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The article deals with the problems associated with the peculiarities of a single legal field development in the Russian state during the epoch of the early modern era (traditionally associated in Russian historiography with the times of a single centralized state formation and development and the emergence of autocracy as a kind of early absolutism). Using a number of provisions of modern concepts for the development of early modern states in Europe, the authors of the article put forward the thesis of a single legal field development in the Russian state during the period under consideration based on the analysis of Russian law monuments at the end of the XVth century (The Code of Law of Ivan III in 1497) and the 16th century (first of all, the code of law by Ivan IV, as well as a number of other legislative and legal acts) and judicial practice. In their opinion, this incompleteness was related with the following circumstances. First of all, the development of political and legal institutions in the early modern Russian state was of an evolutionary nature and, therefore, denied radical changes. Secondly, the poverty of the state caused the relative weakness and a slow development of "sinews of power" and,therefore, prevented the establishment of a more stringent administrative and legal control by the supreme power over the actions of local authorities. Finally, the weakness of the mentioned "sinews of power" conditioned the need of cooperation mode establishment between the supreme authority and local elites, while retaining the access to the exercise of power functions on the ground - also through the preservation of the old legal customs and traditions. Naturally, all this contributed to the preservation and the reproduction of the legal "antiquity" and, consequently, the incompleteness of legal centralization process and the formation of a single legal field throughout the country. The legal field, in the opinion of the authors of the article, had at least 2-level character all this time, the fragmented nature and the dispersion at the low-rank level. ; El artículo trata los problemas asociados con las peculiaridades de un desarrollo de campo legal único en el estado ruso durante la época moderna temprana (tradicionalmente asociado en la historiografía rusa con los tiempos de una formación y desarrollo estatal centralizado único y el surgimiento de la autocracia como una especie de absolutismo temprano). Usando una serie de disposiciones de conceptos modernos para el desarrollo de los estados modernos tempranos en Europa, los autores del artículo presentaron la tesis de un desarrollo de campo legal único en el estado ruso durante el período bajo consideración basado en el análisis de monumentos de derecho rusos a fines del siglo XV (El Código de Derecho de Iván III en 1497) y el siglo XVI (ante todo, el código de leyes de Iván IV, así como una serie de otros actos legislativos y jurídicos) y la práctica judicial . En su opinión, este estado incompleto estaba relacionado con las siguientes circunstancias. En primer lugar, el desarrollo de las instituciones políticas y legales en el estado ruso moderno temprano fue de naturaleza evolutiva y, por lo tanto, negó los cambios radicales. En segundo lugar, la pobreza del estado causó la debilidad relativa y un lentodesarrollo de "tendones de poder" y, por lo tanto, impidió el establecimiento de un control administrativo y legal más estricto por parte del poder supremo sobre las acciones de las autoridades locales. Finalmente, la debilidad de los mencionados "nervios de poder" condicionó la necesidad del establecimiento del modo de cooperación entre la autoridad suprema y las elites locales, mientras se mantiene el acceso al ejercicio de las funciones de poder sobre el terreno, también a través de la preservación de las viejas costumbres legales y tradiciones Naturalmente, todo esto contribuyó a la preservación y reproducción de la "antigüedad" legal y, en consecuencia, a la incompletitud del proceso de centralización legal y la formación de un solo campo legal en todo el país. El campo legal, en opinión de los autores del artículo, tenía al menos un carácter de dos niveles todo este tiempo, la naturaleza fragmentada y la dispersión en el nivel de bajo rango. ; O artigo trata os problemas associados com as peculiaridades de um curso de campo legal no estado ruso durante a época moderna temático (tradicionalmente associado à historiografia rusa com os tempos de uma formação e desenvolvimento estatal centralizado único e o surgimento da autocracia como una especie de absolutismo temprano). Using una serie de disposiciones de conceptos modernes para o desenvolvimento dos estados modernos templos na Europa, os autores do artigo apresentando a tese de um curso de campo legal no estado do ruso durante o período considerado de base na análise de pontos de vista ruses a fins del siglo XV (O código de direito de Iván III em 1497) e o século XVI (ante, o código de leyes de Iván IV, como uma série de atos legislativos e jurídicos) e a prática judicial. Em sua opinião, este estado incompleto está relacionado com as circunstâncias circunstanciadas. Em primeiro lugar, o desenvolvimento das instituições políticas e jurídicas no estado atual temprano naturalidade evolutiva e, por isso, os dois cambios radicais. Em segundo lugar, a pobreza do estado causou a debilidade relativa e um lento desenvolvimento de "tendões de poder" e, por que tanto, impiedoso o estabelecimento de um controle administrativo e jurídico mais estrito por parte do poder supremo sobre as ações das autoridades locales. Finalmente, a debilidad das perdas "nervos de poder" é a necessidade do estabelecimento do modo de cooperação entre a supremacia e as elites locais, mientras se mantém o acceso ao exercicio das funções de poder sobre o terreno, tambem a través de la preservación de las viejas costumbres legales y tradiciones Naturalmente, todo esto contribuído a la preservación y reproducción de la "antigüedad" legal y, en consecuencia, a incompletitud del proceso de centralización legal y la formación de un solo campo legal en todo el país . O campo legal, na opinião dos autores do artigo, com o menos um carácter dos niveles todo este tempo, a natureza fragmentada e a dispersão no nivel de bajo rango.

Book reviewed in this article: THIS IS THE ABC: The Australian Broadcasting Commission 1932–1983. By K. S. lnglis assisted by Jan Brazier. STