumably eats along with them till finally making sure that nothing that remains goes to waste (Mt 14:19-20). While this pictures partly the proper Jewish uttering of a blessing such as "Praised be thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who bringest forth bread from earth," Jesus portrays more faithfully and characteristi- Review for Religious cally what his Abba intended when he led his people, feeding them with manna and so training them for life. His counsel to his eager listeners on the Mount is not to worry about food and drink. His words are meant to uplift them with the realization of their blessings on any given day, making of it a sacrifice of praise and grati-tude. The same spirit suffuses the prayer Jesus taught people to pray: "Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread" (Lk 11:2-3). Because our daily meals are ideally sacrifices filling us with gratitude and.uniting us with the bountiful Abba Father, Jesus began his unique sacrifice at an ordinary, if festive, meal, his last meal before he died. And there he bequeathed his new sacrifice in the form of a unique meal. It is with the same inspiration that he spoke of the heavenly life with God as a banquet of communion with God and all God's beloved (Mt 8:11, 22:2). What happens when, thinking of a penitential aspect of sacrifice, we lose sight of the sublime aspect of eat-ing and drinking? One answer is that then we cannot fully engage in the divine mystery of our Christian sac-rifice. We would even act contrary to the spirit of the sacrifice when we are not celebrating the Liturgy for-mally. The Corinthians did this, as Paul reminded them. When they came together for the Lord's Supper, they did not wait for the Lord. Paul says: "When you meet together, it is not the Lord's Supper that you eat. For in eating, each one goes ahead with his own meal, and one is hungry and another is drunk" (1 Co 11:20-21). To spell out an implication in Paul's words, ordinary human meals should be much like the Lord's Supper. There is or should be etiquette and the spirit of sacrifice in every ordinary meal. 361 68.4 2009 Dominic * How You Eat Matters 362 The Hindu version of what happens when we do not honor the sacrificial aspect of human eating is best illustrated by a Hindu story. A man sought to know from a Hindu priest the greatest being in the universe worthy of a sacrifice. Following the clear instruction, he began offering food to the newly acquired idol in his house. One day he found a rat eating the offering. Inferring that the rat must be greater than the idol, he began making his sacrificial offering to the rat, till one day he saw a cat threatening the rat. So he began mak-ing his sacrifice to the cat. One day the man's wife saw the cat on an eating spree in the kitchen and chased it away with a stick2 Made aware of this greater power of his wife, he began making his sacrifice to her. Then one day, finding the meal she cooked and served too salty, he shouted at her. She quivered at his anger. That encounter made him feel superior to his wife, and so he began to offer food sacrificially to himself. He ate and ate until he died. Can anyone be so foolish? Not in such an obvious way, but most of us are probably about half that foolish. The really wise, of course, would know how to enjoy food and drink while recognizing that they are also part of the grateful sacrifice due to God. There is something beautiful and divine in such sacrifice pervading daily life without formal rubrics and yet illumining the rubrics of the altar. "So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God" (1 Co 10:31). Notes ~ There was a similar first occurrence of prayer, this one in Sanskrit, spoken by a Hindu in the Nevada State Assembly on 19 March 2007 and in the Nevada State Senate on 7 May 2007, both in Carson City. See Kaumudi USA-News, March 2007 (front page). 2 Some Muslims, however, would not agree on this. Review for Religious 3 Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet (New Delhi: Allied Publishers, 1976), p. 30. 4 The word derives from the Vedas, the earliest Hindu scriptures in Sanskrit. s See Bede Griffiths, A New Vision of Reality (New Delhi: Indus, 1992), pp. 58-59. 6 See John L. McKenzie, Dictionary of the Bible (Bangalore: Asian Trading Corporation, 1998), pp. 277-278. 7 Griffiths, New Vision, p. 61. The verse itself runs thus: "Nourished by your sacrifice, the Gods will grant you your heart's desires. / What a thief is he who enjoys their gifts but gives nothing in return!" (3:12). See Raimundo Panikkar et al., The Vedic Experience (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, 1977), p. 428. s As Jesus overturned the notion of unclean food in Jewish Pharisaism and declared all food clean (Mk 7:19), he would also declare all food good against what may be called Christian libertinism. 9 Of course, in the Pauline context the reference was to Jewish dietary laws that in Christianity were being superseded, whereas here it is the regrettable exaltation of food for food's sake. Questions for Personal and Group Reflection 1. How do you consider grace before and after meals meaningful to your Christian living? 2. Can you explain that the Last Supper exemplifies for us how our daily meals are "ideally sacrifices filling us with gratitude and uniting us with the bountiful Abba Father"? 363 68.4 2009 PATRICIA A. WITTBERG religious life models Opening a New Window: Fifteen Years after the FORUS Study More than fifteen years ago, Miriam Ukeritis csJ and David Nygren CM published their groundbreaking study, The Future of Religious Orders in the United States) In it they predicted that religious congregations had only a ten-year window of opportunity before the aging of their current members and the lack of new entrants would render them nonviable. Many resisted this prediction, refusing to believe it. Some spun visions of an alternate (and socio-logically naive) future in which religious con-gregations would expand to include married and single, vowed and nonvowed, Catholic and non-Catholic, male and female, all somehow gathered together under the aegis of a vaguely defined charism? Others, not knowing what to believe, considered religious life's future Patricia A. Wittberg SC wrote about the "recipro-cal identities" of apostolic life and consecrated life in our July-August 2002 issue. Her address remains 2141 Dugan Drive; Indianapolis, Indiana 46260. Email: pwittber@iupui.edu Review for Religious something they could do litde about and focused their diminishing energies on their ministries instead. Fifteen years later, for many religious congregations, the window of opportunity appears to have closed. Few if any of their members are under the age of sixty; no one has entered for ten or even twenty years; vocation directors are burned out or depressed. Many members coverdy believe--and some openly argue--that it is use-less and unethical to invite young people to enter. It is for these congregations, especially, that I am writing this article, but I offer it as well to communities which are in less dire straits. I. believe that both could profit from the following alternative. I would like to point out a different--and more sociologically feasible--path for the future of declining religious congregations. I do not see this as replacing traditional religious life--which is thriving on a smaller scale in some (but not all) of the CMSWR congregations in the United States, and on a larger scale in Africa and South Asia. There will always be a place in the church for the traditional model of religious life. But U.S. Catholic culture is no longer as hospitable to this model as it once was. If it were, several hundred, not a few dozen, traditional religious congregations would be springing up in this country, and they would be doubling in membership every decade. Such explosive growth was the norm for religious congregations founded in the 19th century, and it obviously is not happening today. This comparative lack of interest, however, does not indicate that present-day U.S. Catholics are unspiritual heathens. They simply are not attracted to the traditional model. I believe that American Catholicism would be bet-ter served if several other versions of religious life were also available to young Catholics. By"other versions" I 68.4 2009 tVittberg ¯ Opening a New Window A social movement is a wave of beliefs and/or actions that sweeps large numbers of persons into working toward a specific goal. 366 do not mean the lifestyles currendy being modeled by most of the non-CMSWR religious congregations. These are faring even worse than the traditionalist orders in attracting new members. Their charisms are still beau-tiful and, for the most part, still valid in today's world. But they are not being presented in a form that appeals to young Catholics today. Instead, I want to suggest a different strategy for handing on a congregation's charism to a new generation: starting one---or preferably severalmsocial-movement orga-nizations. To explain how this would work, I first need to define a few terms. Broadly considered, a social movement is a wave of beliefs and/or actions that sweeps large numbers of persons into working toward a specific goal. Examples are the civil-rights movement, the women's movement, the envi-ronmental movement, and the right-to-life movement. Each of these movements may con-tain dozens of separate social-movement organizations (SMOs) which focus on particular activities, particular groups of people, or particular issues related to the larger movement's goals. Thus, the environmental movement includes large organiza-tions like the Sierra Club, the Nature Conservancy, and Greenpeace and also many smaller groups that focus on saving the monarch butterfly, cleaning up a local river, opposing the dumping of toxic waste, and so forth.3 There have been religious social movements and, thus, religious social-movement organizations as well. In Review for Religious Protestantism, a succession of social movements called "Great Awakenings" sparked a host of religious revival groups throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, several of which developed into full-fledged denominations such as the Mormons, the Seventh-Day Adventists, and the various Pentecostal churches. In Catholicism, waves of devotionalism swept through both 17th-century France and 19th-century North America,4 spinning off pilgrim-age societies, sodalities, and prayer groups devoted to particular saints, scapulars, or novenas. These were not .religious orders at their inception, but some later did develop in that direction. Other times they simply strengthened the existing orders. I am suggesting that religious congregations con-sciously try to foster something similar today. Most still have one or more members who are passionate about meeting some particular need in today's world, be it sav-ing the environment, feeding the poor, sheltering home-less women and children, providing free medical care to the uninsured, or mentoring the spiritually searching,s Many of these members have already worked out a more or less specific theology to ground their activities and to explain how their passion fits with the congregation's charism. Some have recruited a corps of volunteers to help them in. their work. To paraphrase the famous line from MoliEre,6 they are already "forming a religious SMO without knowing it." However, these passionate members are often less connected to the rest of the con-gregation. For years, even decades, the other members may have left them alone to "do their own thing." But it is only a small step from what these indi-vidual religious are already instinctively doing, for their congregation deliberately to form and maintain several SMOs to enflesh its charism for subsequent genera- 68.4 2009 Wittberg ¯ Opening a New Window 368 tions. All that remains is to help each incipient group to articulate its identity publicly, to specify clearly its religious grounding in the congregation's charism, and to take specific steps to ensure its leadership continuity and stable membership. This might simply involve: ¯ Picking a name connected with both the charism of the congregation and the specific focus of the group: "Vincentian Servants of the Homeless," "Franciscan Brothers and Sisters of the Earth," "Centering Pray-ers," and so forth. ¯ Adopting an identifiable sign of group affiliation, for example, a common T-shirt or a medal. ¯ Maintaining a public-relations effort to inform potential volunteers, donors, other members of the con-gregation, and the church at large about the group's existence and to attract them to its mission. ¯ Spelling out the criteria for entering and exiting the group, expectations of membership, and ongoing group governance. Previous evidence indicates that, paradoxically, groups with more rigorous expectations are more likely to succeed than those which demand less of their adherents.7 The first two steps are relatively simple, and may already have been taken. But they are not enough. Unless some provision is made for the continuance of the SMO, it may not survive its founder's retirement. The founding brother or sister may be neither inter-ested in nor skilled at such bureaucratic maintenance activities. For the remaining steps, therefore, a religious congregation may be able to offer valuable help from its communications office (for the third task), and its leadership (for the fourth). The kind of social-movement organization I am advocating may or may not be represented by a con- Review for Religious gregation's associate program. A congregation's associ-ates could certainly be this kind of group--but only if they are organized around a readily articulated spiri-tual focus and/or apostolic activity that distinguishes associate membership from the larger call given to any Catholic. Simply stating that associates are devoted to "living the charism of the founder" is not enough. The more focused the associates' commitment--whether in monthly or weekly prayer/lectio according to the founder's spirituality, or in working on a regular basis with the vowed members in their ministry, or in staffing some auxiliary ministry that complements that of the vowed members--the more my SMO proposal here can be applied to them. Otherwise, an associateprogram will not be sufficiendy distinct from the lifestyle of non-associates to enflesh the order's charism on its own. Advantages of the SMO Model I am suggesting that some congregations--especially those whose members have tacitly abandoned the hope of attracting new vowed members--make a point of acknowledging this and then start to recruit people for their present members' particular SMOs. What would be the advantages of such a strategy? First of all, any given religious congregation will survive only to the extent that its members are passionately devoted to some particular version of their founding charism. The future of religious life does not rest with the tired or apathetic, but after a long period of decline many religious now are both. Most congregations have only a few members with the needed passion and enthusiasm. Moreover, these members may not all be focused on the same passion. Some may live and breathe God's call to serve the poor; others may devote their energies to preserving God's 68.4 2009 Wittberg ¯ Opening a New Window Any given religious congregation will survive only to the extent that its members are passionately ~devoted to some particular version of their founding charism. 370 creation through environmental activities; still others, with a more contemplative bent, may foster spirituality through centering prayer, pastoral counseling, or reli-gious art or music. A religious order faced with only a handful of healthy and passionate vowed members, each deeply devoted to a different passion, faces a serious dilemma. It can either focus on one of these passions to the exclu-sion of the others (which would be profoundly alien-ating to those left out), or it can try to include all of them (which dilutes the con-gregation's spe-cific identity and its ability to rally its members around a common goal). Either way, a congregation's ability to recruit to vowed membership is weakened if its remaining passion-ate members are devoted to different articulations of its charism, because its overall corporate mission identity will be weak.8 In contrast, enfleshing these articulations in several different SMOs would strengthen a congregation and improve the chances for its charism to survive. Since each SMO's participants are not necessarily vowed to the congregation, it is not only possible but desirable that several could exist under the same congregational "rOOfo''9 The more different SMOs a congregation's members "spin off," the greater the chance that one, at Review for Religious least, will catch fire. As I will argue below, this may then become the seed for the congregation's future. A second advantage of the SMO approach is that it is a sociologically feasible way of incorporating temporary members or inviting specific demographic groups into the congregation's family. The prospect of temporary membership in permanently vowed religious congrega-tions has been discussed for over thirty years without ever coming to fruition.'° This is probably a sign that the concept is unworkable. A host of decisions would need to be faced in a congregation that included both permanent and temporary members: financial expec-tations, for example, or voice and vote in chapters. Maintaining a distinction between the two groups could imply a second-class status for the temporary members; erasing the distinction would depreciate the perpetually vowed members' commitment. Also, there is not now and never has been any indi-cation that large numbers of potential entrants are clamoring for the option of temporary membership in communities with perpetual vows. If anything, the opposite is the case. In contrast, however, various lay movements that are similar to SMOs are thriving in the church--which may be a sign that the model is a more compatible and sociologically viable Way of enfleshing a religious call in today's world.'1 Lay social-movement organizations are compat-ible with temporary commitment. In fact, many actu-ally expect that their members will stay no more than three or four years. Prayer or volunteer groups specifi-cally targeting high school or college students would be examples of these. A recently begun group is the St. Joseph of Arimathea Society--groups of high school students in Cleveland and Louisville who help provide 371 68.4 2009 Wittberg ¯ Opening a New Window A final advantage of religious ¯ social-movement organizations is that it is less devastating for the members if they dissolve. dignified and reverent funeral services for homeless peo-ple, and for murder victims and deceased old and young people whose relatives are too few or too devastated to arrange a funeral themselves. The students provide sing-ers and pallbearers, tend the "potter's field" cemetery, and collect money for flowers and grave markers. More traditional examples of student organiza-tions include prayer groups (Athletes for Christ, rosary or adoration societies) or twinning arrange-ments with a school in a poor area. There is no expectation that the students will remain members of these groups after their graduation, although they may be directed to affiliated adult groups which they may or may not choose to join. A final advantage of religious social-movement orga-nizations is that it is less devastating for the members if they dissolve. While no data exist on the number of failed attempts that preceded or accompanied the suc-cessful founding of religious orders in previous centu-ries, anecdotal evidence in our histories indicates that at least as many attempts to found religious orders have failed as succeeded. This appears to be true today as well. Of the 97 new religious communities listed in the 1999 Directory of Embrging Religious Communities, 24 had dissolved by 2006, and another 21 had lost members.~2 Founding or truly refounding a religious order is a chancy business, and those who commit their lives to one of these new groups risk losing both financial security Review for Religious and mental/emotional health if they fail. Committing oneself to an SMO carries with it many fewer risks. Outcomes For those religious who are concerned for the pres-ervation of their congregation's charism, forming one or more SMOs could have several beneficial results: ¯ Social-movement organizations may be effective recruit-ment vehicles for vowed membership. With few religious teaching in Catholic schools, most young Catholics have never seen a sister or brother. And few religious inter-act with anyone younger than fifty on a deep or regu-lar basis. How can young Catholics join a lifestyle they know so little about? How can religious invite those they never see? Participating with vowed religious on an ongoing basis in a soup kitchen, a prayer group, or an ecological project will help young people get to know the religious involved--and vice versa. ¯ One particular social-movement organization may develop into the vehide that will carry a congregation's charism into the next generation, after all of the former vowed mem-bers are gone. If so, this would finally realize the inclusive ¯ scenario that the "Transformative Elements" painted for the future of religious life twenty years ago. How could anyone say that a religious charism was extinct if, instead of a small number of vowed religious, an SMO of married, single, Catholic, and non-Catholic men and women were living it out by feeding the hungry, praying a particular devotion, tutoring poor children, or in some other way were bringing the founder's original vision into the 21st century? "Life is not ended, merely changed." ¯ A truly successful social-movement organization will often, however, contain a number of members who do want to devote their entire lives to its vision. It may 373 68.4 2009 Wittberg ¯ Opening a New Window be that these members will not join the original community, but will instead begin a new one. If the first community is still around at this point, their wisdom and experi-ence would be invaluable for the new group. If not, the stories of the SMO's original founder--the sister who started a free clinic in Appalachia, the brother whose soup kitchen mobilized a city to feed the poor--will serve as a template. After all, Frederick Ozanam (the founder of the St. Vincent de Paul Society) lived sev-eral centuries after Vincent himself. St. John Bosco had never met St. Francis de Sales. Throughout the millennium and a half that Catholic religious life has existed, many new religious orders or lay groups have been formed from old templates. SMOs could provide templates of this very kind. Next Steps I believe that social-movement organizations could be useful, both for religious congregations that have given up on recruiting vowed members, and also for more-viable communities that still attract some young people. For the former, it may be the last remaining way they have of passing on their charism to a new genera-tion. For the latter, it may help them attract even more new entrants. The next steps I would suggest to con-gregations wishing to found such organizations--or to foster the ones their individual members have already begun--are as follows: ¯ Take inventory of today's society: What are its deep-est needs or desires? As I have noted previously,~3 the best way to determine these needs is to look at what larger social movements are currently growing. The most pressing social movements reveal themselves by the large number of SMOs they spawn. Are there already Review for Religious a lot of small environmental groups? Prayer groups? Adoration groups? Groups working with the poor? Women's groups? Check out the directory of associa-tions on the Internet Public Library (http://www.ipl. org/div/aon/)to find out. Is there room for another SMO, locally, in this movement? For example, is there a group that the movement currently does not reach, such as Hispanics or high school youth? Is there a new tactic or way of addressing the issue that existing SMOs do not use? Could adding your congregation's spirituality or charism deepen commitment to the social movement? ¯ Take inventory of your congregation: Who are your passionate members? What are their passions? How, if at all, do these passions relate to the charism of your founder? What larger social movements do these pas-sions relate to? Are your community's passionate mem-bers interested in leading or organizing a group to assist them in their work? Or, better, have they already done so? Are other members in your congregation interested in helping them? ¯ What does the group still need in order to succeed? Does it need to expand its pool of potential volunteers? Secure more stable funding? Plan for the founder's retirement? What is the optimum size for the group? Would expansion be good for it--or dilute its unique character? If the latter, can the group's model be "fran-chised" in some way, with separate independent chap-ters in various cities?14 ¯ What assistance can the congregation render? Can your communications office help to publicize the group? Can your vocation personnel and/or associates help locate new volunteers? Does the group need a place to meet? Need mentoring in finances or grant writing? What about retreats or prayer days on the charism? And 68.4 2009 Wittberg ¯ Opening a New Window 376 who in the congregation could provide these services? A weakness in any new religious organization is its "liabil-ity of newness," which may lead to mistakes that imperil its very survival. A more experienced mentor could be a tremendous help. It is obvious by now that religious life is at the end of one of the cyclic downturns which have recurred over the centuries. Rather than resign ourselves to our "inev-itable" extinction--and thereby create a self-fulfilling prophecy--I think we should notice that the SMO model offers a way to midwife the new forms of religious life that will thrive and grow in the years ahead. The many permutations of this model already appearing--associ-ate programs, lay ecclesial movements, mixed emerg-ing communities--are foreshadowings, I believe, of an absorbing future. This is true even if most of them fail, as new ventures often do. More will continue to spring up until some "get it right." With their centuries-long experience and the passions of at least some of their vowed members, today's religious congregations could help in this rebirth. Notes ~ David Nygren and Miriam D. Ukeritis, The Future of Religious Orders in the United States: Transformation and Commitment (Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 1993). 2 A good example would be the third and fourth of the so-called "Transformative Elements" developed by the joint CMSM/LCWR meet-ing in Louisville in 1989--and cited on pp. 255 and following of Nygren and Ukeritis's book. Supposedly, this is what religious life would look like in the year 2010. In hindsight, it reflects more wishful thinking than any real-world trends for vowed religious life. 3 Fora fuller discussion of social movements and social-movement organizations, see my Pathways to Re-Creating Religious Communities (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1996), chap. 4. 4 See Elizabeth Rapley, The D~votes: Women and Church in Seventeenth Review for Religious Century France (Montreal: McGill-Queens University Press, 1990), and Anne Taves, The Household of Faith: Roman Catholic Devotions in Nineteenth Century America (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1986), for these waves of devotionalism. s My own congregation has individual sisters--of whom I am extremely proud--deeply involved in all of these activities. 6 Or maybe not so famous--the citation refers to a line from Moli~re's comedy Le bourgeois gentilhomme, in which a nouveau riche man is being tutored in literature and discovers that he has been speak-ing prose all of his life without knowing it. 7 See, e.g., Rodney Stark and Roger Finke, Acts of Faith: Explaining the Human Side of Religion (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000), chap. 7. 8 According to the Nygren and Ukeritis study, mission identity is the principal variable influencing a congregation's success (see pp. 97-98). 9 Several religious families have known this instinctively. For exam-ple, my own Vincentian tradition includes, not only the Congregation of the Mission, the Daughters of Charity, and the various Sister of Charity Federation congregations, but also the St. Vincent de Paul Society, the Ladies of Charity, Vincentian Marian Youth, the Association of the Miraculous Medal, and the Missionary Cenacle, all of which are move-ment organizations of nonvowed laypersons. Similarly the Salesian family includes, not only the Salesian priests and Visitation nuns, but other vowed religious such as the Sisters of Mary Help of Christians, the Missionaries of St. Francis, the Salesian Missionaries of Mary Immaculate, and the Oblate Sisters of St. Francis de Sales, plus lay groups such as the Association of St. Francis de Sales and the Oblates of St. Francis de Sales. to I am not referring here to societies of apostolic life like the Daughters of Charity, who make annual vows, but rather to including an option for temporary membership in congregations whose members are now expected to make perpetual vows. Moreover, even among the Daughters of Charity, there is the assumption that one's annual vows are really for life. ~' According to the Center for Applied Research in the Apostolate (CARA), Emerging Communities of Consecrated Life in the United States (Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press, 2006, p. 16), ten of the twelve most rapidly growing new indigenous emerging communities in the U.S. are mixed communities with some, or all, lay members. t2 CAP, A, Emerging Communities, p. 16. 377 68.4 2009 Wittberg ¯ Opening a New V~ndow ,3 Wittberg, Pathways, pp. 80-85. ,4 The above-mentioned St. Joseph of Arimithea Society seems to operate through "franchises"--the Cleveland and Louisville chapters appear to be separate from each other. Many.other groups enlisting high school or college students operate similarly. A Sampler of Potential (and Actual) Religious SMOs 1. "Franchised" Youth Groups (local school chapters, perhaps with a national headquarters supplying materials or training) a. Volunteers supporting a local soup kitchen b. A high school or college centering-prayer group c. Group spiritual direction, big brother/sister spiritual mentoring d. Adoration societies, sodalities 2. Ministry Groups (non-age-specific, perhaps linked nationally in a network or association) a. Supporting crisis pregnancies b. Companioning the dying c. Running a women's shelter d. Strengthening marriages 3. Spirituality Groups (may have a centralized head-quarters and/or a youth branch - see #1, above) a. Devotion to a particular saint b. Performance of a particular spiritual practice (Eucharistic adoration, centering prayer, pilgrimages) c. Spiritual mentoring, group spiritual direction 4. Lifestyle Groups a, Simple living b. Intentional communities c. Peace and reconciliation Review for Retigious WILLIAM P. CLARK Revisiting Religious Identity mnthe years following the Second Vatican Council, uch attention was focused on changes in religious life. Much writing and much effort have been directed toward rethinking or reimaging religious life. In light of all that, one might be tempted to say "Enough already!" An old saying has it that familiarity breeds contempt. Familiarity can also breed complacency and neglect. It might be good, then, to look once again at what it means to be a religious, to reflect on our religious iden-tity. Besides the decree on the renewal of religious life, Perfectae caritatis, Vatican Council II also spoke of the role of religious in Lumen gentium, the dogmatic con-stitution on the church. In chapter 6, §44, we read that the religious state "manifests in a special way that the kingdom of God and its high requirements transcend all earthly considerations, bringing home to all people William P. Clark OMI, longtime teacher and administrator, lives at St, Henry's Oblate Residence; 200 North 60th Street; Belleville, Illinois 62223. 379 68.4 2009 Clark ¯ Revisiting Religious Identity the immeasurable greatness of the power of Christ in his sovereignty and the infinite might of the Holy Spirit marvelously working in the church.'" The council is simply saying religious life gives special witness that, above and beyond earthly values, there is something we call the kingdom of God. While religious life's characteristic witness is spe-cial, it is not exclusive. It is the duty of all Christians to give witness to the kingdom of God. All Christians, be they lay or religious, are committed to living out their baptismal consecration. Emphasis on the common voca-tion of all Christians highlights what is of fundamental importance, the fullness of Christian life informed by charity. That emphasis also counteracts any tendency to draw unfavorable comparisons between the lay and religious states, as though laypersons are somehow sec-ond- class citizens or "children of a lesser God." That broad emphasis on all Christian life is rooted in the most ancient tradition of monasticism. In his masterful study The Spirituality of the New Testament and the Fathers, Louis Bouyer finds certain constants in the literature of monasticism. He affirms them because they were some-what obscured by later developments. One such insight is that the primitive monk did not appear special. Whether by himself or others, his vocation was not considered par-ticular or exceptional. The monk was simply a Christian, a devout layperson who took the most radical means to live the Christian life to the fullest. The monk proposed no other end than to be saved. All his life, the monk asked for no other teaching from his elders than the means of attaining that goal. His fundamental and persistent ques-tion was: "Tell me. How can I be saved?" Two points need emphasis. First, holiness, the fullness of Christian life, is not something reserved Review for Religious to religious, while laypersons are called to something less. Second, religious are to focus on the essential, on the search for union with God, and not see holi-ness as something incidental or distinctive which sets them apart from "ordinary" Christians. Fundamental to religious identity is one's identity as a Christian. It is the fullness of the Christian experience that constitutes Christian identity. There are three major elements in the Christian expe-rience. The first is not distinctively Christian. It is the human preamble. It consists in discovering that human happiness and fulfillment are not brought about by tak-ing. We all start out that way, looking for that certain something or combination of things which, if we could only latch on to it and make it our own, would provide fulfillment. The Christian experience becomes possible once we realize that what we really seek is something or someone to give ourselves to, something or someone greater and nobler than ourself. It is a search for some-thing or someone that will endow our life with meaning and purpose. Finding that something or someone is the beginning of faith as a lived reality. It becomes the basis of all commitment worthy of the name. The second element makes the experience specifi-cally Christian. It consists in finding that greater-than-self reality in the person of Jesus Christ. It is finding in his words meaning for our life. It is finding in his life the pattern and model for our own. The third element is the desire to share what we have found. We want others to find the meaning and purpose that have become our own. We want to live out this meaning and purpose in love for one another. The full Christian experience, then, is apostolic and missionary. 381 68.4 2009 Clark * Revisiting Reli#ous Identity 382 If this Christian experience is not real in our lives, no amount of theorizing about what it is or should be will ever make it so. Furthermore, theorizing will not help much in our lives as religious. If the Christian experience is real, it can be progressively liberating, freeing from all those attitudes of mind and spirit that limit us to operating within the narrow confines of self-ish interests. Like all Christians, religious are to give witness by their lives to the possibilities open to everyone for liber-ation from enslaving attitudes like inordinate ambition, defensiveness, possessiveness, self-pity, and cynicism. The life of religious should also be an active witness to joy, to hope, and to love. The call to the fullness of Christian life and to the perfection of charity seems so daunting that peo-ple often try to evade its challenge. In doing so, lay-persons sometimes say that holiness is something for religious and priests, not for "ordinary" persons like themselves. Likewise, religious sometimes find a type of escape through dependence on the system. Religious life involves a kind of system that includes public vows, constitutions and rules, and a goodly number of prac-tices found in the traditions of various religious insti-tutes. We might think just plugging into the system will make us as holy as we need to be. It is easy to just coast along. All too easily we can come to rate as virtue whatever is conformable to our religious surroundings. Custom and routine can so enslave us as to dispense us from personal decision. Of course, custom and routine, as well as the regular practices and exercises of religious life, are also great helps--if we understand and use them righdy. They do not, however, carry us all the way. They reflect the fact Review for Religious that in choosing to be religious we have set the direction of our lives. But they do not guarantee we never lose that direction. The need for ongoing renewal is simply the need to reaffirm, to reset our direction. The human condition is such that nothing can be taken for granted except the constancy of God's grace, of his invitation. Another point on which the council spoke explic-itly is religious consecration. Everyone of the faithful is consecrated to the divine service by baptism. Clearly, in various contexts the word "consecration" has various meanings, causing difficulties to be raised about how this idea applies to religious. In address-ing those difficulties, the council begins by relating religious con-secration to baptism. Religious consecra-tion adds nothing to the baptism's sacramental character. It is, however, in the line of baptismal grace. That grace can be lived in varying degrees of intimacy. The coun-cil speaks of religious as being "more intimately conse-crated to the divine service." That phrase is significant. It does not say "more strictly" or anything that might seem to emphasize some form of legal obligation. What the council points out by those words is that baptismal consecration can be interiorized to a greater or lesser extent by grace and by love. Ultimately, the truth of every Christian life consists in one's baptismal consecration. But God calls people to live out that consecration in different ways. For religious The call to the fullness of Christian life and to the perfection of charity seems so daunting that people often try to evade its challenge. 68.4 2009 Clark ¯ Revisiting Religious Identity the call to God's service is more explicitly determined. It takes on a particular form or style. To put that a bit differently, for religious the vital response called for by God's loving initiative is made concrete in a specific and distinctive way. By making a certain explicit profession of the evan-gelical counsels, persons technically become religious. The purpose of such profession is to commit ourselves more explicitly and more profoundly to living our bap-tismal consecration. At one time religious profession was commonly called "a new baptism" in homilies at profession ceremonies. In those days it was not always adequately explained. The council statements revitalized and clarified that idea. In reflecting on religious consecration, it is important to realize that such consecration is the work of God. Virtually every page of Scripture speaks of God's initiative in regard to creatures. Jesus told his disciples: "You have not chosen me. I have chosen you." Passages like that have a particular resonance for religious. It is God who calls religious and consecrates them through the church's ministry. Because it is God's work, religious consecration is permanent. God's choice and God's fidelity are unchanging. God is constant in the grace he offers, in his call. Our challenge is to keep trying to respond generously to that call. Religious consecration represents a special instance of the mysterious interaction between grace and human freedom. Obviously it is essential that those consecrat-ing themselves to God's service be free. At the same time we must recognize that the consecration is ulti-mately God's work. Religious profession has never been considered a sacrament by the church. In recent years many things have been referred to as "sacraments," in a broad sense Review for Religiot~s of the word. In the strict sense, religious profession is not a sacrament. That does not mean, however, that religious profession has no reality beyond the disposi-tion and conduct of the subject. Religious consecration is something accorded to free persons precisely as free. To be received, the consecra-tion requires a personal response to God's call. That response includes certain characteristics. It must be sufficiently enlightened, conscious, and free. A person's intention and the vows which formulate that intention are eminently free acts. Conversely, when the church dispenses from vows, she judges that in reality there was some impediment to freedom in the original profes-sion, something lacking in what was offered for divine consecration. The fact that religious consecra-tion is not a sacrament does not mean nothing more is involved than the liberty of the one making vows. On God's part the engagement is indefectible. A vocation consists in a person's being called to a cer-tain manner of life. Each vocation has its own structure and laws. Those laws are not to be understood as some-thing imposed from the outside. They derive from the very nature of the life in question. To ignore structure and laws proper to religious life would be to think of reli-gious life as funny putty which can take on any shape one gives it. History shows significant variations in the forms of religious life. But, in the last analysis, that life must always be directly related to what is most fundamental in Christianity, the search for God and growth in charity. A vocation consists in a person's being called to a certain manner of life. 68.4 2009 Clark * Revisiting Religious Identity In the Christian understanding of life, the goal is progress in charity. Jesus made it clear that love of God and love of neighbor sum up the whole law. Love gives ultimate value to what we do. That is why religious con-secration is wholly directed towards love of God and neighbor. It is precisely that love which gives the value of consecration to the activity of the religious. The idea that one's activities must continuously be animated by charity is certainly not new. We have heard it countless times in one form or another. Nor is it distinctive. It is true for everyone. By religious profession we are committed to that goal more explicitly, more officially, as it were. On the part of religious, the consecration of one's life consists in using distinctive means for achieving the common Christian goal of progress in charity. My cir-cumstances, my state of life, determine the means that are most appropriate for me. Jacques Maritain offered an excellent definition of means. He said means are the end in the process of coming to be. Thus, at each moment of our journey toward the perfection of love, we make that end real by employing the appropriate means, Perhaps we should emphasize the word "journey." While we hope we are on the right road and we try to keep moving in the right direction, we never reach the end, the perfection of love, in this life. Another way to put that is to say that holiness is not so much a place we arrive as it is the way we travel. Consciousness of our shortcomings and failures makes us reluctant to think of ourselves as holy. A num-ber of years ago Archbishop John Roach of St. Paul, in a pastoral letter on spirituality titled A Friendship Unlimited, offered a valuable insight in this regard. He wrote: "It's a funny thing, but for years I couldn't imag- Review for Religious ine thinking of myself as holy. I was equating holiness with perfection, and I knew I simply didn't have that. It is clear to me now that holiness is the desire to be a friend of Jesus Christ and to surrender my will to God. I may stumble along with that. I have so far--but, so long as I continue a sincere effort toward that goal, I am holy." It might help also to remind ourselves of one charac-teristic of holiness that is often overlooked. It is compat-ible with human frailty. Many stories and most statues of saints give a wrong impression, an impression of otherworldliness that obscures the fact that those saints were real human beings with human faults and weak-nesses. Examples are plentiful. St. Augustine was given to rages. St. Thtr~se of Lisieux had bouts of depression. St. Vincent de Paul, the great saint of charity, was said to be bilious and subject to fits of anger. St. Jerome was aggressive and insulting to persons who disagreed with him. In fact, one of his contemporaries said of Jerome that his malice was such that no saint could live within miles of him. The secret of all of those people is that they never gave up struggling and working to overcome their human weaknesses. They knew what counts is not the triumphant victory of total perfection, but persevering effort. Teresa of Avila said we should strive and strive and strive, for we were made for nothing else. She was right, of course, but the way she said it makes it sound hard. And it is a constant challenge. We cannot gloss over that. But I like the way T.S. Eliot put it when he said: "We are only undefeated because we keep 6n trying." In question 186 of the Secunda Secundae of his Summa Theologiae, St. Thomas treats of things that per-tain to the religious state. He speaks at length of the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience and argues their ,387 68.4 2009 Clark ¯ Revisiting Religious Identity necessity for religious perfection. He points out that "a person cannot offer his whole life to God directly because that life is not lived all at once, but only suc-cessively. Hence, a person can only offer his whole life to God through the obligation imposed by vows" (my translation). Thus, our real challenge is not the perfor-mance of heroic acts, however beautiful, however noble, for every human act is by nature transitory. Our real challenge is the heroism of a whole life, offered to God without measure, without reservation, without regret. This is done through religious consecration, through the vows. And in this the entire person, mind and heart, must be involved and permanently involved. Note ' The Vatican translation and the revised Flannery translation, melded. See Lumen gentium, chapter 6, §44: "Regni Dei denique super omnia terrestria elevationem eiusque summas necessitudines peculiari modo patefacit [status religiosus]; supereminentem quoque magnitudi-nem virtutis Christi regnantis atque infinitam Spiritus Sancti potentiam in Ecclesia mirabiliter operantem, cunctis hominibus demonstrat." Ed. 388 Questions for Personal and Group Reflection If religious sisters and brothers are identified with the laity, how do you claim their special religious identity? 2. Has Clark been helpful in underlining aspects of religious identity that distinguish religious life for priests, sisters, and brothers? Would you want to add or subtract anything? Review for Religious LEO J. HERIOT Encounters Early and Late: John Bosco and Paul Saul was present at the stoning of the lov-able Stephen, and perhaps this increased the Pharisee's desire for Christian blood. Fernand Prat says, "Not content with being present at the torture of the victims, he entered into houses and dragged out the inmates, both men and women, to hale them to the dungeons."' Saul set out on the trail of Christians not to evangelize them but in pursuit of them to bring them to what he thought was justice. He had asked the priests to give him the offi-cial mission to seek out Jesus' disciples in the synagogue of Damascus and drag them before the Sanhedrin. In the Acts of the Apostles we have three accounts of the vision on the way to Damascus (9:1-19; 22:3-21; 26:12-20). It is Luke who makes the first announcement of Leo J. Heriot SDB wrote for us about Margaret Bosco in 2007. His address is now Don Bosco House; PMB Government Buildings; Suva, Fiji-Islands. exemplars of faith 389 68.4 2009 Heriot ¯ Encounters Early and Late this event; later we hear Paul giving his own account. The accounts agree on the important points: the occa-sion, the place, the time of day, the dazzling light, Saul's fall to the ground, his dialogue with the mysterious voice, his blindness, the return of his sight, and the total change in his life. From being a firebrand of a persecutor, he became a sower of the Good News of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. The whole change of his behavior, his heeding of the strong voice's words, and his subsequent dedica-tion to a new cause make us aware that he was not led by fanaticism or goaded on by personal ambition. Jesus Christ seized him, pulled him close to himself. From the accounts of this conversion, nothing presaged it, noth-ing hinted that the fierce Pharisee would change regard-ing this person Jesus Christ, changing and becoming a disciple of Jesus and a preeminent apostle. Looking at this conversion, one gets the impression that it is beyond human explanation. It would be folly to try to find some simple plausible human causality. Pauline theology gives pride of place to the empow-erment of grace, and Saul was certainly under the influence of grace. It is not possible to explain this con-version apart from divine grace. Paul helps us with these assertions from his writings: "Have I not seen Jesus, our Lord?" (1 Co 9:1). "Last of all, as one untimely born, he appeared also to me" (1 Co 15:8). Grace found in this man fertile soil that would produce a great extension of the stoW of Jesus, a stoW that would make people aware of the immense, unfolding gift God gave to Saul and to the world on Saul's way to Damascus. Saul's encounter with the risen Lord as he sought to obliterate that Lord's message had a huge influence on him. One of the Apostle's boldest and most profound Review for Religious teachings was that of Christians' being incorporated into Christ's mystical body. For this Pharisee, Paul, Christ becomes all in all; Christ becomes everything. This idea is contained in seminal form in the question Jesus puts to the blinded Saul: "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?" (Ac 9:4). Paul was not attacking Jesus directly; he was defending his Pharisaism by trying to prevent Jews from falling into the ways of this crucified "reformer" of Judaism. In Saul's conversion God's grace is evident, work-ing a transformation immediately. It is like the blinding flash of light. The extraordinary illumination appar-ently brought about Saul's immediate com-pliance with Jesus' words and his swift transformation into a disciple and apostle. The stunned Saul changed his course once and for all. He found himself in a new world, a world almost alien to the life he had lived until then. Paul was overwhelmed by a new faith, a belief in the person of Jesus Christ as his Lord and master. He began a new and demanding life that only a strong and deep faith and love could sustain. He expresses that faith in his Letters to the Galatians and the Romans, an active faith that revolutionizes the whole person and alters the direction of people's lives. From the moment of his conversion the gaze of Saul is riveted on the person of Jesus Christ. We would go too far, however, if we reduced Paul's life to the moment One of the Apostle's boldest and most profound teachings was that of Christians" being incorporated into Christ's mystical body. 391 68.4 2009 Heriot ¯ Encounters Early and Late of his conversion. His continuing deep reflection on the mystery of God's love strengthened him as he went about his apostolic life. Our beliefs, too, are not simply the result of our reading or reflection, but come from God's communication with us, often in the quiet con-templation of a Divine Master stretching out his hand to us and telling us to find him in our contemplative awareness of others and ourselves. 392f The Boy from Becchi, Another Man of Zeal In an audience on 21 March 1858, Pope Pius IX, now Blessed, told the priest from Turin: "When you get back to Turin, Don Bosco, you write down these dreams and everything else you have told me, minutely, and in their natural sense. Save all this as a legacy for your Congregation so that it may serve as an encouragement and norm for your Sons.''2 After nine years this same pope questioned him once again. Don Bosco's reply was "I truthfully lacked the time. I was so taken with [any number of things]." The pope said, "Well then, I not only advise you, but order you to do it." Don Bosco promised to write down his early experiences, and he kept his word.3 In his poor handwriting Don Bosco scrawled out his first dream. "At the age of nine I had a dream that really changed my life and influenced me throughout my life. I dreamed I was near my house at Becchi, and a crowd of young boys had gathered there to have fun and play games. Some were playing, some were laughing, and not a few were cursing. Shocked by their expres-sions, I jumped in among the boys, swinging wildly and shouting at them to stop saying those things. At that moment a Person appeared among us. He was dressed in a long white robe, and his face radiated such light Review for Religious that I could not look at it. Suddenly he called me by name. 'Giovanni, you have to win these boys not by blows but with gendeness and kindness (bont~). So begin right now to show them that evil is ugly and virtue is beautiful.'" Although these words confused him, this little boy, nine years old in 1824, was being commissioned for God's work. He said, "I am so small and these are young men. What you are asking me to do seems to be impos-sible." But he was told: "What seems so impossible, you must achieve by being obedient and acquiring knowledge." The boy shouted, "You ask me to do the impossible!" The voice said, "I will give you a teacher under whose guid-ance you will learn and without whose help all knowl-edge becomes foolishness." Beside this Person stood the Lady to whom young Bosco's mother had taught him to pray regularly. The Lady, taking his hand, said, "Giovanni, look carefully. What do you see?" The crowd of boys was changed into goats, dogs, cats, bears, and various other animals. The Lady of his dream said to him, startlingly: "This is your field of labor." Then she gave him a one-word recipe for getting these boys to improve: "amorevolezza" (loving concern). The wild animals disappeared, having been turned into sheep. The Lady then told him, "In due time you will understand," and with that she put her hand on his head. At table for morning coffee he told his family about his dream. Each one said something different. His "At the age of nine I had a dream that really changed my life and influenced me throughout my life." 393 68.4 2009 Heriot * Encounters Early and Late brother Joseph said, "Oh, Giovanni, you are going to become a farmer looking after sheep and goats, caring for them." His brother Anthony said, "Oh, Giovanni, you are going to become the leader of a gang of ban-dits!" After other such remarks, their wise old grand-mother said in an authoritarian tone: "Giovanni, take no notice of dreams." And Mama Margaret said con-vincingly, "Prepare yourself, Giovanni, for your future apostolate." This, then, is what Pope Pius IX referred to in 1858 when he told Don Bosco: "This is the begin-ning and the foundation of your work. Give this dream to your Congregation and make it a part of their life." On the road to Damascus, Paul was astonished by the voice that changed his life. It had the power to change his life and send him on a new mission. While any comparison of nine-year-old John Bosco's dream to Paul's experience near Damascus would be lopsided, we may remind ourselves that both of them were impelled into a new life, a new apostolate, by mysterious expe-riences beyond usual explanation. Are there not many other divinely wondrous experiences as well? Why not keep them in mind? Notes ~ Fernand Prat, The Theology of St. Paul (London: Burns and Oates, 1964), p. 25. 2 The Biographical Memoirs ofSaintJohn Bosco, ed. Eugene Ceria SDB (New Rochelle, New York: Salesiana Publishers, 1980), vol. 5, p. 577. 3 Ceria, Biographical Memoirs, vol. 1. pp. 95-96. Review for Religious HILDA KLEIMAN On Hilda of Whitby ~ah~na tIr oennt eorre da tfheea msto dnaayst.e Ir yw, Ia hs ando nt orta cisheodse an Catholic, and I was not named after a saint, though I had a lovely name. After I entered, the prioress asked me to choose a patron, and I chose St. Hilda of Whitby. Initially I hesitated to choose her because, generally speaking, we do not know much about her. We know when she was born and died, where she lived, and some of the activities she pursued, activities for which she was well known and respected. But we know little about her character, her spirit, or her inner life. How did the tone of a gathering change when she walked into a room? How did she regard those whose lives and souls were entrusted to her care? Was her glance warm or cool? Did she have a glint in her eye? Answers to these ques-tions seemed permanently unavailable. A few months after I entered my community, I attended a concert given by Festival Chorale Oregon, Hilda Kleiman OSB writes from Queen of Angels Monastery; 840 S. Main Street; Mt. Angel, Oregon 97362. Email: ajkjune@juno.com 68.4 2009 Kleiman ¯ On Hilda of Wbitby a local, award-winning choir directed by Dr. Solveig Holmquist. I had been a student in her college choir for three years at Western Oregon University. I was excited to see her again, even from a distance, even from the back as she conducted the choir. When she entered the concert hall, she was as I had remembered--not tall or physically imposing, yet filled with a presence that shot through her spiky hair, her sharp eyes, and her earrings and many bracelets. I saw a woman in full possession of herself and the situation at hand. She stood before the choir and the orchestra, and they knew what to do sim-ply by the movements of her hands and a thin baton. I remembered standing before her with my eyes on every move she made. In every gesture, every expression, she embodied musician and conductor. She made the vocalists and musicians one as we let her lead us--as, with our minds but also our hearts, we let her be our breath to the very last note. When Dr. Holmquist arrived at Western, she had clearly learned how to draw people together. Shortly after being hired, she was told there were no students at Western who could really sing. Given that this was untrue, and even uncharitable, Dr. Holmquist did not listen. She simply set up a table at the activities fair at the beginning of the school year and started signing students up for auditions. By the end of the year, she had set the choral music program on its feet, doubling the size of the choir, planning tours, and establishing a student-led choir council. I began to see that music was Dr. Holmquist's life, and part of that life was invit-ing the rest of us into the music in whatever way was appropriate for each of us. I loved her for it, and I still do. Though I do not think I would have used the word at the time, I see now Review for Religious that what I received from Dr. Holmquist was a deep and vigorous image of vocation. I have no doubt that through the music she is doing what God created her to do. Shortly before I graduated, I tried to say as much to her. In her office one morning, I described what I saw in her. I said I was not a born musician like her, but rather a writer and a reader, and I was looking for my own purpose in life. The day I attended the Festival Chorale concert was November 17th, the feast day of St. Hilda, and the first time I observed her feast day as my own. As I watched and remembered Dr. Holmquist, some of the reasons why I choose Hilda began to emerge. It was not about wanting to be an abbess as Hilda was, any more than it was about wanting to be a cho- , ral conductor. It was not about imitation in such a specific sense, but about living in the presence of someone who could play a part in calling me to be who I am supposed to be and to do what I am meant to do. It was about the profound effect just one person who is living her vocation may have on those around her. If I imagined myself as a member of Hilda's monastery, much as I had been a member of Dr. Holmquist's choir, what could I learn about who I am supposed to be here and now? It was about the profound effect just one person who is living her vocation may have on those around her. 397 The Venerable Bede, an English monk and writer of the 8th century, is our sole source of historical infor- 68.4 2009 Kleiman ¯ On Hilda of Wbitby marion on Hilda. After serving as the abbess of several monasteries, she established at Whitby a double monas-tery, a community of monks and nuns. In his history of the English church, Bede tells us she taught those within her community to study the Scriptures thoroughly, to observe good works, and to foster many virtues, "but especially peace and charity." In part, the influence of her goodness was seen in the five outstanding men from her monastery who became bishops. In addition to her own monks and nuns, others from all walks of society sought her direction. In this way Hilda, "whom all her acquaintances called Mother because of her wonderful devotion and grace," guided many people to God along the path of their particular gifts and circumstances. Bede also gives us the story of Caedmon, a shy sheep-herder whom "God's grace made remarkable." One night Caedmon received a vision from God in which a man asked him to compose and sing him a song. Caedmon answered that he could not sing, and the man replied "But you shall sing to me," and he did, thus becom-ing the first poet of the English language. When Hilda learned of Caedmon's gift, she invited him to become a monk and be instructed in sacred history, which he then rendered into beautiful music and poetry. Caedmon soon became not just a poet but a disciplined and beloved member of the community as well. At his death he asked if there were any who held any ill will against him, and he was assured that there was not. When then asked if he was at peace with those attending him, he replied, "I am at peace with all the servants of God." Among well-known events of church history, Whitby is known as the site of the synod in 664 at which the controversy between the Celtic and Roman dates for observing Easter was resolved. The problem disturbed Review for Religious many people, Bede tells us, even to the point that they feared "that they might have received the name Christian in vain." Those arguing for the Roman date were victo-rious, yet Bede describes Hilda and her community as favoring the Celtic practice. While he tells us the results of the synod, Bede does not describe Hilda's response to the decision. We do not know if in the end she was saddened, relieved, or pleased. From what we do know about her leadership, however, we can perhaps assume that many looked to Hilda for guidance as to how they should respond to this decision. We can see the great respect she had for the Scriptures and the wisdom of the church. We can see that she taught those around her to be of service in all peace and charity. Even as she neared her death, she urged those in her monastery to "maintain the gospel peace among themselves and with others." I imagine that Hilda had a profound sense of perspective, of knowing, in the end, which beliefs and practices held priority. Unity within the church mat-tered more than any particular date, and gracious accep-tance of the decision of the synod mattered more than the content of the arguments. I was aware of St. Hilda before I was a Catholic because I attended St. Hilda's Episcopal Church for sev-eral years during high school and college. St. Hilda's is a small community; the church holds perhaps fifty peo-ple on a Sunday. I met the vicar, Noel Knelange, when I first arrived, and about a year later Noel's husband Bill was ordained a deacon. I attended the ordination and sang in the choir, helping to lead the congregation out of the church singing "The King's Highway" for the recessional. During the service I was taken aback 399 68.4 2009 Kleiman ¯ On Hilda of Whitby Bill's ordination gave me the image of dedicating one's life to God alone, and Noel, bluntly and without~ pretense; connected ~that image, to me, 400] by the beauty of the liturgy and the fact that Bill was grounding his life and identity in his faith. Somehow God wanted him. God wanted exactly who Bill was, a middle-aged man, a deaf man deeply involved with the deaf community of the diocese, a man who loved to fish so much that during the homily the bishop gave him a new fishing pole, now that he would be a fisher of men. Afterwards, during the reception in the parish hall, I was standing near Bill and Noel, probably eating a cookie, when Noel turned to me and said, "Well, you could do this too you know!" What? I did not want to be a deacon or a priest. I did not understand why she said that, and we never talked about it later. I forgot about Noel's words until after I had become a Catholic and been a member of the Benedictine Sisters of Mt. Angel, Oregon, for several years--even though I had often wondered when the thought of becoming a nun first came to me. Bill's ordination gave me the image of dedicating one's life to God alone, and Noel, bluntly and without pretense, connected that image to me. The seed of the idea of staking everything on "the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen," as we read in the Letter to the Hebrews, was planted and would take root in ways I never suspected. Just a few years Review for Religious later, I was led to the Catholic Church, to a Benedictine monastery, and to a surprising new relationship with St. Hilda, a relationship reflected in women like Solveig Holmquist and Noel Knelange. Regardless of whether they were aware of all the details, they could and would change the course of a life in a single breath, with a single word. The name Hilda comes from the Old English and means "Battle Maiden," a fact I learned only after I received the official word from .the prioress that I could take Hilda as my new name at my final profession. I took to the image of the Battle Maiden immediately--the tension between toughness and gentleness, knowledge and innocence, between what we think we know and what we in fact do not, a tension not to be resolved but used as ingeniously as possible until the day of death. Other people have taken to my choice of the name Hilda, to the "Batde Maiden" too. "Battle on, maiden!" says my mom before she hangs up the phone. After ask-ing me to explain the meaning of Hilda to my class-mates, one of my seminary professors warns that "from now on, you gendemen better look out!" The best, how-ever, is my friend Ania. With her I have established The Society of Honorary Battle Maidens. We have taken as our charter the words of St. Paul to the Corinthians: "But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, to show that the transcendent power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed, perplexed, but not driven to despair, persecuted, but not forsaken, struck down, but not destroyed, always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies." To bet- 401 68.4 2009 Kleiman ¯ On Hilda of Wbitby ter understand our society, I have listed qualities of the Battle Maiden, which include the following and will surely be added to as I ponder this further: ¯ A persistent love, grounded in the love of God that pursues us without end. She can keep extending her love for other people, regardless of how they respond, if at all. If she feels hurt by this, she takes it to mean that her efforts were not the most gracious way to love this particular person, and it is time to try something else. She is intelligent, so her persistence does not suggest beating her head against a wall, but rather keeping her wits about her and being willing, always willing, to try again. ¯ The beginning of an understanding of the fourth step of humility in the Rule of St. Benedict: "The fourth step of humility is that, in this obedience under diffi-cult, unfavorable, or even unjust conditions, his [or her] heart quietly embraces suffering and endures it without weakening or seeking escape." She does not, in the end, resent that this step asks her to endure injustice, even contradiction, for the sake of the God she loves. She accepts that sometimes such endurance will require her to speak her mind, to name what is difficult, recognizing that endurance can be more than just waiting for the bad to run its course. Bravery of heart becomes part of her core. She understands that false sisters and broth-ers (and are not we all false and contradictory at one time or another) are part of reality; to deny this is of no use to anyone. She uses their words and actions to strengthen her reliance on the Lord so that it remains possible for her to pray for her enemies. ¯ An enduring kindness that she tries to exercise in any situation, par.ticularly in her words. At times, she may manifest her kindness in ways that are more tra- Review for Religious ditionally recognized as kindness--offering to lend a hand in household tasks, greeting guests with courtesy and assisting them in their needs, acknowledging the accomplishments of others with a sincere compliment. Kindness, however, is also needed in more challenging situations. It is a kindness to try to change the sub-ject when she hears murmuring or gossip about some-one who is not present. It is a kindness to walk away and not participate even by listening when this tactic fails, perhaps biting back the words rising in her throat that she would like to put everyone in their place with. Kindness calls her to address only in private any embar-rassing situations that involve another person, so as not to worsen the pain her words would likely cause if spo-ken publicly. To enjoy membership in The Society of Honorary Battle Maidens, you and I do not need to be in full possession of these qualities. We do need, however, to recognize their worth and strive to live with their inher-ent tensions, tensions that in the end are simply the tensions of the cross. Image Bearer One of a kind, Here for a reason, Plucked from the mire, Now wearing white, Bearing His likeness, I am immortal, A soul crafted By the Holy. Teresa Burleson 403 68.4 2009 Vv'ILLIAM PROSPERO World Youth Day and Religious Life sharing experience 40_4] Many vocation directors will confirm that a substantial number of candidates for seminar-ies and institutes of consecrated life consider a World Youth Day (WYD) experience to have been an important part of their discernment. Many candidates say they first thought seri-ously about religious life or the priesthood while on a WYD pilgrimage. What is it about WYD that promotes consecrated life? Sister Joseph Andrew, of the Dominican Sisters of Mary, Mother of the Eucharist, asked me to speak about this very topic at a recent discernment retreat at the motherhouse in Ann Arbor. No less than a hundred 'thirty young women attended. When I asked how many had been to WYD, about one third raised their hands. The main reason for "only" a third, I William Prospero SJ is pastor of St. Mary's University Parish (on the campus of Central Michigan University); 1405 South Washington; Mount Pleasant, Michigan 48858. Emaih will.prospero@stmarycmu.org Review for Religious believe, is that most of them were too young to have attended any other WYD than the one in 2008 in Sydney, Australia. Sydney did not draw huge numbers from the United States because of the travel cost. Nonetheless, many of the young women present had managed to attend that WYD. I believe there are several reasons why WYD pro-motes consecrated life and priesthood. Though I do not have any statistical analysis to prove my points, I have a wealth of experience assisting young WYD pil-grims in their discernment about consecrated life or priesthood. I have attended four WYDs: Denver (1993), Toronto (2002), Cologne (2005), and Sydney (2008). I have served as a priest on the last three. I have wit-nessed more than ten pilgrims enter religious life or the seminary. The main reason, I believe, for the wealth of WYD vocations is that WYD gives a taste of life as a conse-crated person. Pilgrims experience about two weeks of consecrated living. WYD provides a veritable "trial run" of living the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. In. living the vows on WYD, pilgrims experience the intense joy of the universal church gathered around the pope. They make the connection that living as a religious could be enjoyable and meaningful. The possibility of consecrated vocation becomes real for the first time in many pilgrims' lives. Pilgrims experience poverty the first day of com-mitting to go on WYD. They realize that the costs can be high. As I began recruiting for Sydney, I recall sev-eral students resisting, sa.ying $2,850 was too costly. My response was: "Do you want to go? Has God put this desire in your heart? If so, then commit and the money will come. I promise. And, if not, I will personally cover 405 68.4 2OO9 Prospero ¯ World Youth Day and Religious Life Trusting God for material needs is a tangible experience of religious poverty. 406 whatever you can't. But you must promise you will com-mit to this and try your best to raise the funds. I prom-ise you, God will provide." Every pilgrim had enough funds. On four WYDs I have never met a pilgrim who fell short of funds. For the 2008 WYD in Sydney, we took seventy pilgrims from the Diocese of Saginaw, each paying $2,850. There are stories of pilgrims finding funds flow-ing in from fund-raisers and from the most unexpected sources. Trusting God for material needs is a tangible experience of reli-gious poverty: God provides. Pilgrims trust him, and all works out. From the beginning, they learn that those who commit to a reli-gious pilgrimage are cared for by God. They learn this throughout WYD, beginning with their first moment of commitment. Poverty finds many manifestations, usually very inconvenient ones. As the pilgrimage officially begins, I speak of the "great ball of suffering" that one endures on WYD. For some reason, chaos and inconvenience reign. This makes trusting God mandatory, not optional. For example, because of delayed flights, our travel time from our departure to our host parish in Kiama, south of Sydney, was thirty-eight hours. And the last two hours were in a bus with a broken heater (it was winter there) while rain and forty Fahrenheit degrees of damp cold were welcoming us. These horrendous situations created the proper spirit in which to celebrate Mass, Revie;v for Religious namely, our sense of spiritual and actual poverty: "We are not in control!" Having celebrated Mass at a crowded boarding gate in the Los Angeles airport (LAX), we found special meaning in celebrating Mass again, hungry and cold, at the very end of our trip. I was reminded of the four thousand hungry and tired people in Mark 6:1-8 who were worn out from their journey, so Jesus fed them. It was as if Jesus intentionally brought the people out to a deserted place to experience their poverty and to see and taste the goodness of God. Poverty makes pilgrims hungry for Jesus. Another example of poverty happened at the Papal Welcome at Sydney's harbor. Afterwards we were hun-gry and cold. Several pilgrims collected our chits or tickets and got our meals, bags of hot stew (option: beef or pork). After getting the same victuals several days in a row, pilgrims were cheerfully dubbing them "barf bags." Our meals were being eaten on the ground or on cement blocks or wherever we could prop ourselves up. One night, however, several alert pilgrims found some plastic chairs and brought enough over for the group of seventy to sit. We could sit and eat! We were so grate-ful. I cannot recall ever feeling so grateful for having a chair to sit on. This is what WYD does: it makes the ordinary into a gift from God. Once one begins to see that everything, everything, is a gift, then one can start living a radical Christian life. So the gift of sitting, eat-ing, enjoying each other's company, and basking in the reality that we just saw in person the Vicar of Christ, all add up to an explosive experience of the joys of the kingdom. Poverty makes human experience more real, and opens us to the true value of community. How sim-ple and uncomplicated it all is. 407 68.4 2009 Prospero ¯ Worm Youth Day and Religious Life Over and over one witnesses pilgrims making sacrifices for the sake of the group. 4081 If pilgrims are properly prepared and guided, they have a wonderful experience of interacting positively with the opposite sex. Even sleeping conditions, oth-erwise inappropriate, become an experience of intense respect and honor of boundaries. One sees the "other" as sacred and as a fellow pilgrim on the way, some-one to be honored and respected. I have never known of any of our pil-grims engaging in actions that are meant for mar-ried couples. Sleeping shoulder to shoulder with two thousand other pilgrims may seem cause for temptation and raised eyebrows, but never have I seen anything but excellent moral behavior among our pilgrims. Even where there are dating couples, they hardly ever "pair off" from the group. The whole atmosphere is one of intense commu-nal living. People are attentive to the needs of everyone, sharing and caring for one another. The pilgrim learns that one does not need to pursue or engage in roman-tic relationships to be happy. Celibacy for the kingdom becomes tangible, livable, and enjoyable. At WYD the intense communal activities, which sometimes involve distressing conditions and both-ersome inconveniences that must be endured, build a joyful esprit de corps. Over and over one witnesses pilgrims making sacrifices for the sake of the group. Opportunities for minor sacrifices abound, such as shar-ing personal items to assist another in need and collect-ing meal tickets and standing in line to retrieve meals for a group. These and other sacrifices reveal acom- Review for Religious mon care for one another. Moreover, the group lead-ers have the ultimate say in all major decisions about travel, gatherings, agendas, and special needs that arise. Individual wills give way to the group, or to the lead-ers' decisions. Through these experiences one finds joy in sacrificing one's own will for the good of the group, opening up to the gift of religious obedience. Consecrated persons make a sacrifice of their lives for the good of the church and the world. Pilgrims experience the power of loving sacrifice firsthand, and its power to build up the Body of Christ. Eddie Dwyer, a Saginaw seminarian, said: "Three things I hate are lines, sitting on the floor, and crowded spaces, but the love at WYD made sacrifice easy." All these experiences find rich meaning in the cel-ebration of the sacraments, namely, confession and Eucharist. The intensity of confessions, celebrations of Holy Mass, and Eucharistic adoration affirms God's real presence among his people. All the sufferings and joys of pilgrimage are offered up to the Father in the won-derful exchange of gifts that the Eucharist makes real. All is gift. As a priest I am overwhelmed by the power and joy of the priesthood, by the sacramental fruitful-ness on WYD. What power can be manifested in such weakness! The Papal Mass at the conclusion of WYD provides the perfect environment for the overflowing gratitude of the pilgrimage to express itself. Pilgrims, freshly and deeply aware of God's goodness, gratefully share their belongings with others. Jackets, caps, and an assortment of other personal items are offered and received in a wonderful exchange of gifts. God's kingdom becomes visible in everyone giving their things away to bring joy to both receiver and giver. In his Spiritual Exercises 409 68.4 2009 Prospero ¯ Worm Youth Day and Religious Life St. Ignatius Loyola speaks of the free exchange of gifts between those who love each other (§231). This is the Christian life. As church and bride of Christ, we receive every good thing from God and make an offering of our very selves back to him in gratitude. This joyous exchange finds particular power at the Papal Mass. The accumulation and possession of .things no longer has appeal. The giving and receiving of love becomes the reason for existing. Consecrated life witnesses to the joy of the kingdom of heaven through the. gift of self to God. The Papal Mass provides a taste of the joy offered to those who radically take up the call to follow Christ the Bridegroom wherever he goes. As I lead pilgrims to WYD, I make a point of having several priests, seminarians, and religious sisters accom-pany us. When lay pilgrims rub shoulders with conse-crated persons, consecrated life now has a face, and that face is familiar and human. No longer is the question of consecrated life somewhere off in the distance, but it is real and lived by real people. The possibility of consecrated vocation opens up as the joys of serving the kingdom find witness. I count WYD the single most important vocation promotion ministry that I do. 410 Review for Religious BENNY PHANG Marriage and Celibacy: Rivals or Complements? MMarriage and celibacy are often seen as contraries. isunderstanding about these two vocations still exists among many people who do not fully under-stand celibacy for the sake of the kingdom of heaven or the meaning of marriage. They see marriage as con-trary to celibacy, totally separated from it, and unable to contribute anything to it. And they understand celibacy as merely a pessimistic, negative rejection of married life and love. They even think celibacy is responsible for many sexual problems. About these matters people raise critical questions such as: Is marriage contrary to celibacy or even a rival? Is marriage a higher and better state than celibacy, or is it the other way around? Does marriage confirm celibacy or devalue it? If marriage confirms celibacy, how does it do so? Benny Phang OCarm, an Indonesian priest studying at the Angelicum for a doctorate in moral theology, can be addressed at Centro Internazionale Sant'Alberto; Via Sforza Pallavicini, 10; 00193 Roma, Italy. Blog: theouiosoter.blogspot.com 411 68.4 2009 Pbang ¯ Marriage and Celibacy On this topic I want to draw some reflections from the messages of Pope John Paul II (collected in Theology of the Body), from the critical reflection on celibacy in the Catholic Church written by Aloysius Pieris sJ, and from the experience of St. Th~r~se of Lisieux of her vocation to religious life. Marriage and celibacy, are interrelated. To hurt either one by being unfaithful in it also hurts the other. 412- Rival Vocations? In the Gospel according to Matthew, Jesus places the counsel of celibacy in the discussion of the impor-tance of marriage, when he argues against divorce (Mt 19:3-12). Pope John Paul confirms this, saying, "[From Matthew's Gospel, Mt 19:10-12], it can be seen sufficiently clearly that here it is not a question of diminishing the value of matrimony in favor of continence, nor of less-ening the value of one in comparison with the other.''1 "Christ's words on this point are quite clear. He proposes to his disciples the ideal of continence and the call to it, not by reason of the inferiority of, or of prejudice against, conjugal union in the body, but only for the sake of the kingdom of heaven.''2 One can, however, argue for St. Paul's position when he writes, "So then, he who marries his fiancee does well; and he who refrains from marriage will do better" (1 Co 7:38). Does this Pauline text not mean that mat-rimony is good, but celibacy for the kingdom of heaven is better?3 Review for Religious We need to comprehend the reason for celibacy in the evangelical counsel. Jesus says, "There are eunuchs who have made themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. Let anyone accept this who can" (Mt 19:12). This is the only reason for the evangelical counsel of celibacy. The reason is not to devalue marriage, but for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. To understand the "difference" between Jesus and Paul as regards celibacy and marriage, John Paul gives us an insight: In his pronouncement, did Christ perhaps suggest the superiority of continence for the kingdom of heaven to matrimony? Certainly he said that this is an excep-tional vocation, not a common one. In addition he affirmed that it is especially important and necessary to the kingdom of heaven. If we understand superiority to matrimony in this sense, we must admit that Christ set it out implicitly. However, he did not express it direcdy. Only Paul will say of those who choose matri-mony that they do "well." About those who are willing to live in voluntary continence, he will say that they do "better" (! Co 7:38). (Theology, p. 275) The conscious and voluntary renunciation of the conjugal love of marriage and family life by celibate per-sons is not a devaluation of marriage, but it is a form of self-sacrifice. John Paul explains: "Christ understood the importance of such a sacrifice . He understood the

Issue 59.4 of the Review for Religious, 2000. ; )ULY: AUGUST 2000 VOLUME 59 NUMBER 4 to Gbd~s ,univerial call, to holiness by ~n~aking available :to tb~mJtbe~piritual legaHes }bat flow from tbe cbarism~ of Catbolic ~onse~ated 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: foppema@slu.edu 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 P.O. Box 29260; ~VVashington, D.C. 20017 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. ©2000 Re'biew for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (article~, 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 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. 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 James and Joan Felling Adrian Gaudin SC Kathryn Richards FSP Joel Rippinger OSB Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ ¯ Patricia Wittberg SC JULY AUGUST 2000 VOLUME 59 NUMBER 4 contents 342 women religious Another Window on the Crisis in Women's Communities Mary Anne Foley CND presents the renewal of women's communities as a work in progress which faces the challenge to move beyond .present viewpoints in order to see a fuller truth. 358 A Path of Humility and Truth: Historical Reminiscence Bernadine Pieper CHM shares her experience of being in leadership at the time of Vatican II changes. 368 finding God Einding God's WiII--A Maneuver W. Henry Kenney Sj describes a process for finding God's will by popping loaded questions to God in prayer and noticing the pattern of desolations or consolations. 379 Consulting Your Inner Wisdom Hilary Ottensmeyer OSB guides us to the central core of ourselves where we hear the echoes of the voice of Jesus and of all the good people who have been examples of faith and good conduct for us. Review for Religious religious vocations Tell Them, Tell the New Members. Eileen P. O'Hea CSJ proposes the need to share with younger members of congregations hints about what is most central to religious life: the mystery of divine intimacy. 396 Sister Moms: Something Old, Something New Louise Cababe OP reports on the contemporary phenomenon of women, having been married and having raised a family, bringing a new and beautiful experience to religious congregations. 399 Vocational Confidence Donald Macdonald SMM sketches out an environment of vocational confidence whei'e vocations are invited, expected, challenged, and supported. 410 prayer perspectives Praying through Sleep A. Paul Dominic SJ explores various relationships between our sleeping and our praying. 420 Toward a Spirituality of Weariness Michael D. Moga SJ considers some of the paths that lead to spiritual treasures hidden in the areas of our exhaustion and weariness. departments 340 Prisms 430 Canonical Counsel: Exceptions to Duration of the Canonical Novitiate 435 Book Reviews July-August 2000 prisms Te jubilee year we are cele-brating provides us a challenge to our observance of the Sabbath. Sabbath has always been identified with the seventh day--the day of the Lord's rest after the six days' work of creation as depicted in chapter one of.the Book of Genesis. The Christian tradition reidentified the Lord's day with the resurrection victory of Jesus, bringing to fullness the work of redemption. The idea of refraining from work has often received greater attention even though the church has always identified "making holy" the Lord's day--Sunday--by the twofold obligation of celebrating the Eucharist and doing no servile work. Of course, there h~s been a lot of moral casuistry applied to the meaning of servile work, so much, perhaps, that the focus on God slipped because of the overwhelming emphasis on human activity--what was right, what was wrong, how long or how drudging could the work be, and so On. Pe.rhaps this year of jubilee can be a call to us to mov~ beyond the casuistry and to recapture the spirit of the Sabbath. Sabbath means, above all, a chosen awareness of spending time with God. If we are to spend time with God, then we have to take time for ourselves--not just time filled up with more "doing," even .with passive sporting events or active participations in games, but time which we describe so well today in terms of just "being." Sabbath is meant to be a deeply humane time because then God can become more active in us. Sabbath points to the movement of the oft-quoted expression of St. Irenaeus: "God's glory is the human being come fully alive, and seeing God is what human life is." Review for Religqous Eucharist belongs to the Christian Sunday observance because we celebrate God's glory shining out in the victorious risen Jesus, the firstborn of the new creation. But what else for us belongs to our Sabbath observance? What enhances our relationship with God? In other words, how do we devote time to making ourselves more humane--loving, compassionate, wise, generous, available, shar-ing- so that God's glory does shine out now through us? When we truly observe the Sabbath, we are more and more like the sacra-ments of God that our Christian vocation calls us to be. Another viewpoint. In the northern hemisphere, vacation time is upon us. Vacation, being personal rest time, shares in the sabbath notion. We sometimes refer to spiritual retreats as "vacations with God." Retreats, of course, take their focus from considering our relation with God. But would we be acting more Christian if we viewed ordinary vacation time through a prism similar to our Sunday observance? Vacation time does not need to be spent "reli-giously," performing devotional prayers and acts. But would it not be appropriate for us Christians to spend our recuperative and relaxing time with a more spiritual focus? Vacation means a time of "emptying out" (of mental cobwebs and secular preoccupations) and a "leaving space" (for attention to an ever present and loving God) in the ordinariness of our life. "Keep holy the sabbath day," then, should draw our attention not to what is to be avoided, but to what enhances our relationship with God, with ourselves, with our neighbor, and with our world. Those relationships are meant to be observed together, as a whole, when we speak of "keeping holy." Keeping holy deals with all our relationships viewed in the light of God and Jesus Christ. 'When we keep holy, we move with the Spirit. We let ourselves be moved by the Spirit--with all those with whom we converse, in all things we do. Jubilee, sabbath, and our secular vacation all find their mean-ing in the one reality of celebrating God in our life. This millen-nium year is the opportunity to remember thht jubilees, sabbaths, and vacations come to us not by some kind of law or right, but by gift--the gift of God. These time periods remind us to take stock and enjoy the God-with-us now so that we take from these "moments" the realized promise and consolation of our lifetime with God forever. ¯David L. Fleming SJ 37uly-August 2000 women MARY ANNE FOLEY Another Window on the Crisis in Women's Communities religious Last year I spent much of Holy Week working my way through Ann Carey's Sisters in Crisis: The Tragic Unraveling of Women's Religious Communities.l The book's reviews did not make me anxious to read it, but I felt obliged to do so. For some years most of my research has focused on the history of religious communities of women, and my concerns about initiating new members have forced me to confront questions about the future of this way of life. Moreover, having lived through the tumultuous past three decades of change in women's communities, I have wanted and needed to gain some perspective on the experience) Although not planned, the timing of my reading proved to be both appropriate and helpful. I felt pain and anger at seeing the women who were most instru-mental in leading the changes characterized as deliber-ately manipulative, bent on revenge, unfaithful, and heretical, and those who moved with the changes they advocated, as naive, foolish, or incapable of under-standing what was taking place. At another time I might have been inclined simply to dismiss Carey's work, but reading it in the shadow of the cross enabled me to lis- Mary Anne Foley CND, a member of the Congregation of Notre Dame of Montreal, is an associate professor of the-ology at the University of Scranton; Scranton, Pennsylvania 18510. Review fir Religious ten to what was being said under and through the words, and hence to become vulnerable to it. It was somewhat like the expe-rience of reading The Autobiography ofMakolm X. I knew I was not the "white devil" he came to loathe while in prison, but I began to see why he viewed me in that way and then to recognize my own complicity in his hellish situation. Carey's stated intention is simply to document the significant changes that have taken place within Catholic communities of women in the United States over the last forty years. She does so as a journalist, relying not on her own experience but on personal conversations and extensive archival research. The book's subtitle, however, reveals the perspective from which she writes. She is convinced that the changes have been an aberration, leading these groups away from genuine religious life. Carey belieyes that the sis-ters most disaffected as a result of the changes are afraid to speak for themselves, and so shehas chosen to speak for them. While always naming the "change-oriented" sisters she cites, she often identifies her sources among "traditional" sisters only by the name of their congregation or as Sister S., for example) One of these anonymous sources insists that many older religious are experi-encing "a time of martyrdom" as they risk being "cut off, threat-ened, and persecuted" if they challenge the directions their communities have taken (Crisis, 309). Whether or not this sister represents the views of many others, and even whether or not the threat she describes is real, it is important that she be heard, and Carey challenges the reader to listen. According to Sisters in Crisis, the reason for what emerged during the postconciliar years was, first of all, a program of mis-information concerning authentic Vatican Council II teaching, orchestrated prifiaarily by officers of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR), known earlier as the Conference of Major Superiors of Women (CMSW). Carey traces the rebellion back to the Sister Formation Movement in the 1950s, which exposed young sisters to the social sciences and "controversial and speculative" theology. The Sisters' Survey of 1966-1967, con-ducted by the CMSW, is presented as playing a key role in "indoc-trinating" sisters about possible new directions for change. The definitive step in the process of "co-opting" and "stealing" the renewal is said to be the "coup" by which the officers of the CMSW altered the nature of their organization by arranging for a revision of its bylaws and changing its name from CMSW to LCWR. At var- July-August 2000 Foley ¯ Another Window on the Crisis ious points in the process, in Carey's view, the Vatican issued clear mandates to return to a more controlled process of renewal, but these leaders refused to obey. Opposing Perspectives Since Lora Quifionez and Mary Daniel Turner were among the leaders of the LCWR during the 1970s and 1980s, it is not sur-prising that their interpretation of the last forty years is diamet-rically the opposite of Carey's. As a result, reading their book, The Transformation of the American Catholic Sister, in conjunction with Sisters in Crisis was both fascinating and unsettling. According to Quifionez and Turner, the changes in women's communities are not the result of a plan devised by a few politically astute activists and then foisted upon an undereducated and unsuspecting mass of sisters. Rather, the transformation of these communities reflects a maturing of American sisters at large; that is, they have grown more conscious of their identity as Americans, as women, and as moral agents? Given this difference in interpretation, it is interesting to note the substantial agreement of these two works on the importance of the Sister Formation movement and especially the LCWR in shap-ing the last forty years of religious life in the United States. Both are clear that the Sisters' Survey went beyond its original purpose of assessing the readiness of American sisters and the availability of resources for the renewal mandated by Vatican II. Both con-clude that the survey itself affected that renewal. And both main-tain that underlying the changes was a new belief among sisters in the validity of their experience. As Carey describes it, "some women religious determined that their own 'lived experience' was more valid for defining religious life than were any of the direc-fives coming from the church" (Crisis, 75). Quifionez and Turner not only agree; they chart the emergence of that beliefi "Sisters began to notice that even long-held and never-to-be-challenged philosophical and theological premises lent themselves to the pur-poseful sounding of experience, personal and social. Experience possessed its own authority" (Transformation, 38). More significant still is the fact that neither work acknowl-edges the possibility that those whose perspective on renewal is different could contribute something toward a more profound renewal. This is more apparent in Sisters in Crisis. Although Carey Revie~v for Religious admits that at times ignorance may have played a role in the deci-sions that were made, for the most part she attributes baser motives to the main actors: "Some religious institutes purposely expanded the years between general chapters so that experiments could be stretched out. Others purposely incorporated items into their con-stitutions that they knew would never be approved by Rome so they could continue experimenting endlessly" (Crisis, 38-39). Quifionez and Turner are far more nuanced in their expression, and they do not impute motivation to such groups as the Consortium Perfectae Caritatis, which consisted largely of community leaders who had renounced membership in the LCWR. However, the absence of any critique of actions taken by the LCWR makes the reader suspect that their account may not be as objective as it first appears. This becomes particularly evi-dent in the concluding chapter of Tran~Corrnation, where Quifionez and Turner list questions to be resolved if religious communities of women are to have a future in the United States. They accurately iden-tify one of the key questions: Is it helpful or even honest to retain canonical status? But they proceed to a further series of questions, all of which imply that the only possible answer to the question of canonical status is no. Moreover, in noting that the hierarchy and the sisters must face the questions honestly, they assert that such a process "will exact a different price from each of them. For the hierarchy it will mean giving up dominative ways of governing; for sisters it will entail laying claim to rightful uses of power. For both, it will involve owning that they are peers, no matter how distinct their role in the church" (Transformation, 167). Tran~orrnation offers ample evidence of "dominative ways of governing" by members of the hierarchy, and even Carey admits that the church officials have been "obstinate" at times. These few words seem to imply that only the hierarchy has misused power and that sisters' only sin has been the failure to use it. This would surely be an oversimplification, of a sort that would tend to polarize further those who disagree about the direction the changes have taken. Underlying the changes was a new belief among sisters in the validity of their experience. July-Auffust 2000 S#ters in Crisis was published five years after Transformation and appears to be intended in part as a response to that work, a sort of revisionist history. While Quifionez and Turner did not have the opportunity to respond to Carey's assertions directly, the current leadership of the LCWR responded by claiming that the women in American religious, communities today are not "sisters in crisis," but rather "sisters in service."s There is truth in this assertion. Many of those castigated by Carey really are performing service of inestimable value, and for them to focus more on that service than on institutional survival does not call for the word "tragic" in Carey's subtitle. But that is not to say that I think there is no ~ri-sis. 6 It has been common in recent years to refer to the two Chinese characters that together convey the meaning of crisis, one referring to danger and the other to opportunity. Carey is right: there is a real danger that women's religious communities as we have known them in the United States will become extinct. But the LCWR leadership is also right in noting that the service which women's communities offer indicates a time of great poten-tial. Here I offer some reflections on how the opportunity pre-sent in this moment of crisis may be recognized and embraced. A Window of Opportunity The story is told of two men seated in the same room in a library. One was very hot and opened the room's only window. The other, afraid that his papers would blow all over, immediately closed, it, only to have it reopened by the first. The reaction of the other can be guessed. When the librarian saw the brewing conflict, she went into the next room and opened the window there, thus providing cool air without creating a disruptive, breeze.7 It seems to me that those who find themselves in deadlock on how women's communities have come to be where they are need to discover another window through which to view the last three decades. For this they may well be helped by James Fowle~:'s the-ory of faith development. For Fowler faith is a verb; it is how a per-son makes meaning of the world. We tend to "faith" in a particular way until that way of making meaning no longer works for us and compels us to make meaning differently; this he describes as a new "stage" of faith.8 During adolescence, for example, many peo-ple begin to base their faith on that of the significant people in their lives. They may have reflected deeply on what they believe Review for Religious and can probably describe the content of their faith, but it is largely tacit. Later the demands of adult life, particularly in a culture no longer homogeneous, often move people toward Individuative- Reflexive faith. Those in this stage can articulate the reasons for their faith. In addition, the source of authority for their faith has moved inward, so that they believe because they have chosen to believe. Even if the content.of their faith remains the same, it has become their own.9 Fowler notes that, as a result of midlife stocktaking, some adults experience yet another transition, to what he calls Conjunctive faith, in which they can peacefully hold their own belief while truly listening to another whose belief is different. No longer do they perceive difference as an attack on their hard-won faith that must be defended at all costs. Rather, the other person's faith becomes an invitation to deepen and refine their own belief. Such faith is not possible until one has fully moved to the Individuative-Reflexive stage by both internalizing authority and making one's belief explicit. (Otherwise what appears a willingness to allow one's own faith to be influenced by others may simply be a form of the tacit faith that allows others to define what. one believes.) The fruit of Conjunctive faith is real dialogue, which begins with the belief that each one comes to the table with a perspective on the truth and includes the humble acknowledgment ~hat each has in some way failed to serve that truth. Fowler's theory has been applied to the "faithing" process of groups as well as individuals. Of course, not all members of the group are at the same stage at any given time. But the theory can be helpful in describing a group's changing "corporate culture." In the years before the Second Vatican Council, for example, when sisters lived in an environment that exemplified one and the same faith perspective, many were able to make meaning of their world through the tacit faith that the environment supported. As Quifionez and Turner describe that time, "canonical definitions, legislated by church authorities, gave 'religious life' its existence, its legitimacy, and its value" (Transformation, 36). In asking women's communities to return to their sources and to read the signs of The other person's faith becomes an invitation to deepen and refine their own belief 3%dy-dugust 2000 Foley * Another I4andow on the Crisis the times, the council caused them to become more analytical. At the same time, both the changes sisters began to make and the movements in the church and in society around them weakened many of the structures which had reinforced their commitment, so that those who remained were forced to acquire personal reasons for doing so. The movement between external and internalized authority is well illustrated by the responses which the members of LCWR gave to actual and proposed canons of church law in 1968 and 1977. Quifionez and Turner note that these responses differed, not in content, but in the way they were justified: "While in the 1960s sisters invoked Vatican Council II to legitimate their view-points, in 1977 they relied on the authority of their own experience to ground their critique" (Transformation, 56). This suggests that Carey is mistaken in assuming that most changes were the result of a few very influential leaders imposing on the rest their way of seeing the world. That may have been true for some, but, by illus-trating the extent to which "change-oriented" sisters began to appeal to. personal experience, Carey herself provides evidence that in general these women had come to a personally appropri-ated faith?° In my view, profound as this kind of faith may be, it is limited by the tendency to exalt one's internal authority to the extent of being unable to allow one's belief system to be affected by oth-ers. This can make it almost impossible to move together as a group. At a chapter several years ago, it was proposed that the community as a group fast and abstain on Fridays as a sign of their hunger for peace. One person objected vehemently, not to the action in itself, but to committing the whole group to any practice. Her memory of practices imposed in the past seemed to make it impossible for her to accept such a limitation on individual free-dom, even when that limitation was chosen. I believe that the future of religious communities depends on their moving beyond such a stance toward the deeper openness that constitutes what Fowler calls Conjunctive faith. Over the years, many "change-oriented" sisters have looked at and tried on elements of what Carey calls "the latest theological, sociological, psychological--and eventually New Age--fads" (Crisis, 138). She condemns both this and what she considers an excessive tolerance for the views of everyone. It seems to me, how-ever, that for many sisters the opportunity presented by the pre- Review for Religious sent moment is the call to a still greater openness, by which they can allow themselves to truly listen, on the one hand, to new alter-natives and, on the other, to those who question their new ways of understanding and living. Carey does not provide evidence to sup-port her accusation that "change-oriented" communities have deliberately silenced their more traditional members, and yet I believe that in some cases the voices of these sisters have not been heard, or their views have been dismissed as reactionary, irrational, foolish. Any honest dialogue would have to begin with everyone admitting some failure to listen. Openness to dialogue is possible, though certainly most dif-ficult, when the other is not similarly open. Carey speaks of "dia-logue" as if it is often used like a ploy in a game,11 and her position throughout Sisters in Crisis suggests an unwillingness to concede that "change-oriented" sisters could possess a piece of the truth. That, however, does not free the latter from the need to continue discerning where the critique offered by more traditional sisters has its own truth that deserves to be faithfully responded to. Opening a different window on the future requires humble dialogue around many of the issues raised by Carey, among which are the mission and vowed life of sisters, their place in the church, and the impli-cations of "refounding" religious communities. Mission Even though she acknowledges that justice has played an important role in sisters' traditional apostolates, Carey maintains that "change-oriented" sisters have recently replaced their true, "spiritual" mission with social justice as "a new primary mission" (Crisis, 112). For example, she criticizes the choice of nonviolence as the theme of the 1996 LCWR conference, claiming that this reveals "the conference's continuing priority bf placing sociopo-litical issues ahead of spiritual issues" (Crisis, 242). In this.discus-sion she comes close to what Quifionez and Turner describe as the worldview of sisters before 1960, for whom the sacred and the secular occupy two different spheres. The coauthors contend that since then many sisters have moved beyond such a view and "increasingly frame the meaning of their life in terms of the church's evangelizing mission" (Transformation, 59). The bishops at the 1971 synod called "action on behalf of justice., a consti-tutive dimension of the preaching of the gospel."12 In light of that July-./tugust 2000 Foley ¯ ~lnotber Windo~ on the ~ teaching, Carey's apparently outdated perspective seems to have nothing to offer the women about whom Quifionez and Turner write. Indeed, seeing spirituality as somehow pitted against jus-tice is not helpful. This aspect of Carey's position, however, masks an important criticism that "change-oriented" sisters would do well to recognize. Quifionez and Turner state that dedication to mission has comd to encompass the meaning of many sisters' lives. They cite a "grow-ing tendency . to define religious identity as witness against cultural values and attitudes" and assert further that "work and identity are inseparably related" (Transformation, 79 and. 39). In my view, this comes perilously close to insisting not only that my work is my prayer, but that it is my life. This is indeed what our culture often proposes; I consider.it an area where sisters are called to take a countercultural stance. Surely there is a middle path between a spirituality that would have no relation to justice and a life that would collapse itself into work on behalf of justice or any other important value. Carey's articulation of the mission of sisters in apostolic com-munities is not satisfactory, but neither is that of Quifionez and Turner. Hence the need for dialogue around what Carey would call the "spiritual" .mission of sisters. Such dialogue could very well occur in the context of the vowed life. Vows Carey claims that many elderly sisters who disapprove of the directions in which their congregations have moved "take very seriously the vows they made, and they are not only disturbed that religious life has been fundamentally restructured in their own communities, but even more alarmed that in the restructured model it is difficult, if not impossible, for them to live out the vows they made to God" (Crisis, 306). Nowhere does Sisters in Crisis explain how the restructuring of communities could make it "impossible for them to live out the vows." Perhaps these sisters believe that, for them to fulfill the demands of obedience and poverty, there must be specific persons designated as superiors who give commands and permissions. If so, a system in which decisions about ministry and the use of goods are made commu-nally may never provide what they are demanding. As has already been noted, Quifionez and Turner maintain Review for Religious that the defining element of many sisters' lives is no longer the vows, but rather witness. This suggests that for these women the concerns of the sisters whose perspective Carey shares are irrel-evant. And yet Quifionez and Turner also say, "For a large num-ber of the women, their shared life has to be linked to ultimacy, to the values of the gospel, to the deepest insights of religious tra-ditions" (Transformation, 166). Just how their lives can be "linked to ultimacy" is an ongoing question that must be addressed if there is to be a future for women's communities. It seems to me that addressing it will be difficult as long as the expression is as vague as that given here. I suspect that the word God is omitted because of the desire to be inclusive. To be sure, speaking of God is dangerous, and moreover help on the journey toward God can come from various traditions, including those that do not name God. But one must begin a journey from some point. Sandra Schneiders has pointed out the danger when communities that consider themselves religious have highly indi-vidualized, and eclectic spiritualities unconnected to the Christian tradition in which the communities are rooted. For such groups, she suggests, "the quiet sidelining of Christian .identity believed and practiced in the church is not compatible with their ongoing life and self-renewal as a religious congregation." 13 Over the centuries Christian women and men have sought to link their lives to ultimate, reality, which they have named God, by means of the vows. They have done this not only and, in my view, not primarily as a witness to others, but because God has somehow reached into their lives, and so, in being true to them-selves, they structure their lives around their relationship to God.14 Certainly there is need to reconceive and even reformu-late what is meant by the vows,15 but this must be done with recognition of their connection to the divine and hence of their significance beyond that of any actions .they imply. Vows of this kind must indeed be taken seriously. Surely there is a middle path between a spirituality that would have no relation to justice and a life that would collapse itself into work on behalf of justice. July-duffust 2000 Foley * Another Window on the Crisis Church Quifionez and Turner say, "Central to their quest for mean-ing, we believe, is the identity of sisters as church women" (Transeormation, 166). But, as Eucharia Malone RSM pointed out as early as 1970, "this relationship with the.church seems to be the point on which we are divided" (see Crisis, 95). In fact, the very definition of church is often at the heart of the polarization within and between women's communities. At first glance it is difficult to imagine a rapprochement between the understandings of church espoused by Carey and by Quifionez and Turner. Sisters in Crisis assumes a church in which the initiative comes from the hierarchy. As a result, Carey implies that sisters' meetings held in 1964-1965 to discuss strategies for renewal were subversive because Perfectae caritatis had not yet been promulgated formally)6 What could she have to say to those for whom church is a discipleship of equals, each of whom is responsible for initiating change? Many traditional as well as "change-oriented" groups have claimed to be following the teachings of Vatican II in their very different approaches to renewal. But the council documents them-selves represent compromises between bishops of various per-spectives. They are often ambiguous concerning the church and hence concerning the role of women's communities within the church. The situation is not unlike what followed in the wake of the last reforming council, the Council of Trent. Like Vatican II, Trent carried its own contradictions within itself,, including both a call for widespread education and an insistence on cloister for women ready to dedicate themselves to the education of young women. The conflicts, that resulted were virtually inevitable. Indeed, the experience of the post-Tridentine church calls into question any notion of reform as neat or uniform in application. In general, Carey fails to place the events she narrates within a larger historical context. She takes the American experience of religious life in the first half of.this century as normative and con-sequendy disparages many of the changes that have occurred since then. Research into the foundations of many communities before this century has revealed considerable struggle, especially with members of the hierarchy, over the very issues of ministry and conformity to monastic lifestyle that so concern Carey?7 Her lack of attention to the history of women's communities appears to be related to her sympathy with the representatives of the Consortium Perfectae Caritatis, who wanted discussion with LCWR officials Review for Religious to focus on "absolute truths that would transcend., any age, any period of time, any period of history" (Crisis, 283). Quifionez and Turner, on the other hand, are well aware of the various forms in which what is called "religious life" has mani-fested itself over the centuries, accurately noting that it is always a "historically conditioned" phenomenon.~s They are less attentive, however, to the values sought by sizable numbers of contemporary women and their foremother~. For genuine dialogue to take place, it might be necessary to declare a moratorium on valuing things either as "absolute" or as "historically conditioned." It could go far toward healing not only some of the divisions in women's com-munities, but also some of the woundedness of the larger church. Refounding In her concluding chapter Carey addresses herself to tradi-tional sisters who find themselves in communities that have moved away from what she considers the essence of religious life. She believes that such women may be called to "refound" their com-munities, and so offers a number of recommendations for how that might take place: "This refounding must be accomplished by the sisters within those institutes themselves, for refounding of religious orders cannot be mandated or directed by hierarchy, clergy, or laity, though legitimate refounding efforts should be supported by these other groups of people. In the refounding pro-cess, some members of a religious institute may come to the real-ization that their concept of consecrated life really does not fit the church understanding of a religious institute, and so those women may wish to pursue one of the other forms of consecrated life defined by the church" (Crisis, 328). Carey does not clarify why refounding a community "cannot be mandated or directed by the hierarchy" even though that is precisely what she believes its role should have been during the postconciliar renewal. Equally surprising is the open-ended pro-cess she describes, which it cannot be assumed will conform to the standard definition of a religious institute. Of course she assumes that, if what emerges does not fit that definition, the alter-native is another already defined form. In contrast, Vita consecrata, among other documents, assumes that forms not yet defined are also emerging at the present time.19 . In these comments Carey sketches out, no doubt unwittingly, j~uly-/lugust 2000 Fole~ ¯ Another l~ndow on the Crisis what many perceive to have been going on during all these years since the council: initiatives taken by those within the commu-nity, support for those initiatives from (some) other constituencies in the church, and ~n honest confrontation of the questions that traditional understandings of religious life bring to the fore. The element that Carey believes was missing in so many attempts at renewal is "legitimacy," which she understands to be close con-fortuity to the document "Essential Elements of Religious Life," issued by the Vatican Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes in 1983. Many "change-oriented" sisters and commu-nities consider that sense of legitimacy overly narrow, but in so doing they seem often to have acted as if all changes were equally legitimate. I believe that Carey and others have rightly criticized processes of experimentation that lacked mechanisms of evalua-tion. 2° Many are not fully satisfied with what has emerged in the. course of renewal, but are not sure how to name what is missing. Carey comments sharply on the failure of "change-oriented" communities to attract many new members. In her view, there are only two possible reasons for this, "unselfishness or pathological denial" of the imminent demise of their congregations, and she is quite sure that the latter interpretation is the accurate one. I think' these are false alternatives, though both no doubt play a role at times. A more significant factor in the decline in the number of women joining these communities seems to be a feeling of ambivalence, both among members of women's communities and in the church at large, ambivalence which results in part from massive change without evil-uation and consequently without general ownership. Carey, along with ~¢arious church officials, has declared the period of experimentation for women's communities to be over. But her proposal for refoundation suggests that a new, more pro-found kind of experimentation is just what is called for. The women who are coming to communities these days, particularly those young enough not to have lived through the years immedi-ately following the council, do not share the ambivalence of their older sisters. No doubt it is they who will lead the way in the founding and refounding still to come. Neither/Nor, Looking Anew, Nuancing In my opinion, the renewal of women's communities in the Catholic Church over the past forty years was not "co-opted" or Review for Religious "stolen" by their leaders, but neither has it been fully accom-plished. It is a work in progress, and in that work there has been considerable polarization between different approaches, and mutual recrimination as well. The challenge at this time may be to move beyond present viewpoints, to look through some other window onto those same issues and see a fuller truth. Those who wish to find such a window would do well to heed what Carey has written. Certainly Sisters in Crisis is flawed in its use of sources. Many are cited out of context, they are often listed without explanation or analysis, and generalizations are made on the basis of undisclosed and apparently meager evidence. But Carey's effort to speak in the nameof sisters whose views may have been ignored in the process of renewal provides a significant resource for those who are willing to look and listen. What has been said here about renewal within women's com-munities is true of the renewal of the whole church; in many ways it holds true as well for liberation movements within North America and across the planet. It is often asserted that communi-ties of men and women are called to take a prophetic stance. In my view, such an assertion requires careful nuancing. But, if sisters who represent different perspectives can learn to engage in gen-uine dialogue about their recent history and possible future direc-tions, I believe that could be prophetic indeed, not only for the church, but for all of humanity. Notes i Ann Carey, Sisters in Crisis: The Tragic Unraveling of Women's Religious Communities (Huntington, Indiana: Our Sunday Visitor Press, °1997). 2 The focus of my work is women's communities, and the sources for the present reflection deal specifically with women in the United States. Other groups, too, may find what I say relevant. 3 These are not my preferred terms, but since Carey uses them I will follow her lead. 4 Lora Ann Quifionez CDP and Mary Daniel Turner SNDdeN, The Tranyformation of American Catholic Sisters (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1992). s "Book rebukes renewal; nuns rebuke book," National Catholic Reporter, 23 May 1997, p. 6. 6 Former LCWR president Doris Gottemoeller RSM agrees, but she believes that Carey has not named the crisis adequately. See "Religious Life in Crisis," Origins, 25 February 1999, pp. 634-638. ~uly-August 2000 Foley ¯ Another Window on the Crisis 7 One modern source for the story is Roger Fisher, William Ury, and Bruce Patton, Getting to Yes: Negotiating Agreement without Giving In, 2nd ed. (New York: Penguin Books, 1991), p. 40. Walter Wink suggests that finding a third alternative in a situation that has reached an impasse is a gospel imperative. See his Engaging the Powers: Discernment and Resistance in a World of Domination (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992). s Fowler suggests that the pattern of stages he describes remains valid regardless of the content of one's faith. It is rather a factor of one's cognitive and moral development,.although the circumstances in which one finds oneself tend to propel one toward a new stage. His theory is quite pragmatic: no stage is better than another; it simply may be more adequate to the realities one has to confront. 9 Note that one of these elements can be present without the other. Persons with an analytical bent can ana!yze the content of a faith that is not personally appropriated. Similarly, persons who tend to be inde-pendent may formally reject the faith of significant others before being able to give a reason for their own belief, other than the fact that it is their own. 10 This is not to say that more traditional communities have not made the same transition. I simply do not have enough evidence to make such a judgment. II She maintains that, when their constitutions were not approved, "many institutes simply played the game of prolonged 'dialogue' with Rome, hoping to win approval for practices that already had been in effect for years" (Crisis, 314). 12 Justice in the World, §6. 13 Sandra M. Schneiders IHM, "Congregational Leadership and Spirituality in the Postmodern Era," Review for Religious 57, no. 1 (January-February 1998): 26. ~4 I am indebted to Edward Vacek SJ in "Religious Life and the Eclipse of Love for God," Review for Religious 57, no. 2 (March-April 1998): 118-137, for his description of the vows as'structuring one's life around the relationship to God. ~s Barbara Fiand SND has articulated a theology of the vows in keep-ing with an e~;olutionary, nondualistic worldview. See her Living the I~uion: Religious Vows in an Age of Change (New York: Crossroad, 1990) and Wrestling with God: Religious Life in Search of Its Soul (New York: Crossroad, 1996). 16 See Crisis, pp. 110-111. 17 HWR News and Notes, published by the Conference on History of Women Religious (ed. Karen M. Kennelly csJ; Mount St. Mary's College; 12001 Chalon Road; Los Angeles, California 90049), tracks current scholarship in this area, much of which is presented at that orga-nization's triennial conferences. Both the enormous variety of expressions and the common themes Review for Religious manifest in that variety are very evident in Jo Ann Kay McNamara, Sisters in Arms: Catholic Nuns through Two Millennia (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1996). ,9 See ~ta consecrata, Origins 25, no. 41 (4 April 1996); also in The Church and Consecrated Life (St. Louis: Review for Religious, 1996), pp. 323-436; see esp. §§12 and 62. The latter section is explicit about the pos-sibility that new forms emerging today may come to be approved offi-cially at a later time. 20 For example, Gottemoeller, "Religious Life in Crisis" (see note 6), p. 635. At the LCWR assembly in August 1999, there were a number of calls for evaluation of the processes of renewal. Musings of the Prodigal's Brother Look at him! The life of the party. Music, fatted calf, ring- all to celebrate my brother's return from a wasted life. Squandered inheritance, prostitutes, and hunger shared with swine. Look at my lathe!! Joy-filled, radiant, his long-awaited prodigal is home. Unconditional, all-forgiving love Lighting up the room with warmth and joy, my father - our father - now at peace. Look at me! Lonely, jealous, bitter. The son who did not squander - but gave my father only loyal, total service, What's this? My envy giving way? My inner blindness praying, "Lord, that I may see"? Maria Corona Crumback IHM ffuly-August 2000 BERNADINE PIEPER A Path of Humility and Truth: Historical Reminiscence T~ay, thirty-five years after Vatican Council II, many people nk that the changes in religious life arose spontaneously, somewhat like Athena springing from the forehead of Zeus. In fact, the changes took place because of intense preparation. That preparation happened in the contexts of the general culture and the individual religious communities. My community, the Congregation of the Humility of Mary, was a small congregation of approximately 430 members, and so most sisters knew one another. The sisters came from a variety of ancestral ndtionalities: Irish, German, Czech, Italian, Mexican, and others. Many of the sisters had rural backgrounds, had the experience of living with Protestants as well as Catholics, and had attended both public and Catholic schools at all levels including university. The congregation had moved from France to Pennsylvania to Missouri to Iowa and had experienced losing the motherhouse in Ottumwa, Iowa, in a 1957 fire. They were pio-neers, risk takers. Further, a remarkable group of women made up the leadership of the Congregation of the Humility of Mary from 1960 to 1966. In November 1964 the general superior, Mother Mary Nicholas, and the general council called for a congregation-wide Bernadine Pieper CHM was elected general superior of her congre-gation in 1966, shortly after Vatican Council ii. She writes from her experience of the past forty years. Her address is Humility of Mary Center; 820 West Central Park Avenue; Davenport, Iowa 52804. Review for Religious vote on a revision of the delegate selection process for the 1966 general chapter of affairs. That same month she and the council ¯ asked every convent to discuss renewal of religious life with spe-cial applications to our congregation. Background material sent for the study included Vatican II's Constitution on the Liturgy, chapters 5 and 6 of the Constitution on the Church, Pope Paul's discourse of 23 May 1964 to all religious, the original 1858 rules and regulations of the Sisters of the Humility of Mary, and Father Bernard H~iring's Christian Renewal in a Changing World. The sis-ters were also asked to study related sections of Scrip~re. The virtues listed in our original constitutions were to be studied along with the congregation's apostolate. The sisters were asked whether " we were meeting the spiritual and religious needs of the people of our time in the localities where we were working. This was a time of excitement and ferment. Discussion of these topics provided an opportunity for departure from the rather superficial conversation typical of specified recreation times. A 22 February 1965 letter from Mother Mary Nicholas states that the objective of our study was profound renewal inspired.by bib-lical, liturgical, and apostolic documents of Vatican II and by wis-dom from the congregation's experience. She said some changes would be decided by the congregation itself while others must await legislation expected in the future. "We realize that renewal of religious life will not be easy," she said. From each of four geo-graphical areas (east Iowa and Illinois, midwest Iowa, southeast Iowa, and the west), she and the general council appointed the following committees: liturgy, common life and discipline, poverty, obedience, works and apostolate, and formation and maturity. Committee members included every sister in the community. After a year of discussion, each of these committees sent a posi-tion paper, including reports and recommendations, for study by the congregation. From October 1965 to May 1966, sisters prepared proposals to present to the 1966 chapter of affairs. A total of 545 proposals on a variety of topics were prepared by the sisters, both by indi-viduals and by committees and groups. The recommendations included practically every facet of the sisters' lives and customs: elections, prayer, charity, social work, spiritual renewal, revision of rule and directory, companionship, cloister, letter writing, use of gifts, permissions, and other more mundane items such as swim-ming, ceremonies, appointments, and speeds at which to drive. ~uly-August 2000 Pieper ¯ ~t Path of Humility and Truth There were few proposals about chastity and friendship, pos-sibly due to the fact that no study group was assigned to this topic. During the previous fifty years, obedience had assumed priority for religious life. Three sisters were appointed to organize the pro-posals for presentation to th6 chapter of affairs in a logical way. After attending a workshop for religious superiors at the University of Notre Dame, the local superiors of the congregation met in the summer of 1965 to look at common life. They recom-mended a variety of changes to Mother Superior and the council. Among the changes approved were: talking at breakfast, walking outdoors after 6 p.m., eating with guests, retiring early, noncen-sorship of mail, elimination of the chapter of faults, yearly general permissions, and going without a companion to medical appoint-ments. Previously three other sisters were involved when one went to the doctor: one as her companion at the doctor's and two oth-ers to drive them there and pick them up again. In 1965, upon the recommendation of the liturgy committee, sisters began to use the breviary for morning and night prayers. A workshop on guidelines for renewal was held in spring 1966 with the cooperation of the Canon Law Society of America and the approval Of Davenport Bishop Ralph L. Hayes. The speakers were Father Paul M. Boyle CP, past president of the Canon Law Society of America; Father Kevin O'Rourke OP, coauthor of Canon Law for Religious Women; Sister Jane Marie Richardson SL, secretary of Sister Mary Luke Tobin SL, auditor at Vatican II; Sister Ignace RSM, province councilor of the Mercy Sisters' Chicago Province; and Sister Maristella (Elizabeth) Picken CHM, member of the Marycrest College religion department. Davenport sisters had also traveled to Aurora, Illinois, that spring for a speech by Sister Mary Luke Tobin. The membership for the 1966 chapter of affairs was entirely different from that of earlier chapters, which had been composed of almost as many superiors as nonsuperiors. Besides the seven ex-officio members--major .superior, council, former major superi-ors, secretary, and treasurer--seven superiors were elected from among 38, nine sisters from among 88 more than 50 years old, ten sisters from among 90 between 35 and 50 years of age, and four from among the 80 sisters under 35. All these sisters had per-petual vows. Sisters with temporary vows had only active voice. During the chapter the delegates voted to abolish all secrecy. Chapter delegates represented a wide variety of sisters. There was for Rdigious a wide spectrum of emotion--fear and impatience on the one hand, hope and excitement on the other. Everyone, however, cared for the congregation and worked hard to follow the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. Relaxation of discipline and introduction of the breviary were not the only changes which took place before the 1966 chapter of affairs. The number of entrants into the congregation had already declined before 1966. The largest number of persons to enter the congregation came in 1959 and 1960:27 and 32 respec-tively. In 1965 only six women entered, and in the spring of 1966 only four had been accepted for entrance. Sisters were aware of and inter-ested in civil rights. Though no one went to Selma or other places in the South for demonstrations, they were deeply concerned and prayed particularly when Medgar Evers was killed. They also began to help with local problems. For example, some numbers went sandbagging along the Mississippi in Davenport during the 1965 flood. They tried to do this quietly; when a picture of the sisters appeared in the daily paper, not everyone in the CHM community was happy. Probably attitudinal changes were the most important. In the 1960s the culture implied that one was incomplete without a sex-ual partner. Vatican II taught that perfection was obtainable not just by sisters in community, but also by married persons. At Marycrest College, where over one-fourth of the CHM community studied during the summer, creative and critical thinking was a college goal. Sisters began to recognize that they were thinking creatively .and critically about everything exc.ept their own lives. They became aware that they had been founded as an apostolic community and were neither cloistered nor monastic, but had been trying to live as if they were. At the chapter of affairs, on 27 June 1966, I was elected the general superior. My experience as a superior was limited to sev-eral summers for the sisters who were students at Marycrest College. I had, however, taught a majority of members of the con-gregation. This was my first chapter of affairs. M6ther Mary In 1965, upon the recommendation of the liturgy committee, sisters began to use the breviary for morning and night prayers. Pieper ¯ A Path of Humility and Truth Nicholas Sheetz, who might have provided me some guidance, died in October 1966. Mother Mary Magdalen Wilmes, another potential source of information, asked to move to Phoenix. "You can make your own mistakes," she said. I retained the designation "Sister" and took the title president instead of mother superior, as have those who succeeded me. When Father Paul Boyle CP spoke at Marycrest College in April 1966, he assured the members of the committee which orga-nized the proposals that he would be happy to help at the chapter. He came to Ottumwa from Monroe, Michigan, and was invaluable in distinguishing among aspects of church law, community law, customs, and culture. He advised us tobegin with a discussion on prayer because that was the most important topic and further-more was likely to be less controversial than the others. After considerable discussion and revision at the regular June session and a short one in December 1966, about sixty motions were approved by the delegates, either unanimously or at least 10 to 1 in favor. Mass, lauds, vespers, and an annual retreat were the only requirements regarding prayer. However, the value of prayer was endorsed, and continuing past practices was recommended. In the area of poverty, the sisters were asked to be as poor as they wished and to provide community witness to poverty by sharing things. Minor finances were to be a subject for experimentation. Each sister was to be given $15 a month for clothes and personal needs, while housing, .meals, and travel were to be provided by the local house. One sister commented that her girdle alone cost $13. Investigating congregational health insurance was approved. Home visits, travel without companions, retention of baptismal names for those who so wished, eating with persons other than commu-nity members, and letters and phone calls without censorship were approved. Broadening our apostolic works was recommended, with particular emphasis on Latin America. The value of long-range planning was noted. The following commissions were described and set up in great detaili (1) the coordinating commission on apostolic works, with subcommittees in the various areas of work; (2) rule and directory revision; (3) formation and religious renewal; (4) finance and development; and (5) habit revision. The sisters were asked to participate in annual meetings of the whole con-gregation. No time limit for experimenting was set because Pe, rfectae caritatis allowed twelve years. Review for Religious In the letter I wrote to the congregation accompanying the record of the June 1966 chapter, I said: "Many of you have prob-ably read Michael Novak's 'The New Nun' in the July Post, in which he says, 'Press reports emphasize the shortened skirts, the briefer veils, the appearance of nuns on public beaches, but these are misleading superficial aspects of a deep-running revolution. In ever increasing numbers the sisters are creating new rules to define what tasks they may or may not tackle, what styles of life they may or may not adopt.'" Change in clothes was symbolic and probably the change most criticized by the sisters' publics. The original intent was to design and adopt a simple costume with a modified veil. The process, however, led to diversity. Sisters sent requests to the coordinating commission on habit revision, with the final decision to be made by the general superior and council. At first the sisters were expected to wear a veil and white, gray, black, brown, or blue clothing. Many sisters quickly adapted to the change, Next came . requests and permission to wear red and green and finally flowered blouses. Just before the 1967 summer school, the gen-eral council decided to allow sisters to go without veils, having noticed that sisters in some communities who were still asked to wear the traditional habit were surreptitiously wearing street clothes when they were ¯ away from the convent. We felt that honesty was the better policy. At first clothes were usually made out of habits and cloaks and often were ill fitting and not very well designed. Generally sisters wore blouses, skirts, and suits. Some sisters reverted to the hairstyles of their teen years; some bought wigs. Fairly soon, though, the sisters emerged as attractive women rather than neuter icons, and sometimes this incited the envy of other women. For example, one sister found a suitable coat with a small fur collar in the poor box for the parish. She was criti-cized by some parishioners as being too extravagant in clothes. The change to contemporary clothes, the sisters thought, necessitated some means for identification. For a while each sis-ter had a name tag; then we adopted a design for a medal. It is still being used. Change in clothes was symbolic and probably the change most criticized by the sisters' publics. July-August 2000 Pieper ¯ A Path of Humility and Truth This was a time of energetic hope and gloomy predictions as well. One priest "expert" predicted that within five years the con-gregation would be extinct. Before 1966 the vow of poverty implied permission for the use of material things. After the 1966 chapter, the meaning of being po.or as one wished and sharing material things was open to interpretation. General congregational'needs included care of retired sisters, administration, and the retirement of a debt on the motherhouse. Up to this time, each house had sent as much as possible to the motherhouse. In fact, sometimes superiors vied with one other to see how much could be sent, even at the expense of local needs. As sisters began to live outside established con-vents, the question arose about ensuring a balance of individual and congregational needs. Since CHM local houses had sent to the congregational fund the amount each determined, it seemed logical to continue this process. Hence, each sister was asked to deduct from her income what was needed for her individual or house costs and send the rest to the motherhouse. Little by little most of the sisters began to contribute as much as they could to the congregation's fund. Diocesan stipends were entirely too low. In the Des Moines Diocese the stipend set for each sister was $50-$100 monthly. In the city of Des Moines, all except one parish paid $50 per month per sister. I had to go to bishops and pastors to ask for an increase in the stipend. Frequently I was told that, if the sisters went back to their habits, they could get along on $50 a month! I prepared and distributed a budget so that the sisters could be informed about real congregational needs. Funds for retreats and education were budgeted. A study was made of average expenses for an indi-vidual. Many sisters responded favorably when they were informed about the needs, both for the congregation itself and for works to assist the poor. To free active sisters from increasing costs for sisters already in retirement, we enrolled in the social security program in 1972 when it became available for sisters. Using unclaimed interest on patrimony, we set up the CHM retirement trust in 1976. Until the summer of 1966, health expenses were cared for gratis by several related hospitals. One of these began charging the sisters for services. Then we initiated a health-insurance plan. Each sister in the congregation was asked to have an annual phys-ical examination. Revie~ for Religio~ The commission on rule revision met almost immediately after the 1966 chapter. Unable to decide what to call the first product of their efforts, it settled on "Spirit and Goals" until a better name could be found. After considerable discussion a state-ment of about a page and a half was sent to all the sisters for study and recommendation. After several revisions, a statement of spirit and goals was approved by a vote of the sisters in August 1968. The statement began, "We Sisters of the Humility of Mary are a group of women in the Catholic Church who have banded together to dedicate ourselves through a special common effort to the pur-suit of life's essential meaning and to a radical response to the Christian gospel of universal love." The Spirit and Goals document was intended as a basic state-ment explaining our spirit and the meaning of religious life for the Sisters of the Humility of Mary. The remainder of the rule was intended to be directives approved by succeeding chapters of affairs. After some years, and after the rules and regulations had been arranged according to topics and divided into Books I and II, the CHM president and I presented the document to the English-speaking committee of the Sacred Congregation for Religious (SCRIS) in Rome in 1982. The committee, finding several sections unacceptable, told us to make mandated changes and resubmit the document. Since the total congregation had already approved the 1982 document, it was necessary that they subsequently vote on SCRIS's mandates. This CHM approval was not forthcoming, so for seven years the congregation followed Books I and II without papal approval. In 1988 a new rule-revision committee attempted to integrate the directives of SCRIS, now called the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life (CICLSAL) in such a way that our identity would not be compromised. We con-sulted a canon lawyer working in the English-language depart-ment of CICLSAL. Her suggestions included moving as many items as possible to Book II, which did not require canonical approval. The main objection of CICLSAL had been our election process. After numerous revisions we were able to present the document to the CHM general assembly in the summer of 1990. It was approved by the Representative Assembly in that year and sent to Rome requesting the approval date of December 8. We distributed approved copies to the congregation in the summer of 1991. We are still probing self-determination versus community focus. ~uly-August 2000 Pieper ¯ A Path of Humility and Truth That sisters could choose their work had both positive and negative results. By 1968 we were sending openings for available positions to community members. That sisters could choose their work had both positive and negative results. Some felt insecure in having to find their own positions. Sisters who were not good teachers or who had no interest in teaching were able to go to school and train for and find occupations more in keeping with their talents. Justice was adopted as the congregation's priority. More sisters began working directly with the dispossessed, and the congregation supported their efforts. After the recommendation of Pope Paul VI encouraging American religious to go to Latin America, Father Louis Colonnese, director of PAVLA (Papal Volunteers for Latin America), rec-ommended about half a dozen places to the sis-ters. All of these were dioceses where the bishop had a pastoral plan to follow the spirit of Vatican II. Several of us went to visit Bishop Samuel Ruiz Garcia of the San Crist6bal de las Casas diocese in southern Mexico. He took us over mountains to see places where sisters had been working to show us what had been done and what the pos-sibilities were. We were so impressed that we decided not to look further, but rather to use for the program in Chiapas the money we might have spent on airplane fare to other potential sites. We were urged to send sisters also to Ambato, Ecuador. Four si~ters went to these two missions; two are still in the San Crist6bal diocese. Although the commission on formation devised an extensive plan for formation, very few women applied. Furthermore, a :great many, particularly among those who were in temporary vows, left the congregation. Perhaps they were still in the process of being integrated in the congregation in a pre-Vatican II mode. Of the many reasons for the mass exodus from religious communities, I think a good many were cultural. Quite a few young women said that, if they could be as holy living as married women with chil-dren as they could as celibates in community, there was no reason to remain as sisters. The sexual revolution implied that one could not be a whole person without genital experiences. Some sisters, particularly those working directly with the poor, found that their primary community was one, other than the ClaMs. Some who left were those who had been dissatisfied for years. On the other hand, Review for Religious some were sisters who had worked most diligently and effectively for the changes. Some were unable to identify with a patriarchal church. Without a doubt all of us made mistakes. It might have been better to have informed our public about proposed changes, but we were intent on our internal study. In any case, I doubt if the pub-lic would have approved of the changes if we had asked them beforehand. The Sisters of the Humility of Mary moved some-what faster than other communities at this time of. change. As I watched communities that made the changes later, I used to think that I could be a consultant, telling them what to avoid. However, all of us had to learn from our own mistakes even though many of them were similar. Not everyone was mature enough to take per-sonal responsibility. The changes in discipline, clothes, works, and so on were only the expressions of a hope for the inner renewal of each sister and of the entire congregation. Celibacy in community has replaced obedience as the defining vow for sisters. Since the early 1970s, associates have expanded the search and service aspects of com-munity. Among the sisters, responsibility for private prayer some-times meant temporary abandonment of prayer altogether. Inner renewal is difficult to assess and is known only to God and the sister. Bishops witl~ whom CHMs worked were supportive during this time. One said that he did not understand everything that we did, but trusted us. On one occasion he commented, "I would never presume to tell a woman what to wear." Today we are an older and wiser congregation. The renewal set in motion in the 1960s has, I think, resulted in return to the spirit of our founders and a steady love for God, people, and the universe. Father Richard Hill 'SJ died on 29 January 2000 in the Jesuit infirfna~ at,Los' Gatos,~ Cahfornia: " 'Fathei" ~li ~sed~tor for c~nonical ~ounsel from Janua~ 1985 to July.19~)0. ~ : Let us remember him in burp~ay~ers~ July-August 2000 w. HENRY KEN-NEY Finding God's Willm A Maneuver finding God My title, "Finding God's Will," purposely suggests a prior search. In an age when some prefer to think of God as havin~ no specific will for individuals, but only a general wish for us to use our freedom well, the whole concept of seeking and finding God's will seems out of place. But I do not think it is. The theological assumptions behind searching for and finding God's will are, I believe, not of this age. They have appeared in the spirituality of countless saints, and espe-cially in those who lived in the last four or five hundred years. My large debt to an acknowledged master of search-ing for and finding God's will, St. Ignatius of Loyola, I gladly own. I am also quite indebted to dozens of pray-ers (my preferred term for directees) whom I have accom-panied on many a search and in many a finding. So my basic assumption is: God has a specific will which can be searched for and found--in large, medium, and lesser matters. A very good case, I believe, can be made that this is the prevailing assumption of the Bible and that it shines forth especially in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. For instance, along with many scripture scholars, I see Jesus' desert temptations as part W. Henry Kenney SJ, founder of the Bluegrass Spirituality Center in Lexington, Kentucky, is now a free-lance "prayer coach." His address is 153 Barr Street; Lexington, Kentucky 40507. Review for Religious of his search for the Father's will on how to undertake and exer-cise his public ministry. Near the end of his life, we see Jesus in Gethsemane struggling to get beyond his aversion to an igno-minious death ~and coming finally to embrace his Father's will peacefully and courageously. Presuppositions for Fruitful Searching My first presupposition is that searching for and finding God's will is a gift, and God's best gifts most often come in answer to persistent prayer. Hence, the guiding light for a searcher is: Beg, beg, beg. That repeats in short compass the longest teaching of Jesus on prayer: keep on knocking, seeking, begging for God to reveal their (Father, Son, and Spirit) will (Lk 11:1-13). For those who are settled into a significant prayer life, recipients of one of its gifts--a strong desire to know God's will--persistent begging for the revelation of God's will strikes them as quite right. To be given the knowledge of God's will and the courage and joy to do it is perceived by such pray-ers as a most precious gift coming from God's Spirit, the gift. Happy are they who experience their begging turned into receiving--the knowledge and love of God's s, pecific will for them. The second presupposition is that the principal impediment to finding God's will is my own will, often enough so attached to X or so averted from Y that it is very difficult or nearly impossi-ble for Y to be revealed as God's will. Spirituality writers used to call that state "attachment" or "lack of indifference." Currently that state is described as insufficient openness to God's will or lack of spiritual freedom. If I am mildly or strongly attached to getting married or averse to becoming a priest or religious, it is more difficult for me to recognize that God's wisdom and plea-sure are calling me to the priesthood or religious life. When there is very strong aversion or attachment, it is nearly impossi-ble to know and accept God's willing the opposite of our own wills. Let us state this positively. A necessary condition for our finding God's will is our possession of indifference, detachment, real openness to God's will--spiritual freedom. St. Ignatius of Loyola's Spiritual Exercises (§157) supplies a soul-testing remedy for such "inordinate attachments": When we feel an attachment opposed to X [Ignatius instances actual poverty] . it will be very helpful in order ~ly-.4ug~st 2000 Kenney ¯ Finding God's Will to overcome the inordinate attachment, even though cor-rupt na(ure rebel against it, to beg our Lord. to choose us to serve him in X. We should insist that we desire it, we should beg for it, plead for it, provided, of course, that it be for the service and praise of the Divine Goodness. (Puhl translation) With some discomfort I own that I have seldom suggested that a praying person follow §157's recommendation. However, from directing pray-ers (and from my own seeking of God's will) I have happened on to a maneuver that achieves, almost by indirection, what §157 seeks straight on. The third (and, for some, shocking) presupposition is this: God's will is usually revealed not by words or images, but by feel-ings: feelings of peace, of increased or continuing peace (called consolation), or feelings of diminished peace, of distancing (called desolation). Novice pray-ers have usually not had enough prayer and life experience of consolation and desolation for those feel-ings to be without the assistance of a spiritual guide--true instru-ments for revealing God's will to themselves. Conditions for Finding and Choosing God's Will Here are four necessary conditions for finding God's will: The first is spiritual freedom or openness. Being reasonably "at balance" is necessary for being really open to God's alternatives. How cru-cial this is can be seen in Ignatius's Exercises, in the extensive instructions and reflections given to help a praying person come to a reasonable level of spiritual freedom. The second is homework. Suffic-ient investigation of the par-ticulars of the available options (who, what, where, when, for how long, at what cost, and so forth) is absolutely necessary. Some per-sonality types want to rush into choosing before they have done their homework, or done it well enough. Pray-ers will often have discerned, in the first place, whether to commit themselves to an in-depth investigation of the alternatives, that is, the pros and cons of each. The third is kairos. There is a kairos, an appropriate time, for the discerning process. Some times are inappropriate, for example, wanting to know if I should accept a job offer before I am offered the job. That is clearly quite different from discerning on whether I should commit myself to investigate some job possibilities or to Review for Religious make some applications. Further, for those given .to control, there is often the temptation to discern alternatives--to have closure-- long before there is reasonable need for a decision. A help in the searching process is to fix the actual date wl~en a decision is needed. Then the discerner can assign a reasonable number of days for discernment before the due date. The fourth is a discernment companion. If a pray-er is leaning to one alternative and strongly dislikes the other, the aid of a dis-cernment companion is usually essential. The companion can help the praying persons to follow the process correcdy and thereby get beyond their subjectivity. Novice discerners with strong attach-ments are astonishingly adept at fouling up the discernment pro-cess. A person who read this article in manuscript form was dumbfounded to find in it a finger pointing out an inclination to subvert true discernment of a touchy personal decision. Even mature pray-ers, at least in their earlier searchings for God's will, usually have need of human help to discern and interpret patterns of consolation or desolation in response to their continued search-ing for the Lord's will. There would, then, be great risk if non-pray- ers or novice pray-ers attempted such formal discernment without a discernment companion, and even greater risk in the maneuver suggested below. The~, would too likely get into magic, divination, or self-deception. A ManeuvermOne Way of Searching for God's Will Central to the maneuver is repeatedly asking a loaded question of the Lord in the middle of prayer. I call it "popping the ques-tion." Unfortunately, there are several gloriously wrgng ways of popping the question. First is popping an unloaded question, such as, "Lord, do you want me to marry Susie?" That sounds quite sensible. What is so unproductive about this Way of phrasing the question is that it demands a vocal answer: "Yes" or "No." The Lord, however, is not in the habit of giving such answers. Not a few pray-ers continue to be scandalized that the Lord's preferred way of communicating "answers" to us is through our emotions, through consolations and desolations. A second wrong way of popping the question is to pop a ques-tion that is loaded towards the alternative the pray-er wants. This, unsurprisingly, greatly muddies the spiritual waters; self-gener-ated "peace" tends to obscure any subtle message from God. If I j~ly-August 2000 Kenney ¯ Finding God's Will greatly desire quitting my job and I keep asking, ".Lord, you want me to quit my job, don't you?" my strong emotional bias will give me so much'comfort that a contrary response from the Lord will likely be blocked out. Third, pray-ers will often fudge the process by alternately popping questions loaded against and loaded for themselves. Once again, muddied waters will result. A right way to phrase discernment questions is to use a loaded question consistently, a question loaded against my inclination or aversion and thereby loaded in God's favor. For a young or not-so-young woman attached to her single lifestyle, the loaded phras-ing of "Lord, you want me to marry Stan, don't you?" will cause disturbance, negative feelings, the first several times she pops it. These initial affective responses will likely prove untypical of responses later on, but she needs to experience them now. I say this because I have quite often seen sincere discerners surrepti-tiously (without knowing it themselves!) try to bypass such dis-comfort and get approval of the alternative they want either by asking an unloaded question or by unconsciously switching to the loaded question that favors their own present inclination: "Lord, you don't want me to marry Stan, do you?" Pray-ers that "lean" toward a preference of theirs need to be assured more than once that it is just as easy for the Lord to "answer" no to a loaded question as to answeryes. Understandably, many "leaning" pray-ersfeel that the question is too loaded against themselves for the Lord to be able to say no. In phi'asing discern-ment questions, it has gradually and experientially ~ome clear to me that it is much better to formulate the questions positively. For example, if a pray-er pops "Lord, you don't want me accept this job offer, do you?" the negative tends to muddy the process. The right-ness of the positively phrased question, "Lord, you want me to con-tinue in my present job, don't you?" can be sensed by pray-ers who lean toward accepting a new job. They experience more dis-comfort with positive questions than with negative ones. When to pop? I ask discernment questions of the Lord only, only, only when I am prayerful, that is, when I am at peace and have some sense of being with the Lord. Never do I ask when I am even a little unpeaceful or lack some real sense of being with the Lord. Praying persons, indeed, are frequently tempted to do this. If they yield, it is like asking the wall and expecting a revela-tory response within themselves as a reaction to the wall's action! Review for Religious When one is consciously with the Lord, whether in formal prayer or at'liturgy or at another time, a question should usually be popped only once. Popping the same question several times in the same ,prayer experience usually comes from a control drive that tends to commandeer the discernment process. How to pop? When I am in the middle of being connected with the Lord, I pop the question, as it were, eyeball to eyeball. Then I wait a short time, seconds. If I wait longer, I am trying to manipulate the Lord or influence my reactions. After popping I need to notice what happened to my con-nectedness and consolation. Did it remain the same? Did it increase? Was it subtly modified? Often pray-ers say "Nothing happened" after they popped the question. My response is "Something always hap-pens!" If my connectedness and peace remain the same, that is a very revealing, though low-key, response. Hence we need to keep a record of our post-popping reactions so that we may discover a pattern. How often to pop? For a small matter, once usually suffices if there has been a clear enough affective response. For larger mat-ters-- a new job, undertaking a volunteer project or pulling back from one--five, ten, or a dozen times usually give a clear picture. Very large questions--marriage, religiou~ life, another child, major change in employment or lifestyle--may need months of discern-ing. What is always being sought is a clear pattern of responses from multiple poppings. Confirmation. When repeated poppings have yielded a pat-tern that tells us we very probably know God's will in a large or very large matter, it is good to supplement the discernment with a further process that may increase and strengthen our careful cer-tainty. Regarding marriage, the confirming question (in full detail, useful for the first popping) could well be "Lord, I think you have revealed to me that you want me to marry Stan. That is your will, isn't it?" Interpreting patterns. If pray-ers' first discernment efforts involve large or very large issues, I usually say nothing beforehand about htw to interpret their experience. Rather, I tell them they should pop the question "about X times," note carefully what hap- I ask discernment questions of the Lord only, only, only when I am prayerful. July-August 2000 Kenney ¯ Finding God's Will pens to their state of peace while and after popping, and record the experience of each discernment. At our next meeting we look at and interpret the responses together. The interpretation is very simple: The experience of consola-tion confirms the loaded question, whereas a lesser peacefulness or a diminished sense of being with the Lord negates the loaded ques-tion. In the example "Lord, you want me to marry Stan, don't you?" the results of the maneuver may be "muddied" by several years of attachment to a single lifestyle. The first few poppings will probably bring feelings of desolation, coming from pain at the thought of possibly losing certain blessings of the single life. But it is the pattern'of consolations or desolations, derived from many spiritual experiences, that reveals whether the alternative is in harmony or not with God's wisdom and love, and with what is deepest in herself as well. It is worth adding that in using the maneuver people may often experience desolation in new ways. They may sense a sud-den loss of contact with the Lord--no more disturbing than the quiet loss of a telephone connection during a conversation. Or they may sense the onset of a "vacuum" feeling, a severe feeling of emptiness, immediately after popping the question. Such feel-ings are often quite subtle, but are clear instances of desolation nonetheless. Sundry Choices Made by Means of the Maneuver Somehow it seems more appropriate to place this section at the end rather than near the beginning. My hope is that it will give some feel for the variety of discernments. I give some instances of choices that go ~ith the chooser's natural preference as well as againstdt. Understandably, I fictionalize to protect confidential-ity, but give enough details to suggest a "feel" for the shape of dis-cerned choices. First, four examples of big choices: a woman in her thirties who had enjoyed an active lifestyle met a man whom she feared God might want her tO marry and thus have her lifestyle signifi-cantly altered. Hers was a long discernment, spread over a num-ber of months, and she gradually became more open to marriage, especially through the use of "Lord, you want me to marry Stan, don't you?" Postwedding life has proved the fittingness of her def-initely not easy choice. There is a greatly loved child, and she Review for Religious found herself saying, "It's clear to me that I'm growing up now." A man in his early forties, increasingly uncomfortable with his military-connected job, sought first to know if God wanted him to give up his job and seek training and employment in some-thing more oriented towards human service. It was difficult to consider giving up a well-paying job without knowing what the next, step would be. His discernment was eased by his having a substantial amount of savings. In his case the discernment of per-haps five or six months gave him the certainty (and courage) to quit his job. This led to discernment about further education and eventually to a people-centered ministry. A young woman, thirty-two, who came with a strong prayer life and dedication to helping the poor, was not charmed when I asked if she had thought about religious life. "I want to get married and have children." "What if God wants you in religious life?" was a question she did not enjoy. In some-thing like a month of using the loaded ques-tion "Lord, you want me to be a religious, don't you?" she came to much more spiritual freedom for either marriage or religious life. She found herself eager to know God's will clearly, whatever it might be. That desire was fulfilled in another month and a half by a definite vocation to a missionary order. A woman in her forties taught'alternativ~ high school (possi-bly a universal euphemism for teaching students less than sixteen and expelled from regular schools). She heard of the possibility of becoming chief financial officer for a large God's Pantry opera-tion; she was both very qualified and very attracted. When, how-ever, she frequently asking loaded questions about whether God wanted her to continue in her present job, she came up with no clear sense of direction. Then, almost immediately after she was actually offered the CFO job, her prayer was filled with clarity that God wanted her to continue teaching "alternatives"--the very drift of her original popped question. Next are two examples of "medium" choices, but I flinch at such labeling because often the consequences are major. Probably the saddest accompanying I have done was with a man in his for-ties who was in a cult-like abusive relationship. In a discernment "What if God wants you in religious life?" was a question she did not enjoy. .~uly-Aug~st 2000 Kenn~y ¯ Findin~ God's W~ll which was long enough and clear enough, the answer was yes to "You want me to give up my relationship with X, don't you?" The sadness is that the relationship continued with great harm to him-self and to his family. Though I tried to persuade him to get coun-seling, the abuser convinced him that that counselors do the work of the devil. A man in his early fifties is a first-rate high school teacher. He got the idea that it would be good to get a Ph.D., but dis-cernment dictated otherwise. He continued happily and effectively teaching for several years. Because he is very gifted, he was asked to do all sorts of things at school, at church, and elsewhere. Before using formal discernment he was seriously fatiguing himself by undertaking too many projects. He began using a discernment notebook. When asked to do something, he noted it, carefully constructed a question for popping, used it in prayer,and logged the '~results." He says. no a lot more now, and notes the absence of fatigue. Out of the blue a department chair at the university asked him to supervise graduate students doing their summertime practice teaching. Not only did his discernment yield a clear "No," but also an unusual pair of words, "You're enough"--exactly what he needed to hear. He has no need for other and ever new achieve-meats to prove and feel his self-worth. Other Ways of Discernment The maneuver suggested here is one good way of seeking and finding God's will. There are many other ways. Experimentation vs. popping. In several areas of our lives where the prayer discernment process proposed here is not appro-priate, experimentation is a privileged way of finding God's will. It can be used for how long to pray, where and when to pray, what type of prayer is best for one's "daily diet," how much sleep, exer-cise, food, and drink to get, and so forth. Experimentation is not trying X one day, Y another, and Z on the third. Rather, it is try-ing one way five to seven times, then trying another way five to seven times, and afterwards reflecting on our experiences, espe-cially on the quality of our lives during the alternative experi-ments. St. Ignatius Loyola observes: "Now since God our Lord knows our [individual] nature infinitely better [than we do], when we make changes of this kind, [God] often grants each one the grace to understand what is suitable for [us]" (SpEx §89). Review for Religious There is another way that God answers sincere prayer--and, here, prayer to know God's will. My sister, her husband afflicted with Alzheimer's, knew they had to move into some form of assisted living because her heart condition was making her ever less able to care for him. She was more inclined to get care eight hours per day rather than 24-hour care--too pricey, she thought. Her earnest prayer that God reveal Their will was strikingly answered. The next two nights her husband had diarrhea and did not know what the toilet was for. Clearly, day care would not suffice. Another way of discernment is, I think, proposed by St. Ignatius, but unfortunately I cannot document this. This way involves offering the Lord different options as one would present different dishes to an honored guest, waiting to see which' he prefers. I mention, too, the experience of a Baptist minister who, faced with significant choices, would open his Bible to random passages and find in them helpful suggestions towards a particular course of action. He would say, "The Scripture came and grasped me." Summing Up First, the maneuver suggested here for finding God's will in larger and medium discernments centers on popping loaded ques-tions to God in prayer and noticing the pattern of desolations or consolations. By examining the patterns, the pray-er comes to suf-ficient certainty (especially if there is a confirmation process) that God's will has been found. This maneuver has been instrumental for scores of pray-ers in finding the peace of certainty about God's will for themselves even, sometimes, in small matters. The out-comes of decisions arrived at in this manner have been uniformly good (with one exception), and pray-ers have continued secure in their discernments, free from attacks by second thoughts. For persons who approached a decision leaning somewhat or strongly to one alternative, an unplanned and unexpected result of using the maneuver is that repeated poppings of a question loaded against their inclinations brought them--gradually, but more rapidly than I had dared hope--to equanimity about, or even real openness, to the unwanted alternative. With only one excep-tion, those who were led to "tough love" decisions were able to embrace them peacefully and live them energetically. Those who were led by the right use of the maneuver to embrace alternatives July-August 2000 L3-77-- Kenney ¯ Finding God's Will in accord with their initial preferences enioyed the special conso-lation, of knowing they had sought and found not merely their own will, but also God's. Magnificat I want to thank with all my heart the unknown man who, this summer, hacked back and burned the briars and unruly gorse which had covered that singing stream between Boolagh Bog and Bockagh Hill. And I will, because now eye can feast on the smooth black tables of rock down which clear brown water tumbles and bubbles and makes white foam. Ear had always heard the choir under the gorse-and-briar canopy. Body had always sat or stood there, soothed by sound. Now eye and ear heart and bone and soul and tumbling stream are humming their Magn~'cat in unison. Bernadette McCarrick RSM Review for Religious HILARY OTTENSMEYER Consulting Your Inner Wisdom Mnuch of our United States consumer-society mentality vades our quest for spiritual growth. We snatch up the latest acclaimed spiritual authors. We dash off to the latest popu-lar workshops. We try to take in more and more. The effort is laudable, for there is this hunger within us to know more about God's plan for us and to draw nearer to Jesus. All the restless searching, however, ignores the treasure that lies right at our feet. We look everywhere, but we do not see it. As Meister Eckhart wisely put it, "all people have a vintage wine cellar, but they sel-dom drink from it." What I propose here is a stop to all this chas-ing about and an invitation to look into ourselves at the inner wisdom that is already ours. We have access to it. Where the Treasure Lies Have you .ever noticed how easily we slip into states of total absorption, into trancelike states? I imply nothing "spooky" here. This is simply the way our minds work on certain tasks. In that state of absorption, of inner searching, we step out of time, away from the settings around us. We become so focused on a single idea that no other thought, no other emotion, intrudes. People who use their mind in this way experience vivid imagery and feel overall such bodily responses as muscle tension and sometimes Hilary Ottensmeyer OSB last wrote for us in our January-February 1997 issue. His address remains 1414 Southern Avenue; Beech Grove, Indiana 46107. July-August 2000 Ottensmeyer ¯ Consulting Your Inner Wisdom heightened blood pressure. Common occurrences: driving right past your own home, not hearing what people say and asking them to repeat, and not noticing that the phone is ringing insis-tently. Sometimes, by single-minded concentration on a prob-lem, we may come up with a "Eureka!" experience and have a solution. Most of the time, however, I suspect we choose this kind of intensive focus when someone's word or action has wounded us, and we retreat inwardly to chew on the bitter rind of our hurt pride. My suggestion here is that the mind's same powerful ability to focus, its intensity and bright-point targeting, can be used voluntarily in prayer--only this time the focus is on the inner wisdom we all possess through the grace of baptism and indeed all the sacraments and through our enriching experiences of striv-ing to be faithful followers of Jesus and reflective readers of the Gospels. In this way of prayer, we ask the Spirit of Jesus to guide and enlighten us. When we Christians go into the center of our minds and hearts, it is the indwelling Spirit who greets us there. There we hear the echoes of the voice of Jesus and of all the good people who have been examples of faith and good conduct for us. That central core of ourselves is the inner wisdom of which I speak. It is there, and it is available. But let me make a few distinctions. Some Clarifications I am not referring here to centering prayer or at least to what I understand by centering prayer. To quote Father Thomas Keating in his excellent book Open Mind, Open Heart: "A thought in the context of [centering prayer] is any perception that appears on the inner screen of consciousness. This could be an emotion, an image, a memory, a plan, a noise from outside, a feeling of peace, or even a spiritual communication. In other words, anything what-soever that registers on the inner screen of consciousness is a 'thought.' The method consists of letting go. of every thought dur-ing the time of prayer, even the most devout thoughts." ~ What I am referring to here about consulting your inner wisdom probably comes close to what Keating refers to, and dis-misses, as self reflection?. This, Keating says, is to be got over in order to reach pure cont.emplation. My own proposal is a delib-eratefocusing of thought as if one were using a magnifying glass to Review for Religious ' direct the beams of the sun to one spot. Such a tactic could pen-etrate steel. The discipline I propose is not behavior modification. That highly effective psychological tactic involves visioning an unde-sirable behavior of mine, such as becoming angry with the choir habits of a fellow religious, and then seeing myself calmly allow that person to do his or her own thing without my usual emo-tional upset. Consulting our inner wisdom means having in mind a specific goal (more on this later), then cleansing our mind of external dis-tractions by some relaxation exercise, and, in that calm and focused meditative state, inviting the Lord (or some other spiritual counselor) to help us understand and move towards atti-tudes and behaviors more consonant Jesus, unlike ourselves, with the obedient love with which a allowed himself to Christian wants to identify. This differ-entiates consulting our inner wisdom be angry only.when from simple behavior modification because it sees the change in ourselves the Father's honor and as inspired by the example of Jesus and glory were attacked. not simply as a personal social or emo-tional adjustment, helpful though that might be. Take, for instance, the ques-tion of boundaries. We are all aware how careful we are to pro-tect the spiritual frontiers of our Christan, Jesus-inspired integrity. Anger, rooted in pride, is one such protection effort. Jesus, however, unlike ourselves, allowed himself to be angry only when the Father's honor and glory were attacked. See, for example, the cleansing of the temple or the "woes" in Matthew's Gospel. At all other times, personal attacks did not seem to move him emotionally. When we honestly consult our inner wisdom, we may note boundaries of ours that we fail to protect enough. We may fail to caution ourselves regarding the sight or memory of a sexually attractive person. We may carelessly allow ourselves to recollect wounding words or actions that, even years later, cause us to tighten our fists or clench our jaws. Reflecting upon our inner wisdom, we can suspect or see the dangers of these reactions and thereby find ourselves protected against deep tenacities and inva-sive roots. "When you bury hate in your heart, you bury it alive" is a piece of liberating wisdom worth remembering. ~,~-~-~L~ ~ July-August 2000 Ottensmeyer ¯ Consulting Your Inner Wisdom Some Helpful Preliminary Disdplines Any relaxation exercise that suits our personality may be used to induce a meditative state. Relaxing the muscles from the head on down throughout the body is a common practice. The point is to pull the mind away from the leaping about that characterizes our ordinary mental activity. As one Eastern mystic put it, "the mind is like a tree full of chattering monkeys." Another approach, count-ing backward from thirty, demands just enough concentration to clear the mind of other thoughts. Paying attention to your breath-ing also slows down the inner agitation. The current enthusiastic practice of walking a labyrinth serves the same purpose--certainly this was the reason why many European cathedrals have a labyrinth carved in the floor near the entrance. Working through a series of yoga exercises, too, or focusing on a mantra helps some achieve the same end. Before entering into such a disciplinary exercise, it is impor-tant to have a goal in mind: "Jesus, I want to go into the place where you live in me, sit with you there, and talk about this com-pulsion to anger, to judgment, that spurts up so frequently, so involuntarily within me. Open to me your way of living with anger, for you felt it too. Help me draw on the many times I have given in, and the times I have restrained myself and 'stuffed' down my anger, only to see it blaze up in a trivial context once again, a con-text that was most inappropriate. Lord, I want freedom--to the degree my frail humanity allows--freedom from this compulsion. Lord, I am admonished by the wisdom you,.and others, have taught me. I have seen people mellow with the years, and others grow sour. Seeing someone act harshly, hearing another cut into someone's reputation, I react angrily at once, from the simple proud conviction that 'I wouldn't do it that way!' And I quickly find myself locked emotionally and mentally into scathing criticism." Jesus gently points out to us--after we wait silently for a while--that the only times he became angry were when the Father was attacked, ignored, impugned in some way. Our petty and obsessive responses melt before his gentle encouragement. Sometimes when we journey inwardly we become more acutely aware how often we fall into stubborn, addictive behaviors about which we feel helpless. Who is this "other" person who shows up within me, powerful, demanding, whom I watch with anguish as if it were a stranger? We have tried therapy, prescription drugs, behavior modification. The one.thing lacking to these tactics-- Review for Religious and I do not deny their value--is this: They rarely draw on that inner wisdom, that Jesus-centered encounter, where true change can take place. For instance, Alcoholics Anonymous has helped innumerable people, and indeed has an important spiritual com-ponent, namely, surrender to a Higher Power. But surrender in faith is only a beginning. There needs to be private self-ques-tioning that draws on the inner wisdom with which we are graced. Wl~en an addictive, destructive pattern has invaded our psyche so that a part of our life has become disconnected from the normal flow of life, we need to reach into the deepest resources within us: grace, the voice of Jesus, our inner wisdom. Within this intense, highly focused place in our mind, we call on Jesus to walk us through another pattern of behavior. Mental rehearsal is common to many forms of psychother-apy. Seeing yourself in the company of Jesus, however, and con-trasfing sad experiences of the past with "bright angels" of wisdom and true freedom, we choose a different, liberating pattern of action. We establish new boundaries, mentally and visually mov-ing away from the edges of danger. The mental rehearsal itself is now a new behavior that we can draw on when temptation returns. The hand retracts instead of reaching for the bottle, the eyes turn away from the stimulus to lust (maybe "custody of the eyes" was not just a life-depriving tactic after all!), the serving spoon is put down after one moderate portion. Psychologists continue to study how the mind visualizes behaviors and procedures. Imagination and imagery can be used in very sophisticated ways. In a recent New Yorker article, Malcolm Gladwell asks: "What do Wayne Gretzsky, Yo-Yo Ma, and a brain surgeon named Charlie Wilson have in common?" The answer: their practice of careful visualization before any action is taken. These men are virtuosi, and they exercise their great technical skills internally first. They mentally see an action through to the end before they perform it externally. Charlie Wilson, during his morning run, looks at each of the day's operations in his head, visualizing the entire procedure and its potential outcome. He says, "When I was actually doing the operation, it was as if I were doing it for the second time." Once, after finishing an operation, .taking off his gloves, and heading off down the hall, he suddenly realized that "the tape he had been playing in his head didn't match the operation that had unfolded before his eyes. 'I was correlating everything--what I saw, what I ~dy-August 2000 expected, what the X rays said. And I realized that I had not pur-sued one particular thing. So I turned around, scrubbed, and went back in, and, sure enough, there was a little remnant of tumor that was just around the corner. It would have been a disaster.''3 Consulting our inner wisdom involves a similar attention to detail. The skills to visualize here, however, are not the motor skills, but rather the spiritual skills we have accumulated over the years through prayer, scriptural study, and the counsels of wise Christians in spiritual reading and in the living church. It is all there inside, waiting to be drawn on like a rich bank account. Adding to the Inner Wisdom We sometimes feel empty, wandering endlessly in our private deserts. We feel locked into decades-old mental labyrinths. Our motivation flags. Dorothy Day once told a reluctant young friend that God "makes us understand this distaste, this recoil from reli-gion. The lethargy comes from a. consciousness of the immanence of the struggle, the fact that it is unceasing and will go on to death, and we often think that sheer thoughtless paganism would be a relief. ''~ But deep within we accept what the great John Cardinal Newman wrote: "Prayer is to the spiritual life what the beating of the pulse and the drawing of the breath are to the life of the body. It would be as absurd to suppose that life could last when the body was cold and motionless and senseless, as to call a soul alive which does not pray. The state or habit the spiritual life exerts itself consists in the continual activity of prayer.''5 Our task consists in never giving up on the faithful practice of prayer. How often we have heard that! And each morning we awake with renewed intention. But then we shoot through the day like a bullet, "busy about many things"--good things, too. When we finally bring ourselves to our inner wisdom, finally sit at the feet of Jesus just for a while, it seems we hear him say: "Until you are convinced that prayer is the best use of your time, you will not find time for prayer." And the sentence haunts us, but also frees us now for the best use of our time. It is as though a key has turned in a lock. Sometime~ it is helpful to have a favorite saint join you in that central place of peace. St. Joseph, who never ~ays a word in the Gospels, is delighted when you join him for an evening and sit with him on a bench just outside the little house in Nazareth. Review for Religious Perhaps Mary will come out, too, and rest awhile as the sun sets behind the Galilean hills. There is a beautiful view from Nazareth over towards the Roman city of Sepphoris, and even beyond to-the great sea. They will talk to you if you question them. When Problems Arise, When Hopes Surface When we go with Jesus into th~ place of our inner wisdom, we make starding discoveries. We may find problems we did not know we have. We are likely to become aware of wasteful, regrettable ways that our head and heart have been capable of, but cannot well afford. There are innumerable clamorous voices. There is the insistent voice of the Problem Solver. He wor-ries relentlessl~ about the future. The muscles around his eyes are taut because he is always peering ahead, looking for solutions there in the distance. He causes headaches and upset stomachs. The expectations of others are his con-stant concern as he tries to weigh a chance remark, interpret a fleeting facial expression. There is no center from which he acts. Life is one wrenching effort to get control of things and people. His bulky appointment calendar, like Marley's chain, gives him away. Another recognizable voice inside us is the Self-Accuser. Her skin gets hot, her hands become fists, as she recalls awkward words and clumsy gestures from years past. She plays memory tapes over and over in our head. No one is more persistent in tearing us down than she is: "You have been in religious life for fifty years now, but that is no proof that God loves you." Nothing so saddens, so pierces the heart like this cry, one we have all heard many times. The Self-Accuser has only to stop talking and thus give,us a quiet moment to lift our eyes to the cross or listen to Jesus' many words of love for us, or to hear Yahweh's endear-ments in the words of prophets and psalmists. But, beaten down by the Self-Accuser's words or shrinking from her grimaces, hear-ing we do not hear, seeing we do not see--because the Self- Accuser in us relendessly shares her deafness and blindness with us, and we chronically allow it. Sometimes it is helpful to have a favorite saint join you in that central place of peace. j~uly-Aug~tst 2000 There are other inner voices. Perhaps most persistent is the voice of the Lonely One. It does not let us forget that we long to love and be loved, to hold and be held, to whisper and be whis-pered to, to beclose to Another and not feel so alone. Sometimes we do feel consoled and calmed. The lonely restlessness at the center of our being, however, can never be completely quieted; perhaps it is not meant to feel so much peace. It is a reminder of" our desire for our heavenly home. How poignantly John of the Cross describes this quest for the Beloved in his Spiritual Canticle: "Where have you hidden, Beloved, and left me moaning?" In the hollow center of the soul where inner wisdom and grace live, there also dwells this urgent longing, We carry this wound in our heart. We become aware of it sometimes with hopeful anticipation, some-times with fear. In time, achieving greater integrity--the union between what we appear outwardly to others and what we know inwardly to be true--may calm us to some degree. Disturbing voices within us are balanced by "bright angels" calling us to. greater integrity. We long for inner peace, but only sometimes, with our inner wisdom, do we experience a joyous hope for it. Letting Memory remind us "of those splendid moments when we were touched by God, when we felt the reality of God deeply, is inner wisdom. Those blessed recollections remain when thought and emotions became as one with.an intensity that seems like an embrace. These are wells to which we can return time and again. Another support is Imagination: gathering together the way-ward impulses of our heart, humbly putting them before Jesus as the woman caught in adultery did during her brief moments with him after all the others had gone. And she heard him say, "Neither do I condemn you" (Jn 8:11). We long to hear such healing words, words of forgiveness that bring an offer of reconciliation. Unlike her, we may still hold out, failing to hear those words because of our pride and shame. St. Paul insists: "We entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God" (2 Co 5:20). The repetition of per-sonally inspiring gospel texts (we all have our own)--in a mantra-like fashion, but more intentionally, until they infuse the heart--evokes and strengthens the inner wisdom. "The Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name" (Jn 15:16). "You did not choose me, but I chose you" (Jn 15:16). Allowing such words to soothe the heart steadies our resolve. As the Curg d'Ambricourt affirmed on his deathbed in Georges Bernanos's novel The Diary of a Country Priest: "All is grace." l~eview for Religious Jesus the Center of Our Being It helps to anchor our resolve in one basic' truth: Jesus is the center of our being, our very existence. Until we can accept that, we cringe when we hear Jesus uttering those breathtaking demands to his disciples: "Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up h.is cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it" (Mt 10:37-39). Who does this Jesus think he is, pushing into our lives and taking them over? Presuming on our most instinctive loyalties! Preempting our deepest affections! Usurping our natural ties to father, mother, son, and daughter! Boldly proclaiming himself the most important person in our lives! This cross which he demands we take up daily disorients our whole lives, doesn't it? These demands are one way of forcing us to admit quite simply--and we are dazed by the thought--that we are not the center of our own life. Everything in our consumer culture tries to convince us that we are. If we can swallow and digest that one truth, many of the pieces in this vast jigsaw puzzle of our lives would fit together wonderfully. When we realize that Jesus made us the center of his life within his obedient love for his Father--these demands become acceptable, even desirable. My favorite image of intimacy with Jesus comes from John's Gospel. The beloved disciple, while re.clining at table on that unforget-table evening, leans back onto the breast of Jesus. Consulting the inner wisdom that God has put into our hearts, we know we are invited to do the same. Do we have the courage, the love, to do so? Notes ~ Thomas Keating, Open Mind, Opoz Heart (New York: Amity House, 1986), p. 35. 2 Keating, Open Mind, p. 112. 3 Malcolm Gladwell, "The Physical Genius," New Yorker, 2 August 1999, p. 63. 4 Dorothy Day, "Letter to an Agnostic," America (90th Anniversary Issue) 180, no. 13 (17 April 1999): 8. s Quoted in Saint Meinrad Archabbey's Community Bulletin, 4 July 1999, p. 2. ~dy-August 2000 EILEEN E O'HEA Tell Them, Tell the New Members. religious vocations A Mission is clear. That is, most if not all religious insti-tutes have spent days, weeks, months on mission state-ments for their communities. And they have done this bravely, wisely, prayerfully. These statements, coming from their lived experience as dedicated men and women, represent not only what they are doing now but also what they hope to do, or do better, or do more of. Concern for the poor, the marginalized, the disenfran-chised is a substantial part of communities' commitment to do whatever they can to facilitate the reign of God here on earth. A sister in my community, Elaine, one we all agree is charismatic in the true sense of the word, has been riding the chartered bus from New York City to the Bedford Hills Women's Correctional Facility every other Sunday. The bus is filled with inner-city children going to see their mothers. It is a two-hour ride. Elaine's con-cern for the women in prison and for their continuing relationship with their children has made these Sunday visits possible. For more than thirty years Elaine has worked in what she calls "the slammer." Eileen P. O'Hea CSJ, a decade-long contributor to our pages, had her third book published in May: In Wisdom's Kitchen: The Process of Spiritual Direction (Continuum). Her address is still 1750 Marion Street, #8; Roseville, Minnesota 55113. Review for Religiotts "The slammer" is an accurate term because, as Elaine enters, at least ten gates must open and slam shut before she gets to the room where she works within the razor-wired enclosure of this maximum-security prison. The room is now called The Children's Center. Elaine's job has been to do whatever she can to help the women keep in touch with their children. This article will not attempt to describe all that is involved in Elaine's ministry in prison, or to describe the eight convents (called Providence Houses) that she and others have reopened so that women leaving prison have a place to live and a chance to begin again in a new environment. Their children come too, of course. The sisters liv-ing in these houses with the women and children are quite clear about the mission-and-ministry statements of their congregation, the Sisters of St. Joseph of Brentwood, New York. Stories like Elaine's (or Eugene's, as the case may be) are true of individuals or groups in many communities--and are attract-ing new members. "Come and see," we say. Come, join us in try-ing to make a better world. Come, help to bring about systemic change. Every year a few do come. They are searching; they seek something worthwhile to give their life to. They want to make a difference, and they want to be with others, with communities that are facilitating the reign of God on this earth. For some new members, religious life seems to work for a while but then seems to be "not enough," not enough of what they looked for or hoped to find. "What do you get for doing this?" they ask, or "Why stay?" after the excitement of discovery fades; "I can do this without a vowed life of poverty, chastity, and obedience." And they are right; they can. Many women and men, ¯ married or partnered, hold the same values and are involved in the same types of ministry. When we invite new members into this little piece of the vine-yard, into participating with us in mission and ministry, we often forget a simple truth that might literally be underneath their skin. New members seem to be looking for three things: ° a lived expe-rience of gospel values through the mission and ministry of the community; ¯ intimacy, which is part of the friendship found within community; ° and intimacy with the Divine. It is this third one I am concerned about. Elaine and the Providence House sisters are, without a doubt, prayerful, God-centered, holy women. They reflect on the day's Scriptures together, talk about the meaning of the texts for their July-August 2000 O'Hea ¯ Tell Them, Tell the Nay Members. personal life and for their ministry, and they are committed to some personal prayer each day, usually some form of contempla-tive prayer. If we put prayer, community life, and ministry together, then why is it "not enough"? Admittedly, prayer or Scripture shar-ing sometimes means that those present share their personal strug-gles, philosophies, and theologies and thus can seem too intellectual, or too focused on the external ministerial needs, or too routinely self-focused. Most times, however, it is a heartfelt response to divine inspiration and the Gospels. Is this not "enough"? Perhaps not. Maybe those great mentors like Elaine and others are not sharing quite enough with the new member. We seem to do well at providing and accompanying new mem-bers in meaningful ministry. We also share community and friend- ~hip withthem, but we know, and hope they know, that we cannot supply what did not happen for them in their families of origin. Alice Miller, a leading psychologist of our time, states: "What you didn't get at age two, you will never get." Why? Not because we will not know love and affirmation, but because we will not know them as a two-year-old needed to know them. Intimacy and love is often an issue for new members, and they must work hard at discerning what they are meant to find within the community and what they must find within themselves. Frequently they feel there is not enough intimacy because deep friendships seem hard to find among the members. This is so because most of the members are much older, or are already bonded in relationships that have endured for years, or because the older members are so involved in their ministry that they do not have the time or the energy for anyone else. We probably will never resolve successfully all that is involved in the struggle for intimacy and love within religious communities, but we can do better. What remains after considering prayer, community life, and ministry is this: What do we get for doing all this? What has kept Elaine trudging up to the slammer each day for thirty years? What makes h6r such a holy woman? Is there some experience so sus-taining that makes it worth everything? Is it possible that you, Elaine, have experienced being grasped by Divine Love? Is there something that happens, intimacy with the Divine, that holds you, sustains you, makes you the very delightful and humorous person we all know? Did you encounter Christ in your ministry to the poor and is this what transformed you? Do you, Elaine, know, really know, intimacy with Divine Love or know you dwell in inef- Review for Religious fable Mystery? And is what you experience available to me, the new member? Can you tell me---if, indeed, it did happen for you-- whether it happened all at once, or gradually through the years, and what kinds of psychological, emotional, and spiritual ups and downs you have gone through? Was there one experience that was more formative for you than any other? Intimacy with Divine Love (and people experience it in a variety of ways) is what the human heart longs for, searches for. Our nature is such that we are all meant to realize union in and with the Divine even though each of us will experience it differ-endy. So, when we invite new members to "come and see," we must tell them what they get. In my novitiate days the sixty-four novices (thirty-two have remained these forty years) were told by a very wise and very Irish mistress of novices that, if we left all, we would receive back a hun-dredfold. Did we? I cannot speak for others, but my guess is that most (maybe not all) would say yes and that they would make the same life choice if they had the opportunity to live it over again. They just never say exactly why they would do this. Intimacy in any human relationship of true love is rarely spoken about in detail. The same is true of intim, acy in and with Divine Love. Mystics write about human and divine love because they break through egoeentricity and are no longer reticent or ashamed to speak of the wonder, the awe, the love they experi-ence. Poets write of human and divine love and tease our spiritual appetite by circling around some pro'found experience. They are like eagles riding the air current, then soaring so high we lose sight of them and what they are expressing. They stir up the embers of our hearts with their hints, but eventually leave us feel-ing tantalized by possibility. I do not think it can be any other way. Relationships of true love are intrinsically mysterious because the experience is beyond words, beyond intellectual constructs. The words of the poet point us to the moon, as the Zen saying goes, but once you see the moon the pointer is no longer neces-sary. In fact, it is an impediment. What remains after considering prayer, community life, and ministry is this: What do we get for doing all this ? July-August 2000 O'Hea ¯ Tell Them, Tell the New Members. What ke~ps us from at least giving hints as poets and lovers do? What can we say to new members if we are not poets? Some, like the poets, will use romantic language to describe their expe-rience of the Divine; others will be more concrete or more tran-scendent in expressing their experience. Recendy, at the end of a mission-and-ministry convocation, someone complained that he seldom heard Jesus referred to throughout the weekend. One of the participants responded by asking, "Is it more important to quote Scripture and refer explic-itly to Jesus or to do what he did and invite people to share the communion of table fellowship with us?" A good question, a great response. It has a familiar ring to many of us. It is the tension between doing works of justice and peace and theologizing about them, and then reflecting on them and integrating them as part of our own personal journey of faith. Simply naming God and Jesus as we talk about our lives and ministry is not what I am referring to. I want "hints" from Elaine and from the remaining thirty-two members of my novitiate. I think the reasons we hesitate to speak about our religious experi-ences are many. We do not all believe the same things about God or Jesus any more, and we do not want to offend, or we are afraid of exposing what is most sacred to us because it might meet with disdain and scoffing, or become the subject of theological combat. And so we are quiet. The pearl of great price is buried. Religious experience is always unique, different with every individual. Two categories, however, help to explicate distinct modes of experience. For those whose religious experience is the esoteric, God is the One beyond all names .and forms and is Mystery. There is nothing to say and nothing to tell because, over their years of spiritual searching, they have discovered this truth: God is ultimately an ineffable Mystery. Some not only take refuge in this discovery, but even collapse into it. They stop searching and ride on their limited knowledge, presuming that what they have discovered is all that can be realized. Consequently, their relationship with ineffable Mystery is rarely spoken of. I think some new members want to know that this experience of ineffable Mystery is not the dead end of the spiritual journey, but a realized source of joy in the one experiencing it; that this connection with the Divine, an experience beyond any human connection, makes a life of celibacy the only choice for them; and that it is this par-ticipation in divine life that impels them to minister to others and Reviev~ for Religious thereby have an experience, however fragile, of equanimity, integrity, wholeness. Esoterics must learn how to share their expe-rience of ineffable Mystery with the new members and admit to them that there is such a thing as the hundredfold. For some others, another type of religious experience is open, one frequently referred to as exoteric. It is the experience of a personal relationship with the

Issue 55.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1996. ; lived experience of all who find that the churcfl's rich heritages of spirituality support their personal and apostolic Christian lives. The articles in the journal are :meant to be informative, practical, or inspirational, written from a theological or spiritual or sometimes canonical point of view. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly 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 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 St. Bernadetie Convent ° 76 University Blvd. East ° Silver Spring, MI) 20901 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ I)uluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©1996 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy an}, ~naterial (articles, poe,ns, 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 Copyrigh~ 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. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read James and Joan Felling Iris Ann Ledden SSND Joel Rippinger OSB Edmundo Rodriguez SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living MARCH/APRIL 1996 * VOLUME55 ¯ NUMBER2 contents 118 symposium - part I Religious Life's Ongoing Renewal: Will Good Intentions Suffice? Miriam Ukeritis CSJ provides some examples of actions taken by various religious congregations in their renewal and makes some evaluative reflections. 133 143 seeking God The Urban Hermit: Monastic Life in the City Theresa Mancuso describes the life of an urban hermit as integrating the contemplative life of the poustinia with the marketplace where a living is earned. Enclosed in the Mystery of Jesus Marie Beha OSC explores various aspects of enclosure as part of the Christian mystery into which we all are invited. Review for Religious 159 171 growing old Biblical Contributions to a Theology of Aging Daniel J. Harrington SJ offers reflections on a few biblical texts which contribute to constructing a theology and spirituality for us as we grow old as people of Christian faith. On Selling the Chalices: Vincent de Paul on Aging Robert P. Maloney CM shares the insights and feelings of Vincent de Paul in response to the process of aging. 185 report U.S. Hispanic Catholics: Trends and Works 1995 Kenneth G. Davis OFMConv and Eduardo C. Fern~indez SJ present a panoramic of the year's events within the U.S. Hispanic Catholic community. departments 116 Prisms 204 Canonical Counsel: Authority in Ingtitutes of Consecrated Life 209 Book Reviews March-April 1996 prisms Boundaries are a part of life. We think of how boundaries identify our countries and our states, our soccer fields and our tennis courts. Behavior to be proper and humor to be appreciated observe boundaries. There are time boundaries for speeches to be effective and financial limits for buying and selling. Sometimes we see boundaries through a negative fil-ter. We talk about how we do not want to feel bound in any way since that would close off possible opportunities for ourselves. Boundaries., we say, are restrictions on our human potential and freedom. Yet as a counterpoint we also experience that when cancer breaks down boundaries and has metastasized, life becomes diminished and threat-ened. So too, when people do not acknowledge certain boundaries to their own stamina, they can have a break-down or become sick. Although sometimes appearing to us to be restrictive, boundaries, then, can be appreciated in a life system for the part they play in maintaining good health and vibrant life. Witness the negative results when we humans do not observe boundaries in our polluting of streams and oceans, in our poisoning the atmosphere through chemical emissions, and in our destroying world weather patterns through the deforesting in the Amazon basin. Sometimes people, including women and men reli-gious, view religious life through the filter of boundaries which restrict. Whether it be the observance of the tra-ditional evangelical counsels of chastity, pove(ty, and obe-dience, the acceptance of a life in common, or the practice of enclosure, religious life has always had boundaries. But Review for Religious through an ecological perspective-- that ,is, religious life identi-fied as a life system--we can come to a fresh appreciation of the vital quality of the boundaries we find in it. T6day when membership inclusion for many religious con-gregations seems to eliminate all boundaries, we could ask our-selves whether in a life-system model this movement is going towards health. When there are no boundaries to the kinds of ministries taken on by members of a congregation and no bound-aries to what constitutes a life together, we might wonder whether a deadly cancer may likely enough be coursing through a life sys-tem. Since w~ are so conscious today of environmental and eco-logical concerns with a scientific realism never before possible, we need to apply a similar kind of care to religious life identified as an ecological system. Then our acceptance of certain boundaries will be situated within the .context of health and vitality. Our authors in this issue talk in one: way or another about boundaries. Evangelical counsels, community life, and the enclo-sure associated with contemplative life are all boundaries--bound-aries connected with a furtherance of life. Aging, tog, is a boundary~difficult to face for active, service-oriented people--but aging is seen by faith as another stage in our growing in Christ. Yet doubts, even so, assail us: How can the restrictions of aging, a kind of final boundary of human life, be seen as a growing? The church observance of the Lenten and Easter seasons invites us always to contemplate the growth potential of all the boundaries of human life portrayed in Jesus' paschal mystery. Jesus makes even death no longer a limitation but a boundary that issues into life. We see that Jesus does not take away the boundary of death, but rather allows it--in daily actions and in our final human act--to become the key to our entering into his own paschal mystery, culminating in new and surprising life. Our desire to identify with this paschal mystery as a way of daily living leads us to view all boundaries through the perspective of the risen Jesus. Boundaries, it seems, bring home to us how much we find life as Easter people. David L. Fleming SJ Marcb-April 1996 MIRIAM D. UKERITIS Religious Life'.s Ongoing Renewal: Will Good Intentions Suffice? symposium part Since the publication of the FORUS study, several con-gregations have taken the time to assess their efforts at renewal and plan seriously for their futures.1 This article reviews some of these efforts and identifies areas that con-tinue to require attention. Background Thirty years ago the Decree on the Adaptation and Renewal of the Religious Life (Perfectae caritatis, 1965) urged a process of renewal that would include returning constantly both to the sources of all Christian life and to the original spirit of one's institute and 'also adapting to the changed conditions of our time (PC §2). The council fathers said that the manner of living, praying, and work-ing should everywhere--especially in mission territories-- be suitably adapted to the modern physical and psychological circumstances of the members and also, as required by the nature of each institute, to the necessi-ties of the apostolate and to cultural, social, and economic Miriam Ukeritis csJ collaborated with David Nygren CM in producing the study "The Future of Religious Orders in the United States" (FORUS). The current article is one of four preo ¯ sentations made at an October 1995 symposium, "Religious Life 30 Years Later: Is This What Vatican II Intended?" held at the Jesuit Center for Spiritual Growth in Wernersville, Pennsylvania. Correspondence with Miriam Ukeritis should be addressed: De Paul University;' Center for Applied Social Research; 2219 North Kenmore Avenue; Chicago, Illinois 60614. Review.[br Religious demands (§3). Considering the various interpretations of this mandate and the various implementations and results, there can be little wonder that this symposium commemorating Perfectae caritatis is subtitled, "Is This What Vatican II Intended?-2 This question of the council's intent was not a new one. Echoes of such wonderment were heard almost as soon as the period of experimentation began. Many books and articles have appeared, reflecting on the themes of renewing, reweaving, refounding, reclaiming, restructuring, reshaping, rekindling, reen-ergizing, and recreating religious life. Simultaneously, many signs of decline and diminishment have marked the landscape of reli-gious orders in the United States. As early as 1988, in an effort to address this issue, Lilly Endowment funded a three-year study to investigate these phenomena. The researchers, themselves mem-bers of religious orders and trained in the field of psychology, made public their findings in The Future of Religious Orders in the United States (FORUS) report. Almost immediately after its release in mid September 1992, headlines in the secular press proclaimed that "Catholic orders need dramatic change to survive" (New York Times 9/20/92), "Catholic orders shunning poor" (Chicago Tribune 9/16/92), "Roman Catholic orders in decline" (Washington Post 9/26/92), "Study sees Catholic orders losing their way" (Boston Globe 9/16/92), and "Religious orders dying out; hospitals, schools may suffer" (Sunday Denver Post 9/27/92). These reports roused both the interest and the ire of many. Some thought the study an accurate reflection of the state of religious life twenty-five years after Vatican Council II, while others saw it as an unnecessarily negative assessment of religious life's efforts at renewal. In light of the controversy surrounding the establish-ment of the Council of Major Superiors of Women Religious only a few months before the publication of the FORUS findings, this sensitivity, particularly among apostolic women religious, is quite understandable. Too, the Leadership Conference of Women Religious had recently completed Threads for the Loom, its study of membership, some of whose results seemed to be contradicted by the FORUS findings.3 As serious scholars of religion and members-at-large of reli-gious orders pursued a more thorough reading of the results, and as others' reactions and interpretations began to appear in Catholic periodicals and internal newsletters, consensus emerged concerning the significance of the FORUS study.4 One of the most helpful ele- March-April 1996 Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life's Ongoing Renewal ments of the report was the summary chart, of factors shaping the future of religious life (Figure 1). This chart listed results of the study in a manner that provided agendas for many congregations, chapters, formation conferences, and planning endeavors. For that reason and because of its summary nature, this paper will refer to it in reflecting on how congregations have tried to integrate the research findings into their ongoing efforts at renewal. The diagram takes the form of a force field, a construct com-mon to social scientists. The center oval represents the current state while that on the far right depicts the desired future state. In this project it was defined as "Fidelity .to Purpose and Responsiveness to Absolute Human Need." "Restraining Forces" (left column of arrows) identifies factors which, if not inhibited, will keep a group or system in its current state or cause further decline. "Driving Forces" (right column of arrows) describes fac-tors which, if fostered/will support the movemeht of the group or system to its desired future. In this study the driving forces are portrayed as influenced by conversion, a process necessary'to respond consistently and faithfully to the Spirit of God. Co-opta-tion by the dehumanizing aspects of society permeates the restrain-ing forces. Moving toward the desired future is accomplished by attending to the driving forces and withdrawing energy from those that restrain. Unfortunately, groups tend to do the opposite, endeavoring to root out of what is undesirable and neglecting to put energy into what will take them in the desired direction. Figure 1: Shaping the Future of Religious Life in the U.S. Shaping the Future of Religious Life in the US ~ Driving Forces CONVERSION i-TExcellent Lea~ U ¯ [~ iAuthority ~ N ~ ~Corporate Idenlity T T T ~IThe GOSp~ ~ Review for Religious Overview Since the publication of the FORUS findings, the researchers have frequently been asked: Is there a future for religious life? Invariably they have responded, "Yes, definitely--if you want one and are willing to work for it!" Members of religious orders have devoted much time and effort to reading, attending conferences, and discussing the meaning of renewal. Too often their attention has been directed toward outside experts. Borrowing from the author of Deuteronomy, many act as if the answer were up in the sky or across the sea and others had to be sent to retrieve and interpret it (see Dt 30:12- 14). While consultation and input may be beneficial, the congregation must realize that ultimately the scriptural response applies here; the answer sought is "very near., already in your mouths and in your hearts; you have only to carry it out." It is here, in the imagining and implementing, that the difficulty occurs: As in many other change efforts--be it mastering a language or shedding pounds--good intentions are not enough. Effort is required. Neither Neither the FORUS study nor the presentation of any one of the scholars of religious life provides a quick and simple how-to response to renewal questions. the FORUS study nor the presentation of any one of the scholars of religious life provides a quick and simple how-to response to renewal questions. The finding and carrying out of the answer to the question of how to shape a congregation's future is as unique as the congregation and entails hard work.5 To get results, an action plan must be coupled with concerted and sustained implementation. The plan must take into account the current state of the congregation, the hopds and dreams of its members, the reality of its resources, the constraints and supports which the ~xternal environment brings to bear, and the needs of God's people. Openness to the work of the Spirit, through con-stant prayer, dialogue, and a continuous reading of the signs of the times, is critical. Evaluation and correctiori, during the process and at the conclusion,~will help keep all involved honest about their efforts and effective in the accomplishment of the group's mission. It is unfortunate that some perceive an honest assessment of a congregation's efforts toward renewal as an indictment of the March-April 1996 Uke~tis ¯ Religious Life's Ongoing Renewal work of previous leadership teams, chapters, or members-at-large. This is hardly so. With. the humble realization that the efforts of these often heroic women and men have brought a group to its current ability to be faithful to its purpose and to minister to God's people, it is only in a spirit of fidelity to the work begun by founders and foundresses, carried on through the decades by countless religious, and most recently updated by those who led initial efforts at renewal that any such critique is offered or may merit being initiated. As many have found, it is out of such love that a response of greater effort is often born. Review of Factors Among the ways that religious orders have used the findings of the FORUS study in their efforts at renewal, the most fre-quently cited areas have been "Individualism/Vocation" (in com-bination with "Role Clarity"), "Average/Excellent Leadership," and "Corporate Identity." The remainder of this reflection will consider these three areas one by one. After a brief discussion of the area, examples will be given of actions taken by some groups or congregations, and then some remaining questions will be examined. Individualism/Vocation Members of religious orders have not been alone in noting the negative consequences of exaggerated individualism. In the United States several commentaries have appeared lamenting what seemed to be an overemphasis on self and a loss of a sense of commu-nity. The work of Robert Bellah is probably the most familiar.6 Granted that a healthy sense of one's own personhood is a critical factor in one's development, it is no news that an overem-phasis on individual concerns can lead to a narcissistic self-absorp-tion. Admittedly, many of the practices and customs that marked religious life up to the time of the council could stifle the fragile sense of self that some brought their early training. Furthermore, for those who entered novitiates in late adolescence, when a per-son's developmental task is identity formation, the foreclosure of that process as they assumed the image of religious in their par-ticular institute left many aspects of these tasks incomplete and made the successful transition into mature adulthood difficult. Hence, the psychological climate in many groups tended to pro- Review for Religious duce individualism, with sentiments reflected in songs of the 1960s and 1970s such as "I Did It My Way" and "I Gotta Be Me." With the numbers of golden and diamond jubilarians far sur-passing the number of silver jubilarians in recent years, questions like "Why religious life?" and "What does it mean to be a reli-gious?" are increasingly relevant to a generation whose develop-mental task is now generativity. Hence, it is hardly surprising that the notion of "call"--particularly, "to or for what?"--is a frequent topic of conversation. (Patricia Wittberg SC reflects, in her writ-ing, on some of the elements involved in responding to a call or commitment, notably, sacrifice, common rituals and traditions, and a sense of boundaries.)7 These conversations may be fright-ening to some insofar as they seem to hark back to former prac-tices that long .ago lost their meaning. In times of transition, as the FORUS report noted, it can be particularly enticing to revert to old ways of being and doing. The challenge for religious today is to put creative energies into finding new ways:--and, in this case, identifying what the distinctive elements of the call to religious life are and how they are to be lived. One of these areas of energy is to be found in the realistic examination many congregations are conducting in the matter of associate programs. Involving laypersons in the congregation's spiritual or ministerial activities has a long history for many groups. Others have adopted it more recently as a means of wel-coming those who share in the charism of the group. Thanks to the work of RosemaryJeffries and others, there is increasing clar-ity as to how individuals who are members of associate commu-nities do and do not relate with vowed members of the congregation,s Appropriate boundaries, the meaning of mem-bership, and modes of belonging are increasingly common topics at formal convenings of religious and around the kitchen table. Such discussions serve to enhance an understanding of vocation in today's world. As a separate but related concern, the FORUS study cited role clarity as a significant issue for members of religious orders, par-ticularly women. There is abundant evidence that religious are struggling to address this. The energy displayed in this country as the Lineamenta document circulated before the 1994 Synod on Religious Life was striking. Intended or not, this event provided an excellent public forum for conversations concerning the role of religious. There can be no doubt tha't religious in the United ~qarcb-Aptql 1996 Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life's Ongo.ing Renewal States are directing their attention to self-definition rather than looking to outside bodies to provide the answer to the question "What does it mean to be a religious in the church today?" In general, it is encouraging to hear religious focused increas-ingly on the accomplishment of the mission of Jesus as expressed through their charism. While the funding of retirement contin-ues to be a concern in the face of dwindling material resources, the new energies that congregations have been devoting to ministries that address critical needs, to realistic ways of supporting new members, and to clarifying the meaning of membership are all signs of movement in the direction of a vital future.9 In reflecting on issues related to vocation, the meaning of membership in a community remains to be examined. Old ways of belonging (common ministry, common schedule, many restric-tions on external involvements) no longer seem functional, but what are the new ways to determine what being a member of a community means? The 1994 Synod .on Religious Life acknowl-edged that community does not necessarily involve the members' living together. Today, however, it is often easier to state what community is not than to describe what it is. Resistance encoun-tered in attempts to describe what it is may relate~to the reality that any definition will place demands or limits on those who choose to belong. The pull of individualism continues to be strong. There must be continuing efforts to grapple seriously with what vocation means to individuals and what its lived expres-sion should include. Undoubtedly, the lived expression of com-munity will take different forms in different groups. Average/Excellent Leadership Members of religious orders are not alone in expressing great interest in leadership and the development of leaders. Officers of major funding groups and administrators of sponsored institu-tions have, in conversations, voiced serious concern about the ability of religious to provide the leadership required to direct the efforts of religious organizations in an increasingly complex world. The absence of plans to address this concern, even after its identification, is even more alarming. Finally, the fact that the pool of religious from which to select and train leaders is dwin-dling adds to the urgency of this consideration. The search for opportunities for leadership training, based on a set of competencies demonstrated to be critical for religious Review for Rel(glous leadership, continues, Unfortunately but typically, this se~irch starts only after individuals or teams have already been selected for their position. Few congregations are at the point of developing a systematic means of providing their members with leadership training. This is complicated further by the fact that the cost of such programs may be or appear to be beyond the financial means of some congregations. One group reported dif-ficulty in finding a total of $1000 for three days of training for a five-member team. Yet, in the world of professional development, this sum is not an atypical cost for one individual to partic-ipate in a weekend program. Efforts to address seriously the leadership issues within congregations have taken many forms. One group devised a three-year series of four-day leadership-skills workshops. All mem-bers under a certain age were expected to par-ticipate in one cycle. The content of these sessions was basic, ranging from how to run a meeting to how to read a balance sheet. It included segments dealing with human-resource issues such as recruiting, hiring, supervising, and firing staff and managing volunteers as well. This not only provided busy people the opportunity to become acquainted with basics of leadership, but also assisted the congregation in identifying its members' var-ied gifts. It had the side effect of enabling participants to interact with one another in ways they might not otherwise experience and served as a means of encouraging some members who might be hesitant or reluctant to see themselves in positions of leader-ship to pursue additional education. Clearly, this congregation is providing for its own future leadership needs, for at some future time some members of this group will surely find themselves in positions of community leadership. The leadership group of another congregation instituted a mid-term evaluation of their ministry as leaders. Having developed at the beginning of their term a ministry plan for their four years in office, they conducted the evaluation at the end of their second year. Results of this effort provided information concerning where and how they might refocus their efforts, alter their strategy, or enhance communication on critical issues. It also gave them a sense of affirmation regarding work well done. Few congregations are at the point of developing a systematic means of providing their members with leadership training. March-April 1996 Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life's Ongoing Renewal Corporate identity provides an answer to the question "What is this group known for ?" The constant challenge, along with the gentle shift that is occurring with congregational leadership, manifests itself in the willingness of members to allow leaders to exercise their leader-ship skills. Given that many members are steeped, perhaps uncon-sciously, in a culture of individualism, it can be difficult to attend to the call of a leader or leadership group and to channel one's energy in a direction set by others, especially when it is not one that the member would choose. The good news is that capable leaders have learned much about the when and how of man-aging consensus. Paralysis resulting from rigid adherence to consensus processes is less fre-quent. Some of this is true because outstanding leaders have learned to listen to their members. They read the pulse of the community, under-stand what is said between the lines, and attend to the climate of the group. By doing this they are able to gauge thetiming of a program or intervention, frame it in a manner that enables members to receive it, and reframe it when resistance seems likely to thwart the outcome. The leader-ship of a large congregation encountered such resistance after announcing for the coming year a reflection process on the group's previously identified focus. The chapter's response was loud and clear: resistance, based on the complaint that the congregation's members had not been consulted before the announcement. Rather than insist on its prerogative to lead by setting the agenda for implementing congregational goals, the team responded by acknowledging the concern. In the face of time constraints and at the cost of additional effort willingly contributed by the team members, they amended the plan to include a consultation with the members. In the final analysis, the project ran almost exactly as initially presented--with the addition of the consultation step that ensured the success of the effort. The community experi-enced a year-long dialogue that resulted in deeper self-under-standing and greater commitment to the group's focus. It is not only within congregations that outstanding leaders exercise their ministry. Groups of leaders have joined together to influence not only the church and religious life but also soci-ety at large. One regional group has chosen to confront media use of negative stereotypes in portraying religious. They are deter- Review for Religious mined to educate local media personnel about the positive reali-ties of religious life. Calls by leadership for prayer and fasting are increasingly common and are taken seriously by members. A leadership team formally called its members to prayer and fasting on a set day each week as a means of discerning and seeking openness to the call of the Spirit regarding the future of their congregation. In terms of the questions remaining, the growing number and the growing complexity of contemporary needs appear to out-strip religious orders' ability to develop the leadership skills and organize themselves enough to address these needs. For some individuals, relinquishing both the satisfactions and the pains of direct apostolates in order to develop and use leadership skills to achieve systemic and organizational change may be the form of a new asceticism, For others, learning how to be effective board members of congregational and external institutions may be the way to exercise leadership. The critical issues outlined in the introduction to this section remain. They are summarized best in the question concerning the willingness and the ability of reli-gious congregations to provide leadership not only for themselves but also for the institutions they sponsor and the ministries in which they are involved. Corporate ldentity Of all the driving forces identified in the FORUS study, cor-porate identity was perhaps the most misunderstood. It does not imply a congregation's insistence on one type of ministry or one site at which all would live and work. Corporate identity is, rather, a common focus for the life of the ~roup. In a sense, corporate identity provides an answer to the question "What is this group known for?" Corporate. identity is not identical with charism, but flows" from charism. It is the manner in which a religious con-gregation, being faithful to its founding purpose, attempts to focus its many resources to respond to today's most pressing human needs. As avenues of ministry expanded after the council, it became increasingly common for members to be involved in any of the works in which a professional might be engaged. These ministe-rial moves--often in the form of entrepreneurial enterprises-- reflected the zeal of the members as they sought new ways to minister in today's world while simultaneously using both their March-April 1996 Ukeritis * Religious Life's Ongoing Rene~val innate gifts and the skills they had developed. At other times the forces of individualism moved members to pursue areas of inter-est regardless of the connection of their work with the congre-gation's mission. In both cases, this resulted in the dispersion of religious women and men. Religious came to be identified more and more as individual ministers, frequendy heroic in their efforts, frequently invisible as religious. The mutual relationship between the congregation and the individual member, particularly as related to the mission and ministry, was lost. Media reports that document the work of a religious priest, sister, or brother fre-quently fail to mention the member's congregation by name. Changes in the general population as regards violence, increased poverty, and widespread drug abuse--along with greater cultural diversity in the United States--have forced religious to rethink the locus and mode of their ministerial involvements. Increased complexity resulting from globalization and new tech-nologies has heightened the challenge. The overwhelming demand for new understandings and additional language skills, coupled with the shift in the ability of religious to respond .enthusiasti-cally with bodily presence to many of these situations, demands serious examination of how resources are used and immense cre-ativity in crafting responses. Many able leaders of congregations recognized their mem-bers' need for a focal point of congregational energies. Such a requirement is basic to the dynamics of any functioning group: all the more so for a group of individuals who have professed a life commitment in a religious congregation. In most cases these loci began as small endeavors. In some instances initial efforts seemed to fail, as in the case of one group's attempt to establish a shelter for adolescent girls. Examination of the situation and a willingness to admit shortcomings, learn from apparent .defeat, and directly address problem areas were critical in the. revitalization of that effort and its success today. A group with a long history of staffing private academies opted to replicate a successful project that another congregation had begun in the area. It took the form of a learning center for at-risk middle-school students in the inner city of a metropolitan area. The congregation took care to establish a focused sponsoring group as it missioned some members to initiate the work. This sponsoring group not only provided both the civic and religious communities with a sense of stability regarding the project, but Review for Religious also was a positive factor in securing funding and contributions from outside sources. For example, alumni/ae of other schools sponsored by the congregation (particularly schools that had been closed) found a type of kinship with the ministry. They were enthusiastic in their support of this new educational venture, which included a school, a pre- and after-school study center, summer camp experience, and a locus for parent education. In it they saw themselves forming a link with the next generation of those served by the very congregation that had given them an excellent education. As in the example described in the earlier FORUS report, sev-eral congregations--each one using a process that worked best for it--have selected an issue such as domestic violence, home-lessness, or ecological awareness as a focus for their corporate efforts. In such situations the members' activities range from let-ter writing to involving students or parishioners in direct-service projects. On a congregational scale, artists have pooled their tal-ents to create productions intended both to raise funds to sup-port the work and to raise consciousness about the issue. Members have encouraged their sponsored institutions to participate in walks to support the cause, again both to raise money and to make the public more aware of the issue. Congregations have pooled resources to provide salaries for state or regional advocacy. Once again, both direct action and efforts, at systemic change are crit-ical. As Amata Miller IHM noted in the video presentation that accompanied Threads for the Loom, one o~ the contributions that religious congregations can make is in their commitment to a geographic area. Few individuals are able to commit the twenty or more years required to make significant changes' in a neighbor-hood, but a religious congregation can make that commitment-- and ensure that change. For any group interested in addressing the question of cor-porate identity, several pitfalls remain. The. process requires, com-mitment from a core group. Obtaining a sense of the members--often in the face of great apathy--is key, for this pro-cess is aimed at group ownership of the. project. Congregations that have .experienced success in their efforts have' been willing to think small initially, to celebrate, the seemingly insignificant vic-tories, and to encourage their members to connect the focus with current ministerial efforts. In this process it will be a rare group that does not have members trying to define some issue so that it March-April 1996 Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life's Ongoing Renewal will encompass everything: ecology and AIDS and educational reform. No one would deny the significance of any of these issues. No one group, in this day, can focus simultaneously and effec-tively on all three. Corporate America provided us recently with this lesson when Anheuser-Busch and AT&T recognized publicly the need to define themselves more clearly in order to provide better service. In 1995 Busch announced its plans to divest itself of both the Eagle snack-foods division and its entertainment parks, and AT&T made public its plans to split into three companies, each focusing on a different service or product area. Admittedly, religious orders are not major for-profit corpo-rations. They do, however, stand to learn something from the world around them. Ultimately, of course, they must make sure that any such efforts of theirs are connected with the mission of Jesus, as expressed by the congregation and its charism. Without this spiritual connection, any such efforts would be a sort of fla-vor- of-the-month dilettantism. Conclusion As the reader may have noted, it is difficult to hold separate the three factors selected for review. Issues of individual mem-bership, and call (individualism/vocation), group identity (corpo-rate identity), and ways of enabling the group to accomplish its task (average/excellent leadership) do not exist in isolation from one another. Given the limits of human abilities, focus on one or another at a given time may be not only appropriate but necessary. Considering one area as the place to find "the answer," however, while ignoring the other areas of concern may lead. away from a successful resolution of a problem or to the ineffective imple-mentation of an intervention. As noted above, the hold of indi-vidualism may tend to block the best efforts of successful leaders. Ineffective leaders may not be able to make good use of a newly focused corporate identity. Clear corporate identity may enable individuals to determine the appropriateness of their member-ship in a given community. Unlike the Israelites who ultimately arrived at the Promised Land, it is not probable--and is very likely undesirable--that reli-gious life will attain the stability it seems to have experienced as late as the early 1960s.I° It is imperative, however, that members of religious orders address realistically the issues related to their Review for Religious viability and vitality)1 More than the ordinary members, religious who have been entrusted with greater responsibility for the charism of their congregation must strive to ensure that the gift given them for all of God's people is passed on. Admittedly, for some, this may entail suppression of an institute or evolution to some new form. Modeling death with dignity, in a Christian atmo-sphere of letting go, may prove to be a great lesson for a society inclined increasingly to resist surrender to the paschal-mystery cycle of life-death-resurrection. However, to fail to address the questions honesdy and work earnestly toward answers and imple-mentation might be a great infidelity to the ever present grace of God. To face all of this, We will need courage. We will need energy. We will need vision. We will need to be at ease with ourselves and our decisions. Above all, like the psalmist, we will need to keep our eyes fixed on the Lord, our God, until God lets us rest. And then we will know, as we have always known, that the effort was worth the gift of our lives, the best of our years, the length of our days.'z The title of this article reflecting on continuing efforts in the renewal of religious life 'contains the question "Will Good Intentions Suffice?" Hopefully, an answer key is not necessary to determine this author's response. Notes ~ See David Nygren CM and Miriam Ukeritis CSJ, The Future of Religious Orders in the United States: Tran~Cormation and Commitment (New York: Praeger, 1993). 2 The Jesuit Center for Spiritual Growth in Wernersville, Pennsylvania, with the cosponsorship of Review for Religious, hosted the 26-29 October 1995 symposium "Religious Life 30 Years Later: Is This What Vatican II Intended?" 3 Anne Munley IHM, Threads for the Loom: LCWR Planning and Ministry Studies (Silver Spring, Maryland: Leadership Conference of Women Religious, 1992). 4 For an executive summary of this project, see Review for Religious 52, no. 1 (January-February 1993): 6-55, or Origins 22, no. 15 (24 September 1992). See also n. 1 above. Marcb-Aptql 1996 Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life's Ongoing Renewal s While levels of energy and constraints of calendar are realities, a mantra-like refrain of "We're too tired!" or "We don't have time!" among members of religious orders would signal a host of issues more critical than age or schedules. 6 Bellah's works on this subject, each with several other authors, include Habits of the Heart (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985) and The Good Society (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1991). 7 Patricia Wittberg SC, Creating a Future for Religious Life: A Sociological Perspective (New York: Paulist Press, 1991). 8 "Results of the Survey on Associate Membership," Horizon 16, no. 2 (Winter 1991). 9 In the early 1980s, one external observer of the religious-forma-tion process likened the care given the few members who entered religious orders to the attention lavished on chicks of a nearly extinct species of birds. Resources were lavished on a few in the hope that they would sur-vive to adulthood. At times formation personnel felt as thpugh they were held hostage by both the candidates and the vowed members until they produced conditions that would get the candidates to make a life com-mitment. ,0 See Patricia Wittberg SC, The Rise and Fall of Catholic Religious Orders (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1994), for an his-torical perspective on this notion. ,1 In November 1994, the Leadership Conference of Women Religious convened a think tank on the viability of religious institutes. As reported in that month's LCWR Update, the group searched experience for lessons. After looking at examples of the merger or reconfiguration of religious institutes, the suppression of institutes to create a new congregation, and the decision of a congregation to die with grace, the group concluded that the key element in each case was leadership. In every instance the out-come was shaped by the kind of leadership that had been exercised. 12 Clare Dunn CSJ and Judy Lovchik CSJ. Playmates Winter and springtime playing leapfrog together in March, April, May, Dorothy Forman OSF Review for Religious THERESA MANCUSO The Urban Hermit: Monastic Life in the City Does urban monasticism work? What is an urban hermit? How and why live a solitary monastic lifestyle in the midst of the city? Who are these people? New forms and expressions of monastic life have occurred historically throughout the centuries in both Eastern and Western Christian tradition. They continue to evolve today in the new landscape of the modem world where the hermit's life--the monk in solitude--is not lim-ited to a rural setting, but has found its plake in the city. Monks and nuns in the twentieth and twenty-first cen-turies will be eremitical and cenobitical; they will live in communities and alone, in the country and in the. city. Monastic life has but one rule: the Gospel of Our Lord Jesus Christ. The goal and purpose of the monas-tic way is union with God, the unification of the person, human salvation, enlightenment, and wisdomuin a word, happiness. Accordingly, monastic life in every time and place is a committed and consecrated endeavor to live faithfully by the precepts of Christ. The monastic voca-tion arises when and where it will in direct response to the call of grace. The urban hermit finds himself or her-self immersed in the spiritual treasures of monastic tra-dition, an integral expression here and now of that same tradition. Theresa Mancuso published "Reflection on the Solitary Life'-' in our September-October 1994 issue. She lives at 310 Beverly Road #4F; Brooklyn, New York 11218. seeking God March-April 1996 Mancuso ¯ The Urban Hermit Bede Griffiths, the charismatic, daring Benedictine who took his monastic vocation to India and back, wrote in The Marriage of East and l/Vest that: ¯. whatever the fate of this present world, the real need is to find a way of life which is able to survive all such disas-ters. In the Roman Empire it was monastic life which saved the world . . . monks who fled to the deserts of Egypt, Palestine and Mesopotamia founded a way of life based on prayer and work in conditions of the utmost poverty and simplicity and alone survived the collapse of the Roman Empire . . . [their] teaching and example led to the foun-dation of monasteries all over Eur6pe, in which the basis of a new civilization could be found. Today. there has been a revival of monastic life all over the world., centers of ferment which [may] gradually trans-form society and make possible a new civilization. The world of Bede Griffiths appears, perhaps, far removed from the noisy metropolis of New York, Chicago, Washington, Paris, Ba'rcelona, or Hong Kong. Nevertheless, the same ageless truths of which Bede spoke are the Gospel imperatives that call monastic life into being--new forms and old, today like yesterday. That which impelled Bede Griffiths to live his own monastic life a world away in the Hindu ashram is the same impetus that has given rise to solitary monastic ventures in the heart of the city. There is no geography, no time or place, in which monasticism cannot thrive and contemplative life grow. Prayer, work, poverty, and simplicity are the bedrock of a monastic heart. Alone as solitary or hermit or in the midst of community, the monk's path (monk meaning male and female) is to be immersed in God, preoccupied with the Gospel of Christ, living its life, breathing its breath, soaked in the perennial abso-lutes about which there is no ~luestion, no geography, no barrier of age, time, place, culture, or condition. In days of old, the desert was a city, according to D.J. Chitty in his classic work about early monasticism, The Desert a City. Today, perhaps, we can say it another way: the city a desert. What is this desert, then, so fundamental to the monk's life? Desert is wasteland, wilderness, barren solitude, profound silence. Desert is seclusion where the monk searches in prayer and penance, self-emptying (kenosis), th(deliberate renunciation of selfish desires, striving for inner emptiness, awaiting the hour of God's time (kairos), the manifestation of divine grace. Review for Religious The urban hermit is a kind of monk among many. Like monks everywhere, the urban hermit is consecrated to God by vows, sacred promises public or private, temporary or perpetual, worded traditionally--poverty, chastity, obedience, stability--or stated in creative new expressions. The meaning is the same. The monk is one, consecrated, offered, surrendered in complete dedication to God, steadfast in love, permeated with an all-encompassing charity that defines the heart of the monk as lover of God, com-passionate toward all God's creatures. Love sustains the lifestyle of the monastic vocation. Monasticism is a life of union and unity, communion and com-munity, silence and solitude, depth and diver-sity. Love is the call; love, the vocation; love, the path, the way, the meaning, and the reward. God, not a human inventor, makes monks. And this God does when and where he pleases. With the entire focus of the heart fixed on God, the monastic way may weave a strange thread indeed, not perhaps the dream one had in first embarking on the monastic journey. As life unfolds, so does the call of God. Consecration, dedication, immer-sion in Christ--these are what remains. All the rest is incidental. Accordingly, as the grace of God unfolds in pers.onal human history, the fine tuning of a monastic vocation eventually comes to fit the individual. In other words, who and what we are from the hand of God and our mother's womb finally dictates who and what we must become. The mystery of sanctification is some-times conditioned by transition, but it is always and everywhere in God's hands. To be consecrated means to live in the presence of God, to be centered in him, devoted to him, belonging to him, regardless of the conditions of life which are--after all--only the environment, not the essence of the monastic vocation. It is not surprising, then, or at least it should not be, that we have come to find monks and nuns living alone in the city, years and miles from where their monastic journey began. This, too, is caught up in the mystery of salvation. The beautiful Rule of Life created nearly twenty years ago by Father Pierre-Marie Delfieux for the Jerusalem Community-- monks of the city--says: ". You can live in God's heart at the heart of the city because it is his dwelling place. Be monk and nun in the very heart of the city of God" (No. 128). This is true What is this desert so fundamental to the monk's life? Marcb-dp~ql 1996 Mancuso ¯ The Urban Hermit of individuals as well as communities. Lacking financial endow-ment that might create the illusion of security, safety, and afford complete separation from the world, the urban hermit must go out every single day into the hustle and busde of the city just to make a living. And this is exactly as it should be. To be "monk and nun in the very heart of the city of God" is to work in the midst of humanity, to suffer the problems and dif-ficulties of the job, the discipline of tasks that await one at the workplace. It is not a distraction to work in the real world. It is, rather, a call to the most generous and absolute imperative: to center one's heart by turning inward at the same time as one must turn outward in labor. There is no duality in this process; it is an act of unification, part and parcel of monastic experience. Laborare et orate. The work of balancing internal contemplative life with exter-nal work in the center of the city requires a kind of persever-ance. In the beginning, it may seem impossible to remain contemplative in the busy atmosphere of city life. But, no, it is not impossible. The heart cries out to God, "Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner," and learns, bit by bit, to pray easily in the midst of all the noisy activity and wild frenzy of the city. Over time, the monk in the world realizes the deep-est center to be one's own impenetrable fortress of joy, faith, Spirit, and Life. Later in his Rule, Father Pierre-Marie says: "What the early monks set out to seek yesterday in the desert, you will find today in the city. All monastic life is a fight and urban monasticism calls for fighters. Followers of Christ, the Beatitudes summon you to a life of real struggle in the heart of the city" (No. 129). There is no protection but God's for the urban hermit who lives and dwells in the real world, as stark and naked a reality as ever there was in the heart of the desert. Like the Desert Fathers and Mothers, the urban hermit knows the isolation and threat of the wilderness, the roar of beasts and the temptation of the heart. To find peace in the city is to walk with God in the deepest center of one's being. " The Monastic Typicon ofNeTv Skete (1980) says this about work: "Throughout history, our fathers and brethren in monastic life have taught that work is not only required to sustain oneself, but that it is equally important as a means of self-discipline and as an adiunct to prayer and worship and individual total growth. Review for Religious Work, therefore,ds part and parcel of our life, first of all, because it;is essential to monastic life in general" (Nos. 71 and 72). The urban hermit, bound by the same need to work that char-acterizes all persons, is fortunate if livelihood can be obtained working at home within the poustinia, but this is not always the case. In fact, it is rarely possible. The monk in the world must learn to accommodate to working conditions in the professions or elsewhere, whether the work~is manual or intellectual. Work joins the monk to all people of all time and place. "With the sweat of your brow shall you earn your bread" (Gn 3:19). Over time, work itself becomes sweet to the monk, for it is but another expres-sion of the inner song of the heart: "Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner." It has been said that it is not the habit that makes the monk. Nor is it the work. What is essential in mdnastic spirituality is that work and every other dimension of life be characterized by the interior spirit of recollection, purity of intention, and single-mindedness. Work is a sanctifying process, it is not a distraction. By reaching down deeper and deeper into the pool of faith in order to carry out one's work properly, the work and the worker will be immersed and bathed in the light of divine presence. Thus the monk in the marketplace is at home in God's world. In Contemplation in a World of Action, Thomas Merton wrote decades ago, perhaps the prelude for today's monk in the world: "Do we really choose between the world and Christ as between two conflicting realities absolutely opposed? Or do we choose Christ by choosing the world as it really is in Him, that is to say, created and redeemed by him? Do we really renounce ourselves and the world in order to find Christ, or do we renounce our alienated and false selves in order to choose our own deepest truth in choosing both the world and Christ at the same time?" The urban hermit, immersed now in solitude, now in actual labor outside the hermitage, seeks to integrate the contemplative life of the poustinia with the, marketplace where a living is earned. Renunciation of the false self and transcendence over the spirit of the world through the practice of interior recollection and con-templative prayer purify the heart and transform the effort to do one's best into the peaceful harmony that defines right livelihood. The monk is called by God to live alone in him--monos-- monacbos--one--single--alone. In community or in the hermitage wherever it may be, the monk strives to be of single .'focus. In the March-Apt41 1996 Mancuso ¯ The Urban Hermit marketplace the monk is living witness to the holiness of work, the goodness of the world, and the salvation of the earth by the mercy of God. As humility should characterize the soul of a monk, so, too, simplicity, charity, gentleness, tenderness, compassion will exemplify the detachment of heart that frees the religious hermit and enables the monk to live in the world without becoming worldly. The urban hermit strives to renounce that which is worldly (self-centered, egotistical, arrogant, profit-seeking, and decep-tive), to cast out and obliterate those attitudes of mind that block communion with God and harmony with one's fellow creatures on this fragile planet. The pure heart of God's solitary learns to return to the world as often as necessary, not as an adventurer seeking new pleasures or material power, but as one crucified in Christ, transfigured ,by Christ, restored to innocence and holi-ness of life. The soul of the monk, one would hope, gradually becomes transparent, clean, empty, full and brimming over with the joy that comes only from God. The Monastic Typicon of New Skete states that: "Prayer and worship are the major concerns of monastic life. Through the liturgical celebrations [monks] participate in the mysteries of the life and death of Christ, thus moving toward the universal reali-ties of resurrection and transfiguration" (No. 60). The urban her-mit, in communion with monks and nuns of every time and place, lives in the. paschal mystery of the Lord by entering into liturgi-cal celebrations, whether the Liturgy of the Hours or the Eucharist. The "divine office" marks the hours of the day, spiraling the soul in and out of psalmody, uplifting, descending, flying to God, returning to earth. The urban hermit, at work in the marketplace of the world, simply does not have the luxury of stopping to chant the Third Hour, the Sixth Hour, or the Ninth Hour of the day. Nevertheless, interior prayer should never cease, but accompany all our actions, those of labor and social intercourse, as well as the times and places when we are free to enter most deeply into the prayer of the church. Urban hermits try to celebrate as many hours of the "divine office" as are possible in the demands of every day, for life in the world requires the monk to be present to its concerns without losing the focus of vocation. Prime. Lauds. Matins. Vespers. Compline. At least pa~'t of the regular Hours m'ust be celebrated Review for Religio1~s alone or in the parish church if possible. Sometimes the urban hermit may join a religious community for the observance of litur-gical prayer. The wisdom of the desert is today the wisdom of the city-- that is, the city of God. It would be foolishness to overburden one-self by attempting to work a required 35 6r 40 hour week outside the hermitage and expect to be able to complete all the Liturgy of the Hours. Certainly, God does not require the impossible. The rule of faith is simple: Do what is possible. Do what you can. But do everything you can as best you can, with your whole heart, your whole soul, and your whole being. Concentrate the very fiber of your existence on that which is given to God without neglect-ing that which is given to people. What is the difference anyway between the basket-weaving monk in the wilderness of Egypt who goes down to sell wares at the marketplace from time to time and the computer-opera-tor monk in the center of Manhattan who commutes to Brooklyn or Queens by subway after work? It is the spirit, the heart of the monk---interior substance--that matters. That which defines the monastic vocation is singleness of focus. Prayer that is intimate and ongoing moment by moment, hour by hour, cements our union with God and prompts the conversion of our hearts over and over again, making holy not only our poor, fragile lives, but everything we touch and everyone we love. The monk is leaven in the marketplace and remains so by cherishing and using advantageously the secret silenc~e and deep seclusion of the hermitage, even when many hours must be spent outside. The Liturgy of the Hours is first and finally the greatest cel-ebration of the heart and the center of monastic life. It is the joy of Christians and the soul of monasticism. To chant the "divine office" is to enter again and again into the ageless mystery of Christ. Season by season, liturgical texts teach the heart, renew the spirit, and join humanity to God in the person of Christ, the only lover of humanity. Simplicity, charity, gentleness, tenderness, compassion will exemplify the detachment of heart that frees the religious hermit and enables the monk to live in the world without becoming worldly. MarclJ-Aptql 1996 Mancuso ¯ The Urban Hermit The monk at large may celebrate the Liturgy of the Hours in a monastery church with a community of brother or sister monks or in the parish church anywhere in the city or countryside of his or her abode. It does not matter. At the heart of the liturgy is found the whole meaning of the monastic vocation: to die and rise with Christ in fulfillment of the Father's will for the redemp-tion of the world. The Eucharist is the food of monastic life, its sustenance and joy. To find a monk who does not deeply love the liturgy is to find a sorry sort of monk. Therefore, time and energy must be made available to participate properly in the celebration, of the Eucharist. This is the heart and center of the monastic life. As practiced by Pachomius and the monks of Eastern Christendom, the Eucharist was celebrated weekly, not daily, though it remains the privilege and practice in the Latin rite to celebrate Eucharist daily. The liturgical chants that surround the Eucharist provide spiritual nourishment and food for contemplation. The urban hermit goes forth from the church after participation in the liturgy, and carries back to the city and back to the hidden place of his or her own poustinia the wealth of Scripture that echoes in the prayers of the Eucharist. Be it a tiny .apartment in a busy housing complex or a huge industrial or professional workplace, the chants and meaning of the Liturgy of the Hours and the Eucharist remain with the urban hermit all day, eveory day, feed-ing heart and mind with those things which endure, the living breath of contemplative life. Finally, the urban hermit learns to safeguard religious seclu-sion and solitude which provide the depth of silence and cen-teredness that is indispensable to the monastic way. The integrity of monastic life and the monk's personal steadfastness in this voca-tion arise from that wellspring of silence and solitude that ripened by seclusion. Nevertheless, the monk in the city must never become a self-preoccupied hermit whose reclusive tendencies spring from self-deception as if the world were a contagion to be avoided at all cost. A balance of solitude is derived from a healthy view of reality. The opposite is unsound. To live in the midst of the world as an urban hermit is not to sacrifice or minimize the essential quality of seclusion and solitude necessary for ctntemplative prayer. Urban hermits are usually not reclusive. To go inward for the sake of contemplation is a dis- Review for Refigious cipline of the heart, not an act of walls and fences. Monks in the world must come and go; while cherishing and protecting the inner sanctuary of monastic seclusion that is an essential element of the hermit's life. They accomplish this by setting and main-taining proper boundaries. Hospitality and social needs are part of reality--essential for psychological and spiritual balance, no more, no less. They, too, like everything else, must be harmonized with reality in the vocation of the city monk. All the more must the urban hermit learn to bal-ance seclusion and secular involvement, for, being alone, he or she needs to understand what constitutes a necessary monastic enclo-sure in the world and what constitutes run-ning away. Extremes can best be avoided by studying the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The Lord went apart to pray; he rested in the desert and returned to the city. So, too, the monk in the marketplace needs separation from the world. If monks today are to be the salt of society, "the monastery" must be accessible to all, so that they (those in the world who come into contact with monastic life) "may savor its life, its worship, and its message" (Monastic Typicon of New Skete, No. 28). The monk who goes forth from the silent sanctuary of a quiet hidden hermitage in the midst of the city to work and walk among the people of the world does so from necessity and generosity to let the world taste and savor the consecrated life, what it is and what it means, inviting the world to share in the worship and message of the monastic vocation. We must not hide from life, but embrace it, immersing every aspect of it into the mystery of Christ as we ourselves plunge our entire existence into the paschal real-ity, first at baptism, then throughout the day~ of our vocation. It is thus that all is transfigured b,y the grace of God and the entire cosmos shares in the transfiguration of Christ. For the urban hermit, this harmonious integration of all things is at the center of the monastic vocation. But tha~ is exacdy as it has always been for monastic life today and throughout its history--the still point in the turning world, where God and humanity meet and the spark of wisdom is given to illuminate the earth. To find a monk who does not deeply love the liturgy is to find a sorry sort of monk. Marcb-Aptql 1996 Mancuso ¯ The Urban Hermit I like to think Bede Griffiths or Thomas Merton, or indeed any of the great monks and nuns who are our spiritual forebears, might share a day or week in the life of an urban monk and find themselves altogether quite comfortable. They would recognize the rhythm of prayer, silence, solitude, work, hospitality, study, lec-tio divina, and liturgy. Those great followers of St. Anthony, father of Egyptian monasticism, or those who walk with St. Benedict, who codified monastic life--and all the others in between--should recognize in the urban hermit, monk in the world, the same hunger for God that led them in their own spiritual journeys. They would know the path, for it is one: forsaking all, embracing all, a voyage of the heart through dark and desolate places, remote and wild, desert and city, places where the monastic vocation thrives and God meets humanity in a singular embrace of love. References Chitty, D.J. The Desert a City. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1961. Griffiths, Bede. The Marriage of East and West. Springfield, Illinois: Templegate Publishers, 1982. Merton, Thomas. Contemplation in a World of Action. New York: Doubleday, 1971. At Hand but Unattended I spend my foolish life in search of marvels, of wonders to delight and startle me. The ordinary could not hold my interest, my soul each da. y demanded mystery.~ I envied those who lived when. Christ was preaching, who saw him work his wonders with a word. What drama to have seen a blind man sighted, the lepers cleansed, the deaf when first they heard. But, oh, how stupid I with all my longing, my searching for a miracle to see. I let my days go by, not ever grasping my miracle was God creating me. James F. Finley Review for Religious MARIE BEHA Enclosed in the Mystery of Jesus My " stery is a reality which we must explore from within, .a. ¯ .~. enter into, and live with. In contrast, a problem is some-thing we must externalize, be objective about, and solve. We pre-fer the latter, delighting in the challenge, the sense of mastery and control which it gives us. So we relish a "mystery" story just because it presents us with a whole set of "problems" to be solved. And we resist the mysteries in our lives even though we are fas-cinated by the breadth and depth of the big questions like "Where do we come from?" and "What is life?" Religious who freely choose to live enclosed lives present problems for many, even for many Catholics, just because they are so mysterious. Why would persons choose to confine them-selves within a drastically limited geographic space, associating, for the most part, with the same few people for the rest of their lives? It sounds as dismal as life-in-prison. But this is to make the mis-take of seeing enclosure in a problematic context. It is to bang our fists demanding an answer that satisfies us. It als0 misses the invitation to explore a mystery. Unfortunately, not much has been written on enclosure, and much of what has been done approaches it from its more prob-lematic side, presenting its canonical aspects, pointing out its rea-sonableness, or seeking to justify its continuance. Valid, certainly, since enclosure, like other incarnational realities, has external shape and form. Far more importantly, it also has a heart of mys-tery that invites exploration. Two contemporary efforts present the basic meaning of enclo-sure, inviting the reader to explore the reality to appreciate its Marie Beha OSC may be addressed at 1916 N. Pleasantburg Drive; Greenville, South Carolina 29609. March-April 1996 Beha * Enclosed in the Mystery of Jerus mystery. The first of these interpretations has been articulated by Sister Chiara Lainati in an article in Forma Sororum (vol. 4/5 [1983]: 200-203) where she describes it as a "particular way in the church of living out the paschal mystery . . . the emptying out of Christ on the cross" (p. 201). The second is that of Father Herbert Schneider:, who in his Commentary on the General Constitutions (private!y publ!shed, 1992, pp. 14-15), p[esents enclo-sure as "the place of decision to remain with the Lord" related to the statement of the Lord, "Remain in my love" (Jn 15:4). Each of our interpreters has the credentials to present this mystery of enclosure. Sister Chiara Lainati is a Poor Clare nun, a member of the protomonastery in Assisi, where she has served as abbess while continuing to do writing and research on topics related to the Poor Clare way of life. Presently she is the abbess of the small group of Clares pioneering a new contemplative foun-dation in the Vatican. Father Herbert Schneider has been provin-cial of the Franciscan province of Cologne and spiritual assistant of the Federation of German-speaking Poor Clares. At present he is in Rome as the delegate general to all communities who claim affiliation with the Franciscan Order, including the Poor Clares, In this office he has visited monasteries all over the world, presenting workshops as well as attending chapters of Poor Clare federations. Although papal enclosure directly involves only a few Christians, the reality which it symbolizes is a staple of Christian living. Each of us in our own style of life needs to incorporate such values as stability, participating in the paschal mystery, and remaining in Christ. To do this we have to accept many kinds of limits, including geographic ones. Enclosed in the Paschal Mystery Sister Chiara Lainati's "Enclosure: Characteristic Way for Clare to Express the Paschal Mystery" begins by rejecting the more traditional interpretations of enclosure as a "means" of pro-tecting chastity or of promoting the life of contemplation. In cri-tiquing the latter she points out that today there are other more suitable means, such as courses on prayer or the word of God. In her view, enclosure, like the other vows, is a way of entering more deeply into the self-emptying of Jesus. Just as poverty is described traditionally as a renunciation of material possessions, chastity as; Review for Religio us renunciation of sexual intimacy, marriage, and family, and obedi-ence as renunciation of one'~ self-will and determination, enclo-sure "limits a person in space, impoverishes her in her possibilities of action and of spatial liberty." This points out the "underside" of all the vows; they all include a saying "no" to some important human values, but only for the sake of a saying "yes" to some-thing else. "In this perspective enclosure has value in itself, as an opening of oneself to grace, just as Christ, alone on the mountain, was open to the contemplation of the Father" (p. 14). Sister Chiara treats of the origins of Clare's profession of enclosure. She believes that it originated during her brief stay at Sant' Angelo di Panzo, after she had left the Benedictine Monastery of San Paolo and before Francis took her to San Damiano, which was to become her true home. According to Sister Chiara, the group at Sant' Angelo was a community of recluses and penitents from whom Clare took "the completely new and revolutionary idea of a bond of deeper union in that kenosis of Christ which is his solitude of death on the cross" (p. ,1'5). Parenthetically Sister Chiara mentions that enclosure was not forced upon IZlare but was' her own free choice; there were other options even in her own .day. Witness the Beguine movement in which groups of pious women lived in common and practiced the corporal works of mercy. Clare could have chosen a similar form of active ministry, but she seems to have felt called to a lifestyle that included the discipline of enclosure. The question, then, is not whether Clare was enclosed, but the why and the bow of her choice. Both, according to Sister Chiara, evolved as expressions of the mystery of the kenosis of Jesus. Over and over again, Clare emphasizes the importance of "keeping one's eyes fixed on Jesus" (Heb 3:1). Specifically she urges Agnes of Prague to look in the mirror that is Jesus and to see reflected there the Infant Christ and the Crucified One: Look at the border of this mirror, that is; the poverty of him who was placed in a manger and wrapped in swaddling clothes. Then at the surface of the mirror, consider the holy humility, the blessed poverty, the untold labors and bur-dens that he endured for the redemption of the whole human race. Then in the depth of this same mirror, con-template the ineffable charity that led him to suffer on the " wood of the cross and to die there the most shameful kind of death. March-April 1996 Beba * Enclosed in the Mystery of Jesus Let us respond with one voice, with one spirit, to him crying and grieving who said: Remembering this over and over leaves my soul downcast within me (IV LAg. 19:22- 26). Looking at Jesus Crucified was not idle speculation for Clare, nor just an exercise in contemplative piety. For her, seeing involved not only believing but also living out of that belief. It meant imitation, a putting on the Lord Jesus that brought about a profound interior change. It was participation in the mystery of Jesus. As Clare looked at Jesus, what she saw was not only his bod-ily suffering but at a deeper level the. self-emptying that was sur-render to the Father's will. It was the same self-emptying that marked the incarnation ("He emptied himself, taking the form' of a servant" Ph 2:7), continued all through his active ministry ("My food is to do the will of the one who sent me" Jn 4:34), and culminated in that last triumphant cry, "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit" (Lk 23:46). What does it mean to empty oneself?. At first glance this seems a contradiction. To let go of externals, persons, or things, is theoretically possible, though dif-ficult, but to empty self of self?. How can that be? It sounds, at best, like looking for a way to lift oneself by oneself. Where could one stand, take hold of oneself, to initiate the process? Mystery again. First of all is the mystery of what we mean by self. And if that were not enough, there is the still greater mystery of the process itself. Self, as well as self-emptying, like all mysteries, can only be discovered from inside ourselves. Each of us already has some experience of what we mean by se/fwhen we say, "I am not my best self .today," or affirm, "Yes, that is true of me. That is the way I am." In each instance we have some core experience to which we turn, the bedrock of our personal identity. We recognize ourselves even when we cannot give anything like an adequate description of who we are. This is so because the self that I am is a very sim-ple concept, one that cannot easily be broken down. There is no simple recipe that will blend the right ingredients into a whole we can identify as myself Adding up qualities never sums identity. We can only work toward self-knowledge within the revelatory context of our everyday-lives. This process of self-discovery is initiated with the beginnings of consciousness and continues till death. It is dynamic, a lesson Review for Religious never completely learned but essentially ongoing. Initially the focus is on relating self to an external world, distinguishing myself from other realities. So the baby discovers: I am separate from the surrounding bed, different from mother. How separate? How different? The former distinction will be discovered quite easily; the latter may never be completely accomplished! But this is only negative knowledge: I am not .Ahead lies the whole range of positive identification: "I am .". Others hold up a mirror of how they see us and we begin to discover ourselves in that reflection. I am. baby. I am. good baby., sometimes! Fortunate the individual whose first feedback from others is real-istic and basically positive. Inevitably some of it will be neither. Others may identify us with their problems, ignore us, threaten us, deny us, abuse us. Initially we are almost completely dependent on these impressions received from others; that is why these are so formative. Most of the rest of our lives, we will experience some flashback of these first experiences of who we are. As time goes on, we begin to accumulate a growing memory bank of others' perceptions and of our own self-reflection; together these become the core of our identity We learn how we relate and are related to others, what we can and cannot do, and why we choose or refuse as we do. We come to describe ourselves in such obvious ways as age, sex, size, and shape but much more significandy as smart or stupid, as lovable or unlovable, as good enough or not good enough. Over time these labels take on the reality of personal identity; true or false, they are who we think we are and so tend to become self-fulfilling prophecy. Still, this self-concept that forms me is not written in stone; rather it is as fluid as the flow of time and changing life circum-stances. I can and do become a different person, changing in ways that are more or less profound. Acquaintances who say "I hardly recognize you" may be noting only superficial characteristics. Others who know us better remind us, in the face of surprising changes in the externals of our lives, "I always thought you might. ," under-lining the continuity that is our basic identity. So where does self-emptying come into the picture? What could it mean? On one level it can mean that openness to change which allows us to grow and develop. Unless we are willing to let go of some of our past and present identity, our self-concept remains the same. Detachment is needed if we are to move away from previous self-definition. So change, even freely chosen and Marcb-~lplql 1996 Beba ¯ Enclosed in tbe Mystery of yesus The more significant the change the greater the threat, but conversion never comes without a price tag. desired change, can be painful. It poses risks; our self will never be the same, and We have grown accustomed to its face. The more significant the change the greater the threat, but conversion never comes without a price tag. Yet this is not the fullest meaning of self-emptying. Change is self-improvement or self-destruction, depending on its direc-tion, but self is still very much in the picture. We want it to be; this is how our functional self will grow. Even when we make a destructive choice, we do so under the delusion that this is somehow to our imme-diate advantage, mistakenly opting for imme-diate gratification rather than wait for the slower-appearing benefits of disciplined effort. As our functional self becomes more clearly delineated, we find ourselves growing in per-sonal security. Faithful response to the chal-lenge of ongoing conversion prepares us for another level of letting go; we begin to be capa-ble of self-forgetfulness. The focus shifts from me at the center of the world to a broader view that is increasingly other-centered. The inse-cure .adolescent (of whatever age) grows into the generous adult capable of entering the world of the other with fewer repeated nervous glances back to "how am I doing?" Who of us has not admired individuals mature enough to hold in creative tension the concerns of self with those of oth-ers. Secure in their self-identity, they are not so preoccupied with their own needs that they cannot even see those of others. Nor are they so involved in meeting the neediness of others that the self is at risk of'being destroyed in the process. The latter is only a dis-gnised form of self-gratification that threatens dual destruction. The maturity that makes self-forgetfulness possible opens the self to the world of others, allowing for a truly personal rela-tionship, a dialogue of love. The bonding of parent and child, of a long-married couple, of friends, all exemplify letting go of self for the sake of being with, being for, another. In these experi-ences we begin to discover the paradox that in losing ourselves we find ourselves. We become more ourselves because of the other, and we are grateful. These loving relationships that are first lessons in self-for-getfulness can begin at any age level; they continue for life and are Review for Religious always maturing. But they are not self-emptying. In self-forget-fulness there is still a self, with the focus shifting back and forth between self,and others. We are ourselves and we identify our-selves in loving the others, as loving the other. Self-emptying goes deeper still. Preliminary to it is our will-ingness to allow it to happen. "Let this attitude be in you which was also in Christ Jesus" (Ph 2:5). The self needs to accept self-emp-tying, such is the exquisite courtesy of God who always waits on the consent of our freedom. Still, the initiative is God's inviting us, gradually readying us, then asking us if we are ready. Our hearts must answer, not just our heads. The question: Where is your trea-sure; what do you really want? If our wholehearted response is: God, first of all, more than all, most of all, then the center of self changes. We are no longer just ourselves; our life "is hidden now with Christ, in God" (Col 3:3). This is where "we live and move and have our being" (Ac 17:28), and "I live now, not I . " (Ga 2:20). What was formerly said as pious slogan, then desired more or less seriously, now begins to be realized in our "mortal flesh." This is first experienced with the same sense of awkwardness that accompanies other beginnings. More than just strange, the loss of self is painful. Where is the I? What is happening? Even to ask these questions is to focus back on self. We might expect such a return to normal self-reflectiveness to feel familiar; it may not, and this will be even more disturbing. Who am I and who am I becoming? These questions may be natural enough, but they are no longer important or even relevant. We have to let them go, never mind the risk. This shift from I to the Other of God is as gradual as all other growth. For' a period of time, more or less prolonged, the self is sometimes operative and sometimes gone. We lose ourselves and then recover ourselves. Sometimes our activity will seem self-directed, self-reflective; at other times our focus will move to a self-forgetfulness that allows for a going beyond self. In all of this, though, we are free to say "yes" or "no." We cannot make it happen; that is beyond us. What is ours to do is to accept the divine action or refuse it. The latter occurs when we become afraid, clinging nervously to self; when we yield to the pseudosecurity of self-directed activity; when we try looking back over our shoulder to see ourselves. All of these are perfectly nat-ural, not supernatural; nor do they represent the level on which we are being invited to live. March-April 1996 Beha * Enclosed in the Mystery of yesus The simple truth is that we are no longer our own. We belong to another. "We are God's people, the sheep of God's flock" (Ps 100:3). It sounds fine in general! However, in all the particular-ity of our own experience it presents the most intriguing of mys-teries. Only through generous participation will we be able to share the new life being offered to us. While it is certainly true that we are experiencing a loss of self, it is even truer that we have never been more ourselves. This is who we really are: a creature, created in God's image, redeemed, sanctified and enabled to live divinely./~ are in Christ Jesus. Our truest self exists, lives, only in God, our beginning and our end. This is the self we are called to be "now and forever and forever." How does enclosure further this process of self-emptying? Sister Chiara Lainati states this without developing specifics. I believe the answer lies in the way that enclosure loosens the hold of the functional self and at the same time makes more possible a kind of primary centering on the other that is God. At- least that is its potential; like all of the other vows, enclosure provides an opportunity but does not automatically accomplish what it offers. Let us begin with the loosening of the grip of the functional self. Enclosure clearly limits personal geography so that we become very familiar with our surroundings; we are freer, then, to let go of our self-regarding, cautionary self without endangering life or limb. Contrast this with the degree of anxious concern that marks our traveling into strange space. In the same way, customary rela-tionships with familiar persons relax the ego's grip. We are freed from such self-regarding questions as: Who are we in this new relationship? How are we affected by it? Those are always self-regarding questions. At home and relaxed, we can be ourselves, forget ourselves, and be readied to go beyond ourselves. Similarly, within enclosure, simple, familiar work frees from those compet-itive, complex work situations that underline self-achievement, self-accomplishment, and the building up of the functional self. Put in a more positive way, by limiting one's field of vision, enclosure intensifies the seeing. Like a spotlight, it centers atten-tion on Another. This is illustrated by the inscription over many medieval monastery gates, "God alone," that was both a warning and a promise. Nothing else would be found within; self-seeking would find itself either badly malnourished, trying to satisfy itself on meager rations or starving to death; that was the warning. The promise: Beyond the self God was waiting. Review for Religious But only if the asceticism of an enclosed life was accepted graciously and lived faithfully. Included in the discipline: fidelity to the limits of physical geography, to intracommunity relation-ships and noncompetitive work. But none ,of these can be inter-preted in too materialistic a way. It is the heart that matters, the spirit that must be set free. Limited physical geography can imprison, circumscribed relationships can shrink one's world, and simple work can leave the mind dangerously idle. All such prac-tices can also become self-congratulatory, just as fasting can feed the ego. Each individual must discover for herself and then incorpo-rate into life the particular practices that will allow her to go deeper into the paschal mystery of Jesus. For example: Curiosity may need to be controlled though its object is legitimate; reading, even of a spiritual character, may need restriction lest the func-tional self become too active; even some self-satisfying forms of vocal or mental prayer may need to be abandoned. Examples could be multiplied; what they would have in common is the self-emptying that allows for a more complete immersion into the mystery of God. To the degree that this occurs, enclosure comes to partake in the paradox of the beatitudes. Emptiness will be filled with the fullness of God; being confined will bring greater freedom. Going apart will result in being still more a part; limited apostolic oppor-tunity will hasten the coming of the kingdom through a deepen-ing of the baptismal grace of being "buried with Christ" to "rise to new life with Christ" (Col 2:12). Relating enclosure to the paschal mystery of Jesus as Sister Chiara does permits new emphasis on its sacramental character. It has outward signs, but these point toward a deeper interior reality. But the new life within that is the exciting possibility of enclosure is not guaranteed. Nor is enclosure in the canonical sense of the term the only means. The same process of self-emp-tying for the sake of deeper immersion in the mystery of God can be accomplished in many different life circumstances. For example, fidelity to the limits of a geography circumscribed by poverty or illness, of family relationships stressed by contempo-rary nonvalues, of routine work that offers little room for self-congratulation-- all these can become occasions for self-emptying or for self-seeking. The choice is ours. Freely choosing to live ¯ within the limits of enclosure of whatever kind can be fruitful. March-April 1996 Beha ¯ Enclosed in the Mystery of yesus Though the limits and limitations of any kind of enclosure are real and should not be diluted, its basic purpose is positive: fuller participation in the mystery of God and growing freedom. When chosen as part of an ongoing vocational commitment, it becomes a way of waiting on God, of bringing forth new life in the church and the world, of growing in the freedom that is the power of Christ's redemptive death. Remaining in Jesus Father Herbert Schneider centers his presentation of enclo-sure around the gospel words "Remain in my love" (Jn 15:4). As he explains in his Commentary on the Poor Clare Constitutions, "Enclosure is the place of decision to remain with the Lord. The innermost enclosure is the space of the heart. In relationship to that, the enclosure of the building is a sign and a help" (p. ~14). Because enclosure is primarily a matter of the heart, Schneider suggests that a variety of interpretations may be given to its exter-nal form without changing its essential meaning. What is true is that enclosure has a value of itself and belongs to the basic ~ele-ments of contemplative life (p. 14). ~ Each life has a where, expressed on the geographic level when we say "My address is. ," or "I live in." and rephrased more significantly as ',IYm at home here" or "I no longer know where I am." In the latter two examples ~we begin to explore the way in which external space relates to the world of the psyche and, ulti-mately, to that of the spirit. In everyday parlance, we frequently use spatial metaphors to refer to internal realities: "personal space" and "individual direction." "Don't crowd me" can be meant lit-erally or it can be a graphic way of asking for more time, more space for personal considei, ation. Similarly, when we ask someone to show us the way, we may be hoping for directions on a map or direction fo~: life. As Schneider points out, enclosure is a spatial metaphor for the contemplative desire to remain with God. It is an incarna-tional reality, having both an external form and an interior real-ity. Either one without the other would be less than human, iust as an inanimate body is.only.a corpse and a disembodied soul seems conceivable only as a ghost (or an .angel). Viewed exter-nally, enclosure spells imprisonment, but for a contemplative spirit it provides necessary boundaries. Review for Religio~,s To live contemplatively requires space; that is the basic truth Schneider emphasizes. The external boundaries of enclosure pro-vide sacred space where the heart can find a home. This experi-ence of at-homeness is a familiar one, hopefully, to most of us. Although it may be difficult, even impossible to explain, we know there are places, circumstances, relationships in which we can relax, be ourselves, be at peace. We cher-ish these places, seek to find them, even try to create them. So where is a contemplative at home? Essentially, there is only one place, one circumstance, one relationship: in God. "Our hearts are restless till they rest in thee." Augustine knew from personal experience that we are at home nowhere else. Remain in me, dwell in me, abide in me--the same central truth is nuanced in a changing variety of translations. All use the imperative. We are told in the most direct of terms what we are to do: make our home in God. Though we might like to reduce this to a harmless figure of speech, the gospel command is insistent in its reality. In John's Gospel the details are spelled out with evangelical insistence: "Remain in my love" On 15:9) and "Remain in me, as I remain in you" On 15:4), Where can we find a lasting home? Only by living in love, .remaining there, abiding there. We like the idea, but we protest its impossibility. The world in which we live is not a very loving place:' Unfortunately, that misses the point completely. At issue is not the world around us as much as the world inside us. It is we, .at the very center of our being, who are to abide in love; it is our choice, our decision. No one, nothing outside, can evict us from this home. I may not wish to remain there; I may prefer to roam, seek-ing diversion anywhere I can find it. I am restlessly on the move, changing geography or just changing the subjecwI may look for diversion in the media or seek distraction in idle chatter. I may even allow my mind to slip down into dark valleys of personal gloom or climb the bright uneasy slopes of critical judgment. Any Although it may be difficult, even impossible to expla!n, we know there are places, circumstances, relationships in which we can relax, be ourselves, be at pe.ace. March-April 1996 Beba * Enclosed in the Mystery of yesus escape seems better than no escape. All such forms of selfishness seem to promise oases, but prove to be only deserted places. We need to remain where we are in the reality that is ours: present space, immediate situation, personal relationship, even when this is not comfortable, even when we might prefer to be some place., any place., else. Here is the geography of our real-ity, the enclosed space, that allows us to live in truth and in love. Only when we attempt to remain in this loving truth of pre-sent reality do we discover how much unreality pollutes our human situation. Where we try to live is too often only a castle in the air, a mirage. No wonder we cannot find much of a living there. We cannot dwell where we are not. So we must move on. If the direc-tion of our seeking moves us toward home, then we call our change conversion. The moving now becomes a pilgrimaging, a seeking for our true home. Pilgrims we will always be in this life since the only place where we can have a lasting abode is in our eternal dwelling place. But already in this life we do have a home in God, the God who dwells in the center of our hearts. This is where we must remain in the here and now, loving God, ourselves, others. Then we expe-rience ourselves at home. It is the remaining that often becomes problematic. Monastic enclosure is meant to offer a way of doing so. Time and space for God are its first promise. By setting boundaries on who comes and goes, it reserves a generous amount of time and space that Can be filled with the things of God. Again, what is offered is the opporttmity; what is necessary is faithfulness, not just to making use of the time that is available, but also to the specifics of our own personal vocation. What prayer is God inviting me to here, now? ~- At variant times we may find ourselves called to renewed litur-gical dedication or to a silent waiting on the Lord. Ours may be a prayer of pain or one of more generous service. There will be seasons when we will easily dedicate ourselves to thankfulness and other times when it will be all we can do to muster a decent amount of joy. What remains the same: Be faithful in prayer and you will find the Lord. And find yourselfl This can be even more problematic. People expect to find God (perhaps a "dream" God) within the enclo-sure; they may not be as acceptive or expective of the self they will discover as well. Limited space inevitably brings one face to Review for Religiot~s face with self. Lacking a place to hide, we must face ourselves and learn to love the self that we really are, not the self that we often pretend to be. It is the reality of ourselves just as we are presently that God loves, so we do not have an option about self-acceptance. Remaining true to ourselves opens the door to real love of neighbor. Again, we need to embrace others, not as we would like to remake them, but as they are in Christ Jesus. When we mistake our self-centered labeling of others as lovable/unlovable for the judgment of God, we are left in the darkness of untruth. We do not dare stay there. The only place we can remain is in the all-inclusive tenderness of God's love. Life within an enclosed space is meant to make possible such a love, providing opportunities for in-depth relationships that are tested in the crucible of close living, that endure over a lifetime and bear fruit for eternity. The hope of life enclosed, as Schrieider points out, is that it "leads to nearness and to the ability for relationships" (p. 14). This capacity for relationships extends beyond the monastery. Again it is a matter of the heart. In the bond that is God's life-giv-ing love, all are potentially one. This essential unity is lived out in a faith that makes enclosure as wide as divine mercy and as tender as infinite compassion. Again, no pious dream, but vital enough, to inspire a life of everyday sacrifice and self-giving for the building up of the Body of Christ (Ep 2:20)! This is enclosure's spaciousness, its redemptive power. Slowly, gradually, what was once.intellectual assent to faith's truths becomes experience. We are so united "in Jesus" that each person embracing truth and growing in freedom affects the life of all. We never act alone, because we never are alone; our soli-tude is peopled with all the people of God. When these experi-ences become personal, the contemplative no longer feels constrained by enclosure's limits, but, rather, finds fulfillment in remaining there~ at home in the heart of God. The gospel speaks of such remainirig as living in love and also as living in Jesus. There is a sense in which the two descriptions are redundant; to remain in love is to remain in Jesus. What the latter expression adds is helpful personalization along with the unbelievable promise of a certain reciprocity. We live, are, in Jesus and Jesus lives, is, in us On 14: 20). What does it mean to live in Jesus? For one thing, it requires us to remain in the word of God, allowing it to penetrate our March-Aplql 1996 Beha * Enclosed in the Mystery of yesus very being, shaping all our beliefs, our actions. It means living according to the holy gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ as every Christian professes to do. In practice, this may begin with a sim-ple willingness to takeup the Scriptures each day, remaining with them until the word of God sounds deep in our hearts, At each fresh reading of the gospel message, we ask: What is God's good news for me, today? What am I being called to say, to do, to refrain from saying, from doing? Over the course of time this abiding in the word of God begins to shape me, to shape us into gospel people. We become good news in our immediate environment, voices of encourage-ment, sources of strength even as we continue to grow in healthy awareness of our own weakness, for "when we are weak, then we are strong" (2 Co 12:10). As gospel people, we evangelize just in the living of our everyday lives. This remaining in the word of God that is an abiding in Jesus asks that more and more we live as Jesus lived. We think as Jesus thinks, "Let this mind be in you" (Ph 2:4), turning away from the preoccupation with self as well as the defensive criticism of oth-ers that often fill our thinking. Empowered by the Spirit of Jesus we speak as Jesus spoke, "with authority" (Mk 1:22), no longer threatened by fear or plagued by self-doubt. In Jesus, our lives teach, our touch heals. In Jesus we reach out to the poor, the sick, the troubled, the outcasts. The point of our remaining is not to recreate the past of Jesus' life in any literal sort of way. We are not first-century Palestinian Jews. For each of us, to live in Jesus requires fidelity to the cir-cumstances of'our lives. I need to ask: What is the mind of Jesus on my questions, the problematic situations of my days? What does Jesus say to the pleasure and pain that texture my days, the dailyness of my work, my leisure? In the silent spaciousness of the enclosure, these questions become, not pious, exercises, but literal necessities. I need to discover some specifics of an answer. Essential to such remaining in Jesus is the conviction that Jesus already remains in me. "Abide, dwell, live, in me, as I in you." How does Jesus live in me? In the constancy of faithful commitment, a covenant relationship begun in baptism and endur-ing through .all the circumstances of my life, unless repudiated by a definitive rejection on my part. Jesus lives my every activity; none are excluded as too ordinary, too human, too trivial. That is the truth revealed in the incarnation; it is the possibility of my Review for Religious baptism, but a reality that waits on the yes of my desire. Jesus enioys my joys, suffers in my pains, grows weary at the end of my days. His abiding presence remains a loving constant; only the unreali~ of sinfulness reduces my responsiveness. Unbelievably, we can and often do choose our own way rather than the way of Jesus. We temporize: not here, not yet. We assume control, seek-ing to fulfill ourselves. Fortunate the individuals who are open enough to realize such resistance and turn back. They find Jesus waiting, always there. Within enclosure the realization of our withdrawal, of the unsatisfying nature of our selfish pursuits, can come more quickly.There are fewer places to turn, more helps in returning and remaining faithful to Jesus living in us. Gradually, as Jesus lives more fully in us, we come to pray as he did: "Your kingdom come; your will be done" (Mt 6:10). This is where Jesus lived, where he remained: in the will of the Father. From the beginning of "I come to do your will" (Ps 40:8) to the end of "Not as I will but as you will" (Mk 32:36), Jesus had only one center, one place of peace, the will of the Father. If Jesus is to live ever more fully in us, we must stay in the same place. It must be at our every beginning so that it may be the end of all our endings. Sometimes it will be easy to accept God's will; at other times, costly. Ultimately, it will cost everything as we hand over our lives, with the same surrender of "into your hands" (Lk 23:46). This at the hour of death, but alsb in all the immediacy of today's letting go, for to live in Jesus is to die in daily surrender. Then eternity will be iust a continuation of that "remaining in Jesus" which has been the enclosed dwelling place of all our living. At each fresh reading of the gospel message we ask: What is God's good news for me, today? Conclusion Entering into enclosure is a matter of faith and hope. It is a lived expression of the belief that God is worth a whole life's seek-ing. Those who embrace the limits of enclosure find themselves freed for the paschal mystery of risen life through a going down into the valley of death-to-self and daily surrender. If they remain faithful, remaining in Jesus as Jesus remains in them, they will be March-April 1996 Beba ¯ Enclosed in the Mystery of Jesus transformed. No longe~: living for themselves, their lives "will be hidden now, with Christ, in God" (Col 3:3). This is what it means to live within the enclosure. This is to abide in the glory of that promise, "When Christ, who is your life, is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory" (Col 3:4). Who Am I? I am the woman tentatively touching the hem of Jesus' garment for healing, and having to tell what it is that ails me, and who and what have failed to heal me until now, all of Which was so much rubbish! I am the woman anxiously sweeping my floor in searchof the lost coin, the last coin I had to.live on. How happy I will be when I see it shining in the dust at my fee!! I am the Woman going into the temple putting that last coin of mine into the treasury. Then I will go home wondering whether it was wise of me to have relinquished the only treasure that I had! Bernadette McC~rrick RSM Review for Religiou.~ DANIEL J. HARRINGTON Biblical Contributions to a Theology of Aging This year I celebrate the twenty-fifth anniversary of my ordination to the Catholic priesthood in the New England province of the Society of Jesus. This year no one will be ordained a priest in our province. This year ten men will celebrate fifty years as priests, and fifteen men will observe their fiftieth anniversary as Jesuits. Priests and religious in the U.S.A. and Europe are aging, and so, too, religious life. As we grow older together, we surely need the intel-lectual and spiritual resources of our biblical tradition to help us along the way. Many people assume that aging and the elderly are major topics in the Bible. Perhaps they make this assump-tion because the early chapters of Genesis feature char-acters like Methuselah who live to great ages. Perhaps the reason is that the Bible, as an ancient and wise book, must have something important to say on these matters. But from a quantitative perspective aging and the elderly are not central concerns of the Bible. There is no lengthy biblical treatise.on aging and the elderly. Nor is there any uniform perspective in the rela-tively few texts that do deal with these topics. The more explicit treatments appear in the Old Testament. Old Testament Perspectives The people of the Old Testament lived in a traditional Daniel J. Harrington SJ is editor of New Testament Abstracts. His address is Weston Jesuit School of Theology; 3 Phillips Place; Cambridge, Massachusetts 02138. March-April 1996 Harrin~ton * Biblical Contributions to a Theology of Aging, The elderly were expected to be exemplars of wisdom and fear of the Lord. society in which the elderly were held in respect. Most biblical people did not reach the kind of old age that has become common at least in the U.S.A. and parts of Europe since 1950. And so in searching the Scriptures for wisdom on aging and the elderly we need to face from the start the differences between the Old Testament world and our own. We live in a society with little respect for tradition and social .status based on age, and with a great demandfor material productivity and accom-plishment. Moreover, our expanding life spans may be creating problems and possibilities that the bib-lical writers never imagined. Nevertheless, the Bible can contribute to developing a theology of aging today despite these obvious differences. Whatever one makes out of the life spans attributed to the patriarchs in Genesis 5 (930 years for Adam, 912 for Seth, 905 for Enosh, and so on), ordinary Israelites in the period covered in the his-torical books lived much shorter lives. It is safe to say that the lower classes lived between thirty years and fifty years (if they reached adulthood), that aris-tocrats lived between forty and sixty years, and that all regarded a life between seventy and eighty years as an elusive ideal. It was assumed that the elderly showed signs of aging (gray hair, beards for men), and began to experience physical infirmities. The com-mandment to honor one's parents in the Decalogue (Ex 20:12; Dt 5:16) was understood as applying primarily to adults and as urging them to care for their aging parents. It was regarded as a social norm and a divine command to respect older people: "You shall rise before the aged, and defer to the old; and you shall fear your God: 'I am the Lord'" (Lv 19:32). The elderly themselves were expected to be exemplars of wis-dom and fear of the Lord. Male and female elders had the task and privilege of handing on the social and religious tradit~ions. The critical treatments of elders in .lob and Qoheleth only serve to emphasize that in this traditional society the elderly were sup-posed to have an important place. As the testament-of-Jacob scene (see Gn 49) shows, the ideal was to die surrounded by many off-spring and to hand on property and land to one's children. The positive picture of old age in the Old Testament tradition is best stated in a block of random sayings in Sirach 25:3-6. Ben ' Sira, a wisdom teacher of Jerusalem around 200 B.C., concluded Review for Religious his lists of pleasant and hateful things (25:1-2) by expressing a loathing for "an old fool who commits adultery." By a thematic connection he then outlines some positive teachings about aging and the elderly: 3. If you gathered nothing in your youth, how can you find anything in our old age? 4. How attractive is sound judg-ment in the gray-haired, and for the aged to possess good counsel! 5. How attractive is wisdom in the aged, and under-standing and counsel in the venerable! 6. Rich experience is the crown of the aged, and their boast is the fear of the Lord. The three sayings (25:3, 4-5, 6) are only loosely connected by subject matter. The first saying (25:3) makes the point that the quality of one's old age--wise or foolish--grows out of the quality of one's youth. A foolish young person will probably grow into a foolish old person. The mere fact of old age does not work a drastic personal transformation. The second saying (25:4-5) lists the ideal characteristics of the elderly as sound judgment, good counsel, wisdom, and under-standing. These characteristics are basically synonyms; they all refer to the wisdom that is attractive in all people, especially in the elderly. The third saying (2 5:6) acknowledges the life experience of the elderly as a "crown" and holds out as the most important quality of the elderly the "fear of the Lord." Fear of the Lord is one of the chief themes in the biblical wisdom books and in Sirach in particular. It proceeds from an accurate assessment of who God is and who we are before God. It is not the fear that proceeds from anxiety and issues in avoidance or flight. Rather, it refers to the respect and awe that God deserves. That attitude of respect is the beginning of wisdom (see Si 1:14). From it, according to Ben Sira and the other sages, will flow whatever wisdom is necessary for finding one's way through the tests and trials of life. Wisdom and fear of the Lord are two sides of the same coin and express the positive ideal of aging in the Bible. The negative aspects of old age are best described in another wisdom book, Qoheleth (or Ecclesiastes). Here the focus is the decrepitude and death that are part of old age. In the final chap-ter (12) of his book, Qoheleth has clothed a depressing message in a series of exquisitely drawn images. The message is that old age means loss of pleasure, physical infirmity, fear, and death. Qoheleth's picture of the afterlife is shadowy at best: "The dead March-April 1996 Harrington ¯ Biblical Contributions to a Theology of Aging know nothing; they have no more reward, and even the memory of them is lost" (9:5). So for him the death that accompanies old age is all the more final. 1. Remember your creator in the days of your youth, before the days of trouble come, and the years draw near when you will say, "I have no pleasure in them"; 2. before the sun and the light and the moon and the stars are darkened and the clouds return with the rain; 3. in the day when the guards of the house tremble, and the strong men are bent, and the women who grind cease working because they are few, and those who look through the windows see dimly; 4. when the doors on the street are shut, and the sound of the grinding is low, and one rises up at the sound of a bird, and all the daughters of song are brought low; 5. when one is afraid of heights, and terrors are in the road; the almond tree blossoms, the grasshopper drags itself along and desire fails; because all must go to their eternal home, and the mourners will go about the streets; 6. before the silver cord is snapped, and the golden bowl is broken, and the pitcher is broken at.the fountain, and the wheel broken at the cis-tern, 7. and the dust returns to the earth as it was, and the breath returns to God who gave it. 8 Vanity of vanities, says the Teacher; all is vanity. The one addressed is urged to face the negative realities of old age ("days of trouble") when even the prospect of the years to come gives no pleasure and life seems to be dark and stormy (12:1-2). In a beautiful but disquieting set of images Qoheleth compares the process of aging to the decay of a house fallen into disrepair (12:3-4): loss of eyesight and hearing, loss of teeth with which to chew, and inability to sleep soundly. Then with other images he calls attention to the fear, the loss of desire, and the obsession with death that can be part of old age (12:5). Death is described with images of breaking the silver cord, the golden bowl, the pitcher, and the wheel (12:6). In death the body becomes dust and returns to the earth, while the breath "returns to God who gave it" (12:7), not to immortality or resurrection but at best to the shadowy existence described in 9:5. Death, like all of life (see 1:1- 11), is empty, mere "wind," without lasting substance (12:8). Old age as Qoheleth paints it with his marvelous images is painful and depressing. Young people should enjoy life while they can. The ideal of old age is fullness of wisdom and fear of the Lord (Si 25:3-6). The reality of old age may well involve bodily infir-mity, loss of physical and emotional powers, and fear; death is Review Jbr Religious inevitable (Qoh 12:1-8). In the Jewish tradition it is the duty of adult children to care for their aging parents. That obligation is clearly stated in the Decalogue: "Honor your father and your mother, so that your days may be long in the land that the Lord your God is giving you" (Ex 20:12; Dt 5:16). Starting from the commandment in the Decalogue, Ben Sira in Sirach 3:1-16 presents an instruction on the duties of adult children to their aging parents. After addressing his pupils as a father addresses a son (3:1), he gives some reasons why children should care for their parents: 1. Listen to me your father, O children; act accordingly, that you may be kept in safety. 2. For the Lord honors a father above his children, and he confirms a mother's right over her children. 3. Those who honor their father atone for sins, 4. and those who respect their mother are like those who lay up treasure. 5. Those who honor their father will have joy in their own children, and when they pray they will be heard. 6. Those who respect their father will have a long life, and those who honor their mother obey the Lord; 7. they will serve their parents as their masters. Caring for one's elderly parents conforms to the divine order of creation (3:2), atones for sins and merits spiritual treasures (3:3-4), gives good example to one's own children (3:5a), ensures that one's prayers will be heard (3:5b) and that one will live a long life (3:6a), and honors God (3:6b). Ben Sira (and all the biblical writers) lived in a society in which honor and shame were important values. How one appeared to others and in relation to them was very significant, far more so than in our modern individualistic cultures. Failure to honor one's parents brings a curse from them and disgrace in the eyes of others: 8. Honor your father by word and deed, that his blessing may come upon you. 9. For a father's blessing strengthens the houses of the children, but a mother's curse uproots their foundations. 10. Do not glorify yourself by dishon-oring your father, for your father's dishonor is no glory to you. 11. The glory of one's father is one's own glory, and it is a disgrace for children not to respect their mother. The final part (3:12-16) of Ben Sira's instruction gives par-ticular attention to the situation of caring for a parent who loses mental abilities ("even if his mind fails"). It recommends patience and fidelity and promises a reward from God: March-April 1996 Harrington ¯ Biblical Contributions to a Theology of Aging 12. My child, help your father in his old age, and do not grieve him as long as he lives; 13. even if his mind fails, be patient with him; because you have all your faculties do not despise him. 14. For kindness to a fathe~ will not be for-gotten, and will be credited to you against your sins; 15. in the day of your distress it will be remembered in your favor; like frost in fair weather, your sins will melt away. 16. Whoever forsakes a father is like a blasphemer, and whoever angers a mother is cursed by the Lord. Ben Sira's insistence on care for one's parents as leading to forgiveness of sins (3.'3, 14) is especially interesting in light of his own shadowy concepts of afterlife and his enthusiastic support for the Temple's system of sin-offerings and sacrifices. He appar-ently regarded faithful and patient service of one's parents as a privileged way of atoning for one's sins in this life. The three wisdom texts that we have looked at say much of what there is to say about old age and the elderly in the Old Testament. Indeed, they summarize most of the wisdom about these topics outside the Bible and into the present. Their con-tent would have been taken for granted by people in New Testament times. New Testament Perspectives The New Testament does not explicitly offer new and radically different teachings on aging and the elderly. What it does offer is an outline of spirituality that can help aging people and others to confront the reality of old age in faith and confidence. The Old Testament story of salvation began with God's call to Abraham in Genesis 12 and the promise to make of his descen-dants % great nation." We are told that Abraham was seventy-five years old when he departed from Haran (12:4). God's promise was then fulfilled through the birth of Isaac when "Abraham and Sarah were old, advanced in age" (18:11). Thus the history of God's people begins in an unlikely and improbable way--from a child born to a very old couple (21:5). According to Luke, the story of salvation through Jesus Christ began with the elderly couple Zechariah and Elizabeth and with the birth of John the Baptist to them. Likewise, the birth of Jesus is properly evaluated and proclaimed by Simeon and Anna in the Jerusalem Temple. These two figures represent the best features of Old Testament piety. Simeon is described as "righteous and Review for Religiotls devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel" (Lk 2:25). He is granted the privilege of seeing and proclaiming the newborn Messiah before his death: "Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace." (Lk 2:29). Anna also, at the age of eighty-four, culminates a long life of piety by praising God and speaking "about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem" (2:38). These two elderly representatives of God's people see in the child Jesus what the religious and political lead-ers of Israel failed to see in Jesus the adult. It is intriguing that elderly people--Abraham and Sarah-- begin the history of salvation according to Genesis, and that elderly people-~Zechariah and Elizabeth, and Simeon and Anna-- recognize clearly the new and definitive chapter in this history that began with the birth of Jesus. These elderly people exem-plify the wisdom and fear of the Lord that are the biblical ideals of old age. They speak the language of the Scriptures (especially Second Isaiah) to proclaim eschatological fullness in Jesus the Messiah. Their openness to God and trust in God allow God to use them as unlikely instruments in the history of salvation. The ways of God are very surprising. While Simeon and Anna provide positive models for elderly people who are serious about the surprising ways of God, we can-not disregard the negative aspects of old age so well described by Qoheleth. Although the New Testament does not deal explicitly with this topic, there are New Testament texts that speak elo-quently to us as we face the physical infirmities and fears that accompany old age. Like Ben Sira and Qoheleth, Jesus was a wisdom teacher. One of the earliest and most eloquent teachings we have from Jesus is his instruction about dealing with anxiety in Luke 12:22-31 (see Mt 6:25-34): 22. He said to his disciples, "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear. 23. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing. 24. Consider the ravens: they nei-ther sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds! 25. And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? 26. If then you are not able to do so small a thing as that, why do you worry about the rest? 27. Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. 28. But if God so clothes the Marcb-~lpril 1996 Ha~ngton ¯ Biblical Cont~butions to a Theology of Aging grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you-- you of little faith! 29. And do not keep striving for what you are to eat and what you are to drink, and do not keep worrying. 30. For it is the nations of the world that strive after all these things, and your Father knows that you need them. 31. Insteakl strive for his kingdom, and these things will be given ~o you as well. Though not directly addressed to elderly people, this instruc-tion concerns issues and questions that disturb elderly people especially: How long will I live? What will I eat? What about my health? What will I.wear? Jesus deals with these issues on two fronts. On the one hand, he exposes the futility of anxiety: It does not achieve anything positive (see 12:25-26). Simply telling peo-ple not to worry is not enough to combat anxiety. Jesus places before us some positive considerations about God's care for us and about God's kingdom as the goal of our lives. He first insists that life is more than food or clothing (12:23), and then urges us to consider how God feeds the birds (12:24) and clothes the lilies in splendor (12:27-28). If God so cares for birds and flowers, how much more does God care for us human beings. Jesus reminds us that God already knows what we need (12:30). The primary goal should be striving for God's kingdom, and everything else will fall into place. (12:31). There is great wisdom in this instruction, and it is particularly pertinent to elderly people. But sometimes anxiety turns into reality. Few of us leave this world without experiencing physical or emotional suffering. Here the apostle Paul has some eloquent things to say. Paul took over early Christian formulas of faith that describe Jesus' suffering and death as "for us" or "for our sins" (see Rm 3:25-26; 1 Co 11:24; 15:3). He himself used similar formulas as a matter of course (see Rm 5:6; 14:15; 2 Co 5:14,'21; Ga 1:4; 3:13). These expressions affirm that Jesus as God's servant (see Is 52:13-53:12) suffered and died on our behalf, and so made available to all--Jews and Gentiles alike--right relationship with God and the possibility of eternal salvation. We are saved through Christ's suffering. According to Paul, Christian life involves participation in Jesus' suffering and death as well as his resurrection: "We have been buried with him by baptism into death" (Rm 6:4). This shar-ing continues after baptism: "For just as the sufferings of Christ are abundant for us, so also our consolation is abundant through Christ" (2 Co 1:5). Elsewhere Paul says that we always carry "in Review for Religious the body the death of Jesus" (2 Co 4:10). Paul's ideal for himself and for every Christian is to be "conformed" to Christ; that is, to take on the very "shape" (morphe) of Christ: "I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his suf-ferings by becoming like him in his death" (Ph 3:10). For mil-lions of suffering Christians, identification with Christ and participation in his sufferings have provided meaning and comfort in the midst of suffer-ing, and still do. In the Deuteropauline letter to the Colossians the theme of sharing Christ's suf-ferings takes an unusual turn: "In my flesh I am completing what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church" (Col 1:24). This cannot mean that there is something deficient in the rec-onciliation brought about by Jesus' death and resurrection. The whole New Testament and Colossians 1:19-20 in particular stress the sufficiency of Jesus' sacrificial death. What then does Paul's suffering fill up? The key expression is "Christ's afflictions," or, more accurately, the "tribu-lations (or, woes) of the Messiah." According to contemporary Jewish texts (I Enoch 47:1-4; 2 Baruch 30:2) God has set a limit to the tribulations associated with the Messiah's coming. The state-ment in Colossians 1:24 applies Paul's sufferings to that fixed amount of suffering that must occur before God's kingdom arrives in its fullness. Thus Paul's suffering shortens the time before the fullness of God's kingdom (see Mk 13:20) and contributes to the faster vindication of God's church. This text, which has been a great inspiration to suffering (elderly or not) people, needs to be understood in its proper theological and historical context. Other Pauline texts provide important advice for elderly per-sons (and others) who suffer. In 2 Corinthians 12, Paul, in answer-ing the critics of his ministry as an apostle, boasts about his weaknesses rather than about his strengths and accomplishments. He does so on the basis of what the Lord said to him: "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Co 12:9). In a world that associates power with strength, Paul reminds us that the true power of God is manifested most bril-liantly in the weak---as was the case with Abraham and Sarah, and with Simeon and Anna. Few of us leave this world without experiencing physical or emotional suffering. March-April 1996 Harrington ¯ Biblical Contributio~.~n~.to~ Tb__eo,~lo.~f~A.~n,.g' Eternal life for Christians, according to Paul, begins with baptism, since eternal life comes from participating in Jesus' death and resurrection (see Rm 6:1-11). Therefore death and sin no longer exercise absolute dominion over us. We are already living our eternal life. It does not begin at the moment of our death. The line between physical life and physical death is no longer de

Issue 49.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1990. ; R~\'u!w ~:~R Rt~u~aot!s ( ISSN OO34-639X ) is published bi-monlhly ai St. La~uis University by the Mis-souri Provinc¢ Edu~.'ational Inslilulc of the Soci,.Zly of.lcsus: Editorial Office; 36OI Lind¢ll Blvd. Rm. 4214: St. Louis. MO 63 IOg-3393. S¢cond-class postage2 paid at St. U~uis MO. Single copies $3.50. Subscriptions: United Stal¢.~ $15.00 I'or one .,,'ear: $2g.00 for two years. Olher countries: US $20.00 for on~ .vear~ if airmail. US $35.00 per )'car. For subscription orders or chan~¢ of address. write: Rl~\'ll~\V i:tm R~il.l(i~vs; F'.O. Box riO'70; Duluth. MN 55gO6. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to R~:\'l~:w vor R~:l.~{:l~nls; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. I)avid L. Fleming, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.,J. ,Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Editor Contrib.ting Editor Advisor\" Board David J. Hassel, S.J. Sean Sammon, F.M.S. Mary Margaret Johanning, S.S.N.D. Wendy Wright, Ph.D. Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B. Jan.ar\'lFebrttarv 1990 Volume 49 N.mber I Manuscripts, Imoks fiw review and correspondence with the editor sho(dd be sent to w~a R~:u~;~o~s: 361)1 I,indell Blvd.: St. I,ouis. MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the deparlmenl "Canonical Connsel'" should he addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.°I:B.: 1735 I,eRoy Ave.: Berkeley, CA 94709-1193. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from RF:\'u~w voa RF:L~;~US; 3601 I,indell Blvd.; St. I,ouis, MO 63108-3393. "'O1.11 of prinl" issues are availahle from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.: Ann Arbor. MI 481116, A major portion of each issne is also availahle on cassette recordings as a service for Ihe visually impaired. \\'rile Io the Xavier Sociely hw Ihe Blind; 154 Easl 23rd Street: New York, NY I0010. Review for Religious Volume 49, 1990 Editorial Offices 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428 Saint Louis. Missouri 63108-3393 David L. Fleming, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors " REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is published in January, March, May, July, Septem-ber, and November on the twentieth of the month. It is indexed in the Catholic Periodical and Literature Index and in Book Review Index. A microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is available from University Mi-crofilms International; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Copyright© 1990 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. A major portion of each issue of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is also regu-larly available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually im-paired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. PRISMS. As we begin our forty-ninth volume, there are some additional names found on our inside cover editorial masthead. Although our readers may be familiar with the members of our Advisory Board from their writings or from conferences or workshops, I want to take this opportunity to intro-duce each one of them. Father David Hassel, S.J., with his doctorate in philosophy from St. Louis University, has taught university courses in the philosophy of hu-man nature, God, Augustine, and secularization for twenty-seven years. He has written four books on prayer (Paulist Press) and two on Chris-tian philosophy of education and of love (Loyola University Press), along with some nine articles for REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. He currently is a writer-in- residence at Loyola University in Chicago, Illinois. Sister Mary Margaret Johanning, S.S.N.D., is presently chancellor of the Jefferson City, Missouri diocese. From 1977 to 1987, she served in Rome as general superior of the School Sisters of Notre Dame, and from 1971 to 1977 as provincial councilor of the St. Louis province. With her doctorate in theology from Marquette University, she has lec-tured on topics of theology and spirituality, and has been involved in giv-ing retreats and spiritual direction. Brother Sean D. Sammon, F.M.S., is provincial of the Poughkeep-sie Province of the Marist Brothers and also serves as president of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men. He worked for nine years at the House of Affirmation, serving most recently as Clinical Director. With three books and a number of articles published, his most recent contri-bution is Alcoholism's Children: ACoAs in Priesthood and Religious Life (Alba House). With his doctorate in psychology from Fordham Univer-sity, he lectures on topics of adult development among religious and priests, sexuality and intimacy, and addictive behavior. Wendy M. Wright, with her doctorate in theology from the Gradu-ate Theological Union in Berkeley, currently teaches theology at Creighton University. She has taught at University of California at Santa Barbara, Weston School of Theology in Cambridge, and Univeisity of Nebraska at Omaha in the fields of history of Christian spirituality, his-tory of religions, and family spirituality. Among her publications are Sa-cred Dwelling: A Spirituality of Family Life; Francis de Sales and Jane de Chantah Letters of Spiritual Direction (with Joseph F. Power); and 3 4 / Review for Religious, January-February 1990 Bond of Perfection: Jane de Chantal and Francis de Sales. She and her husband, Roger Bergman, who is director of New Covenant Justice and Peace Center, have three children and live in Omaha, Nebraska. Sister Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B., holds a master's degree in clini-cal psychology from Loyola University of Chicago and is a licensed psy-chologist in the state of Illinois. She has worked as a school psycholo-gist, university campus minister, and for twelve years as staff member and co-director of the Institute of Spiritual Leadership of Loyola Univer-sity, an international program training men and women for spiritual lead-ership as companions for those on the spiritual journey. She has offered workshops throughout the United States and Canada as well as in Japan, Hong Kong, and Indonesia. As a member of the Benedictine Sisters of St. Scholastica Priory, Chicago, she has served as first councilor and is presently community secretary and formation directress, a position she also held for six years in the 1970s. As editor, I am delighted to welcome these members of our Advi-sory Board. With their broad experience, learning, and publishing skills, they give promise of providing Rzvmw FOR Rzt.~c~ot~s with future direc-tion and creative imagination as we look toward the Church of the third millennium. David L. Fleming, S.J. Challenges Facing Active Religious Today Sally A. Kenel, D.W. Sister Sally Kenel, D.W., can be addressed at St. John's University; 300 Howard Avenue; Staten Island, New York 10301. Iduring the summer of 1988 I participated in the General Chapter of the congregation to which I belong, the Daughters of Wisdom. Since we are an international group with our generalate in Rome, the meeting was held at a large house specially equipped for chapters in the lake district out-side of Rome. There were many adjustments to make: some as basic as climate, language, and food. However, it was only after we had been meeting for about a week that I realized that even more significant than these was the overall adjustment in lifestyle. We followed a strict schedule which centered around our Eucharis-tic celebration and our Marian prayer in common. The casa at which we met was quite far from the nearest town. Moreover, the doors of the house as well as the gates of the property were locked at 9:30 P.M. and reopened at 8:00 A.M. On the several occasions I absented myself from the common meals, questions about the state of my health indicated that I had been "missed." In my initial processing of this experience, I com-pared being at the general chapter to being in the novitiate. However, as our discussions at the chapter centered on the mission of the congregation and the lifestyle of a religious today, I realized that even as we talked about community life in an active religious congrega-tion, we were living a monastic lifestyle. This insight served as the cata-lyst for this article in that it stimulated my reflections on the active as opposed to monastic lifestyle, and the challenges facing post-Vatican II active religious. Review for Religious, January-February 1990 The Active Religious Life Almost twenty five years ago, the Second Vatican Council in its "De-cree on the Appropriate Renewal of Religious Life," stated that such a renewal involved two simultaneous processes: "(1) a continuous return to the sources of all Christian life and to the original inspiration behind a given community and (2) an adjustment of the community to the changed conditions of the times."~ In the years which followed, our con-gregation, like so many others, took these words of Vatican II to heart and with much prayer, soul searching, discussion, and, at times, painful confrontation, engaged in the renewal of our congregation. The result of our efforts was the declaration that for us mission is primary. In other words, on the continuum which runs from contemplative to active relig-ious lifel we clearly situated ourselves near the latter. In so placing ourselves, we joined with other congregations in liv-ing religious life in a way that George Aschenbrenner has distinguished from contemplative life in six main ways. (!) Ministry is the primary de-termining influence for the community. This being the case, then (2) a certain flexibility is necessary in order to be able to deal with the de-mands' of ministerial activities. However, such a life may become scat-tered; therefore, (3) discernment is needed if religious are to find, be with, and serve God through their works. Since the purpose of the con-gregation is to be sent in mission, (4) mobility and availability are key elements of an active spirituality, and correspondingly (5) an apostolic form of prayer should characterize active religious. Finally, (6) the com-munity must be marked by a unity which goes beyond physical presence to a unity of mind and heart.2 Although active congregations have done much to make these char-acteristics vital dimensions of their lives, certain of these areas continue to challenge. Frequently the challenge they offer is a subtle one. While religious are engaged in evaluating their ministries and strategizing to in-culturate the gospel message and values, other aspects of active religious life may be neglected. It is these areas which continue to challenge re-ligious, and at times provide the fodder for those who endorse a return to a more traditional lifestyle. Assuming that participation in the mission of the Church is primary for active religious, and that our efforts at renewal in this area are con-stant, a whole variety of questions arise. For example, when we focus our efforts on mission what happens to community? Does it remain one of the marks of religious life, or do we abandon it and become secular institutes? As our communities become smaller and our works less insti- Challenges Facing Religious Life / 7 tutionalized what happens to "local superiors"? If they are no longer needed as administrators, who fills the mentoring roles which they tra-ditionally held? What is an apostolic prayer life? Can unity of heart and mind extend beyond the borders of a particular country or culture to form an international bond? The fact that these questions are spin-offs from the primary question of ministry in no way diminishes our responsibility to respond. As ac-tive religious we need to grapple with these issues to see where the Spirit is leading us today. It is to reflection on these questions that we now turn. The Challenge of Community Living The Vatican document, "Essential Elements in the Church's Teach-ing. on Religious Life," states that: The style of community life itself will relate to the form of apostolate for which the members have responsibility and to the culture and soci-ety in which this responsibility is accepted. The form of apostolate may well decide the size and location of a community, its particular needs, its standards of living.3 This statement clearly indicates that a community lifestyle is the norm for religious, and recognizes that local communities can and must take a form appropriate to the needs of the apostolate. As simple as this may seem, any one who tries to live in community with people who engage in a variety of ministries knows that the reality is quite complex. People come to community with a variety of expectations. Some use the family as the model for community life. Although the sharing of re-sources that community life demands may well be similar to that of a fam-ily, there are also differences. Some people expect to find in community the security of a parent-child relationship where they may relax in de-pendence or dominance depending on their personalities. Others ap-proach community as a sorority or fraternity and expect that community will provide them with a group of congenial companions with whom they may spend their free time. Others look on community as a shelter, a place to come home to after a hard day's work. Sitting quietly in front of the TV is their idea of a pleasant evening together. For still others, a "bed and breakfast" model of community is the ideal. Ministerial ob-ligations, dinners with friends, shopping, visits to a health club, and so forth, indiscriminately keep a person busy every evening. By so limit-ing the time spent with the group, a person is able to avoid the give-and-take which life in community ordinarily demands. At least in part, all these expectations show a response to the com~ Review for Religious, January-February 1990 mon life that was the norm for religious communities prior to Vatican II. At that point in time, a good community was one whose main attrib-utes were regularity, order, and discipline. Vestiges of this ideal remain and constitute the basis for the expectations of some religious today. On the other hand, there are religious whose expectations of community have their roots in reactions against a common life. The result is a ten-sion which is expressed by clusters of people around the pole of group orientation in opposition to clusters of people around the pole of indi-vidual orientation. Attempts to address such tension on the practical level has led to such practices as interviewing prospective members of a local community in order to examine mutual compatibility. Although such testing may lead to a more peaceful life together, it fails to address the basic issue of the value of community itself. Why do active religious live in community? One way to respond to this question is rooted in Johannes Metz's understanding of religious congregations as "the institutionalized form of a dangerous memory within the Church."4 The community life of an active religious congregation, then, recalls the enthusiastic union of the early Christians described in the Acts of the Apostles: "The community of believers was of one heart and mind, and no one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they had everything in common" (Ac 3:32). These early Christians had grasped the notion that God is community, the Trinity, and gave witness to this belief through their life together. Thus, the community life of active re-ligious today serves as a protest against the excessive individualism in today's society and bears witness to the fact that to be is to be in rela-tionship. Reflection on the value of community does not immediately solve all the problems connected with the living of community today. However, it does provide the context in which religious can explore the particulars of community life. By locating the value of community in witness, the notion of community for the mission of the Church is reaffirmed. Thus, the challenge for active religious is to find ways of being together in com-munity which facilitate the ministries of each member, and at the same time proclaim the interdependence of all people. The Challenge o1' Mentoring Several years ago when I was a member of our community's forma-tion team we spent a great deal of time reflecting on where to send our ne~,ly professed sisters. Although ministerial opportunity was our pri-mary consideration, we quickly became involved in the question of vi-able community situations. Where were there sisters who would be open Challenges Facing Religious Life to sharing their lives with the temporary professed whose experiences were so different? Where were there sisters who could and would serve as mentors for these women? In general, we found a reluctance on the part of older sisters to become involved in a mentoring relationship. In pre-Vatican II days this problem did not exist. The local superior was responsible for all the sisters in her house, and she was expected to pay particular attention to the integration of the temporary professed into the community. Thus, the formation begun in the postulate, novitiate, and juniorate was continued by the superior in the house to which a sis-ter was assigned. In addition, regular personal meetings with the supe-rior often served as spiritual direction. Today active communities are smaller and less structured. Often, the group is not uniformly involved in a particular ministry. Joined to the emphasis on the personal respon-sibi! ity of each member, these factors have contributed to the demise of the role of local superior. In their place we find the "communicator" or "contact person," that is, someone within the group who accepts re-sponsibility for communication with the provincial leadership, and so forth. However successful such communication may be, this redefinition of task may leave the mentoring role which the superior formerly filled empty. Such a lack not only deprives new members of receiving the tra-ditions of the community, but also raises the question of whether the adult crisis which Erikson describes as Generativity vs. Stagnation is be-ing successfully negotiated. Although some may claim that their minis-try outside the congregation commits them to involvement in establish-ing and guiding the next generation of Christians, the responsibility of passing on the charism of their particular group cannot be ignored. However, some will argue that the religious life of today bears little resemblance to the life to which they committed themselves. They con-tend that they cannot be expected to pass on the tradition because they themselves do not know what has happened to it. Take daily Eucharist, for example. They consider it a must, and yet newer members of the com-munity do not share the depth of their commitment in this area. How can they be expected to pass on the tradition to those whose values are judged not only different but inferior? What these people fail to realize is that generativity demands the pass-ing on of the tradition, in this case the charism, and not one particular time bound expression of it. Their nostalgic reminiscences of the "good old days" when community members did everything together are but signs of their own stagnation. The challenge for active religious is to re- Review for Religious, January-February 1990 alize that the process of renewal set in motion by Vatican II is an ongo-ing one. It demands the frequent return to the charism, and the contin-ual search for appropriate expressions of the charism. The refusal of men-toring roles in a congregation may indicate that it is time to examine the charism again with the hope of identifying its core values so that these values in turn may be passed on. It may also be time to view the charism as a gift to the whole Church, not merely to a particular congregation. This opens ihe way to redefining membership to include associate mem-bership and other forms of affiliation with a congregation. These new forms of membership in turn raise anew the challenge of mentorship. The Challenge of an Apostolic Prayer Life The need for prayer in the life of a religious is often likened to a car's need for gasoline. Unless one gets the tank filled periodically, the car will not continue to run. One immediately makes the connection with the need for religious to take time to become filled with God. Today's re-ligious seem very much aware of the need for periodic retreats and pro-longed periods of prayer. However, another automobile analogy can be made. It is not only gasoline in the engine that keeps a car running. While the car is going the battery must be constantly recharged by the ¯ alternator or else the car cannot continue to run. Thus, besides setting aside more extended periods for prayer, an apostolic prayer life calls for continual prayer in the midst of activity. But, how does one "pray always?" (Lk 18: I). The temptation is to claim that one's work is prayer. However, in such a simple equation, both work and prayer lose something. A brief reflection on Eucharist may help to bring the relationship between prayer and work into sharper focus for the active religious. Eucharist involves three basic movements: thanksgiving, memorial, and invocation. At Eucharist we give thanks to God in Jesus' name for all the good things--be they as general as creation, and redemption, or as particular as specific moments of grace. We remember the death and resurrection of Jesus, the "dangerous memory" par excellence, a mem-ory which promises freedom for all. We implore the Holy Spirit to make our gifts holy and to transform ourselves as well. Notice, however, that this is not the prayer of an individual, but rather we thank; we remem-ber; we invoke. The Eucharist teaches us that prayer is not merely a dia-logue between a person and God, but rather that Christian prayer is com-munal. Moreover, Eucharist does not end when one leaves the church. As the poe~n by R. Voight makes clear, in our work we do Eucharist. Con- Challenges Facing Religious Life sider, one verse: He was old, tired, and sweaty, pushing his homemade cart down the alley, stopping now and then to poke around in somebody's garbage. I wanted to tell him about Eucharist But the look in his eyes the despair on his face, the hopelessness of somebody else's life in his cart, Told me to forget it. So I smiled, said "Hi"--and gave him Eucharist.5 This brief reflection on Eucharist points to the dynamic relation be-tween prayer and work in the life of the active religious. Prayer as en-gagement in contemplation is not an individual activity, but rather, no matter how personal, is also communal. Our communion with Christ is a communion with the Body of Christ as well. This sense of communion finds expression in prayer not only as the context out of which one prays but also in the form of prayers of petition, and through such expression communion is enhanced. In turn, this sense of unity with others demands expression in our ministry. Our union with Christ urges us to a life of service. Thus, an apostolic prayer life does not exist alone, but only in conjunction with a prayerful apostolate. The challenge of an apostolic prayer life is to develop a prayerful approach to ministry so that prayer and work are viewed as different forms which our efforts towards true communion take. The Challenge of Internationality We live in a time when distances between places have been reduced drastically by improved means of communication and transportation. We live in a time when the condition of the very planet on which we live challenges us to recognize our interdepeiadence. Simultaneously, how-ever, today's religious are encouraged to adapt their style of life to the demands of their specific apostolates and to the culture in which they live. In trying to make such adaptations, religious tend to emphasize the needs and demands of the local church and the local community. Al-though such a focus is important, at times it can be isolating, and can raise the question of what it means to belong to a larger group, be it prov-ince or international congregation. In other words, if we have more in common with other religiou~ living and working in similar situations than we have with other members of our own congregation, why belong to Review for Religious, January-February 1990 an international congregation? Responses to questions such as these hang on the value which one places on the charism of a congregation. Is the charism an adequate ground on which bonds strong enough to extend across continents yet flex-ible enough to allow for cultural diversity can be built? Or to put it an-other way, does sharing the past, being a community of memory, so ori-ent us that we engage in the here and now not only with enthusiasm, but with the realization that our here and now is but a part of the total pres-ent reality? Moreover, does being a community of memory so orient us towards the future that we face it with hope not only for ourselves, but for all people, for the world? The potential of the charism of a congregation to enable bonding needs to be developed and made concrete. In recent years such develop-ment of the charism in active congregations often has taken the form of a mission statement. However, the mission statement itself can remain purely theoretical unless we begin to share the stories of how this state-ment is enfleshed in the specific ministries of religious in different cul-tures. Without such interpersonal and self-disclosing communication, true bonding within the congregation will not occur~ and the potential for challenge and affirmation on an international level will remain unde-veloped. International bonding built on the principles of interpersonal and self-disclosing communication stands in stark contrast to a hierarchical model of bonding. In the former, the general administration is charged with fa-cilitating such communication as opposed to serving as the bond of unity in the congregation. Each member shares the responsibility of preserv-ing and strengthening the bonds of congregational unity. Furthermore, each member shares the responsibility for creating new bonds through her sharing of the concrete form the charism takes in her life and minis-try. In other words, the local community and the local church need not become less important to the individual religious, but each one must come to the recognition that there are other local communities and other local churches where needs and attempts to meet these needs are quite different from one's own. Moreover, the full meaning of one's local church and local community can be found only in relationship to the uni-versal Church and the congregation. A religious congregation as a visible, identifiable group of people within the Church serves as a model of the Church. A non-hierarchical understanding of the internationality of a congregation can function as a symbol of grace for the larger community. As such it refuses to allow Challenges Facing Religious Life the universal Church to be understood as the Vatican, but recalls the Pauline understanding of universal Church as the communion of local churches. At the same time, the internationality of a congregation refuses to allow a local church to consider itself an autonomous subdivision of the universal Church. The internationality of a religious congregation calls the Church to recognize that it is at once local and universal. However, a religious congregation can function as a symbol of grace for the Church in this way only if it itself is truly international. In other words, the challenge of internationality for a religious congregation is much the same as it is for the Church--to realize that it is at once local and universal. On the practical level, this becomes the challenge of es-tablishing, maintaining, and enhancing personal, self-disclosing commu-nications. Conclusions If the chosen priority of a religious congregation is the mission of the Church, then this priority will have ramifications on all of life. The challenges facing active religious today flow from this primary commit-ment to ministry. Moreover, the challenges which we examined in this article all seem to have a common thread--that of recognizing oneself as living in relationship. Whether one examines the quality of local com-munity life, the continuation of a congregation and its values through men-toring, apostolic prayer, or internationality, the central challenge is to a life of interdependence. In other words, the ideal of the "rugged indi-vidual" has no place in active religious life. Since many of us have cul-tivated this ideal in order to survive the past two decades in religious life, the challenge to live interdependently is one that strikes at the heart of our hard won "freedom." On the other hand, interdependent living and dependent living are not synonymous. Interdependency demands that we take responsibility for our own lives and at the same time realize that we are part of an intricate web of relationships. Insofar as religious are able to meet the challenges of interdepend-ent living, they in turn will become challenges to others--to the Church, to the nationalistic spirit of governments, to a consumerism which has no regard for non-human life, or the environment. In this way, active religious will serve as symbols of grace, reflecting to all the community of God. NOTES "Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of Religious Life," in The Documents of Vati- Review for Religious, January-February 1990 can H, ed. Walter M, Abbott, S.J., p. 468, no. 2. 2 See "Active and Monastic: Two Apostolic Lifestyles," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Wol. 45 (1986): pp. 653-668. 3 Origins 13 (1983) p. 136, no. 21. 4 Followers of Christ (New York: Paulist Press, 1978), p. 12. 5 As quoted in Morton T. Kelsey, The Other Side of Silence (Paulist Press, 1976), pp. 276-278. The Challenge God, can you wrap your arms around me, hold me tight and tell me that you love me? Jesus, as my lover, can you really do that? Spirit, can you fulfill the need I feel . . . to be touched, squeezed, loved? Make love to me, God, can you do that? Whisper in my ear, Jesus, can you? Tell me You want me as well, Spirit, is that possible? Am I not to be human anymore? Am I not to feel desire? Am I not to remember or imagine? I imagine his pain as the nail broke through his flesh. I remember the words he screamed at his death. My heart is full of desire for him. I am human--so was he. He came to gather us for his Father. He wants me. He whispers to me everyday and makes love to me with every breath I take. He touches me, squeezes me, loves me. Yes, Lord. My God. I believe. I feel your arms engulf me-- Hold me tighter, Lord. I love you, too. Elaine Laws A.S.C. Affiliate Lay Volunteer Liberia, W. Africa Enlarging Perspectives for the Future of Religious Life Shaun McCarty, S.T. Father Shaun McCarty, S.T., teaches in the Washington Theological Union and is a staff member of the Shalem Institute for Spiritual Formation. His address is Holy Trinity Mission Seminary; 9001 New Hampshire Avenue; Silver Spring, Maryland 20903. ~l~s we approach the last decade of this century, religious find themselves deeply concerned with and uncertain about the future. The crisis facing religious (mainly in the United States and in western Europe) is marked by a decrease in vocations, an increase in median age, and a growing com-plexity of ministerial needs. Many are experiencing either sadness, fear, anger, helplessness, hopelessness, or some combination of the above! The causality (which I would not pursue at length here) is complex. In addition to a history of change that has marked the evolution of reli-gious life, there are theological reasons for the present crisis such as Vati-can II's accent on the universal call to holiness; pastoral ones such as ex-panding possibilities for dedicated service for laity; and cultural ones such as delayed maturation leading to difficulties for young people in mak-ing lasting commitments. People have different ways of dealing with crisis. One can choose (a) to deny or ignore it with a cockeyed optimism; (b) to blame it on the wrong causes or people; (c) to hanker after "the good old days" (that are yet to come!); (d) to become immobilized and depressed by a fatalis-tic cynicism; (e) to engage in narcissistic introspection and breast-beating; (f) myopically to limit one's perspective or to focus on the wrong issues. None of these alternatives is constructive. My contention is that religious life is in transition and that we need 15 Review for Religious, January-February 1990 a strategy for living in a transitional period. As a first step in developing such a strategy, I would suggest enlarging one's perspectives so as to face the future with hope. By "perspective" I mean the scope or hori-zon of a person's or a group's vision whereby one is enabled to perceive context, allowing for a sense of proportion and within which one can fo-cus attention and energy. Context enables one to see something in its re-lationship rather than in isolation. This, in turn, allows it to be seen in proportion to its real significance. Within proper context, one can then choose to focus on the right issues. It is also my contention that, though painful, crisis bears potential for growth. "Crisis" literally means being presented with a situation de-manding decision. The word for discernment in Greek is diakrisis, that is, "a sorting out." It is that "sorting out" that I would like to address. As all Christians, religious have a responsibility to discern the signs of the times in the process of making decisions for the future in a spirit of hope for the coming of the kingdom. So the question is: What help is available in reading the signs of the times that are pertinent to what has always been a changing shape of religious life? My task is to try to provide some perspectives that might enable a hopeful reflection on what we can expect and prudent decisions about what we can do to help shape the future. I will attempt neither to predict nor will I presume to play the prophet. Rather, I will explore some mean-ings and pose some questions that might hopefully expand and deepen perspectives in sharing responsibility for the future. Some Meaning to Broaden Perspectives I would suggest five key areas where broader and deeper perspec-tives might be profitably pursued. They include: (I) the primacy of the kingdom (or reign) of God; (2) a mature grasp of and love for the Church as "Catholic"; (3) membership in interdependent religious community; (4) different approaches to and notions of the future; (5) the cultivation of a mature sense of Christian hope and trust. The Primacy of the Kingdom (or Reign) of God Kingdom (or reign~ of God is a symbol used to convey the mystery of the corporate vision or dream for the future that energizes Christians for involvement in the present. It is the large perspective that embraces all the others. It summarizes the mission of Christ now shared by all. God's reign is already breaking through and manifest by those liv-ing the beatitudes which results in fruits of the Spirit such as peace, jus-tice, mercy, forgiveness, reconciliation, unity, and love. Obviously these Enlarging Perspectives values of the kingdom are not the exclusive property of any group within the Church or even of the Church itself. A Mature Grasp of and Love for the Church as "Catholic" The Church, though not co-terminus with the kingdom, is a commu-nity of disciples called together in Christ to be a visible body united in belief, discipline and worship in service of the kingdom. It is important to remember that the beginnings of the Church (which we continue to remember) were marked by "upper room experiences" where Jesus washed feet as a prelude to Eucharist and where the Holy Spirit descended upon disciples who had gathered in fear and confusion to be empowered for the mission of proclaiming the Good News of the kingdom. "Catholic" is a designation that indicates the universality of the Church's scope; its quest for unity, yet respect for differences; its inclu-siveness of peoples and cultures; and its ability to recognize and to re-spect kingdom values wherever they are found. The term "Catholic" is opposed to insular, parochial, provincial, or sectarian attitudes. A mature love for the Church means accepting her in both her graced and flawed condition; being faithful to her in attempting to personalize the institution as others experience Church in our ministry to them; and working prophetically from within the perennial tasks of renewal (begin-ning with ourselves!). Membership in Interdependent Religious Community Religious life is an ecclesial way of living a vowed Christian life in community for the sake of the kingdom. It is both charism and institu-tion. As charism, it is a gift of the Spirit to the Church through the in-spiration of a founder. As institution, it is structured according to a rule of life or constitution approved by the Church. Though both charism and institution are important elements to be kept in poised tension, I would suggest that sharing in the charism is morevital to membership than par-ticipation in its institutional structures. It is even a deeper bond than af-fective ties with other members. By membership I mean how, where, and when one experiences a sense of bel6nging to or connectedness within a group. I would also suggest that today, more than ever before, members and communities are called to greater interdependence both within the com-munity and with other groups. By "interdependence," I mean mutual dependency in co-responsible fashion as opposed to an unhealthy inde-pendence or dependence. Review for Religious, January-February 1990 Different Approaches to and Attitudes towards the Future "Future" refers to that aspect of human history not yet fully here except in seed and about which little can be known with certainty, but for which there is responsibility for human choices in the present. There are different attitudes about the future. Some hold that history continues to repeat itself and that managing the future means knowing the past. Others think changes are going to be so radically different in the future that it is senseless to look at the past. There are others still who feel that, as the present has emerged in continuity with the past, so the future will be both creative and new, but will emerge in continuity with the past and present. I believe the latter is more in keeping with the notion of Divine Provi-dence. As a matter of fact, the Latin root of "providence" is "pro vid-ere" which means literally "to see with" or "to see for"--implying the use of dynamic memory in looking at the past, creative imagination in looking at the future, and collaborative action in the pres.ent. Thus Di-vine Providence may be viewed, as God calling creatures to be co-responsible for and to collaborate with the Spirit in shaping the future. There are different kinds of futures including: (a) possible, that is, what could happen limited only by the scope of imagination; (b) prob-able, that is, given current trends, what is likely to happen; (c) prefer-able, that is, what should happen determined by a value system; and (d) plausible, that is, what can happen by attending carefully to the other kinds of futures. I would suggest that, in helping to shape the future, we need to explore the possible, assess the probable, assert the preferable, and attempt the plausible. The Cultivation of a Mature Sense of Hope and Trust By hope I mean trustful expectation for the future, born of faith in promises of the more to come. Just as with faith, I believe there is a first and second naivete of hope. In faith development, what begins initially as an unquestioning and naive faith, after a period of doubt and questioning, can grow into a more critical and mature faith marked by a second naivete. A similar develop-ment can happen in regard to a naix, e hope. An Eden-like expectation of absolute assurance can be shattered by an act of betrayal (real or sup-posed, conscious or unconscious). If the person thus "betrayed" can for-give and effect reconciliation with the event of betrayal, then that per-son can grow to a more mature trust (second naivete) which includes the possibility and risk of further betrayal. I would submit that people can experience corporate as well as individual betrayals, that is, betrayal by Enlarging Perspectives a renewed Church or changed religious community. Some Questions to Enlarge Perspectives (1) Perspectives of kingdom and Church Are we "catholic" enough in our notion of Church? How much do we perceive Church in the first person plural? Do we view both institu-tional and charismatic elements in the Church as interdependent, minis-tering in mutual dependency rather than as competitors or adversaries? As different (and often differing!) individuals and groups in the Church, can we transcend personal and intramural agenda by focusing on king-dom priorities? Does our grasp of Church embrace a missionary dimen-sion as necessary to its fullness? In carrying forth the mission, do we see evangelization as a two-way street, a dialogue in which we need to lis-ten to learn as well as to proclaim to teach kingdom values? Do we value quality of personal evangelization (especially our own !) over quantity of religious practices? In evangelizing, are we able to distinguish Gospel from cultural values? Are we developing a mature love for that Church? Does such love imply placing a priority on our personal relationship with Jesus and com-mitment to the Gospel proclaiming his kingdom as realities that relativ-ize Church membership? In realizing that discipleship is prior to apostleship? In seeing code, creed, and cult as important, but secondary to our experience of God in Christ? Does a mature love for the Church call for recognizing and embracing the flawed as well as the the graced condition not only of ourselves and other individuals, but of the Church itself? Does it mean reverencing the person and opinions of others who disagree with us? Being able to forgive those who wound us? Does ma-ture love prefer invitation to control by refusing to resort to power poli-tics to win the day, even for a worthy cause? Does it include making pref-erential, yet not exclusive options for the poor? Does it call for building bridges between those who have and those who have not? Do we foster mature love of Church by exercising a truly servant leadership that is ready to wash feet? To share Eucharist in life as well as sacrament? To discern the Spirit of God in experiences of life? To recognize, affirm, and enable the use of different gifts for ministry in the Church? Does ma-ture love lead us to avoid elitism and to shun seeking privilege? Are we comfortable enough in our Catholic identity so as to engage in genuine dialogue (in which we listen as well as speak) with other Christians and non-Christians energized by a passion for unity in love as well as truth? Do we acknowledge goodness wherever or in whomever we find it, in-side or outside the Church? Do we acknowledge kingdom values wher- Review for Religious, January-February 1990 ever we find them? (2) Perspectives of religious life: So as to establish a proper context, rather than asking in isolation "What is happening to religious life?", should we be asking, "What is happening in the Church?" And what is happening in the global Church--in Africa, Latin America, Asia, and elsewhere? Not just in the local Church in a given diocese, nation, or culture. Within respective religious communities, do we need to shift focus and to widen horizons? To shift the focus of membership in community from local living to the larger religious community sharing a charism within a context of Church and kingdom? As religious, is there any higher obedience we owe the Church than fidelity to the charism of our community? And, in fact, is that charism the exclusive possession of any given canonical group? Can that same charism be shared by men as well as women? By laity as well as by religious? by non-Catholics as well as by Catholics? If the charism is susceptible of wider appropriation, then is there a responsibility for religious to share and foster it with others out-side their own canonical groups? Could it be that the charism will out-live present structures that embody it? What can we do to discover or to create the conditions for"upper room experiences" so that community gatherings might become energiz-ing and enabling rather than enervating and obstructive? What would they look like in terms of participation? Prayerful mode? Respect for dif-ferent gifts for ministry? Though responsibly planned, with a readiness for kairos moments in which we can be surprised by the Spirit? Agenda with priority on the needs of those we serve over internal concern? Lis-tening with open hearts? How are we dealing with the fear and confu-sion of crisis? How and in what areas can we work in mutual dependence with oth-ers who share our concerns? Where is there redundancy, competition, or unhealthy independence or dependence? Between religious communities? Between men and women? Between religious and laity? Between parish priests and religious or lay associates? Between Catholic and non- Catholic sponsored programs? What kind of support do we need from and can we give to one another? (3) Perspectives of the future and hope for it: Can we resist being victimized by "prophets of doom" proclaim-ing the probable? Are we ready to share responsibility for shaping the future by reading the signs of the times and by making discerned choices for the preferable and plausible futures? Have we grown in a mature Enlarging Perspectives sense of hope and trust? Have we survived real or supposed "betrayal" within communities and/or the Church? How have we reacted or re-sponded? With bitterness? Anger? Resentment? Cynicism? or with for-giveness and reconciliation? With the readiness to enter a more real world? With greater awareness and acceptance of human limitation? With a more mature love of Church? With the willingness to risk in trust-ing again? With the firm belief that, though Jesus has ceased to be vis-ible, he has never ceased to be present? Conclusion Perhaps a fitting paradigm for this time of transition would be the Exodus event? Many, lured by promises, never reached the Promised Land themselyes, but lived and worked that others might? As Sam Goldwyn used to remark at meetings. "For your informa-tion, I have come to ask a few questions!" Perhaps this is a time for hav-ing more disturbing questions than comforting answers. It was Rilke who said the important thing was to love the questions and perhaps someday we would live ourselves into the answers! There might be the germ in that for a strategy of survival for religious during an era of transition: to love and live the questions to~e'ther in hope! Towards A Trinitarian Model of Religious Life John J. Markey, O.P. Father John Markey, O.P., is a member of the Southern Dominican Province. His address is De Porres House; 495 Merritt Avenue; Oakland, California 94610. The authors of the landmark book, Habits of the Heart, present a clear challenge to traditional religious communities which claim to want to "transform" the dominant cultural ethos. ~ It is ultimately up to the vari-ous churches to provide a morally coherent alternative to the radically myopic individualism that has come to so characterize and inform Ameri-can culture. But religion itself has often been both systematically co-opted by this culture, and has reinforced it by providing a rationale for its most insipid implications. It is, therefore, increasingly evident that the churches must begin any wider prophetic role by questioning and re-imagining their own communal life, and the place of the valid insights of individualism within this context. Within the Roman Catholic tradi-tion it is clear that those in religious life have a particularly urgent man-date and rich resources in this regard. There is a growing awareness that any genuine Christian community must be both inculturated and prophetic. This means that the community must define itself within a certain cultural context; it must take seriously and even incarnate the valid insights and thought-forms of the culture. But the community will also necessarily have a countercuitural dimen-sion to it. It will be characterized by a lifestyle that explicitly contradicts some cultural themes and attitudes that are seen to be irreconcilable with gos-pel values. A thorough analysis of American culture would reveal many myths 22 A Trinitarian Model. of Religious Life / 23 and values that need to be challenged and transvalued by the gospel, but no single aspect of American life is as pervasive and dominant as radi-cal individualism. It is fair to say that Western liberal thought revolves around this theme, and that it informs every strain of American cultural life. The deifica~tion of this cultural value has had a destructive impact on American life by creating an ethos where commitment is often unin-telligible, fragmentation and disintegration of family life is unavoidable, and personal isolation is the norm. This is not to say that individualism in itself is the problem. On the contrary, there are many positive and valuable insights attached to this thought-form. Some of the fundamental values derived from individual-ism that religious communities should incarnate are: the emphasis on the value and dignity of each person and the role of the community in en-hancing this dignity; the primacy of the personal, relational, and experi-ential dimension of the community life over against the institutional and structural dimension; and the absolute need for personal manifestation and self-appropriation of community identity, decisions, and goals. Any North American religious community must take the valuable insights of individualism seriously if it truly wants to be both inculturated and pro-phetic. But the community must, at the same time, develop a lifestyle that puts this phenomenon in the fuller perspective of the gospel. Proposal for an lnculturated North American Model of Religious Life Given both the major cultural themes and the major cultural needs and problems, I propose that community should be the rubric around which we redefine our understanding and praxis of religious life at this time. I think that it is this element of religious life which, if properly un-derstood, best encompasses and incorporates the relational, personal, and experiential values that we learn from our culture. It is also community which most clearly responds to the desperate need in our time for a sig-nificant countercultural alternative to radical individualism. It is clear, however, that we must come to a new and meaningful understanding of community, particularly in a Christian and Catholic context, if we are going to develop the coherent alternative we seek. We must rethink tra-ditional understandings of community and communal life in terms that can both express the new insights of the culture while at the same time remaining faithful to the spirit of both the gospel and the broader tradi-tion in regard to community. Along these lines, then, I propose that we consider the Trinity to be the model of authentic Christian community, and therefore the context Review for Religious, January-February 1990 in which we redefine community and community life. I hope to make it clear that a trinitarian model and trinitarian terminology are ultimately more helpful for the task previously laid out than the Christological model on which much of religious life is currently based. Furthermore, I propose that we adopt a modern (though traditionally informed) social understanding of the Trinity that explains the Trinity in experiential terms. Here I am essentially assuming that there are two traditional theo-logical interpretations of the Trinity, that while related are finally dis-tinct. 2 I will try to explain the two lines of development below and then show some of the implications of taking one as our model of commu-nity. It is important to see that the fundamental advantage of this option is that it provides a model of community based on the very life of God as we understand it. In this sense the religious community is defined as an icon of the Trinity, which means that its self-understanding must ul-timately be shaped by its most deeply held theological assertions. Two Approaches to Understanding the Trinity I) Substantial Identity In the West after Augustine, the primary approach to Trinity was to begin with the divine "substantia," the single and simple essence or sub-stance of the Godhead, and then try to explain (generally using a very schematic psychological model) how this single substance could be triper-sonal. So the main focus of this line of development was the attempt to show how the three persons could relate to one common divine sub-stance, which necessarily precluded any multiplicity, while at the same time maintaining a real distinction of persons. This approach was suc-cessful in describing the unity of the Godhead, but ultimately found it difficult to give an adequate account of the relation of persons within this unity. For this reason articulations of this approach often ended in either modalism or quaternity. H)Vital Identity and Mutual Inexistence In the East, following the lead of the Cappadocian Fathers, there was a tendency to begin with the reality of the three persons and then to ar-gue to the unity of the Godhead. In essence, the task of this approach was to show how three persons could be one (rather than how one could be three). Along these lines there were two critical developments. First, Victorinus proposed that the unity of God be described as a "vital iden-tity" of life and action rather than as a "substantia."3 God then was not to be understood as some static essence, but as vitally and dynamically A Trinitarian Model of Religious Life / 95 alive. The three persons, therefore, do not share a common substance so much as a common identity of life. Secondly, John of Damascus proposed the concept of mutual inex-istence (perichoresis) as the best way to describe the unity of the three persons.4 This meant that the three indwell in one another and compene-trate with one another, as the flame of three wicks can burn as one. This mutual indwelling or inexistence of the divine persons is not a conse-quence of their unity, but the equivalent of it. It is in fact the mutual and complete compenetration of the three divine persons that comprises their essential unity. So here the divine persons literally exist in one another in a vibrant and ecstatic way. The three persons, as incorporeal and fully self-donating, experience an interpenetration and intense empathy that is ultimately a single identity of life. It is then the self-donation of the three persons that makes their unity possible. This mutual self-donation, however, does not compromise the autonomy of each divine person, but is only possible because of it. With-out autonomy no action would be possible, let alone self-donation. This perfect self-donation makes relationships unitive rather than divisive. This means that mutual self-donating relationships constitute the very re-ality of God. By beginning with the persons we come to a radically social under-standing of the Godhead that can in turn lead to a social understanding of created reality as well. God is the supreme communion of three di-vine persons, which humans are called to reflect imperfectly, but sacra-mentally, in relationships and community. If we choose community, then, as the rubric under which to rede-fine religious life, it would seem that the second approach to Trinity is the best model for human and particularly Christian community. I would contend however, that most models of religious life, and particularly the models of community within these, coming out of past paradigms in the West, are based on the "substantial identity" approach. I would like to make a short critique of the understanding of community under this model, and then begin to reinterpret some aspects of community and re-ligious life under this new model. Short Analysis of the Old Model of Community In many ways the old paradigm of religious life and particularly of community is analogous to the substantial identity approach to the Trin-ity. Traditional understandings of religious life tended to begin with the one substance, usually the institutional structure of the community, or-der or congregation, and then tried to fit individuals into this substance. Review for Religious, January-February 1990 So they began with the unity, which in this case tends to be a formal and impersonal unity, to which individual persons must relate. In this model the persons do not relate directly to one another, but instead relate to a certain "thing" called community. Personal relationships within this type of community are then either mediated or accidental. Individuality in this model means that I have my own personal and spiritual life (that should stay within certain boundaries and follow certain rubrics) and that I relate to the group in a certain structured way along the lines of func-tion. In other words, the work that I do is regulated by and somehow re-flects the group. The theological focus and justification for this understanding of com-munity tends to be narrowly Christological. As an individual I follow Christ by joining with a group of Christians who want to follow Christ along a similar pattern. In the West this pattern has often been basically informed by a military model (although it is a caricature to say that one became a "soldier for Christ," and that one joined the "Christian army," these images did seem to be present in the popular imagination of recent generations of religious). This narrowly Christological focus in turn often led to a linear and patriarchal institutional structure within which the individual must fit him-self or herself. This model also left no real room for the Holy Spirit and pneumatology because these tend to disrupt the structures (rules, consti-tutions,. traditions, and so forth) which are the source and focus of unity. In this scheme, then, unity was often equated with conformity to a set and impersonal pattern of common life. The main problem with this model is that it generally leads to one of two understandings of community and communal life, both of which are based on the assumption that there is some "thing" out there called a community that exists apart from the people that make it up. There is, for instance, a Dominican Order out there that somehow exists apart from Dominicans. This ultimately leads to understanding the community as be-ing fundamentally impersonal (which seems self-contradictory). This un-derstanding of community manifests itself in two basic forms, both of which I believe can be described in trinitarian terms. On the one hand, there is a kind of Modalism where each member of the community is just a projection of the whole group. Here each member is really interchange-able with any other member. Personal identity is subsumed in the whole so that my individual personality needs to be altered and re-formed so as to project the image of the whole. Secondly, the term Quaternity can be used to describe an understanding of community where each person A Trinitarian Model of Religious Life is seen to be a distinct member of the community, but there is always something more behind these called "the community." The community is some thing out there which each member, and all of the members as a whole, only represent but never fully embody. Religious Community Based on the Social Trinity Model Like its trinitarian paradigm, this understanding of religious commu-nity begins with the persons, and comes to understand their unity as that of persons sharing a vital identity of life based on mutual self-donation and shared vision. So the source of unity is love and its manifestation is the interpersonal bonding of the members. Although common struc-tures and institutions will arise from this unity to support it, they are not identical to this unity nor are they its source, starting point, or founda-tion. The actual starting point of this model is an understanding of per-sons as ecstatic beings who are most fully persons when they donate them-selves fully to the other in interpersonal relationships. In this sense per-sons can and do exist in one another~dwell in one another--in a way analogous to the way in which the persons of the Trinity mutually inex-ist. So this new model demands that community be understood in radi-cally personal and social terms. This approach effectively means that there is no "thing" out there called community that is essential and un-changeable and is unaffected by the persons who make it up. So there is, for instance, no Dominican order or community out there that exists apart from Dominicans. A consequence of this is that what a community is, or what the Dominican order is, is always changing and developing to some extent. The community is always dependent on the persons that make it up. So the community is always identified with the personal ex-perience of it. Although the community is always changing and developing with the people involved, it should always grow and develop along certain lines or patterns. This is because an essential part of the vital identity of the community will be an apprehension of and a resonance with the identity of the founder and the habitual tendency to live this out concretely over time. Those in community must interiorize this identity, and come to share it in common, as well as be familiar with how this identity has been lived out concretely in its shared history. Nevertheless, the present com-munity must never blindly follow one single concretization, or absolu-tize any past communal manifestation of this identity. The difference between this. and the older Christological model is that this model is profoundly pneumatological. Here to follow Christ Review for Religious, January-February 1990 means, first of all, to take on the mind of Christ, and this in turn means to be radically open to the Holy Spirit and the newness of mind that this entails. Taking on this mind leads to a radical personalization because it calls one to complete trust in the Father--which frees each person to be truly open and vulnerable to others. This mind also causes one to re-alize that mutual inexistence is not something one chooses, but is the very pattern and foundation of life (which one can choose to ignore). Be-cause the Holy Spirit is the ultimate personalizing principle, even within the Godhead, we see that the Spirit is the foundation of community.5 All of the above implies that the fundamental starting point for re-ligious community is conversion. The absolute need for the type of con-version process that allows us to take on the mind of Christ is obvious. Community is not possible without the orientation, transvaluation, and radical personalization of both initial and ongoing religious conversion. Any model of community that is not premised on both the initial and on-going need for conversion and repentance is inadequate. Community is not then finally some thing we can do; it is a gift we are given and can only receive. It is also not something we ever have as a finished product or achievement; its fulfillment always lies in the future, though the seeds of this future are already present. So these pneuma-based communities are inherently eschatological communities in that they point to and an-ticipate the fullness of communion in the future. Differences between the Old and New Models in Four Key Areas I) Formation Formation in the Old Model often meant re-formation. It often in-volved taking a person and changing him or her into a certain type of person who acted in a particular way and had a particular mind-set. For-mation in practice was usually indoctrination and incorporation into an institution. So there was a process set up that should end at a certain point with a certain type of predetermined character who could function within a defined system of life. The model of formation was most often seen to be military "boot camp," and the primary method of formation was sensory deprivation and incarceration. Under the New Model, formation would refer more-to the whole group than to the individual person. This is because with each new per-son that enters.the group, the group must re-form, as it were, and estab-lish a new unity. The model for individuals would actually be incorpo-ration, but not incorporation into a preexisting and unchangeable struc-ture. Rather, the process would be one of being drawn into a conscious A Trinitarian Model of Religious Life / 99 union of persons that entails individual and group conversion. It is a proc-ess of growth in desire and ability to donate oneself to a certain group of people, and for the group to accept and relate personally to the new person, hence redefining itself in terms of that person. The model for for-mation here would be more like the RCIA. It is a dynamic process of conversion and incorporation that challenges both the individual and the community to come to a new understanding of and commitment to oth-ers. Initial formation in a strict sense would include a process of coming to know the vital identity of the preexisting group by coming to know the identity and vision of the founder and interiorizing this vision in a way that causes the person to make decisions that in turn forms his or her character. In other words, there is a sense of taking on a new iden-tity, but this identity is always personal, and builds on the character, per-sonality, and experience of the person. It is neither a process of becom-ing someone wholly different from oneself, nor the same as others; it is coming to a fullness of autonomy and unique identity. It is a process of becoming who the person truly is. It is only this process that can facili-tate Christian community, because self-donation is ultimately based on the fullness of autonomy, not the lack of it. lrI) Vows In the Old Model the vows were generally understood to be explicit commitments to live out a certain pattern of life: This pattern was often based on the narrow, military sense of following Christ that I have al-ready mentioned. The vows were then defined as being those elements that were necessary to maintain a cohesive and successful group identity and purpose. Obedience, therefore, was often the primary vow (for Dominicans it was the only vow), and was understood in the military sense of accept-ing a certain authority structure and chain of command. How one related to the community as a whole. The authority structure tended to take the place of interpersonal responsibility to the community---following orders from legitimate authority, no matter how half-heartedly and passively, was seen to be obedience. Poverty was the commitment to be materially dependent on the whole group, and to accept the priority of the corporate needs over one's own. So one could not own anything personally (that is, neither personal bank accounts nor independent financial resources), although one might have the use of things based on need. Furthermore, this vow was gener-ally regarded as applying only to the individual's obligation in regard to Review for Religious, January-February 1990 material goods, although it was occasionally seen to impinge on the ma-terial wealth of the community as a whole. Celibacy had both a moral and an institutional basis. It was, there-fore, seen as the obligation to abstain from all sexual activity, and to avoid all exclusive relationships so as to avoid scandal to the group's repu-tation and to insure cohesive institutional structures. In the New Model there will always be two aspects to any vow: how it affects and is part of the life of the community as a whole; and how it affects and directs the life of the individual. It is important to see that the vows are primarily commitments to a certain style of life and to cer-tain values and priorities made by the whole community. The individ-ual's vows, then, are the taking on of these group commitments, and mak-ing personal decisions to facilitate these. So when the individual makes vows, she or he is vowing to enter fully into the vows of the whole com-munity, and making a commitment to come to see one's own identity in terms of the others. In one sense there is only one vow, namely the community's vow to enter into an obediential relationship to the Father after the example of Jesus, based on an unconditional trust in the providential care of the Father. This vow then will be most clearly manifest in the community's commitment to poverty. Obedience in this model is first and foremost trust in God. But be-cause of this it is experienced as a trust in and openness to the whole com-munity. In this sense, obedience means essentially "to listen" (from the Latin root), and is most fully expressed by the term integrity. For the in-dividual this means that one make the community the priority in one's life, and, therefore, the person should grow, develop, and make deci-sions in true dialogue with the whole community. It means that each per-son forms and informs his or her life by the interpersonal relationships that are experienced as community. As a group, obedience is the commitment to never let institutional structures pass for common life or take the place of true listening, dis-cernment, and consensus building. In other words, it is the commitment to an ongoing and interpersonal dialogue, which is a group commitment, out of love, to live with a certain amount of ambiguity and tension in their lives, even at the expense of efficiency and cohesiveness. The com-munity and the individual fundamentally commit themselves to be open to the Spirit, and to be fully charismatic in the truest sense. Rigid con-formity, mediocre efforts, institutional paralysis, unimaginative and un-creative problem solving, and impersonal decision-making would all be Seen as violations of this vow. Poverty is seen by the whole community as the test and sign of its A Trinitarian Model of Religious Life unconditional trust in God. This vow is based on the assumption that the radical sharing of worldly goods is the fundamental and practical test of both the individual's and community's faith. So this vow on the part of the individual is the commitment to a complete sharing of wealth and re-sources with the others in the community and with those outside of it. It is a vow to hold nothing back. Furthermore, it is the commitment to work, not so that one may accumulate wealth or find personal gratifica-tion, but so that through work one may share with others, and produce fruits to share with others. On the part of the group, poverty is likewise a commitment to a radi-cal form of hospitality that excludes no one in principle, and where pri-ority for sharing is based on need. It also means that the whole commu-nity will work as a way of sharing, and so that it will have something to share. Group "navel-gazing" that does not end in service, wasting money and service on those who do not need it, over-planning for the future security of the group, spending money for services that the group could perform for themselves, and an inability to let go of past successes are all violations of this vow. Celibacy is the vow that facilitates the radical self-donation of one-self to a number of other people, so it is first of all the vow to give one-self fully and personally to the others in the community. As such, it nec-essarily requires that the person forego any fundamentally exclusive re-lationships and the types of physical intimacy that are proper to these. This does not mean a denial of intimacy, affection, and personal rela-tionship-- one is actually committed to these in self-donation--but one chooses to find these and enter into these within the context of commu-nity. This then is the central predisposition of the trinitarian model of com-munity: the choice to seek interpersonal fulfillment in a non-exclusive but fully intense way through community with others. As a community this vow is the commitment of the whole to each person, and to the extension of hospitality to include a personal open-ness to all. So it is a commitment to be inclusive communities that offer human relationship unconditionally to all. Simply living together with a "boarding-house" mentality, refusing to reach out to and even chal-lenge the alcoholic or any dysfunctional member, passive-aggressive be-havior, and remaining separate and distant from people outside of the com-munity would all be violations of this vow. III) Common Life and Institutional Structures As alluded to earlier, in the New Model common aspects of the com-munity life (prayer, study, various practices, and so forth) and the un-derlying institutional structures which support these (constitutions, rules, 39 / Review for Religious, January-February 1990 authority structures, government apparatus) are not equivalent to the com-munity, but arise out of it and are meant to serve it. So no elements of the common life are absolute and unchangeable in principle. It is impor-tant to point out, however, that although the institutional structures in the New Model are fluid and open to change, there are some things that they must necessarily exclude. Leadership in this model of community is always a service to the whole that is exercised cautiously and humbly. Any authority structure within the community, therefore, must begin with an unequivocal rejection of a worldly view of power, particularly those models that arise out of a militaristic worldview. Furthermore, there can be no caste systems in community life--seniority, clericalism, and elitism are all worldly views of power. Everyone who has made an explicit commitment to the community has an equal share in and respon-sibility to the common life. So authority structures must always reflect this reality, and must always be open to revision and challenge. In both models the greatest threat to unity is dissent. In the Old Model, dissent was usually seen in impersonal terms, as in dissent from some aspect of common life. To disagree with a superior, to not observe a certain practice, or to disregard a certain law were all acts that were understood to be disunifying. The key in this model then was to mini-mize dissent by insisting on complete, even mindless, conformity on a very practical level to a certain core of ideas and practices. In the New Model dissent is seen in more personal terms as a break-down of the interpersonal bonding and as dysfunctionality. The main source of dissent is the attitudes of persons within the group towards one another. This type of dissent will often hide behind superficial agreement or conformity, but operates at a deeper level to poison relationships and undermine unity. The approach here though is to confront dissent as part of the ongoing need for conversion and repentance for the whole com-munity. This highlights then the absolute need for consent in this model, and particularly for an ongoing process of building consent or consen-sus. So the main emphasis is not minimizing dissent, it is maximizing consensus, which in turn requires that the community be willing to con-front and challenge dissent in a personal and constructive way. IV) Mission and Ministry In the Old Model mission and ministry were the primary focus of re-ligious life in general, and of one's individual vocation in particular. Com-munity, then, had a secondary role and was seen essentially as a means of facilitating mission. The dominant understanding of vocation was that one was called to a certain mission (namely to follow Jesus), and so one A Trinitarian Model of Religious Life / 33 was called to do certain things. One then was to choose a lifestyle that best accommodated and supported what it was that one wanted to do. One chose a community because it best enabled the work that one wanted to do. So community was formed for a certain reason or purpose, namely, because it was the most efficient and practical means to share resources, pool talents, and consolidate authority in order to get a cer-tain mission accomplished. The vows of celibacy and poverty, for in-stance, were often seen in this light: community made possible the kind of work one wanted to do. So this model generally understood mission in an individualistic sense, and mainly valued community for its func-tional role. In the New Model one does not live in community to facilitate work or mission; one lives in community and, therefore, can work and be sent on mission. Community is always primary and chosen for its own sake. Community is chosen because of the people involved; it is the decision to share one's life in a particular way with others. Here the trinitarian emphasis of this model is most helpful. The Trin-ity does not come together in order to create and go on mission. It is in-stead just because of the radical unity and self-donation of the persons to one another that they can create and be sent. The missions of Jesus and the Holy Spirit are the models here. Missions always reveal some-thing about the senders, and what the Son and Holy Spirit communicate simply is their shared life with the Father. It is precisely their shared life that they invite us into. In other words, the senders are essential; there is no mission without being sent. So it is because one lives in community, and because of the graced transformation of experience that this entails, that one feels empowered to go out. And what is shared when one is "out" is precisely the fruits of the common life. Because the Christian community is by nature a char-ismatic community, there are a variety of gifts to be shared. Furthermore, each community, because of its shared vital identity with a particular foun-der, will have a particular charism which both grows out of and shapes the development of the community life. It is then the radical self-donation conversion that sends a person out. So through conversion each person is always moving into wider circles of community. The religious community is in turn sent by the wider Christian community, and so it has a message and a mission also. Under this model, community is experientially prior to mission, and is in fact its source. In the actual life of the community, however, both will be mutually dependent and interrelated. In this sense though, very 34 / Review for Religious, January-February 1990 individualistic types of spirituality, even those that allow for some form of community, are called into question. In regard to vocation, this means that one's vocation is primarily understood as taking on the mind of Christ and thereby coming into contact with the life of God within one, and of being called by this realization into relationship with others in a new way. In the context of this new relationship one is sent out to oth-ers. The point is that for those who choose to live in religious commu-nity it is community itself which is the vocation--it is the call. The spe-cific mission or function that one takes on within this context is really the call of or from the community. This call is the claim that members of the community have on one another by virtue of their mutual self-donation. This raises the question of the place of ordination within the reli-gious community. In the Old Model a specific type of work was often seen as the primary vocation, and, therefore, the community was there to support and enhance ordination. The levels of participation within the community were generally based upon the work one did, and so the or-dained occupied a higher level in the communal structure. So ordination tended to be divisive and obscured the priority of the communal life. In the New Model interpersonal relationships are primary. The vo-cation of the religious is to community, and it is primarily the commu-nity as a whole that is sacramental. It is the community which sends the person to do a particular type of work or to function in a particular ca-pacity. Ordination, then, comes from the community and is based both on the needs which the community perceives and on the gifts of the in-dividuals within the community. Ordination, however, is not the indi-vidual's sole possession; it is proper to the whole community and is dele-gated to one or another member as circumstances require. Furthermore, ordination can never be divisive; it can never change one's status within the community; it can only change one's function. Conclusion Those who look upon God as a metaphysical monad flee society to dwell alone with the Alone. [but] those who look upon the reality of God as the perfection of interpersonal communion will discover the divine in community.6 Our vision and image of God is ultimately the matrix around which we shape our lives. Who we are and how others experience us says more about the God we believe in than all the theological discourse we can of-fer. When confronting the challenge, therefore, of redefining our lives A Trinitarian Model of Religious Life so as to be prophetic witnesses to the gospel, the most fundamental ques-tion we must ask ourselves is, "Who is our God?" Likewise, when we truly come to know this God the primary question we must ask is not "What ought I do?" It is instead "Who ought we be?" NOTES J Robert Bellah et al, Habits of the Heart: Individualism and Commitment in Ameri-can Life (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1985). 2 For a more detailed discussion of the development of trinitarian doctrine see par-ticularly Jurgen Moltmann, The Trinity and the Kingdom (San Francisco: Harper & Row Publishers, 1981); Robert Jenson, The Triune Identity (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1982); and Donald Gelpi, S.J., The Divine Mother: A Trinitarian Theology of the Holy Spirit (Lanham: University of America Press, 1984). 3 Gelpi, op. cit., pp. 13 ! - 132. 4 Moltmann, op. cit., pp. 174-176; Gelpi, op. cit., p. 132. 5 For a further discussion on the role of the Holy Spirit in the Godhead see Gelpi, op. cit., particularly chapter 3. 6 lbid, p. 140. In-Depth Wisdom A tree climbs to the heights because of roots concealed; Waves break in beauty on the shores for there are depths unseen; Mountains rise in loveliness on rock, set fold on fold; Lest we forget as we grow old. Philomena Mary, S.N.J.M. 1420 Mount Royal Blvd. Outremont, Quebec, Canada H2V 2J2 Community--- A Multi-Dimensional Reality Jeanne Knoerle, S.P. Sister Jeanne Knoerle, S.P., is identified with Woods Associates, consultants to non-profit organizations in strategic planning, management, and marketing. Her address is Saint Mary-of-the-Woods; Indiana 47876. Several bits and pieces of experience have coalesced recently to tempo-rarily part some of the mists shrouding my understanding of the word and the reality of community within a religious congregation. They have con-tributed for me what our old Rational Psychology professor, Father McGinnis, would call an "intellectual aha," and I would like to share them. The first piece of experience contributing to this "aha" has grown from my confusion and unclarity about what it means to be a woman re-ligious, committed to a life lived in community. This is not a recent con-fusion. It has been with me (and I know with many others) for some years and is an ambiguity and tension that has been alternately energiz-ing and creative as well as enervating and destructive. So much so that I have come to see the word "community" as representing a reality with so many possible understandings and so many modalities of expression that it has become almost useless as a representation of a concept. Often a group of religious tries to get at its meaning by eliminating all the things it apparently is not--physical things like sharing a com-mon dwelling, sharing common work, doing things together--hoping that in identifying what it is not, they will more easily be able to move to a definition of what it is. When the group does move to trying to define what it is, they often identify it as an invisible bond which ties a group of people together 36 Community---A Multi-Dimensional Reality around shared values, seeing it as expressed not so much in physical to-getherness but in commonness of purpose, in a shared history, in a be-lief in a common tradition. In reality, however, what I find myself doing most of the time is vac-illating between those two extremes, momentarily satisfied but never fully at peace with either. One seems too dependent on a narrow con-ception which can be counted and measured and made explicit. The other seems too vague and unclear, susceptible of such a wide range of inter-pretation as to offer no possibility of an objective, shared reality. I come away with a sense that each of those extremes offers a piece of the truth, an insight into the constantly shifting dynamics of community, but that ultimately there must be some other, fuller definition that incorporates some aspects of each of them. A second bit of experience which led to these reflections has come from my further study of the Enneagram, a personality theory which iden-tifies three interior centers from which individuals draw their energy to cope with the realities of their life. These centers--the head or percep-tual center, the heart or relational center, and the gut or instinctual cen-ter- are each operative within every individual, and are each important to the development of the total human person.Yet each of us comes to favor using one of them over the other two, drawing from it the primary energy for our response to life. Dealing more deeply with this system and how it operates within the life of individuals has enabled me to more effectively step aside and ob-serve the patterns of my own and others' attitude toward life. It has given me a sense of understanding, tolerance, and acceptance of behavior that earlier I had been confused about and often judgmental of. And it has enabled me to see more clearly patterns in the motivations of individu-als and groups where before I had focused primarily on disparate actions. A major spin-off has been to provide me with a more coherent un-derstanding of the wide variations in the ways in which members of a religious community see and respond to the same stimuli. That people responded very differently was surely evident in the past. There were those who thoroughly enjoyed and anticipated the challenge of study in the summer, and those who dreaded the vei'y thought of summertime be-cause it meant they had to study. There were those who loved to volun-teer for infirmary duties and those who hated to. Those who loved most to party, and those who loved most to pray. Why they did so and why I personally responded in the way I did was not so clear. Because the Enneagram is a system built on trying to Review for Religious, January-February 1990 understand the constantly shifting dynamics of the human personality, the answers it provides to "why" we act the way we do are neither sim-ple nor clear-cut, but they do at least provide an overall pattern against which to make some judgment. The third piece of experience I bring to this moment comes from the variety of reading in theology, ecclesiology, and ethics that I have re-cently undertaken, but especially from Avery Dulles' recent book The Reshaping of Catholicism. Father Dulles' book helped to put some, though by no means all, of my frustrations into perspective. It helped sort out and clarify the mean-ing of many of the concepts and experiences which have been so much a part of Catholicism since Vatican II. But the particular insight he presented which connects to the chal-lenge I described earlier, that of defining community, I found in his chap-ter on the Extraordinary Synod of i 985. There, in explaining the themes which emerged from that synod and which were incorporated into its pub-lished Report, Dulles described three schools of thought which existed among the delegates: the neo-Augustinian school which tended to depict the Church as an island of grace in a world given over to sin; the com-munitarian school which tended to depict the Church as the human face of God on earth, in trouble now because of the failure of conservative prelates to carry out the reforms of Vatican II; and the liberation school which depicted the Church as in possession of the wisdom of God and which, therefore, must be politically involved if it is to carry out the work of the kingdom. The neo-Augustinians, putting their accent on worship and holiness, wanted a Church more committed to the cultivation of spiritual union with God. The communitarians, putting their accent on more humanis-tic issues, wanted a Church more involved in the promotion of peace and reconciliation. The liberationists, sharing neither the sacralism of the Augustinians nor the secular optimism of the communitarians, wanted a Church that was confrontational and militant. The Synod dealt with these three points of view, but the commitment of the drafters of the document was not to a presentation of varying points of view and to a clear identification of their points of disagree-ment. Rather the emphasis was on integration, on interrelationship, on allowing the variety of colors to be mixed together on the canvas like a Monet painting, rather than to be identified separately like a rainbow. Therefore, the final Report incorporated concerns of all of these groups, but with none clearly in the ascendance. Community--A Multi-Dimensional Reality/39 Dulles quotes the following marvelous sentence, artfully crafted to incorporate the ultimate wholeness which grew from the conflicting worldviews of all of those schools: "The Church as communion is the sacrament for the salvation of the world." It was that discussion about the schools of thought that existed in the Synod, and especially that sentence which seemed so beautifully to cre-ate a whole out of three disparate expressions of the truth, which began to push a pattern more insistently into the forefront of my mind. While the community of a gathering of bishops and the community of a religious congregation are certainly very different entities, and in many ways are not analagous, they do share the reality of being a group of people in relationship to one another, who share a common purpose, a common mission, and a common tradition. Theirs is a more ephem-eral relationship--they are not together often, nor with regularity, nor as a group do they have a specific, ongoing common task beyond the one they are presently fulfilling, though they do share the general task of mak-ing the word of God present in the world through their work as bishops. Nonetheless, it seems to me we can see the conflictual issues of com-munity mirrored fairly clearly in the three schools of thought which ex-isted at the Synod and which were so clearly delineated by Father Dul-les. And those schools fit with a fair amount of cohesion into the three types of centers which are basic to the theory of the Enneagram. The neo-Augustinians, like those approaching life from the head cen-ter, tend to approach things perceptually, more frequently using their in-tellect and their powers of observation to solve the problems of life, be-ing less intensely involved than those in the other centers. Hence they more clearly see the other-worldly aspects of religious life and feel less pressure to commit the community to becoming involved in the concerns of the world, and more pressure to see that it retains its sense of being an effective instrument of salvation. The communitarians, like those approaching life from the heart cen-ter, tend to approach things from the point of view of relationships, con-cerned always with how they relate to others and how others relate to one another. Without a sense of relationship they have difficulty feeling the life in them, and are, therefore, much more concerned with the world outside them than with the world within them. Hence they focus most comfortably on the human aspects of the work of the community. The liberationists, on the other hand, like those approaching life from the gut center, have an instinctual feeling about the World; they have a kind of built-in sense of knowing, the source of which is not al- 40 / Review for Religious, January-Februao, 1990 ways clear, but the force of which is powerful. Hence they have a strong belief in the responsibility of the community to bring justice into the world, to use its resources and its life to make the world more right. Let me use myself as an example. As a person whose energy comes from the heart or relational center, I am most comfortable in the com-munitarian school, concerned with how we as members of a community can better relate to one another and how our religious community can best help other human beings be better, holier, happier, more complete persons. During the last few years I have begun gradually to integrate some of the rico-Augustinian or perceptual worldview more fully into my own, however. Becoming concerned that I had put too much emphasis on the outer world of action, I have consciously attempted to develop the inner, more spiritual aspects of my person. And now I sense in-creased energy emanating from the head center as well. Where I feel least comfortable, however, is in the liberation school. I know intellectually that to become fully integrated I must learn to trust (perhaps even more fundamentally to get in touch with) my instincts. I know I must learn that to touch and release my anger will not interfere with my relationships. I know I must be better able to integrate and act out of my instinctual center, as I have begun to integrate and act out of my perceptual center. Yet I find this center most out of my range of ex-perience and significantly harder to reach. I think each of us--whatever our approach to life--has the same strug-gle. If we want to become more personally integrated, if we want ulti-mately to create a more mature community, we must perceive, then tol-erate, then understand, then fully accept the differing approaches to life which result from using the energy of each of these centers. We must attempt to identify what worldview is ours and, without imposing it as the best and only one, contribute that piece of truth to the Monet canvas of community. But we must also acknowledge what piece of truth we find hardest to accept and struggle to incorporate it more fully into our view of reality. We must acknowledge, if we operate as neo-Augustinians from the head of perceptual center, our discomfort level when the community seems to over-stress a commitmeni to human development, leaving the spiritual aspect of our lives unstressed. We must acknowledge, if we operate as communitarians from the heart or relational center, our discomfort level when we are asked to ap-prove the taking of a community stand, thereby moving to publicly sepa-rate us from others rather than to positively underscore the bonds which Community--A Multi-Dimensional Reality draw human beings together. We must acknowledge, if we operate as iiberationists from the gut or instinctual center, our discomfort level when the community stresses the eschatological, the importance of the kingdom of heaven and the life of the other world, rather than the impor!ance of confronting the evil in this world and the need to see that justice is accomplished in the present. In each case, however, if community is to mirror the full dimensions of our humanness, we must acknowledge that each approach to life does have a piece of the truth. And we must be willing to contribute our own piece of the truth, holding on to it and placing it on the canvas. Then stand back to see the full picture which we have helped to create, accept-ing the contribution of the other truths as well as our own to that full-ness. Developing the fullness of that picture is what community is all about. And since, perhaps more than at any other time in history, com-munity is a concept that is ambiguous, even anomalous, we must be will-ing, as the drafters of the synod document were of the concept of Church, to seek among us a creative and dynamic peace about how we perceive and live it. As we now live in religious communities, however,, it seems to me that we too often speak the words of power than of peace. We fail to en-ter the world of those with whom we share the reality of community, talk-ing too often instead from the protection of our own shell, not really hear-ing, not really understanding the words of those who speak from another worldview. Our primary goal is too often the imposition of our own. Let me return to the initial insight which prompted these reflections-- that the word community has come to mean so many things that it has become almost useless as the representation of a concept. I would like now to modify that insight somewhat to say rather that community is a such multifaceted concept that it can only be captured by allowing its defi-nition to be pluriform. It is perhaps most analagous, not to a Monet paint-ing, but to a hologram---offering only one specific facet to the eyes of the viewer at a given time, yet only complete When seen in its full three dimensions. Perhaps if we can come 'to see our third of the truth reflected in that hologram, together with the other dimensions of the truth we less clearly identify with, we can better allow ourselves to say yes to the varying ex-pressions of community. And at the same time we can come to agree-ment that no one expression is sufficient for the whole. To begin this process, we need to name and claim our own 49 / Review for Religious, January-February 1990 worldview, so that it becomes objectified and clear. Then we need to hear others name theirs, and accept the authenticity of their vision as well as ours. Only then can we proceed. For example, from my relational center, from my communitarian worldview, some physical togetherness, some living or working or be-ing together, seems to me to be clearly implicit in the very word com-munity. I have difficulty understanding the more ethereal co.ncept of com-munity which is sometimes outlined in the perceptual or neo-Augus~inian view--that community is a form of bondedness which need not be ex-pressed in our being i.ogether, but rather in our somehow feeling that we are together. And I have even greater difficulty with the instinctual or liberationist concept of community as being strengthened by being against something or someone else. That simply is how I perceive community. It does not mean that I believe I hold the only truth about it. It does not negate other concepts or understandings of community. It simply means that if we ultimately define community without including some aspect ofphysical together-ness I will have little ability to relate to that definition, nowhere to hang on to it. It will not fit within my worldview. I need to correct the narrowness of my vision, not by letting go of it, not by some grand gesture of surrender or denial which will ultimately lead to my feeling at the margins of community or, even worse, alien-ated from it. I need to proffer my piece of truth and then seek to broaden my vision and deepen my understanding of community by seriously study-ing the truths offered by others, ultimately respecting their view of real-ity as much as I respect my own. If we were all to do that in mutual respect for each other's view of what community is, while the resulting hologram of community might not be totally satisfying to any one of us, it could instead offer us a rich and full opportunity to explore and live out its multifaceted reality dur-ing the rest of our lives. Dyads and Triads: The Sociological Implications of Small-Group Living Arrangements Patricia Wittberg, S.C. Sister Patricia Wittberg, S.C., is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Soci-ology and Anthropolgy at Fordham University. Her address is Department of Soci-ology and Anthropology; Fordham University; Bronx, New York 10458. As the number of active members in religious congregations becomes smaller, and as these members become involved in more varied and dis-persed ministries, it is increasingly common to find religious living sin-gly or in groups of two or three. While the personal.and communal im-plications of individuals living alone have been examined to some ex-tent,~ the special social dynamics of pairs and other very small groups have been less frequently considered. Usually, groups of religious larger than one but smaller then eight or ten are treated together under the head-ing "small group living," with little consideration for the special char-acteristics which groups of two or three might have. It would, however, be a valuable exercise to examine these special characteristics, since the recent experience of many congregations has uncovered regular patterns in them. Some "pair" living arrangements--or dyads, as they are also called--have remained stable for years or even decades within a congre-gation, resisting the efforts of community leaders or of the dyadic pair themselves to add a third person. Conversely, groups of three religious (triads) are often unstable, repeatedly splitting into pair and a singleton. The stability of pair members or the frequent group-switching of thirds have sometimes been attributed by others to unhealthy tendencies in the individuals involved--immaturity, perhaps, or excessive dependency. So- 43 44/Review for Religious, January-February 1990 ciologists, however, have found that it is often the mere fact of belong-ing to a group of a given size that elicits certain behaviors from an indi-vidual, independently of his or her personal psychological character-istics. This article will summarize the writings of the German sociolo-gist Georg Simmel on the characteristics of dyads and triads, and will draw some tentative implications of these studies for religious who live in small groups. It is important to emphasize that Simmel viewed his work on the nu-merical composition of groups to be a sort of "geometry of human rela-tions." Just as the properties of a circle or a triangle remain constant whether the actual figure is made of paper or of wood, so the social dy-namics of dyads and triads are inherent in themselves, Simmel thought, regardless of the individuals involved. It is, of course, possible that the members of a particular dyad or triad can disregard the tendencies at-tached to number, especially if they are aware of them. It is also possi-ble that a common ideological commitment, such as the vows in relig-ious life, may override the effects of a given number, to some extent. But the underlying dynamics will still exist, and will result in certain com-mon patterns when many groups are examined. The Dyad A dyad, Simmel stated, is different from all other groups, in that, while outsiders may see it as a unit, from the inside each member sees only the other person, and not a supra-individual collectivity.2 If either individual should leave, the dyad would cease to exist. Each member thus feels herself and her partner to be indispensable, since "for its life the dyad needs both; for its death only one.''3 The dyad is, therefore, more conscious of the possibility of group dissolution, and feels "both endangered and irreplaceable." Dyadic relations are also characterized by greater intimacy than larger groups--it is the uniqueness of these two particular individuals that gives the dyad its special flavor and which can often become "the core value and chief matter of its existence."4 Since only one other.individual besides oneself composes a dyad, the group "does not attain that super-personal life" which the individual feels to be independent of his presence and participation.5 Dyad mem-bers are unable to delegate responsibility to "the group," to expect things from "the group," or to let "the group" get away with some-thing. In a larger group, by contrast, an individual may fail to develop ownership of group decisions, or may passively benefit from her mem-bership with a minimum of personal contributions. Dyads and Triads Dyadic Living Relationships in Religious Life There are both positive and negative implications of the dynamics of dyadic relationships in religious life. On the positive side, dyadic liv-ing encourages the personal assumption of responsibility for the quality of group living. If the house i~ dirty or if common prayer is neglected, there is no one to blame but oneself and one other individual. Dyadic living has also been a fruitful way for religious to develop their ability to achieve intimacy and individual growth,6 psychological capacities that were often stunted in the large institutional living arrangements of for-mer decades. Other aspects of dyadic interactions, however, have at least the potential for negative effects--both for the congregation as well as for the individuals involved. Since the departure of either member de-stroys a dyad, an individual religious living in such an arrangement may have to do a sort of "dual discernment" when considering a ministerial change: taking into consideration both whether it is time for himself to move on as well as whether it is a good time for his dyadic partner to have to find a new living arrangement. For this reason, dyads tend to be the most stable of small groups. Since stability, uniqueness, and intimacy are inherent in the dyadic form, the individuals living in dyads may not necessarily have psycho-logically unhealthy traits, even if they remain together longer than out-siders would deem wise. For those who do have such traits, however, dyadic living will exacerbate them. Furthermore, a mutual dependency may develop within the dyad over time, even if none existed initially. For dyad members who are or have become excessively dependent on each other, dissolution of the dyad (by death or serious illness, for ex-ample) will cause intense psychological distress. There is also evidence that dyadic living can be detrimental to the larger congregation. This is true whether the congregation is following the traditional "intentional community" model or one of the newer as-sociational forms. In an intentional community, members are bound to-gether by a common religious ideology which encourages the subordi-nation, at least in some key instances, of the individual to the larger group.7 Previous research on intentional communities has shown that dy-adic attachments often erode this group loyalty, which is the essential foundation of the communal lifestyle.8 For this reason, successful inten-tional communities have always included some mechanism either to elimi-nate dyads or to subordinate them. Sometimes the suppression of dyads has been heavy-handed and psychologically destructive, as in the at-tempts to eliminate "particular friendships" in pre-Vatican II religious 46 / Review for Religious, January-February 1990 life, and at times it has led to unusual patterns such as the forced adop-tion of "group marriage" in the Oneida community. By whatever means, however, no intentional community has ever survived that has allowed dyadic attachment to develop unhindered.9 Many religious congregations, of course, have discarded the inten-tional community model and have adopted a looser form of association. One such model which has been recently advanced is that of "mission" as the uniting principle behind a community. Religious may live and work in widely scattered situations and yet still consider themselves bound together by the shared missionary vision of their founder: Community is not the living situation. It is not all going to Great Amer-ica together, it is not dressing alike, and it is not working in the same facility. Community is the result of our bondedness around a common mission, Christ's mission, the kingdom, according to the spirit and charism of our founder or foundress as experienced in this particular group. ~0 But the very intimacy and uniqueness inherent in the dyad can often eclipse this dedication to mission and attenuate any mission-based bonds to the larger group. If this happens, the dyad will stagnate at the self-absorbed stage which Wombacher says is a danger to those individuals and groups which fail to go outside of themselves in true generative and creative service of others. ~ A dyad that has been extremely stable for a long period of time may make it very difficult for its members to sum-mon the courage to move on. There may be instances where both mem-bers attempt to move together; such endeavors are subject to the same difficulties that married professionals often face in locating two suitable jobs in the same area. This would detract from the mission-bonded con-gregation's ideal of following the leading of the Spirit into the works most needed by the People of God. To the extent that stable dyads form in religious life, therefore, the community--whether a close-knit intentional community or a mission-based association--may be less able to count on the loyalty of its mem-bers. This is especially true since other social mechanisms are simulta-neously conspiring to keep the dyad an exclusive "twosome." The fol-lowing section will consider the addition of third members to a dyad, and the reasons for the instability of this new living arrangement. The Triad There is a qualitative difference between a dyad and a triad; adding a fourth or fifth member to a group does not change it nearly as much Dyads and Triads as adding the third. ~2 For the first time, it becomes possible in a triad for each group member to have two kinds of relationships with the oth-ers: a direct (A~)C) and an indirect (A~)BtbC) one. In a triad, a majority can out vote an individual member, and it becomes possible for the indi-vidual to envision the group existing after her departure. Division be-comes possible among the members: A and B may share some experi-ence, idea, or interest that C does not, while B and C may have some-thing in common that A does not have. This may lead to shifting alli-ances or interest groups, a situation that was impossible in a dyad. Se-crets, too, become possible in triads, and one member may be excluded, to a greater or lesser extent, from group activities. Also, if the original dyadic partners were unequal in some way, adding a third disrupts the subordinate/superordinate relationship---either by increasing the distance between the superordinate and the two subordinates, or by making it pos-sible for the subordinates to combine against the superordinate. Special group roles are also possible in a triad, which could not ex-ist before. Since "there is no triad in which dissent among two of the elements does not occur from time to time," ~3 the third member may be-come a mediator, who can be impartial because she is not involved with either or also is equally involved with both. Another new role is the Ter-tius Gaudens (Rejoicing Third), who profits by maintaining a division between the other two. There are two ways of benefiting from strife among one's fellow members: one can actively pursue some otherwise forbidden interest while the others are preoccupied, or one can passively allow oneself to be showered with gifts as the contending parties com-pete for one's support. To the extent that the tertius has less personally involved in the dispute, he is in a stronger position than the other two, and it may be to his advantage to perpetuate this situation. Finally, the third member may actually employ the tactic of "divide and conquer"-- producing conflict in order to break up an incipient coalition. The dis-ruptive effects of secrets, ~he exclusion of one or another member, re-joicing thirds and divide and conquer tactics mean that, if the dyad is an especially stable group form, the triad is an especially unstable one. Dyads and Triads in Religious Life Because of the inherent dynamics of dyads and triads, two religious living together (and perhaps also working together in a common minis-try) often find it difficult to attract a third person to join them or to re-tain a newcomer who has come, even if they sincerely desire to do so. Initially, this difficulty may not depend on the personalities of the indi-viduals involved, but simply on the disruptive effects of adding a third 411 / Review for Religious, January-February 1990 to any dyad. Over time, however, the members of stable dyads also de-velop habits and customs which make it even harder for an outsider to gain entrance, or to feel comfortable once she has. This situation has ob-vious ministerial--and communal--implications. A given school or par-ish may wish to attract new religious workers, yet otherwise interested applicants may be put off by the prospect of joining a preexisting duo. Congregations whose formation programs involve sending prospective members to live on mission with other religious may have difficulty find-ing a place where the new affiliate is not liable to be excluded (however inadvertently) by a dyad or scandalized by the divisions in a triad. Fi-nally, some individuals may gain an undeserved reputation for being hard to live or work with: if a religious tries and fails to break into several successive dyads, or if two dyad members are repeatedly joined by third persons who move out after one year, others in the congregation may as-cribe their difficulties to personal defects on their part. If the failed at-tempts also involve repeated ministerial changes on the part of the per-son joining the dyad, his professional resum6 may suffer. Rapid turn-over may also be a source of scandal to outsiders--lay parishioners, for example, or parents at a school--if the new religious lives apart from the preceding two. Conclusions As religious congregations enter the last decade of the twentieth cen-tury, they will be increasingly faced by the issues which dyadic and tri-adic living arrangements raise. Some communities may wish to avoid the ministerial inflexibility that excessively stable dyads tend to create. For-mation directors may need actively to work for the preservation of larger living arrangements in order to avoid the necessity of placing a novice in a triad. After the novitiate, temporarily professed may find their tran-sition to full community membership and ministry even more stressful if they have to adjust to life with a preexisting pair. On the other hand, joining a single religious (and thus creating a dyad) may result in the young religious beginning this extremely stable living arrangement at the outset of her community life. If dyadic living tends to attenuate the group loyalty even of long-term members, it is all the more likely to do so in new arrivals. Finally, as the members of a dyad age, congregations may find it necessary to provide counseling services when death or serious illness causes the breakup of a pair that has been together for several dec-ades. The obvious solution to difficulties raised by dyad and triad living is to expand the local community to four or five members. This is not Dyads and Triads always possible, however. For one thing, the decreasing number of ac-tive members makes it likely that most ministerial situations will con-tain only a very few religious. This would be especially true in areas out-side of the large cities in the traditionally Catholic Northeast and Mid-west. The trend toward apartment living also fosters dyads and triads, since four- or five-bedroom apartments are rare. In some congregations, a substantial proportion of the members are already in dyadic living ar-rangements, and the community government may lack the tradition of authority to request or require that these grbupings be dissolved. This being the case, dyad and triad living will probably be unavoid-able in religious communities, at least to some extent. There are, how-ever, positive steps which the members of a congregation can take to ad-dress the issues which such arrangements raise. First of all, the records of a community should be investigated, in order to determine whether the abstract predictions of sociological theory about dyads and triads are, in fact, reflected in this particular congregation. Are the living arrange-ments and ministerial placements more stable thaff they were twenty years ago? What is the average size of living groups within the congre-gation? How long, on the average, have dyads been together? How long have triads? The members of larger groups? Which type of living arrange-ment appears to be increasing in frequency? Which types are decreas-ing?~ 4 Once trends have been identified, a congregation may wish to initi-ate a communal discernment process to determine what the effects of dy-ads and triads have been for its members, and whether these effects are desirable or not. The members of dyads and triads, or members who have once tried to join such a living arrangement, could be surveyed for their opinions and insights. Two- or three-person living arrangements could become a topic for chapter or pre-chapter discussion and debate among all the members, since whatever policies a congregation adopts in this regard would have to be owned by the members affected. Some of the possible follow-up actions to this community discern-ment could include the establishment or enlargement of a specific coun-seling or facilitation program to work with the members involved in dy-ads and triads. Triads may choose to make regular and frequent use of a facilitator--perhaps on a biweekly or monthly basis--to alert them-selves to and to deal with instances of divide and conquer, rejoicing thirds, or exclusive factions that may arise. Newly-formed triads-- especially those formed of a previous dyad and a singleton--would be in particular need of this service. Job counseling and placement services 50 / Review for Religious, January-February 1990 may help the members of dyads decide when to move on, and, of course, extensive counseling services would be needed for long-standing dyad members when, as will inevitably happen, illness, retirement or death dissolves their pair. The members of a congregations may decide to place a limit on the number of years that can be spent in a given dyad. Since most congregations no longer intervene so actively in the lives of their members, however, special commur~ity-wide discernment and input would be necessary before such a step would be accepted and owned, especially by the dyads involved. The congregation's leadership would also have to provide information about alternatives--both in living and in ministry--for any pair of its members who did agree to separate and move on. The physical resources available to a congregation should also be ex-amined in the light of what is learned about dyads and triads in the com-munity. In the past decade or so, for example, many parish convents have been closed and either demolished or converted to other uses. Some of these may have been of an ideal size to house a group of five or six. Congregations may wish to identify the houses of the "right size" which are still available, and make arrangements to purchase them, if they do not already own them. Any new living space which is created-- apartment buildings that may be purchased or built, large-scale quarters attached to hospitals or retirement centers that may be modified-- should be created with the effects of dyads and triads in mind. Finally, creative social arrangements may be devised to maintain ties to the larger community in the members of dyads and triads. If a con-gregation has small discussion groups as part of its government process, dyad members may be assigned to different groups. For those orders still involved largely in teaching, summer ministry or vacation opportunities can be advertised, and dyad members urged to avail themselves of dif-ferent opportunities. Dyads and triads living in the same area may be in-terfaced, and perhaps exchange members for a week or even longer. As congregations begin to explore the implications of living in groups of two and three, other practices will doubtless be devised. These should be shared with other communities. Number is not destiny. No inevitable social laws require that a dyad be excessively stable, or that a triad dissolve in acrimony and misunder-standing. As the members of small groups become aware of the tenden-cies involved in their living arrangements, they may be able, with some help from the larger congregation, to deal with the problems that arise. It is hoped that this article will be a first step in the process by which Dyads and Triads religious communities harness the dynamics of dyads and triads and con-vert them to truly life-giving forces for the religious life of the future. NOTES ~ See Sandra Schneider, New Wineskins:Re-imagining Religious Life Today (New York: Paulist Press, 1986), pp. 252-255. 2 Georg Simmel, The Sociology ofGeorg Simmel, trans. Kurt H. Wolff, (New York: Free Press, 1950), p. 123. 3 lbid, p. 124. '~ lbid, p. 126. 5 Ibid, p. 123. 6 Ibid, p. 137. 7 Patricia Wittberg, "Transformation in Religious Commitment," REVIEW FOR RELm~OUS 1985, Vol. 44, pp. 161-167. 8 Benjamin Zablocki, The Joyful Community (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980), pp. 116-120. 9 Benjamin Zablocki, Alienation and Charisma (New York: Free Press, 1980), p. 289. ~0 Kristin Wombacher O.P., (n.d.) "American Religious Life Since Vatican II: Change and Continuity." Unpublished paper, p. 245. ~ lbid, p. 235. ~2 Simmel, op cit, p. 139. ~3 lbid, p. 148. 14 Please note that this article does not predict that there will be no stable triads in a congregation, merely that these will be relatively few compared to the number of stable dyads. Large, institutional groups of religious may also remain essentially un-changed over the years. This large group stability would be due, however, not to the abstract effects of number, but to the personal inability of the individual mem-bers to move on, whether because of age, psychological inflexibility, or the simple belief that a given congregational work would not survive were they to leave it. Evaluating Religious Community Costs David E. Meier, S.J. Fr. David Meier, S.J., serves as a financial consultor for the Detroit Province of the Society of Jesus. He is also the treasurer of the Jesuit Community at the University of Detroit. His address is Jesuit Community; Lansing-Reilly Hall; University of De-troit; 4001 W. McNichols; Detroit, Michigan 48221-9987. Point of view is a factor in literary evaluation, an element of artistic per-spective, and a determinant of political affiliation. Point of view is equally an essential criterion for determining what is meaningful in any financial assessment. A number of conditions can be identified which affect the financial data being analyzed. Some of these conditions merely color the data, so that a simple new cast of mind, like the addition of a filter on a camera lens, will provide an improved impression. Another condition may be rather like a fun-house mirror, which distorts the data, often so beyond one's normal frame of mind that the data loses all cogency. 1. Point of View--a Perspective When religious superiors are mystified because they do not find mean-ingful comparisons between per member costs of living in their local com-munities, their point of view is frequently at the heart of their mystery. Failure to advert to their perspective is what leads them to ask, "Why can't we get reliable comparisons between the per member costs at St. Agatha and St. Theresa?" Concern for lifestyle quickly introduces estimates for the amounts of money needed for community support under varied assumptions about a standard of living. Often enough the "common sense" expectations 52 Evaluating Religious Community Costs about a reduction in per diems are contradicted in the reality. Later in this article a number of conditions which merely color data will be examined. These should not be allowed to distract religious su-periors from a key condition which actually distorts the data which enter into their decisions. 2. Full CostDMarginai Cost Distinction Religious superiors should be conversant with the economic distinc-tion between full cost and marginal cost. This is the key condition for avoiding distortion in comparing per member costs for various commu-nity sizes. The effect of this distinction is especially significant when deal-ing with small numbers, say three to forty, which is representative of the size of most local religious communities. This distinction brings eco-nomic discernment down from the clouds to the refectory and the com-mon room. Consider, for example, an education community of thirty members which devotes hours of discussion trying to decide whether it is economi-cally preferable to have ten retired members rive apart in a separate com-munity from the twenty active teachers. Another study tries to make economic sense out of establishing a new community for a few retired members in a parish facility which has more room than is needed by the parish personnel. .The approach to these economic determinations will most often be reduced to measuring the per member cost. And here is where the dis-tortion can arise! Are the per member costs to be measured as full cost or marginal cost units? The difference can be of surprising magnitude. 3. Marginal Cost Marginal cost begins at the very edge of full cost. Whatever is the total cost of providing for the housing, food, personal, institutional, and automobile expenses of a 30 member community constitutes the commu

Issue 49.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1990. ; Religious Life Spirituality The Clericalization of Monasticism =Thomas Merton and the Enneagram Directing the Third Week Volume 49 Number 2 March/April 1990 R~\'u~w~:o~ R~:~.l(mms (ISSN 0034-639X) is published hi-monthly at St. Louis Universily by the Mis-souri Province Educational Institute of Ihe Society of Jesus: Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Blvd. Rrn. 42g: St. Lxmis. MO 6310g-3393. Second-class postage paid at St. b,~uis MO. Single copies $3.50. Subscriptions: United States $15.00 for one year: $28.00 Ibr two years. Other countries: US $20.00 for one year: if airmail. US $35.00 p~r year. For subscription orders or change of address. wrile: Rt~','ll~w I:oR RI~i.IGOUs: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth. MN 55806. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to R~:\'~:w rot R~:u~;mus; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. ©1990 REview For REI,IGIOUS. David L. Fleming, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors Advisory Board David J. Hassel, S.J. Sean Sammon, F.M.S. Mary Margaret Johanning, S.S.N.D. Wendy Wright, Ph.D. Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B. March/April 1990 Volume 49 Number 2 Manuscripts, books f~,r review and correspondence with the editor should he sent to R~:\'~:w vo~ R~:k~;~ous; 3601 I,indell Blvd.; St. la~uis, MO 63108-3393. Cnrrespondence abnut the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.: 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709-1193. Back issues and reprints should be ardered from R~:\'~:w FO;{ R~:LmtOUS; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. I,~mis. MO 63108-3393. "~Out of print" issues are available frnm University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service fiw the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. PRISMS . The desire for new life, new ideas, new expressions, new insights permeates the everyday existence of us all. Modern day advertising and the consumer economy of first world countries continuously search out the ways to sell products, not in terms of real needs, but in terms of in-duced needs for something new. Consumerism builds upon the human desire for the new, while at the same time offsetting the equally strong human tendency to remain comfortably entrenched in the familiar. The Church seasons of Lent and Easter confront us all with our de-sires for the new and with our equally strong tendency to remain firmly entrenched where we are. The dialogue between Nicodemus and Jesus in the third chapter of St. John's Gospel captures well the continuing ex-change between the Christian and God, clearly focused during these Church seasons. Approaching God out of a certain darkness in our lives, we seek new life and new growth, a new understanding of our faith, or a new sense of relationship with God and with neighbor. But when God starts indicating a dying to some familiar life patterns, when God starts pointing the way to "being born anew," we are tempted to laugh it .off, to claim we are "too old" to need that kind of change. Why not a little "renewal," perhaps a little "restoration," or maybe even an attempt to "recapture" past devotion or past grace (charism)? Any of these words seem to allow ias to keep some measure of control, to retain some-thing of the old and familiar, and yet to pray and give God a place. Rebirth--to be born anew--remains the challenge of Lent and Eas-ter. Rebirth means the dying and rising--the pattern of the paschal mys-tery- which we Christians celebrate in the daily Eucharist. More clearly in these Lenten and Easter seasons we come face-to-face with the most traditional faith concept--that it is the Spirit who brings to birth and who gives life, in our continuing personal growth in our life-in-Christ, in the life of our religious congregations, and in the life of our Church both lo-cal and larger. Our personal response to being born anew is taken up in the articles "Directing the Third Week" by Joseph P. Cassidy, S.J. and "The Theme of Joy in the Spiritual Exercises" by Joan Mueller, O.S.F. We are given new insight into our call and our response to new life in the articles "Will the Real Prodigal Son Please Stand Up?" by Christine Ere-iser, O.S.B. and "Redemption and Romantic Melancholy: Thomas Mer-ton and the Enneagram" by Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B. "The Re-demption Kernel" by Dennis J. Billy, C.SS.R., presents a new theologi-cal approach in understanding dying and rising, with special application 161 169 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 to religious life. Robert T. Sears, S.J., in his article "Resurrection Spiri-tuality and Healing the Earth," expands our vision about Jesus' resur-rection affecting the ecology of our whole world andso giving us the re-sponsibility of a new life-healing power. Finally those articles specifically dealing with renewal and transfor-mation in the congregations of women and men religious indicate the ar-eas of present struggle, the history of a sometimes laborious develop-ment, and the proposed costly future of new life. The various authors-- Stephen Tutas, S.M., Charles Reutemann, F.S.C., Anne O'Brien, gsic, and Lora Ann Quinofiez, C.D.Po and Mary Daniel Turner, S.N.D., de N.--invite us into seeing and knowing a life beyond renewal and trans-formation, a birth which only the Spirit can bring about for the future of religious life. May the joy with which the risen Jesus consoles us now become more richly our experience of new life. David L. Fleming, S.J. Resurrection Spirituality and Healing the Earth Robert T. Sears, S.J. Father Robert Sears, S.J., teaches in the Institute of Pastoral Studies at Loyola Uni-versity in Chicago. This article had its origin in a presentation made to the North American Conference for Christianity and Ecology. His address is 5554 S. Wood-lawn Avenue; Chicago, Illinois 60637. Those involved in ecology and those involved in a healing ministry are for the most part on two different tracks. The one is focused on a scien-tific study of evolution and the interdependence of creation, the other on individual hurts with little attention to environment. My own healing min-istry, on the other hand, has led me little by little to concern for the en-vironment. I began with attention on the individual, then was led to see family relationships into past generations as grounding present destruc-tive patterns. And only recently have I become aware that the environ-ment itself is affected by these destructive patterns and needs healing. Several experiences have brought me to this conclusion. In the first place, there is evidence that places are affected by what occurs on them. Barbara Shlemon, noted for her healing ministry, has observed the ongoing destructive influence violence can have on certain places. She felt called to build a healing center in Clearwater, Florida but over a year's time could not find a place. With two others she prayed for guidance and one member thought of Native Americans. They looked into the history of that region and found that it was the location of a war with the Seminole Indians where it is estimated that some 10,000 to 15,000 Seminole Indians died as we took their land. They had a service of reconciliation, asking forgiveness of the Indians for what our ances-tors did then. The very next day an ideal piece of land opened up for 163 "164 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 them! It was as though God would not give the land till reparation was made for that violence. I will speak later of an instance in my experi-ence from Chicago. The civil war Camp Douglas lay between Thirty-first and Thirty-third streets and Cottage Grove. Some 6000 Confeder-ate soldiers died there in inhuman conditions, and when we went there to pray for healing, we found that prime property still overgrown and in ruins. Secondly, we have some experimental evidence that plants at least remember. Cleve Backster, an expert on the psychogalvanic skin re-sponse that is basic to the lie detector, decided one day to attach the elec-trodes to a tropical plant in his office. ~ He wondered if the plant would respond to cutting it. It did, but not as much as he expected. He then thought he would burn its leaves, and even at the thought the graph showed a violent response. The plant seemed to be able to anticipate his intended violence. He then set up a situation where plants could "wit-ness" a destructive action. Six people were selected and given numbers. All but one were instructed on their paper to go into the room, look at the plants, and leave. One was instructed to tear up and stamp on one of two plants in the room and then leave. Electrodes were attached to the remaining "witness" plant, and each person again went into the room. Only the plant "knew" who was responsible! There was no re-sponse for the five innocent persons, but when the culprit went into the room the plant responded vigorously, as if in fear. It seems to have re-membered. 2 Finally, Dr. Kenneth McAII, an English psychiatrist noted for his heal-ing ministry with family systems, was traveling by banana boat over the Bermuda Triangle (a place formed by an imaginary line between Miami, Puerto Rico, and Bermuda where for hundreds of years ships and aircraft had gone down without a trace) when the boat was caught in a terrible storm.3 In escaping south, one of the ship's boilers broke leaving them adrift. In his quiet leisure, he heard a droning outside. It wasn't the crew. Researching, he found that this was the place unfit slaves were thrown overboard so their owners could collect insurance money. As Genesis 4 said of Cain's killing Abel "Your brother's blood cries out to me from the soil," these souls were crying out from the sea. On returning to En-gland, Dr. McAI! got Anglican bishops in various places to celebrate Eucharist for those who lost their lives in an untimely way in that place, and later the Bermuda Anglican bishop did the same. For five years be-tween that celebration (in 1977) and his book (1982), there had been no reported accident in that region. Resurrection Spirituality We are dealing with incidents that are hard to repeat scientifically, but such evidence supports a view of the world as living and responsive to what occurs on it. Much like humans who are God's most developed creatures, the earth seems to be marked by past experience. Can it be healed? What implications might result for the earth if humans under-stood how to assist in this healing? It is my conviction that a deeper un-derstanding of the resurrection of Jesus would help us bring healing not only to humans but also to the earth. I will begin by relating creation-centered spirituality to a focus on resurrection. Resurrection-Centered Spirituality A recent focus on the importance of celebrating creation and joining its creative impulse is the work of Matthew Fox: Creation-centered spiri-tuality (see his Original Blessing: a Primer in Creation SpiritualiO, (Bear & Co. Inc., 1983). Fox sees traditional spirituality (which he terms Fall/ Redemption spirituality as instanced in Augustine, Thomas h Kempis up to Tanqueray) as dualistic, focused on the danger of sensuality and earthiness and on the need for ascetical restraint. He argues for another tradition which he finds in the Yahwist, wisdom writers, lrenaeus, Eck-hart up to Teilhard de Chardin, which is basically positive toward crea-tion. In his view Fall/Redemption spirituality sees little value in science, focuses on original sin and its effects, encourages detachment from the world and moral self-control and awaits the end of the world rather than its transformation. Creation spirituality, on the other hand, welcomes the discoveries of science as revealing the creator, focuses on the blessing of creation and our God-given commission to care for it, moves beyond moralistic negation of human action to a sense of communion with na-ture, and believes in the ultimate goodness and creativity of the cosmos. He wants to move beyond a focus on guilt to a focus on spiritual growth. He presents four stages from the work of Eckhart: befriending creation, befriending darkness, befriending creativity or our inner divinity, and be-friending new creation and universal compassion. I found myself in tune with those goals, but not with Fox's negation of the Fall/Redemption tra-dition. It gradually dawned on me that those very goals are restored to us through the resurrection of Jesus. Let me explain. It was Teilhard who turned our attention first to many of these themes. When he was in the novitiate, he told his director about his de-sire for both spirituality and science, and his wise novice director encour-aged him to pursue both, believing that God would somehow bring them into unity. His focus on evolutign did make theologians suspicious that he was neglecting original sin. In response he wrote an appendix to The 166 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 Phenomenon of Man explaining that evil was discoverable at every level of evolution, even though he chose not to speak of it for the sake of clar-ity, There is the evil of failure and disorder in adjusting and emerging, the evil of decomposition of the present to make room for the new, the evil of solitude and anxiety (especially for humans) in striving for con-sciousness in a dark universe, and the evil of growth itself--the constant struggle to make progress against the inertia and resistance of the pre-sent state. Whether further there is an excess of evil, stemming from an historic tragedy, he declines in that study to say. What he does persua-sively illustrate is that humans emerge as a higher consciousness within an evolving universe filled with seeds of new creation. We must choose, and in choosing we bring creation with us for better or worse. By our choices we develop a human "layer" of evolution, a noosphere, that af-fects everything. We create culture and "history," and we, in turn, are influenced by that history. We need only look at our technological world which drives our days with given hours and our attention with narrowly determined tasks to see how we are formed and informed by our crea-tions. Yes we are faced with new possibilities and creative challenges, but new creation is conditioned by the patterns we have grown accus-tomed to: our compulsion to consume and to live by an ever increasing standard of consumption. What will empower us to change? It is this awareness of historical conditioning that makes me take more seriously than Fox seems to the doctrine of original sin. Granted the doctrine as developed by Augustine needs reconsideration, still its roots are the biblical insight that our evil choices have a history. It is not enough to change our present attitudes because the present is conditioned by the choices made in our past. Our ancestors need healing and the earth affected by our ancestors needs healing. Joy in creation cannot accom-plish the earth's healing alone. We need redemption, yet a redemption that does not separate us from the earth but empowers us to purify the earth and bring it into wholeness. Redemption must be more than per-sonal. It must extend to the whole of creation. The resurrection of Jesus changed his sinful, unreliable disciples into a powerful community of com-passion. Can we expand our view of the resurrection to include its power to restore the earth? Let us see. Stages of Salvation History Both Freud and Jung worked on the assumption that the growth of the individual in a speeded up way goes through the stages of evolution-- from emergence out of water to the unfolding of human physical and psy-chological life. This evolutionary view need not be seen as contrary to Resurrection Spirituality/167 creation, since God's creativity is always required. It simply describes how God creates. What I have found is that human spiritual growth also recapitulates the stages of salvation history, and it is only in light of sal-vation history that the resurrection as its culmination can be fully under-stood. I have found five such stages culminating in the death/resurrec-tion of Jesus as the goal of the process: initial faith (Yahwist), familial faith (Elohist/Deuteronomist), individuating faith (Exilic prophets and Job), communitarian faith (foreseen in Isaiah 53, first lived in Jesus) and mission faith (revealed in Pentecost).4 Let us begin with individuating faith. Ezekiel 18 cites the saying: "You have heard it said that the fathers have eaten sour grapes and the children's teeth are set on edge." It then goes on to say: "That will no longer be said in Israel, for the children are mine as well as the fathers." They had been living by a so-called "conditional covenant" that af-firmed: "if you keep my law, then you will be my people." That cove-nant, Yahweh affirms, they have broken (see also Jr 31:32), and it is ab-rogated. Yet in this breakdown there is a breakthrough of a promised "new covenant" when Yahweh says: "I will put my Spirit within you and make you live by my statutes" (Ez 36:27). lndividuating faith, then, is a breakdown of human effort and a turning of each individual to God's initiative. I experienced this personally through a period of depression while studying theology in Germany. I began studying Freud to get some understanding, but was still depressed. Then one author led me to Isaiah 43:18 (written during the Exile): "remember not the events of the past ¯ . . See I am doing something new." In other words, healing would come from God's present creativity, not from my efforts to re.pair the past. From that central breakthrough (Israel's and my own), I saw that mere keeping the law (familial faith) was no longer enough. In that stage "The sins of the fathers/mothers are handed down to four generations (and more in my experience), the blessings to a thousand" (see Dt 5:9f, Ex 20:5-6 and so forth). In other words the patterns of history are handed down for better or worse till there is a collapse of human efforts and an inbreaking of God's new creation. Even before that concentration on hu-man cooperation through law, there is (in the Yahwist, Gn 2-3, 12:1-5 and others who wrote in the time of David) a focus on trusting Yahweh in order to find life. That universal trust, however, gave rise to intermar-riage and distortion of faith in Yahweh (as it can do whenever we lose the specificity of our faith) and so encountered the prophetic challenge of the Elohist and Deuteronomist. We see the result of even this human "161~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 effort in their Exile. Once we turn to Yahweh's spirit ourselves, we need to find the spirit in others. This we do by the forgiveness of enemies which I believe we find first only in the ministry of Jesus, though it was foreseen and for-gotten in Isaiah 53--the suffering servant. This stage of unconditional forgiveness allows us to remain faithful even to unfaithful partners (as Jesus did with Israel) and so to die that others might live. It forms the basis for the compassionate community that Matthew Fox envisioned. And finally, the actual gift of life in union with God releases a new communal reality through the Pentecostal power of the Spirit. Through the Spirit Jesus' death/resurrection builds a living, self-giving commu-nity that is open to all and to all creation. I contend that it is through this transformation of humanity that ultimately the earth itself will be trans-formed. The ground and goal of this development is God who raised Christ from the dead. The norm of who God is is not creation alone, but the life/death and resurrection of Jesus. "Who sees me sees the Father" (Jn 14:9). God's suffering love surrendered his own Son for us, and through Jesus' response of self-surrender the Spirit of self-giving love is sent and revealed. God is revealed as a community of self-giving love in this world-forming event. This pattern of stages is fully revealed in Jesus, but is lived out cy-clically. Individually or communally we can have a breakthrough to a new stage but then regress to a previous stage. This, I believe, is what happened in the Church. With the failure to convert Israel, the message of Christ went to the gentiles who were not prepared with the solidarity of a thousand year history. The gifts of the Spirit led to factions as we see in the Corinthian community and in the Didache. The central gift of the Spirit of forgiving love that builds the self-giving community was su-perseded by the need for institution and discipline (my "familial stage"). Structure and control replaced healing as focus of attention. As in Jesus' time, I believe we are again emerging from the familial stage of development to recognize again our need for forgiveness and healing. Healing the Human Family In order to understand the healing brought by the resurrection, we need to look at sin in history. The Yahwist, who first wrote of the sin of our original ancestors, did so by first looking at the sin of his day (the time of David). It was a time of domination and exploitation, of loss of faith in Yahweh because of the multiple marriages of kings like Solo-mon, of alienation of families torn by strife. If Yahweh was all good, Resurrection Spirituality 169 how could this happen? The Yahwist concluded (see Gn 2-3) that ~t was due to a freely chosen loss of faith in Yahweh. Humans were the culmi-nation of Yahweh's creation, formed from the earth, given the power to name (and so direct) creation and the commission to subdue the earth and bring it to order. All creation served humans, as humans served God. But they chose their own way and not only did they hide from Yahweh, but they also blamed and were alienated from one another. God gave as pun-ishment that Adam would dominate his wife and the woman would cling to her man, and the earth would be hard to till and not graciously yield crops. The Yahwist was symbolically telling the story of sin. Humans were given care for the earth, but when they turned from God, the source of creativity, they could only use power, dominance, and force. Further, this beginning continued in history. Cain doubted his accept-ability, envied and then killed Abel. Domination and enmity, social and sexual sin were handed down generation to generation to the Yahwist's own day. His solution was a return to trust in Yahweh as Abraham did (Gn 12: 1-5). But as we have seen, Israel proved incapable of such trust. God's Spirit was promised "to make them keep God's Law," but cen-turies passed. A similar envy and hatred of one gifted by God led to Je-sus' death. The heritage of sin exploded around him. The earth quaked and shook the foundations, as though being exorcized from an ancient wound. What began its healing was not a simple trust in God's good-ness. It was Jesus' willingness to forgive and trust God while suffering the effects of human sin. Such generational patterns, we find, change only when they are understood, compassionately borne, and forgiven. This is how we can view Jesus' resurrection. As human he inherited his nation's sinful temptations (see his baptism "to fulfill all justice" (Mt 3: 14-5) and his temptations which were like those of Israel). Yet he re-sponded with a surrendered trust in God. Under God he showed he had "authority" over storm and sea, and over the fig tree. Yet he freely bore the hatred of the Jewish leaders and Romans. His death culminated a life of trust in God, and through his resurrection he "sent" the Spirit to con-tinue this new life with his disciples. What Adam was called to and lost by distrust, Christ restored not on the basis of the old creation, but by the "new creation" through his resurrection. The world is restored to God's favor not by a return to the past (creation), but by a reconciling call from the future--the resurrection. It is important to understand the resurrection as such a restoration in this world. The Resurrection Firstly, the resurrection is an event in this world. It is not uncom- 170 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 mon to imagine the resurrection as Jesus' reward.apart from this world. He has made it and motivates us to try harder. Scripture presents a very different view. Peter's sermon in Acts points to the gift of the Holy Spirit as the sign that Jesus has been made "Lord and Messiah" (Ac 2:36). The resurrection meant that Jesus was made Lord over the whole earth. As Paul put it: "God . . . put all enemies under his feet" so that he in turn can subject all to God "that God may be all in all" (I Co 15:28). This is expressed in the earliest Creed: "Jesus Christ is Lord" (Ph 2:11). Far from separating Jesus from the world, the resurrection unites him to the world in a new sovereign way to bring everything to its intended goal of the kingdom of God. Secondly, the resurrection is a now event. A second misconception is that the resurrection is a past event rewarding Jesus. In the resurrec-tion Jesus returns to God and opens creation to union with God. Since God's Time is an eternal now, the resurrection is also an eternal now. That means it touches all time and all space. It affects the heart of every creature with a deepened and more absolute hope. It is not a particular event that we canlocate in a particular space and time. It is an event that transcends our concept of space and time, and is universally available if we but call upon the Lord. Thirdly, it is not merely spiritual but also bodily. All the apparitions point to bodily aspects: eating fish, touching his side or clinging to him, seeing him though some doubted. The resurrection is, as Teilhard might say, a new phylum in our world, the basis for building all believers into a new Body, a new family that is based not on blood ties or cultural ties, but on faith in Jesus as Lord and on the power of God's Spirit. Since it is a bodily event, it also penetrates the depths of bodiliness and so of the earth. As Colossians says, "It has pleased God to make absolute full-ness reside in him, and by means of him to reconcile everything in his person, both on earth and in the heavens, making peace through the blood of his cross. "( !: 19-20). Fourthly, therefore, in Jesus' resurrection the whole of creation has a new beginning, a new creation. This is the ultimate ground of spiritual healing. Spiritual healing is not simply a repairing of wounds, like re-parenting because of wounds from one's parents. It is actually creating anew. As Isaiah 43 taughtme: "Do not look at what is behind, behold I make all things new." I realized that healing came from looking at God's ever present creativity, not at one's problems. God's love heals our basic distrust. God's love gives us power to forgive rather than re-bel against our heritage in the familial faith stage. I have come to see Resurrection Spirituality that Jesus' resurrection restores our link to the creativity of God. He is the 'new Adam" (1 Co 15:22), the ground of our new family in God. He is also the one who fulfills God's command to Adam--increase and multiply, subdue the earth and bring it into order. As Lord, Jesus has this power to create anew in right order. It was Teilhard who called our attention to three basic principles of ongoing creation or evolution: differentiation, increasing interiority, and deepened community. Every new stage of evolution--molecules to life to sensation to thought--shows increased complexity or differentiation, increased self-activity or freedom, and all this in a total unity. If resur-rection is the final point of creation, a new creation from God, does it show these principles to the highest degree? It does. The Spirit from God gives each a "different" gift "for the building of the body." Differen-tiation and community are both increased as we see in the free sharing with the community that occurred in response to the Spirit in Acts. And the Spirit frees us to our deepest truth. The resurrection is a life at work in our deepest depths calling us through intimacy with Jesus, the Spirit, and our loving Creator. Finally, it is through sharing in the resurrected life of Jesus that we share Jesus' Lordship and power to heal. The miracles of Jesus (show-ing his power over materiality) are expressions of the same power that raised Jesus from the dead. We are to do "even greater works" (Jn 14:12). Jesus' power over the storm at sea (Mt 14:22-33) and over the fig tree (Mt 21:18-22) are not presented as unique to him. Jesus com-plains about their "little faith" and says if they had faith as a mustard seed they could say to the mountain "go into the sea," and it would obey. "If we die with Christ," Paul says in 2 Timothy 2:11-12, "we shall also live with him; if we hold out to the end we shall also reign with him." Andagain in Romans 5:i7: "If death began its reign through one man because of his offense, much more shall those who receive the overflowing grace and gift of justice [grace from Jesus' resurrection] reign through the one man, Jesus Christ." The disciples are to share Je-sus' rule which extends not only to believers but to the whole world (the whole universe). We share this rule not by our own power but as chan-nels of the Spirit--the resurrected power of Jesus, 'for without me you can do nothing" (Jn 15:5). Thus, in the scriptural view, the gifts that were meant for humans from the beginning of creation--union with God, rule over the earth that would respond fruitfully, partnership between men and women and the power to bless their offspring--were lost through Adam and Eve's sin 179 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 but restored through the death/resurrection of Jesus. We are to live now in the power of the resurrection or new creation, not just by union with world creativity. Resurrection differs from creation in that it is centered in a personal relation to Jesus (whether explicitly confessed or implic-itly lived through love) and has at least the following characteristics: a commitment beyond feeling (as revealed in Jesus' death in fidelity to God), creative community beyond failure (as seen in his disciples' re-newed community), wholeness beyond perceived disintegration (as seen in their power to heal), and the ability to face death through trust in God's indestructible life. All these are qualities of Jesus' resurrection Spirit as seen in Scripture. But the central difference, in my view, is that creation focuses on the beginning, unaffected by historical choices (an "original blessing"), whereas resurrection restores a new beginning by forgiving and healing actual historical choices and their effects. The stages that Matthew Fox finds in spiritual growth (befriending creation, befriending darkness, accepting inner divinity, cocreativity) almost par-allel the historical stages I discovered (trust and familial being creation, individuating faith opening to darkness, communitarian releasing crea-tivity in relationships, and mission caring for all and the earth). Only he omits the historical grounding. What Jesus' resurrection does is make his-torically real those goals. Jesus took our death-bringing choices on him-self, and in God empowered a new beginning for those who believe and receive forgiveness. All creation "waits" for that freedom of the chil-dren of God, Paul says in Romans 8:20. It is consigned to futility (or emp-tiness) for the sake of that hope. This resurr._ection power is already at work in us (Col 3:1 ). How can it help us become instruments of healing the earth? Healing the Earth If we are meant to live by the power of the resurrection to reconcile, order, and heal, we need to know the principles of such a life. Firstly, we need to be oriented to Jesus' victory. The resurrection brings creation into union with God. Jesus became human and since all humans are united with all creation, his death/resurrection brings crea-tion into union with God's own life. This cannot be lost. The universe is fundamentally saved though we cannot be sure how this transforma-tion will actually work itself out. Healing prayer is grounded in this truth, and seeks Jesus' guidance for how to cooperate with the saving of the earth. Secondly, our power to envision and imagine needs to be trans-formed by this vision of God's kingdom. What we believe affects what Resurrection Spirituality / 173 comes to be. Belief is not a surface act of mind alone, but also includes feeling, will, and imagination. Jesus' initial proclamation was "Repent and believe the good news." Repent meant "change your mind, believe the good news." Healing prayer is often unsuccessful because we do not expect and envision the hoped for change. For example, we might pray for a friend to be healed of an illness, yet go on complaining about how he or she suffers. We are attending to the sickness, not envisioning her getting well and thanking God for it. The conversion we most basically need is to trust God's love totally, We are channels of God's creative light, but if our minds are filled with worries and fears, what we are ac-tually believing is that the worst will happen. It is a spiritual law: what we believe is what we cause. We need God to change our faith, to help us believe that God wants and can bring good to the earth, and that we are given the power to pray for this. An example may help. How many times have we not prayed for good weather with little effect? Perhaps we did not have sufficient faith for such a large project. We may have to start smaller--say with our gar-den- in order to be convinced about the power of such prayer. Or per-haps we don't really believe we have such power with the weather. "That's God's domain," we may have been told and believed. Jesus' disciples were shocked when Jesus commanded the storm to be still, but he c6rrected them for their little faith (Mk 4:40). A number of cases show that we do have marvelous power under God. In a talk on healing the earth (given at the annual conference of the Association of Christian Therapists, San Diego, 1982) Barbara Shlemon told of a prayer for just that purpose. She and several others were giving a healing retreat for sev-eral hundred Native Americans in Montana when a tornado was spotted heading directly toward their camp. Not wanting anyone hurt they thought of disbanding, but decided first to pray for guidance. The way they were graced was to ask the Bishop to say a prayer for God to turn aside the tornado and let only a slight rain come to water the ground. Al-though he was not used to this kind of prayer, the Bishop complied, and then went on with the healing Mass. That is exactly what happened. Only a slight rain fell. The incident may not have received notice if a journal-ist had not been present, with the result that the next morning's head-lines read "Tornado divides and misses a healing service and then comes together again." Needless to say, the Bishop was quite impressed (he had said after the Mass "One does need common sense"). Many other examples could be given.5 Thirdly, what heals is God's love. The more we are filled with God's 174 / Review for Religious. March-April 1990 love and forgiveness, the better channels we will be for all sorts of heal-ing, including that of the earth. If we harbor resentment or judgments against others, we block the power of God's healing. Many instances could be given, but the one that comes to mind was given by Fr. Jim Burke, O.P. in a retreat. He was in a retreat where people shared con-version experiences and one sister spoke of getting to like Detroit after harboring a dislike for many years. Fr. Jim felt her words like a knife. Whenever he thought of bad examples of cities, Detroit came first to mind. In the repentance service he asked forgiveness for his condemn-ing attitude toward Detroit and asked for God's view. The result was that in the next few years he had fifty invitations for missions or retreats in Detroit whereas before he had almost none. Forgiving love opened the way for God's love to work. As we pray for the earth, we need to ask for God's forgiveness of those who exploit the earth, and for ourselves who in many ways have hurt the earth unawares. It is not resentment and bitterness that heals, nor discouragement, but forgiving love and faith. Fourthly, we have found that blocks may often be from the past both in individual healing and in healing the earth. As I mentioned earlier, places seem to remember what has happened on them and similar evil seems to continue. A group of us were led to have a Mass said for the civil war dead from Camp Douglas in Chicago, and to pray for the camp grounds. We found through history that some 6,000 Confederate soldiers died there in inhuman conditions, and the place of the actual camp (be-tween Thirty-first and Thirty-third and Cottage Grove in Chicago, a very suitable piece of land for building) was still a waste land after more than 100 years! We felt many of the dead did find release. We wondered what affect it might have on the land, and now three years later we passed by and saw a new housing complex being built there. I mentioned Dr. McAll's prayer for the Bermuda Triangle, and the five year freedom from incidents. He has many similar examples. We have been led to pray for such events as the Alamo (and the enmity between Spanish and Whites affected by that battle), the different sides in the Northern Ire-land dispute, several areas in Chicago with Mafia and Satanic connec-tions, divisions in Livingston, Kentucky, and similar areas. It may well be that the root of a present misuse or exploitation stretches back to an original hurt (like the killing of the Seminole Indians), or to injustice per-petrated by the Church (like the witch trials of the sixteenth and seven-teenth centuries). In sum, we have found that the same principles that apply to healing of persons apply also to healing the earth. Psalm 115:116 says: "Heaven Resurrection SpiritualiO, / 175 is the heaven of the Lord, but the earth he has given to the children of men." Nature is also given into our care as well as other persons. The earth is given to us to learn to love. As children teach us our sin by how they are affected by it, so God seems to let the earth be devastated so we will see our own inner devastation that causes it. But Jesus has come to restore to us power through his resurrection and Lordship to pray for its healing. Whether we will choose to restore the earth or exploit it has been given to us to decide. Implications for Us What are some implications for our own care for the earth'? Firstly, true prayer is helped by being informed.6 Agnes Sanford found out about the San Andreas fault in order to pray for it, how the earth must swell to create new land, how a division of the.earth falls along that fault. She prayed not to stop movement (that would have caused problems else-where), but that the tremors would be many and slight so that no destruc-tion would occur. If we want God to heal the earth, it helps to know what to pray for. Should we pray for the leaders of nations to realize the im-portance of their land? For the leaders of firms and their relation to the health of the environment? Ask God for guidance. Secondly, we need to grow in awareness of the power of healing prayer. Each of us will be led differently to experience God's love and forgiveness, and begin to pray for small things. Rest in God's love, en-vision that love and light radiating out into your selected place (a flower, garden, bird, and so forth). Envision with love and gratitude the healed condition you anticipate (a healthy flower, garden, and so forth), and fi-nally thank God. If nothing happens, you can check a number of things: your faith (are you convinced God wants this? that God wants to respond to your prayer?), your attunement to God's plan for this area, its appro-priateness with regard to other things (for example, not to pray for a good day for a picnic when the earth needs rain). God is infinite creative love and Jesus has been given "all power" to bring the earth to order. We are Jesus' instruments, so prayer will be effective if we have learned to become channels. Thirdly, you may expand your concern to some place like a city or church. Agnes Sanford was led by one lady to pray for cities. You may pick out city hall (quite a challenge in Chicago, but we have been try-ing). Visualize God's love bringing peace to that place, reconciling dif-ferences. We can waste our energy complaining because what we attend to is what we cause. We need to develop a constructive attitude of trust in God's Spirit and pray with a vision of peace being given. "176 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 There may be some particular issue that you are led to pray for. One of our group worked at Edison, and found his particular office rife with competition and discord. He did not even want to go to work. As we prayed we were led to pra}, for Thomas Edison himself who had no re-ligious faith and was disillusioned and angered by conflicts and compe-tition around the use of electricity. We prayed for him to be healed and opened to trust in God, to forgive and be forgiven and for the corpora-tion he began to be freed from that attitude. There has been relief in my friend's office, but long term change can require ongoing prayer. Or we may be concerned about the loss of small farms and the ex-ploitative policies of insurance companies that have received the land. We may not know how to.pray for such complicated issues and can best leave them in God's hands, always ready to do what we are led to do. We can pray God's light into these lands, and God's protection. I was asked by some members of the Association of Christian Therapists to go out to their land and bless it, and pray for any traumatic events (Native American or otherwise) that occurred on it. I was more than happy to do that knowing the many instances where such prayer has helped, though in most cases we don't see the results for some time. Conclusion As Psalm 115 says: "Heaven belongs to the Lord alone, but he gave the earth to humans." We have misused it, appropriated it for ourselves, as the parable of the vineyard says, and even killed God's Son, but we have not been left without resources for healing. Through the power of the Holy Spirit in Jesus' resurrection we can cooperate in God's ongo-ing creative work. We pray daily: 'Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven." In heaven God rules. On earth we pray that God may also bring life, peace, order and justice, but it cannot be done except through many who make themselves channels of God's love. Agnes Sanford likes to use the example of the light bulb. God is the power source, Jesus the transformer, but there will be no light unless we light bulbs are wired to Jesus and ultimately to our triune God. Further, one light can light a room, but if we want to light a house or a city ,we need many bulbs. God has entrusted the earth to us and given us the en-ergy. We still have to understand how creation works and how it is healed, and we need to become ever more fully united with God's crea-tive power. Resurrection Spirituality / "177 NOTES ~ See Peter Tompkins and Christopher Bird, The Secret Life of Plants (N.Y.: Avon Books, 1973), chapter I. -' Ibid, pp. 24-25. Backster admitted the plant could have picked up guilt feelings in the culprit, but since it was for science he likely had none. 3 See his Healing the Famil\' Tree (London: Sheldon Press, 1984), pp. 59-61. 4 See my "Trinitarian Love as Ground of the Church," Theological Studies, vol. 37, no. 4, Dec. 1976, pp. 649-679 where I develop this argument, and "Healing and Family Spiritual/Emotional Systems," Journal of Christian Healing, vol. 5, no. I (1983), pp. 10-23, where I apply the five stages to healing family systems. 5 See Agnes Sanford, Creation Waits (Plainfield, N.J.: Logos International, 1978) for several of her examples. 6 See W. R. Parker and E. St. Johns Dare, Prayer Can Change Your Life (Prentice- Hall Inc., 1957) where they give results from three self-chosen control groups-- prayer only, therapy only, and prayer and therapy--and found that the prayer and therapy group improved by far the most. and prayer alone the least! They concluded that psychology (understanding) was needed to guide the prayer. Bang! Bang! "Yeah!" The miniature cowboy (or was it a cop? Scandalous play, whichever) said to his tiny victim, who wouldn't stay still, "'When you're really dead, you're dead for life." And I thought of a seed in the ground And a stone rolled away in a garden and "Out of the mouths of babes." Clarita Felhoelter 3105 Lexington Road Louisville, KY 40206 The Third National LCWR-CMSM Assembly Stephen Tutas, S.M. Father Stephen Tutas, S.M., finished his term as President of the Conference of Ma-jor Superiors of Men Religious at the time of the August 1989 national assembly about which he writes. Previously he had served as the Superior General of the So-ciety of Mary (Marianists) in Rome. His address is Marianist Formation Center; 22622 Marianist Way; Cupertino, California 95014, The Leadership Conference of Women Religious and the Conference of Major Superiors of Men Religious held a joint national assembly in Lou-isville, Kentucky, August 19-23, 1989. Over one thousand participated in this historic discussion of the future of religious life. What was spe-cial about this meeting was that it was a gathering of leaders of the esti-mated 130,000 women religious and 30,000 men religious at the service of the Church in the USA and beyond. What was also significant was that the discussion of the religious life of the future was placed in the context of our Church and society. It was not an in-house discussion, but a reflection on the future of the world and the Church and the response of religious to these anticipated changes. We viewed the challenging movie "Global Brain" and listened to stimulating presentations and reactions. Besides the women and men re-ligious, Mrs. Donna Hanson spoke from the perspective of a lay person while Archbishops Thomas Kelly and Pio Laghi represented the official local and universal Church. The greatest strength of the assembly, how-ever, was the quality of sharing that took place at the 119 round tables as the participants expressed their thoughts about where they are going-- and where they want to go--as women and men religious at the service of the Church in the USA. 178 The Third National LCWR-CMSM Assembly / 17'9 Charles Reutemann, F.S.C., described the process well: ". not so much of identifying something new but of grasping firmly the signifi-cant strands that have emerged and are emerging over the past twenty-five years . " Reports of the table discussions were gathered and col-lated, leading up to consensus on ten "transformative elements for re-ligious life in the future." And because the most important part of any meeting is what comes afterwards, the last session of the assembly was devoted to a table-sharing of planned follow-up. As Robert Schreiter, C.PP.S., pointed out ". if we are to be faithful to our tasks in lead-ership, and engage in more than a maintenance ministry, then look into the future we must." The assembly was an inspiring experience of looking back with grati-tude and of looking forward with hope, anticipating changes in the world around us. For me, it was another occasion to thank God for the grace of living at this time in history. As the assembly came to a close and I completed my term of service as President of CMSM, I looked ahead to a new phase in my life. I continue a very active ministry with women and men religious of many communities besides my own Marianist com-munity, and I also pray and reflect with many diocesan clergy and laity in the context of spiritual direction and retreats. Accordingly, my first act after the meeting was, as always, to pray and reflect about what I had seen and heard. Then I decided to offer this summary to others. When the tri-conference commission on religious life and ministry met for the first time this past February, two tasks were determined: the clarification of the identity of religious life and the promotion of collabo-rative ministry. Both objectives were emphasized at the LCWR-CMSM National Assembly. In fact, they seemed to be fused into one in the un-derstanding that religious in the future will be recognized precisely by their commitment to collaborative ministry in the local church. In this regard I found the observation made by Charles Reutemann especially significant: "Of special interest today is the phenomenon of lay partici-pation in founding charism., what seems to be demanded today is that bonding between lay and religious be one of a common spirituality, a ba-sic Christian spirituality of mission modified by the unique focusing of a congregation's special founding charism . . . a shared vision focused on a common ministry." To be ecclesial means to b~ collaborative, to have a sense of belong-ing to a larger community, to recognize that each person brings a unique gift to the group as a whole. Religious life, with the emphasis on spe-cific charisms, is built on the realization that each person is gifted and Review for Religious, March-April 1990 that a dynamic community is one that calls forth the gifts of every mem-ber. What religious try to do in their own communities--recognize and affirm giftedness--is applicable to the larger Christian community. Donna Hanson used the image of a relay "where people work together helping each other toward the community's common goal." Relays "re-quire planning, patience, and practice. Relays demand teamwork . . . could we also discover new ways of supporting our team members in their vocations to marriage, the single state, religious life and ordina-tion?" What will be the specific contribution of religious life to the Church of tomorrow? The LCWR-CMSM assembly gave the strongest endorse-ment to three features: women and men religious will be prophetic, con-templative, with a preferential option for the poor. These are not exclu-sive properties of religious. All the baptized are called to belong to a Church that is prophetic, contemplative, with a preferential option for the poor. Donna Hanson called for a new agenda: "We on the relay team must expand our Church agenda from a preoccupation with A, B, C-- abortion, birth control, and celibacy--to a more comprehensive com-mitment to D, E and F-- debt, environment, and family." This church-in-the-world emphasis is very promising for religious life and for the Church as a whole as we move into the twentieth cen-tury. It was good to hear Archbishop Laghi speak about a Church in the USA that is vibrant and still growing, and to hear him echoing the words of Pope John Paul II about religious life at the heart of the mystery of the Church. He reaffirmed the desire of religious to be on the cutting edge and to be prophetic and also challenged religious to find new mea-sures to meet the needs of ttiese new times. While some focus on the de-cline of numbers and the aging of religious, Archbishop Laghi chose to remind the religious that much more remains to be done. The climate of the meeting was remarkably positive, but not unreal-istic. Recognizing that attitudinal change is always difficult, the partici-pants saw the need for intensified ongoing formation as we move into the twentieth century. They also saw that the most significant changes would take place in communities and in the Church through incultura-tion. Change does take place most dramatically through the incorpora-tion of new members. There is need to reach out more effectively to blacks, native Americans, Hispanics, Asiatics, and also to others who are at present marginalized from church and society. But Robert Schrei-ter also issued a warning: "American Catholics' demand for a partici-patory model of leadership in parishes, coupled with the growth of lay The Third National LCWR-CMSM Assembly ministries, will result in a great deal of energy expended on intramural strife over issues of power and authority . There is great tension involved in striving to build a Church that calls forth the gifts of every member. Shared responsibility is a marvelous ideal, but not easily realized. But as I reflect on this, I am encouraged by looking at where we have come from and where we are going today. Our hope for the future is always based on our experience of God at work among us in the past. The tri-conference retirement project is a great ex-ample of ecclesial collaboration. The tri-conference commission on re-ligious life and ministry is a promising new structure in the Church. The ongoing collaboration between LCWR and CMSM regionally and nation-ally is an important witness. Looking forward to the year 2010 means that we are dealing with four five-year plans. Only a great belief in the value of religious life and the power of the Spirit at work among us enables religious to accept the mission to be messengers of hope in the Church today. The assembly statement was a commitment: "We will nourish these transformative elements for religious life in the future." They were ten in number, arranged in the order of priorities. The first three are these: 1. Prophetic Witness Being converted by the example of Jesus and the values of the gos-pel, religious in the year 2010 will serve a prophetic role in church and in society. Living this prophetic witness will include critiquing societal and ecclesial values and structures, calling for systemic change and be-ing converted by the marginalized with whom we serve. 2. Contemplative Attitude Toward Life Religious in the year 2010 will have a contemplative attitude toward all creation. They will be attentive to and motivated by the presence of the sacred in their own inner journeys, in the lives of others, and through-out creation. Recognizing contemplation as a way of life for the whole Church, they will see themselves and their communities as centers of spiri-tuality and the experience of God. 3. Poor and Marginalized Persons as the Focus for Ministry Religious in 2010 will be investing their resources in direct service with and advocacy for structural change on behalf of the poor and margi-nalized. They will minister where others will not go. Their own listen-ing to and learning from the poor and marginalized will shape all aspects of their lives. The other transformative elements, without commentary, are: 4. Spirituality of Wholeness and Global Interconnectedness Review for Religious, March-April 1990 5. Charism and Mission as Sources of Identity 6. Change of the Locus of Power 7. Living with Less 8. Broad-based, Inclusive Communities 9. Understanding Ourselves as Church 10. Developing Interdependence Among People of Diverse Cultures. While all ten are important, the first three received the strongest sup-port from the assembly. Preliminary to being a prophetic witness is the openness to conver-sion. It is interesting that religious are calling themselves to a continu-ous change of attitude. This change will come about as religious reflect on the example of Jesus and the values of the gospel. I found the words of Graciela Volpe, R.S.C.J., very helpful: "By their charismatic and prophetic vocati6n, religious men and women are called to capture and interpret the signs of the times, the demands of God in each historical moment. This requires letting oneself be led by the Spirit, opening to the Spirit of God, an entrance on the road of discernment, a humble and sin-cere search for the call of God in each situation in the complexity of events. ' ' It is also interesting to note the closing words of the first transfor-mative element. People are converted not only by meditating on the gos-pel, but also by associating with the marginalized with whom they serve. In the third transformative element, we are reminded that listening to and learning from the poor and the marginalized will shape all aspects of our lives. Many of us are just beginning to learn what this means. But as any-one learns and shares, others in the community also learn. Perhaps this is the most striking feature of this transformative ele-ment and in fact of all the priorities, namely, that being prophetic is not something peculiar to religious life. The entire Church is called to be pro-phetic. Religious recognize that they are called to contribute their aware-ness of what it means to be prophetic. Their mission is to lead by exam-ple. This is what it means to be on the cutting edge. Religious are called to be outspoken in word and in lifestyle. This call to be prophetic prompts two basic questions: How do we critique societal--and ecclesial--values and structures? How do we call for and facilitate systemic change? Charles Reutemann commented: "As we look at religious life, in its lifestyle and varied ministries, and the spirituality which motivates it, can we say that we need more than ever to be prophetic, to continue to offer a radical criticism of the social and political injustices in our society, in housing, schooling, racism, and so The Third National LCWR-CMSM Assembly / "11~3 forth, and to bring a contemporary vision of the beatitudes and gospel message that will energize a confused and disheartened people?" Being prophetic goes hand in hand with being contemplative. It is important to note that the contemplative attitude we want to develop as religious communities and as Church is toward all creation. We see the need to step back from contemporary activism even while being intensely apostolic. We need to be attentive to the presence of the sacred first of all in our own journeys, and then in the lives of others. As we see God at work in our own lives, we are able to see God at work in the lives of others. Our awareness of how God is at work among us is the key to both ministry and community. Contemplation is a way of life for the entire Church. But religious, individually and corporately, are called to be centers of spirituality in the Church and to be expert in being able to share the experience of God. Once again we see that religious life in the future is to be characterized not so much by what religious do, as by how religious live. In being prophetic and contemplative, religious are inspired to reach out to the poor and to the marginalized. This will become more and more the focus of ministry. Graciela Volpe reminded us of the assertion of Le-onardo Boff: "A Copernican Revolution has been produced in the Church, whose.significance goes beyond the Latin American ecclesial context, and concerns the universal Church. This option signifies the most important pastoral-theological transformation which has occurred since the Protestant Reformation of the sixteenth century. With it a new socio-historical place is defined, from which the Church wishes to be present in society and construct herself, namely, in the midst of the poor, the new subjects of history." But Graciela also reminded us that ". the option for the poor is being viewed with suspicion, obstacles are be-ing put in its way and sometimes it is condemned. The Christian base communities begin not to be trusted. A surge of neo-conservatism is be-ing felt within our Church." While the Christian community must be concerned about everyone, religious serve to remind the Church not to forget the poor and the margi-nalized. I found it especially challenging to note that religious in the fu-ture will minister where others will not go! Direct service with the poor and advocacy of structural change on behalf of the poor are already be-coming more and more characteristic of contemporary religious life. Again, Graciela Volpe shared her experience in commenting that "this mission of Jesus was eminently concrete. Jesus lived it in a conflic-tual context, fighting against sin and for the human person, especially 11~4 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 the poor. To follow Jesus today implies for us the consciousness that we also are supposed to live his mission in concrete historical situations, cer-tainly conflictual ones, 'in an ongoing struggle against sin which mani-fests itself in concrete political, economic, and social structures." While Robert Schreiter challenged us with the observation that "communities now have much rhetoric about the poor, but generally pursue a middle-class lifestyle" Charles Reutemann rightly pointed out that "it would be impossible to have lived religious life for the past twenty years with-out being aware of the intense focusing on the concerns of the poor, the option for the poor." The Church of tomorrow cannot be exclusive or closed. It must be recognized as compassionate and welcoming. The role of religious life is to help build a Church that calls forth the gifts of every member, a Church which recognizes the potential and actual giftedness of every mem-ber, a Church which continually restates the universal call to holiness and mission, a Church which gathers together God's sons and daughters as co-disciples. INCARNATION While sage and sorcerer Sought salvation in words, And high priests strove in blood To reverse man's age-old curse, While from scruples' towers Flagellant and Pharisee Laid siege to Paradise, You remade us from a woman, Formed of her flesh, instead of dust, No longer mere breath and image, But Your very Self at her "Fiat." Kathleen T. Choi 1706 Walanuenue Ave. Hilo, Hawaii 96720 Religious Life Spirituality in the Year 2010 Charles Reutemann, F.S.C. Brother Charles Reutemann, F.S.C., is a de La Salle Brother of the New York prov-ince. He currently serves as a staff member of the Center for Spirituality and Justice in Bronx, New York, as adjunct professor in spirituality and spiritual direction at the Maryknoll School of Theology, and spiritual director at St. Joseph's Seminary in Yonkers, New York. For sixteen years he had been director of the Sangre de Cristo Renewal Center in Sante Fe, New Mexico. His address is St. Joseph's Seminary: Dunwoodie; Yonkers, New York 10704. When first approached to share some reflections on religious life at this year's LCWR/CMSM assembly, the year 2010 was proposed as a con-text for describing what religious life might look like in the foreseeable future. It was an attractive image, 2010, arbitrary but just far enough ahead to make one wonder. The program theme has since been descrip-tively changed to "tradition and transformation in religious life," but I have the feeling that the substance is the same: what will things look like twenty years down the road, as we move through present traditions and experiences? In targeting 2010 we recognize that the changes shall not happen over-night, nor in 2009, but that the future is already germinating and hap-pening now. Would it be correct then to say that since we now seem to be in a settling out, settling down, though still transitional period of re-ligious life, it would be helpful to identify and further describe the main trends and movements ihat are presently pro~,oking and energizing us so that we might embrace them in greater depth and with more enthusiasm? Is it a question then not so much of identifying something new but of graspingfirmly the significant strands that have emerged and are emerg- 185 Review for Religious, March-April 1990 ing over the past twenty-five years, and see if we can continue to weave them integratively into a religious life experience that will support and enhance the evolving Church in its quest for the kingdom? "Spirituality" would seem to be an "in" word today: articles, books, seminars, institutes--all are using the word repeatedly and in a variety of ways. Somehow I have the feeling that underneath its repeated use there are two strong movements: the quest for interiority and the con-tinuing quest for identity. In addition, I find it difficult to locate any one definition of spirituality that applies to all of its uses. Thus, for our pur-poses and partially because of my own bent, I should like to settle for a definition that focuses on the experiential, that is, what it feels like from within, as well as something that is applicable to all situations, re-gardless of different belief systems and religious responses. Hence, I would describe spirituality as a kind of mind-set, or a heart/mind-set, or if you are familiar with the skill of focusing, a body-sense/heart/mind-set that focuses a person's energies as he or she receives, reflects on, judges, and acts out life's responses in light of the transcendent. Spiri-tuality is thus a kind of integrative orientation which penetrates and chan-nels energies, as a person seeks for meaning and lives out life's choices. Except for the totally fragmented person, most of us function out of some spirituality in a good part of our conscious moments, though we may not be actively aware of that. Again, what is said of the individual may be said of the collectivity: groups function out of a spirituality, a heart/mind-set orientation as collectively they seek for meaning and live out life's choices with some awareness of the transcendent. A helpful metaphor for an experienced spirituality would be that of a large cable of many copper strands through which an electrical current flows. For the Christian, and afortiori, for the religious, this electrical current can be identified as the Holy Spirit, or the grace of Jesus, or the grace of God--whichever term one feels most comfortable with. In any case, the electrical current is a power source beyond the self; yet it be-longs to the self in freedom to accede to, impede, or modify the flow of this current. In such a metaphor for spirituality, the electrical current is absolutely indispensable; yet it is the copper cable and its strands that need to occupy our attention as we seek to describe religious life spiritu-ality in the year 2010, for all of us have some responsibility for that. I see the cable as having as many as eight identifiable strands sometimes overlapping through which the current of God's grace is presently form-ing the expression of religious life. I would name them as: founding charism strand, holistic strand, the experience of God strand, dealing Religious Life Spirituality with impasse strand, prophetic strand, conversion strand, feminine prin-ciple strand, and ministry strand. A brief description of each follows. The Founding Charism Strand By now, many initiatives have been taken by each religious group-ing to reappropriate its founding charism. Serious scientific research has uncovered the language, thought-patterns, and experiences of the foun-der and his or her early companions. Based upon this, there has been an attempt to re-say the rule, the constitutions, methods of governance, and mission statement. Through questionnaire, convocation, document, and chapter meeting, practical steps have been taken to involve the total mem-bership in valuing the charism, in recognizing it in its present lived ex-perience, and in re-appropriating it more enthusiastically as an histori-cal ideal for the present and the future. Underneath, of course, there is the strong conviction that it is God's Holy Spirit who has created the charism and who now invites us to a new appropriation. Yet there remains a challenge: we need to continue to demytholo-gize the founding charism by putting it into contemporary thought-form, imagery, and applicability, even as we must recognize that the charism itself has not completed its growth, for it is a living reality that can be ever transmuted while still retaining its original identity. Reli-gious are not meant to be stamped-out copies of an historically-conditioned founder, but possessors of his or her charism that is rooted in an initial gift which flowers in new ways and new relevances. For us, of special interest today is the phenomenon of lay participation in our founding charism. Lay collaboration is being redefined into more than a shared participation in the good works of religious, or a prayerful bond-ing of common aspirations. What is being demanded today is that the bond between lay and religious be rooted in a common spirituality, a ba-sic Christian spirituality of mission modified by that unique focusing of a congregation's special founding charism. Today and into the future we shall speak of creating Lasallian, Franciscan, Marian families; but this will have to be rooted in a mutually shared spirituality of mission with its unique focus flowing from the founder's gift. In lay-religious collabo-ration today there are no firsts and seconds, but a shared vision focused on a common ministry. And so, this founding charism strand needs fur-ther attention as the numbers of religious lessen and lay-religious col-laborators increase. The Holistie Strand Last February, I was part of a group of three hundred who attended "1111~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 a seminar on American Spirituality at the Mercy Center in Burlingame, California. While there, I noticed an announcement on the bulletin board that said there was a resident sister who was available to give a massage, for a fee. I have never had a massage, and regretted that I could not work it into my seminar schedule. But it did seem appropriate: spirituality with massage. Is this what holistic spirituality is all about?--"holistic"-- again, a much-used word, but one that attempts to say that body and spirit need equal attention, that the cultivation of the whole person comes about through an exciting multiplicity of experiences that leads to nature/ person integrity. Personally, I like to say that "holistic" is not just an integrated harmony of body and spirit, but that it includes a felt experi-ence of God, that the experience of self (body-spirit) in a developmental growthful way is also a God-experience, something that happens simul-taneously. Karl Rahner seems to suggest this when he speaks of the uni-versality of religious experiences in ordinary happenings. Should this not incline us to want to grow more holistically?. For then, God would not be thought of as some kind of "adversary," standing over and above the self, calling the individual to some better self, but as a Presence within, calling a self that is desirable (as Sebastian Moore would say) to further growth and development. Becoming one with the self (body/ spirit) is becoming one with God. Spirituality and massage do go to-gether. A fully-embraced holistic strand within spirituality opens the door to a healthy receiving and adapting of psychology in its theories and popu-larized processes. Self-knowledge and self-acceptance are essential to healthy spirituality, and modern psychology offers extraordinary help in becoming the holistic self. A rapid glance at the prospectus of extended renewal programs offered to religious today show such things as: jour-naling, dream analysis, enneagram, focusing, Myers Briggs interpreta-tion, and so forth--all tools for self-knowledge and integration. Added to this are the relational helps: skills for collaboration and community-building, communication skills, and the arts of relating. Then there are the healing arts which use music, massage, color, fiber, and clay. Is all of this not a strand of a spirituality of the present into the future, a mod-erated, integrated cultivation of body-spirit? Tennyson's lines from Ulys-ses might well signal the motivation: I am a part of all that i have met. Yet all experience is an arch where-thro" Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades Forever and forever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, Religious Life SpiritualiO, / 189 To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use! As tho" to breathe were life. The Experience of God Strand (a balance to the holistic strand!) By title, this strand of religious life spirituality may seem to be the most obvious. There can be several differing theologies of what reli-gious life is all about, but there's no arguing with its name: "re-ligious"-- bound back to God. God is the central agenda, God is the enough, and, as the Constitution on the Church insists, the religious is centered on God and "the more." We have heard it many times: serv-ice and doing are essential for religious; but it is the "being," the wit-nessing to the central agenda that God is and that God cares in the immediacy of an exciting and troublesome world--that is what religious are all about. And yet, to achieve that kind of presencing, religious can-not just be, they have to be nourished by a lively, ongoing experience bf God. Here, the key word is "experience": do we really believe that God is extraordinarily near in the ordinary, in the daily, in the moment? If so, where are the happenings, the daily experiences in life where we can say: here! God is affirming, inviting, scolding, caring? If Elizabeth Barrett Browning can say to her beloved "how do I love thee? let me count the ways," should that not also be the language of the religious who is a lover? Let me count the ways, O Lord, that you come to me today and I to you. Our Judaeo-Christian God is a passionate, personal God, who invites to a relationship, but who also exacts a relationship and a passionate response. Obviously, prayer, prayerful awareness, is cen-tral to a "counting of the ways," a deliberate acknowledging of the re-lationship. Prayer is not an end in itself, nor is it a conjuring act, though that belongs, of course. Prayer at its core is "a counting of the ways," a saying "yes" in a fumbling, inadequate way to the intermittently ex-perienced God. In our times, there have been all kinds of development of the prayer response: contemplative centers, prayer workshops, experiments with methodologies, books. Yet, with all of this, it remains important that we be not distracted from the central fact: God is ever near, wiping away the tear, suffering with us, helping us to taste and see in the immediacy of our lives. Cultivating an awareness of God's presence is our chief re-sponse. That, too, is the central girl that spiritual directors can be for oth-ers: a hungry awareness of this passionate God. Very much part of the "experience of God" strand, though it could be given separate treatment, is our focus on the human Jesus. I have al-ways felt that one of the most significant statements in that remarkable 190 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 book, Shaping the Coming Age of Religious L(fe, by Cada, Fitz, and oth-ers, is this: "One of the major prerequisites for the movement of a re-ligious community from a time of search and darkness to that of creat-ing a transformed community is the personal transformation among a significant number of people in the community . The most striking feature of this metanoia is a new (in the sense of deep, broader, and so forth) relationship to the person of Jesus and the gospel message of the kingdom." Experiencing Jesus in his humanity has a special attraction for our era which values the human and seeks to minister to its broken-ness. Today, Christology has fed into this contemporary longing with many remarkable studies: and belief in a resurrected human Jesus, who has gone before us and who is now let loose in our world as a healing, ministering presence, is for many a source of great hope. I would think that an ideal spirituality of 2010 would include a lively love affair with the person of Jesus in which through the concrete instances of his his-torical life we would penetrate his mind and heart and thus stretch back into the heart, mind, and feelings of our very God. God may be inex-haustible mystery, but divinity does not have to be mysterious--there is Jesus. The Dealing with Impasse Strand We do not have to have lived long to be convinced that life is filled with impasse situations: rejections, oppression, exploitation, and suffer-ing bear a multitude of names and disguises. Spiritual directors hear from their directees an endless litany of these darkness experiences, and the pain and confusion which they cause. Also, if our social critics and art-ists are any gauge, what happens to the individual is happening on the worldwide stage of society where drugs, local wars, forced deportation, the funneling of natural resources for weapons of destruction, the stran-gulation of initiative by business conglomerates, are creating societal im-passe in the social, political, and economic spheres. Just as "figuring a way out" is no longer an option for the individual in impasse, rational planning by societies seems less and less feasible. Social institutions are becoming paralyzed by never-ending impasse situations. What kind of spirituality is best able to deal with impasse? Once again, we probably know the answers, but it may be helpful to spell them out and thus fashion another strand of a wholesome religious life spiri-tuality. Earlier this summer, while Pope John Paul was visiting Norway, a country which has one of the highest p~r capita incomes in the world, one 28-year old student was interviewed as saying: "We have every-thing, yet something is missing in our lives, something spiritual. So Religious Life Spirituality many things happen that you cannot explain. We often talk about this at our university." Impasse. The Holy Father himself made this com-ment: "Science and technology, like the economic life they generate, cannot of themselves explain, much less eliminate, evil, suffering, and death." Impasse. The reality is that material self-sufficiency and politi-cal planning, so terribly necessary for all, cannot of themselves resolve deep personal and societal impasse--something which even liberation theologians are coming more and more to realize. Here in America, we have experimented extensively with the self-help techniques of psychology as being able to bring a person or a group through impasse. Gail Sheehy writes of the victorious personality, the survivor who by self-trust, flexibility, and the assistance of a mentor is able to overcome the cataclysmic effects of being a boat-person, a sur-vivor of the holocaust, a castaway from a disintegrated family. Yet even here, psychology does not seem to be enough--another level has to be touched to resolve impasse. Witness the Cambodian refugee, whom Miss Sheehy cites as a victorious personality, who says: "I started thinking, 'maybe God has a plan for me.' If I didn't think that way I would have given up so many times." Are self-help insights and techniques enough to confront impasse? What then? Allowing for the need of economic and political plan-ning, as well as the need for psychological self-awareness, would it not be true to say that the day-to-day impasse situations of our lives can only be met by Christian reflection: "Maybe God has a plan for me"? Here we touch upon experienced faith in a contemplative mode. This is not so much a belief system as it is a simple awareness that "God chooses what is foolish in the world to shame the wise and what is weak in the world to shame the strong" (! Co 1:27). God has a plan for me. Such an awareness rests in the paradox of nothingness and its seeming im-passe. In such awareness of darkness before the Lord, individuals and groups, moved by faith, can quietly exclaim: "I am crucified with Christ--but I live; yet not I, but Christ lives in me" (Ga 2:20). Maybe God has a plan for me, as I rest in the crucified Christ. A spirituality of the present into the future needs very much to make creative space for contemplative moments where impasse is accepted and reflected on-- gone through contemplatively. Only then can there be a flowering of hope that will nourish a utopian praxis in the very face of such impasse. The Prophetic Strand Although history tells us that there have always been prophets, we seem to be needing them more today than in our remembered past. Is it 199 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 because of the extraordinary changes and the accelerated rate of change that we find we need someone to tell us what this means and where it is all going? Is it also because, as never before, the media is able to re-veal to us the tragedies and unending travail of so many of the world's inhabitants? Planet earth,, though spectacularly beautiful from a distant moon walk, is pock-marked and diseased when looked at closely--the media has shown us this. We can no longer afford to "bring on the clowns" to help us forget; rather, we find we need prophets, truth-tellers, to remind us that many on planet earth can never be fully human, fully alive; we need truth-tellers, prophets, to help us mourn injustice, and to show us by lifestyle and ministry how to offer the poor some uto-pian hope and an alternative vision. We religious: are we meant to be prophets in our own culture? We are accustomed to describe ourselves as being on the cutting edge, as be-ing in the world but not of it, belonging but not entrapped, always strug-gling for justice and the better way. Certainly, scriptural prophets were on the cutting edge of their cultures, belonging to the scene but refusing to be corrupted by it. Certainly, too, our founders and foundresses and early associates were on the cutting edge, prophets in their culture. Is it part of our vocation then to be prophetic in a special way, and will it become even more evident and necessary as we reappropriate in depth our founding charism? Will it be a clear mark of the refounded religious group that, in both lifestyle and ministries, there will be significant mourn-ing and denouncing of injustice in the marginalized as well as the offer-ing of clear alternatives for social betterment? It is remarkable how Walter Brueggemann's book on The Prophetic Imagination has captured the thinking of many who today are writing about religious life! I join them as I add these thoughts. Brueggemann points out that anyone who uses power, particularly in bureaucratic re-ligion and religious life, tends to develop "a royal consciousness," that is, a fixated omniscient view that power-holders are automatically the cus-todians of God's power, and hence know best how to control structures and limit dissent. A royal consciousness mentality loves law and order, and exalts the status quo. A royal consciousness mentality is forced to stifle creativity, encourage passivity, and consequently fosters fear and mistrust. But, Brueggemann says, the oppression goes just so far; his-tory reveals that when the very stones are crying out, God breaks through and overthrows the control by raising up prophets. Andthe prophets play two roles: they radically criticize existing inequities, not so much as a social crusade or in strident indignation but in grief and lament, a thren- Religious Life Spirituality ody of woe. And secondly, the prophets provide alternative visions that penetrate the numbness of despair and give energy for opening up new paths. Does Brueggemann's insight speak to religious life today? By life-style and ministries are we being called to a more visible prophetic spiri-tuality that will enable us to offer radical criticism in housing, school-ing, job opportunities, religious expression, medical care, and a host of other social and political structures, and continue to bring a contempo-rary vision of the beatitudes and gospel message that can truly energize a confused and disheartened people? The ways and means of prophetic expression will vary: we may be serving as individual catalysts rather than as groups, we may be creating communities rather than living in com-munity, and so on; but prophecy must certainly be part of religious life spirituality in 2010. The Conversion Strand In 2 Corinthians Paul writes: "All of us gazing on the Lord's glory with unveiled faces, are being transformed from glory to glory into his very image by the Lord who is Spirit." For the Christian, the process of transformation or conversion entails a lifelong focusing on the face of Christ and an active surrender to the Lord who is Spirit. Conversion is one of those strands of spirituality that everyone recognizes as essen-tial. Mohandas Gandhi rues that he is still unconverted: "It is an unbro-ken torture to me," he says, "that I am still so far from him, who, as I fully know, governs every breath of my life, and whose offspring I am." Thomas Merton, on what was to be the last day of his Asian jour-ney exclaims: "What is essential . . . is not embedded in buildings, is not embedded in clothing, is not necessarily embedded even in a rule. It is somewhere along the line of something deeper than a rule. It is con-cerned with this business of total inner transformation." Conversion. The parameters of Merton's 1968 perceptions of religious life may have changed, but the business of total inner transformation remains a formi-dable goal for all religious. Property can be bought and sold, garb can undergo many modifications, rules can be simplified and redirected; but that firm decision with its appropriate means whereby we place ourselves on the path of Jesus remains the never-ending challenge. Conversion of individuals, of small communities, and of the total grouping remains a basic project in religious life. Two observations about conversion and spirituality. First, there is de-veloping a new kind of leader in the Church. Inasmuch as social con-cern about armaments, the economics of structural poverty, refugees, ecol- 194 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 ogy, the homeless, and so forth, have high priority in the consciences of Church and society, people are looking to leaders who can deal ef-fectively with such concerns. And, more often than not, the Church lead-ers who are rising up to work with them are indiscriminately sister, priest, brother, lay person, bishop; but what is common to them all is that each has undergone a personal conversion, a conversion provoked by some kind of renewal experience--a program, charismatic prayer, an AA experience, some social justice involvement that helpfully trauma-tized-- and through this experience or series of events each has found an-swers to very real and very personal questions about their lives and their ministry to others. "What they have in common," Kevin O'Rourke says in a Commonweal article, "is not ideological; it is experiential, an ex-perience of conversion and commitment. And, they are becoming the lead-ers in the American Church; they are spearheading the move to involve the Church in (struggling) with nuclear disarmament, capitalism, and third world issues." Is the religious of the future being invited to a lead-ership in a variety of ministries, a leadership that demands a spirituality of radical conversion? My second observation about conversion is that it seems it must be an across-the-board experience. Bernard Lonergan, James Fowler, a host of writers in recent issues of The Way magazine, all insist that conver-sion goes well beyond our moral responses. Conversion must affect the integration of our emotions and feelings, the rectitude of our thinking, the purifying of our images of God, the maturity and depth of our reli-gious enthusiasms--and all of this accompanied by that inner critical sense, discernment if you will, by which we pay attention to the subtle movements of our desires, attitudes, indecisions. A spirituality of the fu-ture geared towards total inner transformation must be accompanied by Buddhist awareness, or what Hemingway crudely called "a built-in crap detector." Only then will pure passionate energy be released and sim-plicity achieved. The Feminine Principle Strand Of the eight strands, the one about which I feel the least secure is what I am calling "the feminine principle strand." My insecurity comes not from a.lack of conviction about the importance of this strand--far from that. Rather, it is rooted in my own limited.knowledge and my be-lief that only a woman can adequately speak to the subject. Neverthe-less, something must be said. It would be impossible to have lived religious life for the past twenty years without being aware of the intense focusing on the concerns of the Religious Life Spirituality poor, the option for the poor. Likewise it would be impossible to have lived religious life in the same span of time without being aware of a simi-lar intense awareness of the feminine in Church and society, especially as that touches upon the demands of justice for women. These two con-cerns have marched along together, principally because the claims of jus-tice are common to each, but also, I think, because women, and relig-ious women in particular, have been in the forefront of succoring the poor through individual and group initiative. The claims of justice un-derlie every enterprise of religious life ministry. But it is the feminine and justice--an understanding of, respect for, and espousal of--that I feel must color our spiritual vision in the future. Once again, allow me to reduce my observations to two specific ar-eas. Most of us now accept the anima-animus duality of Jungian analy-sis and recognize that both operate within us. Likewise, most of us are probably still struggling to work out the implications of this distinction as we strive for wholeness. For example, speaking for myself, I sub-scribe to the theory that each man needs to go from his socialized mas-culine self, to his feminine self, and then to his deep masculine self, if he is to complete the journey of personal integrity. The same would ob-tain for woman: from the socialized feminine self, to the masculine self, to the deep feminine self, and thus to integrity. But, in a world that is patriarchal in language, symbol, and structure, much has to be overcome; the feminine needs to be underscored, both for the man and the woman. The gifts and qualities of the feminine are the ones that need to be ap-preciated and actively endorsed. We know those feminine qualities well: the ability to tap into and relate experience, the ability to be in touch with feelings and to articulate them in detail, the gift of making friendships that mature, the gift of a special bonding with the earth, for holding it sacred and walking on it gently. All these are specifically feminine quali-ties and gifts, and I would see our cultivating them as a consciously-chosen goal in a spirituality of the future. My second observation would have to come under the heading of "woman and justice"--a vast topic, but one that pertains to every di-mension of society and church. Simply put, the goal may best be ex-pressed in the words of Carolyn Osiek in her book Beyond Anger where she writes: "What we need is a transformation of patriarchy into a dis-cipleship of equals." A discipleship of equals; yes, that's it, and it would involve an ongoing conversion of attitude and action that must affect lan-guage, symbol, structure, and relationship. As part of a spirituality, this would mean an alert conscientization, a willful desire for justice in a spe- Review for Religious, March-April 1990 cific realm. A spirituality of the future must include a feminine princi-ple strand that addresses at least these two specific areas. The Ministry Strand "Go out to all the world and tell the good news." That is the com-mand. At the beginning ofevery religious congregation there was always some human need that cried out for relief, some opportunity for bring-ing the gospel message and Jesus to the marginalized. Founding groups and we their followers continue to believe that we are called by the Holy Spirit to be involved in the cause of Jesus through love of neighbor and a concern for justice. Of all the strands of religious life spirituality this has to be the most central and dominative: ministry rooted in faith and love that seeks justice. For me, the best contemporary expression of this goal was spoken by Pope John Paul II to a gathering of religious superiors: "The central conviction for meaningful renewal of a religious group lies in a deep-seated sense of mission for each individual and within the group. More than contemporary abstract social and psychological models, your for-mation programs for new members and for old, your community struc-tures of government and lifestyle will be well-ordered and sharpened when they are infused by a contemporary understanding and feeling for the group's historically-derived mission . Mission fires the idealism of the young and old alike. Mission calls us to pay the price, to bear the burden, to suffer pain, loneliness, and loss. Mission remains at the heart of the active apostolic vocation." If this be so, as we look into the future, we may want to define and evaluate our spirituality of mission according to three factors which have special meaning for today. First, the works of ministry. To what extent are the present works of our congregations the legitimate offspring of the founding charism? As a guide to this evaluation, it may be more impor-tant to gauge the religious zeal with which the ministries are being pur-sued, rather than their specific nature. Paul's words in 2 Timothy seem appropriate: "I remind you to stir into flame the gift of God bestowed when my hands were laid on you. The Spirit that God has given us is no cowardly spirit but rather one that makes us strong, loving, and wise" (2 Tm 1:6-7). Genuine ministry will always have a driven quality about it. Secondly, although all works of justice attract Christian ministry, our present technological society calls us to give special attention to struc-tural justice. Our socio-political-economic institutions and systems fre-quently oppress in a nameless, faceless way. We will not be able to con- Religious Life Spirituality / "197 front this unless our vision sees three and not just two dimensions to hu-man existence: the individual, the inter-personal and the public or so-cietal. How often, for example, in working for change through minis-try, have we focused on structures: personal, community, business, neigh-borhood, and asked: are these structures oppressive or life-giving? am I contributing to their power? A spirituality for ministry today must in-corporate a much clearer and more sensitive awareness of structures and their power if justice is to be achieved. Thirdly, our world has gotten smaller and more cohesive. United na-tions, one world, global village, planet earth are the terms we use, and our ministry responsibility needs to reflect that. Consequently, I would see that the ministry strand of religious life spirituality would have a global and ecological orientation that would make us concerned citizens that can pass beyond geographical boundary and language as we bring Christian outreach to all people and to the earth itself. Will "missionar-ies" be a special category in religious congregations of the future, or will all of us be part of that? A Final Word Where can we go with this? If I myself were reading this presenta-tion and found myself agreeing with some of it, and wanted to take some action, I think I would first sift the word "spirituality": is it a signifi-cant operative reality, and if so, what is its power and function within religious life? Depending on the answer to that, there is the matter of defi-nition: what is religious life spirituality and is there a generic understand-ing that cuts across congregational differences? Next, there is the image of the cable and its strands: are there identi-fiable patterns, movements, elements that we are being called to live out as religious today and into the future? If so, is it helpful to tick them off in some form of completeness/incompleteness, and can we then match these with our own congregational documentation (rules, mission state-ment, and so forth) and major endeavors (ministries, lifestyle, and other creative involvement), so that we might see where we are on the living chart of contemporary religious life? In other words, are we ready for some kind of self-evaluation as we move towards 2010? Following that, I should think a number of possibilities would de-velop: As a first (1) possibility, after a careful critique of our congrega-tional group, there might be cause to have a major celebration, a convo-cation or something similar, where the message would be: "We are on the right track; let us continue, though we might want to give some spe-cial consideration to such and such a strand. A second (2) possibility "191~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 might be the recognition that, although our congregational group has an intellectual or "documentary" grasp of these major strands, we, the rank and file, do not own them sufficiently in our lived experience, and we need to devise further strategies to address that. A third (3) pos-sibility, though I doubt it exists, is that our congregational group has not yet adequately come to an intellectual awareness of the import of these strands in religious life today. And so, we come back to our starting point: what will religious life spirituality look like in the year 2010, and what can we do about it now? Canticle To I Am The splendor of Your love is dazzling winter sunlight upon drifts of snow frozen by the frosts. At other times, it has the deep roar of immense waves crashing against red granite rocks which have patiently withstood the continuous onslaught of the sea. Also, it has the tranquillity of a street puddle made by the rain. Such a place can catch countless reflections of skyscrapers, the intense blue of a child's inquisitive.eyes. Your love is the song of a red cardinal telling the world that spring has come. Brother Richard Heatley, F.S.C. De La Salle Centre 45 Oaklands Avenue Toronto, Ontario M4V 2E4, Canada From CMSW to LCWR: A Story of Birth and Transformation Lora Ann Quihonez, C.D.P. and Mary Daniel Turner, S.N.D. de N. Sister Lora Ann Quifionez, C.D.P., is a former executive director of the Leader-ship Conference of Women Religious. She served as a member of the general coun-cil of the Sisters of Divine Providence of San Antonio, Texas. Sister Mary Daniel Turner, S.N,D. de N., is also a former executive director of the LCWR. She served as president of the Sisters of Notre Dame de Namur. They are currently co-authoring a book on the renewal of religious life in the United States. They may be addressed at 1319 Floral Street, N.W.: Washington, D.C. 20012. This article is based primarily on sources in the archives of the Dominican Sis-ters, Adrian, Michigan; of the Sisters of Loretto, Nerinx, Kentucky: and of the Lead-ership Conference of Women Religious. The authors have constructed chronologi-cal sequences and the details of events from correspondence, minutes, proceedings of assemblies, internal reports, and a few in-house publications of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (Conference of Major Superiors of Women). The dates of the papers consulted fall within the years cited in the article. That the last twenty-five years have witnessed marked changes in Ameri-can Catholicism and that women religious have been prominent actors in the change process are evident. From children and daughters of the Church to women and partners in the mission of the Church, from ob-servers of to active participants in church-world affairs, and from insti-tutional church workers to initiators of and collaborators in multiple serv-ices, women religious of the United States, setting out from a stable and precisely-defined state of consecration, have journeyed to a less secure, and more expanded life of mission. There are many lenses through which we could examine this journey. The Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR)--founded as the Conference of Major Superiors of Women (CMSW)--however, offers a unique lens through which to view 199 200 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 the coming-of-age of American women religious. ~ Composed of the chief officers of congregations of women religious, the conference is a juridically-recognized body in the Church, having of-ficial status with the Vatican and the American hierarchy. The major su-periors, as the designated leaders of their congregations, give priority to their communities, and issues of meaning and ultimate direction engage their energies. Joining with their peers in the conference, they are in a privileged position to probe and analyze issues. Moreover, since their roles encourage the promotion of change consonant with the mission of the Church and their respective charisms, they possess a certain degree of moral authority to consider common responses to the claims of church and world on their resources. Two events--the founding of the conference in 1956 and its verita-ble refounding in 1971--illuminate the transformation which occurred among the leaders of congregations of women religious within a span of twelve years, a metamorphosis not unlike the one among the sisters of the United States. These events reveal women of their times who carried out their responsibilities from very differing worldviews. This difference, graphically captured in their contrasting perceptions of religious life, is clearly evident in the records of the founding and the refounding of the conference. For the founders of the conference, consecration to God, the pursuit of personal holiness, and separation from the world were the essential elements of religious life. They understood their vocation as a call to a "state of perfection," whose legitimacy came from ecclesiastical author-ity. Religious were "religious" first and foremost; apostolic works were secondary, mere "nets" for saving souls. Corporate institutional ser-vices, however, ensured their collective and public identity. Stability, cer-titude, and order marked this way of life; regular observance distin-guished the "good sister." The place and the role of religious in church and world were secure and privileged. The statutes drafted at the time of the founding of CMSW simply reflected this theological perspective and mirrored the corporate self-understanding of the major superiors in the 1950s. Many of the major superiors of the late ! 960s and early i 970s, how-ever, imaged religious life not so much as a state within a "perfect so-ciety" but as a reality rooted in the Gospel, organized around and for the mission of the Church and shaped in history through the Spirit-inspired insights of persons living it. The work on the conference bylaws at the time of reorganization made apparent that leaders of women's con- From CMSW to LCWR / 201 gregations were refashioning their religious identity and reordering their place in the Church. Appreciating the universal call to holiness of all bap-tized persons espoused by Vatican II, these women searched for a cor-porate self-definition that would simultaneously speak to the commonly-shared vocation of all Christians and describe religious life as a distinct, but not more perfect, response to the Gospel. For a significant number of these leaders, personal holiness and the transformation of society were inextricably related. They no longer judged the world as alien territory; it was a locus of the holy. No longer secondary, works were constitutive of an apostolic life. They were not to be determined by a priori definitions of appropriate "religious" ac-tivities nor confined solely to corporate institutional commitments. World realities attested to needs and services were to be responsive to them. The mission of the Church, not regular observance, was the or-ganic principle of an apostolic religious life. In contrasting the members' work on the CMSW statutes and on the LCWR bylaws, we see that these differences determined the purpose and character of the conference. Conference of Major Superiors of Women (CMSW) 1. Genesis The story of the founding is an account of a church movement with its beginnings in post-World War II Europe and its inspiration in the call of Pius XII for "aggiornamento" in and collaboration among religious institutes. The movement, deriving its direction from Vatican officials, gaining momentum through the international congresses and national meetings of religious held in the fifties, ultimately became institutional-ized because of the persuasive moral power of Vatican officials and the allegiance of American women religious to church authorities. 2. Organizing the Conference. In 1952 Valerio Cardinal Valeri, Prefect of the Sacred Congregation for Religious (SCR), appointed a committee of seven women to help plan the first national congress of religious of the United States. In April, 1958, he asked this same body to organize, in consultation with the ma-jor superiors of men, a national conference of religious in the United States. Writing to Mother Gerald Barry, O.P., superior general of the Dominicans (Adrian, Michigan), chair of the organizing committee, Val-eri states that the purpose of national conferences "is precisely to en-able those who understand most intimately the particular needs and con-ditions of their own country or area to provide for those needs by means 902 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 best adapted to their situation" (Oct. 9, 1958). These women, however, saw no need for a conference because organizations like the National Catholic Welfare Conference, the National Catholic Education Associa-tion, and the Catholic Hospital Association were ably serving com-munities in matters related to apostolic works. Besides, the need for "ag-giornamento" was not a felt-experience in the United States, where works were thriving, vocations abounded, and religious life seemed sta-ble. Nevertheless, if the Holy Father wanted such an organization, these women could be counted on to help realize his dream. They knew that the major superiors of the United States, "obedient children" and daugh-ters of the Church, would obey the wishes of the Sovereign Pontiff. Within six months (April--November, 1956) the Committee had drafted statutes, secured SCR approval for their work, orchestrated a na-tional assembly of major superiors, and set in motion a process for es-tablishing a conference. In doing their task, they relied heavily on the statutes of the newly-formed Canadian Religious Conference, which included both women and men; they also took quite seriously the directive of Valeri to structure national conferences according to local needs. Thus, although the SCR assumed that there would be a single conference for women and men, the Sisters' Committee took the view that the needs and problems of relig-ious women and religious priests were quite different. They saw a sepa-rate conference for women as a practical necessity: women must orga-nize and act on their own behalf. (No references were made to religious brothers in these early discussions!) Convinced as they were that other national organizations compe-tently advised women religious in matters pertaining to health, educa-tion, welfare, and "foreign missions," the organizing committee at-tached less importance to establishing a national office than did their male counterparts, also drafting statutes for a national conference. And so the women decided that a national executive committee would serve as a kind of "national sec?etariat" for the CMSW. Authority within the conference would be entrusted to the executive committee, and its mem-bers alone would elect national officers. The executive members would make decisions, direct programs, and transmit the mind of the Church to major superiors. While the conference membership would gather na-tionally every five years, the organizing committee did not envision mo-bilizing their power for corporate action. The national executive com-mittee would determine what, if any, activities were appropriate for a re-ligious conference. From CMSW to LCWR / 903 The organizing committee did, however, attach great significance to regional organization and activity. Local and regional diversity, so much valued in the United States, demanded this emphasis. The regions, there-fore, would constitute the strength of the conference and serve as forums for education and gathering places for major superiors to study together issues and topics relating to religious life. Work on the statutes made evident the relative certainty of the found-ing women about the nature and purpose of the Church and religious life. They accepted the official definitions and the practices of ecclesiastical authority as well as the canonical prescriptions about religious life. This certainty guided their deliberations and left its mark on the statutes, which clearly identified CMSW as an ecclesiastical moral person, depend-ent on church officials for its being. Submission to church authorities within the limits of canon law was to be the hallmark of the new organi-zation. Determining the criterion for membership was also no problem: only major superiors as defined by church law qualified. Similarly, the pur-pose of the conference was precisely specified: the spiritual welfare of religious and matters that were properly spiritual would engage the re-sources and energies of the conference. In summary, the statutes of CMSW structured a conference accord-ing to a hierarchic-elitist worldview, shaped in harmony with the domi-nant classical theology of religious life as a state of perfection and a life of consecration. Conference programs, activities, and relationships would take their direction from this worldview and theology. 3. The Founding Assured that the SCR endorsed their preparatory work, the organiz-ing committee planned a national meeting for November 24, 1956. Fol-lowing Vatican directives, they invited only major superiors of pontifi-cal congregations. Although the more than 235 in attendance unani-mously approved the proposed statutes, some raised the possibility of experimenting with a national conference for one year before making a final decision. The participants easily and quickly disposed of the ques-tion: what the Holy Father wanted, United States women religious wanted. Experimentation was unnecessary. And thus, the CMSW was founded. As originally envisioned, it was to be simply and only a conference: a forum for the spiritual benefit of major superiors as well as for the revitalization of religious life and an organ for communicating and promoting the mind of the Church. The months between November, 1956, and July, 1957, were devoted 204 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 to organizing the six regions, in particular, to electing regional officers who would serve as the eighteen-member national executive committee of the conference. A report given by Mother Alcuin McCarthy, O.S.F.--first National Chairman (sic)--at the Second International Congress of the States of Per-fection (December, 1957) reviews the founding activities of the confer-ence. Her account, simply and directly told, makes clear that, within the context of the Roman initiative, the organizing women took full charge of the process of founding and did so according to their understanding of the needs of religious life in the United States. It likewise records a story marked by the absence of conflict. Whatever the reservations of the founding women about the need for a national conference and about cer-tain organizational features, their steady reliance on church authorities and, in turn, the confidence of Roman officials in them worked together to bring about a stable, well-defined organization. The SCR officially recognized the conference in 1959 and approved the statutes in 1962. As a pontifically approved organization of major su-periors, the CMSW was well on its way to becoming a nationally and internationally recognized presence in the Church. Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR) In contrast to the record of the founding of CMSW, the account of its reorganization is a story of women religious profoundly affected by Vatican II, influenced by the movement of Catholics into mainstream America, unsettled by the politics and cultural revolution of the sixties, challenged by the liberation theology of Latin America, and somewhat conflicted about their own identity and purpose. The decision to reor-ganize emerged from within the conference, engaging the members in an intensive review of the statutes and generating a transformation of con-sciousness about the purpose and organizational components of the con-ference. In fact, the implementation of that decision brought about the refounding of the CMSW. The Work of Reorganization The journey toward the refounding of CMSW was initiated and di-rected from within the conference. Responding to a request from Mary Luke Tobin, S.L. (then CMSW National Chairman) to ascertain the readi-ness of American congregations of women religious to implement Vati-can II, the National Executive Committee (NEC) appointed, in 1965, a research committee to direct this task. The committee launched the Sis-ters' Survey, a questionnaire of some 645 items, answered by 139,000 From CMSW to LCWR / 205 women religious in the United States. Since responses to the Survey made it clear that the sisters were eager to participate in decision-making, the research committee recommended to the 1967 assembly of the CMSW a study of conference structures. The NEC engaged the mem-bership in a study of the statutes that developed into a full-blown educa-tional program, calling for the active involvement of all the members. In many ways the process paralleled the special general chapters then un-derway in individual communities. In revising the statutes, CMSW members probed radical questions about the nature and purpose of religious life and necessarily about the nature and purpose of the conference. Conversations made evident that some leaders of women's congregations understood and experienced ap-ostolic religious life as something other than a "state of perfection" and a life of "separation from the world." The reports from regional meet-ings show that the appropriate relationship of religious to the world was a dominant issue in the discussion. The clear-cut distinction of classical theology between the sacred and the secular and between the "strictly spiritual" and apostolic works no longer held sway. It could not be as-sumed that traditional formulae about religious life, its purpose and mean-ing, claimed general allegiance among conference members. To some members it seemed that a spirit of secularism was finding its way into the conference. The records of this study also show the major superiors grappling with questions of ecclesiastical jurisdiction and debating the issue of mem-bership eligibility. What was the appropriate relationship between a pon-tifically approved organization (the conference) and church authorities? What was the legitimate and necessary autonomy of the conference within the church system? They questioned, too, criteria for membership. A proposal to include associates evoked fear among some members: they believed that to admit major superiors who did not fit canonical defini-tions and leaders of groups who did not have canonical approval would surely undermine the identity of the conference. Minutes of regional discussions also point up that a few members ex-pressed seriousconcern about the relationship between the national and the regional levels. Disturbed by what they perceived as the "sociologi-cal" character of the Sisters' Survey and its propagandizing intent, some members believed the influence of the NEC, who commissioned the study, needed curbing. Even the egalitarian principles shaping the orga-nizational character of the conference did not wholly dispel mistrust of the power of the NEC. 906 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 The proposed revisions of the bylaws drastically altered the purpose and role of the national meeting as well as the constituency and function of the governing body. Now conference members were to gather annu-ally and as a national assembly determine directions, establish goals, and specify priorities. A national board constituted by the chairs of the newly structured fifteen regions, five officers, and the executive director would govern according to the directions determined by annual assemblies and be accountable to the membership for its decisions and actions. The proposed bylaws provided for an expanded national office. This restructuring also caused anxiety among some members. As directors and coordinators of programs, research, development, communications, and fiscal procedures, the staff would, some thought, be in a position to ex-ercise too much power in the conference. Assurances from conference officers about the ecclesial character of the conference, the proposed restructuring of the regions, the move to universal suffrage for the election of the national officers, the function of the national assembly as a decision-making body, the board's account-ability to the membership, and the supervision of the staff by the board did not totally eliminate tensions within the conference. These tensions remained throughout the process of revision and after its completion. The revised statutes--now called "bylaws' '--adopted by the mem-bership in 1971 represented the dominant position, if not the unanimous view, of the membership. The bylaws clearly identified the conference as an ecclesial body, sophisticated as an organization. The members were unequivocally "women" in the Church, equal among themselves and partners with church officials in carrying out its mission. While they were clear that the bylaws of the conference existed to serve the leaders of congregations precisely as leaders, the purpose and objectives of the conference were broadly conceived, allowing for great diffusion of en-ergies and wide-ranging agendas. Not only were the Church and the world legitimate forums for concern and action, the conference was chal-lenged to be a transforming agent in both spheres. Strikingly, the lan-guage of the bylaws manifests a dynamic, evolutionary worldview, and the objectives mandate the development of a theology of religious life consonant with that worldview. Re founding Without prior consultation with or endorsement from the SCR, the national board presented the proposed bylaws for a final vote during the 1971 assembly. This was not, however, the first opportunity for a total conference discussion of the revised statutes: A special assembly had From CMSW to LCWR / 207 been held in February, 1970, to provide full membership debate on the purpose, role, and objectives of the conference. They had endorsed the restructuring of the conference from six to fifteen regions and adopted universal suffrage for the election of national officers. At the 1971 As-sembly the members approved the revised statutes and a new title, Lead-ership Conference of Women Religious. The newly-adopted bylaws and title signaled a transformed under-standing and appreciation of the raison d'etre of the conference: not only was it to be a forum for enabling leadership, it was also to become a cor-porate force for systemic change in Church and society. LCWR was born and with it an organization committed to constructive, creative use of power and influence in Church and world. No longer simply a forum for sharing, it now became an agent for change. The assembly, the national board, and executive committee as well as the secretariat and national committees consolidated the corporate power of the conference to coor-dinate regional and national levels and promote collaboration with Church and civic organizations. Following the 1971 Assembly the board directed the staff to initiate whatever actions were necessary to have the new name legally recog-nized. The former name CMSW, they agreed, communicated a negative image to the public: its militaristic and hierarchic connotations needed dispelling. This action and the adoption of the bylaws by the assembly without prior approval of SCR caused consternation not only among some conference members but also in some members of SCR. Presented with the newly adopted bylaws in November, the SCR raised questions about the lack of explicit jurisdictional lines between the conference and Church authorities and the meaning of the new title. Amendments to the bylaws worked out by the national board stilled, for a time, the concerns of SCR about jurisdictional issues. Provisions were incorporated to acknowledge the "authority of the Holy See and of the bishops," the relationship of the conference to SCR, and its re-sponsibility to the Apostolic Delegate in "its more important activities." As a result, the SCR granted definitive approval of the bylaws in 1972. Agreement about the title, however, did not come until 1974. For some SCR authorities the appropriation of the term "leadership" by the United States major superiors appeared arrogant. Besides, they charged, the language evoked the negative images associated with terms like "Fuh-rer" and "II Duce." After much dialogue between conference officers and members of the SCR and the addition of a statement in the bylaws clarifying the meaning of "leadership," SCR officials finally endorsed 201] "1 Review for Religious, March-April 1990 the title. The CMSW, according to one observer, had taken "a sharp new turn." The work of producing bylaws gave evidence of a growing ap-preciation of United States culture by the major superiors. And though probably unconscious of their kinship with feminists, the CMSW mem-bers of the late 1960s demonstrated commitment to becoming a self-determining conference, not isolated from Church officials but interact-ing with them. Concluding Reflections I. Transitions: Times, Events, Movements Between the call of Pius XII in the 1950s for "aggiornamento" and the challenge of John XXIII for renewal, the United States had experi-enced rapid and radical change. The flight from the cities to suburbia, the volatile confrontations of the civil rights movement, the assassina-tions of John F. and Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King, the ex-cruciating agonies and divisions over United States involvement in Vi-etnam, the farm-workers' struggle for justice, the anti-Communist para-noia, the Bay of Pigs debacle, and the development of a vocal feminist minority threw the country into a national paroxysm. Self-doubt, dissent, and protest became a way of life. Moreover, the nation was not untouched by liberation movements in Third World countries. The presence of Peace Corps volunteers and of United States religious in Latin American countries awakened social re-sponsibility and global sensitivities, and, at the same time, called into question the role of the United States in international inequities. The United States was a world power. Was it a force for international jus-tice? The response of Catholics in the United States to Humanae Vitae was a powerful symbol and experience of intense ferment in the Church, evok-ing as it did a storm of protest. Public dissent was no longer confined to civic matters. The American Church, consciously becoming a "local church," was loosening its ties to Rome as Catholics moved into main-stream America, became better educated, and delighted in the experience of a Catholic president. Catholics were at home in America. They had assimilated well ~pecifically American values: the sharing of power, the right to dissent, participation in decisions that affect one's life, dialogue, respect for differences, and due process. The political upheavals, in ad-dition, evoked a new awareness of and commitment to these values. For many Catholics, however, these values were not simply or only From CMSW to LCWR / 209 cultural: they were consonant with the Gospel. They could, and should, find their way into Church life and structures. As renewal efforts within religious congregations demonstrate, women religious were not immune to these developments. They were profoundly affected by them. Movements directly related to religious life also influenced religious women. The expansion of education and theological competence brought about by Sister Formation (SF) activities in the 1950s and early 1960s insured that "new" ideas concerning both Church and society circulated in communities. Newer members, in particular, as well as congregational leaders and formation directors sensed that some structures and practices within religious institutes were not workable nor productive of healthy people and groups. Neither were they compatible with a developing sense of apostolic religious life. In many ways, the SF movement had prepared religious to respond boldly to the societal and ecclesial chal-lenges of the 1960s. In particular, the Vatican II mandate for renewal, its acknowledg-ment of the vital connection between Church and world, and its charac-terization of the Church as People of God and as Pilgrim People found receptive minds among a significant number of women religious. These ideas, validating the developing consciousness of many religious concern-ing the meaning of apostolic religious life, opened the way for its re-imagination. The depth of the response of United States religious to Vatican II was probably enlarged by the presence of Mary Luke Tobin, S.L., as an of-ficial observer at the Council. Her work on the commission which de-veloped The Church in the Modern World uniquely prepared her to be-come an ambassador of the Council. Traveling extensively throughout the country, she challenged women religious to take an active role in the world: they were to be bold advocates for justice and peace. As the presi-dent of CMSW (1964-67), she was in a privileged position to dissemi-nate the "good news" of Vatican II among major superiors. Her influ-ence was especially felt in the program planning of the national as-semblies from 1965-1967, assemblies that proved powerful corporate and formative ex

Issue 49.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1990. ; Liberation and thel~iturgical Year How to Read St. John of the Cross Lasting Friends Volume 49 Number 6 November/December 1990 REVIEW I:oa REL~GIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at St. Louis University by the Mis-souri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus: Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Blvd., Rm. 428; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis MO. Single copies $3.50. Subscriptions: United States $15.00 for one year; $28.00 for two years. Other countries: US $20.00 for one year; if airmail, US $35.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW FOR RELIGOUS; P,O. BOX 6070: Duluth, MN 55806. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. ©1990 REVIEW yon RELIGIO~S. David L. Fleming, S.J. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Elizabeth McDonough, O.P. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors David J. Hassel, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Wendy Wright, Ph.D. Advisory Board Mary Margaret Johanning, S.S.N.D. Sean Sammon, F.M.S. Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B. November/December 1990 Volume 49 Number 6 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Eliza-beth McDonough, O.P.; 5001 Eastern Avenue; P.O. Box 29260; Washington, D.C. 20017. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW roR RELIGIOUS; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, M! 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available oft cassette recordings as a service for the visu-ally Impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. PRISMS. As we come to the end of another calendar year, we also find our-selves bridging the end and beginning of our Christian liturgical year. November is like a summary or review month--a past looking towards a future. It always begins with the two days commemorating all the saints and then all the faithful departed; it closes with a Sunday celebration of the eschatological feast of Christ the King. With Advent and with the Christmas season, we listen and we look--listening anew to the words of biblical prophets and looking upon the Word become flesh. Perhaps we better describe it as a future looking to the present. The divine call of hope coming through the prophets and being enfleshed in Jesus touches the human heart. It rouses the deepest of hu-man desires--to experience oneself as free in a world which is free and to experience peace within oneself and peace without. Most of the arti-cles in this issue involve a looking back and a looking ahead. At the same time, they also touch the present--with our experience of peace in its vari-ous forms, and with our experience of freedom. The articles by Kennington, Rich, van Breemen, and Kerr take up various implications of what has been identified as liberation theology. The origins of liberation theology are found in the so-called Third World countries, particularly in theological writers of South America. More broadly used in the Church, this theology has become a studied way of understanding, articulating, and living out our Christian faith so that we may affect situations and policies which tend to breed injustice and un-freedom. Liberation theology can sometimes seem to condone or even advocate some kind of violence. But no theology can merit the name Christian which is not permeated with a peace which only God can give. Liberation ~theology, especially when viewed in its spirituality, is most of all a theology of the kind of peace sung about by the angels on that first Christmas night. Perhaps one or other of these articles will be a kind of Bethlehem star for us, leading us to a place of greater freedom and peace, either within ourselves or without. Of special interest to a number of our readers are certain upcoming anniversaries. With the feast of St. John of the Cross celebrated in De-cember, there begins the 400th anniversary of the death of this great mys-tic, 1591-1991. Steven Payne, O.C.D., editbr of the Carmelite journal 1101 Review for Religious, November-December 1990 Spiritual Life, provides us with some contemporary approaches to John's spiritual doctrine. Thomas Moore, O.C.D.S., tries to provide us with some basic directions to enter more profitably into the rich teaching of John. In celebration of another anniversary, our January/February 1991 is-sue will be unique in its focused selection of Ignatian spirituality arti-cles and book reviews. The year 1991 marks the 50th volume of REVIEW FOR RELiGiOUS, and the first issue of this volume will honor the Ignatian spirituality tradition, which is celebrating the combined anniversaries of 450 years since the founding of the Society of Jesus and 500 years since the birth of St. Ignatius Loyola. As we close out the first half century of this publication with this is-sue, the staff of REVtEW FOR RELmtOUS wishes all of our readers a Christ-mastide full of the blessings of peace and of freedom. David L. Fleming, S.J. Bethlehem Star: Spiritual Direction in Social Action Ministries Paddy Kennington Paddy Kennington is presently teaching literacy education in shelters for homeless people in Raleigh, North Carolina. With her master's degree in counseling and psy-chology and a graduate certificate in spiritual direction from Washington Theologi-cal Union, she also serves as an area formation director for the Third Order, Society of St. Francis, Episcopal Church. Her address is 2404-1C Bradford Dr.; Wilson, North Carolina 27893. Spiritual direction training and spiritual directors can become part of the praxis of social ministries. If the goals and purposes of social ministries are restricted to serving food, providing shelter, and legislative advo-cacy, worthy as those activities are, then God's wider plan of transform-ing grace and unity may never happen. The learning accumulated in spiri-tual direction training and experience can be part of the organization and spirituality of a social ministryin the Church. A graced life is not a pri-vate life. We are meant to become "breach menders and restorers of ru-ined houses" (Is 58: 12). One way to rethink thb relationship betWeen spiritual direction and social ministry as spirituality in action is to 'draw parallels between the two in the context of the concrete experiences of volunteers and street persons in a soup kitchen. This seems to me to be one method to dem-onstrate the thesis that spiritual direction has a role in social ministry. The Center for Spirituality and Justice in New York City has investigated the necessity to include an awareness of social consciousness as part of the spiritual direction relationship, t The reciprocity between spiritual di-rection skills and principles and social action is equally important in the daily hands-on ministries of shelters, clothing banks, and soup kitchens. 803 Review for Religious, November-December 1990 Two stories of volunteers and street people illustrate the need to include spiritual direction with social action. The Soup Kitchen Antonio In early 1983, four of us from the Social Apostolate soup kitchen in Savannah, Georgia, organized an emergency winter night shelter. The next year, we added an evening soup kitchen and health care. Eventu-ally, I became the first director. 1 met many men and women like Anto-nio who appeared one fall evening in our soup line. He was wearing an over-sized woman's coat. Antonio's suitcase had remained on the bus that left him while he was looking for food. What funds Antonio had in his pockets had vanished quickly into slippery street fingers. After visiting the health-care clinic in our building, we discovered Antonio was thoroughly infested with lice. We also realized he had a men-tal disability and with his friendly, innocent manner, was not able to cope with the violence of street life. Antonio arrived in town in time for the opening of our winter shelter. Luckily, we were able to get him off the street each night. After a few days, the local Catholic Worker became Antonio's tem-porary home. He was an outgoing person and tried to fit in with our com-munity at the soup kitchen and with the Catholic Worker family. Anto-nio wanted to work and contribute to his keep. But his attempts at typ-ing for us and for the health-care nurses were disastrous. One of the nurses convinced him to write to his family in New Jersey. We began to get frantic phone calls from them, and were able to persuade his fa-ther not to get on the first plane to rescue Antonio. One winter evening as the volunteers were converting the hall from soup kitchen to night shelter, Antonio and I sat next to the front door while we waited to take the names of that night's guests. He turned to me and with his eyes averted as usual, asked, "Paddy, what's this place really all about?" I thought a moment and then said, "It's like a bus station, Antonio. People get off the bus, out of the streets, for a little while. They stay with us until they get back on the bus and move on." He turned that over in his mind and said, "Yeah, that's right. That's what I did. I'm staying here and then I'll move on, too." Antonio did leave eventually but not before he had struggled with his reasons for suddenly running away from his home in New Jersey. I think he struck out on his own because he wanted to know if he could take care of himself. Antonio's parents were overly protective and his Spiritual Direction in Social Action Ministries / 805 brother pushed him hard to excel beyond his handicap. On the other hand, his disability did not keep Antonio from searching, questioning, and striving for what he believed to be his freedom. His questions and sense of independence may have taken a different expression from yours or mine. But the restless heart of St. Augustine was the same for Anto-nio as it is for all of us. In the spring while the azaleas and dogwoods were blooming, Anto-nio returned to his home and family. In the last letter we received from him, he told us about the computer course he was taking. One afternoon the following fall, a care-package of used jeans and winter shirts from Antonio arrived at the shelter. He had not forgotten those still on the bus. St. Teresa discovered after experiencing the prayer of union, that the Lord had been waiting many years for her "yes" to the Creator's gift of spiritual treasures and blessings.2 In his desire to d~cide the course of his own life, Antonio had said yes and gone out to find the courage to make his dream of freedom and independence come true. Bonnie I am always amazed at the intensity of emotion sometimes shown by volunteers toward the poor and street people. Initially, most soup kitchen volunteers are hesitant and even afraid. Few are prepared for the reality of human degradation, begging, and manipulation one is exposed to as part of the daily routine of providing minimal food to hundreds of hungry men, women, and children. Some turn away in tears or disgust; others are drawn to their fellow human beings through compassion, like moths to a flame. But sooner or later if they don't walk away, the inevi-table questions will arise. How can they live like this? Why doesn't the city do something? Where will they sleep tonight? They are all so sad; doesn't this get to you after awhile? Bonnie was a kind, loving woman from one of the many church groups that volunteer on a regular basis one evening each month. I had noticed Bonnie on her firsf day of volunteering while she was serving sandwiches. During her next few evenings in the serving line, she was withdrawn and reluctant to interact with the guests, as though she would rather be in the kitchen. Bonnie avoided any friendly contact except to plop a sandwich on a waiting plate. I had hoped for an opportunity to speak to Bonnie privately during the cleanup routine. "Well, how was it in the serving line tonight, Bon-nie?" I asked as dishes and pots were being scrubbed. She looked down at her feet and said anxiously, "Seeing all those men eating here really bothers me. My husband and I work hard for what Review for Religious, November-December 1990 we have. Why can't they get a job? Why am I expected to take care of them with my hard-earned tax money?" Clearly, Bonnie was torn emotionally between the teachings of Je-sus on love and charity she had heard all her life, and her present feel-ings of indignation, anger, and disgust. And the ~onflict inside showed on her face. This was not a time for reminders that we are to pray for God's forgiveness and strive for empathy for others. At that moment, what Bonnie needed was understanding and peace. I knew she could not yet be aware that coming to resolution about her feelings and attitude to-ward the soup kitchen guests meant that she herself would become the broken bread offered by Christ on the cross. Bonnie was too full of bit-terness and frustration. "I'd like you to meet one of our guests sometime, Bonnie," I said to her gently. "He's quite a character. And I hope you'll give us and yourself a second chance before you make up your mind about soup kitch-ens and street people." "I don't think I'll be back," Bonnie said. 'I just can't stand seeing all those lazy men ripping us all off, when they could be working and taking care of themselves." Her face was lined with anger and she pushed the broom even harder on the dining hall floor. I shared a few words of comfort but I did not push her to commit to another volunteer shift. Bonnie needed time to sort out her feelings. About two months later, I saw Bonnie walk in the front door with her church group. She still had a look of hostility and reluctance. I was afraid that if she could not get beyond her anger, she might lash out at one of the guests, or cause them to react to her in a negative way. "I'm glad you came back, Bonnie," I said. "Maybe you'd rather work in the kitchen instead of the soup line today." "No," Bonnie replied grimly. "I'm going to try the serving line one more time." "Maybe you'll get to meet Jim later," I suggested. "We'll see," she said. I was busy that suppertime and didn't get back to Bonnie until the end of the serving. I had Jim by the hand when we approached her. "Jim, I want you to meet Bonnie,'" I introduced them. Jim smiled a semi-toothless grin and shoved his hand toward Bonnie for a friendly shake. She shook his hand. I wondered what it took from her to give that little inch. "Jim is a regular here, Bonnie. He's been with us a long time," I explained. "Jim is one of the first guests we were able to help get off Spiritual Direction in Social Action Ministries / il07 the streets. Now he helps out with cleanup and carrying in heavy food boxes." I backed out of the conversation as Jim was bending Bonnie's ear about his latest fishing exploits. Later Bonnie found me in the laundry room. "Jim's a real charac-ter and I realize why you brought him over to me," she said. "I haven't changed my mind about the rest of the men. But I do see that there may be more to the soup kitchen and the guests than I've been willing to admit," Bonnie confided. "I guess I need some time here to figure it all out." "All of us had to begin somewhere, Bonnie," I replied. "Maybe a place to start is thinking of the guests, volunteers, even the food--the whole soup kitchen--as sharing God's love. I would be glad to listen any-time you want to talk through your frustrations," I said encouragingly. We exchanged a hug. Bonnie gave me a big grin when she left with her friends. As a shelter and soup kitchen director, I found I needed to be teacher, counselor, community organizer, and peacemaker. But there was also a greater need than crisis intervention and social work referral for housing and health care. In the context of providing meals and shel-ter in a church social ministry, people were drawn closer together. They were forced to interact, ask questions, and struggle with conflicting emo-tions and injustices. I saw the need for a guide who had been exposed to the tradition and teachings of spiritual directipn. One who has lived enough of his or her own spiritual journey to be able to recognize oth-ers' struggles and to offer spiritual leadership beyond cooking, cleaning, and begging would be a good job description. Spiritual Development and Social Ministry Antonio, Bonnie, and many others in the soup kitchen have shown me that there is a lot more to hands-on church social ministries than giv-ing out sandwiches, collecting clothes, and providing shelter. I had scarcely been at St. Luke's soup kitchen (Atlanta, Georgia) two months before I realized that volunteers' needs were as critical as those of street people. Having worked with a large number of soup kitchen participants in the last eleven years, ! have seen that they often progress through spiri-tual growth stages. These stages generally correspond to the spiritual de-velopment outlined in the writings of such spiritual masters as St.-Ter-esa of Avila, St. Ignatius, St. Augustine, Thomas Greene, and Bernard Lonergan to name a few. 1. Awakening:3 Soup kitchen volunteers and guests are spiritual seek-ers in much the same way as directees are in spiritual direction. The soup Review for Religious, November-December 1990 kitchen director must establish an atmosphere which nurtures the possi-bility that all participants might be seeking spiritual growth along with advocacy, washing dirty dishes, and consuming numerous cups of sugar-filled coffee. Often the food sought and given is as much spiritual as physi-cal. The social ministry as a community needs to encourage the devel-opment of relationships as brothers and sisters rather than helpers and de-pendents. The Holy Spirit prods us all and no less so in the serving line of a soup kitchen. One of the most frequent comments from new soup kitchen volun-teers is one of surprise. They cannot wait to tell me, "I never knew it would be like this." The new volunteers sometime become so enthusi-astic they want to solve all the social ills and problems at one time. In their hurry to do something, they fail to let the totality of the soup kitchen experience filter into their inner depths. The impact of the similarity be-tween their own lives, hopes, and desires and those of the street people may elude them. Street people would seem to come to a soup kitchen because they need to eat, get out of the rain, or read the newspaper for a job. All of these reasons are usually true. But many also come from spiritual and psychological hunger. They need to be affirmed as human beings. They want friendship and to know that someone cares about them in the midst of their loneliness and alienation. And like everyone else, they have dif-ficulty in asking for what they want. Anger, manipulation, begging, pro-crastination, and even lethargy can mask a more basic plea for the love and compassion that cannot be found on the hostile streets. Casting volunteers and guests as mutual seekers of God's love helps to lessen the artificial line between dependent and provider. However, raising the awareness of both that each has gifts to offer the other may carry some risk. Life in'the streets dictates survival at all costs and is a set of learned behaviors. This might mean guests are immersed in the violence of poverty and substance abuse. Emotional problems, poor so-cialization skills, and mental illness are magnified by the stress of not knowing where the next meal or bed for the night will be found. Volunteers may come to a soup kitchen to play out an unhealthy need to dominate. They may see themselves as rescuer or savior. Volunteers can even burden already embtionally drained street people with their own consuming need for acceptance and love masked by acts of charity. These are reasons enough for soup kitchen managers and volunteers to have some training in lay qgunseling and spiritual direction. Meager funds for supplies and staffing and lack of housing, jobs, and Spiritual Direction in Social Action Ministries services may force participants into a negative emotional drain and the constant crisis of problem-solving. The stereotypes of despair and dis-ease of social distance can be lifted from guests and volunteers. Despite a naive or discouraging beginning, guests and volunteers can progress beyond the initial stage of being locked into a give-and-take, us-versus-them, relationship. The community's life depends on its ability to jug-gle logistical and physical demands with emotional, psychological ones. An awakening to the spiritual life of the soup kitchen for both volunteers and guests is enabled by the continual return to the wellspring of hope, the Holy Spirit. 2. A Hard Look: After the introductory experience, the volunteer usu-ally begins to ask, why? Why are so many people living on the street? Why are the mentally ill and sick not hospitalized? Why am I expected to take care of the lazy? And then, why am I going home to comfort when these people have so little? Why does not somebody do something? This may create conflicted feelings for those who see themselves as car-ing, religious people. The good intentions of even the most dedicated vol-unteer can fade into frustration and resentment. But in spite of these dif-ficulties, questioning becomes the seed of opportunity to widen one's ho-rizons and allow a graced transformation. If questions arise and expectations are challenged for volunteers, they are doubly so for guests. Even the most dejected and apathetic of the poor hold their dignity and self-worth as a jewel more valuable than food or shelter. A bowl of soup or a sandwich firmly thrust back to a surprised volunteer will attest to a guest's rejection of real or imagined insensitivity. While many long-term street residents have given up ques-tioning injustices or reasons for their meager living, just as many will talk for as long as anyone will listen to a recollection of past slights, in-dignities, or woes. We all need to tell our stories. And once in awhile, some thought-provoking wisdom and insights can be the reward of the patiently attentive volunteer. The volunteer's emotional struggle with the realities of soup kitchen and street people can be everything from threatening to enlightening. Con-fronted with painful feelings, the need for empathy with guests, respon-sibility, and sometimes guilt, some soup kitchen volunteers turn away. They seek other ways to express an option for the poor. Others find ex-cuses to reject the homeless. They blame the victim. Barriers may be erected; barriers of power disguised as benevolent decision-making and anger as righteous indignation. Still other volunteers begin to realize the humanity and humility they share with all peopl+ as children of God. The Review for Religious, November-December 1990 same compassion that emerges from questioning and consciousness-raising impels these volunteers to seek a deeper understanding and ex-perience of the wounded Christ-of-the-streets. 3. Judging--the Bottom Line: Volunteers who persevere join the regu-lars in the social ministry community. They adopt a favorite job or rou-tine of doing the various daily tasks. They come to accept the dilemma of soup kitchens and street life as having no comfortable answers nor neat solutions. Success becomes enough soup or sandwiches for a day's meal, finding eyeglasses for a guest who needs them for work, or locat-ing temporary housing for a young family with children. Old hands be-come well acquainted with the idiosyncrasies of particular guests. Friend-ships develop. New, bewildered guests are shepherded through the soup kitchen routine which has over time become the bricks-and-mortar of daily operation. Success in social change is also expected. Volunteers point with pride to street people who attain middle-class goals: jobs, apartments, sobriety, and normalcy. Experienced volunteers begin to draw parallels with some of Jesus' teachings and parables: the Good Shepherd, those who are last will be first, and workers paid equally for differing times of service. More enthusiastic volunteers may take on the task of main-taining the organization with fund-raising and building renovation proj-ects. The disparity between the homeless people who remain jobless, clothed in rags, and in need of food and shelter and coworkers and fam-ily who enjoy a more comfortable lifestyle is less a focus than getting the job done. Many of the poor who have lived on and off the streets are way ahead of new volunteers in a spirituality of detachment and interior search-ing. Destitute and lacking the basic necessities of food and shelter, they. are forced to fall back on inner resources. Some street survivors exhibit an inner depth of understanding and resilient wisdom of Jesus as Libera-tor. They reflect an unshakable faith and contemplative spirituality. I sometimes wish I could be as in touch with my dark side as they seem to be. However just as often, incredible stress, fear of violence, and physi-cal and mental deprivation block the development of these means to over-come depression and despair. The rhythm of daily life of the soup kitchen community rises and falls with the extreme heat of summer, winter cold, Friday paydays, and surplus holiday charity. Volunteers and guests come and go. When guests do not meet expectations of a middle-class work-ethic or a period of sobriety or mental stability ends, volunteers may become discouraged Spiritual Direction in Social Action Ministries and leave to find greener pastures and better shepherds. But the very rest-lessness that seems to hinder an inner, spiritual examination is also an invitation to challenge preconceived ideas of what is success in a social ministry. The soup kitchen and night shelter offer daily opportunities to let go of cultural or popular false standards of guests' worthiness. 4. Light from Darkness: Volunteers who get beyond the questioning stage and embrace the compunction that follows a realization of their so-cial and inner blindness witness to an enlightened conversion. Their pri-orities change. They begin to view themselves, their families and friends, churches and institutions, and most of all, the guests, with changed hearts and minds. Ragged clothes, disagreeable behaviors, and unwashed bodies fade from importance. Guests are no longer bums and derelicts but James, Mary, and Charlie. "I've been given so much more than I could ever give" is the comment most often heard. This social conversion is possible because participants have experi-enced nurturing community with other volunteers and guests. They have shared in the applied collective wisdom of spiritual guides and masters conveyed by effective social ministry managers and leaders. The soup kitchen manager/spiritual director must focus on community building that encourages everyone processing through the four steps of spiritual growth. After facing the disheartening reality of streetlife poverty and violence, volunteers and guests come to realize through the attentive di-rection of experienced ministry leaders that their only meaningful re-sponse must be one of being as well as doing. Social ministry teachers can model a definition of being that elimi-nates the artificial yardsticks that manipulate and shape people's lives in ways our Creator never intended. Being comes to mean accepting the brother or sister, volunteer or guest, who chooses self-defeat or an un-sympathetic and often critical, closed mind. And most of all, being means seeking the Psalmist's humble and contrite heart in the midst of rejection and the temptation to put distance between self and other. A simple illustration is the end piece from a loaf of bread. Uniniti-ated volunteers might toss the heel into the trash without a second thought. Seasoned veterans however, make use of every scrap by turn-ing the heel outward. They remember lean days of not enough bread for the many sandwiches needed. They have seen men, women, and even children go hungry. Not only are they grateful for our daily bread but they appreciate their own helplessness in the face of grinding poverty and suffering. These volunteers have come to see God face-to-face in the eyes of the poor. Every gift of Creation has become precious to them. Review for Religious, November-December 1990 This is only one of many daily lessons the soup kitchen community can teach and the conscientious director can encourage. Success in the soup kitchen is God's gift to define and to give. Bib-lical personhood and scriptural freedom empower a realization of our need to be vulnerable to each other. We bring all we are, past and pres-ent, to the soup kitchen serving line. Through our relationships, our hearts are stirred to question and search our inner selves and to reach out to our neighbors as to God.4 After finally co.ming to understand and em-l~ race Jesus' meaning of Go.spel poverty, the point of conversion for the social ministry activist becomes the same as the contemplative/directee: the unitive experience. Antonio and Bonnie taught me through their searching and struggle that social ministry can be as much a place of spiritual seeking and guid-ance as my experience of spiritual direction. I saw that people in soup kitchens and shelters were asking for what spiritual direction had to of-fer. God's love for us and desire to be with us through the gift of Son and Spirit is the eternal constant. Our task as both spiritual directors and spiritual guides in social ministries is to be willing to struggle for con-tinued openness and vulnerability to that gift brought to us by guests and volunteers. Soup Kitchen Managers and Spiritual Directors The previous illustrations invite practical ways to integrate action and contemplation, the personal and the social, in soup kitchens and spiri-tual direction. The work of both soup kitchen manager and spiritual di-rector is a good example of the interconnection of spirituality and spiri-tual direction with social ministry. Volunteers and street people usually do not ask for spiritual direction from soup kitchen managers. And di-rectees do not often associate social ministry with their prayer life un-less encouraged to do so by their spiritual directors. But hunger of the heart and searching for God's love and guidance pervade both environ- I am suggesting that soup kitchen managers and spiritual directors must examine the opposite side of their area of expertise to lead to a more balanced ministry and to be more open to God's promise for justice and mercy. However, social ministry managers need not become spiritual di-rectors nor directors, soup kitchen managers. The interactions between a soup kitchen manager, volunteers, and street persons are not the same as those in spiritual direction or intervention. The methods of social min-istry organization and management, schools of spirituality (Ignatian, Fran-ciscan, Carmelite, Augustinian), socio-political thought, and even life Spiritual Direction in Social Action Ministries goals for directees, volunteers, and street people may vary widely. But these two activities have more similar than dissimilar aspects. Identifying the importance of spiritual direction and social action as part of an integrated whole in both ministries is the concern of effective managers and directors. The issue is the recognition of the reciprocal con-nection between the two ministries. The question is not whether the soup kitchen responds first to physical or spiritual needs. Nor is it whether con-templative prayer or an awareness of social consciousness predominate in spiritual direction. There are several points where spiritual direction and social mifiistry coincide: A. Holy Spirit: Our ministries and our lives must flow from Holy Scripture and the indwelling Spirit of Christ. The guidance of the Holy Spirit must always be foremost in our own paths and our involvement in the journeys of others. Discernment of that guidance is discovered in community with others in both individual spiritual direction and in so-cial activities such as soup kitchens. We need to support and nourish each other in our experience of and search for God's gift of love. B. Purpose and Goals: Any spiritual director will admit that before a working relationship can be established with a directee, a determina-tion of what the directee desires from direction must be explored. The goals and purpose of direction must flow from the life, prayer, and ex-periences of the directee. A soup kitchen is no different. On the surface, the purpose may seem to be distribution of food, social work, a sympa-thetic ear, and hopefully, the strength to go on another day. But the mo-tivations of the volunteers, manager, and street people in the soup kitchen community must be considered as important and basic as pro-viding soup, sandwiches, and even friendship. Unconscious messages about worthiness, authority, manipulation, and social statements can creep into the daily life of any hands-on social ministry or spiritual direction relationship. We must be clear in what we are about as helping people and .as concerned, activist communities to-ward those who seek direction or bread. The consequences can be the perpetuation of the suffering and oppression of the poor, a hindrance of the spiritual unfolding and growth of direct.ees, and a floundering for guid-ance by volunteers and workers. The ministry can become part of an on-going or potential problem instead of an instrument of God's peace. Openness to seeing God in my neighbor is fostered by encouraging healthy interaction between guests and volunteers. Joint meetings of both provide insights for planning, alleviate misunderstandings, and build com-munity among participants. Goals clarification and the scriptural basis Review for Religious, November-December 1990 or theme of the soup kitchen needs to be discussed and reiterated through training sessions with volunteers and in meetings with volunteers and guests. Quarterly soup kitchen orientations can offer the opportunity to learn communication and listening skills, positive ways to vent anger and frustration, and sharing feelings of sadness and pain. Attention to detail can encourage the mandates of the Gospel good news, peace and justice for the people of God. Trained volunteers who mingle ';vith guests during mealtimes can facilitate a calm release of the pain, rejection, and dehumanization of street life. Colorful banners do-nated by supporting churches or made in guest/volunteer sessions help to illustrate and affirm the soup kitchen's scriptural themes, such as the Good Shepherd, Matthew 25, and the Bread of Life. Seasonal celebra-tions, monthly birthday recognition, and encouraging on-site social ser-vices help to foster a family-oriented environment. We must live what we believe especially when becoming open to an awareness of the real-ity of the peace and justice of Jesus. C. Street People and Directees: People who live on the streets in ab-ject poverty are God's children in crisis. The wounded, hungry bodies that line up each day for food are also wounded spirits who directly or indirectly seek the fellowship that feeds the heart. All participants in the social ministry community, volunteers, staff, and street people, need to be aware of and be sensitive to the friendship needs as well as physical needs of the other members. The requirement goes both ways amongst volunteers and guests. Soup kitchen managers can no more ignore the Gospel good news of empowerment for the poor than can a spiritual di-rector become heavy-handed with advice and admonitions for the di-rectee. This sensitivity is necessary if everyone is going to move beyond lim-iting their efforts to subsistence needs and toward the mandate of Jesus, friendship, peace, and justice. Tho.ugh the goal of personal and commu-nal empowerment of poor people may seem distant and unobtainable, it is our Bethlehem star. If we do not keep in our awareness and striving the justice promised by God and echoed by Mary in her song, the Mag-nificat, our ministry, faith, and words will become St. Paul's metaphor, the clanging cymbal. The guidance and leadership for discernment to-warc~ this justice most often falls to the manager and spiritual director. Likewise, with directees, the spiritual director has a responsibility to dispel the myth of our tradition that the experience of God and the love of Christ can be a personal, private affair.5 The totality of a graced, trans-formed life is not for the benefit of the directee. St. Teresa of Avila re- Spiritual Direction in Social Action Ministries / ~1"15 minded us that we are meant to be the eyes, hands, and feet of Jesus in the world today. The Center for Spirituality and Justice has demonstrated a social-consciousness aspect to spiritual direction that must be part of the journey of director and directee if there is to be true discernment of .God's will~6 D. Volunteers: Church social ministries can be an extension of Je-sus' example to share ourselves and the fruits of the earth, food, shelter, and resources, with those in need. A deeper responsibility and outgrowth of the working of God's grace in everyone's life is stretching out a physi-cal and spiritual hand in friendship and unity. But for many middle-class volunteers who have never experienced the poverty, degradation, and suffering of those who live on the streets, a first-time exposure can be unnerving and challenging to their comfortable lives. Street people are not the only soup kitchen participants who experi-ence emotional crisis. Seeing firsthand the suffering and dehumanization of street life, many volunteers are distraught when they connect their rela-tively comfortable lives with the misery of homeless people. When food, clothing, an offer to listen, or a smile is refused with unkind words, vol-unteers may feel confused, rejected or angry. A misunderstanding be-tween guest and volunteer can result in "yes" instead of "no" as the answer to an inappropriate query. Just as street people bring their emotional baggage in the front door, volunteers can unload psychological traumas, too. Unresolved sexual needs, psychotic disorders, substance abuse, and authoritarian domi-nance can cause serious problems in the soup kitchen, community. Even though volunteers' emotional issues can't be compared to the sufferings of street people, a soup kitchen manager having some training in lay coun-seling and spiritual direction is helpful for the emotional and spiritual di-lemmas faced by volunteers and guests. For the social ministry manager just as for the spiritual director, their own spiritual direction and a peer group providing support, wisdom, and guidance needs to be part of the organization of the ministry. E. Leadership: Managers and Directors: The relationship between a soup kitchen manager and volunteer or street person is not identical to that of a spiritual director and a directee'. However, the responsibilities of the manager and director in regard to the spiritual foundations of their work with others and their own spiritual journey are so similar that com-parisons can be made. If a soup kitchen 6r.any social ministry is not to become a sterile institution, the guidelines or working plan of operation must be thoughtfully and prayerfully discussed and discerned over time. Review for Religious, November-December 1990 "What is God's will for me" in spiritual direction is parallel to and comparable with "What is God's will for us, volunteers and street peo-ple," in a soup kitchen. The spiritual director and the direction relation-ship provide the backdrop against which the directee wrestles with his or her issues in listening to a loving God. Likewise, the basic rules and logistics of feeding hundreds of people daily must be wrestled with so that dignity and the love we show each other are not compromised using the excuse ofjoblessness, smelly clothes, or efficacy in operation. While including the poor and powerless in decision-making roles can be threat-ening, it is the fulfillment of Jesus' Good News. The soup kitchen manager and the spiritual director are responsible not for the success of the kitchen, the progress of the directee, or even determining what connotes that success or progress. One who seeks to lead must be a follower; a manager or director must create an environ- " ment whereby volunteers, street people, and directees seek their own spiri-tual journey with support and guidance for discernment of God's will for them. The outward emphasis may differ from soup kitchen to spiritual direction but for the director and the manager, the spiritual task is the same. Conclusion There is value in drawing parallels in principle and practicality be-tween contemplative spirituality, spiritual direction and social conscious-ness, and the theological and spiritual organization of social ministries. Flexibility and imagination are necessary to compare the leadership and organizational abilities of a soup kitchen manager with the skills and train-ing of a spiritual director. We can show that the experiences of the vol-unteers and street people can follow a pattern of spiritual development. And directees and their spiritual directors can explore the social as well as personal experience of the Holy Spirit in their lives. In the face of violence, learned dependency, ignorance, and biased prejudices, hearts and minds as yet unawakened are waiting for the power of God's transforming grace: Spiritual direction and social min-istry are not two journeys originating from disparate starting points. Each of these spiritual paths flows from the other and back to nourish those who find themselves to be both contemplative and activist. Spiritual Direction in Social Action Ministries NOTES i D. Bernsweiger, D. McCarty, and L. Rhodes, Eds. Spirituality, Ministry, and Field Education: Theological Field Education, Key Resources, Vol. V. (San Francisco: Assn. for Theological Field Education, 1986), p. 52. Research by the Center for Spiri-tuality and Justice, Bronx, New York, on spiritual direction and social conscious-ness. "Social consciousness" as based on Peter Henriot's, (S.J.) thesis that the re-ality of the human person must take into account the individual, interpersonal, and public dimensions of human existence (p. 5 I). A person is simultaneously engaged in intense intrapersonal activity and consciousness, ongoing interpersonal relation-ships, and living out her or his life within a set of established and defined structures and institutions in the societal area (p. 52). 2 St. Teresa of Avila, The Collected Works of St. Teresa ofAvila: Vol. One, trans. Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. and Otilio Rodriguez, O.C.D. (Washington, D.C. : ICS Pubs., 1976), p. 125. 3 Bernard Lonergan, Method in Theology. (New York: Seabury Press, 1972), pp. 8- 20. The four stages of enlightenment for soup kitchen participants is based on Lon-ergan's transcendental method. '~ Karl Rahner, "Reflections on the Unity of the Love of Neighbor and the Love of God." Theological Reflections, Vol. VI. (New York: Seabury Press, 1971), p. 232, p. 239. 5 lbid, pp. 242-244, 246. 6 Bernsweiger, McCarty, and Rhodes, pp. 53-54. Morning Office Here in my house of silence I stand beside you, Zachary. The song you cannot sing Trembles on your lips;. My song Pours in wordless rivers From quiet eyes. We stand together Lonely, waiting to sing Our canticle. Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B. St. Scholastica Priory 7430 North Ridge Chicago, Illinois 60645 Living Our Liberation Through Justice and Spirituality Linda Rich, C.D.P. Sister Linda Rich, C. D. P., is a graduate of the Institute of Pastoral Studies at" Loyola University of Chicago. She currently works as part of the administrative team of NET-WORK, a national Catholic social justice lobby in Washington, D.C. Her address is 806 Rhode Island Avenue, NE; Washington, D.C. 20018. In the past one hundred years, and more vocally in recent years, part of the Christian community is specifically addressing social problems through systemic and structural analysis and applying Christian value prin-ciples to these problems (for example poverty, war). In the North Ameri-can and European culture, theologians, bishops, and the Vatican are do-ing this analysis and reflection by developing social ethics and a large written corpus of Catholic social teaching. In other cultures, Christians are interested in finding ways to make the Gospel real through experiencing liberation from injustice. This in-dicates that the developing social ethics need a lived reality, an experi-enced spirituality if we, as a whole community of the People of Go~l, are to respond to this recovered Gospel of social justice. That void is now being filled in and fleshed out. The writers and think-ers in the fields of spirituality and social justice are beginning to coa-lesce, to meet on mutual ground. Liberation theologians are now writ-ing about the spirituality of liberation: for example, Spirituality of Libera-tion: Toward Political Holiness, Jon Sobrino, Orbis Books, 1988, and The Way of Living Faith: A Spirituality of Liberation, Segundo Galilea, Harper & Row, 1988. North American spirituality writers are now speak-ing of how spirituality is intimately linked with social transformation: for example, Social Re~,elation: Profound Challenge for Christian Spiritu- 818 Living Our Liberation Through Justice and Spirituality ality, James E. Hug, S.J. and Rose Marie Scherschel, Center of Con-cern, 1987, and Spirituality and Liberation, Robert McAfee Brown, West-minster Press, 1988. Grass-roots movements within the Christian community are also bring-ing spirituality and justice together. The Catholic Worker movement con-cretely lives out social spirituality as envisaged by Dorothy Day and Pe-ter Maurin more than fifty years ago. They feed the hungry and welcome the homeless, while at the same time challenge the social structures that create this reality. As such, they speak against the national budget pri-orities for weapons instead of a priority for food and housing, for exam-ple. They are joined with others in the peace movement, the feminist/ women's movement, and the racial and economic equality movements, which all have collectives of people who are motivated and sustained in this activity by the Christian call to discipleship and by other spiritual values and beliefs. While these manifestations of justice spirituality are all happening within the Christian community, the message of the social justice dimen-sions of spirituality have not yet been carried into the mainstream, how-ever. A new theology and practice of spirituality needs to be unfolded, articulated, and fostered in the Christian community-at-large. A new un-derstanding of how spirituality is, and needs to be, vitally connected with justice will then begin to emerge for the average Catholic in the pew. Donal Dorr comments: "Perhaps the most effective way in which the Church can influence human behavior is by promoting a particular kind of spirituality." ~ Personal and Social Transformation Spirituality and social justice are closely related, both being trans-formative processes. Spirituality, as I am using it here, is our process of personal transformation. Through spiritual practices (meditation, prayer, liturgical ritual) and through the living out of the fruits of these in our lives, we become better persons, more loving, more congruent with the values we profess. We grow and mature as persons and become psychologically and spiritually integrated. Justice is the process of bringing social groups into right relation-ships with each other. It is the transformation of legal or violent enforce-ment of the domination of one group of people over another (men over women, rich over poor, one race over another). Justice transforms domi-nant/ submissive relationships into partnerships.2 Oppressive violence is transformed into peace and freedom when justice is present. Both justice and spirituality are journeys into freedom, moving from 820/Review for Religious, November-December 1990 being bound to a more free state. There is movement from being en-slaved by forces outside our control to having choices about our lives. This movement happens (and power is shifted) by our being able and will-ing to take up the struggle for freedom and undergo the suffering re-quired. "There is no transformation of person or society without suf-fering, and the suffering which brings about such change is truly re-demptive.' ,3 And so, it is very important to discern and determine which particular path leads to greater life through death and which path leads to dead ends, defeat, and a conquered death. Each choice, whether stay-ing with things as they are or choosing for change, has its own risks and consequences. These must be carefully considered. And as in any authen-tic journey, there are risks and perils along the way. Courage, persever-ance, and support from others are required for both the personal and so-cial transformative journeys. We can see some parallels between justice and spirituality. There is also an integrity present that is often missed. Both are needed in con-junction with each other to have true justice and true spirituality. This is so because either of these in isolation from the other is destructive. Historical examples include the way the Church sometimes has pro-moted an escapist spirituality which accepted injustice for other operat-ing benefits by the political powers that be. On the other hand, in socie-ties that have repressed spirituality and religion, great violence has been done in the name of social equality. This also plays itself out within the Christian community where division is created, with splits of "devout" and "activist" factions who distrust each other. Experience shows that spirituality and social justice are a graced dynamic, and split off from each other render both ineffective, irrelevant, and destructive. When these two are integrated, however, the world and the Chris-tian community are graced with life-giving energies. There are many ex-amples in our North American experience. Pax Christi, a Catholic peace organization, uses a threefold approach of prayer, study, and action, com-bining the elements of spirituality and activism. They are in the forefront of efforts to promote a vow of nonviolence, a wonderful way of rooting a committed life of peace within a rich spiritual tradition. The commu-nity of Sojourners (Washington, DC), as part of the Christian evangeli-cal tradition, ministers through their monthly publication, neighborhood organizations, justice resources, and organizing national days of prayer and nonviolent resistance. NETWORK is a national Catholic social jus-tice lobby that attempts to influence the formation of public policy in the interest of the poor and powerless. It lobbies members of Congress to Living Our Liberation Through Justice and Spirituality enact laws providing access to economic resources, fairness in national funding, and justice in global relationships, Another facet of the relationship of personal and social transforma-tion is that these two are not necessarily simultaneous or synonymous; one does not automatically follow the other. A liberation scholar states it this way: Social change by itself does not create a new person, in the same way that transforming persons do not automatically induce a new social or-der. The creation of a new person and a new social order takes place within a dialectical interaction.4 So we can see that a conscious link needs to be made between our spiri-tual growth as transforming persons and our justice work of transform-ing society, or that link will not be made. Some people who invest time and money in the human potential move-ment for personal psychological and spiritual growth make the social con-nections beyond themselves, and some do not. Those who fail to con-nect their personal growth to a wider social vision will probably become shortsighted, turned in on themselves (stunted), and "whistling in the dark while the world goes to hell in a hand basket." Likewise, some so-cial activists who spend tremendous amounts of personal time and en-ergy organizing campaigns for justice do so from the fruits of their spiri-tual growth, and some do not. Those who fail to connect to a spiritual source will probably fall victim to burnout, cynicism, and self-righteous-ness. It is essential, I think, to recognize the inherent integrity of spiritu-ality and social justice within a "both/and" holistic framework. Too often they have been split apart, to the detriment of both. This dichot-omy needs to be healed and is being healed in the coming age. Conversion and Social Liberations In my experience, the education and consciousness-raising of justice work begins to effect a real transformation process in individuals, and in groups of people. This journey of transformation and liberation is one of conversion, a qualitative change, a living of life in new ways. Con-version (whether religious, intellectual, individual, or social), involves a three-part process of !) dying to the old, 2) an in-between period, and 3) a new orientation. Initially we feel confusion and conflict, we experience a resultant in-ability to continue living as we have been, and we know the need to find ~199 / Review for Religious, November-December 1990 new ways of living. Once this process is entered into, things will never be quite the same again. (You cannot put the toothpaste back in the tube.) We find that we may creep slowly or may suddenly leap into a different frame of reference. We are brought into a whole new level of relating-- with a social consciousness~to God, to ourselves, and to others. Albert Nolan describes our growth into social consciousness in four stages.6 (He addresses this to the specific problem of poverty, though the principles can be applied in regard to other oppressed groups of people as well, it seems to me.) The first stage is characterized by our compas-sion, brought about by exposure through experience or information re-garding the sufferings of the poor. This compassion is generally ex-pressed in two kinds of action: relief work (distributing food and alms-giving), and simplification of lifestyle (voluntary poverty). The second stage is entered when we acknowledge the structural prob-lems as social in.justice. Things are the way they are because social struc-tures are set up to serve the interests of some people over others. Anger and guilt may arise when we become aware that poverty is largely a re-sult of oppression. Now our charity of the first stage is joined by justice in the second; both are necessary. In the third stage, we join humility with service to the poor. We need the poor for our liberation, also, and often we are unaware of the gifts they are and have for us. It is this humility (owning our own poverty) that tempers our "doing for the poor" into befriending them. At the same time, one hazard here is to put the poor/working class on a pedes-tal, to idealize them into something they are not. This can lead to disil-lusionment, disappointment, and burnout when we discover the illusion of our own making. The fourth and last stage is one of.real solidarity. This is the experi-ence of recognizing the faults and weaknesses of the poor as well as of ourselves, and at the same time, knowing that we can be on the same side against oppression. Now we experience the struggle of liberation to-gether. The second major aspect is that social consciousness is an essential part of conversion, not the results of it. Socioeconomic life is not a corollary to our relationship with God. It is not simply the arena in which conversion and love of God flow out into love of neighbor--if God so leads us. Social concern and work for jus-tice are not just the outgrowths of Christian conversion. Prayerful involve-ment in socioeconomic life and reflection on it are prerequisites to know-ing and relating intimately with God, not the results of it.7 Living Our Liberation Through Justice and Spirituality/ This concept is rife with implications for the i~ntegration of social con-sciousness into our spiritual life. If we discern God's revelation to us ex-clusively in our interior movements (within ourselves), then "we receive only a partial, distorted image of God. We are ignoring part of the reve-lation of God. We run the danger of fostering, . . a selfless, dedicated and energetic service of the status quo with aH its unjust institutions."8 Our spirituality, without the social revelation component, will most likely, though unwittingly, serve the continuance of injustice. A third connection between conversion and the transformative pro-cess of justice is the image of liberation for the spiritual process. Rather than relying exclusively on the traditional image of union and intimacy with God for spiritual growth,9 we may well include "conversion as lib-eration" as a complementary image. For truly all conversion is a liber-ating experience from our false selves and an enlivening and freeing ex-perience of our true selves. As the image of spiritual union speaks to the part in each of us that seeks attachment, belonging, and inclusion, the image of liberation speaks to the part in each of us that seeks freedom and autonomy. For people who are victims of others and/or society, for people who feel enslaved interiorly by addictions or by life circumstances, this lib-eration process imaged and named as such can be a tremendous motiva-tion and empowerment for change in personal and spiritual development and for social activism. Paul proclaims: "The world itself will be freed from its slavery to corruption and share in the glorious freedom of the children of God" (Rm 8:21). Implications A great challenge lies before us. World crises every day remind us of how fragile and precarious our planet and our common situation is as human beings. We can deny and numb ourselves to this reality. We can let it in and live in despair and be crushed by it. Or we can forge new ways of living, "ministering to the breakthrough" (as named by Pat and Gerald Mische of Global Education Associates) of a surviving and just world. Members of religious congregations can be in the forefront of this breakthrough, on the prophetic cutting edge a's it were. We have a pub-lic role in the Christian community and many congregations are interna-tional. More than one congregation now has Non-Governmental Organ-izational (NGO) status at the United Nations. These and other innovative ways to minister to the breakthrough can be communally explored and implemented. Though each congregation faces the lack of personnel and 8241 Review for Religious, November-December 1990 finances in a different way, we can continue to be supportive of those people and organizations that integrate faith and justice. The integration of spirituality and justice is a key component of min-istering to the breakthrough. It requires a change in thinking as well as in acting, in theory as well as in praxis. Only the combined strength of the theory and practice of spirituality and justice will carry us through into the future. NOTES ~ Donal Dorr, Option for the Poor: A Hundred Years of Vatican Social Teaching (Ma-ryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis Books, 1983), p. 59. 2 Riane Eisler, The Chalice and the Blade: Our History, Our Future (San Francisco, CA: Harper & Row, 1987), pp. 198-203. This shift is elaborated on in depth here. 3 Carolyn Osiek, R.S.C.J., Beyond Anger: On Being a Feminist in the Church (Mah-weh, N.J.: Paulist Press, 1986), p. 83. '~ lsmael Garcia, Justice in Latin American Theology of Liberation (Atlanta, Geor-gia: John Knox Press, 1987), p. 80. 5 See Osiek, Beyond Anger, p. 44-63, for an insightful development of conversion and transformation in a liberation context. 6 Albert Nolan, O.P., "Spiritual Growth and the Option for the Poor," Church (Bal-timore, MD: National Pastoral Life Center, 1985), Spring issue. 7 James E. Hug, S.J., and Rose Marie Scherschel, Social Revelation: Profound Chal-lenge for Christian Spirituality, (Washington, D.C. : Center of Concern, 1987), pp. 22-23. 8 Ibid, p. 23. 9 In Francis Kelly Nemeck, O.M.I. and Maria Theresa Coombs, The Spiritual Jour-ney: Critical Thresholds and Stages of Adult Spiritual Genesis (Wilmington, Dela-ware: Michael Glazier, 1987), union and intimacy image is used throughout. Spirituality of Liberation Peter G. van Breemen, S.J. Father Peter G. van Breemen, S.J., author of well-known books such as As Bread That Is Broken and Called By Name, has most recently been serving as Jesuit tertian director in Berlin. His address is Peter-Faber-Kolleg; Postfach 220018; Am Schwemmborn 3a; D-1000 Berlin (Kladow); West Germany. Much is being said and written nowadays about Theology of Liberation. The deliberate alteration to Spirituality of Liberation suggests a shift to-wards a less controversial and a more meditative approach. Spirituality The word spirituality stems from spirit. In the Old Testament it re-fers to the ruach as the divine source of human life, and in the New Tes-tament to the active presence of the Holy Spirit in our everyday personal and communal life, where it renders our faith concrete in our actions and behavior. The word spirituality also intimates that life has come to a cer-tain harmony and synthesis: what could remain a fairly objective and sometimes even abstract doctrine has become a source of life and inspi-ration; it has become integrated and operative. Spirituality is lived in the community and becomes fruitful within it, since the Spirit 'is given pri-marily to the community, and to the individual only in the community. So much about the first word of our title. Liberation The word liberation has generally more political overtones than the related word redemption. When Gustavo Gutti6rrez coined the expres-sion "Theology of Liberation" and used it as the title of his book (Lima, 1972), and when a number of his Latin American colleagues took over this expression, they wanted to make redemption more down-to-earth 826/Review for Religious, November-December 1990 and more relevant for the struggle for life. There should be no real doubt that the theologians of liberation want to articulate the Christian faith-- drawn from Scripture, received from Jesus Christ, and handed on through the Catholic Church---even though the Instruction of the Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith "On Certain Aspects of the 'Theology of Liberation,' " published in 1984, had a number of criti-cal remarks and even though one of its leading theologians (Leonardo Boff) was silenced for a year. In fact, that very Instruction plus another one of March 22, 1986 basically approve and praise the Theology of Lib-eration. It is not surprising that the rapid development of the Theology of Lib-eration in the last two decades has led to a variety of meanings of the word liberation. What unites, however, all the different schools of lib-eration theology is that--in various ways--they are all inspired by and support a movement, a dynamic, in which the poor and the underprivi-leged draw strength from their faith to fight for their dignity and against unfair exploitation. The heart of the Theology of Liberation is to be found in this movement; it is lived before it is articulated. Undoubtedly this theology (and this movement) began in Latin America, but it is equally certain that they are to be found in other parts of the world as well, like the Philippines, South Africa (Kairos document), India (State-ment of the Indian Theological Association), and other countries. What these countries have in common is obviously their great need for libera-tion, but also that Christianity is fairly recent there. Quite often, with a touch of humor, the Church in these countries is compared with a young woman, hardly twenty years old, in which comparison the Church in Europe is portrayed as an elderly lady. Along with their youth, these Churches also stress their vigor and their hope. It is a little touchy, though not unfair and not disrespectful, when they describe the climate in the European churches as winter and in theirs as spring. Let me just conclude from these remarks that a spirituality of liberation and the di-vine virtue of hc~pe go together. Pope Pius XI (1922-1939) was the first Pope tostress the place of indigenous churches. In 1926 he consecrated in St. Peter's in Rome six Chinese bishops, the first non-white bishops since the early Church. That is less than seventy-five years ago! Whereas all the Fathers of the First Vatican Council (1869-1870) were natives of Europe or North America, the Second Vatican Council gave a completely different picture. Thus it is not surprising that Vatican II speaks highly of the variety of local churches with "their own discipline, their own liturgical usage, and their Spirituality of Liberation own theological and spiritual heritage" (Lumen Gentium 23). "The Chair of Peter, it is said, protects legitimate differences, while at the same time it sees that such differences do not hinder unity, but rather con-tribute to it" (LG 13). Though not without friction and pain, this shift of the center of gravity from the Western world towards other continents goes on speedily. The prognostic indicates that in the year 2000 thirty percent of the world's Catholics will live in Europe and North America, and seventy percent in the southern hemisphere (that is, Latin America, Africa, Asia, and Oceania). We live on the eve of a new equilibrium of the Church. One sign of this is that non-western schools of theological reflection arise. They form a challenge and offer a chance. They can en-rich the people of God immensely. Covenant In a spirituality of liberation, the covenant plays a vital role-- indeed, the covenant is the very origin of our liberation. This may sound rather paradoxical, since covenant denotes a bond that binds us, which looks like the exact opposite of liberation that sets us free. Yet, Sacred Scripture is basically the long story of human liberation, precisely be-cause it is the history of the Covenant of God with his people--first with the Jewish people in the Old Testament and later in the New Testament with all God's people. From the bond of this covenant true freedom springs. This brings home to us the important truth that freedom in the Bible is not unbound, arbitrary, individualistic or irresponsible. Freedom does not mean that one can do what one likes; on the contrary, truly free per-sons are not governed by likes and dislikes, but act according to their inner convictions and conscience--in short, their true self. Freedom im-plies honesty and courage, transparency and authenticity, maturity and responsibility. Sometimes God is called the deepest Ground of our being. Even though the expression may be rather recent, the idea is not new at all. The classic phrase of St. Augustine "God is closer to me than I am to myself" says basically the same thing. If God is the deepest Ground of our being, then it is only in union with him that we can be our true selves and act freely. God is not constraining, but it is only in and through him that we come to life and freedom. Modern psychology confirms this view. It is only in a basic trust in another person (normally the mother) that the child reaches self-confidence. It is only in the security which the mother gives to the child that the latter finds the courage and even the ability to reach out. The 828/Review for Religious, November-December 1990 greater the confidence in its parents, the more open the child will be. What we can observe very clearly in children reveals a characteristic which remains through the whole of life. A person who is secure in the love of someone else can afford to go out into the ever widening space of life and to respond to the world's ever growing challenges. True freedom is the fruit of true love which one has experienced and/ or is still experiencing. I shall not dwell on the sad and often tragic as-pects of the counterpart of these psychological data, but rather state that for me these psychological insights point to God as the ultimate fulfill-ment of our basic need. Of course, I am aware that I make a jump from the level of psychological experiences to the level of faith. I am not try-ing to prove anything, only to suggest and to hint. It is in the covenant that God gives his chosen people the security we are talking about. "I shall be your God and you shall be my peo-ple" is God's summary of the covenant. God binds himself to his peo-ple; he is their support and guarantee. In doing so, he invites the people to bind themselves to him in faithful obedience. When the people accept this invitation, the bond of the covenant is the basis of their freedom. At an early stage of the Jewish history this mighty care of God as the origin of their freedom is exemplified in the exodus from the slavery in Egypt. In fact, one can say that the Exodus is the beginning of the Jews as a nation; up until that moment they were no more than a gang of slaves, who were exploited in unbearably hard forced labor (Ex 2:23). It is in the miraculous event of their liberation from Egypt and their pas-sage through the Sea of Reeds that they become a people. God reveals himself as their God, their liberator, the origin of their national identity. From generation to generation they keep celebrating the marvel of their liberation as the outstanding evidence of the covenant. It is in the context of this liberation from slavery that God reveals his name: Yahweh. Volumes have been written about the meaning of these four Hebrew letters, yet the scholarly research of centuries remains inconclusive. Is it a sign of God's transcendence or of his sense of hu-mor (or of both) that his name remains mysterious in its being revealed? So much seems certain that the name Yahweh is existentially a boundlessly affirming word and intellectually just as boundlessly com-prehensive (that is, not to be grasped). He is there, absolutely reliable and absolutely incomprehensible. In their exodus the Jewish people have experienced their God, whom they gradually discover to be the God of all nations and of all creation. In their exodus they have learned that God hears the cry of the poor and takes their side. We meet here the begin- Spirituality of Liberation ning of a strand that runs through the whole of Scripture, stressing God's care for the poor and the needy, the orphan and the widow. Eventually this will lead to some sort of identification of God with the weak and the little, for example, Psalm 91:15 and Matthew 25:40, 45. In their exodus it was also brought home to them that Yahweh works through people: God. has no hands but ours; compare Exodus 3:8 with 3: 10. In their history with Yahweh they discover that he is "always greater." That is indeed a very pertinent characteristic of God. No mat-ter how great we think of him, he is always greater. No matter how much we have experienced of him, he remains always greater. That keeps us always on the move in our relation with God. The chief expression for human life in Hebrew means: to wander, to travel, to hike. The early Christians called themselves "the people of the way." Thus the exodus is a basic distinction of true religion, not an exodus once and for all, but ever so often repeated. And so freedom is not only the fruit of our exo-dus, but also its prerequisite, Liberty is both gift and demand. That is to say how much our faith is a religion of liberation. In apostolic reli-gious life unconditional pliability with respect to the will of God which can never be predicted and never be fixed takes shape in a continually adaptable apostolic availability. Paschal Mystery So far the name of Jesus has not been mentioned. It is in him that God became incarnate; it is in him that liberation receives hands and feet, a body and a voice and a face. His name, in Hebrew Yehoshua, means "Yahweh saves." Jesus embodies the saving God. He embodies this sav-ing God in a concrete, historically, sociologically, and politically well-defined situation. The incarnation of the eternal Son of God implies the taking-up of a human life with all the specific conditions of a particular society in a particular time. Perhaps the most striking feature of Jesus' dealing with the people of his time and country is how free he is as a person and how free he renders others (Lk 4:!8). This freedom is not simulated, but has deep roots. He is free, because at the same time he is one with the Father. What we found as the true source of freedom of the Jewish people, namely the covenant with Yahweh, we find infinitely more in Jesus of Nazareth. He was bound with Yahweh in his very person: "one in be-ing with the Father" (see Jn 10:30). Accordingly, he always did what pleased the Father and called the will of the Father the food on which he lived (Jn 4:34). That made him a free man and enabled him to free others. Review for Religious, November-December 1990 The miracles he works are presented by the Evangelists, especially by John, as "signs," which point out who Jesus is and what God stands for. Though accepted gratefully and often enthusiastically by many con-temporaries, the signs are rejected by the political and religious leaders. They decide to kill Jesus. The prospect of his suffering and death meets with a profound inner resistance, which in Gethsemane brought a terri-ble distress over him; yet he is free enough to say yes to his passion and crucifixion (Jn 10: 17). Jesus dies on the cross as a consequence of his mission. But God stood by his Son, in and beyond his death. God raised him to new life, a life over which death has no more power. We call this the paschal mystery, in analogy to the passover-event of the Old Testa-ment. The liberating event of the Old Testament was the exodus from Egypt; in the New Testament it is the death and the resurrection of Je-sus. The paschal liturgy from its earliest origins considered the crossing of the Sea of Reeds as a prefiguration of Jesus' passing through death to the risen life, so much so that among the many Old Testament read-ings of our Easter Vigil Exodus 15 is the only one which is obligatory. Here we touch the heart of the saving and liberating mission of Je-sus. In the various forms of our creeds we confess about Jesus: his in-carnation, and then omitting every other event of his life, his passion, death, and resurrection. No miracle, no sermon, no teaching, no contact with any person, no feature of his personality, not one event of his hid-den or public life is mentioned. In every creed one jumps from the birth of Jesus straight to the paschal mystery, which constitutes the core of our faith in Jesus. The paschal mystery is like a tunnel, that obviously has two ends which are connected and thus make the one tunnel. So death and resur-rection are two sides of one mystery. It is of the essence of the gift of faith that one can see the one side of the mystery in unity with the other: the passion in the light of the resurrection--the risen Lord with the wounds of his crucifixion. It is precisely the unity of these two events, crucifixion and resurrection, that makes us free. Jesus is savior and lib-erator because he is at the same time the suffering servant of Yahweh and the glorified Lord. The tunnel leads into the realm of freedom, like the passage through the Sea of Reeds led the Jewish people into the prom-ised land. The Gospels are written from this certainty. They narrate the events of Jesus' life, but in the light of the resurrection. It is this per-spective that we call inspiration (see Jn 8:28; 12:32). It reveals to us not only the redemptive and liberating thrust of Jesus' life, but it also takes us up into that same dynamic. It is the mystery of the grain of wheat Spir!tuality of Liberation / which yields fruit only by dying in the ground (Jn 12:24). It is the call of Jesus, not to hold on to one's life, but to lose it for the sake of the kingdom (Mk 8:35). Fulfillment These words are not meant to glorify human misery nor are they to be used as a cheap consolation to those who suffer. Rather we ourselves in the first place are to take them to heart, if we want to follow Jesus and to be apostolically fruitful. Every human person strives for fulfill-ment. This is perfectly in line with God's purpose, for example, John 15:8. But there is a way of striving after self-fulfillment and self-unfolding which is not in line with God's intention. As soon as one for-gets or denies that true Christian fulfillment goes through renouncing one-self and taking up one's cross (Mk 8:34) and dying like a grain of wheat, one is moving on the wrong track. Then my own physical well-being, my settling into a comfortable lifestyle, my need to be appreciated by those with whom I live and deal, bonds of friendship, my desire to make the most of my talents, success in my work, and so forth begin to play too great a role and stifle my religious and apostolic life. Since this topic is not only very vital indeed, but also very delicate, let me stress that the values mentioned are positive and good. However, as Christians we believe that we truly obtain these values when we do not hold on to them, but are willing to lose them for the sake of Jesus and the kingdom. This brings about the attitude of freedom, in the evangelical sense of the word. An essential aspect of Jesus' freedom was his readiness to accept suf-fering and to lay down his life (Jn 10:17), even though he agonized when the actual passion began. Similarly, a disciple of Jesus cannot follow his or her master without this freedom to give up precious personal human values (Lk 14:33). The Bible gives us many examples of negative experiences which eventually turn out to be quite positive. It is the lesson which Jesus in a remedial class brought home to the disciples of Emmaus (Lk 24:26). It is the lesson which Moses was taught in Exodus 33:18-23. It is the les-son that the evil is far worse than we admit, but that the good is also much greater than we dare to hope and even can bear. It is the lesson which all of us have learned in life: what at the actual moment was felt like a great loss, often revealed itself in hindsight as a real grace. The biblical message, confirmed by our own life experience, may help us to become more free in regard to our own life and more free in our apos-tolic service. 839 / Review for Religious, November-December 1990 It is, of course, a platitude to say that only those who are themselves liberated can help to liberate others. But this platitude is also a little sim-plistic. It seems more nuanced to say that as the Father wants us to be creative with him, likewise the Son wants us to be redemptive with him and wants to continue his work of liberation in and through us (Gaudium et spes 34 and 67). In this way we point out more clearly that our own liberation is a lifelong process and that it is only God who can work true freedom in ourselves and in others. We have to complete th'is statement by saying that God can work this true freedom only through us. So it is our mission to help the people experience the liberating God. In his encyclical Evangelii Nuntiandi (1975), Pope Paul VI stressed that evangel-ization proclaims and tries to realize liberation. This evangelization and this liberation aim at the whole person, .as the same Pope wrote already in an earlier encyclical Populorum Progressio (1967). Respect I suppose this renders respect a key concept in our service of libera-tion: a great respect and regard for the dignity of each human being, that is to say, of ourselves and of others. Respect is the heart of love, and in many ways the word respect is more meaningful than the word love (which, alas, is sometimes used so vaguely and glibly). Respect means to acknowledge the worth of others as other, that is, to relate to them not as we want them to be, not as we think they should be, not as they fit into our plans, but as they are. It also means to discover in these real people their defects, and to accept them. There is a wise and dense say-ing of C.G. Jung: "One can only change what one, has accepted." What we reject or condemn or repress goes beyond our reach; we cannot do anything with it nor for it anymore. I am convinced that the lack of respect does a tremendous harm in our communities, in our apostolate, in our Church, and in our world. If we could come to a basic attitude of respect for each human being, the world would become a so much better place to live in and the Gospel-message would become so much more real and convincing. This respect should not be an aloof, detached, disembodied attitude. If it is, it contradicts itself. Clodovis Boff expresses the opinion that Euro-pean culture tends to screen itself from the "two-edged sword of the Word" (Heb 4:12) with a highly developed, but spiritualistic, exegeti-cal, and sociological sophistication. "Europeans only?" one might ask. As our respect for each other has to be integral, so has the liberation we work for. We cannot restrict it either to the spiritual or the political realm. Spirituality of Liberation / 833 The Poor The word integral can also be understood as including all men and women, though the word universal might be more appropriate in this case. With that meaning in mind, integral or universal liberation requires a special concern for the poor and the weak. This is certainly in line with a trend that runs through the whole of Scripture. God shows a preferen-tial love for the poor, which leads to a certain identification with the poor-est, as mentioned above. The cry of the poor is heard by God, yes, even the curse of the poor (Si 4:5; Ex 22:22). As for the New Testament, the cry of Jesus on the cross is sometimes said to continue in the cry of the poor. That cry comes from the seventy percent who are underprivileged and undernourished--the majority of whom can hardly survive, let alone live in dignity. The Bible demands our solidarity with them. They are the present-day locus where we meet Christ. It is in them that Jesus is to be found. We may need a conversion of heart and a radical change of our lifestyle in order to live up to this demand of the time. There is a use of the word freedom which is meant to deny just that. Nuclear weapons are claimed to protect freedom, which, in fact, means only "our" freedom, and that, in turn, stands really for our power and affluence. These self-interests, however, are maintained at the expense of other people's lives, and their "protection," therefore, runs counter to the actual demands of the Gospel. Integral or universal liberation requires that the poor are not the only ones liberated, and that liberation is not understood only economically. There may be certain biases sometimes, which do harm to the integrity or wholeness of liberation. It shows the greatness of a theologian like Leonardo Boff, that for example, in his volume Jesus Christ the Libera-tor he writes some pertinent pages precisely to denounce such a bias. Structural Sin Recently another aspect of integral liberation has come to the fore, namely, liberation from "social sin" or "structural evil." Of course, Christians have always known of sins in the social sphere, and also of the social aspect of every sin. It is new, however, to call social struc-tures themselves sinful. It has taken some controversy to clarify that the word "sin" in this expression is used in analogy with the personal sin we had known hitherto. Both good and bad actions can embody and per-petuate themselves in structures, which are accordingly good or bad, and, once established, are the source of further good or evil. So certain structures are called sinful, while they originate from and in turn lead to personal sin. They definitely restrict our freedom and often they ten- Review for Religious, November-December 1990 der us unfree to a considerable extent. The individual is in those cases often both cause and victim. Those who create these structures or main-tain them or profit from them or even in complicity tolerate them are guilty. This social sin is part of the mystery of iniquity that cries for libera-tion towards the Lord of history and brings out the human race's need of redemption. It is by no means easy to admit this sin for oneself, to free oneself from its entanglement, and to work for liberation of others on this level--far more difficult usually than in the sphere of personal sin. One can be certain that attempts towards changing these structures will bring 'with them many personal inconveniences, hardships, threats, loss of friends and relations, in certain countries imprisonment, torture, and even death, as many have found out, especially in the last decades. When I interpreted freedom as a readiness to accept suffering, I had these kinds of situations in mind. A person who is not free to suffer cannot think of working for liberation from structural sin. Vulnerability is a genu-ine assurance that we are in touch with reality, truth, and love, not self-interest. Here, more than anywhere else, it is important to realize that God is the chief agent in overcoming evil, and that we are cooperators with him, instruments in his hand, branches of the vine. Without this con-viction coming from faith, the challenge would overwhelm us. A Church which is too much concerned about itself, its own image, and its own problems cannot tackle this task, just as an individual who is too egocentric cannot engage in it. The Church has to proclaim the Lord Jesus, above all in his paschal mystery of death and resurrection, and not proclaim itself. Liberation in its many aspects requires the over-coming of all self-centeredness, both in the individual and in the Church. The more the Church is focused on the person of Jesus and not on itself, the more the Church will be able to discover what men and women of other religions and other visions are doing for liberation, and to cooper-ate with them. It seems to be a special task of the religious to help the Church to focus on our Lord and Savior and thereby to be open to all people of good will who pledge themselves to liberation. Obviously, we can only help the Church in this by doing it ourselves and by being loyal to our Church. Dangers Much praise has been sung to the spirituality of liberation in this ar-ticle, and rightly so. Some dangers must be mentioned also. Not to cool down our commitment, but to safeguard it. I do not want to elaborate on these dangers, yet it seems unfair to me to pass them by completely. SpiritualiO, of Liberation / ~135 So let me just give the headings as I found them in an article ("Como Fazer Teologia da Libertac~o," published by: Vozes, Petr6polis, Bra-zil 1986) written jointly by Clodovis and Leonardo Boff: - a neglect of the mystical roots - a rampage of the political aspects - a stifling of the faith through too much discussion - a tendency towards exclusiveness and absolutism - an exaggerated emphasis on the discontinuity with the tradition and an underestimating of the continuity - a negligence of a serious dialogue and discussion with other spirituali-ties -a lack of care to make the theology of liberation understandable and pal-atable to the authority in the Church, which delays the conversion of the Church to the poor. After having rushed through these dangers, let me close with a quota-tion from the encyclical of Pope John Paul Redemptoris Mater and with a word of hope. Mary "Drawing from Mary's heart, from the depth of her faith expressed in the words of the Magnificat, the Church renews ever more effectively in herself the awareness that the truth about God who saves, the truth about God who is the source of every girl, cannot be separated from the manifestation of his love of preference for the poor and the humble, that love, which, celebrated in the Magnificat, is later expressed in the words and works of Jesus. The Church is thus aware--and at the present time this awareness is particularly vivid--not only that these two elements of the message contained in the Magnificat cannot be separated, but also that there is a duty to safeguard carefully the importance of 'the poor' and of 'the option in favor of the poor' in the word of the living God. These are matters and questions intimately connected with the Christian meaning of freedom and liberation. 'Mary is totally dependent upon God and completely directed towards him, and, at the side of her Son, she is the most perfect image of freedom and of the liberation of humanity and of the universe. It is to her as Mother and Model that the Church must look in order to understand in its completeness the meaning of her own mission' " (Nr.37). Hope It is common among the theologians.of liberation to stress the hope Review for Religious, November-December 1990 that is manifest in their movement. To work and to struggle for libera-tion for any length of time is impossible without authentic hope. This hope is not identical with optimism. Optimism emphasizes the positive aspects and draws attention away from the negative, tends to underesti- ¯ mate the latter, and even to repress them. It may be a pleasant attitude, but it is often not quite realistic. Hope, on the contrary, faces the difficulties and the pain, yet does not lose heart. Hope is more than an impulse. Hope makes us faithful and persevering. Hope discloses a great strength, which is beyond us. Hope is able to sail its own course with every wind, even with head wind. Charles P6guy portrays hope as a little girl between her two big sisters who hold her by the hand. It looks as if the two big ones lead the little one, but the opposite is true. It is hope that keeps faith and love alive, young, and vital. The basic communities and the other groups that embody the libera-tion movement are centers of hope. This hope is not an acquired, but an infused virtue--that means beyond us and yet in us as a divine gift, as a fruit of the paschal mystery. "Through him (Christ) you have confi-dence in God, who raised him from the dead and gave him glory, so that your faith is hope in God" (1 P 1:21). Compline Salvation danced In the dark Of Mary's womb, Was paid with blood On a black hill, Then rose for all From death's dead tomb. So I must trust Your grace unseen Till from life's grave I, too, am freed. Kathleen T. Choi 1706Waianuenue Avenue Hilo, Hawaii 96720 Liberation and the Liturgical Year ¯ Susan Anderson Kerr, Ph.D. Susan Anderson Kerr is an Oblate of St. Louis Priory in Petersham, Massachusetts. Her address is 4209 Avenue F; Austin, Texas 78751. When we observe the culture around us and see the emptin~s_.s of living apari ~?o~m ]he liturgical year, we see that the liturgical ~ar is hot some pious preoccupation of people with a taste for the archaic. It is a ques-tion of survival, of urgent importance for an age hungry for liberation, and respectful of those who survive. It is a question of freedom, of vast relevance for our culture which reveres freedom, struggles with addic-tions, and seeks personal liberation from materialism, sexism, racism, and a host of enslaving isms. In an age of decline and disintegration such as ours, many people turn to the inner life to exert the yearning for goodness and truth and beauty which in another era would have had a greater possibility for ex-ternal expression in politics or art or education. The pain of the loss of knowing how to do things--how to accomplish civic reforms, how to com-bat drugs and violence, how to overcome the hedonism and cynicism of our time---can send people on a spiritual quest. So we have an outpour-ing of books on the inner life--Jungian psychology, individual prayer techniques, popularizations of the great works of Catholic spirituality. But if we attend only to our individual spiritual growth while neglect-ing liturgical spirituality, we try to walk to the heavenly Jerusalem on one leg. The Lord does not intend for us to so hobble. Part of the reason we neglect the liturgy is that it effects our healing so circuitously, circling like the rings around the trunk of the tree. We want results now; we are on fire with intentions. Romano Guardini once observed that liturgy is much more like a forest where one wanders than a gymnasium where with fixed purpose one exercises certain muscles. 837 Review for Religious, November-December 1990 Another reason we slight the liturgy is that those great masters of the spiri-tual life--St. Teresa of Avila, St. John of the Cross, St. Ignatius of Loyola--who are such help to us wrote at a time of liturgical decadence when desiccated liturgies were an obstacle to spiritual growth. When we try to walk on both legs, liturgical as well as individual prayer, other saints will help us, saints who wrote when liturgy and spiri-tuality were not at cross purposes, saints in the monastic tradition, like St. Benedict and St. Gertrude. The Vatican documents of the renewal of the liturgy are also useful in correcting our understanding of the value of liturgy. Personal prayer is a logical place to begin as one searches for encoun-ter with God, but to linger there is to remain a spiritual adolescent. To relate the liturgical year to the individual's private life of prayer is to ad-dress a practical question: why pay attention to the liturgical year? If I am learning centering prayer, or the Jesus prayer, or my Enneagram num-ber, or how to relate to my anima or animus, why do I need the liturgi-cal year? Is this not a formal structure which has nothing at all to do with the rich spontaneity and diversity of my inner life? "Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel; he has come to his people and set them free," the Church sings each morning. And so God has. The liturgical year invites us into liberation in three areas: freedom from chronos and cyclical time, freedom from nature, and freedom from the tyranny of our unconscious. First, the liturgical year helps shape our understanding of the mean-ing of time. It removes us from the pagan sense of time as repetition, nature's cycle endlessly repeating itself, and from the atheist's concep-tion of time as pure chronos. It introduces a.God-ward momentum and shaping of time, an upwardly moving spiral. Empty repetition and end-less succession are replaced by repetition at higher levels on the spiral, by kairos punctuating chronos, or chronos building to and being shaped by kairos. Like a lovely shell, the liturgical year has been extruded cen-tury after long century as the Church needed more space in which to dwell. The liturgical year gives us a common memory. This happens on sev-eral levels: on the cosmic level, as Pierre Teiihard de Chardin describes, the Church evolves towards the omega point; on the historic level as the Church organizes time before and after our Lord's death; on the personal level as our individual existence takes its place in this great spiral flow-ing towards God. Intimately linked with our common memory of the liturgical year is Liberation and the Liturgical Year the common authority which establishes it. The Church has to maintain the central focus on the life of Christ, balancing between a proliferation of feast days which would result in a loss of shape to the Church year, and the impulse to celebration which led one desert father to exult "Life is an eternal festival." Second, the liturgical year frees us from romantic identification with nature. But what does the liturgical year express about our relationship to nature? Partly organized around the sun, partly around the moon, the liturgical year demonstrates as Odo Casel remarks, the maxim "Grace builds on nature." The week evolved from divisions of the lunar cycle, for the Hebrew festal calendar, like the first calendar cycles of most primi-tive religions, was lunar. The Jewish lunar months were divided by sab-batical weeks; the Mosaic sabbath is based on 7 as a perfect number, ex-pressing completion and fullness. The Easter celebration evolved from the Jewish liturgical cycle which had gradually replaced nature rituals with festivals commemorating Israel's history of salvation. Unlike the polytheistic peoples around them who made the powers of nature divine, the Jewish people came to see nature as a tool and im-age of the spiritual. The feast of Pesach had nomadic roots, for it is cele-brated at the first full moon after the vernal equinox when a young male lamb is sacrificed, roasted, and eaten. But its central focus is the reen-actment of the deliverance of Israelfrom the hands of Egypt. When Je-sus transformed this feast by identifying himself with the sacrificial lamb, he lifted it from its local origin and universalized it into the feast of the salvation of all human beings of every time. But Easter does not thereby shed its lunar and historical associations. Thus the cyclic observance of the vernal equinox is lifted first into the hope of renewal in human history recalled in the Passover festival, and then universalized in the.final eschatological hope of Easter. We see a similarl appropriation of ~natureir~ the use of the sun in the liturgical year. Jesus, as the light of the world, was identified with the sun. His birth is celebrated at the winter solstice, transforming and uni-versalizing the pagan festival of the sol invictus. His conception is thus celebrated nine months earlier near the vernal equinox, March 25. Since according to Luke 1:26, John the Baptist was conceived six months be-' fore Jesus, his conception is observed at the autumnal equinox, and his birth, by extension, at the summer solstice June 24. Thus the two equi-noxes and the two solstices are brought into the Christian year and trans-formed from cyclic rituals to feasts of the birth of life and light into this world's darkness. ~140 / Review for Religious, November-December 1990 John the Baptist's feasts are also associated with the sun's activity; in the fourth century they were seen as cosmic confirmation of John's own words "He must increase; but I must decrease" (Jn 3:30). The prayer of the Divine Office is also organized around the sun; the two most important hours occur when the sun rises and when it sets. Here the beginning and ending of the day are bound up with the life of the Lord: the sun's rising is an image of his rising from the dead; vespers, when the sun sets, the beginning of a new day, is eucharistic in charac-ter, full of thanksgiving for the light that has been. The Church uses nature as the basis for sacred time, but does not re-main encased within natural rhythms. The liturgical year steers the Chris-tian away from romantic identification with nature, from new age senti-mentality about its saving power, as well as from Gnostic fear of the ca-pacity of creation to convey divine purposes. Like an enormous tree nour-ished with roots deep in our personal and collective unconscious, it also teaches respect for natural processes, for slow growth, for rhythms be-yond human control. Finally, the liturgical year unfetters our freedom from the tyranny of our unconscious. When Moses stood before the burning bush aiad saw that this was holy ground, he entered a new place to live. That place is prayer; it is man's response to God's holiness and comes into existence only in communion with God. We can compare this to the common ground that exists between two friends; when I get to know someone, drawn by mutual interests or complementary personalities, a territory of shared experience grows between us. As the holy ground between man and the divine extends in time, so is born the inner liturgical year. "Moses, Moses, take off your shoes, for the place on which you stand is holy ground" (Ex 3:5). Liturgy must be interior as well as exterior for it to be whole. The structures of worship which ancient Israel built in response to Moses' ex-perience of the transcendence of God--first the altar of sacrifice, later a mobile tabernacle, and the Sabbath--were images of inner freedom, of the oblation of self to Yahweh, to Being. The early Church absorbed the Jewish sabbath into a festival of the Lord's day, Sunday, a day to celebrate the Resurrection of Christ, the fulfillment of the Incarnation which was implicit in the assent to crea-tion celebrated on the sabbath. The Documents of Vatican II remind us "The Lord's Day is the original feast day, and it should be proposed to the faithful and taught to them so that it may become in fact a day of joy and of freedom from work" (Vol. I p. 29). Liberation and the Liturgical Year In Sunday is the seed of all later festivals. We encounter Sunday first in the gospels, for this is the day of the Resurrection, the day the Lord appeared to Mary Magdalene. Also in Scripture we find the first repeti-tion of Sunday, for it was one week later after his Resurrection that the Lord appeared to Thomas and the company assembled in the upper room and breathed his peace on them. Thus, in the book of Acts, the early Church observes Sunday as a day to celebrate the Resurrection; not a day of rest, not a continuation of the Jewish sabbath, but a new day, an eighth day, of completion, and a first day of rejoicing in creation. To celebrate Sunday witnesses to our busy and harried society of the freedom and goodness of the Christian vision of life. A reform of Sun-day can only come from within the individual life; the era of puritanical prohibitions has done its job of proposing to us what a day of rest would look like, and now it is up to us to practice an asceticism of time so that shopping, banking, errands, and office work can be laid aside for one day. A day to affirm the goodness of creation means a day for play, for friends, for music, for nature. This is a gift from God. Accepting it wit-nesses to the eternal festival latent behind the celebration of this special day. The Christian who observes Sunday as a day of joy and freedom from work learns the interconnectedness of time, for such a Sunday be-gins the night before. As the Jews began to observe a holy day with the vigil of the preceding night, so the Christian liturgical year interweaves all time around this structure of the week, each festival held in place by the surrounding times. Liturgical memory looks backwards and forwards as it draws strength for the present. Sunday looks back to divine assent to creation, and forward to the heavenly rest we anticipate. Celebrating Sunday nourishes our freedom to set aside work and worry and simply be. Liturgical memory forms the whole memory. People who can set aside their personal agenda and enter into the communal celebration, or who make the communal agenda their personal concern, are the ones who then can place their individual psychological problems in a wide con-text. They are not locked into the present, because they are formed to see it held in a web between past and future, nor are they confined to their own personal viewpoint however fully it might be absorbing them. In other words, the liturgy is a school of detachment, a word which in English sounds cold and lonely. I am told the German equivalent, abgeschiedenheit, would be translated as "serene freedom of the spirit filled with utter trust in God." That is the result of a memory formed 849 / Review for Religious, November-December 1990 by the liturgy. But it is accomplished not directly and didactically, but symbolically and by example. Thus the liturgy teaches us that every feast must be preceded by a period of preparation: no Sunday without week-days, no Christmas without Advent, no Easter without Lent, and plenty of ordinary time to allow the mysteries of Christ to be absorbed and di-gested. Here is delayed gratification made visible. But this is more than just training in patience for high points. St. Cath-erine of Siena once said "All the way to heaven is heaven." That is what the liturgy says tool Advent and Lent, ordinary time, all the small roots of morning and evening prayer absorb water for the tree's growth which is celebrated at Christmas, Easter, and Pentecost. In the liturgical year, the Church has given us not only a survival strat-egy, but a place to grow as well. Aidan Kavanaugh wrote "Liberators accomplish only half their task then they liberate. The other half of their labor is to provide a normal place, a free place, on which the liberated may land." That normal, free place, that place out of the reach of the forces of the enemy, of the trendy, the selfish, the trivial, is the liturgi-cal year. Morning Praise At my window the willow filigrees the gold of dawn and hangs it on my wall; trembling fronds lose themselves in the sudden glow that,starset and sunrise trace upon the morning. I, too, in this hour am lost in grace-gold shower that spills upon the desert of my heart. Sister Elizabeth deSales Dee, S.S.J. St. Joseph Convent 7300 Torresdale Avenue Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19136 The Vowed Life as a Peace Story to Be Told Patricia McCarthy, C.N.D. Sister Patricia McCarthy, a member of the Congregation of Notre Dame, has worked with the poor in the field of education, particularly with homeless and abused chil-dren, where the ministry of nonviolence is a daily challenge. Her address is Congre-gation of Notre Dame; 41 Cole Street; East Providence, Rhode Island 02914. Among the international travel ads which I faithfully read, I have noticed recently a new type of tour being offered. It is possible to visit northern Europe on a special story-telling trip. Imagine going from thatched roof cottages to desolate moors and dangerous harbors, and all the time lis-tening. The accents would change with the landscapes, and both would change the stories. Just listen and hear the true nature of the countries and its people come out in ways more real than through the products at the duty-free shops in the airports. Then I began to wonder. Will we be able to t~il stories that will en-thrall and inspire? Do we live passionately enough to be sources of hope and interest for future generations? Will others tell and retell with drama and humor the stories of our lives? Thomas Hardy said: "A story must be exceptional enough to justify its telling. We storytellers are all ancient mariners, and none of us is justified in stopping wedding guests unless he has something more unusual to relate than the ordinary experiences of every man and woman." I continue to wonder. What stories in our generation will justify their retelling? Could it be that when the story of peace is told, religious men and women will be talked about? When storytellers explain poverty, celi-bacy, and obedience, will they tell the tales of people so in love with God and with their'brothers and sisters that they wrapped this love in freely 843 Review for Religious, November-December 1990 chosen vows? When the listeners ask what gave these religious such passion and why were they so free to love, will the storyteller have to risk entering into mystery? Will the story become one with the story and mystery of Jesus? There is no reasonable explanation for a God who loved so passion-ately that he came and lived among us. He taught us and healed us and blessed us. Finally, he gave himself on the cross for our redemption. Will the story of religious life make sense only within this context of aban-donment? Is not religious life the lived expression of Jesus' surrender to God for love of us? Gandhi said that Jesus Christ's offering of himself on the cross for the redemption of the world was the only perfect act of nonviolence the world has ever seen. Since the very nature of religious life is to be inti-mately united with Jesus, the vows can be considered in light of his su-preme act of peacemaking. The vows can be seen as living realities that transform people into peacemakers for our fragile world. We search high and low for ways of being peace in the midst of hostility and violence. Perhaps if we go deeply into the vows we will see not only the founda-tion of religious life but the foundation of peacemaking as well. Freedom In Poverty We begin in poverty. Scripture has always put God in the midst of the poor. In the Old Testament, Yahweh compassionately watched over the anawim. To the childless, children were given; to the homeless, a chosen land; to the hungry, manna in the desert; to the lost, visions and dreams to follow. When the fullness of time came, a wretched stable was the birthplace of the Son of God. His first experience of life was as a refugee in a foreign land. And his first teaching began, "Blessed are the poor in spirit." We choose poverty because Jesus did. Poverty and want are evils when people are denied the necessary elements of survival. It makes no sense to embrace a vow of poverty. The vows do not make sense, they make love. We risk letting go of material security as a source of com-fort and happiness so that Christ can be our only fulfillment. What does this have to do with peace? Everything. If Christ is our wealth, we have nothing on this earth to defend, including our own lives. Lack of desire to defend one's possessions or life would make war improbable and unnecessary. Wars are usually started for economic rea-sons. Either an aggressor is greedy for the acquisition of land or eco-nomic control, or an oppressed people revolt against the denial of their The Vowed Life as a Peace Story to Be Told / 845 right to a decent standard of life. The slogans of freedom cover the at-tempts ~to maintain or increase power. During Texas' war for indepen-dence, a young soldier wrote home to his family: "If we win, we'll all be rich. If we lose, we will have died for freedom." Greed-induced vio-lence leaves millions of shattered and broken lives in its wake. Bring into this picture an army of people vowing poverty. It would remind one of the pages from a pre-primer book where the child has to pick out what is wrong with the picture. What does not fit in with every-thing else? A vow of poverty is countercultural when greed is the ear-mark of the culture. Why would someone with nothing to defend go to war for the purpose of defense? Of course, war is merely the outward extreme expression of the daily violence abiding in the human heart. It is, therefore, from the heart that the message of peace must come, not from a treaty or constitution. It is also within the heart that the vow of poverty must be embraced and shaped. If we can say that as individuals we own nothing, then whatever we use or manage is done in the spirit of stewardship. And then if some-one asks for our coat, we do not fight; we give the scarf and hat as well. If people are hungry and we have food, we share what we have with them. A vow of poverty should lead us to the reality that all we possess is gift. Because we know personally the Giver of all gifts, our poverty seeks expression through trust in God and willingness to share with the children of God. Fidelity to the vow is not marked by having nothing, but by desiring nothing and by a willingness to share freely whatever we have. Conscious today that too many of our brothers and sisters are starv-ing, we should be willing to live a poverty more radical than anything that has been seen for decades. The world needs our example and our leadership in order to break the cycle of a few using for themselves alone the natural resources intended for all. Strong statements about sharing the fruits of the earth are necessary in a world so consumed by the ac-quisition of wealth. We distort and falsify Christ's plea to us not to worry about what we are to eat or wear when we stockpile the necessities of life. We can do that and have what we think we need day after day, but we miss out on even knowing how beautifully we would have been dressed and cared for, as the lilies of the field and the birds of the air. It is a small step from stockpiling consumer goods to stockpiling arms. Emptying our hands does not automatically produce a disarmed Review for Religious, November-December 1990 heart, but clutching hands certainly will prevent us from having one. We need the practice of trusting God for our daily bread so that when the time comes to trust in God for our very lives, the surrender and faith will be there. Our times are crying for people with disarmed and trusting hearts. Our times are crying for those of us who have vowed poverty to embrace it radically. Our times are crying for us to live out daily the reality that our only need is God. This is what a life of poverty calls us to. This is the truth of a vow of poverty. Gandhi used to live "experi-ments in truth." It was his way of learning. By this he meant an unin-terrupted progression from insight to action to insight, and so forth. He would get an idea, try it out in practice, refine his first idea because of the action, then go to another action, and so on. Poverty is a lifetime ex-periment in truth. We feel inspired to trust God a little and release our hold on something. This leads to more trust and the release of something else, and so on. It's lifetime because we will never run out of things to let go of! The wonder of our God is that we never miss the small insignificant tokens we have parted with. We are showered with the very life of God and have no needs outside of this. We learn to yearn for God alone, not merely the gifts of God. Even when God seems absent from us, we have no desire to seek consolation from any other source. Perhaps, then, we receive our dearest treasure, a poor heart, totally dependent upon God for everything. Only then, when we have nothing left to defend, will we have been formed into peacemakers after the model of Jesus. In our communion with each other and with those who came before us, we see that the peacemakers who stand out in any century were peo-ple of great poverty. Francis, the poor man of Assisi; Mahatma Gandhi, the Hindu ascetic; Thomas Merton, the trappist; Dorothy Day, the bow-ery dweller. They are not remembered because they were deprived, they are remembered because they had so much to give. Passion ,in Celibacy If a generous heart is the sign of vowed poverty, then a passionate heart is the sign of vowed celibacy. The vow of celibacy is at the core of the consecrated life, just as surrender to the passionate love of Christ is at the core of peacemaking. We cannot expect people to give up their arms of defense against other people and to be vulnerable to human ha-tred, unless we have first taught them to let go of their defenses against God and to be vulnerable to infinite love. The vulnerability of passion-ate love embodies an act of complete trust in God, of counting on God The Vowed Life as a Peace Story to Be Told to never abandon us or leave us unprotected. Celibacy calls us to this surrender of our very bodies to the love of God. By this vow, we witness in flesh to the power of God to fulfill us and protect us. This same passionate surrender is required of all peace-makers. They need not be celibate, but they do need to enflesh the pri-macy of the power and love of God. It is this primacy of God which is the clear witness of the vow of celibacy. It is the same primacy of the love and power of God to which Christ surrendered. Peace is not within our grasp without the act of redemption of Christ on Calvary. No matter how selfless or sacrificing we might be, the ability to take on and endure violence in order to heal it is the work of God. We share in this work, we are the hands and feet of Christ to-day, but he is the source and fountain of all life, of all power, and of all power to endure violence without retaliation. The clearest and most visible example of this power of God taking flesh is Mary, the virgin Mother of God. Mary trusted so completely in the power of God that she surrendered in faith to bear the Son of God in her womb. Within her body Mary carried Jesus Christ who was con-ceived by the Holy Spirit. "The Holy Spirit will come upon you and the power of the Most High will overshadow you" (Lk i:35). "The fact that she conceived without human means is the sign that she conceived by the power of God. And in this she is a sign to us of our own radical de-pendence on God and on our union with him in grace in order to bear fruit or to do anything that is divinely life-giving on earth "(David Knight, Mary in an Adult Church Memphis: His Way Communications, 1988, pp. 22,23). We see in Mary the cost and the fruit of faith-filled trust in God. We see in Mary a woman confident of God"s continual care and boundless love. We see in Mary a woman whose heart was turned into a furnace of love by the Holy Spirit. We can expect the same care and mercy from God, we can expect to receive the same fire of love from the Holy Spirit. Belief in this fact alone should put us in the front lines of peacemaking. If God is the power of our lives, we do not put our trust in other earthly powers. We have vowed celibacy, consecrated our bodies to virginity. This is a visible em-bodiment of receptivity and of openness to God's working with us and through us. It is a physical expression of total surrender to the loved one; it is the abandonment of all defenses and reserves in the presence of the beloved. It is a matter of the heart. Gandhi taught that nonviolence, also, was a matter of the heart, not 848 / Review for Religious, November-December 1990 to be arrived at by an appeal to the brain: that it was a matter of passion not of policy. Celibacy is not an intellectual thing but a passionate physi-cal stance. A life vowed to celibacy, within which we surrender in love the essence of our being, forms a heart capable of understanding and em-bracing nonviolence. A heart can be formed in many ways. Some of the ascetical prac-tices that used to accompany a study of the vows can be seen now as fash-ioning hearts for peacemaking. Fasting--one of the oldest practices in religious tradition---can be undertaken as a concrete expression of the pri-macy of God in our life. It is far more an act of worship than an act of discipline, To live the reality that God is the power of our lives, at times we freely abandon or fast from food or other material things. When the needs of our bodies call out, we turn ourselves over to God in whose pres-ence we abide. It is not the abstaining from food which is holy, but the turning of our attention and desires to God. Prayer becomes the love language of the celibate. When we love someone, there is no end to the variety of ways in which we say it. All the different prayer styles and prayer methods are merely different ways of giving and receiving love. Celibacy is about our bodies, and when we use these bodies to kneel in prayer we give expression to the reality of the vow. Just the act of kneeling is in itself a commitment of our body, a sign of intimate surrender to God. Such signs are important to us and to God. We are human and we yearn to give human expression to our desires; and God is pleased to see us using the gift of our bodies in worship. As important as these signs of surrender are, we go beyond them, we move from sign to reality when we participate in the Eucharistic celebration of Calvary. Union with Christ in the Mass is the commitment of our body to receive his Body. We share in Christ's moment of intimate surrender to his God. We offer ourselves with Christ to be transformed more and more into his Body. In this union we find the fulfillment of our celibacy. Out of this union, we are sent in service to our brothers and sisters. And this can be the passionate physical expression of love that physical penances were to some of the saints. Physical forms of penance are not outdated; they have j.ust changed style to adjust to the times. One (~f the saints stood in ice water up to his neck one winter's night, doing pen-ance for a friend who was considering sinful choices. Standing in the cold at the water's edge for hours in protest at a nuclear submarine base can be our modern day version of the same experience. Patiently endur-ing the irascible tempers and dispositions in a shelter for the homeless The Vowed Life as a Peace Story to Be Told or a soupline can be the discipline of the senses in this age. The ideal of self-sacrificing love can be applied to living within the noise and dan-ger of inner cities in order to be with today's anawim. Especially for those overcommitted and overworked religious who give beyond their limits, the ascetism most expressive of a loving re-sponse to God might be to fast from work one day a week. Work is any-thing that we think has to be done. Let it all go for a day. Keep holy the Lord's day. If we believe God is our source of power, let our bodies and minds and energies show it by giving the time to being, not doing. It is possible .this practice could be far more productive than ceaseless days of activity. Surely, a day of rest with God is a practical act of trust, one that might lead us to become even more practical and venture into the constant trust required for a vow of obedience. Stewardship of Self in Obedience Having emptied our hands through poverty and surrendered our hearts in celibacy, we receive from God through obedience the assurance that all is done in accord with the divine plan. Every peacemaker must be obedient, but religious have the value of a vow. This vow does not just mean doing what someone else tells you to do. Doing what some-one else tells you is simple; it may not be easy, but it is simple and un-complicated. That is not what the vow of obedience calls us to. Obedience calls us to listen to God's designs for us, to listen to God's desires for us. Obe-dience calls us to stewardship of the gift of God that is ourselves. If we value the goods and fruits of our fragile earth so much that we h01d them in stewardship, how much more should we value ourselves and hold our-selves in stewardship. We are a gift of God, to be treasured and used ac-cording to the plan of God. Obedience encourages us to take seriously this call to stewardship of self. The first step of the obedient peacemaker is to listen to this call. It will be unique to each person. No one else can listen to it for us. Per-haps the most common sin of disobedience today is not the failure to do what is asked by lawful authority, but the failure to do what, over and above this, is asked by God. Probably few of us consciously, explicitly deny God. But do we consistently hear God's requests and calls? When we are consumed by plans and activities of our own, are we willing to change and to let God move us in another direction? If we have vowed celibacy and said that God is the source of power in our lives, are we able to live that out by listening for .the delicate, unobtrusive voice of God day after day and abandoning all our ideas and hopes to the ideas Review for Religious, November-December 1990 and hopes of God? How do we hear God? We open ourselves to being vulnerable and receptive to all the known and unknown ways God speaks: our own in-stincts and desires, needs of others, realities of life over which we have no control, requests from our communities, and decisions by those who minister through authority. It would be easier if we were the only judge of what is the desire of God. We have been created for community with God's people, and in community we hear and discern the will of God. We pray in our rooms and in our churches and in our workplaces. We seek the face of God, alone and with others. Obedience is not a private vow, it is a communal one. In the base communities of Latin America, private prayer and com-munal reflection on the word of God precede any action for justice. Peo-ple do not act on their own instincts alone; plans for action are submit-ted to the reflection and discussion of the community. There is always a person or group to whom every individual is accountable. This is a cru-cial factor in these communities, a factor which is most difficult for groups in North America who have tried to model the base community style. The same principle of responsible accountability was applied by Gandhi in his struggle for freedom in India and by Martin Luther King, Jr. in his struggle for freedom from racism in America. In their actions for nonviolent resistance, both men taught their people to begin with prayer and fasting. Individuals were prepared step-by-step for the action that had been decided upon. Not everyone was permitted to participate if the leaders thought they were not ready. Obedience to the plan was crucial. Today when civil disobedience is done correctly, all those partici-pating should have another person or group to whom they are responsi-ble. If that person or group tells an individual to discontinue the action, that person is expected to obey. If we are serious about the work of jus-tice then we had better be serious about obedience. Civil disobedience for individuals with vows of obedience is a won-derful opportunity to exercise the vow. Civil disobedience must always be an expression of personal commitment, not just of association with a just cause. For a religious to accept the call to steffardship of self so seriously that there may be a time when the law of God takes precedence over the law of society, a process of discernment should be a prerequi-site to the action. Prayer, study, and discussion should operate on three levels: personal, local, and provincial. Discernment on all three levels The Vowed L

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

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

Issue 20.5 of the Review for Religious, 1961. ; HENRI HOLSTEIN, S,J. The Mystery of Religious Life Religious life1¯ interests contemporary man; this in-terest, in fact, constitutes one of the curious, paradoxes of our times. However surprising and unexpected this may seem to be, our contemporaries' interest in religious life is shown by the success of the novelized memoirs of ex-religious, especially when they are .transposed to the film. Books about religious are a financial success; this is true even in the case of expensive publications like the recent volume of Mo_nsieurs Serrou and Vals on the Poor Clares;2 this volume, illustrated by remarkable photographs that give the reader a realization of the life of the religious, is a continuation of a series on various comtemplative orders of men and women. Mademoiselle Cita-Malard, who lived with the permission of the Holy See0within the cloister of most of the important orders of women and who is able to make them known in an intelligent and respectful fashion, has published a brief, well-written volume to in-troduce French readers to "a million religious women."a And on. the stage in Paris, Monsieur Di~go Fabri presents the Jesuits4 to an audience which from all appearances:is deeply attentive and thoughtful; by means of a somewhat flamboyant plot which the playwright has imagined on the frontiers of that part of the world cut off by the iron cur-tain, the problem of the contemporary apostolate is placed'~ What is the source of this interest and curiosity which in general is sympathetic even if it is aroused by anecdotal or vestimentary details rather than by what is essential 1 This article was originally a conference given at the University of Louvain as the conclusion of a series of lectures on religious life. !t is reprinted with permission from Revue des communautds re-ligieuses, v. 33 (1961), pp. 65-~9. * Les Clarisses: les pauvres dames de sainte Glaire d'Assise. Paris: Horay, 19fi0. ~ Un million de religieuses. Paris: Fayard, 1960. ¯ A critical review of this drama was given by P. L. Barjon, S.J. in Etudes, February, 1961, pp. 251-57. ' "4. ,4. "4. Henri Holstein, s.J., teaches theology at the Institut Catholiqu, e in Paris. '~ ~' VOLUME 20, 1961 317 Henri Holstein, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 318 to religious life? I believe the reason is that religious poses a problem for modern man; in its own way religious life is a sign of contradiction which ~ angers, shocks, and at times arouses iriescapable questions. If one reflects and considers the matter, religious life by its an.d by its numbeis is a social fact to which modern man can not remaiff~ indifferent, desacralizedas he and living in a paganized atmosphere. This has been stated by Mademoiselle Cita-Malard when she writes religious women, the number of whom she estimates to a million: Is it not a paradox that out of two and half billion human beings and out of about five hundred million Catholics, million women have renounced forever--and in most cases even before personal experienc.e in the matter--the pleasures and the servitudes of the flesh and that they have stripped them-selves of everything, even their own will, either to follow publicly the strict and minute obligations which impose COmmon life on them or to free themselves for a more or !hidden apostolate in their milieu and prof~ssi0n, an apostolate which makes of their life an Oblation without reserve? What have pledged themselves to is directly opposed to the liberties claimed by Ouroindependent, self, centeoroed, sensual age? To this situation, so loudly underscored by:t_he indiscrete means of communication of our era, only we canbring answer by our life and our witness. Doubtless, this Witness will come from religious themselves, for, eveh if people do'not admit it to us, they nevertheless watch u~; si'nce dress and our way of life attract their attention; but witness will come especially from Catholics who Should able to explain to any man of good will what religious in the Catholic Church means. Accordingly; I hope present to y6u what, you already know in a kind of theo-logical synthesis and to give you in ~a simple way :the stitutive essentials of the religious life. Of the two partsof.this conference, the first will attempt [o show religious life as the fullness of baptism; the second will emphasize the .nature 6[ the witness given in and the Church by the religious who is a witness of heaven w~ll as a witness of the love of Jesus Christ for all men, brethren. Religious Life the Fullness~ of Baptism "Religious life," canon 1law tells us, "is a s~able c~o~mmunity way of ili[e in ~hich the faithful besides precepts common to all propose to observe as wello th evangelical counsels, through the vows of obedience, chastity, and poverty" (c. 487). ~ Un million de religieuses, pp. 6-7. ~ In constitutions ~nd, vow formulas the,order is usually reversed "poverty, chastity, and obedience." Was not the purpose of th legislator, however, to show here the p~eeminence of the vow o obedience as mentioned in the well-known text of John XXIII o this matter? ~ In analyzing the obligations of religious life, this legal text first mentions the precepts common'to all Christians to which, it is evident, religious are also bound. It then adds .that besides these religious take on the observance of the evangelical counsels, obligating themselves to these by the observance of the required vows lived out not in isolation but--as far as there is question of religious life in the proper sense of the term--in a stable and commun-ity life. This description might seem to say that religious life claims of those who profess it something more than the Church demands of "ordinary Christians/' This, however, would .not be completely exact. Our Lord's command to be perfect as the heavenly Father holds for al.1, and the exigencies of baptism are the same for all the faithful. But the religious, in responding to a call that comes from our Lord and is acknowledged as such by. the Church when she admits to the vows of religion, intends to live this baptismal perfection in aradical way that by a definitive and irrevocable intention suppresses, the obstacles that might hinder or retard his fervor. "Every Christian," Pius XII said, "is invited to strive with all his powers for the ideal of Christian perfection; but it is realized .in a more complete and.sure way in. the states of perfectton. In religious life there is no question of a Christian ideal 3f life other than that~imposed on every baptized person; it is rather a matter of a complete and total effort to live 3ut in an authentic way the life begun by baptism. The .ame program of perfection is proposed to all; the Gospel s directed to all Christians; religious know no other code of perfection. The originality of religious consists in the ~doption'of radical means which permit them to give full ealization to their baptism; this is done in a prescribed ¯nd organic way within an institute or religious family :pproved by theChurch. In response to a call of our Lord, ,there takes place, at he beginning and origin of religious life a consecration vhich is complete and irrevocable for the heart which hakes it even before the person's lips are authorized to ormulate it publicly before the Church. This consecra-ion, which has .all the fervor and generosity of those -spousals with our Lord of which S~t. Paul speaks, is a lear-sighted and exacting renewal of baptismal-consecra-ion. .~ The life of every Christian is a consecrated one, since n ineradicable character marks it with the baptismal par-icipation in the death and resurrection" of Christ. Every ,aptized person is conformed to Christ; that is, he is T Discourse of December 9, 1957. Acta dpostolicae Sedis, v. 50 ~958), p. 36. 4. 4. ÷ Religious 319 4. 4. 4. Henri Holstein, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 320 regenerated to His likeness, is a member of His Body, and in Him is an adopted son of the Father, Religious profession is not a second baptism: there can be no such thing, but only renewals, more or less fervent, of the baptismal promises. Religious profession--and this is its grandeur and its seriousness---is a decisive act which binds the one who makes it to the obligation of a strict living out of his baptism by forbidding to him everything which could be opposed to the life of the new man. The negative aspects of religious life--separation, re-nouncement, despoiling--which are the first things to capture the attention of the general public as well as of relatives who are present at an investiture or a profession, are nothing else than the execution of this program of radi-cal renouncement which baptism implies. "We are dead with Christ . " says St. Paul. "Regard yourselves as dead to sin and living for God in Christ Jesus. Let sin rule no longer in your mortal body . " (Rom 6:8-12). The demands of baptism are understood by the religious with a total fullness. If it is necessary to renounce sin, then it is necessary to separate oneself from all the occasions of sin, from everything which would be capable of attaching us to a master other than Christ, from-that world for which Christ refused to pray. To renounce sin, says St. Paul, is to refuse to submit to lust. Accordingly, the re-ligious renounces those earthly lusts which are represented by money, by the body, and by self-will; he separates him-self from these by his vows of poverty, chastity, and obedi-ence which in their very austerity represent for him a welcome liberation. In this there is no unconscious self-pity or masochism'. There is only the liberating conclusion of a logic which dares to take literally and without gloss or casuistry the abrupt words of the Gospel. Ever since an Anthony left his town and his family to bury himself in the desert when he heard read in church the gospel passage, "Go, sell what you own," and ever since a Francis of Assisi despoiled himself of all he possessed and returned it all--even :his clothing--to his father, religious life has known the joyous liberty of understanding our Lord literally and ol leaving all to follow Him. This would ,be a childishly imprudent act were it not dictated by a total confidence in the promise of our Lord "The folly of youth," say the wise, when they hear of young men and young women who joyfully put themselves withir the cloister or who bring themselves to enclose their whoh lives within the barriers of obedience and chastity, But i is.not the folly of youth; it is the folly of God who is wise than the wisdom of the prudent, For it is not s~lf-con fidence which brings a person to religious life; and if on should enter in a burst of enthusiasm, the long month of the novitiate would suffice to extinguish it. What leads one to religion is a humble confidence in our Lord who calls, a confidence that is capable of checking an under-standable apprehension and even at times a fear bordering on panic. Like St. Peter, the r~ligi6us makes up'his mind to let down the net only at the word of Jesus. And when the inevitable illusions of the first fervor have yielded place to that maturity of religious life which has been described so profoundly and accurately by Father Voillaume in his recent Lettres aux [raternitds of the Little Brothers of Jesus, then there appears in all its naked grace the power of hope to sustain the religious. More than in his early days, he realizes that what he proposes is humanly senseless; but he also realizes that the power of our Lord sustains him day after day and that it allows him to ad-vance up the steep road which he has chosen. Those who come to us, St. Ignatius of Loyola used to say to his first companions, must pray over it for a long time so that "the Spirit who urges them may also give them the grace of hoping to be able to carry the weight of their vocation with His aid.''s But religious life must not be defined by its negative characteristics, as though a religious placed his. happiness in the restrictions of strict cloister and of stifling prohibi-tions. The truth about religious life--and unfortunately this was left in the shadows in thememoirs of Sister Luke --is that it is the road on which one accompanies Christ as closely as possible; it is the means of imitating and fol-lowing Him as loyally as human weakness permits. If he avoids the sources of earthly desires, the religious knows very well that this is done only to remove the obstacles which spring up between him and Christ. "Whoever wishes to be my disciple," said Christ, "must renounce himself, take up his cross, and follow me." It is not a case of the cross for the sake of the cross nor of suffering for the sake of suffering; it is for the sake of being with Jesus. As Charles de Foucauld wrote in his notes: I can not conceive of a love for Christ] without an overwhelm-ing craving for likeness; for resemblance, and above all for a share in the pains, difficulties, and hardships of life . To be rich, comfortable, living contentedly with my possessions when You Were poor, uncomfortable, living a painful life of hard labor for me . I can not love You in such a way. The separation and the renouncements of religious life which each day accomplish in the religious the "death with Christ" of his baptism are considered by him as so many means of resurrecting with Christ. Better still, his vows appear to him as the attitudes of a person already resurrected. s In Christus, v. 7 (1960), p. 250. 4. 4- 4. Religious Li]e VOLUME 20, 1961 321 Henri Holstein, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS For religious life is not a life of dying, it is a resurrected life. The Lord who is followed is not only the poor work-man of Nazareth and the crucified one of Golgotha, He is also the Lord of glory who appeared on the radiant morn-ing of Easter. And the One to whom virgins give them-selves on the morning of their profession and whom they choose as their Spouse is not only the agonizing Christ of Gethsemane but is as well the Lamb in the paschal splen-dor of His triumph. Already they belong to the procession of virgins who follow the Lamb wherever He goes; their virginal promise is the beginning of the eternal espousals which the Lamb intends to anticipate with them here on earth. By virginity, Christ becomes the only Spouse of their heart. At first view, the vow of chastity is a refusal. Its ef-fect seems to be that of a total renouncement--renounce-ment of the senses, renouncement of affection, renounce-ment of a family. It demands that one leave his family and it forbids all hope of ever founding a family. In reality, however, the vow of chastity is an assuming of a total and exclusive belonging to our Lord. The religious who as-sumes it refuses all idea of a partial belonging; thereby he expresses his desire for that total consecration which re-ligious life realizes as the fullness of baptism. This is the behavior of the new man for whom nothing of the old man, nothing of the partial, nothing of the worldly can make sense. Furthermore, chastity gives its meaning to .the vows of poverty and obedience which in turn give to it their own dimension not of repression, but of a complete spiritual expansion in a total love. For poverty is not the sad ac-ceptance of small privations and of petty dependence; it is the gesture of confidence by one who is no longer anx-ious about those things which the heavenly Father knows we have need of: Moreover, poverty is a refusal to be weighed down by the things of earth and by the cares which afflict those who possess things, making them always fearful of losing or decreasing their precious little treas-ures. The religious knows of another treasure: the love of our Lord which leaves him no time to be occupied in the acquiring of riches, the manipulation of capital, and the preserving of property. Poverty is the testimony of the love given to the divine Spouse by one who has chosen Him in an undivided way. Not~only does the religious place his confidence in Him with regard to his temporal life, he also detaches himself from every self-anxiety and from the monopolizing desire for possessions, d6ing this in order that he might give himself wholly to the Spouse of his soul. Chastity, which is the choosing of our Lord alone,~and poverty, which refuses to allow a person to be monop- lized by any selfish interest, mutually complement each ther. And by the conjunction of these two, obedience re-eives all its meaning. Obedience can easilyJappea~, to be n infantile submission; actually in the eyes of faith it is preferring of the will of God. Defined in the negative 2rms of renouncement of .initiative and independence~ bedience is a caricature that is ridiculous and hateful. It as value only so far as it is an ardent search for the good ,leasure of the One who is loved. Christ Himself said that Iis food was to do the will of His Father. Accordingly, the eligious has only one nourishment: the will of our Lord ;hich is the will of the Father who is the only guide of the ctivity of the only begotten Son: "I always do whatever s pleasing to him." The superior, this brother or this sister who commands ,le, is important for me only because he represents Christ. The abbot," says St. Benedict, "takes the place of Christ." t is Christ whom through faith I hear and see in _my uperior. The man does not interest me, even though he ,e a saint, a genius, or a dear friend. It is Christ who is the ,bject of my obedience; it is to Him that I render my .omage in performing what is commanded me in His ,ame. There is good reason for saying that "obedience is n attitude of faith and love only if it is chaste; that is, if t is inspired.by the exclusive love o,f 9ur Lord." Otherwise t becomes degraded and turns into an interested con- 9rmism or into an Unacceptable infantilism. In religious life, all the elements are consistent with.~ach .ther; chastity, which is an espousal and a consecration ~ Christ, gives its own characteristic mark to a life that is ,oor and dependent through obedience; for these two ows, if they are to be genuine in both great and little hings, imply an exclusive choice of Christ as the only pouse of one's soul. This is why there must be a question here of ~vows, of tatutory promises which oblige one's whole life, thereby arpassing the unstable impulse of a moment of fervor. ¯ ove demands definitive commitments, it engages the ,hole life, it gives assurance for the future. All this which among men is often only an illusion 'hich the future may soon contradict unless the love is ~oted in prayer and nourished by recollection is made ossible for the re.ligious by his original and constantly 2newed confidence in the grace of Him who has called. The religious vow is the instrument of that consecra-on which realizes the baptismal consecration in all the lentitude 9f its demands. If at first view it appears as an ll-out effort to excludeand eradicate the obstacles which re opposed to the perfection of baptismal life, neverthe-ss the religious vow signifies the total consecration of ÷ + ÷ Religious Li~e VOLUME 20, 196]. Henri Holstein, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 324 one's whole life to our Lord. It is included in the initia "consecration" which Christ made when He came into world: "I have come, O Father, to do thy will1" The Ser vant has no other intention than that of accomplishing work for which He was sent into the world; for tliat reasor His sole occupation will be to do the will of the Father In line with this consecration of our Lord and in ticipation of this "intention" of the Incarnate Word, religious places himself in the hands of God. As Fathe Bergh has said: The vow is the expression of a positive consecration to divim love. God loved above everything; there in short is the mean ing of religious life . Its program should not be enunciatec precisely in the abstract terms of poverty, chastity, and obedi ence, but rather under the concrete form 0[ a loving imitatior of Christ poor, chaste, and obedient, of Christ the Servant of th~ Father and of men? Religious Life a Witness in the Church Up to this point we have looked at religious life onl, from the viewpoint of a personal relation that unites to our Lord, Now, however, it is necessary to consider in the Church. To do this, we shall consider two points First, the significance of religious life in relation Church and second, the testimony ~to the Church whirl religious life gives to the world. What then does religious life signify in relation to Church?~In other words, why does the Church, withou whose consent there could not be ~ community or an stitute professing the life of the counsels, recognize amon[ her baptized children the existence of groups which order to live out their baptismal life in a more radical oblige themselves publicly to the observance of poverty chastity, and obedience? It seems to me that by the ligious life the Church expresses her own proper mystery The purpose of religious life is to concretize and to realization to the mystery of the bride who is without In the admirable fifth chapter of the Letter to Ephesians, St. Paul presents the Church as the bride whon Christ has chosen for Himself. In order to make her hol~ and to "present to himself the Church in all her glory, having spot or wrinkle," He delivered Himself for Being submitted to Christ, the Churcti has for Him deference and respect, the discreet and fervent love whicl the Bible constantly presents as the expression of the sponse of the creature to his Creator. This is a virgina union which is consummated in those "nuptials of Lamb" to which the angel invited the seer of the Apoc~ lypse: "Come, I will show you the spouse of the Lamb., "And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming dow, ~ In Revue diocesaine de Tournai, v. 15 (1960), p. 18. tom out of heaven from God, made ready as a young bride :dorned for her husband" (Ap 21:9,2), The holy bride has lo gifts other than those .given ~her by her Spouse--the :lorious heritage which He acquired by His Blood; could he, then, have any other desire thafi to follow her Spouse :nd to accomplish His entire will: "The Church," says ¯ aint Paul, "submits to Christ" (Eph 5:24)? ~ If all Christian living manifests in its own way the nystery of the Church, is it not fitting that certain ones hould have the particular duty:of manifesting the mystery ,f the virginal bride in its complete authenticity? These :re those who among all the redeemed have the singular ,rivilege of following the .Lamb wherever He goes; for 'they are virgins." Theirs is an absolute and undivided ove which blossoms in holy poverty and lov!ng obedience; t is the mystery of the Church and her consecrated ones. Through religious life the Church manifests her own ~roper mystery to herself and to the world.-This is why eligious life is so dear to her; it is the reason why through he voices of her leaders, especially the recent Popes, she ~ever ceases to increase her efforts to maintain the cor-ectness of religious life in its striving for sanctity: Holy Mother Church has always Striven with solicitous ~are nd maternal affection for the children of her predilection who ,ave given their whole lives to Christ in order to follow Him reely on the arduous path of the counsels that she might onstantly render them worthy of their heavenly resolve and ngelic vocation?° Religious, by reason of the vocation which surpasses hem and which they know themselves unworthy of, are an ntimate witness to the Church herself; at the same time hey are a witness of the Church to all those who see them ive. Nourished in the Church and directed by her, they ,ear witness to her and show forth that the Church in its nmost reality is truly the bride whom Christ has chosen or Himself. First of all, religious give testimony to the sense of God. )ur modern world has lost this to the extent, that even qany Christians do not understand the contemplative ire; their attitude is a questioning one: "Of what use is t?" To this I would answer that to judge religious life by ts relation to human utility is to condemn oneself to fisunderstand it. I readily maintain the paradox that eligious life is not justified by its usefulness for men but ,y its value in the sight of God. In its primary meaning it ppears useless to the city of man, for the precise reason hat it exists in its entirety for God. Speaking o[ contemplation, Mademoiselle Ceta-Millard uotes the phrase of Joan of Arc, "God the first to be _'rved." I would be tempted to einphasize this even more ~°Acta Apostolicae Sedis, v. 39 (1947), p. 114. 4- 4- 4- Religious Lile VOLUME 20, 1961 325 Henri Holstein, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS by saying,, "God the 0nly one to be servedl" This is wh there are in the Church contemplative orders, monasterie of prayer--Carmelites, Poor Clares, Carthusians, Tral~ pists. Their proper witness is to recall to men the im portance of prayer, the urgency of penance, the necessit for adoration. But this same witness is also given by every genuin religious life. Under pain of an anemia'that would quickl become fatal, religious life must always include prayel It can exist and is able to flourish only by reason of spirit of prayer which animates every hour of the day, n matter how filled it may be with the care of the sick, th education of children, the help of the aged or the undel developed. In order to create a suitable climate, there added to prayer religious observance, the rule of silenc~ cloister. One may be tempted to smile at these or to b scandalized by them. Every tradition can manifest a tain rigidity; at times inevitable minutiae may make n ligious life a little out-of-date or unadapted to the time But these are simple human weaknesses which the Churc herself does not hesitate to remedy. To judge religiou tradition by such details is to give proof of pettiness c spirit. W.hat is at stake here and what justifies the ot servances of religious life is the need and the desire to s~ up a favorable climate for prayer. For religious life is a present heralding and'anticipatio of the eternal life to which we are destined by our ba[ tism. It shows forth that this present world is not the onl one, but that there exists a true city in comparison wit which the city of this world with its bustle and its.narro~ cares is vanity. This is the often emphasized eschatologic~ meaning of the vow of chastity: It is an anticipation of th life of heaven; on this earth where the body and sensualit count for so much, it represents "the life of the angels as lived by beings of flesh and blood. Turned toward th heavenly Jerusalem, religious already attempt to live th~ which will be their condition in heaven. "That which will all be," said St. ,~mbrose to the virgins of his tim, "you have already begun to be, Already in this world, yo possess the glory of the resurrection; you live in time, bt without the defilements of time, In persevering in chastit you are the equals of the angels of God." This eschatological witness must be extended to th entirety of religious life. As Father Giuliani writes: Being .a complete break with the world, religious life is witness gwen to the Kingdom of God. Through his life of po erty, chastity, and obedience, the religious makes apparent reality that is begun here below for all, but which will be vealed in its fullness only in the world of the resurrection. is poor in order to affirm that God constitutes the riches of elect in the city of the blessed; he is chaste in order to affirm th there will be no other nuptials other than that of God and H people; he is obedient in order to affirm that the liberty of the creature consists in submission to the full accomplishment, of the will of God. Thus it is that in the Church on earth the re-ligious is a witness to the Church of glory,a But at the same time and by a sort of paradox, religious life also manifests in the Church the charity of Christ who willed to share our condition. To present religious life only as an anticipation of heaven risks considering it as a comfortable evasion, a charge, often enough directed against it. Are religious dispensed from one of the two facets of the great commandment, the one .that commands love of neighb.or? God forbid, for. then they would no longer be Christians. Besides, one has only to recall the multiplication in the Church of charitable orders, insti-tutes, and congregations to reduce to nothing the objec-tion of laziness and flight made against religious life. Contrary to this objection, it can be shown that religious life in its essence is a life of devotion to the neighbor. Pope Pius XlI in the constitution Sponsa Christi has stated this without ambiguity: Since the perfection of Christian life consists especially in charity, and since it is really one and the same charity with which we must love God alone above all and all: men ir~ Him, Holy Mother Church demands of all nuns who canonicallyproo fess alife of'contemplation, together with aperfect love of God, also a perfect love of the neighbor; and for the sake of this charity and their state of life, religious men and women must devote themselves wholly to the needs of the Church and of all those who are in .want. If out of love for Christ a religious consecrates himself to only one thing, the following of Christ as closely as 'possible, then it becomes unthinkable that he should be disinterested in the work of redemption, the salvation of the world. The love of God, which is sovereignly jealous, is also sovereignly generous; this love desires the good, even the temporal good, of all men. The commandment of mutual love .is primary for all religious, and religious life gives testimony in the Church to the charity of God. The witness of religious, then, will be a witness of fra-ternal charity, Of a charity that is patient, inventive, char-acterized by the unfetterable impulses of missionary zeal, of pedagogical discoveries, of parental solicitude. Is there a single kind of suffering, of sickness, or of infirmity which religious life has not sought to care for in the course of history? The almost infinite variety of hospital and teach-ing congregations represent a sort of diffraction of charity towards the neighbor; it is touching to discover at the origin of a given institute the desire to take charge of a particular type of misfortune which seemed to the founder not to have received sufficient care. Although admittedly "In Etudes, June, 1957, p. 397. 4- 4- + Religious Liye VOLUME 20, 1961 327 Henri Holstein, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 328 it is often overly dispersed, such an attitude is a magnifi-cent and multiform witness given by religious life of a tireless and tirelessly inventive charity, renewed each day by prayer and union with Christ. This last characteristic must be emphasized. The apos-tolate and the devotion of religious draw their strength and their constancy from the consecration of their life to the Lord. It is ~his consecration that enables religious to be kind and sympathetic to the unfortunate and the afflicted. Likewise it is this consecration that makes it possible for a religious to interest himself in everything that is human, in science, in literature, in the arts. Did not our Lord who took on Himself every infirmity, also assume by His in-carnation every authentic human value? Conclusion This is the witness to the Church which is constantly given in silence and modesty by religious life. It does give witness for itself, but for the Church which has it, accepted it, encouraged it, and which does not cease to be interested in it. Moreover the religious does not give testimony for his own limited congregation, but the entire Church of Christ. Religious life manifests the magnificent fecundity of Church of which the Vatican Council speaks, in the fra-ternal diversity of vocations and spiritualities, religious life is a permanent sign of both the catholicity and unity of the Church. For on the magnificent path which our Lord calls all of them to follow, there is the same love of Christ, the same faithful adherence to the Gospel as the unique rule of their attitudes, the same charity welcoming every appeal of suffering, of education, of the apostolate. And all this takes place in the calm and serene joy those who, having given Up all for our Lord, know that even here below they have 'received the hundredfold. Who are better witnesses than religious of the joy the children of God and of the children of the Church? True, they do not have a monopoly of this, for they lay claim to nothing, not even the peace which radiates from. their faces. But the joy of their Lord which they always bear about with them--they know well that no one can take it from them. The joy of religious life is perhaps the most constant and the most efficacious trait of its witness. This is so pre-cisely because it manifests itself spontaneous~ly without being conscious of itself and without imposing itself upon those it meets. Julien Green relates that on a walk in the United States during the .war he visited a scholasticate of religious order. To the young man who was showing him through the large establishment, he would have liked ask a single question, a question more important to him han all the details of architecture and of theological programs that the young man was giving him. The .fiues-tion he wished to ask was one addressed to the young man personally, since he was a person.about whom some might think that his ardent youth had been enclosed within the ~ad walls of a seminary and the complicated prescriptions of a rule. The question was this: "Young man, are you happy here?" But, continues the diary of the novelist, I :lid not have the courage to ask the question. "For my guide had about him the radiant air of those who feel themselves loved by heaven.''12 ~ Julien Green, Journal, v. 4, p. 106. ÷ Religious Lile VOLUME 20, 1961 329 I~'; 'LEGRAND The Prophetical Meanin of Celibaq ÷ L. Legrand is on the faculty of St. Peter's Seminary, Bangalore, India. REVIEW FOR ~RELIGIOU~S 330 When Jephte's daughter realized that she had to in fulfilment of her father's vow, she withdrew mountains "to bewail her virginity" (Jg 11:37-40).significant that what she laments over is her virginity For hers.elf, her father, her companions, and those wh~ recorded that tradition, what made her fate so pitifu was not the fact that she had to leave the world in bloom of her youth: this is a romantic view which not belong to the stern biblical times. For the Israelite the pathos of her story lies in the fact that she will experience the joys of matrimony and motherhood. will die a virgin, and it is a curse, a disgrace similar the shame attached to sterility (see Lk 1:25). The prophet have a similar thought in mind when, in their lamenta tions, they give the chosen people the title of "Virgin Israel": "Listen to my lamentation, house of Israel!. has fallen, she shall not rise again, the Virgin of Israel." this text Amos (5:2; see J1 1:8; Lam 1 : 15; 2:13), by callin~ Israel a Virgin, wants to emphasize her misery: she will like a virgin, without leaving any descendants. It is like echo, at the collective level, of the laments of Jephte' daughter. These examples show clearly that according to the Semitic mentality, virginity is far from being an It is a fecund matrimony which is honorable and a of God's blessings (Ps 126). The same applies to men L. K6hler remarks that the Old Testament has no wore for bachelor, so unusual is the idea.~ Christ will change that attitude towards celibacy 19:12). But can we not find already in the Old Testamen a preparation and an anticipation of His teaching? Towards the end of the Old Testament period at leas some groups among the Essenes observed celibacy. This article is reprinted with permission from Scripture, Octobe 1960. pp. 97-105, and January, 1961, pp. 12-20. =Hebrew Man (Loudon: S.C.M., 1956), p. 89. fortunately the authors who mention it are very vague on the motives of that observance. Josephus (The Jewish ,,War, II, 8; 2) and Philo (quoted by Eusebius in Prepara-tion for the Gospel, VIII, 2; Patrologia Graeca, 21, 644 AB), putting themselves at the level of their pagan readers, reduce the celibacy of the Essenes to a misogyny entirely void of any religious value: "They beware of the impu-dence of women and are convinced that none of them can keep her faith to a single man," says Josephus. Pliny (Natural History, V, 17) describes the Essenes as philoso-phers, "tired of life" (vita fessos), who give up. the pleasures of love: Essenian celibacy would be of a Stoician type, but evidently Pliny's competency can be doubted when it comes to interpreting the motives of a Hebrew sect. The Qumran texts might have given us an explanation, but so far on this. question they have not been Very helpful. Though they know of a temporary continence on the occasion of the eschatological war,3 they do not impose .celibacy on the members of the community. On the con-trary, the prologue of the m~inual for the future congre-gation speaks explicitly of women and children,4 and the discovery of female skeletons in the cemetery of the com-munity5 makes it cl~ar that at Qumran as in the sect of DamascusS---if the two sects were distinct--matrimony was at least allowed. In short, a few groups among the Essenes present an interesting case of pre-Christian celi-bacy; the study of thai case might throw some light on the New Testament ideal of virginity, but such a study is impaired by the lack of reliable explanation of their mo-tives. And when we come across first,hand contemporary documentation, it happens that it concerns a sect which ~id not observe celibacy as a rule. ~qremiah, the First Celibate Fortunately the Old Testament presents a much more ancient and clearer case of celibacy: the case of Jeremiah, "a virgin prophet and a figure of the Great Phophet who too was a Virgin and the son of a Virgin.''7 Jeremiah was apparently the first biblical character to embrace celibacy as a state of life. At least he is the first one to whom Scripture attributes celibacy explicitly. Others before him may have abstained from marriage. Ancient Christian writers often suppose that Elijah did so3 and make of him s The War o[ the Children o! Light, VII, 3, 4. iSee Theodore Gaster, The Dead Sea Scriptures (Garden City: Doubleday, 1957), p. 307. 5 See Revue biblique, 63 (1956), pp. 569-72; 6 Document o[ Damascu.~', IV, 20-V, 6; VII, 6-8. 7 Bossuet, Mdditations sur l'dvangile, 109th day. SSee the texts in Elie le prophOte (Bruges: Descl~e de Brouwer, 1956), V, 1, pp. 165 and'189. But St. Augustine was not convinced of the celibacy of Elias: De Genesi ad litteram, IX, 6. 4, The Meaning Celibacy VOLUME 20, 1961 ,+ L. Legrand REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS the father of monastic life. But the testimony of Scripture concerning Elijah is purely negative: no wife is mentioned, but the Bible does not speak of his celibacy either. Even if he remained a celibate, we have no indication as to the reasons that prompted him. Jeremiah, on the contrary, in his confessions speaks of his celibacy and explaim it. We may owe this insight on his private life to his intro-spective mood, another quality that was rare in ancient Israel. Anyway he provides us with the most ancient re-flection on celibacy. In it we can trace to its beginnings the biblical doctrine of virginity: The word of the Lord came to me saying: Do not take a wife; have no sons and no daughters in this place. For thus says the Lord concerning the sons and daughters that are born here and concerning the mothers that bore them and concerning their fathers who begot them in this land: They shall die miserably, without being lamented, without being buried. . They shall be as dung upon the face of the earth. They shall perish by the sword and by famine. Their carcasses shall be a prey for the birds of the air and the wild animals (Jer 16:1-4). Those are the terms by which Jeremiah explains his .celibacy. Are those verses to be understood as a positive order of God, given to the prophet when he came of age and enjoining him to abstain from matrimony? It might be said that celibacy was progressively imposed upon the prophet by the circumstances, his isolation, and the per-secutions that made him an outcast. Eventually he would have understood that beneath those circumstances there was a divine ordinance and, with typical Hebrew disre-gard for secondary causes, he would have expressed it in the literary form of an order. In any case, it is clear that Jeremiah gives his celibacy a symbolical value. The loneliness of his unmarried life forebodes the desolation of Israel. Death is about to sweep over the country, Jere-miah's forlorn celibacy is nothing but an enacted proph-ecy of the imminent doom. Calamity will be such as to make meaningless matrimony and procreation. Jeremiah's celibacy is to be understood as a prophecy in action. Symbolical actions were frequent among the prophets. Thus to announce the imminent captivity of the Egyptians, Isaiah walks naked in the streets of Jeru-salem (Is 20:1-6). Jeremiah breaks a pot to symbolize the destruction of the capital (Jer 19:1-11). Ezekiel makes a plan of the siege to come, cooks impure food as the famished inhabitants of the besieged city will have to do, cuts his beard and scatters it to the four winds as the population of Judah will be scattered (Ez 4:1-5:4). In some cases it was the whole life of a prophet which was given by God a symbolical significance: for instance, Hosea's matrimonial misfortunes symbolized the unhapPy~ relations between Yahweh and His unfaithful spouse Israel (Hos 1:3). Jeremiah's life too was symbolical. He lived in times of distress. He was to be a witness of the destruction of Sion. It was his sad duty to announce~the imminent deso-lation: "Every time I have to utter the word, I must shout and proclaim: Violence and ruinsl" (Jet 20:8). Still more: it was his tragic destiny to anticipate in his existence and signify in his own life the terrible fate of. the "Virgin of Israel." "The Virgin of Israel" was soon to undergo the fate of Jephte's daughter, to die childless, to disappear with-out hope. With his prophetical insight, Jeremiah could see already the shadow of death spreading over the coun-try. He could hear already the moaning of th~ land: "Teach your daughter this lamentation: Death has climbed in at our windows; she has entered our palaces, destroyed the children in the street, the young men in the square. Corpses lie like dung all over the country" (Jet 9:20-21). This was 'no mere Oriental exaggeration. What Israel was about to witness and Jeremiah had to announce was really the death of Israel. Israel .,had been living by the covenant and now, by the sin of the people, the cove-nant had been broken. The two institutions in which the covenant was embodied and through which God's graces came down upon the people, the two great signs of God's indwelling in the land. of His choice, the temple and the kingship, would soon disappear. Only a few years more and Nabuchodonosor would invade Judah, burn the sanctuary, enslave the king and kill his children. For the Israelites this would be the end 6f the world, the day of the Lord, day of doom and darkness, day of i~eturn to the original chaos (Jer 4:23-31; 15:2-4). Ezekiel will explain in a dramatic way the meaning of the fall of Jerusalem: the Glory of God will leave His defiled abode and abandon the land (Ez 8:1-11:25). Israel will die and nothing short of a resurrection will bring her back to life (Ez 37:1-14). When the exiles leave Palestine, Rachel'can sing her dirge at Rama (Jer 31:15): her children are no more. Israel as a people has disappeared. God's people has been dispersed. There are no more heirs of the promises and ~children of the covenant unless God repeats the Exodus and creates a new people. A testament is over. God's plan has apparently failed. Death reigns. Prophetically Jeremiah sees all that beforehand. He experiences it proleptically in his flesh. Excluded from the Temple (Jer 36:5), excommunicated so to say from his village (Jer 11:8; 12:6; 11:19-23) and from the community (Jer 20:2; 36:25), he will experience before the exile what it means to live estranged from one's country, away 4. + The Meaning Celibacy VOLUME 20, 1961 L. Legran~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS from the Temple of the Lord. Before the Israelites he knows the bitter taste of a life which has no hope left on earth. "Never could I sit joyful in the company of those who were happy; forlorn I was under the power of thy hand for thou hadst filled me with wrath'~ (Jer 15:17). Thus was Jeremiah's life an anticipation of the im-minent doom. His celibacy too. When death :already casts her shadow over the land, is it a time to marry? "For thus says Yahweh Sabaoth, the God of Israel: Behold I will put an end, in this place, under your very eyes and in your very days, to the shouts of.gladness and of mirth, to the songs of the bride and of the bridegroom" (Jer ~16:9). An end of joy, life, marriage: the country turns into a sheol: there is no marriage and no begetting in the sheol. The command of the Lord to "increase and multiply" (Gen 1:28) assumed that the world was good (Gen 1:4, 10). But now 'that man's sin has aroused death, the Lord re-verses His command: "Do not take a wife; have no sons and no daughters in this place." Jeremiah's life of solitude announces the reign of death and anticipates the end of the world he lived in. His celibacy is in line with his message of doom. It is part of those trials by which "the most~suffering of the prophets," as St, Isidorus of Pelusia puts it;9 anticipates God's judgment. It is ~part of the sufferings which point to the cross, the final expression of God!s judgment. The solitude of the lonely prophet of Anatoth announces the dereliction-of the crucified vic-tim of Calvary. It has the same significance: it signifies the end of an economy in which God's promises and graces were entrusted to Israel according to the flesh and communicated by way of generation. This order dis-appears. When God will raise a new Israel, it will be an Israel according to the spirit .in which one will have access not by right of birth but by direct reception of the Spirit'(Jer 31:31-35). In such a people the fecundity of the flesh will have lost its value. The Negative Aspect of CelibacyI" "'On Account ol the Present Necessity" Replying to a question of the Corinthians concerning virgins, St. Paul's advice is to leave them" in that state: But,the explanation,he gives is not very clear; "I consider that it is better to be so on, account of the present neces-sity" (1 Cor 7:26). What is that "present necessity" that justifies celibacy? Catholic commentators (Cornely, Lemonnier, Allo, Cal-lan, W. Rees, Osty, and others) see in that "necessity;" as Osty puts it, "the thousand worries of married life,"x0 o In Patrologia graeca, 78, 356. ~ Epttres aux Corinthiens ~Bible de ]~rusalem) (Paris: Cerf, 1949), p. 40. or else the imminent persecutions "which'an unmarried person is better able to bear.''11 The standpoint of the Apostle would be purely individual, psychological or as-cetical. On him who is married the burden of the world is more heavy. The celibate, on the contrary, can devote himself fully to the service of God. ,~ Such a thought is certainly not foreign to St. Paul's mind: he expresses it in verses 39 to 35 of, the same chap-ter. Yet this does not seem to be for him a primary consider-ation. The immediate explanation he gives of his pref-erence for celibacy follows another line: "The time is short . The world in its present form is passing away" (vv 99- 31). This shows that his outlook is mainly collective and eschatological: the end of the world is~'drawing near: let us adapt our attitude to these new circumstances; it istime to detach ourselves from a ~d0omed world. "Even those who have a wife, let themlive as if they had none., and those who have to deal with the world as if they had not." Individual considerations are only an application,,of this iiew on the divine economy. It is because the'times we re' living in are the times of the end that it is better not to be burdened with matrimonial obligations, so as to be able to give one's undivided attention to God. The vocabulary used by St. Paul in this section confirms this ~schatological interpretation of his views on cdibacy. The words he uses clearly belong to the vocabulary of apocalyptic literature. The "necess.ity" (andgk~) .whs the technical term used to describe the crisis of the last times (Lk 21:23; 1 The~ 3:7; Ps.Sal,,5:8; Test jos,,2~.4.);.,in th~t sense it is akin to "tribulation (thlipsis) used l~e.re also to describe the present condition (v 98) a.nd which has also an apocalyptic value (Mt 25: 9-28; Ap 1.: 9~; 7:14; 2 Thes ! : 6), Similarly the term used for "time" in verse 29 (ttairos) 'is about a technical term for the period before the Ad-- vent''12 (see Rom 13:11; Heb 9:9; 1 Pet 1:5, 11). It is true that these terms are not always taken in their technical eschatological sense. But their convergence and the con-text make it clear that St. Paul sets virginity against an eschatological background. With Jeremiah he considers celibacy as a testimony that the last times have come, an attitude that presages the end. The difficulty of this interpretation--an.d what makes Catholic commentators to shrink from it--is that it seems to suppose in St. Paul the erroneous belief that the end bf the world was imminent. Can we 'accept such an ex-n W. Rees in Catholic Commentary on Holy Scripture (Edin-burgh: Nelson, 1953), p. 1090. ~ A. Robertson andA. Plummer, First Epistle o[ St. Paul. (Edin-burgh: T. and T. Clark, 1911), p. 152 . ÷ ÷ ÷ The Mean~ing Celibacy VOLUME 20, 1961 L. Le~and REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 336 planation of celibacy without rallying to the consequent eschatology of A. Schweitzer?xa Prat, followed by Huby and Spicq, does not think the objection decisive. He accepts as possible the eschatologi-cal explanation of virginity. Quoting I Corinthians 7:26- 31, he explains: "Is it possible that Paul was haunted by the near prospect of the Parousia? We must not deny this a priori . Lacking certain knowledge, he might have formed an opinion based upon probabilities and con-jectures . It is at least possible that he guided his con-duct and his counsels by such probabilities.TM This inter-pretation can be defended, provided we attribute to Paul not a positive teaching concerning the imminence of an event, the day and hour of which none can know, but an opinion, a desire, a hope without certitude,x~ This is surely sufficient to safeguard biblical inerrancy and remain within the limits fixed by the Biblical Commission, Yet this exegesis is not fully satisfactory, for it leaves the im-pression that the eschatologic~il explanation~of celibacy should not be taken too seriously. It would be one of those views that reflect more the prejudices of the time than the Apostle's personal thought, like the arguments bY which Paul tries to justify the imposition of the veil-on women in the assembly (1 Cot 11:2-16) or the midrashic allusion to the rock following the Jews in the deser~t (1 Cor 10:4) Thus St. Paul would have used the naive expectation of an imminent Parousia to insist on virginity, but that would be a mer_e argumentum ad hominem that should not be pressed too "much. The real and solid ground fo~ celibacy would remain the personal and ascetical con-siderations sketched in verses 32 to 34. Accepting Prat's eschatological interpretation of Paul's arguments for virginity, it may be possible to go deeper b) comparing the thought of the Apostle with that of Jere-miah. Is not the "present necessity" of 1 Corinthians 7:26 parallel with the explanation Jeremiah .gave of his celi-bacy? If so, can we not find in Paul~s eschatological justifi. cation of virginity a lasting value, something much deeper than a pious illusion? It all amounts to a proper evaluation of his eschatolog~- cal hope. Was it a delusion which he had, but which he avoided expressing firmly? Or was it on the contrary a 18 See the decree of the Biblical Commission of June 18, 1915 in Enchiridion Biblicum, 2nd ed. (Naples: D'Auria, 1954),'nn. 419--21. a, The Theology o[ St. Paul (London: Burns, Oates, and Wash bourne, 1926), V. 1, p. 112. Prat explained his mind still more clear!} in a few pages of his final chapter on "The Last Things" which h~ suppressed to satisfy an over-zealous censor. These pages have been published in Prat's biography I~y J. Cal~s, p. 99. a~j. Huby, Ep~tres aux Corinthiens (Paris: Beauchesne, 19.46); W Rees also (op. cir.) accepts an eschatological influence on St. Paul't thought on virginity. central element of his faith and of his spiritual outlook? O. Cullmann, for the early Church in general, and L. Cerfaux, for St. Paul in particular, have shown that is the second view which is true. There is much ~ore than a question of knowing whethei~ Paul or the early Church ex-pected or not an imminent Parousia. For them and for us, the heart of the matter is not the date of the Par0usia but its significance. In Cullmann's terms, what is the connec-tion of the present period of history (the times of the Church) with the past (death and resurrection of Christ) and the future (final resurrection)~1~ The problem is not chronological but theological. St. Paul may or may not have been under the impression that Christ was to return soon. This is rather °immaterial and irrelevant. What matters is that, for him, and for the early Christians, ours are the last days (Acts 2:16 if). The last hour has begun with the death of the Lord (1 Jn 2:18), How long will it be? Nobody knows, but it is clear that now, in Christ, history has reached its end and what we wimess now in the world is the consummation of the end: "The world goes disappearing" (1 Jn 2:i7). The Apocalyp~ses of St. John and of the synoptic Gospels show in a veiled language that the trials the Church has to undergo are the fore-running signs of the consummation, and St. Paul explains that the individual tribulations of the Christians are their share of the Messianic woes (Cor 1:24).xr The present period may be short or long: after all, "with the Lord, one day ,is as a thousand years and a thousand years as one day" (2 Pet 3:8). In any case, Chris-tian life is thoroughly eschatological in character. What-ever may be the actual date of the Parousia, we live after the end of history has been reached. We are just waiting for the consummation of the end, we turn towards it and we prepare it. Parous.ia hangs so to say over our life: even if chronologically it may be still distant, it is theologically imminent: it is the only development of the history of salvation that we can expect, and it gives its color to our outlook on things. Seen in the light of faith, the history we live in and our personal fate appear as signs of the end. Celibacy is one of those signs: it shows that the last times have come. It proclaims that the world is disap-pearing. The end has come. Man's primary duty is no more to continue the human species. It is on the contrary to free himself from a fleeting world which has already 10 O. Cullmann, Christ and Time (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1950), 17 In Col 1:24 "tribulationes Christi" should be translated "the messianic woes" and not "the sufferings ot Christ" (it is thlipsis and not path~ma). The phrase does not refer to the sufferings of our Lord but, according to a terminology common in Judaism, to the trials God's people had to undergo to reach the messianic times, the birth pangs of the new world. ÷ ÷ ÷ The Meaning Celiba~'~ VOLUME 20, 1961 REVIEW FOR REI.IG]OUS lost its substance. This is not an attitude of panic before a threa, tening disaster. It is rather an act of faith in the significance of the Lord's death, beginning of the end. Thus Paul understood virginity exactly as Jeremiah. Jeremiah did not know the date of the destruction of Jerusalem: it is not the role nor the charisma of the prophets to give a chronology of the future. But'one thing he knew for certain: on account of the infidelity of the people, the former covenant had become void. Conse-quently the old institutions like the Temple and the kingship would break like empty shells and Israe!, aban-doned by God, would collapse. H~ knew that his was a time of death. The nuptial songs 'would be replaced by lamentations. Marriage and procreation had lost their meaning. The prophet showed it by his own life: his celibacy was an enacted lamentation. Similarly, St. Paul did not know the date of the end. But he knew for certain that the world had condemned it-self by condemning Christ and that the worldly powers had been nailed down on the cross. It was God's plan to leave some interval before the actual end of all, time to: allow the mystery of iniquity to reach its climax and the Church to spread all over the w~rld. During that time life was to continue and marriage was still legitimate. Yet even married people had to understand that they were no longer of the world they were in. Still using the world, they had to be detached from it. Even in marriage they had to bring an attitude of freedom, a tension towards a higher form of love, the love of Christ 'towards His bride the Church (see Eph 5:25-33). And itis quite fitting that to remind men of the freedom they should keep towards a fleeting world there should be, in the Church, a special charisma (1 Cor 7".'7) of virginity, akin to the charisma of prophecy. The celibate's life is an enacted prophecy. His whole life shouts to the world that it is passing away. As Jeremiah announced to the Chosen People the end of the old covenant, the celibate, new Jeremiah, announces the end of the old world. He embodies the teachings of th~ Apocalypses. He stands as a witness of the day bf the Lord, the day of wrath and of death which began qn that Friday of Nisan when the'Lamb was slaughtered Mount Calvary. + The Positive Aspect ot Celibacy: "'On Account ot the + Kingdom of Heaven'" + What has been said so far has shown that, according to the Bible, and according to Jeremiah and St. Paul es-pecially, celibate life is a prophecy in action, a forebodiiag of the end, a public proclamatioh of the fleeting character of this world. It goes without saying that this is only one aspect of the mystery. There is another one. The last days are not only days of doom: they are also days of resurrection. Jeremiah was not only the prophet of the fall of Jerusalem: he was also the prophet of the .new covenant (Jet 31:31= 35). Similarly for St. Paul the last days are only~secondarily days of woe: primarily, they are the days of the Par0usia~ when Christ will come and hand over to °the Father the world revivified by the Spirit (1 Cor 15). The Apocalypse~ ends its enumeration of th~ eschatological calamities~by the resplendent description~of the~heavenly ~Jerusalem° where everything is niade new (Ap 21). Christ's death:on Calvary was only the beginning of his exaltation 1~-15; 12:32-33). The full, prophetical meaning of virgin-ity is to be understood ifi reference td the whole mystery of death and life contained in Christ. Celibacy is 'not only an enacted prophecy of~th~ imminent doom: it announces also and anticipates the life to come, "the life of the new world in the Spirit. ~ ~ Jeremiah, who.had announced the new covenant, might' have understood that virginity would be the typical state~ in that new life which was.nol6nger to be granted bythe power of the flesh but by the Spirit. But in fact he does not seem to have realized these implications of~his prophetical' teaching. Or if he did, he had no occasion to express it. We have to come to the Gospels to find' this doctrine ex-pounded. ~ ¯ Jesus lived a celibate life. We~can not say that hlscase was unique. By the beginnings of the Christian era, the~ ideal of virginity seems to have been cultivated at least in some restricted circles of Judaism. We.have seen the rather~ mysterious case of the. Essenes. John~the Baptist also must tiave observed celibacy. This movement might explain the pu~rpose of virginity expressed by Mary in Luke 1:34. Jesus assumed that ideal and. by His very life fulfilled the la'tent aspirations it contained. Yet there is very little in the Gospels about virginity. This is not surprising. The Gospels are only factual: sum-maries. There is little in themfor introspection and self-~ analysis. They have,little to say. about Jesus' personal life. They do not tell us how he felt when praying;when work-ing miracles, when undergoing-the trials o~ His 'Passion. It is no wonder,., therefore, ~that they would be ~almost completely silent concerning Jesus' celibacy. This silence gives more value to the one statement of the Gospels in which Christ explained howh'e understood His virginity. It was on an occasion in which he had emphasized once more the law of~ indissolubility o[ matrimony. The dis-as See R. Laurentin, Structure et thdologie de Luc I-H iPa.ris: Gabalda, 1957). The Meaning Celibacy VOLUMEo20~. 1961 ,~ , 339 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ciples could hardly understand the intransigence of the Master. As usual, Jesus tried to bring light to the discus-sion by taking it to a.higher level. The heart of the matter is not the convenience of men but the requirements of the Kingdom of God. The Kingdom of God does make exact-ing demands upon its members. See the case of those to whom it has been given to realize fully the implications of the coming of the Kingdom: they can be compared to eunuchsl "There are eunuchs who were born so from their mother's womb; and ttiere are eunuchs who were made so by men; and there are eunuchs who have made themselves so in view of the Kingdom of Heaven" (Mt 19:12). Though this pericope appears in Matthew 0niT, there is no reason to deny its authenticity, In his book on the synoptic Gospels, L. Vaganay insists several times that Matthew 19:10-12, along,, with several other passages, though appearing in one Gospel only, belongs to the oldest layer of the Gospel formation,~ .and to the most ancient tradition common to the three Synoptic Gospels.19 If the text figures in Matthew only, it is not because it was added afterwards to the~ final edition of Matthew: it is not a case of addition by Matthew but of omission by Marie and Luke. The pericope on the eunuchs has an archaic ring that would, have been shocking to Gentile ears. It is the kind of coarse Semitic paradox, frequent in the Bible, quite appealing to the rough peasants of Pal-estine accustomed to the loud and often brutal eloquence. 6f the prophets. It could hardly be exported to Greece or. even to Asia Minor, Syria., or Egypt. It is not surprising that Mark and Luke preferred to drop it. Yet "its very paradoxical aspect guarantees its authenticity.''20 More-over, the parallel text of Mark seems to leave traces of the amputation. In Mark 10:10, after the discussion with the Pharisees on matrimony, Jesus returns home together' with His disciples. There is a change of place and of audi-ence: Jesus is now in the intimate circle of His disciples. Usually when He retires together with them, it is to teach a deeper doctrine (Mk 4:10, 34; 7:17; 9:30; 10:32). One would expect here, "at home," further explanations on the views He has just exposed. Yet, according to Mark 10:10-12, Jesus merely repeats the elementary explana-tions ivhich, according to Matthew 19:9; 5:32 and Luke 16:18, He would as well give to the crowds. Does not this mean that in the source Mark used, there was "at home" some other deeper teaching imparted to the disciples? But l what other teaching was there except~the logion on the, 1~ L. Vaganay, Le probl~me synoptique ('rournai: Descl~e, 1954), pp.~167, 211, 216, and elsewhere. ~Ibid.,p. 167. iI eunuchs recorded by Matthew? Mark removed this saying, but the operation has left a scar in the text. If the pericope does belong to.th.e origins of the Gospel composition, there is no rea.soia to doubt that it was really an utterance of Jesus and this decides the question of its exact bearing. In the concrete context of jesus'ocelibate life, it is easy to find out to whom the third category of eunuchs refers. When the disciples heard that saying, they could~but think of Jesus Himself and possibly also of John the Baptist.!t is clear that Jesus here speaks of His own case and explains it. He does not advocate self-mutilation; He sets up His own example. He observed virginity and He did it con-sciously "in. view of God's Kingdom." John the Baptist had done it before Him; others would follow. Thus Jesus presents Himself as the leader~ in a line of men who; think-ing of God's Kingdom, will live like ~unuchs, giving-up the use of their sexual powers. But what is exactly the relation between virginity;and God's Kingdom? Why should one remain a celibate prop-ter regnum caelorura (in view of the Kingdom of God)? What is the precise value of that propter (dia ifi Greek)? In biblical Greek, dia with the accusative denotes causality or finality (out of, for the sake of, in view of). It is obvious that, in this'context, the meaning must be of finality. But this is still very vague, too vague to base on it an explana-tion of virginity. We can not build a theology on the strength of a preposition. If the preposition is vague, the phrase "Kingdom of Heaven," on the contrary, is clear enough. The 'Kingdom of.Heaven--or the Kingdom of God, since both phrases = This evidently settles the problem, discussed from the time of Origen onwards, of whether the saying should be understood in a realistic or in a symbolic sense. In Kittel's Theologisches Wb'rterbuch -urn Neuen Testament (TWNT), V. I, p. 590, Schmidt favors the ,ealistic interpretation: the saying would allude to people who ac-ually castrated themselves; it would invite the disciples not to imi-ate them but, at least, to reflect on their earnestness. Origen himself s a proof that there were such'cases in the early Church. But was it o during Jesus' own life time? It is rather doubtful and still more loubtful that Jesus would have set as an example this hypothetical berrant behavior. In the same TWNT of Kittel (2, p. 765), J. chneider maintains the traditional interpretation. The problem could be viewed also from the angle of Form Cdti- ,sin. What are the concrete circumstances in the life of the' ehrly ¯ hutch which led to a reminiscence of these words of-the" Master? 'Chat is the concrete problem to which they were given as an answer. t was most evidently the problem of the virgins, an acute problem as "e know from 1 Corinthians 7, and possibly also, together with it, he problem of the widows "who are truly widows" (1 Tim' 5:3; sde Cor 7: 8). According to J. Dupont, Mariag~ et divorce darts l'evangile ~ruges: Descl~e de Brouwer, 1959), the saying would refer to the case of husbands separated from their wives. This is a rather far- [etched $itz im Leben; moreover it overlooks completely the refer-ence to Jesus' own example. The Meaning Celibacy VOLUME 20, 196~. 341 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS haye the same significancem--appears as a key concept.of the ~synoptic Gospels. It.stands at the center of. Jesus' preaqhing. If not exactly in Judaism, at least in Jesus' mouth, it is ',a comprehensive term for the blessings of .salvation,''23 having practically .the same meaning as "the age to come" or "the life of the age to come2'~24 It is es-sentially an eschatglogical entity,. ,What the Jews had ~ !onged for,-the prophets had promised, and the apoca-lyptic writers had described, the new life coming from above, the new world, ~he new cov.enant imparted by God, t.h.e ~new Israel, the gift of ~he Sp'irit, Resurrection ,and Re,creation: it is all that.which is contained in God's Kingdom. ,Butmand th.i_s is the novelty of Jesus' teaching--with His coming, the eschatological world, the world to come has become present, though it remains unfulfilled. With the coming of Jesus the Kingdom of God offers the para-doxical character of being at the same time future and pre~ent. Jesus assures us that it is already present among us (Mr 12.:28; see Lk !2;21),but He also invites us to pray fpr~it.s coming (Mr 6:10). Exegetes have tried to rationalize ¯ this mystery by reduting Jesus' preaching to one or the other-aspect. The "co.nsequent eschatology" of A. Schweit-zer retaiged only the future aspect: the life-of Jesus was mere expectation of an imminent advent of the Kingdom,': expectation which was deceived by the event. On the con, ffary, the "realized eschatoIogy" of C. H. Dodd retains only the present element: with Jesus, the. Kingdom is .:presen~t and there is nothing ~to expect from the future; escha, to.logical elements should be dismissed as mere apoc- ~alyptical phraseology. Both views are only partial. Kiim-mel2~ and Cullmann,2n among others, have shown-that ihe integral' teaching of Christ combines both aspects. In Jesus the powers of the coming aeon are already active and the future Kingdom of God is already at work in the pres~' ent. The Spirit is given~ Yet He works only like a seed: present" in Jesus and in those who will follow Him, He has still to extend His influence to the whole world tillf His life-giving activity covers and trans,!orms the whole/ crea.t, ion. Such'is the meaning of,the parables ., of , the ¯ ~ "The Heaven" is a term used by the Jews as a' s u b s t i t uGtoed for to" a.yo.id, prgfiouncing the divine name. .m G. Dalman, The Words~o] Jesus (Edinburgh: T. and T. Clark, 1902), p.A35. Dalman shows thaLJesus somewhat altered the mean-ing of the phrase by giving .it a specifically eschatological value in connection with Daniel 7 : 27. So, though in Judaism the phrase should be translated "the kinship of God," it becomes, in Jesus' teachings, ~ynonymous with eschatological salvation. ~ Hence the equivalence with the Johannine theme of "eternal~ ~ ~ Pror~ise and Fulfilment (Naperville: Allenson, 1957). ~ Christ and Time (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1950). Kingdom" (Mk 4 and parallels). We are still waiting for the end: the period we live in is at the same time "promise and fulfilment." This appears especially in the "signs" of the Kingdom. Accgrding to the biblical conception, a "sign" is not a pure symbol, faint image of a distant reality. It is the reality itself in its initial manifestation. In the biblical sign the coming reality is already contained, yet still hidden.27 Kiimmel has shown how in that sense J.esus' .victory over the devils and his miracles are signs of that kind.2s They show already "the coming, consummation of salvation breaking in on the present.''2s Cullmann has added to those signs the main ecclesiastical functions: the missionary preaching of the Gospel,s0 the cult and the sacraments for, in them also, in the Spirit, and "through the merits of Christ, everything is fulfilled which was ac-complished in the past history of salvation and which will be achieved in the future.''~1 In the light of Matthew 19:12 we can add virginity to those signs. Like the miracles and the sacraments virginity is a "sign. of the Kingdom," an anticipated realization of the final transformation, the glory of the world to come breaking in on the present condition. Such is the meaning of propter regnum caelorum. Jesus and many of those who follow Him refrain from sexu~al activity "in view of the Kingdom," that i~, to live already now the life of the world to come. Eschatological life has begun to stir in them and that life will be, and can already be now, a: life which has gone beyond the necessity and the urge of pro-creation. As with their preaching and miracles, Jesus and His "disciples by their celibacy proclaim the advent of the Kingdom, They exemplify already i.n_this world the fu-ture condition of men in the next aeon. As Jesus explained to the Sadducees (Mt 22:30 and parallels), in the world of Resurrection, "one shall neither marry nor be married, one will be like the angels in heaven." This does not mean that man in the Kingdom of God will be asexual, losing his human nature to become a pure spirit in the philosophical sense of the term. Such a philosophical consideration would be quite alien to the biblical mentality. Man was not made as a pure spirit neither in this world nor in the other, and consequently celibacy can not consist in trying to ape the angels. St. Luke explains the exact meaning of this analogy between the risen man and the angels in his rendering of the ~See J. Pedersen, Israel its Li[e and Culture (London: Oxford University Press, 1926), V. 1, pp. 168 ft. ~ Op. cit. (note 25), pp. 105-91. ~ Ibid., p. 121. ® O. Cullmann, Christ and Time. ~ O. Cullmann, Early Christian Worship (Chicago: Regnery, 1955i, p. $5. ÷ The Meaning ~elib~y VOLUME 20, 1961 343 4. L. Legrand REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 344 logion: "They shall neither marrynor be married for they are no more liable to die: for they are equal to the angels and they are sons of God, being sons of Resu~rrection'' (Lk 20: 35-36). The point of resemblance with the angels is not their spiritual nature but their immortality. It is account of his immortality that the risen man need no longer procreate. Life of Resurrection is no more a life "in the flesh," in a body doomed to death. It is a life God, a life of a son of God, life "in the Spirit," in a body transformed by the divine Glory. Hence the functions' the flesh become useless: procreation loses its meaning which was to make up for the ravages of death. The celibate shows by his cofidition that such life has already started. His celibacy testifies to what O. Cullmann has called "the prol~ptic deliverance of the body.''~2 proclaims that, in'Christ, despite the appearances, man escapes the clutches of death and lives in the Spirit. A passage of the Apocalypse echoes that teaching. Apoc-alypse 14:1-5 describes the glory of the Lamb in the heavenly Sion. There His throne is surrounded'by a hun-dred and forty-four thougand men, 'all those who "were redeemed from the earth." They represent the perfect number of all those who, saved by the Lamb, will con-stitute His retinue in the world to come; namely, all the elect. Their main characteristic consists in that "they are virgins" (v '~). Virginity must be understood metaphoric-ally: it means primarily fidelity to God by opposition idolatry, often described in Scripture as a "prostitution." Yet considering the realistic value of Hebrew symbolism, the concrete sense of virginity should not be altogether dismissed: "They have not defiled themselves with women" (v 4).~3 This does not mean that the author would make of virginity a necessary condition for entering the Kingdom. This passage must be understood in parallel-ism with Chapter 7, which also describes a hundred and forty-four thousand men leading an innumerable multi-tude which surrounds the throne of the Lamb. While Chapter 14 they are all virgins, in Chapter 7 they are all martyrs. This should not be understood as meaning only martyrdom can lead to salvation. But it does mean that one has no access to the Kingdom unless "he washes his =O. Cullmann, The Early Church (London: S.C.M., 1956), pp. 165-76. In his article CuIlmann does not extend his conclusions to the question 0f celibacy. He shows only that marriage has a special theological value since it "corresponds to the relation between Christ and His Church" (p. 173; see Eph 5:29). This view is quite true but should be completed by an awareness that the love between Christ and the Church is of an eschatological--hence virginal--type, The Spouse is a Virgin (see 2 Cot 11:2). Similarly, even conjugal love will have eventually to turn into the-eschatological virginal agape o! which celibacy is a prophetical type. = See L. Cerfaux and J~ Cambier, L',~pocalypse de saint Jean lue aux Chr~tiens (Paris: Cerf, 1955), pp. 124 ft. robe and makes himself white in the blood of the Lamb" (Ap 7:14). The martyr is the typical Christian for he shares the most closely in the cross of his Master. One cim not be a Christian unless he shares in.some way in the fate of the martyrs, in the cross of Christ: The same interpretatiori can be extended to the fourteenth chapter. "As martyrdom, virginity is eminently representative of Christian life. Even as' one can not be saved~without participating in the dignity of martyrdom, one can not be saved without participating in the dignity of .virginity. Virginit~y is a heavenly perfection, an anticipation, for those who are called to it, of what will be the final destiny of all in the Kingdom of Heaven.TM In the world to come all are virgins~ Even those who are married must keep their eyes on that ideal and know that their love has to turn into virginal charity. Those who remain celibate "in view of the Kingdom of Heaven" be!ong to the virginal retinue of their heavenly King the Lamb. As St. Gregory of Nyssa says: Virginal life is an image of the happi~aess that will obtain in the world to come; for it contains in itself many signs of the good things which in hope are laid before us . For when one brings in himself the life according to the flesh to an end, as far as it depends on him, he can expect "the blessed hope and the comin.g 9f the great God,;' curtailing the interval of the in-tervenlng generations between himself and God s advent. Then he can enjoy in the present life the choicest of the good things afforded by the Resurrection.= Thus the mystery of virginity, as any mystery of Chris-tian life, has a double aspect. It has a negative aspect: it represents the death of Christ and, through it, looks towards the complement of that death, the end of a!l, the apocalyptic consummation. It has also a positive aspect: it shows forth the new life in the Spirit, initiated by the Resurrection ofChrist, to be fulfilled at the Parousia. This doctrine is best embodied in the Lukan account of the virgin birth of Christ. Mary is a virgin (Lk 1:34) and, in her virginity, through the operation of the Spirit, she gave birth to Christ, the "first born" of the new world. Thus, in her virginal fecundity, she anticipated and even originated the re-creation of the world through the Spirit. In that account it must be first noticed that Luke-- and Mary--following the Hebrew mentality, do not extol virginity for its own sake. In the Magnificat Mary describes her condition of virgin as a condition of humilitas; that is, a low condition (Lk 1:48). This was exactly the term used by Anna in 1 Samuel 1 : 11 to qualify her disgrace of having ~' Ibid., p. 125. ~ De virginitate (Patrologia graeca, 46, col. 381 ft.). The theme of celibacy as heavenly life or angelic life is frequent in patristic litera-ture. See L. Bouyer, The Meaning o] Monastic LiIe (New York: Kenedy, 1955), pp. 23-40. ÷ ÷ ÷ The Meaning Celibacy voLUME 20, 1961 4- 4- 4- no child. In fact the whole narrative of the virgin birth of Christ in Luke is built in parallelism with the narratives of the Old Testament d.escribing how sterile women were made miraculously fecund by God.36 To some extent.Luke puts Mary's virginity on a par with the sterility of those women. By remaininga virgin, Mary shares in the wretch-edness of Jephte's daughter, in the abjection of the poor women who had no child (Gen 16:4; 1 Sam 1:1~16; Lk 1:25). She accepted willingly the utter poverty and the op-probrium of those who had no hope of reaching, in motherhood, their human plenitude and who conse, quently were rejected by the world as useless. But in the new Kingdom by God's transforming power, there is a reversal of the human values, The lowly are ex-alted (Lk 1:52), the poor possess the earth (Lk 6:20), those who weep laugh (Lk 6:21), the sterile and the virgins are visited by the power of the Spirit and become receptacles of the divine life. These are simply various aspects of the revolution of the cross turning infamy into glory, death into life. The glorious fecundity of Mary's humble vir-ginity contains already the mystery of the gross. Thelhope, lessness of her virginity points to the hopelessness of the cross: it proclaims, that the world is doomed and that no salvation is to be expected from the flesh. But the fecundity of that virginity presages the triumph of the cross: by the power of the Holy Ghost life will spring from death as it had sprung from the closed womb of a virgin. Thus Mary's virginity announces the disappearance of the world of flesh and the rise of a new world of the Spirit. Jeremiah's celi-bacy had prophesied the first part of the mystery. To Mary it~was given to see the fulfillment and to prophesy, in her life, both aspects of the imminent consummation. Mary's Virginity was prophetical: it turned towards the cross and anticipated the end; it ina~ugurated the~new worldwhere the flesh has no power, for that world knows no other fecundity than the fecundity of the Spirit. The charism oPvirgiriity in the Church continues and com-pletes that prophetical fUnction. Like Mary and Jesus, the Christian celibate renounces any worldly hope," for he knows th~it the world has no hope to propose. But, in his loneliness, he announces and through faith already en-joys the esc, fiato~logical visitation of the Spirit. ' u See S. Lyonhet, "Le r~cit de l'Annonciation," in L'ami du Clergd, 66 (1956), pp; 37-8, and J. P. Audet, "L'annonce h Marie," in Revue biblique 63 (1956), pp. 346-74. REVIEW FOR .RELIGIOUS BARRY MCLAUGHLIN, ~s.J. The Identity Crisis and , Religious Life We often hear it said that the child stabilizes the family. After the first four or five years of marriage the love of the honeymoon is usually exhausted: A new love unfolds. Ideally, it is the affection both parents share for the child that forms the basis for this newmand more maturebond of conjugal love. Perhaps a similar phenomenonJ occurs in religious life. After the first four or five years (or even much later sin~e circumstances and persons differ) a process of reintegra-tion takes place. The religious must re-examine and re-interpret his initial motives and goals. CA newer,° fresher love must supplant the older, faded love. And because ~he natural aids which married life affords are lacking', this transformation to a higher and more perfect love requires supernatural grace and natural maturity. There is no dichotomy here; rather, there is an inter-action. Since God has Himself implanted laws in nature, it is logical to suppose that He will follow the natural patterns operative in the human personality when He works through grace. And grace is, of course, necessary for any form of spiritual development. Yet it is imperative to emphhsize the Scholagtie'axiom that grace builds upon nature. Maturity, on the natural plane, is a prime requisite for supernatural progress and for this transformation of love. To hone Occam's raz6r to a new edge: miracles are not to be multiplied withofit necessity. Like sanctity, maturity develops slowly. For a mah is not born a saint. He is born to be a saint. The distinction is significant: men are not saints all at once; with God's grace men become saints. But-men first'become mature. Maturity, as the natural correlate and predisposition for sanctity, takes time. Psychologists point to a series of crises preliminary to its attainment. " We are especially interested in the "crisis of idehtity" ÷ ÷ ÷ Barry $. McLaughlin, S.J., 3700 W. Pine Bou-levard, St, Louis 8, Mis-souri, is doing graduate studies in psychology at St, ~'~Uis ~Jniversity. VOLUME 20~ 1961 347 the crisis contemporary With the process of re-integration and re-evaluation which occurs once the novelty and freshness of the early years of religious life have disap-peared. Resolution of the identity crisis allows a more mature and transformed love to unfold. But several more basic crises must b~ resolved first. ÷ ÷ ÷ Barry M cLaughlin, S.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 348 Development Toward Maturity One of the most widely used theoretical conceptions of psychological development.is the neo-Freudian synthesis proposed by Erik H. Erikson. At a given age, because of physical, intellectual, and emotional maturation, a human being willingly and necessarily faces a new life task. A Set of choices and tests are prescribed for him by his ciety's structure. This new life task presents a crisis. The outcome of this crisis can be successful graduation or im-pairment of the life cycle (which will aggravate future crises). Each crisis prepares for the next--each is a step taken in the direction of the ne~t, until the adult identity is attained. The first crisis is the one of early infancy. What is at stake here, the psychologist feels, is the question of whether a man's inner mood will be determined more by basic trust or basic mistrust. The outcome of this crisis is de-pendent largely upon the quality of maternal care. The mother's affection and her gratification of the child's needs lend a certain pr~edictability and hopefulness in spite of the urgency and bewildering nature of the baby's bodily feelings. This first crisis corresponds roughly to what Freud has described as orality; the second to anality. An awareness of these correspondences is essential for a true understand- ]ng-of the dynamics involved. The second crisis, resolved usually by the fourth year, develops the infantile sources of the sense of autonomy. In this period the child learns to ,~iew himself as an indi-vidual in his own right, apart from his parents although dependent upon them. If there are conditions which in-terfere with the child's achievement of a feeling of ade-quacyv- if he fails, for example, to learn to walk during this ~period--then the alternative is a sense of shame or doubt pervading later adult consciousness (or uncon-sciousness). The third crisis is a part of what Freud described as the central complex of the family; namely, the Oedipus com-plex. According to the opinion of many psychoanalysts, this crisis involves the lasting unconscious association of sensual freedom with the body of the mother; a lasting association of cruel prohibition with the interference of the father; and the consequent love and hate in reality and in phantasy. This is the stage of.initiative; correspond- ing to Freud's phallic stage of psychosexuality. It is the period of vigorous reality testing, imagination, and imi-tation of adult behavior. The major hazard to the solution of this crisis is an overly strict discipline which produces a threatening conscience and flae internalization of rigid and exaggerated (non-rational) ethical attitudes. In the fourth stage the child, now between six and eleven years old, becomes capable of learning intellectually and collaborating with others. The resolution of this stage decides much of the ratio~between, a. sense of in-dustry and a sense of tool-inferiority. A man learns simple techniques which will prepare him for the tasks of his culture. A. rational sense of duty and obligation is also involved here, and the laying aside of fantasy and play for the undertaking of real tasks and the development academic and social competefice. This stage corresponds to the.Freudian latency period. The Identity Crisi~ We are chiefly concerned inthis ~rticle with the identity crisis, first of~all in its broader, cultural dimensions, and then within the specific framework of the religious life. The young~adolescent in our culture must~clarify his understanding of who he is and what his role is to be. He must forge for himself some central perspective and direc-tion, some effective integration, ou_t :of the remnants of his childhood and the hopes of his anticipated adulthood. Failure to resolve this crisis can result in neurosi~s,-psy-chosis, or delinquent behavior. More frequently,, however, there is a generalized sense of role diffusion. The possession of a role within the culture and,of standards of cultural living constitutes the social side of identity. In addition, there is an optimum ego synthesis to which the. individual himself aspires. The Judeo-Chris-dan tradition and the ideals of the American heritage stress the immeasurable worth of _the individual person. The dignity of the individual, respect for the individual, self-det~rmination these are phrases which attest to our consciousness of the value of personal identity. Each per-son is certain of what is in fact true: that he stands at the center of a unique network of relationships, experiences, influences. He is different and he knows it. Consciousness of the value.of personal identity and a strong sense of personal uniqueness do not,. ho.wever, neces-sarily imply a resolution of the crisis of identity. In some young people, in some classes, at certain periods of history, the identity crisis will be minimal; in other people, classes, and periods this crisis will be clearly marked off as a criti-cal period. There is considerable evidence that in our cul-ture today the identity crisis is of maximal importance, that most individuals undergo a prolonged identity crisis. ÷ ÷ ÷ Identity Crisis VOLUME 20, 1961 349 ÷ 4. 4. Barry McLaughlin, $.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 350 During this crisis there is a desperate urgency, often con-cealed under the camouflage of social conventions, to resolve the problem of what one should' believe0in and who one should be or become. Three crises follow the crisis of identity; they concern problems of intimacy, generativity, and integrity. What role diffusion is~to identity, its alternative and danger, isolation is to intimacy, egocentric nonproductivity is to generativity, and the lack of consistent values is to integ-rity. When~ the identity crisis is prolonged, these three crises are interwoven with it. The resolution of the identity crisis brings concomitantly the resolution of intimacy, gen-erativity, and integrity crises: A lasting sense of ego identity is the characteristic of the mature adult. The Identity Crisis in the American Culture Victor Frankl, one of the leading .proponents of Ex-istential psychology, has pointed out that Freudian psy-choanalysis has introduced into psych.ological research what it calls the pleasure principle or the will-to-pleasure. Adler has' made psychologists conversant with the role of the will-to-power as a main factor in the formation of neurosis. But Frankl maintains that man is neither dominated by the will-to-pleasure nor by the will-to-power, but by What he'would call man's will-to-meaning; that is, man's deep-seated striving for a higher and~ultimate mean-ing to his existence. Frankl .has perhaps overstated his case; it is more likely a question of emphasis. But the will-to-meaning does re-flect the modern concern with personal identity and, in this sense, is probably as strategic in our time as the study of sexuality was in Freud's time or the study of the drive" for power in Adler~s time. , It is signific~int,-too, that concern with matters of identity is greatest in this country. Psychologists and psychoanalysts recognize th~at in America especially adult patients hope to find in the psychoanalytic system a refuge from the discontinuities 6f existence and a re-gression to a more patriarchal one-to-one system. America has been a melting-pot, a country which attempts to make a super-identity otit of the' identities imported by its constituent immigrants. Previous agrarian and patri-cian identities have been" submerged in the wake of the rapidly increasing ,mdchanization of industrial technology. Frequently the American man has been unable to formu-late his new identity. Depreciation-of.the American way of life is, of course, the favorite indoor sport of cultural critics. The per-tinence of their remarks is not always apparent,.yet in the present context several criticisms'are relevanf. They point out some Of the reasons for the identity crises of con- temporary Americans. From these criticisms we can gain some understanding of the identity crisis of the American man and ultimately of the identity crisis of the (American) religious man. In Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman, Biff'exempli-ties an American "type." Society 'has failed to provide him with a clearly defined role: "I just can't take hold, Mom, I just can't take hold of some kind of life.''1 He-lives in constant frustration, unaware of who he.is or what he is to be. And many psychoanalysts feel thatBiff's number is legion. That Biff should address his problems to Morn is sig-nificant, During World War II the expression "Momism' came :into existence :as a means of denoting a type of per- _~onality commonly :encountered in ybung men. There is ¯ n excessive dependence upon and 'attachment' to, the ,nother, with but feeble' attachment to:the father and no =lear image gained through him of man's role. Psychol-ogists have commented upon the probable roots of this phenomenon: the absence, both physically and psycho: logically, of the father from many American urban, and .uburban homes. Because of the conditions of .ecdnomic ~nd social life, many fathers have neither the opportunity qor the inclination to "take on" their sons in the way that a, as common, for example, in the days of the older patri-archal society. This is the first cause we wish to mention "or the prolongation of the crisis of identity: . the failhre ~,f the father in our culture to give to the son a clear image ,f the masculine personality and the role of man. ~ :~ 'Critics have also noted the American fear of loneliness. Individual identity is sacrificed in an effort to stay. close o the herd, to be no ~different from others in" thought, eeling, or action. To stand aside, to be alone, is t6 assert ¯ personal identity which refuses to be submerged. So-iety will not tolerate this; innumerable social features are lesigned to prevent it: stadiums to accommodate~thou-ands at sport events, open doors of private rooms and of- ¯ ces, club cars on trains, shared bedrooms ih colleges and ,oarding houses, countless clubs, organizations; associa-ions, societies, canned music (for gilence~is unbearable) ,iped~into hotel rooms, railway cars, and supermarkets. Yet one of the surest signs of the resolutio~ of' the iden-ity crisis is an increased capacity for .being alqne, for ~eing responsible for oneself.~The gradual process that ¯ ill end in perfect identity involves 'an awareness of he'fact that there are decisions in life and aspects of life's truggle tha~t a l~erson mu~t fa~e alone. ~o Fgr~. a~ young person becomes dearer in his own mind ,f his role in society and of his personal identity he is a In J6hn Gassner (ed.), Best American Plays: Third Series, 1945- 951 (New York: Crown, 1952), p. 19. Identity, ~risis~ VOLUME 20~ 196~. 4. 4., 4. Barr~ MeLaughlin, $.L REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 352 likely also to become more aware of how he differs from others. Gradually he becomes conscious of his isolation from others, not because others are pulling away but be-cause the fullness of personal identity cannot be achieved without.some degree of aloneness. Here we have a para-dox: the more richly a person lives, the more lonely, in a sense, he becomes. And as a person, in his isolation, .be-comes more able to appreciate the moods and feelings of others, he also becomes more able to have meaningful relationships with them. But the unwritten code of our national culture pro-hibits aloneness, and this is the second causative factor for a prolonged identity crisis: the obstacles our society im-poses to the cultivation'of a sense of personal identity. Finally, we see what the critics refer to as the "deper-sonalization" of man by the mass media. "Man is losing himself," Emmanuel Mounier wrote, "in his handiwork instead ~of losing himself in his consciousness; he has not been liberated.''2 There is much that could be said about these factors and their deleterious effects upon a sense of individual identity; but much has already been said by the critics, What is of primary interest here is that mass media standardize thought by supplying the spectator ~ith a ready-made visual image before he has time to construct a rational interpretation of his own. Man has come to'ac-cept ideas and attitudes without having submitted these to himself for intellectual decision. Man is so much a part of the verbal noise going on around him that he does~not notice what the noise is conveying to him. There are, of course, many other causative factors contributing to our national and individual identity crises Millions of young people face these and other psychologi-cal and social obstacles to identity and transcend them in one way or another. If not, they live, as Captain Ahab says, with half their heart and with only oneof their lungs, and the world is the worse for it, The Identity Crisis in the Religious Life The religious man--and by this is meant the man pos~ sessing a fundamentally God-oriented personalitydis of course, immune from cultural influences. Yet as Erikso observes in his book on Luther,., He is always older, or in early years suddenly becomes older than his pla.ymates or even his parents and teachers, and focuses in a precocious way on what it takes others a lifetime to gain a mere inkling of: the question of how to escape corruption i living and how in death to give meaning to life. Because he e periences a breakthrough to the last problems so early in hit life maybe such a man had better become a martyr and seal his message with an early death; or else become a hermit in a soil ="A Dialogue with Communism," Cross Currents, v. $ (195~ p. 127. i! tude which anticipates the Beyond. We know little of Jesus of Nazareth as a young man, but we certainly cannot even begin to imagine him as middle-aged? This short cut between the youthful crisis of identity and the mature one of integrity makes the religious man's problem acutely intense. In addition, the method of "indoctrination" to which he subjects himself aims at sys-tematically descending to the .frontiers where all ego dan-gers must be faced in the raw, where personal guilt is un-covered, drives tamed by prayer and asceticism, and where, ultimately, self must abandon and transform its own identity. In a sense, only "religious geniuses''4 are cgpable of such an enterprise. Yet the man or woman who enters religious life specifically chooses to face this challenge. Per-haps the most important ramification of the life of the vows is the consequent necessity of mature personal iden-tity. There are those, however, who consider it dangerous, unreasonable, and even in a sense against nature, to com-mit a young person in perpetuity to the religious life. Martin Luther became convinced that religious commit-ment was impossible to a man under thirty years of age. A young man of twenty does not know what th~ future may have in store, what sacrifices he may have to accept. He has only a very general view of what religious life will be and his final renunciation can only be made when he knows in detail and as a whole what such a life entails. Yet St. Thomas held that a person could decide upon a religious vocation years be~fore puberty. This poses a problem which involves more than a ques-tion of the religious vocation. It is concerned 'with one of the fundamental aspects of the problem of life. The ma-ture man is future-oriented; for him life is a continuous whole. In his youth he finds that he must commit him-self to an identity, to a course to which he will remain bound in the future. His acts are weighted with the future. If a man refuses to commit himself, identity becomes im-possible. Marriage and the religious vocation are the two funda-mental forms of commitment. When a man marries he is unaware of the trials and responsibilities'of marriage; he does not know what it is to have a dependent wife and children. But the will to do that which is irrevocable de-pends on the strength of a person's love. A love which is genuine takes possession of the whole of the personality. Then it desires to be irrevocable. This notion of commitment is most perfectly delineated in the thought of Gabriel Marcel: I see it like this. In the end there must be an absolute com- " The Young Man Luther (New York: Norton, 1958), p. 261. 'Jean Dani~lou, s.J., God and the Ways o] Knowing (New York: Meridian Books, 1957), p. 10. ÷ ÷ ÷ VOLUME 20, 1961 ÷ ÷ ÷ Barry MeLaugh!in, $.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 354 mitment, entered upon by the whole of myself, or at least by something real in myself which could not be repudiated with-out repudiation of the whole--and which would be addressed to the whole of Being and would be made in the presence of that whole. This is faith. ObViously, repudiation is still a possibility .here, but ,cannot be justified by a change in the subject or object; ~t can only be explained by a fall? This notion, of personal commitment leaves little room for the so-called "temporary vocation" (which is actually a contradiction in terms), even when this is understood as an actor the permissive will of God which allows a person, for his sanctification, to live for some time as a religious and with religious vows. Although a person does grow and develop as he lives out his commitment, although his in-itial love deepens into a more perfect and more mature love, there can be no possibility of a repudiation. This would be a denim of identity and is only explained by a "fall." These are strong words, and are not, of course, meant to be dogmatic. The nature and binding force of a religious commitment such as life with vows requires much more adequate theological analysis. Yet the problem remains. The religious man must be mature before, his time. Ultimately it is a question of the initial acquisition of what Lindworsky calls the "'voca-tional ideal": Before every man there stands~ a picture of that which he should become; and never will he be fully at peace, undl the ideal shown in that picture has been brought to perfect rgaliza-tion. G This provides a focal' point for personal identity within the religious vocation. Perfect identity is not something acquired in its fullness all at once. It comes at the termina-tion of a long and gradual process of growth. Each step along the way presents new difficulties and necessitates closer scrutiny and deeper meditation upon the nature of the identity chosen. There must be a gradual transforma-tion and identification with Christ. ¯The vocational ideal guides the individual to this new identity within the confines of a life of the vows. Gradu-ally the significance of each vow becombs apparent. Each involves a secondary crisis of its own, a danger to personal identity. Once each of these crises are faced and resglved perfect identity is realized. By his vow of poverty the religious man is thrust once more--thi~ time on a much more conscious and more spiritual level--into the primary crisis of trust. In a real (though qualified) sense, religious experience, as Erikson points out, retraces our earliest inner experiences, giving ~ Being and Having (Glasgow: University Press, 1949), pp. 45-46. o Johannes Lindworsky, S.J., The Psychology o! Asceticism (West-minster: Newman, 1950), p. 15. angible form to vague evils and reaching back to the .~arliest moments of childhood. The child must learn to rust his mother; the religious man ~must learn 'to rust God. Only then can he venture out into the.apparent cold which lack of possessiong m~ans to his natural un- ]erstanding and to his provident instincts. Otherwise he "alls into a new and much worse predicament. When a nan has adopted poverty, he will take daily action to keep dive his trust in God; and from the constantly reiterated :onfirmation ~of this t~'ust, he will draw nourishment "or ~his love of God. Voluntary poverty is an attempt to live so strongly upon he inner surge of love for Christ that external supports :an be reduced to a minimum. It is an attempt to be as ~nuch as possible. It is an incentive for a man to restore ~rder of the right kind to his own life and in his relations o God and his fellows. To he more a man and more truly ~ man, as completely and perfectly a man as~possible~: hat is the purpose of the yow of poverty. Failure to achieve uch an identity is its danger. .Chastity also entails a crisis. Th~ religious community "isks becoming an assembly of old bachelors or old maids, whose egoism is concealed beneath a facade of renunci-ation. The mainstay of the family is conjugal love and the ove between the parents and their children. In tl~e re-igious life it is God alone who is the bond, and the corn-non life cannot be sanctified except insofar as the person, ~y loving God, passes beyond its natural aspects.-The ring of mortification is always there because the affections :stablished between members of a community do not form hat personal link which is characteristic of the family. The religious man finds affection, but this is on a piritual plane, leaving certain sides ofthe human per-onality unsatisfied. Men do not go to religious life to ind what they normally find in the family. There is friend-hip, but basically a religious man's life is in God, and n,God one is alone. Fundamental solitude: God is the ~ortion of his inheritance. Psychologically, this involves a sublimation of the nost radical type, yet Freud himself admitted its possi-bility and its actual fulfillment in St. Francis of Assisi nd others. A new and different identity must be forged. In order to arrive at being everything, desire to be noth-ng," wrote St. John of the CrossF This crisis involves, ~asically, final surrender of self-identity and union and bs0rption into the identity of Christ. The vow of ob'edience entails an equally radical crisis. Fhe religious man's identity threatens to be submerged. The Ascent of Mount Carmel, 1, 13, I1 in E. A. Peers (ed. and rans.), The Complete Work o] St. John o] the Cross (Westminster: ~ewman, 1953), v. 1, p. 62. Identity Crisis VOLUME 20,~ 1961 355 4. 4. Barry McLaughlin, $.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 356 Existentialist literature especially makes this point: "W~ want freedom for freedom's sake and in every particula circumstance," writes Sartre. "Those who hide their com plete freedom from themselves out of a spirit of serious ness, I shall call cowards.''s Self-identity seems impossibh without the freedom to choose, to determine one's owt conduct and profit or suffer by the consequences. This i a notion rooted in contemporary American Protestan ideals. So much so ttiat William James admitted: It is difficult even imaginatively to comprehend how men po~, sessed of an inner life of their own could ever have come t think the subjection of its will to that of other finite creature recommendable. I confess that to myself it seems something o a mystery? There is a paradox here. When'the religious ma empties himself of his own will (not to other finite crea tures, of course, but to God), at that moment the whol world enters in to fill the vacant space. The saint has n~ particular desires. He seeks only to be allowed to disap pear. He reveals the world to mankind as God has willet it. Yet more than any other man, the saint is responsible He is aware of his obligation to choose for himself. Th terrible duty of the saint is the duty to choose consistentl the "chOice of God. There is one other aspect to the identity crisis in re ligious life, the professional aspect. There are two side to the identity crisis: achievement of personal identity an~ of social identity. We have discussed in some detail th religious man's growth in personal identity. There is als the social role of religious men and women in Americ today, the role of teacher and scholar. Much has been wrftten and much said about the pligh of the American Catholic educational endeavor. We ar concerned here with but one facet of these discussions the undeniable need of Catholic educators to dedicat themselves completely to the subjects they teach. Thi dedication must mean a commitment of the sort which in volves the individual completely in the field he is intel ested in, so much so that he is eager and enthusiastic to se and to contribute to its progress. And since there is fi way to dedicate oneself to learning from the outside, th individual must devote himself totally to his field. A b] stander is too uncommitted. As Father Ong has observed If there is anything that our American Catholic education suffel from, it is the fact that too many of us are not committed enoug to the subjects we profess, not dedicated to them with that tot~ ~Jean-Paul Sartre, Existentialism (New York: Philosophical brary, 1947), pp. 54--55. ~ The Varieties o! Religious Experience (New York: Longma Green, 1909), p. 311. :~ edicati~n which, for us, should be part of our religious dedica- ~on of God Himself, who makes human knowledge to advance.10 It would seem that many religious men and women, who ,ave to a great extent resolved aflm~i~rably the problems of ,ersonal vocational identity, have not resolved the prob-ems of social identity, have not seen clearly their own role s teachers and scholars. Perhaps the opposite is 6ften true, ,ut in either case it is apparent that there is need "for a uccessful resolution of the identity crisis on both levels nd for an integration at an even higher level. ",6nclusion The gyeatness of man consists in his origin, his nobility s a creature, as a child of God. But more than this: there s also his vocation; man is called upon to co-operate with he divine liberty in the creation of his own identity. This nvolves a process of what Dietrich Von Hildebrand calls 'confronting all things with Christ.''n The saint alone ,as solved the identi.ty crisis perfectly. He has transformed fis self-identity into the identity of Christ. Each saint s a pane of glass of a different color through which Christ's adiance shines. But we all are called to be saints. And if maturity is a ,rerequisite to sanctity, the resolution, with grace, of cer-ain psychological crises is necessary. Above all the reso-ution of the identity crisis, usually concomitant with the ,rocess of re-examination and re-evaluation which occurs ,nce the novelty of the early years of religious life has ,assed, prepares the way to sanctity. Each religious, like he saint, must deepen and transform his love. There is a continuity in life which the saint makes nanifest. The child persists in the man; the mature adult ,as grown out of" childhood without losing childhood's ,est traits. He retains the basic emotional strengths and he stubborn autonomy of the infant, the capacity for onder and pleasure and playfulness of the preschool ears, the capacity for affiliation and the intellectual curi- ,sity of the school years, and the idealism and passion of dolescence. He has incorporated these into a new pattern ;ominated by adult stability, wisdom, knowledge, re-ponsibility, strength, and prudence. The saint is not a man apart from, and outside of, the ;retchedness of everyday life. He is not a man in corn- ,union with God and out of communion with other men. ~ecause he lives in close contact with God, because he has onformed his mind to the mind of Christ, the saint is the ~Walter Ong, S.J., American Catholic Crossroads (New York: ¯ *acmillan, 1959), pp. 104-05. n Translormation in Christ (New York: Longmans, Green, 1948), ¯ 74. VOLUME 20, 1961 357 one man who is in communion with us, while all other live apart. This is why the saint is the per[ectly mature individual at once the most sensitive and the most spiritual o[ men The most sensitive because nothing and no one in world finds him unresponsive, since he is always in mediate and loving contact with persons and things. He the most spiritual o[ men, ~or every movement o[ his sonality has its origin in the realization that Christ measure o[ all things, the source o[ his own identity. embodies per[ectly the words of St. Paul: "So we shal reach per[ect manhood, that maturity which is propor ¯ tioned to the complete growth of Christ" (Eph 4:13). Barr~ McLaughlin, $.l. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 358 ROBERT F. WEISS, S.J. The Christ of the Apocalypse Toward the end of his long life in the closing years of the first century, our Lord's beloved disciple, the apostle St. John, penned from his place of exile on the island of Patmos a beautiful message of hope and encouragement for the Christian churches. The style: 0f this letter, the last book of the Bible, is apocalyptic; that is, it deals with the revelation made to John of things present and pastas well as future. Its theme 'is the ,triumph of Christ. In images of surpassing beauty, St. John describes for all ages the glorious King of kings. Although it is the same Christ of the Gospels whom we meet here, a great change has come over Him. He is still "like unto a son of man," but He no longer has the weaknesses and limitationS of His humanity. We will see Him in settings of majesty, power, and triumph--all of which are meant to stir up hope, love, and courage for the struggle ahead, for the difficulties and persecutions the Church must always suffer. He has already conquered. This is Christ as He is now, and yet His victory is being constantly repeated. The message is, therefore, one of personal concern for all Christians of every .age. "Blessed be the man who reads this prophecy," says John, "and those who hear it read and heed what is written in it, for the time is near." For each one of us the battle is now raging, and the end of our own struggle is approaching. Christ conquered sin and death long ago; but as long as this world lasts, the conflict goes on. Not until the last day will Ghrist:s triumph be final and complete. But for us, each individual, the time is near and Christ is coming soon. John begins his epistle in a Trinitarian setting, using a salutation much like Paul's as he wishes peace and blessing to the seven churches in Asia from "Him who is and was and is coming"--the Father--"and from the seven spirits befOre His throne"--the Holy Spirit represented by His Robert F. Weiss, S.J., is a faculty member of St. Louis University, 221 North Grand Boule-vard, St. Louis 3, Mis-souri. VOLUME 20, 1961 359 + 4. 4. Rober~ F. Wei~s~ SJ. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 360 sevenfold gifts--and "from Jesus Christ." The full title, Jesus Christ, used here in connection with the other per-sons of the Blessed Trinity, is not used again until the very last verse in the letter. John seems to prefer Jesus alone, in this way emphasizing the humanity of the glorious Christ and His identity with the historical person who lived and suffered. Christ alone as a title occurs only four times. All of these are in the last half of the book in settings of solemnity and majesty and in close association with name of God. John's favorite title for Christ is, as will later, the Lamb, although he also .uses Son of God and Son of Man. The apostle's cast of mind is revealed by the prayer Of praise he offers to Christ at the outset--"to Him who loves us and has released us from our sins." This Christ "has made us a kingdom of priests for His God and Father." Just as Israel when set free from Egypt acquired a national life under its divinely appointed king, so Church, redeemed by the Blood of Christ, makes up a holy nation. As kings, the faithful of Christ will reign all the peoples; as priests, united to Christ the Priest, they will offer to God the Whole universe in a sacrifice of praise. In his magnificent opening vision, John sees the glorified and idealized human form of Christ: a being like a man, wearing a long robe, with a gold belt around his breast. His head and hair were as white as white wool, as white as snow; his eyes blazed like fire; his feet were like bronze, refined in a furnace, and his voice was like the noise of mighty waters. In his right hand he held seven stars; from his mouth came a sharp double-edged sword, and his face shone like the sun at noonday. The garments are the first object to catch John's attention. The figure wears a long robe of the priesthood and girded with the belt of royalty. His snow white hair His eternity, and His eyes blazing like fire repre-sent His divine knowledge. Feet glowing like bronze furnace symbolize His power and utter stability. His voice, which is compared to the thundering rush of a waterfall, and His face, shining like the noonday sun, which recalls the glorious transfiguration on Mount Tabor, give Him a majesty that is terrifying. In His right hand are seven stars representing the seven churches over which He has power and care. It was among seven lampstands that this figure had appeared; they are likewise churches and signify His omnipresence. From His mouth comes the sharp two-edged sword of the word of God which has power to condemn or reward. This is He who is "coming on the clouds, and every eye will see Him, even the men who pierced Him." John is so overawed by the sight that he falls at the feet of Christ like a dead man. But our Lord lays His hand him and tells him not to be afraid. For He is the first and tlie last, that is, the Creator and the last end of all things. He is the Living One, an idea prominent in the tliinking of the Hebrews. Theirs is a living God, not the dead idols of their pagan neighbors. Chi'ist ~a~ defid, crudi~ed; yet here He is alive forever and ever. He has risen from the dead never to die again. More than that, He holds the keys of death and the underworld, over which as God He alone has power. He carries the key of David and thus has ab-solute authority to admit or exclude anyone'from the city of David, the new Jerusalem. He "operis and no one shall shut, and'shuts and no one shall open." This is the Christ of the Apocalypse, infinitely majestic and august. He wiil come in the end seated on a cloud, and with a single swing of His sickle the' harvest of the earth will be reaped. His prhdominant characteristic is unbounded power. Only once or twice, it is said, does the tenderness of Christ's compassion or the intimacy of His fe!lowship with men make itself felt in this book. Yet when it does, it is unexpected and most poignant. Afier rebuking and praising, encouraging the faithful and castigating the tepid, Christ concludes: I reprove and discipline all whom I love. So be earnest and re: pent. Here I stand knocking at the door. If anyone listens to my voice ~and opens the door, I will be his guest and dine With him, and he with me. I will permit him who is victorious to take his seat.beside my father on his throne. In apocalyptic literatur~e Christ is frequently pictured as a judge at the door. Hire the beloved disciple sees Christ not as a judge but as a friend inviting us to :the closest kind 6f intimate companionship. For the Orientals the Lidea of perfect friendship is represented by the notion of taking a meal together. Since it is not uncommon for John to use words with additional connotations, even with a triple meaning, he may well be alluding here also to the Holy Eucharist, in which Christ Himself becomes our food, as ~vell as to the banquet prepared for the faithful in heaven. Even in this setting of gentle and tender intimacy, the glory awaiting the loyal friends of Christ is not forgotten. The place asked by their mother for the sons of Zebedee is to be had by all those who are faithful unto the end. The risen and ascended Christ is all in all to the members of His Church. He loves them; He redeemed them; and He has made them what they are, a new Israel, a kingdom of priests. In the succeeding visions, John prefers to speak of Christ as the Lamb. This is not to be looked on as a photograph or a picture or even as an imaginative'representation. Like the other images used, it is a symbol, a thought-representa~ tion to be taken according to its intellectual content. ~Th~ images are not essential and sho~uld not be retained. The ÷ The Christ o] the Apocalypse VOLU~E 20, 1961 361 + + ÷ Robert F. Weiss, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 362 author wishes to convey an idea, and that is all the image should be used for. He gives us a succession of these sym-b~ Is~rom ~hich he wishes us.to take an idea and then move on to the next. This is especially true of the various qualities ascribed to Christ whom he will repeatbdly iefer to as simply the Lamb. This is not the sacrificial Lamb of Isaiah about whom John is speaking; rather it is the Lamb as a leader. He the strong one, the sheperd 0f the faithful who will guide them.to the springs of living water, the fountain of which is God Himself. It is this Lamb alone who can break the seals and open the book upon which are written the secrets of history-~the story of the great sufferings to endured, the conflict that will rage, and Christ's ultimate and magnificent victory. The Lamb, has seven horns signify His unlimi~ted power and seven eyes as symbols His vast knowledge. As so frequently in the peculiar apoc-alyptic style of this letter, the number seven is used to completeness and plenitude. The Lamb as John sees Him appears as if slaughtered, and yet He lives. He has conquered sin and death. He was slain as a victim, but only the splendid results of sacrifice remain. To Him indeed belong the ~rerogatives of God. He is spoken of more and more, as John's account proceeds, in the same breath with God the Father. He has a share in the works of God. "Our deliverance is the work of our God who is seated on the throne and of the Lamb." In the glorious day of the heavenly Jerusalem, Christ Lamb will reign with His Father. John saw this Jerusalem: the holy city, coming down out of heaven from God, in all the glory of God. It shone with a radiance like that of some very precious stone, like jasper, clear as crystal . I saw no temple in it, for the Lord God, the'Almighty, and the Lamb are its temple. The city does not need the sun nor the moon to shine in it, for the glor~ of God lighted it, and the Lamb is its lamp. The heathen will walk by its. light. The kings of the earth will bring their splendor to ,t. Its gates will never be shut by day--for there will be no night there and they will bring the splendor and the wealth of the heathen into it. Noth!ng unclean will ever enter it. In this day God will make "all things new." The apostle is trying to describe heaven in .this passage using the language of the Old Testament with which his readers were familiar. The essential jo~ of this state of glory is that God will be with those who have remained faithful and they will be with Him. Everything good will also be in heaven, but the presence of God will be everything. God and His Christ are its sanctuary; God's glory will light it; the Lamb will be its lamp. There will be no need for a temple other than God or for the intermediary of religion, for God Himself will be possessed. The Lamb in the day of judgment can be terrible in His anger, and as a shepherd He rules with a rod of iron. But there is an arresting touch of tenderness in the glimpse we are given of the glorious victory to which .He will lead His followers: They are the people who come through the great pe~secuti0n, who haveowashed their robes white in the blood of the Lamb. That is why they are before the throne of God and serve him day and night in his :temple, and he who is seated on the throne will shelter them. They will never be hungry or thirsty again, and never again will the sun or any burning heat distress them, for the Lamb who is in the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and will guide them to springs of living water, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes., Seel God's dwelling is with men, and he will live with them. They will be .his people and God himself will be with them. Those who come through the time of tribulation are those who have washed their :robes in the blood of the Lamb. This symbolic expression includes both the idea of salva-tion through the death, of Christ and theoactivity of-the faithful' themselves signified by the washing. Their reward will be to participate in the worship of God day and night. With typical Hebrew reverence for the name of God, John speaks of Him "who is seated on the throne" rather, than repeat the sacred name: Just as in the land of promise there was to be a cessation of suffering, so in heaven the faithful will be eternally free from all care and want and every sort of mental distress or bodily pain. For the Hebrews water was scarce and very precious; a plentiful source of it signi- ,fled abundance and prosperity. The water here is a symbol of God's grace, and God is its source. John's vision is in terms of the Old Testament prophecy of Isaiah, but now in Christ the fulfillment is assured. There isone other appearance of Christ which must be mentioned, perhaps the most striking vision of all. Before, we saw the temple; now heaven itself is opened, andwe see the magnificent, triumphant Warrior-King followed by the armies of heaven: Then I saw heaven thrown open and there appeared a white horse. His rider was called Faithful and True, and he judges and wages war in uprightness. His eyes blazed like fire. There were many diadems on his head, and there was a name written on him which no one knew but himself. The garment he wore was spattered with blood, and his name was the word of God. The armies of heaven followed him mounted on white horses and clothed in pure white linen. From his mouth came a sharp sword with which he is to strike down the heathen. He will shepherd them with a staff of iron, and will tread the winepress of the

Issue 17.6 of the Review for Religious, 1958. ; A. M. D. G. Review Religious NOVEMBER 15, 1958 Plus Xll: St:at:es ot: Pert:ecfion . John Carroll I~ut:rell .! Current Spiritual Writing . Thomas G. O'Callaghan Preliminary t:o Adapt:at:ion . Sister Maria The General Chapt:er . Joseph F:. G~llen Book Reviews Questions and Answers Index t:or 1958 Roman Documents about: Mary and World Needs Catholic. Workers Spiritual Assistanc~ [or Soldiers VOLUME 17 NUMBER 6 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS VOLUME 17 NOVEMBER, 1958 NUMBER 6 .CONTENTS PIUS XII (1939-1958) AND THE STATES OF PERFECTION-- John Carroll Futrell, S.J . 321 OUR CONTRIBUTORS . 325 CURRENT SPIRITUAL WRITING-- Thomas G. O'Callaghan, S.J . 326 SUMMER-SESSION ANNOUNCEMENTS . 338 PRELIMINARY TO ADAPTATION Sister Maria . 339 MEDICO-MORAL PROBLEMS . 350 SURVEY OF ROMAN DOCUMENTS~R. F. Smith, S.J . 351 THE GENERAL CHAPTER--Joseph F. Gallen, S.J . 358 BOOK REVIEWS AND ANNOUNCEMENTS: Editor: Bernard A. Hausmann, S.J. West Baden College West Baden Springs, Indiana . 370 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS: 35. The Right to Refuse an Elective Office . 380 36. Limits of Extension of Hands at Mass . 381 37. Manner of Receiving Communion . 381 INDEX FOR VOLUME 17 . 382 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, November, 1958. Vol. 17, No. 6. Published bi-monthly by The Queen's Work, 3115 South Grand Blvd., St. Louis 18, Mo. Edited by the Jesuit Fathers of St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approval. Second class mail privilege authorized at St. Louis, Mo. Editorial Board: Augustine G. Ellard, S.J.; Gerald Kelly, S.J.; R. F. Smith, S.J.; and Henry Willmering, S.J. Literary Editor: Robert F. Weiss, S.J. Copyright, 1958, by The Queen's Work. Subscription price in U.S.A. and Canada: 3 dollars a year; 50 cents a copy. Printed in U.S.A. Please send all renewals and new subscriptions to: Review for Religious, 31|5 South Grand Boulevard. St. Louis 18o Missouri, Plus Xll (1939-1958) and t:he t:a!:es ot: Perl:ect:ion John Carroll Futrell, S,J. THE DEATH of Pope Pius XII was a great loss for the whole world and for men and women in every walk of life. Successor of St. Peter and hence divinely guided teacher of religious truths, he spoke out dearly on topical dog-matic and moral questior~s. "Pope of Peace," he appealed to people everywhere to practice the justice and self-control essential to the establishment of a harmonious world ordbr. To the faithful he was ever a father, the gentle Vicar of Christ who gave a radiant example of personal holiness and a true reflection of his divine Master. Nevertheless, perhaps it is the men and women dedicated to God in states of perfection who feel most indebted to this great pontiff and who most deeply mourn his passing. For he understood the special difficulties and problems of those endeavoring to carry out the duties oi: the states perfection in the modern world, and the acts of his pontificate are a lasting monument to this understanding. It is the purpose of this article to give a summary of the major contributions of this great pope to the welfare of the Church's states of perfection. Sacred Virginity To all the men and women who have embraced the evan-gelical counsels this Holy Father, who was called the Pastor /lngelicus, gave a new charter of praise and a ringing affirmation of their choice of vocation in his magnificent encyclical Sacra Virginitas, issued on March 25, 1954. Meeting current exag-gerated claims of the primacy of the married state, the Pope explained and lauded consecrated virginity freely elected for the love of Christ. Granting .that holiness can be attained without virginity, the Pontiff nevertheless showed the greater excellence of this state of exclusively divine love. He recalled to religious 321 JOHN CARROLL FUTRELL Review for Religious the necessary means and cautions to preserve chastity and recom-mended better presentation of the ideal of the celibate state to youth and greater support for it by Catholic parents so that vocations might flourish. Secular Institutes During the first decades of the twentieth century, fervent men and women in the world manifested a desire to lead lives of religious perfection while remaining in the world. Many of them took private vows to keep the evangelical counsels and dedicated themselves to apostolic activities within their secular environment. The canonical status of these men and women was obscure, and many tradition-minded ecclesiastics felt that they should be compelled to join approved associations of the faithful. In his apostolic constitution Provida Mater Ecclesia of February 2, 1947, Pope Pius XII gave these groups of men and women formal canonical recognition as secular insti-tutes and laid down laws to govern them. To facilitate the natural development of these institutes, the Holy Father left these laws in very 'broad outline. The members of secular institutes are not religious, as a general rule" have no com-munity life, take no public vows, and usually do not wear distinctive garb. But as the Pope made clear in a motu l~ro/~rio on March 12, 1948, and again in a talk to the International Congress on States of Religious Perfection on December 9, 1957, the secular institutes lack nothing of the elements con-stitutive of Christian perfection; they have their own nature and form, and their members need not join other associations of the faithful. The Training of Religious The late Holy Father, himself a man of extraordinary intellectual attainments and broad cultural and scientific inter-ests, was deeply convinced that religious priests and teaching sisters and brothers should receive an education which would fit them for the needs of the times. In his exhortation Menti nostrae of September 23, 1950, Pope Pius insisted upon the 322 November, 1958 Pius XII AND STATES OF PERFECTION importance of adequate seminary training and continual intel-lectual pursuits for the promotion of priestly sanctity. Six years later he fully developed this ideal of clerical training in the apostolic constitution Sedes Sapientiae, which laid down principles and statutes to govern the formation of religious candidates for the priesthood. The Pontiff insisted that the religious priest must be the perfect man in Christ Jesus, broadly cultured, intellectually the equal of men in ~he world, and equipped to refute modern errors and meet modern needs. Special note was taken of the necessity for a graduated train-ing in p.astoral technique which should culminate in a year's apprenticeship under experienced guides. In June of 1958 a Pontifical Institute of Pastoral Work was established in Rome to foster the pastoral development of priests, with courses aimed at practical work and at the preparation of seminary instructors. Nor was it only religious priests who were the object of Pius XII's concern. At the First International Conference of Teaching Sisters at Rome in. September, 1951, the Holy Father exhorted the sisters to prepare themselves well for the apostolate of education. The extent of the pontiff's solicitude for this preparation, especially for the teaching of Christian 'doctrine, was strikingly manifested on February 11, 1956, when he erected the pontifical institute Regina MunJi~ for the intellectual training of women in states of perfection. The Pope also recognized the importance of special training for mistresses of postulants, novices, and young religious; and by" a decree of the Sacred Congregation of Religious in March, 1957, he established the school Mater Dibi;~e G.i~ati~e at Rome to offer a three-year course in such training. Teaching brothers were greatly encouraged by an apos-tolic letter of March 31, 1954, wherein the Holy Father affirmed that the brothers are religious in. the full .sense of canon law, possessing a divine vocation approved and pro-tected by the Church to engage in the apostolate of education. 323 JOHN CARROLL FUTRELL Review for Religiot~s This includes a mandate to teach Christian doctrine within the limits prescribed by canon law. In July, 1957, a decree of the Sacred Congregation of Religious erected the pontifical institute JeSlCS ~Iagisler with a program of training to pro-mote the self-sanctification of the brothers and to better pre-pare them to lead their students to Christian truth and virtue. Contemplative Nuns Sponsa Christi, the apostolic constitution of November 21, 1950, on the vocation of contemplative nuns, marked a milestone in the understanding of the place of this high state of perfection in the modern world. The Pope laid down general statutes governing solemn vows, gave a preliminary clarification of major and minor papal cloister, and reaf~rmed the essentially monastic and autonomous character of the indi-vidual houses. Nonetheless, he strongly urged the organiza-tion of federations of monasteries for the fostering of religious spirit and the alleviation of economic problems and suggested limited apostolic activity even to strictly cloistered groups. Later, in March, 1956, the Pontiff promulgated definitive legislation regarding the cloister of nuns. One of the last acts of the life of Plus XII was a beautiful allocution to contemplative nuns delivered over the radio in July and August, 1958. The Pope urged the nuns to know and love their contemplative life. He exhorted superiors to plan carefully the formation of young religious in the contemplative life and warned that this formation must be adapted to modern girls. Finally he taught once again that certain types of apostolic activity such as the education of the young, retreats for women, and works of charity toward the sick and the poor are compatible with the essence of the contemplative life, provided the interior striving for union with God continues uninterrupted. New Things and Old Perhaps the most constant desire of Pope Plus XII for the states of perfection was that they would return to the fervent spirit of their founders and at the same time adapt 324" Novc~bcr, 1958 Pius XII AND STATES OF PERFECTION their customs and practices to contemporary ~circumstances. In allocutions and letters from 1939 to 1958 he stressed the need for this accommodation to modern needs and for the simultaneous deepening of the original spirit of each institute. Speaking to the First General Congress on States of Perfection, Decem-ber 8, 1950, he exhorted modern religious to imitate their founders in examining the beliefs, convictions, and conduct of their own contemporaries, adopting .those elements which are good and proper; and he warned that without this adaptation they would never be able to enlighten and guide the men of their own time. Speaking to the First International Congress of Teaching Sisters, September, 1951, and again to superiors general of institutes of religious women, September, 1952, Pope Pius specifically suggested accommodation of religious habits, manner of life, and asceticism to modern needs in order to stop the alarming decrease of vocations by removing the barriers set up by stubborn adherence to usages meaningful in another cultural situation but now empty formalism. Finally, in February of 1958 the Holy Father spoke to superiors gen-eral of religious orders and congregations of the ever-present necessity of drawing upon the spirit of the founders of each institute. Nov~? el ve/er~--this was his constant theme. Religi-ous must learn to live in their own world and in their own time with all the fervor of their founders. These, then, were the major contributions of Pope Pius XII to the states of perfection. He has left a rich legacy to the members of these states, and his memory will live on in their faithful following of his directives. OUR CONTRIBUTORS JOHN CARROLL FUTRELL is completing his theological studies at St. Mary's College, St. Marys,. Kansas. THOMAS G. O'CAL-LAGHAN is professor of ascetical and mystical theology at Weston College, Weston 93, Massachusetts. SISTER MARIA is a Sister of the Humility of Mary, whose teaching field is Spanish language and litera-ture. R. F. SMITH is a member of the faculty of St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas. JOSEPH F. GALLEN is professor of canon law at Woodstock College, Woodstock, Maryland. 325 Current: Spiri!:ual Writing Thomas ~o. O'Callaghan, S.J. Charles de Foucauld CHARLES DE FOUCAULD (1858-1916) has certainly been one of the most impressive and striking figures the Church in the last half century. After a worldly life as a French army officer, he was converted to a sincere Christian life. Shortly i~fterwards he entered the Trappists. After seven years of a dedicated Trappist life, he felt himself called to a still more literal imitation of Jesus. Especially did he desire to live the. life of a poor workingman in imitation of our Lord's. hidder~ life at Nazareth. This led him ultimately to the desert, to the life of a poor priest, a wanderer, sharing the life of the poorest nomad tribes. But P~re de Foucauld was a wanderer burning with a love of Jesus whom he desired to bring to these people in a silent way, through his loving and kind friendship. Just as Christ Himself did during His hidden years .at Nazareth, P~re de Foucauld desired to preach the gospel in siler~ce, to reveal to others in a silent way something of Christ. Although he had hoped to found a religious congregation --he wrote two different Rules for one--before his plans could be fulfilled, he was murdered by Touaregs in the Hoggar desert. In fact, it was not until ten years after his death that his first disciples, attracted by the example of his totally evan-gelical life, began to gather. Since 1933 three different con-gregations have been founded--the Congregation of Little Brothers of Jesus and two congregations of sisters; and today these three count more than nine hundred religious. What is characteristic of the spirituality of P~re de Fou-cauld and his followers? This has been answered in a most 326 CURRENT SPIRITUAL WRITING " interesting article by R. Voillaume, the Prior General ot~ the Little Brothers of Jesus.1 The Little Brothers of Jesus--the same is true of the Sisters--have three dominant characteristics. The first is their poverty. P~re de Foucauld could not, as he said, "conceive of loving Jesus without a constraining need of imitation or without, the sharing of each cross" (p.~ 29"2). He pictured Christ and the Holy Family as quite poor, working hard among the poor inhabitants of Nazareth. That was the life which he wanted, toil and poverty; he wanted to be socially a poor man and to be treated as such, and he did not want to .be given the social rank usually accorded to priests and religious. His love of Christ dictated "a need to imitate Jesus, to live as Jesus lived at Nazareth, sharing ~he life, the circumstances, the burden of the worker and the other poor" (p. 294). The second characteristic is adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. In each fraternity there is a chapel, and usually at the end of each day the Blessed Sacrament is ex16osed for adoration. The Little Brothers offer "their lives of work and poverty every day, in order to save their brothers in union with Jesus' own offering in the Eucharist" (p. 294). Because their .chapels are so frequently situated in the midst of the masses of the p~ople, the brothers are able~to combine their contemplation with their "presence to men" (one of their favorite expressions). Could they not live this life of poverty and adoration in a monastery, as so many other religious do? No; P~re de Foucauld felt forced to go to the poor, to bring Christ to them, more through hisway of living than by preaching. This is their third characteristic: "a silent apostolate through their mere presence in a very simple, unobtrusive and fraternal kind of friendship, an apostlolate meant more particularly for the more abandoned strata of society" (p. 292). It means z"P~re de Foucauld and His Fraternities," Blackfriars, XXXIX (1958), 290-99. 327 THOMAS G. O'CALLAGHAN Review for Religious making oneself a little brother to others, loving men for their own sake, as God would, and thus helping others to discover something of the love which Christ has for them. In this way they prepare hearts to receive the Gospel, or to under-stand it better. This article is most enlightening. Those who might desire a fuller account of the spirituality of the Little Brothers of Jesus will find it in Father Voillaume's very interesting and excellent book, Seeds of the Desert. Lourdes Since this is the centennial of the apparitions of the Blessed Virgin at Lourdes, there have appeared during the year a few books and numerous articles on the young girl who was favored with those apparitions, St. Bernadette. Of all the articles on this charming young saint, certainly one of the most delightful was written bp Father James Brodrick, s.J., undoubtedly one of the most polished of modern hagi-ographers, z Bernadette, who was canonized twenty-five years ago, is rather an extraordinary saint, precisely because in so many ways she was so ordinary. Yet perhaps it is her very ordi-nariness which is her great charm. Apart from the apparitions themselves, her life was quite simple. She neither said nor wrote anything profound or sublime; she was not known for remarkable penances; she had not followers or disciples, nor was she marked by an outstanding zeal for souls; she really did nothing very uncommon. Yet she was truly a saint, pos-sessing, as Father Brodrick claims along with Dr. Rend Lau-rentin, a "sanctity free of accessories and reduced to its essence, the sanctity without human grandeur or accidental charms, which was that of the Holy Family at Nazareth" (p. 271). If one gazes through the spontaneous simplicity and un-starched charm of this young girl, the clear signs of heroic z"St. Bernadette," T/~e Mont/s, XIX (1958), 271-82. 328 November, 1958 CURRENT SPIRITUAL WRITING virtue are clearly discernible. One of these signs_ was the constancy of her witness, her quiet tenacity in holding to the simple and unadorned truth in the face oi~ the ~l~reats and menaces, the coaxing and flattery, of both ecclesiastical and civil authorities. Even when she was threatened With prison by the commissioner of police, she gave simply and bravely her now famous answer: "So much the better. I shall be less expense to my father, and while I am in prison you will come and teach me the catechism." (p. 278) Regardless as to how people tried to cajole and inveigle her into telling the three secrets which .the Virgin had asked her to keep, she never weakened. This calm and quiet constancy of her wit-ness reveals the great strength of grace in her soul. Another clear indication of her heroic virtue was her humble thirst to be forgotten. She shunned attention, found the veneration shown her a bore. Although invited and en-couraged to attend, she even stayed away from the solemn consecration of the basilica at Lourdes in July, 1876, lest she be recognized and attract attention. So humble was her con-tinual way of acting that Father Herbert Thurston, S.J., surmised that one of her three secrets was "a pact with the Blessed Virgin never under any circumstances to try to draw to herself the attention of the world . . ." (p. 281) . Bernadette is truly a charming saint, and this article is a delightful portrait of her unself-conscious sanctity. The celebration of the centenary of the apparitions of the immaculate Virgin to Bernadette at Lourdes is an occasion for asking what role these, as well as other apparitions of our Lady, play in the life of the Church, and what attitude Cath-olics should have toward them. These important questions are answere.d very satisfactorily by Father DeLetter, S.J.3 The first~ thing which strikes one about the attitude of the Church towards these apparitions is her prudent caution; she avoids the extremes of either unenlightened enthusiasm "The Meaning of Lourdes," The Clergy MonHHy, XXII (1958), 3-16. 329 THOMAS G. 0'CALLAGHAN Review for Religious or skeptical scorn. She does 'not distrust God, but she knows very well from experience that man can be mistaken and that the devil can deceive even saintly men. Before she gives her approval to apparitions, therefore, she prudently demands a thorough and painstaking examination of the evidence. If, upon examination, she finds sufficient historical evidence for the authenticity of the apparitions, then she gives, her approval. But what does this approval mean? "Everything con-sidered, an ecclesiastical approval of a divine communication implies the three following statements: First, that it comprises nothing contrary to the faith or to morality. Secondly, that it may be made known in publications. Thirdly, that ~he faith-ful are given explicit permission to believe it with caution." (pp. 5-6) (It is a question here of human belief, not ot~ divine faith.) What role do these apparitions and the private revela-tions connected with them play in the life Of the Church? Father DeLetter, in answer to this question, states and develops the theology of these apparitions under five headings: 1) These apparitions are signs of the divine presence and action of Christ in the Church today. 2) These divine interventions have an apologetic value in both strengthening the faith of believers and inviting non-believers to accept the faith. 3) While not changing or increasing the deposit of faith, these divine interventions do have doctrinal significance. They are signs, drawing attention to some element of the Catholic faith which is an answer to the particular needs of the times, e.g. a call to prayer and penance. 4) Many of these apparitions of our Lady, such as Lourdes and Fatima, help to make us more aware during this Marian age of the role which the Blessed Mother plays in ~he economy of the Redemption. 5) "Lourdes in particular came as a heavenly confirmation of the definition of the Immaculate Conception . . ." (p. 9). This article, if carefully read, will be very profitable for all, since the place of apparitions in the life "of the Church 330 November, 1958 CURRENT SPIRITUAL WRITING and the attitude which Catholics should have towaid them is often not well understood. Especially, however, will it be helpful to the extremists who are either overenthusiastic about apparitions or superiorly scornful of all that "mystical and pietistic nonsense." Liturgy and Scripture Father Balthazar Fischer, a professor of liturgy at Trier, Germany, and a member of the commission which drew up the German Ritual, delivered at St. Patrick's College, Maynooth, Ireland, a lecture on Christian psalm-praying. The lecture was printed in The Furrow.4 What he primarily discussed was: first, a fundamental presupposition for praying the psalms in a Christian way, that is, how to give the psalms a Christological meaning; second, the four basic attitudes of soul one should have in praying, the psalms. Concerning the first point, he wrote: Th'ey [the people of the early Church and of the Middle Ages] had two ways of finding this Christological meaning in the Psalter. Sometimes .they saw Christ as the one who prayed the psalms, the Just One /~ar excellence: and so they joined Him in praying to the Father: Psalmus vox Ecclesiae cu'm Christo ad Patrem. This was the way that St. Augustine loved so much. The other way was not to look upon Christ as the one who prays the psalms but as the God of the psalms, and so address them directly to Him: Psalmus vox Ecclesiae ad Christum. This was the way which St. Benedict seems to have pre-ferred, and a way which was also known to St. Augustine and his predecessors in the Christian interpretation of the psalms as ~ar back as the second century. (p. 68) . If we use this double principle in praying the psalms, either praying them with Christ to the. Father, or, perhaps what is the simpler way, directing them to Christ, we will have the consoling experience of having the Psalter, as Newman said, "breathe Christ." The greater part of the article, however, is a development oi~ the four fundamental dispositions which are necessary for a fruitful praying of the psalms. The psalms must be sung 4"Praying the Psalms," IX (1958), 67-78. 331 THOMAS G. O'CALLAGHAN Review for Religiot~s in a spirit of tranquillity, humility, childlikeness, and joyful-ness. "These four principles are valid for all praying; but they are valid in a special m~nner for him for whom the Psalter has become a Christian prayerbook" (p. 69). Those interested in the liturgy and Scripture will find some very interesting matter in an article by Paul Doncoeur, S.J., "Bible and Liturgy: Fruitful Tension.":' The liturgical and scriptural movements have both developed noticeably during the last few decades. Although in many ways they have developed independently, nevertheless, because each was correctly orientated from the beginning, they have converged. The liturgy has been most clearly enriched by scriptural studies; and it is becoming more and more evident that Scripture can receive new meaning from the liturgy. Each has helped and strengthened the other. Inversely, however, if the biblical movement should ever try to propose to the faithful subtle exegesis in place of the substantial word of God--which has happened to some degree in the past--then Scripture would never nourish the interior life as it should. But also, if the liturgy should ever be emptied of the substance of the Scriptures, then it would relapse into sentimental devotions. An important point for liturgists not to forget, says Father Doncoeur, quoting Louis Bouyer, is that " the first requirement for a liturgical movement that will lead to an authentic revival of the Church's true piety is never to bring liturgy back to the peopl~ with-out, at the same time, giving them greater access to the Bible" (p. 97). . . Father David M. Stanley, S.J., who teaches Sacred Scripture at Toronto and is one of the outstanding New Testament scholars in North America, has been, esp.ecially during the past year or two, a very frequent con'tributor to Worship. One of his recent ai'ticles was on the meaning of the wedding feast at Cana.~ :' Worshil~, XXXII (1958), 89-100. ~"Cana as Epiphany," XXXII {1958), 83-89. 332 November, 1958 CURRENT SPIRITUAL WRITING The wedding feast ,at Cana was one of the three principal epiphanies of Christ. Our Lord's baptism was His epiphany as the Christ, the awaited Messias; the Magi story was His epiphany as universal King, even of the pagan nations; Cana was His epiphany as God's incarnate son on earth, and therefore as Mary's son. What role does Christ give to His Mother at Cana? Our Lord's reply ("What wouldst thou have me to do, woman? My hour has not yet come") to His Mother's request for help ("They have no wine") indicates something of the part which Mary is to play in the redemptive work of her son. The interpretation of our Lord's answer has always been difficult for those not familiar with the Semitic idiom. But, according to Father Stanley, what our Lord tells His Mother is that here and now ". He must act independently and without her help. However, when the 'hour' par excellence, the crisis upon Calvary, arrives, she will play her part . In that supreme moment, the Mother of Jesus will collaborate in the final struggle with Satan and share the victory over evil." {pp. 86-87) Our Lord, then, by His answer, predicted implicitly--as the article shows in greater detail--Mary's role as co-redemptrix and her future motherhood of all His disciples. ~ St. John of the Cross There appeared in a recent issue of Spiritual. Life an article outlining the spiritual teaching of St. John of the Cross.7 Among the points of St. John's doctrine which the author touched upon, there was one which usually is not sufficiently stressed: the Christocentric character of the saint's teachings. In the teaching of St. John of-the Cross, spiritual per-fection consists in the complete and perfect union of love between God and the soul, that is, in transforming union. It is to this perfect union that he is always directing a soul, and it is on .this union that his whole spiritual teaching con- 7 Paul of the Cross, OoC.D., "St. John of the Cross," IV (1958), 47-61. 333 THOMAS G. 0'CALLAGHAN Review for Religioz~s verges. He calls this union spiritual marriage. But in this union who is the bridegroom to whom the soul is ,united? It is Christ. In the doctrine of St. John it is the Incarnate Word who is the spouse of.the soul. St. John's notion of perfection, therefore, has a Christocentric character. John here is speaking of Christ as .God, it is true; but it is still Christ. Christ as man, or the humanity of Christ, also has a very dear and definite place in the doctrine of the Carmelite saint. Briefly, the way to transforming union is by the perfect imita-tion of the humanity of Christ ,out ;of love for Christ. The perfect imitation of Christ as man, espedidlly Christ crucified, leads to perfect union with Christ as God. Even when St. John is directing souls into a prayer of obscure contemplation, he does not teach them to abandon the humanity cote Christ as they put aside their discursive meditation. Although it is true that the soul's gaze may be centered more .directly on Christ's di¢inity, it is still going out to the whole Christ, to the Incarnate Word. So also, when the contemplative soul is loving Christ, it is not the divinity alone which it loves, but the God-man, the Incarnate Word, the whole Christ. For St. John of the Cross, Christ truly holds a central place. He is the way according to His humanity, and the end in His divinity. For St. John, as we just mentioned, spiritual perfection consists in union with God. This union of the soul with God comes to pass, he says, ". . when the two wills--namely that of the soul and that of God--are conformed together in one, and there is naught in the one that is repugnant to the other.' '~ Can a total consecration to the Blessed Mother be har-monized with such a concept of the spiritual life? It certainly s .'Isrg'Zll" of llloltt~! (:~lrttlrl, II, ch. V, 3 (translated by" E. Allison Peers: West-minster: Newman,~1945, I, 80). 334 November, 1958 CURRENT SPIRITUAL WRITING can, says Father William G. Most.'~ In explaining how this may be done, he suggests a point which is ~)ell worth consideration and reflection. The will of Mary is always in perfect unisor~ with the will of 'God. To conform one's will to the will of GOd then is objectively to conform it also to the will of the Blessed Mother. If one stressed more consciously this latter aspect, the Blessed Mother couli:l easily be given the all-pervasive role in the spiritual life which she deserves. One would then be able to live a life not only of conformity to the will of God, but also at the same time of conformity with the will of the Blessed Mother. New Date for the Last Supper The date of the Last Supper has always proposed a serious problem for Scripture scholars. The problem consists mainly in reconciling St. John's Gospel with the Synoptic evangelists. In their attempted solutions scholars have usually placed the Last Supper on Thursday. But this leaves some serious difficulties still unsolved. The most recent and satisfying solution to the problem has been that proposedby Miss A. Jaubert' of Paris. Accord-ing to her the Last Supper took place, not on Thursday, but on Tuesday. If this theory is accepted, then obbiously the chronology of the events of o'ur Lord's Passion will have to be revised. Miss Jaubert's theory, together with her revised chronology of the Passion, has been neatly summarized in a recent article by George W. MacRae, S.J.1° Beginning with the Saturday before Good Friday, this would be the order of the events of the Passion. Saturday: In the even~ing Jesus is anointed during supper at Lazarus' home in Bethany. Sunday: Christ makes His triumphal entry into Jerusalem. During the day Judas first approaches the chief priests about betraying our Lord. Later that day Christ returns to ~)"Consecration to Mary," S/,iritual~Life, IV (1958); 108-17. New Date for the Last Supper," /Imerican Ecclesiastical Re*sie~, CXXXVIII (1958), 294-302. 335 THOMAS G. 0'CALLAGHAN Review for Religious Bethany to pass the night there. Monday: Jesus leaves Bethany and curses the fig tree. Tuesday: In the morning, after spending another night outside the city, ~he apostles notice the withered fig tree as they pass by. Later they ask Christ where He wants to celebrate the passover, and in the evening the Last Supper takes place. Later that night, after the Agony in the Garden, Christ is arrested and is brought to the house of Annas for interrogation. While this question-ing is going on, out in the courtyard .of Annas the denials of Peter are taking place. Annas then sends Christ bound to Caipha_s and Christ spends the rest of the night there. Wednesday: At daybreak the elders, chief priests, and scribes gather for the first legal trial. After the trial, since the Jewish law forbade rendering the verdict the same day as the trial, Christ passes another night as captive. Thursday: In the morning Christ is condemned by the Sanhedrin. Then He is immediately brought to Pilate who questions Him. It is on this occasion that the chief priests refuse to enter Pilate's court lest they be defiled. Pilate sends Him to Herod, and Herod in turn sends Him back again. Thursday night Christ spends as a prisoner in Pilate's fortress. It is .during this night that the incident of the dream of Pilate's wife occurs. Friday: In the morning Christ appears again before Pilate. Then He is ~courged, condemned, led through the streets, and crucified. ". this chronology of our Lord's Passion appears to do far more justice to the series of events in the Passion itself than does a shorter period of time . There are still difficulties in understanding the Gospel accounts that it does not resolve. But so long as we regard it as a possible explana-tion, while awaiting further confirmation we may find it an aid to a clearer picture of the Passion of our Lord." (p. 302) Priestly Virtues What are the key qualities which Christ demands of His apostle-priests? The basic ones, says Father Spicq, O.P., draw- 336 November, 2958 CURRENT SPIRITUAL WRITING ing his answer from three major scriptural passages, are those of the three theological virtues.11 The fundamental virtue required of an apostle-priest is faith. For it is through faith that he will posses the truths of the kingdom which he must preach to the world; it is faith which brings him into contact with the mysteries of the divine life and the "unfathomable riches of Christ" (Eph 3:8) of which he must be a witness. It is not that his faith is different from that of the faithful; but it must have the solidity of rock. It must give him those qualities of steadfastness and stability which are needed in a man who has been chosen to bear witness and to preach. His life must be rooted deeply in the solid truth of firm faith. In the mission given him by Christ, the priest knows that without Christ he can do nothing, but that with Christ he can do all things. In the Lord, then, he must hope.The Lord has spoken to him: ". take courage; I haveover-come the world" (John 16:33). So the priest must place his unshakable confidence and hope in the triumph won by Christ. To receive, however, from "Christ the strength and help which he needs, the priest must also pray. He is not exempted from prayer merely because he hopes in the Lord. Prayer is an integral part of his vocation. "A man of flesh and blood can do divine work only with this effective means [of prayer], by harnessing God's own power to the task" (p. 14). Prayer, therefore, must also be joined to firm hope, if the priest is to be a true apostole of Christ. In a priest's life, even more central than faith and hope, there must be love. The priest must surrender his whole heart to Christ, both to the person of Christ and the work I, "Priestly Virtues in the New Testament," Seril~t',*re, X (1958}, I0-16. The second installment of this article appears in the July issue, pp. 84-93; and in it Father Spicq treats of some of the other priestly vit:tues: compassion, fidelity, prudence, purity, etc. 337 THOMAS G. 0'CALLAGHAN ,9~ ~Chris.t, the ,salvation of souls. "The heart of the priest, l~cked in t, heo'embrace of Christ's love (2 Cor. 5:14), will therefore love souls as Christ loves them and because he loves them (John 15:12)" (p. 15). For a priest, however, this l~ve of souls will mean.the humble service of souls. Such was the life and love of Christi such must also be the life and love of the priest. SUMMER-SESSION ANNOUNCEMENTS For many years we have been publishing announcements of summer sessions. Our purpose in doing this is to help our readers to know where they may attend courses or institutes of special pertinence .to religious. Directors and deans of summer sessions who wish to avail themselves of this service should carefully observe the following points: 1} Only courses of special pertinence to religious should be listed. The 2le) nTghthe aonf nthoiusn pcaermagernatp shh oisu ilrdr eblee vliamnti,t epdr otov iad esdin igt lceo pnatraaingsra opnhl.y matters of special pertinence to religious. 3) The paragraph should be triple-spaced and prepared in such a manner that it can be sent to the printers without re-typing or editing. 4) There should be a reasonable minimum of capital letters, and no words should be typed entirely in capital letters. 5) The dates of the summer sessions or institutes should be clearly specified. 6} The best time for publishing these announcements is our March number. The deadline for this number is January 5. The next-best time is the May number. The deadline for this number is March 1. 7) The announcement should be addressed to our editorial office, g~vfEw FOR RI'HAGIOUS, St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas. By way of postscript we should like to call attention to a note that we found it necessary, to publish in March, 1957. There we stated that most deans who had sent in announcements had either completely or partially ignored our specifications. One reason for this may be that the deans themselves (especially if they are not priests or religious) do not read this REv1~\v. We therefore urge that some member of the community show the summer-school dean this announcement; 338 Preliminary t:o Adap!:a!:ion DURING THE PAST decade religious have been urged to consider how their mode of life might be adapted to meet the specific needs of our times. Here in the United States various groups ha(,e been working to effect the adapta-tion and renovation of religious life which the Church has rec-ommended. The I~EvlI~\~ FOR I,tELIGIOUS, one of those deeply inter-ested in fostering needed changes, has, in many issues, made available to its readers papal and ecclesiastical statements about adaptation and renovation. "Roman Congregations and the Religious Life," a collection of statements of Roman congrega. tions, dignitaries, and officials of the Holy See, made by Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. (November 15, 1956, pp. 309-27)~. points to the need for studying the spirit and mind of the founders as a first step toward reform and intensification of religious life. Articles and commentaries in the I~EVIE\V have also indi-cated that religious orders ought to study their constitutions, directories, and traditions to determine what directives ,might be eliminated, modified, or changed in order to accomplish more fruitfully during this century the purpose or end of religious life. This article, which diaws heavily from the Acta 'of the Congress of the States of Perfection (Rome, 1950), makes the point that the study of th.e spirit of one's order is a neces-sary preliminary to. adaptation and renovation and suggests some techniques which might be used to arrive at a more exact understanding of this spirit and of the ways by which it can be produced in the members of a given order. 3~9 SISTER MARIA Review for Religious The revision of constitutions ordered by the Sacred Con-gregation of Religious in 1922 did not put an end to consti-tutional modifications. As the most Reverend Arcadio Lar-raona, C.M.F., indicated to the mothers general at a congress in Rome (REVIE\V FOR RELIGIOUS, November 15, 1954, p. 297), "Rome is ready to consider the advisability of [consti-tutional] changes on certain points, provided the individual communities show good reasons for the modification they wish to introduce." In regard to changes of custom, he counsels superiors never to fear to request change because such change might be considered disloyal to community traditions. Modifications of dress and of horarium, elimination of class distinctions within an order, these and other changes of custom and constitutions have been directly urged by the Pope as ways in which religious life can be adapted to better accom-modate those who enter religious life and those among and with whom the religious labor. These needed changes in non-essential elements must be made with care in order not to destroy that which makes an order a distinct entity: its spirit. The number of distinct orders, institutes, congregations, and other religious groups in existence today gives evidence of the variety of ways in which the Holy Spirit expresses Himself in different places and at different times according to the needs of the Church. Each order does have a characteristic spirit, peculiar to its work and its specific virtues. I. Van Houtryve, O.S.B., gives an example of this variety among religious orders with the following illustration of the different approaches orders make to asceticism: St. Benedict sees asceticism from the angle of humility; and he is, in the Church, the legislator of filial obedience; daughter of humility. St. Francis sees it all from. the point of view of poverty . St. Dominic borrows from monastic life fasts and abstinences, the hard bed and silence--but all these practices are seen as reparation, sus-tenance, and food for the contemplative life; and they are ordered to the apostolic life . Most modern congregations devoted to 340 November, 1958 PRELIMINARY TO ADAPTATION action owe to St. Ignatius the spirit of their work--the interior strug-gle, sacrifice, and the need to give the apostolate its only possible solid base: abnegation and the carrying of the cross. (Acta. p. 463-64) Many similar contrasts of religious groups might be drawn in order to make evident the way in ~vhich one differs from another. Religious orders differ because their functions vary; their unique character stems in part from the particular work to which they are ordained: the divine liturgy, the spiritual works oi: mercy, or the corporal works of mercy. As St. Thomas explains (Summa, II,II, q. 188, a. 1), " . . . religious orders may be differentiated in two ways. l~irst, according to different things to which they may be directed . Secondly, there may be various religious orders according to t~e diversity of prac-tices. ." Even in religious groups dedicated to the same type of work, teaching, for example, one notes marked differences. One religious order may be distinguished from another not by its work but by the specific virtues which are characteristic of its approach to the religious ideal. This religious ideal is our Lord, but as there are hundreds of paintings of Christ--and each different because of the way in which the painter conceived his model--so there are countless ways of striving to imitate this ideal. In an article on the spiritual formation of the educators of religious, Graziano della Madre di Dio, O.C.D., stresses the dual nature of the individual order's approach to the religious ideal: In Jesus the great molders of souls who were the founders of religious orders and institutes found their ideal. How interesting it would be to point out in them, besides the generic element, the characteristics of the personal mode. St. Benedict, St. Francis, St. Dominic, St. Ignatius, St. John of the Cross, St. John Bosco, and many others had an educative-form of their own that was actualized in the highly differentiated formation of their first spiritual disciples. Consequently all educators of religious, studyirig the prototypes of their own religious family, besides the essential exemplary form of Jesus, ought to individuate and to bring out the specific char-acteristics with which every founder of an order or institute approved 341 SISTER MARIA Review for Religio,,s by the Church, and therefore willed by God, has made detailedly more refulgent, varied, and rich the archetype of the Master. (Rio vista de Vita Spirituale, January-March, 1954, p. 37) If there is variety in the work and in the virtues stressed by different orders, then there must also be variety of spirit or personality so that it can be asserted that each religious order has a distinctive spirit which is not the same as that of another order. This spirit--peculiar to a particular order--developed from the thought of the founder about the type of religious group needed to meet the demands of his place, time, and circum-stances. It is well to recall that he was inspired to provide for the needs of his own age, but not for the needs of all periods of history without some adaptation by his order as conditions changed. As Abbot Peter Bassett, O.S.B., explains, Every religious order worthy of this name is born of the coming together of a great religious genius and of a spiritual need of a given time . IThisl fundamental religious intention, valid, no doubt, for all time, found its spiritual efficacy only in incarnating itself in a religious form which responded perfectly to the spiritual needs of the age. And the secret of the continuance of these insti-tutions could not have been and will not be able to be in anything but a fidelity to the spirit which created them, joined to a constant care to remain in contact with the history of the Church among men. (Acta, pp. 128-29) It is fidelity to the spirit of one's order that one must strive to maintain when one attempts to follow papal and ecclesiastic directives to adapt rules and customs to twentieth-century life. One cannot be faithful to the spirit of one's order unless one knows with some degree of certainty what rules, what customs, what aspects of life in a particular order are essential to the development of that order's distinctive spirit. The purpose of this discussion is to focus a~tention on the need for seeking such knowledge about one's own constitutions and customs and to suggest some means of indicating a sturdy of the spirit of one's order. Thet:e is available in Spanish~ a worthwhile discussion of the fidelity which~ a religious superior owes to the founder, . to the 342 November, 1958 PRELIMINARY TO ADAPTATION spirit of the Institute, and to tradition .(Semana de Oracidn y Estudio para Superioras Religiosas, Editorial Oculsa, Madrid, 1950, pp. 76-92). One of the points which Gregorio Mar-tinez de Antonana, C.M.F., the author, makes in his discussion of "The Superior and the Institute" is that superiors in newly formed congregations or institutes ought to consider carefully what it is that constitute~ the spirit of their own order so as not to stifl~ the development of this essential quality by seeking to cultivate the spirit of older orders along with or rather than their own. He urges superiors of these recent foundations to take special care to be docile to inspiration and not to make changes based on their own personal whims in matters and problems of government. Before one can determine what the spirit of one's order is, one must have a clear notion of what. is meant by the term spirit when it is used in reference to a religious order. In a paper given at a French congress for religious sisters, Victor de la Vierge, O.C.D., states that "spirit' is what characterizes and gives" the order its reason fo~ existence." (R~ligi0us. Sisters, Newman Press, pp. 253-54). He points out two aspects, the objective, which is "the divine inspiration the founder crys-tallized into rules which provide for the attainment of the end in view," and the subjective, which is "the Characteristic and un-changing way of thinking, understanding, and willing which tradition allows us to observe in an order as an institution and in the life and teaching of the members who have gon( before." Th~ rules are the first definite statement of the spirit. Living ac,c.ording to the rule produces the spirit. The spirit itself, like any entity, defies definition. One can state what causes th~ spirit to develop and what it in turn effects, but to say what spirit is in itself is difficult. For all practical purposes, one can identify it with the rules. To equip Oneself for more judicious adaptation, one must: search for that in the rule which fosters the development, of the spirit. At times one can observe rather tangibly the effects of the uniqtie spirit 343 Review for Religio.s of an order in the characteristic acts and virtues of individuals in whom the same spirit has been developed through a specific program of formation based on the thought of the founder. In adapting rules, directories, and customs, one must be careful not to destroy that which develops the spirit. As an aid to superiors and councils, Ricardo Lombardi, s.J., indicates a norm of action for adaptation: Let superiors therefore keep two objectives in mind. They must carefully preserve unchanged the essence of their institute, without which it cannot endure--at least as long as some useful reason for its endurance remains. But at the same time they ought to promote a reasonable evolt~tion in those things which do not pertain to the substance of the institute, and which, if stubbornly kept un-changed, will themselves lead to its death. Let us consider now what ard the essential things which can be enumerated in brief summary: 1.) the end or fundamental rea-son for the Institute, 2.) its peculiar spirit which has been praised by" the Church, 3.) all those things which are necessary for attaining the end or preserving the spirit. These features are to be maintained unaltered. Those things which were selected for some peculiar reason or for a certain time and circumstances as more suitable then to attain the end and promote the spirit, are to be subjected to continuous examination, and whenever a real necessity occurs, they can be changed. Indeed they are a means, not an end, and means are to be fitted to an end--certainly the end should not bend to the service of the means. (Acta. p. 117) Our times demand that religious have the courage to make changes in their mode of life. The Pope and the hier-archy have gradually initiated and effected great changes in the liturgy in order to facilitate twentieth-century man's ap-proach to the sacraments. The call for adaptation in religious life aims to enable the religious to achieve greater success in bringing Christ's message to the modern world. To adapt effectively one must know what one is adapting and why and how one is to do it. Adaptation requires knowledge of the unique personality of one's order. To arrive at a greater degree of self-knowledge, one studies what man is, what he can become, and how one man differs from another; and then one judiciously compares this knowl- 344 November, ~58 PRELIMINARY TO ADAPTATIOI~ edge with one's knowledge of self to determine what manner of man one is. In similar fashion those who wish to study the spirit of their order should delve into the historical devel-opment of religious life. To attain a better understanding of the ~'al".~otl ~t'~lre of their own order, they might consider the foundation and growth of various religious orders, the regula-tions the Church has made in regard to religious orders, and the development of the religious ideal up to the present time. Thus they will be able to discern how contemplative, active, and mixed religious orders fit into that "variety which surrounds the Queen." One might begin a review of the foundation and devel-opment of religious orders by examining the four rules, Bene-dict's, Augustine's, Basil's, and Anthony's. Of particular interest would be the one from which one's own rule has evolved. After having considered themeaning ofthe term spirit in its application to a religious order and afthearving surveyed the historical development of religious ordeirns general, one would be ready to proceed to the ktudy of thefoundation and development of one's own order. A study of the growth of one's order implies examination not only of the history of its schools, monasteries, .hospitals, and other ins.titutions; but more important still it implies consideration of the historical devel-opment of the founder's thought as it has been applied, modi-fied, and define'~ through the centuries by superiors, chapters, bishops, and thd Holy See, or even by members of the order who have studied and written about the founder, rule, consti-tutions, patrons, works, virtues, and achievements of the order. Many orders have writings by their founders which are similar to the Interior Spirit of the Religious of the Visitation (Newman Press, 1943). Having such a book at hand, the religious should .e.xamine it to ascertain what is essential and what is not. For exa-Kaple, the Religious of the Visitation might make a profitable study"by determining how they have applied 345 SISTER MARIA Review for Religio~ts and defined the thought of St. Francis de Sales and of' St. Jane Frances de Chantal through the centuries up to the present time. Janet Erskine Stuart has done such an analysis in her pamphlet The Society'-of the Sacred Heart. Her work exempli-fies a step in the historical development of the thought of the founders of her society. Today, perhaps, still another analysis might be made by her society. In such consideration of the historical development of the order and of the thought about the purpose and spirit of the order, what one is striving to learn is what is essential in the rule, in the customs, and in the formation and life of the given religious society. One wishes to discover what must be preserved when making recommended adaptations. .Painstaking research and thought are only preliminary steps. More is required than writing carefully docurrlented histories of the order. Study of the spirit of one's order should mean group discussion, perhaps .by the general chapter, per-haps by the newly appointed superiors, or by all superiors periodically. Such a study might even lead to inter-congre-gational discussi'on on points of rule and implementation of rule, especially bn matters that might concern several orders of similar work or characteristic virtues. The congresses and conferences (Vbcation Institute, Sister Formation gro~lp in th~ NCEA, the Sisters' Institute of Spir-ituality) i~Iready being held annually or moi'e frequently all show the value of inter-congregation discussion on specific topics of common interest. It might prove profitable, for example, for several congregatibns having St. Vincent de Paul as a patron or a founder to analyze together points from his writings that are a common source of inspiration. Perhaps orders dedicated to the Blessed Mother might consider how they each honor her in a particular way. Through such con-ferences of several or of many orders of similar work or ideal, 'it would seem that all might become more aware of how thi~y differ from and are similar to their fellow-congregations. Such 346 Novembe~', !9.58 PRELIMINARY TO ADAPTATION conferences would be of ben.efit if nothing ,more were accom-plished than a renewal of the religious spirit, the renovation which is 'being urged. /,~l.GreaTr and more precise knowledge oi the distinct per-sona tty or one's order should enable the individual order to foster with greater skill, then, the growth of this characteristic spirit by careful adaptation, by renovation through the means peculiar to its own development, and by a program of :forma-tion which would have greater likelihood of achieving its goal because the educators of the young religious would be better informed as to the characteristics they were seeking to cultivate in their students. Over-preoccupation with the spirit of one's own order, however, or over-emphasis on the thought of one's founder can 'give rise to certain evils. Members of an order might de-velop the wrong kind of loyalty to the order and to the founder, They might adhere too closely to the letter of his thought, rather than to the spirit of it. They might even adhere to the thought of the founder when the Church clearly indicates another course of action. An order's growth can be stifled by the "party spirit" which develops by exclusive clinging to the ideal of one's order as if there were only that one approach to the religious ideal. Such procedure keeps the "spirit" locked up in an ivory tower and does not permit it to. profit from the energizing influences that honest contrast with the ideals of other religious orders might give. Such contrast would bring out ever more distinctly the personality peculiar ,to one's order rather than distort it. This undue clinging to one's specific way of life leads to the wrong type of loyalty to one's order. As A. Trape, O.E.A.A. points out: The common good to the love of which, we are dedicated by religious profession is not the good of a monastery or a given order . . but the good of the Body of Christ which is the Church . 347 SISTER MARIA Review for Religion,s Greater unity and cooperation is to be fostered among religious families . The love therefore of one's own religious house or province; since ik has as object a particular good, though one com-mon to many persons, can be immoderate and can stand in the way or retard the more universal affection which is owed to the order or congregation and in this way the strength and unity of an order or congregation can be weakened. In the same way, but indeed in a. stronger sense, love toward one's own order or con-gregation can foster a certain party spirit and detract from the charity by which we are ordered to love the universal Church. {Acta, pp. 248-49) Another aspect of this undue respect for one's own ideal is a narrow holding to the letter of the founder's thought. As Canon Leclerq remarks, "By this fidelity to the letter of the law religious end by doing the reverse of what their founders wish . The happy milan is to be found in great fidelity to the spirit in which the orders were founded, combined with considerable flexibility as regards material forms;, such flexibility will be the product of detachment." (Leclerq, The Religious Vo-cation, pp. 64-66) .~. By applying too rigidly every minor prescription of the constitutions, religious would run ashoal on those difficulties against which the Pope and theologians advise when they rec-ommend adaptation. Religious (particularly superiors, councils, and chapters) ought to develop a habit of standing back and determining the general' principle the founder was applying to his given time and circumstances and then launch bravely forth to apply the same principle to their own times and needs regard-less of whether such application means one more hour of sleep daily than the founder prescribed, an annual vacation, a rather complete change of h oraril~m, or the abandonment of the diet and clothing which the founder thought suited to his century and purpose. Archbishop T. D. Rbberts, S.J., states a truth that the religious of our times must master: " 'Reform' is not heresy even when it faces boldly up to the truth that Our Holy Mother Foundress was not given by God to speak the last word of wis- 348 November, lg58 PRELIMINARY TO ADAPTATION dom for all times. Nobody ever was~-not even Our Holy Founder." (Black Popes, p. 40) A third evil to be guarded against in seeking to develop the spirit of one's order would be adherence to the founder's thought when the Church herself commends or even commands modification. Undoubtedly the prescription {after the pro-mulgation of the new Code of Canon Law) that all rules were to be submitted to the Sacred Congregation of Religious for re-examination brought changes in the rules of orders that had been living by those rules for centuries. Some of these modi-fications might not have seemed in line with the thought of the founder of the order, but it is to be remembered that the life of an order flows first from the Church to whom the founder and his followers turned for approval and recognition of what they believed to be inspired by the Holy Spirit. "Our subjection to the Church ought to be so great and of such a kind that we take away nothing from her, and cer-tainly not the owed reverence with which we observe all the holy rules," s,ays Father Lombardi, S.J. For these things, indeed, are rules for us riot because they were written by a certain holy man (because no one can impose rules on us in virtue of the fact that he is holy}; they" have the force of juridical norms and impose an obligation because they derive their force from the approbation of ecclesiastical authority. To this au-thority, then, which is a fountainhead of our obligations and which remains a living thing (whereas the holy founders are dead) we surely owe greater reverence than to any internal constitutions of our institutes. To this authority we should subject ourselves wholly in all things which concern the vow and we should do this according to the same contract by which we subject ourselves to Jesus, king of all saints. And finally, it is from this authority that we ought to look for a renewal, with courageous spirit, of all things which are necessary, when internal power is not strong enough to prev~.il. (Acta, p. 122) When one initiates a study of the spirit of one's order, one ought not fear these evils which spring from a wrong emphasis on the spirit of one's order, The purpose for deter-mining what this spirit is is to facilitate adaptation to the needs of our time and our world conditions. Such adaptation, judi- 349 SISTER MARIA [~iously ran.de according to the mind of the Church, would tend to free the order of the very errors to which the wrong kind of preoccupation about the spirit might lead. There is, indeed, reason today for the study, review, analysis, clarification, and understanding of what is meant by the spirit of one's orde.r: The changes of this century require adaptation and renovation. Out of loyalty to their founders, religious must heed the advice of Arcadius Larraona, C.M.F.: By doing today what they I the .foundersJ would do in our place, what they would do if they were living in our own times, we shall continue their work. They live; they have a right to live in us; and we have the'sacred obligation to carry on their work and to live in their spirit. (Larraona, C.M.F., Religious Community Life in the United States. Proceedings of the Men's Section of the First Na-tional Congress of Religious in the United States, pp. 232-35) By the spirit an" order lives. By careful adaptation and fervent renovation according to the spirit of the o~der, religious groups will meet the needs of oiar times. Such adaptation and renovation can be initiated by thorough study of the distinctive spirit of one's own order. MEDICO-MORAL PROBLEMS The Catholic Hospital Association announces that the series of booklets entitled Medico-Moral Problems, by Gerald Kelly~ s.J., have been revised and are now available in a single volume. The revision entailed dropping obsolete matter (e.g., on the Eucharistic fast), bringing all medical facts and opinions up to date, adding chapters on recently discussed topics (e.g., the use of hypnotism as an anesthetic}, supplying a list of pertinent papal documents, and com-posing a comprehensive index. The new volume--also entitled Medico-Moral Problems--in-cludes most of the moral principles and practical problems with which members of the medical profession, especially those associated with Catholic hospitals, should be familiar. The price is three dollars per copy, with discounts for quantity orders. The book, as well as information about it, can be obtained from: The Catholic Hospital Association, 1438 South Grand Boulevard, St. Louis 4, Missouri. 350 Survey Roman Documents R. F. Smith, S.J. [The following pages will give a summary of the documents which appeared in Acta Apostoiicae Sedis (AAS} during the months of June and July, 1958. Throughout the article all page references will be to the 1958 AAS (v. 50).] The Encyclical Meminisse luvat ON JULY 14, 1958 (AAS, pp. 449-59), the Holy Father issued the first encyclical that he has published during the current calendar year. Recalling that. it has always been his custom, as well as that of his predecesso~rs, to implore the help of the Virgin Mother of God at times when special dangers threaten the Christian people, His Holiness then pointe.d out that such a time or danger exists in the world today. For, as he remarked, we are living at a time when latent discord among the peoples o~ the earth holds the entire world in the grip of anxiety; and the tension is only increased by the fact that men have now discovered terrible weapons of destruction whicl~ can bring ruin not only to the vanquished but also to the conquerors and even to all of humanity. If, the Vicar of Christ continued, one searches the reasons for this state of affairs, it will be seen that the present situation exists because men have forgotten the authority of God and love for one another. These in turn .have been forgotten because men have ignored the Christian religion which alone teaches the fullness of truth, authentic justice, and divine love. Indeed in large sections of the world the Church is suffering cruel persecution. Bishops have been driven out, Catholic publications have been silenced, schools have been closed, mis-sionaries have been ~xpelled, and above all every attempt has been made to rupture the union of the local churches with the H01y See,0the source of all Catholic uni~y. 351 R. F. SMITH Rcvicw for Religioz~s ~. Just at$hle Pope added, Christians of apostolic times would join together in prayer for their brethren who were being per-secuted, so too today's Christians in Europe and the Far East who have so long endured persec.ution should not be deprived ,~,°f. the help and the prayers of their fellow Christians. Conse-quently the Holy Father asked that prior to the feast of the Assumption a novena be held during which all Catholics of the entire world should plead to God through the Blessed Virgin for the persecuted Christians of ,those regions. To these prayers Christians must also add a reform of life without which their words will never be pleasingto God. In this way, the Holyo Father concluded, Christians of today ivill once more manifest the truth of the words of the Letter to Diognetus: "Christians are in the flesh, but they do not live according to the flesh. They live on earth, but their true citizenship is in heaven. They obey the lairs which are promulgated, but by their way of life they surpass all such laws . " The Consistory of Cardinals In the issues of AAS considered in this survey may b~ found the proceedings (AAS, pp. 393-440) of tl~e first con-sistory of Cardinals held since May, 1954. The first session was a secret consistory held on June 9, 1958. At that session Cardi-nal Tisserant was made Camerario of the College of Cardinals, replacing Cardinal Ottaviani in that position. Two of the Car-dinals, Cardinal Mimmi and Cardinal Costantini, changed their eardinalatial churche~ in Rome. Afterwards the Holy Father published a list of all hierarchical appointments made since the last consistory; the appointments included 2 patriarchs, 123 arch-bishops, 635 bishops, 9 prelates nullius, and 1 abbot nullius. After the reading of these appointments and after His Holiness had confirmed the elections made by the synod of the Chaldean bishops as well as those made by the synod of the .Maronite bishops, the cardinals listened to a report from Cardinal Cicog-nani, Prefect of the Congregation of Rites, concerning the life and miracles of Blessed Charles of Setia and of Blessed ]uana 352 November, 1~58 ROMAN DOCUMENTS Joaquina de Vedruna de Mas. At the conclusion of the report each cardinal was asked to give his opinion on the possibility of canonizing the two blessed. The consistory closed after recently appointed archbishops had sul~mitted their petitions for the pallium. Immediately following the secret consistory, a public con-sistory was held on the same day; this session consisted in further consideration of the causes of the two blessed mentioned above. On June 16, 1958, a semipublic consistory was held. oHere the Holy Father asked the cardinals their considered opinion on the advisability of the canonization of the two blessed already men-tioned. Since all the cardinals favored the canonization of the two, the Pontiff closed the consistory by announcing his inten-tion of canonizing the two blessed on November 23, 1958. ¯ . Four Allocutions and a Message On April 28, 1958 (AAS, pp. 361-64), the Vicar of Christ delivered an allocution to the members of an Italian group interested in caring for orphaned children of the working class. After telling his listeners that the ideas of justice, of respect for each human, person, and of pity for the humble come from the gospel and not from the doctrines of materialism and individ-ualism, the Pope pointed out to his listeners that their work for orphans must be animated by an intense sentiment of charity, for orphans are in greater, need of the warmth of intimacy and goodness than they are of food and clothing; orphanages, he said, must be father, mother, brother, and sister to the orphan. The Pontiff concluded his talk by urging his listeners to continue their work, since already in the beginning of Christianity (James 1:27) it was noted that care for orphans is an important function of the Christian religion. On the Feast of St. Joseph the Worker,. May 1, 1958 (AAS, pp. 365-69), the Holy Father addressed an assembled group of 20,000 Italian workers. At the beginning of his allocution His Holiness thanked God for the happy changes 353 R. F, SMITH Review for Religion, s that have occurred in the world of labor during the last 100 years. A hundred years ago, he remarked, no one would have thought that there would exist in so many nations a working class equal in rights and dignity to the other classes of society. Similarly, too, a hundred years ago no one would have dreamed that one day troops of workers would be gatherdd around the Vicar of~ Christ to celebrate with him the day of labor in a Christian way. The Pope, went on to warn his listeners that whenever and wherever social reform has been attempted without Christ and against Christ, all the real rights and the true liberty of the worker have been lost; for solutions based on materialistic principles neglect that which is best and most important in the worker: his .soul and his eternal destiny. In the second part of his allocution Plus XII encouraged his listeners to continue their support of associations of Cath-o! jc workers, These associations in turn should provide the workers with everything that is necessary to perfect them as men, as workers, and as Christians. Moreover, such associa-tions of Catholic workers should assist their members in times of abnormal circumstances such as sickness. However, the Vicar of Christ concluded, the charity of such associations should not be restricted to their own members; rather it must extend to all men, especially to those other workers who, ~ssailed by a daily propaganda of hatred and violence, are exposed' ~to the danger of lo~sing their sense of human pity and their conception of the humlln race as one family. On May 16, 1958 (AAS, pp. 369-70), the Pope spoke tb the members of the NATO Defense College, expressing his regret ~it ~he stateof the world th~it forces them to teach alert-ness against attacks from other human beings and telling them to continues their work in the confident hope that the day will Come~ when protection and defense can be ensured with a m,mmum of force and~ when truth and justice are the guide p~bstg'-bf 'those who lead the peoples of the world. 35~4 November, 1958 ROMAN DOCUMENTS On May 21, I958 (AAS, pp. 370-73), the Holy Father addressed a group of Italian women engaged in giving spiritual assistance to the members of the armed forces of Italy. In the first part of his allocution, the Pontiff outlined the teaching of the Church with regard to war. The Church, he said, has never accepted the doctrine of those who maintain that power is the 0nly foundation of international relations. War, he said, is not the promoter of the highest masculine qualities nor is it the stimu-lator of fecund initiative, even if at times it is the occasion and catalyst for growth in science and technique. In short, war is not something that the Church regards as licit in every cir-cumstance. Nevertheless, the Church has never taught that war is always reprehensible, for under certain conditions a nation may justly take up arms to defend itself. The struggle between Cain and Abel, the Pontiff con-tinued, marked the beginning of the history of war. Since then the entire~history of mankind has been a history of wa'r, a history which culminates in the present time when war is a conflict between entire peoples and when every physical, mor~l, economic, and industrial force is utilized for the prosecution of war. It is for this reason, he added, that every nation today seeks an army proportioned to its needs, one that lacks nothing from the viewpoint of a strong, ready, and energetic defense of the country. The Pontiff Concluded this 'first'part of his allocution by telling his listeners that Italy too~has ~a right to such an army for defense, even though there is no doubt that Italy sincerely desires peace, In the second part of his .allocution the Pope gives his listeners warm encouragement.to continue their work of giving spiritual assistance to the members of the Italian armed forces, It is true, he admitted, that army life helps physical develop-ment and aids in self-assurance and mat~urity; nevertheless the life also presents many evils and moral dangers, which .may destroy in the soldier the divine life within him. ~Hence, he 355 R. F. SMITH Review for Religious added, one of the prime needs in the army is that of priests who have a profound knowledge of a soldier's life; accordingly chaplains for the armed forces should be chosen from among the best priests and then given every preparation that will train them for their work. In conclusion the Pontiff told his lis-teners that in their work they must take the place of mothers and sisters to the soldiers and pointed out to them the many opporunities they will have to save the faith of many of the soldiers as well as lead others of them into the Church. On June 10, 1958 (AAS, pp. 446-48), the Pontiff sent a written message to a Paris meeting of an international con-gress on family life. In the message he pointed out that a strong civic and social order must be based on a conception of marriage and of the family that is conformable to the order established by God. Consequently he urges the members of the congress to spare, no effort to achieve those conditions of a decent and happy family life in which the exigencies of morality are not sacrificed to the satisfaction of the individual. Other Documents By an Apostolic Constitution dated June 3, 1958 (AAS, pp. 460-64), the Holy Father announced the founding in Rome of a Pontifical Institute of Pastoral Work. The new institute, whose purpose it" is to foster the pastoral develop-ment of the diocesan and regular clergy, will be part of the Pontifical Lateran Institute and will provide two distinct courses of training. The first course, of one year duration, will be intended for the training of the ordinary priest in his future pastoral work; the second course will consist of a two-year program leading to a doctorate in sacred theology; this second course is intended for those who will be future teachers of pastoral theology. Statutes for the new institute are to be published later; the institute was placed by the Pontiff under the patronage of Our Lady, Queen of the .Apostles, and under 356 November, 1958 ROMAN DOCUMENTS that of two popes noted for their zeal tCor pastoral care: St. Gregory the Great and St. Pius X. In another apostolic constitution, this one dated June 10, 1957 (AAS, pp. 345-47), the Holy Father set up an Apostolic Exarchate in England and Wales for Ruthenians of the Byzantine rite living in England. Archbishop Godfrey of Westminster was made exarch of the group. On November 19, 1957 (AAS, pp. 386-88), the Sacred Congregation of Rites approved the introduction of the cause of the Servant of God, Mary Teresa Zonfrilli (1899-1934), professed member of the Congregation of the Daughters of Our Lady of Mount Calvary. On January 7, 1958 (AAS, pp. 388-90), the same congregation gave its approval to the two miracles necessary for the canonization of Blessed Charles of Setia (1613-1670), lay brother of the Order of Friars Minor. On March 28, 1958 (AAS, pp. 486-87), the congre-gation issued the decree that the'canonization of Blessed Charles could be safely proceeded with; under the. same date (AAS, pp. 488-89), it issued a similar decree with regard to the canon-ization of Blessed Juana Joaquina de Vedrur~a de Mas (1783- 1854), widow and foundress of' the Carmelite Sisters of Charity. On November 21, 1957 (AAS, pp. 375-83), the Sacred Congregation of the Consistory issued legisl'ation which hence-forth will govern the Apostolate of the Sea; the group, first approved by Pius XI, was founded in Glasgow to work for the spiritual, moral, and social welfare of maritime personnel. On January 23, 1958 (AAS, pp. 480-83), the same congregation issued a decree establishing a military vicariate in the Dominican Republic. A later decree of the congregation dated February 11, 1958 (AAS, p. 483), appointed Archbishop Pittini as the military vicar of the republic. 357 The ener l Ch p!:er ,Joseph I=. G~llen, ~.d. QUESTIONS AND CASES are frequently received on the general chapter. A complete article on this matter would be of prohibitive length. It would also be excessively de-tailed and technical. We believe that the practical purpose of such an article will be better attained by presenting the matter under the form of questions and cases. The following ques-tions are the third and last part of a series. VII. Counting Ballots 33. There were twenty-nine valid votes on the first balloting for the election of our mother general. Sister A received an absolute majority of fifteen votes and was therefore elected. However, if she voted for herself, her vote was invalid (c. 170), she did not receive an absolute majority, and consequently was not elected. Should we have done any-thing to make sure that she had not voted for herself? An invalid vote does not of itself invalidate an election or a balloting. The invalid votes are simply not counted in any way. An invalid vote does invalidate the election if it is certain that the person would not have attained the required number of votes without the invalid vote (c. 167, § 2). The only invalidating effect that can cause a practical difficulty is a vote for oneself. This difficulty occurs, as in the present case, when the election was decided by only one vote. Some institutes demand that each elector place an identifying symbol, chosen by himself, on his ballot, e. g., a cross, star, name of saint, etc. Another form of the same type obliges the elector to write his own name on~ the ballot or voting ticket, seal it within a fold, place his symbol within another sealed fold, and write his vote within the last sealed, fold. If the present case occurs, the one elected is obliged to identify his vote to the president and tellers to determine whether he voted for himself. In a few institutes, ~a,n added vqte is required when the one elected is a member 358 THEGENERAL CHAPTER of the chapter. Thus Sister A would not have been elected in the present case unless she obtained sixteen votes. Outside of a most fare exception, none of these forms is in use in lay institutes. The elector writes only the name of the person he votes for on the ballot and folds it. Therefore, Sister A cannot be obliged to identify her vote in the present case. The constitutions do not impose this obligation, and she is presumed to have acted rightly, not evilly. The election is to be held as valid, unless it is not merely probable but certain that she voted for herself, e. g,, from her own voluntary declaration. If she actually gave her secret vote to herself, all of her acts as mother general will be certainly valid, since canon 209 supplies also dominative power in com-mon error. However, she is obliged to refuse the election or to petition its sanation secretly from the Holy See. Cf. De Carlo, Jus Religiosorum, n, 137; Parsons, Canonical Elections, 163; Beste, Introductio in Codicem, 214. 34. What is the meaning of our constitutionsl which say of all elections that in a tie on the last balloting "the senior by first profession is elected, but in a parity of profession, the senior by age"? For example, I, Brother A, took my vows first in our profession band, but the one who took his vows immediately after me, Brothe~- B, is four yearsl older than I. If the two of us were tied on a last balloting, which would be elected? Brother B wo'uld be elected. The pertinent words of canon 101, § I, 1°, on this case are: "if the president does not wish to break the tie by his vote, that one is elected who is senior by first profession or by age." The constitutions of lay institutes practically never give the president the right of break-ing the tie in an election. Therefore, with the exception of this clause, your constitutions are the same. as the canonical norm of canon 101, § 1, 1°; but the sense of this canon is the day of profession and the day of birth, not the hour, minute, or second of profession or birth. The p~oof is as follows. 1'. From the usage in other canons. Canon 635 staCes that religious transferring from one monastery ~to~ another df the 359 JOSEPH F. GAI~LEN Review for Religion, s same institute lose all rights of theformer monastery and assume the rights and obligations of the latter from the day of the transfer. Canon 640, § 2, declares that a secularized religious who is readmitted into religion, assumes his seniority from the day of his new profession. The Code Commission replied that the precedence of a suffragan bishop in a pro-vincial council was to be determined from the day of his proclamation or election (Bouscaren, Canon Law Digest, I, 88). 2. From the nature of the matter. This canon gives a universal norm that is to settle ip.~o ]:ac/o and immediately a tie on the last balloting. Therefore, it is a norm that is uni-versally applicable, readily knowable, and applicable absolutely, not conditionally, e. g., seniority by age considered objectively is to break the tie, notif it is known who is the senior by age. From the nature of the matter, age is to be taken as the day', not the hour,, minute, or second, of birth. How many" know the hour or minute of their birth? How often is the hour or minute of birth noted even in ecclesiastical or civil records? If this is true of age, it is to be affirmed also of first: profession, since the two are expressed in a parallel manner in the canon. The same argument is verified for first profession considered ir~ itself. It is at least ordinarily possible to determine the order of professions of the same day in the province or institute that has only one novitiate, even though I, with many others, do not recall whether I was third or eighth in taking my first vows. However, the norm is universally applicable. If two religious who are tied made their first profession on the same day and in ceremonies that began at the same hour, but one in New York and the other in California, how could there be certainty of the minute ~at which each profession began? Did each Mass begin on time? What was the relative rapidity of the priests in saying Mass? What was the length of each sermon? How many institutes keep a record of the hour, minute, and second of each profession? 360 November, 1958 THE GENERAL CHAPTER 3. From the practice of the Holy See. In approving constitutions, the Sacred Congregation of Religious almost constantly words the canon: "if they made their first profession on the same day, the senior by age is elected." 4. From the. doctrine of authors. Practically no author has °adverted to the difficulty presented in this question, but the following at least implicitly affirm the solution given abovi~: Schaefer, De Religiosis, n. 258; Jone, Commentarium in Co-dicem Iuris Canonici, I, 114; Muzzarelli, De Congregationibus Iuris Dioecesani, 216, note 5 ; Parsons, Canonical Elections, 154; Bastien, Directoire Canonique, n. 48; Fanfani, De Religiosis, n. 366; Abbo-Hannan, The Sacred Canons, I, 156. The hour, minute, or second may be followed in other mat-ters for determining precedence; but in elections, except in the very few lay institutes that establish their own norm, the constitu-tions' are only stating canon 101, § 1, 1°, and must therefore be interpreted in the sense of this canonical norm. 35. What is the meaning Of this article of our ~constitutions on the elec. tion of the mother general: "If, when the ballots have been counted, it shall appear that-no-one of the sisters has received a majority of.the votes cast, they shall proceed to a second or third ballot; if then the required majority of votes should not yet have been obtained, a fourth ballot shall be taken in which only those two sisters have passive vote who on the third ballot had received the larger number of votes. If on the fourth ballot, an equal number of votes is given to both, the senior by profession or, if they are equal, the older in yeat~s shall be considered elected"? There is no doubt that the article is .obscure. An absolute majority is a number that in any way exceeds half the valid votes cast, even if by only a half vote, e. g., nine out of seventeen, ten out of eighteen. A relative majority is a number of votes for one person larger than for any of the others singly, although less than for all the others taken together, e. g., ii~ seventeen valid votes are cast and Sister' M. Agatha receives seven, Sister M. Bernice six, Sister M. Callista three, and Sister M. Damien one, Sister M. Agatha is elected on a balloting in 361 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious which a relative majority is decisive. Active voice is the right to vote in :a chapter; passive voice is the right to be elected ir~ a chapter. Passive "vote" in this article should be passive voice, and "senior by profession" should be "senior by first profes-sion." Therefore, the sense, of the article is that an absolute majority is required for an election on any of the .first. three ballotings. If an election has not resulted, a fourth and last balloting is to be held. 0nly the two sisters who had the highest number of votes in the third balloting can be voted for in this last balloting, i. e.,. they alone have passive voice. This article does not deprive these two sisters of active voice on the fourth balloting, as is now the universal p~actice of the Holy See in approving constitutions. Of the two, the sister who receives the larger number of votes on the fourth balloting is elected. If this balloting results in a tie, the sister who is senior by first professio~ is elected; if the two made their first profession on the same day, the senior by age is elected. 36. Our constitutions state of the elections of the general officials: if in neither the first ballot nor in the second ballot an absolute majority of votes is obtained, a relative majority will be di~cisive on the third ballot." Who is elected according to this norm when two or more are tied on the third ballot? The full canonical norm (c. 101, § !'~ l°)'is that the president of the election has the righ.t to decide the tie on the third balloting by his or her. vote; but, if he does not choose to do this, the tie is broken in a lay institute by seniority of first profession or by age. If your constitutions give the president this right in other elections, he has the same right here. If they do not, as is almost universally true in lay institutes, the president does not have this right; and the tie ig broken only by the day of first profession or the day of birth. 37. According to our constitutions, a tie on the fourth and last ballot-ing for the office of superior general is broken in this way: the older by first profession is elected superior general and in case the religious made their profession on the same day, the older in age is elected. The article for the elections of the general offcials states that a relative.majority is 362 November, 19~58 THE GENERAL CHAPTER sufficient on the third and last balloting but that, if there is a tie, the older in profession is elected. The latter article says nothing about age. Who is elected in the latter case when two or more religious are tied on the third balloting but all made their first profession on the same day? As in the preceding case, the second article has merely omitted part of the canonical norm. This is clear also from the fact that age is included in the first article. Therefore, the question of the tie is to be decided by the canonical norm of seniority by the day of birth. VIII. After the Election 38. The constitutions of our diocesan congregation of sisters say simply that the local ordinary has the right of confirming the election of the mother general. What is the meaning of this authority? In virtue of canon 506, § 4, the presiding local ordinary has the right of confirming the election of the mother general in diocesan congregations. Therefore, three things are required to complete the election in such a congregation, the required number of votes, acceptance, unless this is commanded by the constitutions, and the confirmation of the local ordinary. (a) Competent local ordinary. The right to confirm an election is the authority to ratify or rescind the election. Con-firmation appertains to the ordinary of the diocese in which the election is held, not to the ordinary of the motherhouse as such. The ordinary may delegate his power of confirming or rescinding the election, e. g., to the priest he has delegated to preside at the election. (b) Norm for giving ~:onfirmation. The general canon on elections, 177, § 2, enacts that the competent superior must give the confirmation if the election was legitimatdly performed and he judges the one elected qualified for the office, even if in his judgment this person is not the more or most qualified. However, canon 506, § 4, treats specifically of the right of the local ordinary to confirm or rescind the election of a mother general in diocesan congregations and describes this right as the 363 JOSEPH f. GALLEN Review for Religious authority to confirm or .rescind the. election according to his conscience," This last phrase has led many canonists to hold that the ordinary is given a wider power in this case than in the general canon, 177, § 2. In this opinion, the local ordinary may not licitly act on mere whim, human motives, or personal preferences, but only on reasons based on the common good of the congregation. This being"presupposed, he has the right of rescinding 'the election also if he judges that the more or most suitable person was not elected. Other canonists hold that the ordinary must conform to the general canon, 177, § 2, also in confirming the election of a mother general. The opinion grant-ing the ordinary the wider power is at least more probable, if not certain, from the clearly distinctive wording of canon 506, § 4. The right of confirmation and rescission is not a right of ap-pointing the mother general. If the ordinary refuses the con-firmation, the chapter proceeds to .a new election. (c) Confirmation of other elections. Canon law demands confirmation only for the election of the mother general of a diocesan congregation, not for that of any other religious superior or official. By the law of the constitutions, confirma-tion is required for the election of the superioress in some monasteries of nuns and usually the confirmation of the mother general wi~h the consent of her council is ne.cessary when the mother provincial and ihe provincial officials are elected in the provincial chapter. The competent superior for such a monas-tery is the local ordinary, if the monastery is subject to him, or the regular superior, if the monastery is subject to regulars. The confirmation in all such cases is to be given according to the general norm of canon 177, § 2. 39. The constitutions of our pontifical congregation give a form of words by which the local ordinary is said to confirm the election of the mother general. Is ~his in accord with canon law? The right of confirming an election is the authority to ratify or rescind it. In virtue of canon 506, § 4, the ordinary ot: the place of election has the right of confirming the election of 364 Novc~nbcr, 1958 THE GENERAL CHAPTER the mother general in diocesan congregations only. Canon law does not require confirmation for the election of any other religious superior or official. It is true that confirmation can be demanded by the law of th~ particular constitutions, e. g., in the case of the election of the superioress in some monasteries of nuns. However, the Holy See does not grant the local ordinary the right of confirmation in approving the constitutions of pontifical congregations. Furthermore, the constitutions in question contain no article granting this extraordinary right to the local ordinary. Therefore, ~the word "confirm" in these constitutions is to be interpreted as a wide use for the accurate word "proclaim," i. e., when an election has resulted, the president of the chapter announces this fact and the name of the one elected (c. 174). Cases of such a wide use of "confirm" are found in other documents of the Holy See and in authors. Cf. Battandier, Guide Canonique, n. 382. 40. The president at the election of our mother general was a priest. delegated by the local ordinary. At the end of the first balloting, the president proclaimed the election, i. e., announced that an election had resulted, with the name of the one elected (c. 174). He did not an-nounce how many votes this sister had received, whether other sisters had received any votes, nor obviously the number of votes received by such other sisters. 1. Was this omission of the president contrary to canon law and thus illicit? 2. Was the election thereby invalid? This question has been proposed several times and has already been answered in the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. On this occasion, we shall strive to be more complete, even though this implies a cumbersome burden of citations. There is no doubt whatever that the omission of the president was contrary to canon 171, § 2, and therefore objectively illicit. This canon commands that the names of all voted for and the number of votes each received must be announced in every balloting ("palamque faciant quot quisque retulerit"). The canon per-mits that the announcing be done in either of two ways, i. e., the vote on each.ballot, or voting ticket or slip, is announced to the capitulars or the names of all voted for and the total 365 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review ]or Religious received by each are announced only at the end of the balloting. It is much better and is the usual custom to announce the votes in both ways. The further question can be and is now again asked whether an election is invalid (1) if the numbe~ of votes received by the elected candidate is not published to the capitu-lars or (2) the number of votes received by the other candidates is not so published. Most authors do not even mention in-validity with regard to either case in their explanation of the pertinent canon, 171, § 2. Most also implicitly deny invalidity, because they list the causes of the invalidity of elections without including either of these cases. (Schaefer, De Religiosis, n. 527; De Carlo, Jus Religiosorum, n. 150; Vermeersch-Creusen, Epitome Iuris Canonici, I, n- 288; Fanfani, De Religiosis, n. 116; .Pruemmer, Manuale Iuris Canonici, q. 79; Bouscaren-Ellis, Canon Law, 127; Claeys Bouuaert-Simenon, Manuale Juris Can-onici, I, n. 331; Brys, Juris Canonici Compendium, I, 263; Sipos, Enchiridion Iuris Canonici, 129; Geser, Canon Law Governing Communities of Sisters, n. 341) Some deny or doubt the in-validity in these two cases. (Vermeersch-Creusen, 0p. cir., n. 293, 2; Jone, Commentarium in Codicem Iuris Canonici, I, 177; Ellis, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 8-1949-159-60) Therefore, there exists no common opinion of authors that invalidity is verified in either case. Furthermore, several of the authors who maintain invalidity express themselves so obscurely that it is difficult to understand what they mean by the publication they require for validity. Goyeneche, Quaestiones Canonicae, I, 50-51; Coronata, Institutiones Iuris Canonici, I, 278-79; Creusen, Religious Men and Women in the Code, n. 76; Parsons, Canoni-cal Elections, 151-52, 200; and Lewis, Chapters in Religious Institutes, 127, affirm invalidity at least with regard to the first case. Their first argument is that publication of the votes is an essential element of a canonical election. This argument is not certain, since it is admittedly difficult to ascertain what are the essential elements of an election in the code. The second argu- 366 November, 1958 THE GENERAL CHAPTER ment is that the code is here merely reassuming the law before the ~code, which demanded publication for validity. This argument al~o is not certain. Canon 171, § 2, does not: state expressly that. publication of the votes is required for the validity of .a balloting. If the intention was to reassume the former law, i~ seems strange that an invalidating clause was not expressed in the canon, as it is in so many of tl~e other canons on elections, e. g.~ 162, §§ 3, 5; 165; 166; 167, § 2; 169; 170; 171, § 3; 172, §§ 2-3; 1.76, § 3; 181, § 2. There-fore, since there is a doubt of law about invalidity in both cases, all such elections are valid (c. 15). 41. The constitutions of our pontifical congregation contain the follow-ing ~rticle: "In the ordinary chapter, the mother general going out of office shall act as mother vicar until the elections have lawfully taken place." Isn't she out of office entirely as soon as the election of the new mother general is' completed and before the elections of the four councilors, the secretary general, and the bursar general? Yes. The wording of your constitutions follows the Normae of 1901, article 225. The sense, however, is that expressed in the question, i. e., the mother general loses all title to the office, also as mother vicar, on the completion of the election of the mother general. The election is completed in a pontifical congregation by the attaining of .the requisite number of votes and acceptance, or by the former alone if acceptance is imposed by the particular law of the institute, and in diocesan congregations ~ of women by the added ~equisite of the confirmation of the ordinary 'of the place of election (cc. 174-77; 506, § 4). This interpretation is otherwise evi-dent from your constitutions, since the newly elected mother general immediately assumes her office by presiding at the elections that follow and at the chapter of affairs. The retention and prolongation of the office under the title of vicar is to take care of the case of an election delayed beyond the expiration of the term of the present mother gen-eral and of a suspension of the chapter. This occurs when 367 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious the choice of the chapter is of one who cannot be elected but only postulated as mother general, i. e., because of a lack of the age, years of profession, or legitimacy required by canon 504, or an election beyond the number of terms permitted by the constitutions. The postulation for the last impediment in a diocesan institute is addressed to the ordinary of the place of election; but in all other cases, whether the institute is pon-tifical or diocesan, it must be made to the Holy See (c. 181, § 1). In a postulation for the office of mother general, the chapter is suspended until notification is received of the accep-tance or rejection of the postulation. A suspension can also occur in a diocesan institute of women when the confirmation of the local ordinary is delayed. It is better to word the con-stitutions that all elective officials retain their offices until the election to the same office is completed in the following chap-ter. Cf. Normae pro Constitutionibus Congregationum Iuris Dioe.cesani a S. C. de Propaganda Fide De.pendentium, aa. 142, 153. IX. Chapter of Affairs 42. The constitutions of our pontifical congregat.ion, of brothers state with regard to the chapter of affairs: "All these matters are decided by an absolute majority of secret votes." A secret vote takes more time, and I see no reason for secrecy in many of the matters that uniformly come before a chapter of affairs. The practice of the Holy See in approving constitutions demands secret voting in the chapter of affairs. This voting may be done by a method such as black ~ind white beans. It is admitted doctrine that the voting need not always be secret. If the matter is of little importance or the discussion has made it clear that there is little opposition, the voting may be public, e. g., by rising or raising the hand. A capitular may always request a secret vote on such a matter. If so, the superior general will put this question to a vote. If the absolute majority by a public vote, e. g., rising or raising the hand, favors a secret vote on the matter, this must be had; otherwise, the voting 368 Novcmber, 1958 THE GENERAL CHAPTER will be public. A few pontifical constitutions ordain that the voting is always to be public, with the exception of the request for secrecy described above. It is difficult to see why a secret vote should be generally prescribed for the chapter of affairs. There is no general reason for secrecy in the matters listed in the practice of the Holy See as the more important affairs of this chapter. 43. What is the duration of the ordinances of a chapter of.affairs in lay institutes? In constitutions, the acts of the chapter of affairs are variously termed ordinances, enactments, regulations, decrees, and decisions. According to the practice of the Holy See, the ordinances of a chapter in lay institutes are temporary. The Normae of 1901 stated that the ordinances of the general chapter remained in force until the next chapter (a. 250). In its present practice, the Sacred Congregation of Religious states that these ordinances remain in force until the next general chapter, in which they may be confirmed, modified, or abrogated. The temporary character of the ordinances has therefore beeia imposed by the Holy See in the approval of constitutions; it does not certainly follow from the nature of such ordinances nor from canon 24. To avoid any difficulty, the superior general should propose a declaration that all the acts of past chapters are confirmed by the present chapter except insofar as they will be or have been modified or abrogated by this chapter. The temporary character of the ordinances does not demand an explicit confirmation for their continuance; an implicit or tacit confirmation suffices. If a previous general chapter has approved so important a measure as a directory, the sum of the dowry, or the extraordinary expenses for which local superiors must recur to higher superiors and the subsequent chapter omits all action on the matter, it is the implicit or tacit will of this chapter that such a measure is confirmed. Van Hove states this principle as follows: "Many ordinances enacted from dominative power continue to exist on the cessation from office 369 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious of the superior who established them, because they are implicitly renewed by his successor, who is presumed to intend that the customary order in a community continue to be observed until he changes it" (De Legibus Ecclesiasticis, I, n. 359, note 4; cf. Jone, C0mmentarium in Codicem Iuris Canonici, I, 46). Furthermore, from the practice of religious institutes, it is the presumption that all existing acts of previous chapters are implicitly or tacitly confirmed by a later chapter except those that it changes or abrogates. 44. Do monasteries of nuns have a chapter of affairs after the elections? A chapter ~f affairs is held more frequently and separately from elections in monasteries of nuns, since the chapter in such an institute has a vote in several matters that appertain solely to a higher superior and her council in a centralized institute. These matters vary in different constitutions, e. g., the alienation of property and the contracting of debts, admission of an aspirant into the enclosure, admission of a religious from another institute or monastery, admission to the novicesl~ip and pro-fessions, the declaration of fact fo~ an ~/~so faclo dismissal, the erection or suppression of a school, and other important matters of the monastery. A chapter of affairs is consequently held after the elections only if any such matters are to be discussed at the time. 45. Are higher superiors obliged to obey the enactments of the general chapter? Evidently. The general chapter is the supreme authority within the institute. Book Reviews [Material for this department should be sent to Book Review Editor, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, West Baden College, West Baden Springs, Indiana.] MERCY UNTO THOUSANDS. By Sister M. Bertrand Degnan, R.S.M. Pp. 394. The Newman Press, Westminster, Maryland. 1957. $6.50. Sister M. Bertrand began collecting data fo~ Mercy unto Thou-sands in 1945. The years of study, labor, and research have pro- 370 November, 1958 BOOK REVIEWS duced a masterpiece. This book is at once very scholarly and very interesting. The life of Mother McAuley is so well told, in fact, that the vast amount of research into primary sources is almost forgotten till one begins to study the references. Such scholarship and appeal are two qualities often sought, but seldom so well achieved. As the author traces the life of Mother McAuley, the Divine Providence which guided her life b~comes more clearly delineated at each step of her career. At least in its major aspects, God's plan for Catherine McAuley was clear to her religious superiors, if not entirely clear to Catherine ~erself. That a religious order should be the logical consequence of the charitable work of Mercy House on Baggot. Street, Dublin, seemed to be clear to everyone but Cath-erine. And that the order, once founded, should spread so rapidly was hardly strange. In fact, given the time, place, and other cir-cumstances it would have been strange had the order not so developed. For Mother McAuley was dedicated above all to doing" God's work. Her surrender of all her time, wealth, and talents to God, made her a perfect instrument in His hands. So step by step He l.ed her to the accomplishment of a great work--the foundation and propagation of the Sisters of Mercy. The gifts and talents of Mother McAuley were rare. Sound-ness of practical judgment, ability in financial matters, intellectual acumen, grace of manner, and perseverance, to mention but a few of her qualities, marked Catherine McAuley as a woman destined for success. Many of these talents, of course, found their fulfillment and perfection in the supernatural order. For the charity, humility, and patience of this great woman were exercised to a degree seldom achieved in the life of a religious. But the outstanding natural gift of Mother McAuley was her exceptional charm. Her letters, poems, talks, and conversations portray an attractive person. Her ready wit must have supplied many pleasant hours for the sisters in the recreation room. For Mother McAuley's irrepressible optimism and humor always gave her a glimpse of the bright side of life even in her darkest moments. The tenderness and warmth with which she treated the other sisters manifested a woman with an extremely affectionate heart. But she could scold when the occasion demanded it. Her corrections, how-ever, were always temperate; and offense was never given. In sh, ort, this is the life of a very attractive and charming religious very attractively written. Mother McAuley could not be 371 BOOK REVIEWS Review for Religio~cs better presented or represented than she has been in Mercy unto Thousands.--J. M. KUNTZ, S.J. PHILIPPINE DUCHESNE, Frontier Missionary of the Sacred Heart, 1769.1852. By Louise Callan, R.S.C.J. Pp. 805. The Newman Press, Westminster, Maryland. 1957. $8.00. This life is, as it should be, a monumental work; for it deals with an epic theme. Its story begins about the time of the fall of one nation and ends about the time of the rise of another with the life story of a heroine filling the interval. Mother Callan has laid Catholic readers under an undying obligation for her scholarly yet simple presentation of a heroic woman and dauntless religious facing the rigors of frontier life in the American midwest in the first half of the 19th century, with no other purpose than to make known the glory of the Heart of Jesus. The volume is largely made up of Philippine Duchesne's correspondence with her friend and religious superior, Mother Barat, with the members of her family, and with religious and ecclesiastics with whom her zeal brought her into contact. There is hardly a page in this large book without some extract from Philippine's correspondence. Mother Callan has woven this cor-respondence into her text to illustrate it and carry it forward, with the result that it is largely Philippine who tells her own story, and does so magnificently. The letters themselves are very interesting, but they are never introduced for themselves, and the reader is never aware that the story being told is arrested or delayed in its progress. Mother Duchesne was in fact no ordinary letter-writer, where she describes the angry moods of the Atlantic as she crosses it, the picturesque banks of the Mississippi as she ascends it, or the dirt and muck of a Missouri farmyard as she trudges through it. The pictures come alive and tell us as much of the writer as of the subject of her writing. One cannot help being deeply impressed by the dogged per-sistence in the face of difficulties, discouragement, and even of opposi-tion shown by Mother Duchesne in the pursuit of her purpose, the salvation of souls through devotion to Christ's own Heart. This she never lost sight of. Lack of means, lack of help, lack of interest on the part of others never deterred her. Poverty, frequently grinding, only opened up new resources of courage. Even failure could not stop her. In fact, her life seems to have been one succession of failures, from her first attempt at religious life which was cut short in her girl-hood by the French Revolution, down to her belated excursion to the 372 November, 1958 BOOK REVIEWS Potawatomi in her old age. She had come to teach the Indians the way to God, and the only Indians she met were converts of many years. She had come to a land where the language was other than her own, a language which baffled all her attempts to master it; and when she could not teach, she stitched and sewed and mended. One foundation after another was given up; and she moved from place to place, always beginning anew, until she came to spend her final and fail-ing years at St. Charles, on the banks of the Missouri, where she had begun her work--reluctantly, since she found no place awaiting her in St. Louis where she had hoped to be established. Behind this unalterable courage and determined will, there was a tender heart. One marvels at the strength of the affection she shows for those she loves, and she loved nearly all she met. Remark-ing on the lack of letters from France with news of her loved ones, she exclaims: "There is not a single religious from France in the community here. But we meet at the s~ime center--the Heart God . " She loves solitude, but there is a note of poignant loneli-ness in this cry from the heart. There was much she met in the pioneer society that repelled her. If we remember that she was of gentle birth, had known the refine-ment and culture of 18th century France, we can better understand the revulsions she must have felt for the coarseness she met with in the society of the frontier. In her letter to her cousin Josephine, she recalls: "Those happy evenings in Grandmother's house; the simple but charming dinners on Sunday--and those on Monday; the presents given out gradually to each of the younger children. All this comes to my mind. Those happy days in the big family were surely prefer-able to the prdud disdain, the indifference, the affected languor, by which people think they make themselves important and attractive. I continue to live in the same convent a peaceful retreat suited to my age and tastes. My thoughts are often with you and about you, for you are so dear to my heart." The proud disdain, the indifference, the affected languor--simple religious as she was, she was shrewd enough to penetrate the shallow shell of sophistication in the society about her and expose its essential pride. Philippine was no gloomy ascetic, although she was of a naturally seri6us disposition. "Yet she was," as Mother Jouve, a niece, testi-fied, "always joyous and animated at the community recreaSons or when religious came for little visits with her in her room." She had severe interior trials to undergo, but these she kept entirely to herself. She could spend long and happy hours before the Blessed Sacrament, 373 BOOK REVIEWS Review for Religious and she was never more pleased than when she was allowed to live in close proximity to the chapel. Her life had become completely and perfectly integrated in God, "because' she realized," as Mother Callan tells us, "with astonishing clarity that He is first, and also last~Alpha and Omega--and that between Him and all else in the universe, there is, there can be, no comparison." However else she failed, in this she succeeded supremely: she loved God with a consuhaing devotion and her neighbor with a tire-less affection.~WILLIAM J. YOUNG, S.J. THE TEMPTATIONS OF CHRIST. By Gerald Vann, O.P., and P. K. Meagher, O.P. Pp. 127. Sheed and Ward, New York 3. 1957. $2.75. The climate of modern opinion, abetted by the word of Freud and others, may well influence Christians to think that the devil's day is over. Fathers Vann and Meagher show conclusively that Satan's neatest trick is this widespread disbelief in him. Why was Christ tempted? The authors believe that Christ saw Satan for the shrewd opponent that he is and went forth eagerly to confront him, thus giving us an example of how to cope with tempta-tion and also exposing the devil's wiles at t~ieir roots. The book is a psychologico-ascetical study; reading it cannot fail to improve one's understanding of the un.derlying "predominant passions" which rise to the surface of everyday life in such myriad forms. The authors first point out that we should not expect to be free from temptations--such perfectionism is already unconscious pride. They then show how Satan waits his chance to attack us when we are weakest and where we are most vulnerable. It is a discerning person who does not allow himself to be so wasted away by fasts and penances that he falls easy prey to the schemes of the Prince of Darkness. Going through the three temptations individually, the authors show a deep knowledge of "what is in man" as they analyze the appeal of the °devil in each situation. Thus they take the temptation to turn stones into bread as an indication of the desire for that sense of security which an abundance of resources can provide, making it difficult even to wish to be poor in spirit. The "perils of the pinnacle" .is a temptation highlighting man's excess of trust in himself; it shows how many think they avoid "immorality" by skirting sexual sins only to be heedless of such things as calumny, cruelty, bitterness, and pride. 374 November, 1958 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS The third temptation brings into the open the thread underlying this entire episode in our Lord's life. Satan's implication is that God is a poor provider and that the devil himself will give us prosperity and glory. And that indeed is the case--unless one takes a long-range view' beyond the frontiers of the immediate here and now. The book is more than a description of a scene from the life of Christ; it is a profound introspective study of what lies behind much of man's action. As such it cannot fail to give better knowledge of oneself and of the ways of the devil.--R.~LeH J. IL~ST~A~, S.J. BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS THE BRUCE PUBLISHING COMPANY, 400 North Broadway, Milwaukee 1, Wisconsin. Fathering-Forth. By John H. McGoey, S.F.M. A book by a priest for priests. In it Father McGoey evaluates what he has learned of the life of a priest both from personal experience and from observation. He has many a criticism to offer, but they are all of the constructive kind. Priests will find much matter for serious consideration in these pages. Pp. 188. $3.50. DAUGHTERS OF ST. PAUL, 50 St. Paul's Avenue, Jamaica Plain, Boston 30, Massachusetts. Glories and Virtues of Mary. By the Very Rev. J. Alberione, S.S.P., S.T.D. Translated by Hilda Calabro. The book is divided into three paits. The first deals with the glories of Mary; the second, with the virtues of Mary; and the third, with devotion to Mary. Each chapter concludes with some striking incident in the lives of great men and women illustrative of their deep devotion to the Mother of God. The book is well illustrated with full page reproductions of famous masterpieces. Pp. 251. Cloth $3.00. Paper $1.50. Mary, Mother and Model. Feasts of Mary. By the Very Rev. James Alberione, S.S.P., S.T.D. Translated by Hilda Calabro. The Roman Missal contains thirty-seven Masses in honor of our Lady. Not all of them are for the universal Church. Thirty of these feasts are considered in this volume and presented as meditations. At the end of each meditation there is a commentary on the cor-responding Mass of the Missal. The book is illustrated with full page reproductions of photographs of famous paintings or statues of our Lady. Pp. 237. Cloth $3.00. Paper $1.50. 375 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS Review for Religious Religious Life. Life of Courageous Souls. Extracts from Medi-tations and Conferences of the Very Rev. James Alberione, S.S.P., S.T.D., to the Religious of his Five Congregations. Compiled and translated from the Italian hy the Daughters of St. Paul. This is an excellent introduction to the religious life and a notable con-tribution to vocation literature. Pp. 107. Cloth $2.00. Paper $1.00. MESSRS. M. H. GILL & SON, 50 Upper O'Connell Street, Dublin, Ireland. The Story of the Hospitallers of St. John of God. By Norbert McMahon, O.S.J.D. In the United States this order of brothers dedicated to serve the sick poor is little known. Yet they have a tradition and history of heroic achievements in many parts of the world which only God can reward. How many martyrs of charity have died in their ranks we shall know only on the last day. During the civil war in Spain, ninety-eight Hospitaller Brothers were brutally massacred by the Reds out of hatred for religion. Yet despite their heroic achievements, their history is one of great trials and much persecution. More than once the order was all but extinct, only to rise again more vigorous than before. Perhaps their greatest trial came from the Holy See itself. Four days after his election, Pope Clement VIII published a bull which took from the Hospitaller Brothers their status as a religious order. The brothers were de-prived of their three vows of religion. They were to serve the sick in the hospitals as lay nurses under obedience to the local bishop. But Divine Providence watched over them. Today, after four-hundred years of existence, they have 209 houses, almost all of them hospitals, and 2,464 religious. You will want to read all about these athletes of charity. Pp. 187. 16/-. Ideals to Live By. Some of the Principles Which Moulded St. Ignatius Loyola. By Robert Nash, S. J. This is the latest book from the prolific pen of Father Nash. He wrote it with lay Catholics chiefly in mind. It is about the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius and makes suitable reading, either public or private, for times of retreat. Pp. 175. Paper 8/6. Cloth 12/6. B. HERDER BOOK COMPANY, 15-17 South Broadway, St. Louis 2, Missouri. The Three Degrees. A study of Christian Mysticism. By Conrad Pepler, O.P. A knowledge of mysticism can be very useful to all who lead an interior life. For the director of souls it is at times necessary. 376 November, 1958 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS Father Pepler offers a brief but sound introduction to this most diffi-cult subject and does so in language which the modern reader can understand. Unless you are already an expert in mystical theology, you can learn much from this little book. Pp. 256. $3.50. Introduction to the Philosophy of St. Thomas Aquinas. Vol. II, Cosmology. By H. D. Gardeil, O.P. Translated by John A. Otto, Ph.D. This is the second volume of a four volume set. The purpose of this volume is "to give a true account of Aristotle's understanding.of the physical world, and mainly of its philosophical content, the abiding feature of his study." Pp. 218. $3.75. P. J. KENEDY & SONS, 12 Barclay Street,-New York 8, New York. Autobiography of St. Th~r~se of Lisieux. Translated by Ronald Knox. When L'Histoire d'une Ame first appeared, it had been edited to suit the canons of that day. The editing consisted in changing the chronological order, omitting about one fourth the whole, and making many changes in the text. All these edi-torial changes have now been eliminated, and we have the manu-script as it left the pen of the saint. It is this reconstructed manu-script that Father Knox has translated for English readers. In its light the heroic virtues of St. Th~rSse are more brightly illumined, and we get a better and a truer picture of the saint. Pp. 320. $4.50. THE MESSENGER PRESS, Carthagena, Ohio. Bought at a Great Price. Reflections on the Precious Blood. By Mother Mary Aloysi Kiener, S.N.D. If you are looking for a book of meditations to help you along the way of affective prayer, you would do well to examine Bought at a Great Price. There are thirty-two meditations, each divided into two parts. The average length of each meditation is eight pages. Pp. 271. $3.50. THE NEWMAN PRESS, Westminster, Maryland. A Manual for Novice Mistresses. Edited by Albert Pl~, O.P. Translated by Patrick Hepburne-Scott. This is volume nine in the "Religious Life Series." In content it is a selection of the more important papers read at a conference of French Dominican novice mistresses. The book dealg concisely with many of the major prob-lems which confront a mistress of noviceg in any order or congre-gati6n. Pp. 152. $3.25. The Christian Approach to the Bible. By Dom Celestine Char-lier. Translated from the French by Hubert J. Richardson and 377 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS Review for Religious Brendan Peters. 'Through the Bible God speaks to men on matters concerning man's salvation. It is therefore the most important book. Yet it is not an easy book to read. Fruitful reading pre-supposes certain intellectual, moral, and religious dispositions. These the author would help his readers to acquire. He does not write for experts but for the average Christian, who, no less than his learned brother, is to draw from the. Bible power to transform his life. Pp. 298. $4.00. Valiant Heralds of Truth. Pius XII and the Arts of Communi-cation. Compiled with a Commentary by Rev. Vincent A. Yzer-mans. The most authoritative source for a Catholic philosophy of the communication arts is our Holy Father, Pius XII. He has written and spoken on this subject frequently, and the compiler has gathered all these utterances between the covers of one volume. Pp. 201. $3.75. Christian Perfection and Married Life. By J. M. Perrin, O.P. Translated by P~ D. Gilbert. To show how perfection can be achieved in the married state is the purpose of the author. Marriage counselors, directors of Cana conferences, and priests engaged in the ministry will find here much valuable material. Pp. 92. $1.95. A Father Faber Heritage. Selections from the Writings of Rev. Frederick William Faber. Edited with an Introduction by Sister Mary Mercedes, S.N.D., de Namur. Father Faber of the Oratory was one of the outstanding spiritual writers of the nine-teenth century, and one who achieved a notable measure of well-deserved popularity. T

Issue 16.5 of the Review for Religious, 1957. ; A. M. D. G. Review for Religious SEPTEMBER 15, 1957 God's Living Sermon . Bonaventure Balsam Dismissal in Lay Institutes . Jo,eph g. ~,allen Our Supernatural Organism . Daniel J. M. Callahan Book Reviews Questions and Answers Roman Documents VOLUME 16 NUMBER 5 RI::VII:::W FOR RI:LIGIOU.S VOLUME 16 SEPTEMBER, 1957 NUMBER, 5 CONTENTS GOD'S LIVING SERMON AND MYSTERY-- Bonaventure Balsam, O.P . 257 DISMISSAL OF RELIGIOUS IN LAY INSTITUTES-- Joseph F. Gallen, S.J . 265 SOME BOOKS RECEIVED . 292 OUR SUPERNATURAL ORGANISMu Daniel J. M. Callahan, S.J . 293 OUR CONTRIBUTORS . i99 SURVEY OF ROMAN DOCUMENTS--R. F. Smith, S.J . 300 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS: 29. Professed of Temporary Vows and Return to Motherhouse for Perpetual Profession . " . '.309 30. Adaptation and Renovation and New Laws on Poverty . 310 31. Last Gospel According to the Simplified Rubrics .312 32. Masses. Permitted on the Saturday of Our Lady . 312 33. Personal Gifts and Poverty . 312 BOOK REVIEWS AND ANNOUNCEMENTS: Editor: Bernard A. Hausmann, S.J. West Baden College West Baden Springs, Indiana . 313 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, September, 1957. Vol. 16, No. 5. Published bi-monthly by The Queen's World, 3115 South Grand Blvd., St. Louis 18, Mo. Edited by the Jesuit Fathers of St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approval. Second class mail privilege authorized at St. Louis, Mo. Editorial Board: Augustine G. Ellard, S.J.; Gerald Kelly, S.J., Henry Willmering, S.J. Literary Editor: Robert F. Weiss, S.J. Copyright, 1957, by The Queen's Work. Subscription price in U.S.A. and Canada: 3 dollars a year; 50 cents a copy. Printed in U.S.A. Please send all renewals and new subscriptions to: Review for Religious, 3115 South Grand Boulevard. St. Louis 18, Missouri. God's Living Sermon and Myst:ery Bonavent:ure Balsam, O.P. WE CANNOT LOVE, reverence, and respect what we do not know: A religious priest, brother, or sister will never love and appreciate his life and vocation as much as it is lovable unless he first sees and tastes the indescribable nobility of that vocation. We begin to evaluate a thing rightly only when we begin to see it, to understand it, rightly. Misguided love follows on misguided and false knowledge, detestation often follows on the footsteps of ignorance. To a very great extent, the intensity' and scope of our love will depend on the genuineness and grasp of our knowledge. All religious preach God. They do so, not so much by word of mouth as by their whole life. Their preaching--and this is the judgment of the great minds of the Church- since it is by action, can make a far deeper and more lasting im-pression on the world than any or all the sermons preached in Notre Dame Cathedral. For religious are their own sermon and their own cathedral. In preparing and preaching .their sermon to the world, they must study, not so much the spoken word, as the far more powerful and vocal deed. If .we could summarize in a few words the influence which it is the role of a religious to have on the world about him, it is this: it is his vocation in life to teach the whole world this v~ery important lesson, "We have here no lasting city, but we look for 6ne which is to come." By their life, religious must preach that lesson to the world. It is the holy and privileged task of every religious to make the world unworldly, to teach the world to be divine, and to lift up the mind and heart of the world to God in one great offertory. The vocation of a religious is brought home to him every day in the Preface of 257 BONAVENTURE BALSAM. Review for Religious the Mass; he is to lift up the heart of the world to God in love, "Sursum Corda.'" And where a religious does not find love, he must see to.it that God puts love there. As St. John of the Cross says: "~ 'here there is no love, you must put love." To preach that sermon with its double element of detachment from the world and clinging to God is the vocation, par rxcellence, of every religious brother and sister. In a special way, and by special right, religious can apply to themselves the words of the same St. John: "The life of every religious sho~,ld be a complete doctrinal sermon." The life of every religious is one continuous paradox, a divine anomaly. Religious must love the whole world and everyone in it; yet they must ceaselessly try to keep it dis-satisfied with itself, discontented. Their life is one of opposi. tion to the spirit of the world and its maxims, one of constant disagreement and protest. That is a most unenviable task; and, like all opposition and protest, it brings with it much enmity and misunderstanding. That is why the-world often and in many ways misunderstands religious and scorns them. That is why, too, religious sometimes misunderstand them-selves and their role in the salvation of the world. In walk-ing down the street, every step a religious takes is a sort of step of protest, of admonition. He protests to the world and warns it that the glitter and tinsel meeting the eyes on all sides are all too ephemeral and passing and petty and that the only One worth living for and loving with every fibre of one's being is God. The way that they teach this to the world which they live in, but away from, is a most efficacious one. Religious preach to the world by the daily living of their vows which make their life unearthly because heavenly. By their vow of poverty religious lecture on the unending wonders of divine Providence. They lecture on that subject though they may never actually utter a word about it; they do not have to, for they live their subject. By the mere fact that they have freely and gladly relinquished all claim and aspira- 258 September, 1957 GOD'S LIVING SERMON tion to this world's goods, religious proclaim to the world that they trust in God's divine providence with an unshakeable confidence and that "possessing nothing, they have all things." For they have learned to "cast your care upon the Lord, who cares for you." Religious daily experience the truth of St. Paul's words: "As needy though enriching many; as having nothing and possessing all things." By that childlike confi-dence in divine Providence, a confidence solidified andmade a very part of their life and reridered inamissible, as it were, by their vow of poverty, religious take at face value the loving promise of our Lord that, if God is ever careful to feed the birds of the air and clothe the grass of the fields, will He not take infinitely greater care of a religious who is of much more value than they and the rest of the material universe combined? Moreover, by their vow of poverty religious te.ach a materialistic world an important lesson in divine economics, for they teach the world a proper sense of values, a divinely wise and exact evaluation of all creation. Religious appraise things for what they are--and are not--and proper ap-praisal of a thing is indispensable for its true appreciation and enjoyment. One can never love a thing rightly until one knows its true value; j~ust as one can never know its worth unless one knows the value God places on it. All of which means that we can never love a creature rightly except in and through God Who makes it worth whatever it is. In teaching mankind all this by ~he daily living of their vow of poverty, religious are teaching a most wise lesson. In so doing, they themselves become more wise and share their wisdom with others. For it belongs to the wise man to order and evaluate things rightly. By their vow of chastity, religious teach the world another saving lesson; they teach a selfish and unsacrificing world the value of sacrifice. Religious teach the world the fruitfulness of unfruitfulness. They teach the world that in order to win more of the children of God they have given them up. Relig- 259 BONAVENT~JRE BALSAM Review for Religious ious teach a grasping world that, in order to gain what is really worthwhile, one must lose what is really not worthwhile. They teach the world that oi~ten the only way to conquer is to surrender and that everything that one gives up for God he gains back again in God, and "pressed down, in good measure, and flowing over." And God besides. Religious give up a lesser privilege t~or a .greater one; they t~orego the privilege of bringing children into the world because to that privilege they pret~er the greater privilegi~ of bringing God into the world. So, in actuality, the chaste brotherhood or sisterhood of a religious is far more fruitful and noble than wedded t:ather-hood, or motherhood. There is something more that religious can do t~or the world and for God's children which often goes unappreciated even by themselves. Religious should realize the element of personal reparation and vicarious atonement inherent in their vow of chastity./ Vices are not only expelled, but are most fittingly atoned for, by. their opposite virtues. Religious are God's "chosen pedple." They stay the avenging hand of God by the purity of their lives. God, in looking upon the un-earthly purity of His religious, is moved to forgive the morass of impurity in which a great part of mankind is floundering and to give it grace to repent and change its evil ways. Here, again, the life of religious is a living protest to a "wicked and adulterous generation." The protest they lodge against the world is the silent protest ot~ their unassuming though uncon-cealable modesty and purity which, "like a city seated on a mountain top, cannot be hid." By their entire and absolute chastity, religious work to make this carnal world into a holy and pure generation. They must offer up their chastify, which makes them akin to the angels, as a protest to the world and and as a propitiatory sacrifice for its unspeakable impurities. Only the pure o~ heart will ever see God,. and they alone will be able to show God to others. God makes use o~ the conse-crated purity ot~ a religious to sterilize the world ot~ its in~ection 260 September, 1957 GOD'S LIVING. SERMON of impurity. Thus the~ freely chosen childlessness of religious is, .indeed, most fertile of good--their holy barrenness begets countless children of God. By their vow of obedience, religious proclaim to the world that the root of all sin lies in inordinate self-love and inordinate self-will. And they teach the world the remedy fo~ this ill. By their obedience, religious tell the world that the only way to escape out of the maddening labyrinth "of self and selfish-ness is to take one's will in both hands and exchange it for the #111 of God by riveting it to His most Sacred' Heart. The o~nly way to be truly free is.to serve m to serve God without stint. In this exchange of wills one's own narrowness and smallness are exchanged for the infinite generosity of God. The stagnate pool of selfishness ,is displaced by7 the restless sea of love which is God's holy will. And since the will of God is the cause of all good; since, too, religious have exchanged their will for His by vow, then they too will bring into the world and into the lives of men unlimited good. Religiods, by the life they lead, will diffuse through the universe some of the infinite goodness of God. In this vowed exchange of wills with God, religious be-come more and more sinless. For the more God's will dis- 'places theirs and becomes the motive force of their life and actions, the more religious approa.ch the state of impeccability --the impeccability of God's holy will. Hence, the more and longer God's. will works in them, the less will they fall into daily sins and faults, and the more they will do, and diffuse, good about them. The world seeing this transformation in religious, their own fellowmen, will first wonder at them, then admire them, and finally imitate them. And when the world imitates them, religious thus renew the face of the earth. They and the life they live. Besides being a living sermon on G~d, every religious is a living mystery also. Religious must have all the elements 261 BONAVENTURE BALSAM Review for Religious about them of a true mystery of faith. They must be thor-oughly supernatural. They must think, will, and act always on a supernatural plane. They must survey the whole of their own life and every event that befalls them from that super-natural ~vantage point, from the loft~; peaks of faith. Their viewpoint, their perspective of everything will always and every-where be determined by faith. Nothing will be purposeless; everything will be judged according to a divine pattern. All their assignments, and the minutest details and circumstances surrounding those assignments, must be looked upon and judged with the eyes of faith. The hardships and crosses of a par- ' ticular assignment, the trials and difficulties attached to an act of obedience, the misunderstandings and false accusations that may dog their steps, all these must be seen in their supernatural light. They must be seen as~having a definite .place in God's plan for their sanctification and salvation. Never will religious live on the merely natural level mthe level of those who have no faith. Rather, they must, under all circumstances, "live in such a way that their life would not make sense if God did not exist." God and their great faith in God must determine every decision religious make, must be the heart in every one of their motives for acting. By profession, and even more by religious consecration, religious belong to God and are familiar with God's ways. But religious are a living mystery for more reasons than that. As in the case of every' mystery, their life is one of im-penetrable paradox. Religious are in the very midst of the wo~ld, though they can never claim any of it as their own. By profession, they are consecrated down to their fingertips. Though they are vowed to seek after that peace which only God can give, still they are ever stirring up discontent and dissatisfaction. They are ever fomenting a rebellion against the ways of the world. A religious is an aposde of elevation; his whole life tends to. raise the general worth and standards of. mankind by the 262 September, 1957 GOD'S LIVING SERMON unearthliness and loftiness of his own life. He is the divine yeast in the rather inert and formless mass'of humanity without God. He is what the priest has been called, "the minister of restlessness." In looking upon his life, the world is wounded with a sort of tormenting longing for the divine. A religious may be rightly called "an apostle of the abso-lute." He is ever on a relentless search, a quest, not for that which is merely good, but for that which is God, for the Per-fect. His very religious consecration makes him ever a pilgrim, ever a foreigner to this wor/d, and en route to see the face of God. Whatever he finds, good, whether in himself or in others, he must ever try to make better. He is gripped by a continu-ous and divine unrest, which, oddly enough, is the great source of the profound peace which surrounds his life. That unrest takes the form of a hunger to be more united to God, though he knows full well that divine union must entail the painful surrendering of deep-seated attachments. It entails turning a deaf ear to the unending call of the flesh to pla~ riot in the warm fields of its pleasures; it entails purging out of one's spiritual organism the multiplicity of sins which plague it and keep it undeveloped, ~tunted, and impede its more complete union with God. All this means pain, struggle, denial, sacri-fice, and death. But the religious is equally aware that in the midst of all this struggle to embrace his God and never to let Him go there is a joy that makes all this tremendous effort and strife insignificant, short-lived, accountable as nothing at all. He knows that the more he peels away the outer bark of bitter self, the more he sees and tastes of the fruit of God with-in. He knows that the sufferinss of these times are like seasoning, sharp and bitter, but necessary to taste one's God, indeed to consume Him in love. Like ev.ery mystery, the religious .must remain beyond. the ken and grasp of the generality of mankind. He will be misunderstood, his actions misconstrued. So lofty and extra-ordinary is his life that those who see only with a fleshly eye 263 BONAVENTURE BALSAM will say that it is impossible or a huge deception. He will be considered a cowardly fugitive from the world, from reality; 'whereas, in truth, he pursues thd world in its flight from God, takes it in his arms as a father does a recalcitrant child, and offers it up to God in love. Instead of being a dreamer, as he is accused of being, he is the world's greatest realist, for he knows and appreciates God, the cause of all reality, and claims Him as his very own possession and gift to the world. Since he is a sort of special creation of God, the religious must remain unknown; he must n~ver become profane. When his life becomes common, banal, vulgar, a byword among the people, he is no longer a living and sacred mystery; he is now common knowledge. He has then lost that necessary quality of' super-naturalness. He must ever remain like a beautiful tree with its roots hidden in the earth and its head and heart in the heavens. Every religious is a living mystery. Like every divine mystery, he must be accessible to all those who ai, e seeking God. He and his life must ever be a source of awe for the world. Being a pilgrim and an apostle of the absolute, of perfection, he must keep the world dissatisfied, discontented with its smug and mediocre ways. He must be .the tangible and living expres-sion of the life of God and the degree in which it can be shared by grace. His life must be one of elevation, of an offertory. Sworn to pursue perfection, he must make himself and the world one grand host of love offered up to God in adoration, thanksgiving, petition, and atonement. From ttie rising of the sun even to the going down thereof, the religious must be a liv!ng mystery and sermon of God. 264 Dismissal ot: Religious in Lay Insfit:u es Lloseph g. Gallen, S.,J. 1. Definition. Dismissal is the compulsory departure from a religious institute during the time of the vows of the religious. Any religious, whether of solemn or simple vows, perpetual or temporary, may be dismissed. Dismissal is effected by the de-cree of the competent superior and by law, ipso facto, or automatically because of the commission of any of the crimes specified in canon 646. The present article is confined to the dismissal of religious in lay institutes. However, the norms are the same in other institutes for the dismissal of a professed of temporary vows and also for men of perpetual vows in a clerical non-exempt institute. The canonical prescriptions for the dis-missal of a clerical or lay religious man of perpetual vows in a clerical and exempt institute are likewise the same as in a lay institute of men except that in the former the crimes, admoni-tions, and incorrigibility must be proved in a judicial process. The provisional return to secular life is essentially the same in a clerical exempt institute (cc. 653; 668). The laws of the code and of the particular constitutions must be accurately' and sincerely observed in a dismissal. They were enacted to protect the rights of both the institute and the individual religious. It is very likely that an unusual number of highly unsatisfactory religious justifies a complaint against facility of admission and retention during the probationary periods rather than against the difficulty of dismissal. It is evident, also that the age of the religious is to be considered before deciding on the formalities of a dismissal, even though this is not mentioned in the code. Older religious should be dismissed only for most serious reasons. Their adjustment to secular life, especially in the case of a religious woman, is obvi-ousl'y more difficult. A religious whose conduct merits serious 265 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious thoughts of dismissal should practically always be first encour-aged to ask for an indult of secularization. Those who are found certainly unsuitable at any time during temporary pro-fession are to be counseled to ask foi: an indult of secularization rather than to wait until the voluntary departure or exclusion at the expiration of temporary vows. I. Competent Authority for Dismissal by Decree and for Final Adjudication of Provisional Sending Back to Secular Life . 2. In pontifical congregations. (a) For professed men and women of temporary vows (c. 647, § 1). The competent authority is the superior general with the deliberative and secret vote of his council. In the few constitutions where his part in any dismissal is mentioned, it is prescribed that the pro-vincial should consult his council before proposing a dismissal to the superior general. The provincial will usually, in fact, initiate a dismissal by proposing it to the superior general, Since the matter is one of greater importance, in prudence he should at lea~t ordinarily consult his council before doing so. (b) For professed of perpetual vows. 1° In congregations of men (c. 650, § 2, 2°). The superior general with the consent of his council is competent to decree the dismissal, but his decree has no effect until it is confirmed by the Sacred Congregation of Religious. 2° In congregations of women (c. 652, § 3). The Sac/ed Congregation of Religious alone is competent to decree the dismissal. 32 For professed of temporary or perpetual vows in diocesan congregations of men or women (cc. 647, § 1; 650, § 2, 1°; 652, § 1). The competent authority in all cases of men or women is the ordinary of the diocese where the house to which the religious is attached is located. The ordinary of the diocese of the generalate is competent only for religious attached to houses' in his diocese. In virtue of canon 647, § 1, the local ordinary may certainly initiate the dismissal of a professed of temporary vows. He probably possesses the same .right with regard to professed men or women of perpetual vows.' If the 266 September, 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES ordinary initiates the dismissal, he is obliged to inform the superior general before dismissing the religious. He is also obliged to give consideration to the reasons the superior gen-eral proposes against the dismissal and is forbidden to dismiss a religious, if this superior ha~ just reasons against it. If he does so, the superior general has the right of recurring to the Sacred Congregation of Religious. 4. Societies living in common without~ public vows (c. 681). The norms of dismissal for pontifical and diocesan religious congregations ~pply also to these pontifical and diocesan socie-ties, i. e., the norms for the professed of temporary vows apply to members whose bond is temporary, those for religious of perpetual vows to members whose bond in such a society is per-petual. 5. In monasteries of nuns. (a) For professed of temporary vows .(c. 647, § 1). If the monastery is not subject to regu-lars, the competent authority is the local ordinary of the mon-astery. If the monastery is subject to regulars: two opinions are probable, i. e., the competent authority is either only the regular superior or, the more probable opinion, the regular superior and the local ordinary acting conjointly. (b) For professed of perpetual vows (c. 652, § 2). The competent authority is the Sacred Congregation of Religious, but all the documents and acks of the case are to be transmitted to the congregation by the local ordinary of the monastery with his own vote and that of .the regular superior, if the mon-astery is subject to regulars. 6. Obligation of competent authorities. The competent au-thorities, as well as the superior and his council who propose a dismissal to such authority, have a grave obligation in con-science to observe the norms for dismissal imposed by canon law (cf. c. 647, § 2). ~ Tabera, Corntnent,~rium Pro Reli]io$i$, 13-1932-124-25; 14-1933-35; Schaet:er, De Religiosis, n. 1602; Quinn, Relation of t/~e Local Ordinary to Religious o/ Diocesan/l$/~ro¢,al, 103-105. 267 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious . II. Dismissal by Decree of a Professed of Temporary Vows (cc. 647-48) 7. Sufficient" reasons for dismissal. (a) ' General principles (c. 647, § 2, 1°.3°). The authority dismissing a religious of tem-porary vows must have. moral certainty, i. e., a judg,ment that excludes a founded doubt, of the existence and sufficiency of the reasons. The reasons must be external to the extent that they are known by others. They mu~t also be ~sekious'or grave, which does not imply serious moral culp~ibilit~ or any culpa-bility at all. The general principies on the sufficiency 0f the reasons are that it is to the good of the institute not to retain the subject; the institute will suffer a notable harm or serious incon;cenience in retaining him; there is no hope that ~he reli-gious will be able to conform his life in a creditable or praise-worthy manner to the demands of .the constitutions; "lie lacks the general aptitude for the religious life or the special aptitude requisite for the spiritual life or works of. the particular insti-tute; and any reason is sufficient that is of the same or greater import than that stated by way of example in canon 647, § 2, 2°, i. e., a defect of religious spirit that 'is a cause of scandal to others. It is probable, as under exclusion from a further profession,~ that after more than six prescribed years in tem-porary vows a religious may be dismissed or~ly for reasons that are sufficient to dismiss a professed of perpetual vows. (b) Particular sufficient reasons (c. 647, § 2, 2°). A sufficient reason on the part of the institute is the lack of aptitude stated in the preceding paragraph. Sufficient-reasons on the part of the religious himself can be reduced to intelledtual defects, which is included under aptitude above, to health, which will be explained below, and to moral defects. Moral defects constitute" tl~e principal motive for dismissal. The code mentions only one sufficient cause of dismissal by way of ex-ample, and this is a habitual moral defect, i. e., a defect of 2Cf./IEwsw FOg RELXG~OL~S, July, 1957, 216-18. 268 September, 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY ]INSTITUTES religious spirit that is a cause of scandal to others. This defect can be ascertained from the conduct and motives of the religious and from the effect of his conduct on others. Such a religious seems to lack all supernatural motives, and' acts almost constantly from those that are purely natural. He is de~oid of love, attachment, and devotion to the religious life and its duties. His transgressions arise from habitual negligence, sloth, weariness, perversity, and ill will, not from accidental weakness and frailty. He ,manifests little care or effort for per-sonal sanctification. In his conduct he "habitually violates the constitutions, rules, customs, and usages of the.institute, even if not in relatively serious matters. He obeys superiors with diffi-culty in matters that are not strictly commanded. He habitually omits, performs carelessly, or places little value on religious exer-cises. In its effect on others, the conduct described above is already scandalous in a person consecrated to God. Such conduct and the fact that .the motives and state of his will externally manifest themselves decrease in others respect and 'devotion to the religious life and its duties and make observance of religious disci-pline by others more difficult. Often there, is added the direct insti-gation of others to violations of religious duties and discipline. Among the equivalent habitual moral defects are the follow-ing. 1° Obedience. Habitual, unwilling, and grudging obedience; .habitual murmuring against and criticism of superiors; habitual negligence in fulfilling duties assigned by superiors. 2° Poverty. Repeated violations of the vow and of common life, even if not in serious matters. 3° Anger. One who is habitually quarrelsome or has an" ungovernable temper that~ breaks out in frequent and serious fitsof anger and causes frequent disturb-ance of the peace of the community, loss of peace of soul, insults, and injuries to companions, .and dissensions in the community. 4° Charity. One who is addicted to faults of the tongue that annoy, disturb, or provoke others to quarrels, Or that consist of frequent calumnies, detractions, imprudenc~e in speech or violations of secrets. 5° Disturber of the peace. A 269 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious habitual disturber of the peace of the community who creates or fosters dissatisfaction, dissensions, factions, or provokes to quarrels. 8. Necessity of repeated admonition and salutary penance with-out effect (c. 647, § 2, 2°). Any habitual moral defect is a sufficient reason for dismissal only when a repeated admonition together with a salutary penance has produced no effect. The code demands only that the subject should have been admon-ished at least twice, orally or in writing, secretly or in a manner /hat can be proved, by a local or higher superior, to reform his conduct. Canon law does not require here that the admoni-tion be given in virtue of a mandate from a higher superior or that a threat of dismissal be. added to the admonition. The salutary penance to be added to each admonition i~ one suitable for effecting the reform of the religious and the reparation of the scandal" already given. It will consist of the penances in use in the particular institute, e. g., recitation of determined prayers, an act of humility, or a public acknowledgment or reprehension of defects. A sufficient period of time is to be allowed to pass "after the second admonition to permit the religious to reform his conduct. After this period, if he has ¯ nbt reformed his conduct to such an extent that it can no longer be considered a sufficient cause for dismissal, he may be dismissed. Both for the reform of the religious and proof in the eCent of dismissal and recourse, the more secure and prudent ¯ dgctrine is to be followed in practice, i. e., a threat of dismissal is to be added to each admonition and the admonition and penance are to be given in such a way that there will be proof that both were given and received. This can be accomplished b'y¯giving the admonition and penance before two witnesses or in writing. A copy of such a document is to be retained. by the institute. 9. A single act as a sufficient reason. A religious of temporary vows may be dismissed because of a very serious single act, 270 September, 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES e. g., a grave external s_in against chastity; formal contempt of the authority of superiors; violation of a formal precept .of obedience; an act that creates a danger of notable harm or infamy to the institute; serious scandal given once or twice in the community, or what is more serious, to seculars, when there are indications that the same thing will happen again.-~ A pro-fessed of temporary vows who becomes a fugitive from religion or does the same thing as an apostate from religion, even though he cannot technically be called an apostate because he is not in perpetual vows, may be dismissed because of either of these acts. :~ 10. Insul/icient reasons (c. 647, ~ 2, 2°). The statement of the religious that he never possessed or has lost a religious vocation or the mere agreement of the institute and the religious that he be dismissed are insufficient reasons. In either case, the religious, giving all the reasons that actually exist, may ask for an indult of secularization or may wait and depart at the expiration of temporary vows. Ill health is a sufficient reason for dismissal only if it was certainly fraudule.ntly concealed or dissimulated before the first profession of temporary' vows. Everything said under exclusion from a further profession because of ill health, lack of ability arising from ill health, ailments such as hysteria and neurasthenia, and insanity apply here also.~ 11. Procedure (c. 647, § 2, 3°). No special process is pre-scribed for attaining certainty of the existence and sufficiency of the reasons for dismissal nor for decreeing the dismissal. If it is d~cided to proceed to dismissal, the .necessary preliminary data should be written out first, i. e., the religious and family name of the subject, age, date of entrance into the postulancy and noviceship, date or dates of temporary profession, and the houses and employments to which the religious had been assigned. To this should be added a brief and accurate descrip-tion of the previous conduct of the religious. The formalities 3 Cf. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, May, 1957, 162-63. -1 Cf. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, July, 1957, 219-20. 271 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious of dismissal are practically always preceded by a protracted period o'f most unsatisfactory conduct. The decision on dis-missal is then to be studied and obviously with the greatest care. The matters to be decided are whether certain proof is had of the existence and sufficiency of the reasons, of the admonitions given privately and of those given in writing or before witnesses with a threat of dismissal, and of the lack of effect, of these admonitions. Proof of the existence of the reasons will ordinarily be from signed statements of local superiors and councilors, principals of schools, companions in religion, etc. Canon 647, ~ 2, 3°, prescribes that all the reasons for dismissal, not the proofs nor the names of the witnesses, be manifested to the religious orally or in writing before dismissal. The proposal of the reasons in writing is preferable for proof. The religious must be given full liberty and a su~cient amount of. time to reply to the charges. He is .to be counseled to reply in writing. If his replies are given orally, they are to be taken down immediate!y in writing and he is to be requested to sign them. If he refuses, this is to be noted in the document on which his replies are given. His replies are to be submitted fully to the authority competent for dismissal. Everything given above in this number should have been followed also by the superior general and his council in a diocesan congregation and the superioress and her council in a monastery of nuns before tl~e written petition for dismissal is forwarded to the competent authority. The vote of the council should be given in writing to this authority. In a monastery of nuns, this vote must be deliberative.~ In a diocesan .congregation, the superior general will present the petition for a dismissal to the local ordinary; but the constitutions will frequently require the con-sultive or deliberative vote of his council for such a petition. The local ordinary and the regular superior must have certainty ~Cf. Tabera, Commentarium Pro Religiosis, 12-1931-372-73; Larraona, ibid., 2-1921-364-65; Schaefer, 010. cir., n. 1584. 272 September', 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES of the existence and sufficiency of the reasons alleged in the representations of the superior. They accordingly have the right and duty of investigating the existence of the reasons, although this is usually proved in the proposal of the superior, and of weighing the seriousness of these reasons. 12. Dismissal. If the decision is for dismissal, a decree" of dismissal should be drawn up containing the date, name of the religious, the reasons for dismissai, and the statement that the religious is therewith informed of his right of suspensive recourse against the decree to the Sacred Congregation of Religious. The decree should either be read to the religious or he should be given a copy of it. Either the original-or a copy of the decree and of all the proofs and documents in the case is to be retained in the files of the institute. It would be well to give the religi-ous a written statement to the effect that he was l~gitimately dismissed from the institute and freed of all his vows and obligations. In the presence of two religious as witnesses, the dismissed religious is to be asked to sign the following or a similar docu-ment after it has beenread to him. "I realize that I am hereby informed that'I have the 'right of recurring to the Sacred Congregation of Religious against this decree of dismissal and that, if I make this recourse within ten days from this date, such a recourse will suspend the effect of this decree until offi-cial notification is received that the decree has been confirmed by the same Sacred Congregation." The two religious witnesses are also to sign as such. If the dismissed religious will riot sign, this refusal is to be noted on the document; and the two religious witnesses ard also to attest on the document to this refusal. This document also is to be retained by the institute. If the religious has already left the institute illicitly, th'e notification of the decree and of the right of suspensive recourse is to be sent to him by certified mail, which provides for a receipt, to the sender and a record of delivery at the offi~ce of the address. 13. Suspensive recourse (c. 647, § 2, 4°). The one who 273 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious communicates the decree of dismissal is counseled in a reply of the Sacred Congregation of Religious to inform the religious of his right of recourse.° This should always be done; and several authors advise that this information be included, as above, in the decree of dismissal. The religious has the right of making a suspensive recourse to the Sacred Congregation of Religious against the decree of dismissal within ten days from the date on which he was informed of the decree. The first day is not counted. If the religious was informed of the decree on June 1, the time begins to run on June 2 and expires ~it midnight of June 11-12. The time does not run for any period during which the subject is ignorant of his right or unable to act, e. g., because of illness. The recourse is to be made by letter, either immediately by the subject or mediately through the superior who communicated the decree to him. The subject is to give his reasons againsf the dismissal. Proof that he had made the recourse is had by the authentic document of his own letter or the testimony of two trustworthy witnesses. The recourse within ten, days suspends the effect of the decree, which is completely ineffective until the authority that issued the decree is notified of its confirmation by the Sacred Congre-gation of Religious. While the recourse is pending, the subject is not dismissed and remains a religious with the same obligations as any other professed of temporary vows. He has the right and obligation of dwelling, under obedience to superiors, in the religious house assigned by them. If the religious does not wish to make recourse but to leave the institute immediately after the. decree is communicated to him, he may do so. Superiors may oblige him to leave immediately only if he has declared in writing that he will not m~ike recourse.7 Otherwise the religious is to remain until the ten days have elapsed without recourse having been 0 Bouscaren, Canon Law Digest, 1,329. ¢ Cf. c. 1880, 9°; Coronata, Manuale Practicum luris Discipli~iaris et Criminalis Regularium, n. 248. 274 September, 1957~ DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES made. A subject may als6 make recourse after the lapse of the ten-day period, but such recourse does not suspend the effect of the dismissal, 14. Effects of dismissal (c. 648). Canon 648 frees a professed of temporary vows, as soon as the decree of dismissal is effective, from all the vo~,s of his religious profession. There is no need of a dispensation from the vows. The ~ther effects are the same as explained under secularization in the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, September, 1956~ 233-36. III. Dismissal. By Decree of a Professed of~ Perpetual Vows (cc. 649,52; 669, .~ li 672, ~ 1) 15. Sufficient reasons. (a) In institutes of men (cc. 649; 656, I°). Three grave and external crimes of the same or different species in the proper sense of canon 2195, § 1, two admonitions, and incorrigibility a~e necessary. A violation of any positive law accompanied l~y special gravity or scandal is also a crime (c. 2222, § 1). The following are examples of sufficient ¯ reasons:' serious sins against common life, external si~s against chastity, disobedience to formal precepts, formal contempt of authority, rebellion against superiors, seriously impeding the government of superiors, creating or fomenting factions in the community, drunkenness, striking companions in religion, seri-ous diffamation of others or 0f the institute, apostasy or flight from religion, as also violations of the vows or of the ~onstitutions that constitute a specially grave offense or give rise to~ grave scandal in or outside the institute. These acts must be seriously sinful objectively and subjectively. Crimes of different species should be such as to reveal, when viewed collectively, a will obstinate in evil (c. 657).s (b) In institutes of women (c. 651, § 1). The same reasons are required for the dismissal of any religious woman of per-petual vows, whether solemn or simple. The reasons must be s Cf. Creusen, Religious Men and Women in the Code, n. 353; Bastien, Directoire Canonique, n. 634, 1, 1°; Tabera, op. cit., 14-1933-267; Beste, Introductio in Codicem, 443,448. 275 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious external, culpable, serious, and joined with incorrigibility. The reasons have to be external to the extent that they are known by others. The code requires culpable but does not certainly demand seriously culpable reasons. Inculpable reasons, e. g., lack of aptitude and physical and intellectual defects do not suffice for the dismissal of a perpetually professed religious. The reasons must be serious or grave. Finally, the reasons must be joined with incorrigibility, i. e., attempts at correction were made and their lack of success proves that there is no hope of amendment. ~The following are general examples of sufficient reasons: violations of the vows, constitutions, and religious dis-cipline that are considered more serious, even though in them-selves they are not mortal sins, or that cause serious scandal in or outside the community; and conduct that causes a notable spiritual or temporal harm to the community. The following are examples of particular sufficient reasons: repeated violations of~the vow of poverty, even after admonitions, reprehensions, penances, and even though the matter in itself does not consti-tute a serious sin; repeated and more serious acts of disobedi-ence; exciting others to rebellion and insubordination; arousing others against superiors by word or conduct; impeding the authority of superiors; disturbing the peace of the community by constant murmuring and complaints; causing dissensions and factions in the community; and the diffamation of the institute or its members among seculars. The reasons given above for men also evidently suffice for the. dismissal of women, since less serious reasons are required for the dismissal of women. Incorrigibility supposes repeated or habitufil actions. There-fore, one violation does not suffice for the dismissal of a per-petually professed religious woman. As in the case of religious men of perpetual vows, there must be at least three violations or one continued violation which, after a double admonition, becomes vi'rtually three violations. These three violations may all be of the same species, e. g., all against poverty; they may be of different species, e. g., one against poverty, the second 276 September, 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES against obedience, and the third contrary to charity. The one continued violation is verified in such things as apostasy from religion, being a fugitive from religion, and a refusal to obey. The apostate who has been admonished twice to return to religion and refuses commits virtually three violations, the original act of apostasy and the two refusals to return (c. 657). 16. Attempts at correction and 'incorrigibility (cc. 649; 656- 62; 651, § i). Everything below on the admonitions and incor-rigibility is of obligation 'from canon law in lay institutes of men. The code does not determine just what' 'the attempts at correction are to consist of in the case 'of religious women but leaves these and the judgment of the incorrigibility to the supeiioress. However, the doctrine that is more probable :in itself and to be followed in practice is that the canons on religious men should be extended to women, i. e., there should be two admonitions coupled with suitable corrections and penances. When these produce no effect, the religious wom£n may be judged in-corrigible. 17. Admonitions (cc. 658-62). (a) Prerequisite certitude of first violation (c. 658). Before the first admonition may be given, there must be certitude, not mere suspicion, probability, or conjecture, of the commission of the first violation. If cer-titude is not had, a further investigation of the conduct of the religious may be. made. If the investigation does not give certitude, an admonition may not be given. (b) Matter of the admonitions (c. 661). The' essentialnotes of an admonition are three: the superior reprehends the religiou~ for the violation already committed; warns him to avoid slich conduct in the future; and adds a threat of dismissal if the religious should persist in such conduct. The thi:eat of dismissal is always to be added to the admonition in the case of a per-petually professed religious man or woman (c. 661,. § 3). 9 Statuta a Sororibus Externis 8er~anda, n. 119; Coronata, lnstltutiones luris Canonici, I, n. 651; Palombo, De Dimissione Religiosorum, n. 179; Tabera, o~. cit., 13-1932-123; Bastien o/,. tit., rt. 639, 3. 277 JOSEPH ~. GALLEN Review for Religious The superior is also to add to the admonitions: 1° an apt exhortation, i. e., to give motives to the religious for the reform of his conduct; 2° an apt correction, i. e., to show the religious the disorder of his past conduct, its effect on himself and .others, on the community and the institute; 3° preventive measures against a future violation. Almost necessarily these will imply putting the religious under the vigilance of a superior. Other such measures that the particular case demands are also to be employed, e. g., changing the employment or house of the religious and, in general, removing and lessening the occasion of a future violation. 4° apt penances. These are to be added to each admonition. Their aptitude is to be judged from their suitability for effecting the amendment of the religious and the reparation of the scandal already given. (c) Number and form of the admonitions (c. 660). There must be two admonitions, one for each of the first two viola-tions. In a continued violation, at least three full days must elapse between the first and second admonition. The admoni-tions are to be given in such a way that there will be proof that ' they were given and received. They are accordingly to be given before two witnesses or in writing.When given before witnesses, it is better to have the admonition also written out, to retain a copy, and have the two witnesses sign this copy to the effect that they witnessed the giving of the admonition. If given in ¯ writing, the religious is always to be made to sign a document to the effect that he received the admonition, a copy of the admonition is always to be retained, and two witnesses are to attest that the copy agrees with the original. If the religious is'outside the institute, e. g., as an apostate or fugitive, the admonition is to be sent to him in writing by certified mail (cf. n. 12). (d) Competent superior for admonitions (c. 659). In institutes of men, the admonitions should be given by the immediate higher superior personally or through another authorized for the purpose. An authorization given for the first admonition 278 September, 1957 DISMISSAL IN LA~ INSTITUTES suffices also for the second. From analogy, the same principles are to be followed in an institute of women. (e) Interval and violation after the second admonition (c. 662). After the second admonition, there must be a third vio-lation or a refusal to obey the second admonition in the case of a continued violation. An interval of at least six full days is to elap, se between the second admonition and any further action in a continued violation.'° After the third violation or the lapse of the six days without sincere repentance, the religious is canonically incorrigible and may be dismissed. If he sincerely repents within the six days, ¯ he is not incorrigible and may not be dismissed. If such repen-tance is verified only after the third violation or after the six days, action on the dismissal may be continued, since the religious is canonically incorrigible; but it would be better to discontinue such action provisionally, because the religious is not in fact incorrigible,n If the religious later commits another violation, the formalities of dismissal may be continued unless the reforma-tion of thereligious was sincere and complete. Such a reforma-tion excludes the computation or inclusion of past violations and admonitions and requires that the formalities of dismissal be begun anew. A sincere and complete reformation demands that the religious, e. g., have avoided the occasions of violations, have been willing to repair scandal by public penance, and have been more than ordinarily faithful to religious observance. The common doctrine is that such an amendment of conduct should have continued for three years, but a lesser space of time, e. g., a year, will su~ce in the case of extraordinary repentance.12 l°Cf. Tabera, 0p. cit., 14-1933-273; Toso, Commentaria Minora, II, II, 268; Chelodi-Ciprot~i, lus Canonicura de Personis, n. 291; De Carlo, Jus Religiosorum, n. 587. 11Cf. Goyeneche, De Religiosis, 217; De Carlo, oiO. cir., n. 587; Schaefer, oil: clt., n. 1629; Palombo, 0/~. cir., n. 113; Coronata, 0/L cir., 867; Beste, 0/~. cir., 450; Jone, Commentarium in Codicem Iuris Canonici, I, 586. ~2Cf. Goyeneche, op. cir., 217; De Carlo, oiO. cir., n. 587; Schaefer, o/,. cir., n. 1629; Palombo, op. tit., n. 114; Beste, oiO. cit., 450; Jone, o~O. tit., 586; Coropata, op. cit., 864. 279 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious 18. Procedure (cc. 650-52). (a). Intervention of the superior general and his council. In pontifical or diocegan lay institutes of men, canon 650, §§ 1-2, not only require that- the dismissal of a professe~ of perpe~tual vows be submitted to th~ superior gen-eral but also demand a deliberative vote of his council for such a dismissal. Canon law "does not clearly demand the interven-tion of the mother general nor of her council in the dismissal of .a professed of perpetual vows. However, from analogy with the law on the dismissal of religious men of perpetual vows and the constant practice of the Sacred Congregation of Religi-ous in the approval of constitutions, the dismissal of a professed woman of perpetual vows in both pontifical'and diocesan congre-gations is to be referred to the mother general and h'er council and the council is to have a deliberative vote.la For the same reasons, the deliberative vote of the council is required in a monastery of nuns. The remarks on the provincial and his council in n. 2 (a)apply here also. A proviricial should prac-tically never initiate the formalities of dismissal except after having consulted the superior general. The superior general and his council should have the pre-liminary data on the' religious drawn up, as stated in n. 11. To'this document are to be added a description of the three violations, proof of their existence, and proof that the admoni-tions Were properly given and received. As explained in n. 11, the reasons for the dismissal are tg, be fully manifested to the religious; and his replies in writing are to be submitted to the authority competent for dismissal. The matters .to be decided are whether certain proof is had of the three violations, of the giving and reception of the admonitions, and of the incorrigi-bility of the religious. (b) If the decision is for dismissal. 1° In a pontifical congre-gation. The mother general is to transmit all the acts and a:~Cf. Larraona, Commentarium Pro Religlosis, 2-1921-364-66; Ta~era, op. cir., 14-1933-53-54; Schaefer, op. cit., n. 1608; Jone, op. cit., 578; Muzzarelli, Tractatus Canonicus de Congregationibus Iuris Dioecesani, 175; Goyeneche, op. cit., 219; Bastien, op. cir., n. 640. 280 September, 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES documents of the case along with the vote of her council to the Sacred Congregation of Religious (cf. n. 2). In a congregation of brothers, the same things are to be sent to .the Sacred Con-gregation. However, the brother general,, with the deliberative vote of his council, decrees the dismissal; but this has no effect until it is confirmed by the Sacred Congregation (cf. n. 2). A superior who transmits a case to the authority competent for dismissal may include further information from himself or the members of the council in, addition to the latter's vote. 2° In a diocesan congregation, of brothers or sisters. The same things are to be forwarded to the local ordinary (cf. n. 3). The matters to be decided by the ordinar~ are the same as those stated above. He may summon the religious, defer the dis-missal and prescribe further attempts at correction, deny the dismissal, or issue the decree of dismissal. 3° In a monastery of nuns. The superioress is to transmit the same things to the local ordinary and the regular superior (cf. n. 5). 19. Dismissal. The religious is dismissed only at the moment that he or she receives legitimate notification of the decree of dismissal or of the confirmation of the Sacred Congregation of Religious in the case of religious men.~ Before that time he may neither leave the institute nor may the institute eject him. He is then to leave the institute, unless he is a member of a diocesan congregation, as will be immediately explained. 20. Recourse. (a) In any pontifical lay institute of men or women. The religious may recur io the Holy See against the decree of dismissal, but this recourse does not suspend the effect of the dismissal. The code gives no such right, and the Holy See has both examined ihe reasons of the religious against the dismissal and has itself effected or confirmed the dismissal. (b) In any diocesan congregation of men or women. The code says nothing on the right of the religious to recur to the Holy See against a dismissal effected by the local ordinary. a4 Palombo, op. cit., nn. 144, 187; O'Leary, Rdi.oious Dismissed after Perpetual Profession, 47-50. 281 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious However, it is admitted that the religious has the right of recur-ring. to the Sacred Congregation of Religious against the decree; and, if made within ten days from the date on which the religi-ous was informed of the decree, this recourse suspends the effect of the dismissal. This right to a suspensive recourse follows a fortiori from the fact that such a right is granted to a religious of temporary vows dismissed by the local ordinary (c. 647, ~ i, 4°). Therefore, everything said in n. 13 under ¯ the dismissal of a professed of temporary vows applies here also. 21'. Effects of dismissal (cc. 669, § 1; 672, § 1). (a) If dis-missal frees from the vows. The code itself (c. 669, § 1 ) does not free a dismissed religious of perpetual vows from the vows of religious profession by the very fact of the dismissal. Such a liberation may be effected by a provision of the particular constitutions, or the Holy See may append a dispensation to the dismissal, or the dismissed religious may petition the Sacred Congregation of Religious in the case of pontifical institutes or the local ordinary in that of diocesan institutes for a dispen-sation. 1~ The religious is to be most earnestly encouraged to make such a petition, and the superiors are willingly to aid him. Constitutions of lay congregations submitted to Rome in the earlier years after the Code of Canon Law became effective, May 19, 1918, uniformly do not provide that legitimate dismis-sal of a perpetually professed religious frees from the vows; tho~e submitted in more recent years frequently contain this provision. The latter practice should be followed in any revis-ion of pontifical or diocesan constitutions. Ill such a provision is contained in the constitutions, the dismissal frees from all the vows of religious profession as soon as the decree is effective. There is no need of a dispensation from the vows. The other effects are the same as explained under secularization in the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, September, 1956, 233-36. (b) If the dismissal does not free from the vows (c. 672, § 1). Canon 672, § 1, prescribes that a religious of perpetual is Cf. Muzzarelli, o~. cir., 306. 282 September, 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES vows who has been dismissed without being freed of his vows is obliged to reform his.life so that he will be worthy .of being received back into the institute. If the dismissed religious has manifested a complete reform during a period of three years, he is obliged to return to the institute and the la'tter~ is obliged to take him back. Howe.ver, it is the far more probable interpre-tation that this canon applies only to a religious in sacred orders (priest, deacon, subdeacon).'6 If the dismissed lay religious will not voluntarily petition a dispensation from the vows, the practical remedy is to submit the case immediately to the Sacred Congregation of Religious. A professed of~ perpetual vows is also to be given an official statement to the effect that he had been l~gitimately .dismissed, and mention should b~ made as to whether he had been freed of the vows by the dismissal or a concomitant or subsequent dispensation. IV. Dismissal By Law (c. 646) 22. Definition. This dismissal is effected automatically by canon 646 itself by the very fact and at the instant that any of the three crimes specified in the canon is committed. Therefore, the law itself, not the decree or declaration of a superior, effects the dismissal. In its nature, the dismissal is a punishment in-flicted for the crime and also a means given to religious, insti-tutes to free themselves immediately of members who have perpetrated most serious crimes against the religious life. 23. Subject. The subject of the il~so facto or dismissal by law of canon 646 is any professed religious, man or woman, of solemn or any type of simple vows, whether perpetual or tem-porary, and the members who have been aggregated perpetually or temporarily in societies living in common without public vows (c. 681). A postulant or novice is not the subject, but the commission of any of these three crimes is certainly more 'than a sufficient reason for his dismissal by the decision of the competent superior. ~6 Cf. Fanfani, De lure Religiosorum, 703-705. 283 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious 24. "Religious who have publicly apostatized from the Catholic faith" (c. 646, § 1, 1°). The crime is simply public apostasy from the Catholic faith. (a) Simply. The canon does not demand that the religi-ous have joined a non-Christian sect, e. g., Judaism, Buddhism, Mohammedanism. The crime can be" verified either in or out of such a sect. "(b) Public (c. 2197, 1°). In the case of a religious, a crime is public when it is actually known or is in serious and immediate danger of being known by at least a notable part of the mem-bers of the religious house to which the delinquent is attached.1~ It is not necessary that such knowledge or danger extend.to the province, institute, or to externs. External apostasy that has not attained this publicity does not effect dismissal by law. (c) Apostasy from the Catholic faith (c. 1325, ~ 2). Apos-tasy is the act of a baptized person who formally" denies or positively doubts about the entire Christian-faith. The unbap-tized are infidels, not apostates, heretics, or schismatics. Formally means that there must be a subjective mortal sin in the act. A doubt is the suspension of the acceptance of the intellect. A positive doubt is had when the intellect judges that there are sufficient reasons for affirming and denying the proposition, that the reasons on neither side are convincing, and therefore the intellect suspends assent to the proposition. In a negative doubt, the intellect suspends assent because it does not p~rceive reasons either for affirming or 'denying the proposition. This is to be classed rather as ignorance. As in heresy, /~ positive doubt constitutes an injury to the faith and is sufficient four apostasy.18 The one who so doubts has had the truth suffi-ciently proposed to him, but he positively judges that the truth is not sufficiently proposed and that contrary reasons make it uncertain. ~ Cf. Michiels, De Delictis et Pornis, 117-18. ~8 Ciprotti, De Consummatione Delictorum, 15; Coronata, o,O. cir., IV, n. 1856. 284 Septe,~be~', 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES Apostasy is a denial or positive doubt concerning the entire Christian faith, e. g., the existence of God, the fact or possibility of the Christian revelation, the fact or possibility of the supernatural order. Apostasy is therefore distinguished from heresy or schism. A heretic is a baptized person who formally denies or positively doubts about one or some dogmas of faith. A schismatic is a baptized person who formally refuses to submit to the spiritual authority of the Roman Pontiff or to communicate with the other members of the Church (c. 1325, ~ 2). Canon 646 mentions only apostasy and thus inflicts dis-missal by law only on apostates, not on heretics or schismatics. (d) Excommunication (c. 2314). An apostate incurs by the very fact of the apostasy an excommunication reserved in a special manner to the Holy See. An excommunication demands merely that the act be external and not that it be public. 25. "A religious man who h~as run away with a woman or a religious woman who has run away with a man" (c. 646, ~ I, 2°). The crime will be explained with a religious man as the subject. Four notes are required to constitute this crime. The last three are only probably required in theory but are certainly necessary in fact to effect the dismissaI (cc. 15, 19). (a) The religious man must be united physically or morally in flight from one place to another with a woman. It is not required that the r.eligious be an apostate or fugitive from religion in the canonical sense of canon 644J" Flight in canon 646 has the common and ordinary sense of running away with a woman. The crime, is completed as soon as this notion is verified, without any consideration whatever of the length of absence from the religious house. The intention of returning or not returning, of contracting or not contracting marriage has nothing to do with the crime. Both must flee, since the canon demands that the religious man have run away with a woman. This is verified physically if both start out from the religious house; it is verified morally. 19 Cf. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, May, 1957, 155-64. 285 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for "Religious if the religious alone flees in virtue of a previous agreement to meet the woman. The moral union is caused l~y the previous agreement; if such an agreement does not exist, there is no flight. In a doubt, this agreement is'to be presumed if.there was an illicit attachmehr or familiarity beforehand and union shortly after the departure of the religious; otherwise the agree-ment must be proved. The dismissal is effected at the begin-ning. of the flight. The flight described above is always neces, sary. Without such flight, neither concubinage nor the illicit leaving of the. house to sin with a woman, even though done frequently and furtively, constitutes the crime. When tlqe flight of this canon is difficult to prove, as is often true, an investiga-tion is to be made as to the existence of a marriage ceremony. It is rare in such cases that the woman does not insist on some form of marriage ceremony. (b) Probably the motive of the ,flight must be the satisfaction of lust. The iaecessity of such a motive is implicit in the text of the law and is part of the common notion of running away with a woman. Ordinarily this motive is to be presumed as soon as the other notes are verified.2° (c) Probably the woman must have attained puberty and not be a relative by blood or marriage in the direct line (mother, grandmother, etc.) or in the first degree .o~ the collateral line (sister) of the religious man. Puberty in a girl is attained can-onically on the day after the twelfth birthday, in a boy on the day after the fourteenth birthday (c. 88, § 2). The correspond-ing relatives will apply in the case of a religious woman, i. e., father, grandfather, brother. The necessity of this note is founded on the extrinsic authority of several authors. It has little foundation in the text of the law. The sense of the law is rather that the lustful motive is presumed not to exist with such persons but, if proved, the crime exists. Otherwise, the state of the woman is indifl:erent. It is of no import that she z°Cf. Tabera, Ol~. cir., 11-1930-416; Goyeneche, oil. cir., 209; Vermeersch, Periodica, 19-1930.122". 286 September, 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES is married, unmarried, capable or incapable of contracting marriage validly;. (d) Probably proof must exist of the preceding, requisites. The probability of this doctrine arises from the fact that the other two crimes of canon 646, public apostasy and marriage, are of their nature capable of proof and from the extrinsic authority of some authors. If the religious has verified the other notes but the crime is so secret that this fourth note is not verified, he is not dismissed by law."~l Any proof that gives moral certi-tude suffices, e. g., the testimony of reliable witnesses. (e) Excommunication (c. 2385). Obviously the flight described above will usually also imply apostasy from religion if the religi-ous has perpetual vows and thus the incurring i/)so fdcto of an excommunication reserved to the ordinary.-~" 26. "A religious who attempts or contracts marriage, even the so-called civil marriage" (c. 646, § 1, 3°). The crime is the contracting (validly) or the attempting (invalidly) of marriage by any type of Catholic, non-Catholic, or civil ceremony pro-vided both parties gave a naturally valid consent. The form of celebration of a civil marriage must be valid according to the civil law of the place of celebration. A solemn vow of chastity renders marriage invalid; a simple vow forbids but does not invalidate marriage. The crime presupposes a marriage consent valid" from the natural law and is not verified if the consent is vitiated in either party by an essential defect, e. g., ignorance, simulation, physical violence, grave fear. However, it is to be presumed that true consent was given; and this pre-sumption is sufficient to declare the religious~dismissed. In itself, the invalidity of the marriage does not exclude the crime, i. e., the crime is still verified if the marriage is invalid because it was attempted outside the Church or because of a diriment impedi-ment. ~lGoyeneche, Quaestiones Canonicae, II, 153; Schaefer, op. cir., n. 1578; Bas-tien, op. cir., 446, note 2; Jone, o~0. tit., 572; Jombart, RevUe des Communautets Religieuses, 6-1930-148. 22 Cf. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, May, 1957, 158. 287 JOSEPH ~. GALLEN Review for Religious Excommunications (cc. 2388; 2319, § 1, I°~; 2385). By presum-ing to attempt marriage, both a solemnly professed religious and the other party incur an excommunication reserved simply to the Holy See (c. 2388, §.1); if the vows of the religious are simple but perpetual, the presuming to contract or attempt marriage is punished in both parties by an excommunication reserved to the ordinary (c. 2388, § 2). If the marriage is attempted before a non-Catholic minister, the punishment of a Catholic is an excommunication reserved to the ordinary (c. 2319, § 1, 1°). A marriage ceremony implies an intention never to return to the institute and thus results in an excommunication for apostasy from religion reserved to the ordinary in the case of a religious of perpetual vows (c. 2385). A civil ceremony is not punished by the code, but in some dioceses of the United States it is punished by an excommunication reserved to the o~dinary and in some others it constitutes a reserved sin. 27. Effects (c. 646, ~ 1). Upon the commission of any of the three crimes, the religious is immediately an.d i~pso facto dis-missed, by canon 646. This dismissal by law is a legitimate dis-missal and produces all the effects of the ordinary dismissal by decree. Therefore, in the case of a professed of temporary vows, the effects are ~he same as those described in n. 14; if the religious is. of p.erpetual vows, the effects are those of the'ordinary dismissal exp!ain~d in n. 21. 28. Declaration of fact (c. 646, ~ 2). This canon commands the higher superior with the consultive vote of his council to make a declaration of fact concerning the crime. Some con-stitutions restrict this right to the superior general, and some also demand a deliberative vote of the council. In monasteries of nuns, the declaration is to be made by the superioress of the monastery with the consultive or deliberative vote of the council or chapter as commanded by the constitutions. The declaration of fact is merely a description of the pertinent points of the case, the headings of the proof, e. g., a copy of the marriage record, statement of witnesses, etc., and the conclu- 288 September, 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES sion that the religious ~was dismissed in virtue of canon 646. The local superior is ordinarily in the best position to secure these proofs, e. g., the statements of witnesses. Frequently a trustworthy man such as a lawyer or priest should be deputed to secure some of the proofs in the case of an institute of women, e. g., the copy of the marriage record. The declara-tion and proofs are to be retained in the secret files of the house of the higher superior who made the declaration. The pur-pose of the declaration is to possess proof of the automatic dismissal and to prevent future doubts and difficulties, particu-larly for the eventuality of a recourse by the subject to the local ordinary or the Holy See. V. Provisional Sending Back to Secular Life (c. 653) 29. Subject. The subject of thi~ provisional return is any pro-fessed religious, man or woman, and any aggregated member of a society living in common (c. 681). Canon 653 speaks explicitly only of the perpetually professed; but afortiori, from afialogy of law, the common opinion of authors, and the practice of the Holy See in approving constitutions, the same canon applies to the professed of only temporary vows and to the aggregated members whose bond with the society is only tem-porary. 30. Reasons required. The reason must be either of the fol-lowing: (a) Grave external scandal. This is a culpable defamatory act, committed within or outside the religious house, which is well known outside the house or known only to a few externs, who, however, will not keep the matter a secret, e. g., a sin against good morals. (b) Very serious imminent injury to the community. This is an extraordinary injury or harm certainly and proximately threatening at least reductively, not merely one or some individ-uals but the religious house, province, or institute. The religious must be the cause of this harm but it is not certain that he 289 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for" Religious must be a culpable cause. Examples of this reason are the proximate judicial accusation of a defamatory crime in either the moral or political order; sexual actions with students in an institute devoted to education when it is foreseen that these wil][ become public and bring infamy on the house, province, or institute; a serious threat to set the house on fire or against the life of a superior or another member of the institute; and a serious loss of temporal property of the house, province or institute. (c) Three conditions required in both cases. Since such an extraordinary action should not be taken against a religious because of mere probability, conjecture, or suspicion, the ex-istence of the cause must be certain; it must also be impossible to avoid the scandal or harm in other ways, e. g., by transferring the religious to another house; and there must be at least prob-ability that the scandal or harm can be averted or appreciably diminished by the provisional return to secular life. 31. Competent authority. (a) Ordinarily. Canon 653 gives the right for such action in lay institutes to the higher superior with the consent of his council. The right is therefore given by the ~ode also to provincials, even though the constitutions may affirm it only of the superior general. In prudence and if possible, the provincial should refer the case to the superior general or at least consult the latter. In a monastery of nuns, "the competent authority is the superioress with the consent of her council. (b) In a more urgent case. In a case in which the time re-quired for recourse to the superior general or provincial would imperil the avoidance of the scandal or injury, the competent authority is the local superior with the consent of his council and also the consent of the local ordinary. If it is impossible to have recourse to the local ordinary and the case will not admit _.3 Berutti, De Religiosis, 349; Bouscaren-Ellis, Canon La~w, 319. 290 September, 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES o~. delay, it is.safely probable that this action may be taken by the local superior with only the consent of his council.'~4 32. Final adjudication of the case. (a) Report. A report of the case should always be made out without delay and submitted to the authority competent for a final decision of the matter. The report is to contain the religious and family name of the subject, date, age, date of entrance, date of temporary or perpetual profession, house to which he was assigned at the time of the return to secular life, cause of this return, proofs and present state of this cause, a brief record of the past of the religious insofar as it is pertinent to the cause 6f his return and dismissal, the name and rank of the superior who effected the return, the fact that the consent of the council and of the local ordinary, when prescribed, was obtained; and, if the latter was not secured, the report is to state the reasons that'justified its omission. (b) Authority competent for a final decision. Canbn 653 states that the case is to be referred to the Holy See without delay. This canon, however, is to be interpreted in the light of the other canons on the competent authority for dismissal; and it is admitted doctrine that the authority competent for an ordinary dismissal by decree is competent also for the final decision in the case of a provisional return to secular life.~'~ Therefore, the case is to be referred, according to the nature of the institute and the vows of the subject, to the authority competent for dismissal by decree stated in nn. 2-5. 33. Effects. As soon as the provisional return is decided, the re-ligious puts off the religious habit and leaves the institute. The return to secular life is a provisional measure. It is not a dismissal and does not produce the effects of a dismissal. The competent authority mentioned above decides for or against dismissal and 24Cf. Tabera, 0p. tit., 14-1933-58; Goyeneche, De Religiosis, 221, note 31; Palombo, op. cir., n. 192; Schaefer, 0iL cir., n. 1609; O'Neill, The Dismissal of Religious in Temporary l/o~vs, 104. 25Cf. O'Neill, op. cir., 103-104; Schaefer, op. cir., n. 1636; Wernz-Vidal De Religiosis, 490, note 13; Bastien, o~0. cir., n. 645, 4; Palombo, op. cir., n. 195; Tabera, op. cir., 14-1933-57; Vermeersch-Creusen, Epitome luris Canonicl, I, n. 807. 291 JOSEPH F. GALLEN decrees the dismissal in the t~ormer case. The charitable subsidy is to be given to a religious woman who is provi~ionally sent back to secular lithe.2° SOME BOOKS RECEIVED [Only books sent directly to the Book Review Editor, West Baden College, West Baden Springs, Indiana, are included in our Reviews and Announcements. The following books were sent to St. Marys.] The 1957 National Catholic Almanac. Edited by Felician A. Foy, O.F.M. St. Anthony's Guild, Paterson, New Jersey. $2.00 (paper cover). Does God Exist? By Alfred M. Mazzei. Translated by Daisy Corinne Fornacca. Society of St. Paul, New York, N.Y. $3.50. St. Bernadette Speaks. By Albert Bessi~res, S.J. Translated by The Earl of Wicklow. Clonmore & Reynolds Ltd., 29 Kildare St., Dub-lin. 10/6. Queen of Heaven. By Ren~ Laurentin. Translated by Gordon Smith. Clonmore & Reynolds Ltd., 29 Kildare St., Dublin, 12/6. Le Ciel ou l'Enfer. II. l'Enfer. By Chanoine G. Panneton. Beau-chesne et ses Fils, Rue de Rennes, Paris. Methods of Prayer in the Directory of the Carmelite Reform of Touraine. By Kilian J, Healy, O. Carm. Institutum Carmelitanum, Via Sforza Pallavicini, 10, Rome. Some Philosophers on Education. Edited by Donald A. Gallagher. Marquette University Press, 1131 Wisconsin Ave., Milwaukee 3, Wis-consin. $2.50 (paper cover). Wellsprings of the Faith. By Most Reverend John C. McQuaid, D.D. Clonmore & Reynolds Ltd., 29 Kildare St., Dublin. 18/-. The Reluctant Abbess. By Margaret Trouncer. Sheed and Ward, 840 Broadway, New York 3, New York. $3.75. Quadalupe to Lourdes. "By Frances Parkinson Keyes. Catechetical Guild Educational Society, St. Paul 2, Minnesota. $0.50 (paper cover). The Mystery of My Future. By Jean De Larhove. Society of St. Paul, 2187 Victory Blvd., Staten Island 14, New York. $2.50. Of the Imitation of Christ. By Thomas a Kempis. Translated by Abbot Justin McCahn. The New American Library of World Literature, Inc., 501 Madison Ave., New York 22, New York. $0:50 (paper cover). The Caiholic Booklist 1957. Edited by Sister Mary Luella, O.P. Rosary College, River Forest, Illinois. $0.75 (paper cover). ¯ _,6 Cf. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOt;S, September, 1956, 235-36. 292 Our Supernat:ural Organism Daniel J./~. Callahan, $.J. GOD IS THE author of all things. The more science ad-vances, the more does it disclose the wonders of His crea-tion. Even a superficial reading of a manual of biology or physics or chemistry or astronomy wrings from us the words of the Psalmist: "How great are thy works, O Lord. Thou hast made all things in wisdom; the earth is filled with thy riches" (Ps. 103:24 ). These divine masterpieces, especially as mani-fested in man, qualify us by analogy for the marvels of the supernatura! order. God gives life in the embryonic state and with it an or-ganism capable of developing the tiny creature into the pleni-tude of its specific perfection. The fundamental natural prin-ciple of this evolution is the vital principle within it, which energizes it and is the source of its least activity. Its separation from the bodily element would mean the termination of growth, deterioration, death. In us the human soul is the basic source of our natural life; its faculties or powers are the immediate cause of our vital activities and these in turn bring to perfec-tion our human life. To all this the supernatural is closely analogous as will appear from a brief study of the components of its organism. Sanctifying Grace Appropriately this may be styled the soul of the higher life in us. Only from divine revelation do we know its exis-tence and nature, and it will be useful to recall here what rev-elation tells us about this precious endowment. It is something most real; a spiritual quality inherent in our soul and of such an excellence'that only God could be its principal cause; it is a stable quality, an adornment abiding in the soul till forfeited through mortal sin; it is a totally free gift to which no one of us could lay claim and which transforms us into God:like 293 DANIEL J. M. (~ALLAHAN Review for Religious beings resembling our eternal Father and enabling us to share, in a finite manner, in His life. That life comprises the infinite contemplation;, love, and possession of His uncreated perfec-tion. To this no creature by its native powers could aspire. By a privilege entirely gratuitous God destines us for the immediate visiofi of Himself in heaven and adapts us ~or it through sanctifying grace. Attended by faith; hope, and charity such grace equips us to know, love, possess God, imperfectly, of course," as He knows, loves, and possesses Himself; and thus we enter into the divine life and become truly His children. And while this life is distinct from our natural life, it is not merely superimposed on the latter: it penetrates it through and through, elevating and transforming it. Leaving intact all the natural goodness that is ours, sanctifying grace imparts a new orientation to everything within us, establishes new relations to the Blessed Trinity, and inaugurates on earth the life of the blessed. To aid us in the apprehension of this prerogative, writers resort to many comparisons and illustrations. They liken the soul to a living image of the adorable Trinity., divinely impressed on the soul as the seal leaves its image on the wax, lavishing on it an entrancing beauty since the prototype and the artist is no other than God. Again such a soul is compared to a trans-parent body receiving the sun's rays and, all aglow" itself, radiating them in all directions; to a bar of steel plunged into a furnace and sharing the heat, brightness, and pliancy of the fire; to a branch engrafted into a plant, maintaining its identity while partaking of the life of the plant; to the union in us of soul and body where the soul quickens and energizes the body even as grace communicates a new life and effects our most intimate union with God. Finally, an analogy with the hypo-static union in Christ is introduced; and, though the soul's union with God is only accidental, yet it is the union of a substance with a substance; and, while the hypostatic union results in the God-man, the union through grace issues in a God-like being, 294 September, 1957 OUR SUPERNATURAL ORGANISM whose actions are performed at once by the Creator and His creature, even as in Christ His actions were shared in by both His divine and human nature. And though our union with God is neither hypostatic nor substantial in the proper sense, for we always retain our personality and the union is only accidental, it is not merely the intimacy of two friends, for it rests on a/physical quality abiding in the soul and on physical bonds intensifying and safeguarding that union. The three Divine Persons are immediately presefit to the soul in a com-pletely new way and are possessed and enjoyed by it. Though the precise nature of this extraordinary inhabitation continues to exercise theologians, we are assured that it is capable of indefinite expansion up to the last breath of life here below, and this in p.roportion to our surrender to the Holy Spirit through the removal of all barriers and the cultivation of the infused virtues and the gifts of the Holy Ghost. The Infused Virtues In the natural order our soul functions through its faculties or powers. It thinks through the intellect; .it loves through the will; it senses through our different senses. These faculties bestowed on us together with the soul, by means of their varied activities, are susceptible of tremendous development. In the supernatural order grace parallels the soul, and the infused virtues are its chief faculties. These emanate from sanctifying grace, elevate our mind and will, enable us to perform supernatural, meritorious deeds. Virtue may be described as a good habit designed for action. It is natural if it has been acquired through the repeti-tion of the same specific act and communicates facility in doing so; if directly granted by God and if it confers the ability to do something, it is called infused. The natural virtues facilitate nat-ural righte6usness; the infused confer the power to act on a superhuman level. These latter are usually divided into theologi-cal and moral. The former have God for their formal and principal material object; in the concrete they are faith, hope, and charity and unite the soul directly to God. The moral 295 DANIEL J. M. CALLAHAN Review for Religious virtues have for their objective some moral good distinct from God, serve to eliminate the hindrances to divine union and to stabilize it, and are commonly listed under the four cardinal vi£tues. The theological virtues certainly accompany sanctifying grace and integrate the process of justification, and it is the generally accepted doctrine that the moral virtues also are then bestowed. ¯ All of these virtues are susceptible of increment and 'do increase proportionally with the increase of grace, just as the branches of the tree ke~p pace with the expansion of the trunk. Apart from the complete loss of the virtue, may they diminish? In general, any activity that is discontinued or exercised bnly rarely tends to decline or even to cease. Venial sins, especially when frequent and deliberate, considerably impede the practice of virtue and thus diminish the facility previously attained. Neglect of actual graces may likewise occ~lsion the privation of such helps as notably conduce to acts of virtue and add vigor and polish to them. And though venial sins do not directly decrease or destroy the infused virtues, it remains true that such failings open the way for serious lapses and the destruction of th.e virtues. Do all grave sins deprive us of these? Faith is destroyed only through a mortal sin of infidelity, hope through the same and that of despair; charity and the infused moral virtues, through any mortal sin. Relative to the duration ot~ all such virtues, in the lost none of them persists; the theological remain in the souls in purgatory; in heaven there will be neither acts of faith nor of hope relative to God, and most probably not relative to objects distinct from Him. And whereas neither the moral virtues nor those of faith and hope will endure in the blessed, these will retain the virtue of charity and live a life of the purest actual love. The Gifts of the Holy Spirit There is unanimity among Catholic theologians about the existence of such gifts, but their specific nature is widely contro-verted. In accordance with the doctrine of St. Thomas (Summa, 296 September, ~957 OUR SUPERNATURAL ORGANISM I-II, q. 68, a. 3), the most prevalent opinion is that they are supernatural habits, distinct from the virtues, implanted in the soul conjointly with sanctifying grace, which impart a recep-tiveness, a docility to the impulse of the Holy Spirit, a more prompt and more generous cooperation with His grace. They would appear to be, at least in the early stages, not operative habits like the virtues, but rather dispositive, adjusting the soul for a better reaction to the divine intervention. Their func-tion, then, is that 0f perfecting the exercise of the virtues. There is no certainty about their number; and, while conferred simultaneously with grace, a more copious outpouring may be the fruit of the sacrament of confirmation. The docility issu-ing from these' gifts improves perceptibly through prayer for fidelity to grace, through a life of faith and recollection, through the cultivation of the moral virtues and due control over our passions, for unless these latter are consistently mortified, the inordinate attachments in the soul will hamper us in discerning, accepting, and responding to the inspirations of grace. We must combat the spirit of the world which is diametrically op-posed to the divine and school ourselves in prompt, magnani-mous compliance with God's will. The more complete our surrender' to Him, the more will He be pleased to enlighten and inflame us. Actual Grace just as in the natural order we cannot bring power into motion without the concurrence of the Almighty, so also in the supernatural. Such cooperation is known as actual grace to distinguish it from habitual grace previously considered. It is a transitory aid imparted by God, consisting in the illumina-tion of the mind and the urge of the will for the performance of a supernatural act. It sets the intellect and heart in motion and enables them to function on a superhuman level. In the concrete, it is a holy thought, a salutary incitement of the will, produced by God who directly influences our rational faculties, stimulating them to operate, and cooperating with them to 297 DANIEL J. M. CALLAHAN Review for Religious elicit a good thought and a salutary desire in keeping with the special need of the moment. The thought is most real and comes directly'from God; it is a holy thought, designed for the spiritual benefit of the individual. When we say "salutary desire," we understand any good act of the will, for instance, the love of good, hatred of evil, fear of divine punishment, sorrow for sin, joy 'in well-doing. It is a real act of the will. Antecedent to our activity God lovingly takes the initiative and continues to act within us and with. us for the accomplishment of a deed that will conduce to life eternal. This assistance is not permanent; it persists only while its purpose lasts; and it influences us in a moral way through attraction and persuasion and physically by adding energy to our intellectual faculties too weak to act of themselves. As religious we are to be profoundly penetrated with the conviction of our need of such divine assistance. It is necessary for the achievement of every supernatural act: for the prelim-inary acts of faith, hope, sorrow requisite for the remission of sin. The constant endeavor to resist temptations which assail even the just, as well as our steadfastness in good living, are the fruits of actual grace. Obviously, then, we have not the power to persevere in religion and even to reach perfection through our unaided strength. Christ's memorable words, "Without Me you can do nothing" (Jn. 15:6), are pertinent to the natural and supernatural levels. Everyone who attains the use of reason needs this grace and all such receive it. It proceeds from the love of God; the ordinary channels for its dispensation are the sacraments, prayer, and'our meritorious deeds; and the more generous our cooperation with grace received the more will be granted, for here, as in the entire economy of salvation, God takes the initiative, awaits our free reaction, and assures us that He will" bestow th~ necessary help for the completion of our project. Conformity to the divine will, consequent peace of soul, trust, and magnanimity are supremely important in the struggle for real sanctity. 298 September, 1957 OUR SUPERNATURAL ORGANISM Appreciation "If thou didst know the gift of God" (Jn. 4:19) spoke Jesus to the Samaritan woman, referring to the supernatural life which He communicates to us through His vivifying action, here compared to water springing from an unfailing source. Religious have totally consecrated themselves to God; to Him they belong entirely; and there must be in them the life that is His. In them the supernatural must always be dominant. It is a treasure to be courageously safeguarded even at the cost of sacrifice; it is an endowment to be zealously augmented; it is a life and life is essentially progressive. Cessation of growth soon induces recession. In the wake of tepidity and lethargy spiritual death follows closely. The law of spiritual gravity is to be counteracted through p.urity of intention at all times, through earnestness even in small affairs, through fervent, per-severing prayer, and through the frequent reception of the sacraments of penance and Holy Communion. "Walk in a manner worthy of the calling with whic'h you are called," wrote 'St. Paul to the Ephesians (4:1 ff.), "with all humility and meek-ness, with patience bearing with one another in love, careful to preserve the unity of the. spirit iri the bond of peace; one body and one 'Spirit . . . one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all who is above all and .throughout all and in all." Surely a relevant injunction for all religious. OUR CONTRIBUTORS BONAVENTURE BALSAM is engaged in parish work at St. Anthony's Priory, 4640 Canal Street, New Orleans, Louisiana. JOSEPH F. GALLEN is professor of canon law at Woodstock Col-lege, Woodstock, Maryland. DANIEL J. M. CALLAHAN is profes-sor of ascetical and mystical theology at Woodstock College, Wood-stock, Maryland. 299 Survey ot: Roman Documen!:s R. ~. Smil:h, S.J. IN THIS survey only those documents will be considered which appeared in the ./Iota/lpostolicae Sedis (AAS) during the months of April and May, 1957. Hence all page references throughout the survey are to AAS of 1957 (v. 49). The African Missions On Easter Sunday, April 21, 1957 (AAS, pp. 225-48),. the Holy Father issued a new encyclical letter which is entitled Fidei Donum (TheGift of Faith) and which treats of Africa and its missions. After noting that man'.s gratitude for the gift of faith is best shown by spreading the light of Christ's truth, His Holi-ness remarks that while he is not unaware of the grave and pressing problems attending the spread of the Faith in all parts of the world, yet special attention is needed in the case of Africa, for this continent now finds itself on the threshold of its political and cultural maturity and faced with circumstances the import-ance of which is rivaled by nothing in the previous history of /~frica'. The Vicar of Christ then begins the first of the four sections into which the encyclical letter is divided. This first section is devoted to an over-all picture of the missionary scene in Africa. Most of the countries of the continent, the Pope says, are in the midst of profound social, economic, and political changes which will have a lasting effect on the fut.ure lives of these nations. The Church which has seen the rise and growth of so many nations cannot but be intensely interested in the peoples of Africa who are now attaining their civil rights. It is at this point that the Holy Father exhorts the coloniz-ing nations to grant civil rights to peoples who are prepared for them; and at the same time he urges the colonial peoples of 300 ROMAN DOCUMENTS Africa to be grateful .for .~vhat they have received from the vari-ous countries of Europe. Only such a harmonious attitude will exclude prejudice and exaggerated nationalism and will permit the peoples of Africa to experience the entire range of benefits which flow from the religion of Christ. Pius XII is especially concerned that in many countries of Africa atheistic materialism has been spreading the seed of its doctrine, thereby arousing jealousy between nations, inducing false perspectives in the matter of temporal prosperity, and excit-ing to rebellion. The presence of this atheistic materialism in Africa, thinks the Pontiff, is particularly grave owing to the fact that the peoples of Africa, because they wish to accomplish in a few years what ~he peoples of Europe took centuries to achieve, are psychologically vulnerable to the specious .promises which materialism offers. The H01y Father continues by remarking that of all the missionary regions of the world, Africa is the one with the greatest needs. African mission posts which have been estab-lished in the last ten or twenty years cannot expect a sufficient number of native clergy for a long time, while the missionaries in such stations are few and widely scattered throughout large regions where, moreover, non-Catholic religions are also spread-ing their doctrines. The gravity of the situation can be illustrated by one region of Africa where there are 2,000,000 inhabitants but only 50 priests whose energies, moreover, are completely absorbed in the care of the 60,000 persons already converted to Catholicism. Twenty more missionaries in such regions at the present time would mean, the Vicar of Christ sadly comments, the spreading of the banner of the cross in places which twenty years from now will be impossible of access. Moreover, twenty more missionaries would mean that the Church could educate in such regions a corps of African Catholics equipped to meet the social and political needs of the continent. Nor are difficulties lacking in African missionary centers which have long been established. Such centers too feel the 301 R. F. SMITH Review for Religious extreme lack of missionaries. Moreover, the bishops and vicars apostolic of Africa are obliged to provide for their flocks a full Catholic life; and this necessitates in turn schools, colleges, social institutes, all the modern communication arts. Such needs can be met only by a great flow of material and apostolic help to the continent of Africa where 85,000,000 human beings are still attached to the practice of paganism. The Holy Father centers the second part of his encyclical around the theme that the problems of the Church in Africa are not merely local difficulties, but are of vital concern to the entire Mystical Body. Bishops, those preeminent members of the Mystical Body, should have a special concern for the Church in Africa, for they as the legitimate successors of the apostles retain the duty of preaching to all nations. Moreover, continues the Holy Father, there ig not a Catholic in the world who should not be interested in the problems of the Church in Africa. Nothing that is characteristic of the Church should be absent from the mental outlook of the individual Catholic. If then catholicity or universality is one of the characteristics of that Church which is the mother of all nations, breadth of outlook must also mark the individual Catholic. In the third part of the encyclical the Holy Father dis-cusses the means by which Catholics can aid the missions of Africa. ~The first means is that of continual and earnest prayer. The best prayer, of course, will be that which Chris~, our High Priest, daily offers on our altars. And while the faith-ful should be instructed that it is good to offer Mass for their private intentions, still they should also be taught to give atten-tion to those petitions with which the Mass is primarily and neces-sarily concerned and "which include the we~Ifare and propaga-tion of the entire Church. To prayer must be added alms or material help, for present needs far exceed the help now being given. The faithful in other parts of the world should compare their conditions with the 302 September', 1957 ROMAN DOCUMENTS situations of missionary countries and see who are the real need~i of the Church. Hence the Vicar of Christ urges that each Catholic make an examination of conscience to consider if there is not something tl~at can be given up in order that material aid might be given to the missions. The third way of helping Africa is through the fostering of vocations to missionary work.~ Bishops should train their flocks in such a way that there will always be members of that flock ready to heed the Lord's command i~ Genesis 12:1 to leave one's land and the house of one's father. Dioceses with a suffi-ciency of priests should give of their workers to the missions; and even dioceses which themselves suffer from a scarcity of priestly workers can still offer their mite as did the widow in the gospel story. The problem of missionary recruitment, however, can be met only by the ~oncerted work of all the bishops who should encourage the Missionary Union of the Clergy, foster the work of pontifical missionary associations, and be aware of the needs of those religious institutes which do missionary work but which cannot increase the number of their vocations without th~ under-standing assistance of the local ordinary. Finally, the Holy Father approves the practice of a diocese lending some of its priests to missions for a limited time. The fourth part' of the encyclical consists of a brief conclu-sion in which the Holy Father repeats that he is as interested in all the missions as he is in those of Africa. To all missionaries of the entire world he extends his gratitude and his congratula-tions and exhorts them to labor fervently in the work to which they have been called. Lenten and Easter Messages On March 5, 1957 (AAS, pp. 208,15), the Holy Father gave his usual Lenten allocution to the parish priests and Lenten preachers of Rome. The present year, begins the Holy Father, marks the fifth anniversary ot: the inauguration of the movement 303 R. F. SMITH Review for Religious "Fora Better World." After detailing the work accomplished in the diocese of Rome during that period and after noting the things yet to be done, His Holiness then urges his listeners to sow the seed that is the word of God. To preach anything but the word of God, he warns them, is to sow destruction. He gives special attention to the matter of Sunday preaching, insist-ing that nothing can achieve so much as this regular and familiar custom so long in use in the Church. Finally,. he recalls to his listeners the fact that the true sower of the good seed is God and that they are but instruments in His hand; what changes then would sweep the world if all who preached did so as ones truly coming with the power of God. The Holy Father's Easter message, delivered on April 21, 1957 (AAS pp. 276-80), was a meditative reflection on the phrase "O truly blessed night" of Holy Saturday's E, xultet. The night preceding the Resurrection, His Holiness begins, was one of desolation, tears, and darkness: Christ is dead; His flock is scattered; all is apparently in ruin. Nevertheless, even in that night there are signs of the dawn to come: the body of Christ suffers not the slightest taint of corruption and Mary prays in quiet confidence and expectation. That night before the Resurrection is also a symbol, adds the Vicar of Christ, of the night in which modern men find themselves: they must live in fear; their intelligences are cap-tured by error; immorality has reached a new depth. Neverthe-less, there are signs of a new day dawning. Science is provi-dentially multiplying the means to a fuller and freer life, while technology is providing the way to make these means available on a large scale. Moreover, men are now beginning to realize that the night of modern times is here because Christ has again been betrayed and crucified. Day will finally come to modern man when Christ restores grace to the individual soul and takes His rightful place in human social life. The Holy Father con-cludes his Easter message to mankind with a prayer that Christ may send the angel of the Resurrection to remove the obstacles 304 September, 1957 ROMAN DOCUMENTS which men have built up :but which they are now powerless to remove. To Hospital Sisters On April 24, 1957 (AAS, pp. 291-96), Pius XII spoke to some 2,000 Italian hospital sisters who had met for the first time in a national meeting to discuss their common problems. The Pontiff began with a forceful statement of the part that religious women play in the life of the Church today, remarking that many branches of the Church's apostolate, especially those concerned with education and with works of chariiy, would be inconceivable without the existence of religious sisters. This said, the Holy Father then began to discuss with them the ideals of their relig-ious life. It is.a truth of our faith, he notes, that virginity is higher than the married state; for through virginity the soul achieves an immediate relationship with God that is one of absolute and indissoluble love. The virginal soul takes everything that God has given her to be a wife and mother and offers it back to Him in a complete and perpetual holocaust. In order to love God, the vi,rginal soul does not reach Him through other loves: noth-ing is interposed between such a soul and God. Hence it is that a religious must be a true spouse of our Lord, uniquely, indissolubly, and intimately united with Him. Hospital sisters then must take care that their assistance to the sick does not interfere with their spirit of absolute and perpetual devotion to God, guarding against all disordered activity which leaves them neither time nor repose for prayer to Christ. They must also guard themselves against long and frequent withdrawals from common life, that strong protection of the interior life. And they must watch carefully over their spirit of individual and collective poverty, making certain that their hospitals do not assume the character of merely money-making organizations. Turning now to their work for the sick, the Vicar of Christ notes that the existence of special institutions for the care of the 305 R. F. SMITH Review for Religious sick stemmed historically from the charity of the Church. Even today, when so many are interested in the care of the suffering, the Church will never abandon her task of caring' for the sick, for no one can take the place of the Church at the side of one who besides a body also possesses a soul whose needs and claims are often greater than those of the body. It is for this reason that the Holy Father urges hospital sis-ters to continue their work. Besides being perfect religious, they must also know and use the latest scientific methods and ap-paratus. They must train themselves to a motherly kindness that is linked with a strong element of firmness. They must lead a fully dynamic life and still retain their calm and serenity. Here the Holy Father adds that superiors must see to it that community time-schedules and practices do not make the sisters' work ineffi-cient and more difficult. In conclusion the Holy Father dwells at some length on the recommendation that the sisters train themselves always to see Christ in each of their patients. If they do so, he notes, then it will be easy to pass from the chapel to the sick room; religious observance and care for the sick will not interfere one with the other; and there will be no interruption of the sisters' union with Christ. The Holy Father then blessed the assembled sisters and concluded ~ith a remark that all hospital sisters will treasure: "The Church, the Pope, are depending on you: on your complete dedication, on your abilities, and on your spirit of love." Miscellaneous Matters Under the date March 19, 1957 (AAS, pp. 176-77), the Holy Father issued the rnotu proprio Sacram Co~nmunionern in which he provided that henceforth local ordinaries (with the exception of vicars general) may permit daily celebration of after-noon Mass provided the spiritual good of a notable part of the faithful warrants such a permission. His Holiness also further mitigated the Eucharistic fast. The drinking of water does not 306 September, 1957 ROMAN DOCUMENTS break the fast'; and the time element for the Eucharistic fast is the following: Before the celebration of Mass in the case of priests and before the reception of Communion in the case of the faithful, solid food and alcoholic drink must be abstained from for three hours, while non-alcoholic drink must be abstained from for one hour. These time regulations extend both to morning and afternoon celebration of Mass and reception of Communion; and they must also be observed by those celebrating Mass at midnight or at the early hours of the morning as well as by those receiving Communion at such times. Finally, the Holy Father grants to the sick, even those not confined to bed, the .permission to take non-alcoholic drinks as well as liquid or solid medicine at any time before the celebration of Mass or the reception of Communion: Three documents of April and May of this year concerned the saints. The first of these is an apostolic letter of the Roman Pontiff which is dated June 8, 1956 (AAS, pp. 199-200), and which appoints St. Dominic Savio the patron of all choir boys. The other two documents are decrees of the Sacred Congre- - gation of Rites, both being dated January 22, 1957 (AAS, pp. 251-56). In the first of these decrees the congregation affirms the heroic virtue of the Venerable Servant of God Sister Mary Celine of the Presentation, professed nun of the Second Order of St. Francis (1878-97); the second decree affirms the heroic virtue of the Vdnerable Servant of God Sister Teresa of Jesus Journet Ibars, foundress of the Congregation of Little Sisters of the Indigent Aged (1843-97). Priests will be interested in the Holy Father's letter, dated March 25, 1957 (AAS, pp. 272-75), and sent to Cardinal Feltin of Paris on the.occasion of the 300th anniversary of the death of Jean-Jacques Olier, founder of the Society of St. Sulpice. - Olier, the Holy Father notes, recalls to the present generation the truth that the greatness and power of a priest consists in being a man of God and a man of ihe Church. As a man of God the priest must have two indispensable qualities: prayer 307 R. F. SMITH Review for Religious exercised especially through meditation and the Divine Office; and asceticism, manifested principally by a perfect chastity of heart and body. The priest then must always be aware that union with God is the indispensable prerequisite for apostolic fecundity and that the cross is the only instrument of salvation: evil is still cast out only by prayer and fasting. As a man of the Church, concludes the Holy Father, the priest must realize that all personal sanctity and apostolic effectiveness must be founded on constant and-exact obedience to the hierarchy. ¯ Several documents of the period surveyed are concerned in one way or another with matters educational and intellectual. On March 24, 1957 (AAS, pp. 281-87), the Holy Father addressed a group of 50,000 college students of Rome and gave them some detailed advice on their studies, urging them to dedicate them-selves completely to the pursuit of truth. A month later on April 25, 1957 (AAS, pp. 296-300), His Holiness spoke to the members of the eleventh plenary assembly of Pax Romana, telling them that no Catholic can be indifferent to the new world com-munity now in process of formation. This is especially true, he says, of Catholics engaged in intellectual work, for it is their task to spread Catholic truth and to give it practical application in all areas of human activity. Educational and intellectual matters also figure in two decrees issued by the Sacred Congregation of Seminaries and Universities. In the first of these decrees, dated-November 4, 1956 (AAS, pp. 219-20), provision is made for the canonical erection of a faculty of theology in Sophia University in Tokyo. In the other decree, dated December 20, 1956 (AAS, p. 308), . a faculty of philosophy was canonically erected in the Catholic University of Quito. Thre~ documents of April and May of this year pertain to political matters. On February 16, 1957 (AAS, pp. 201-5), a c-onvgntion was ratified betweeri the Holy See and the German Federal State of North-Rhine-Westphalia concerning the estab-lishment of a new diocese of Essen. On March 28, 1957 (AAS, 308 September, 1957 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS pp. 287-88), the Pontiff:addressed a group of young Berlin Catholics, telling them that the state must always respect the rights of individuals and of families and adding a plea for a united Europe and for the moral conditions without which such a union can never be realized. On Aprii 28, 1957 (AAS, pp. 300-301), the Pope gave a brief address on Communism, empha-sizing that the events of the last fdw months have clearly shown' to all men the aberrations of that way of life. Two other documents may be mentioned by way of conclud-ing this survey. On March 6, 1957 (AAS, pp. 215-17), the Holy Father sent a radio message to the school children of the United States exhorting them to be generous in contributing help for the needy children of other countries. And on Apri'l 23, 1957 (AAS, pp. 289-90), His Holiness spoke to a small group of Paris lawyers, extolling their° dignity as men devoted to the defense of law and of humanity and remarking that their profession is noteworthy as showing the value of humanism in a world where technical and scientific education is at a premium. Questions and Answers [The following answers are given by Father Joseph F. GaIlen, S.J., professor of canon law at Woodstock Coll~ge, Woodstock, Maryland.'] 29 Are the professed of temporary vows obliged by canon law to return to the motherhouse two months before perpetual profession, remain there, and prepare for this profession? No. You are applying to the professed of temporary vows what an instruction of the Sacred Congregation-of Religious, November 3, 1921, had commanded only for novices employed in the external works of a congregation during the second year of noviceship. The code does not even command a retreat before perpetual profession. The constitutions almost universally prescribe such a retreat, and the usual duration is eight full. days. A shorter retreat is also found, for" 309 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Review for Religioue example, five or six days. It seems evidvnt enough that the constitu-tions or customs should command a retreat before perpetual profession. It would also be reasonable and profitable to prescribe a longer period of greater recollection .before perpetual profession. REVIEW FOR RE-LIGIOUS, September, 1953, 267; November, 1955, 313. --30-- Hasn't the movement of renovation and adaptation suggested any new laws whatsoever concerning poverty? This movement is primarily spiritual, theological, educational, formative, and apostolic. It is only very secondarily canonical or legal. Therefore, in the matter of poverty the emphasis of the move-ment is on the striving for detachment that. leads to an intensified love of God (REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, November, 1955, 302; September, 1956, 269-70). No new laws on poverty have been enacted by the Holy See, and no important suggestion for a new law has been made by authors with regard to the poverty of solemn profession. In the 'matter of the poverty of institutes of simple vows, suggestions have been.maple for inclusion in constitutions that are being origitxally approved or revised. The purpose of these suggestions is to make the poverty of simple p*ofession at least approach that of solemn profession. They are founded on the principle that in itself it is more in accord with evangelical poverty to give away one's property than to retain it for life and to be deprived or restricted in the right of acquiring property for oneself than to retain this right in an almost unlimited manner. The su.ggestions are thus reducible to two headings. 1. Right of acquisition. A limitation of the right of acquisition is according to the mind of the Sacred Congregation of Religious. In new or revised constitution~, congregations of men or women may in-clude an article of the following type: "After profession, whether of temporary or perpetual ~,ows, the religious acquire for themselves only property received as an inheritance or legacy from relatives to the second degree. All other temporal goods are acquired for the con-gregation." This practice may be followed only by institutes that have such a provision in their approved constitutions. An article of this nature would effect a purer poverty and would also eliminate some practical 310 September, 1957 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS difficulties and abuses. The meaning of relativ.es may be confined to blood relatives or extended also to relatives by marriage. The degrees would be computed according to canon law. 2. Giving away or renouncing one's property. New or revised con-stitutions of women may contain an ~rticle of the following type: "A professed sister, whether of temporary or perpetual vows, may not alienate the ownership of her property by a free gift effective during her lifetime. However, the professed of perpetual vows may (or, are counselled to) give all the property they own to the congregation under the form of a dowry." The similar article for institutes of men would be: "A professed religious, vShether of temporary or per-petual vows, may not alienate the ownership of his property by a free gift effective during his lifetime. However, the professed of perpetual vows may (or, are counselled toI give all the property they own to the congregation under the condition that the capital sum will be restored to them if they should leave or be dismissed." Either of the practices of the preceding paragraph, since they are not contrary to the code, may be ~ollowed even if not contained in the constitutions. The second sentence in Zither article may be introduced by an apt spiritual phrase, e. g., lCor their greater sancti-fication, for their greater poverty, for the greater purity of their evangelical poverty. There would be no difficulty also in applying either practice to the professed of temporary vows. In both cases the capital sum of the property will be restored to a religious who leaves, is excluded from further profession, or is dismissed. This fact would pro.tect the right of the religious to leave, if he wishes to do so, aad ,~iould also prevent want in the case of a departure, both of which constitute the purpose of the retention of property in congregations. Neither practice would prevent the religious from applying part or all of the income oa his property to other good purposes, e. g., to needy relatives, nor, with the permissioa of the Holy ~;ee, all or part of the capital sum of his personal property. However, it does not seem contrary to the mind of the Sacred Congregation for new or revised constitutions not merely to permit or counsel but to impose either practice with regard to all the personal property of a religious (REvIsw FOP, RELIGIOUS, September, 1953, 258-59; Escudero, /Iota et Documenta Congressus Generalis de Statib'us Per[ectionis, I, 377; Muzzarelli, ibid., 430-31). 311 ~UEsTIONS AND ~NSWERS ~31m What is the law for the last Gospel according to the simplified rubrics? The last Gospel is always that of St. John except in the third Mass on Christmas and low Masses on Palm Sunday at which the palms are not blessed. Cf. Bugnini-Bellocchio, De Rubricis ad Sira-pliciorem Formam Redi#endis, 69; Bugnini, The Simpli/ication of the Rubric, s, 113; J. B. O'Connell, Simpii[yin# the Rubrics, 71; The Cele-bration o[ Mass, 178. What Mass may be said on the Saturday of Our Lady (S. Maria in Sabbato)? The Mass of the Saturday of Our Lady; the Daily Mass of the Dead and any votive Mass that is not of the BlesSed Mother, but both of these, if low, are forbidden during the three periods of January 2-5; January 7-12; and Ascension-Vigil of Pentecost; and the Mass of an occurring simple feast or mere commemoration, e. g., on Jan-uary 5, 19; July 13, 27; August 3; September 28; October 5, 26 in the ordo of the Universal Church for 1957. As stated above, the only Mass of the Blessed Mother permitted is that of S. Maria in Sabbato. Cf. Wuest-Mullaney-Barry Matters Liturgical, n. 252. --33-- What should be done if a check in a small amount is received for your own personal, use? Endorse the check and drop it in the treasurer's box. The inten-tion of such a donor is certainly not that the religious should sin by using the money without permission. Neither are we to presume that a donor intends that the religious should make use of the gift in a way that is contrary to the greater perfection of the religious. Externs are fully conscious that the religious is in the state of perfection and that his life should be distinguished by renunciation and self-denial. They are readily scandalized at the lack of these qualities. If you have any material necessity, the more perfect time to ask for it is not on the occasion of receiving a gift. Cf. gEVlEW FOg gELIG~OUS, January, 1949, 39. 312 Book Reviews [Material for this department should be sent to Book Review Editor, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, West Baden College, West Baden Springs, Indiana.] THE ROMAN CATACOMBS AND THEIR MARTYRS. By Lud-wig Hertling, S.J., and Engelb~rt Kirschbaum, S.J. Translated from the German by M. Joseph Costelloe, S.J. Pp. 224. The Bruce Publishing Company, Milwaukee I. 1956. $3.50. It is a pleasure to ir~troduce this excellent hook to readers of the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. The subject is nowhere so well presented, to my knowledge, within the compass of one modest volume. It is com-petent; it is well ordered; it is readable; it is warm with the sympathies of the Christian tradition of culture. Archaeology, in all its branches, has a remarkable appeal to many people today, no doubt becauseit brings to them a new and vivid revelation.of the community of human nature with itself. The catacombs of Rome, with their touching expression of the pi.eties of our forefathers in the faith, reveal to Christians the communion of saints. A Catholic feels wonderfully at home in these ancient resting places of our dead. The authors are professors of ecclesiastical history and of achae-ology, respectively, in the Gregorian University and scholars of estab-lished authority in their fields. Father Kirschbaum was one of the four commissioned by Pius XII to investigate the reputed site, under the high altar of St. Peter's, of the apostolic tomb. A brief account of the results Of their quest is among the points of major interest in this book. Father Costelloe'meets with ease the two great exigencies of the translator's art, faithfulness to the thought of his author and to the idiom of his reader. A skilled initiate in Roman archaeology, he can write so clearly about these matters which he understands so well. With the praiseworthy permission of Fathers Hertling and Kirsch-baum, he has added his own notes to theirs and some quite new matter in the body of the book, known through the advance reports of explorations yet unpublished. By this positive contribution, he gives to English readers a welcome revision as well as a sound version of the original. 313 BOOK REVIEWS Review' for Religious The scope of the book may be indicated by running down the titles of the chapters: The Exploration of the Catacombs;. The Ceme-teries; The Tombs of the Popes; The Tombs of the Martyrs; The Tombs of the Apostles; The Persecutions; On the Way to Martyrdom; The Eucharist; Baptism; The People of God; The Art of the Cata-combs; The Creed of Catacombal Art. Forty-five plates and eight figures make an important complement to the text. By some fault of printing, twoor three of them, in my copy, are rough to the touch. Generally, the publisher has done 'a good job, and at a remarkably low price.--ED~;~,g R. SMOTH~P,S, S.J. FRANCIS OF THE CRUCIFIED. By Myles Schmitt, O.F.M.Cap. Pp. 152. The Bruce Publishing Company, Milwaukee 1. 1956. $3.00. Father Myles Schmitt, of St. Francis Capuchin College, Washing-ton, D. C., offers his readers a series of conference-chapters on the Franciscan way of perfection. Writers of general treatises on spiritual theology, such as Tanquerey and de Guibert, can present a .particular way of perfection only in skeletal form. Father Schmitt develops at suitable length the Franciscan way. At the same time, he is constantly concerned to relate it to the Christian way. For, at root, all Christian perfection is one, no matter the diversity of ways proposed for arriv-ing at it. In a way reminiscent of Gerald Vann's The Heart of Man, Father Schmitt organizes the life of perfection around the Beatitudes. His book is not as complete and detailed as Theodosius Foley's Spiritual Conferences for Religious Based on the Franciscan Ideal. Nor does it follow the life of St. Francis as closely as de Tour's Franciscan Perfection. But his choice of the Beatitudes as an organizing principle keeps the main line of argument simple, strong, and progressive and still gives him room enough to touch on a variety of subjects. Father Schmitt is especially good at describing the spiral move-merit of growth in perfection. Not only must ofie try to live more and more in accordance with his vision of the ideal; but, at the same time, one's vision must grow correspondingly in depth and p~netration. This spiral movement is particularly clear in St. Francis's religious life which began with what might be called an "inaugural vision" and grew as that vision' deepened and matured. Father Schmitt takes great pains .to delineate the initial vision of the Franciscan way, to map out 314 September, 1957 BOOK REVIEWS the s~ag'es of progress of that vis~ion, and to relate to it all growth in perfection. Basically, then, the Franciscan must focus his attention on the imitation of Christ crucified through a living out of the gospel life as envisaged by the Beatitudes. The foundation of this life is poverty leading to that poverty of personality called humility. Keeping before his eyes his nothingness in the presence of God, the~ Franciscan makes a sacrifice of himself and .thus fulfills simple justice. With mercy and simplicity, he takes on the role of peace-maker, courageous!y overcoming the opposition of a world set against Christ and at war ,with itself. His is a life of love, of devotion to the Eucharist, of love of Mary sorrowful. And oil such is his .vision, his necessary response will be apostolic action. Obviously the book's usefulness is not limited to Franciscans. Inasmuch as all the means proposed are the common heritage of Christi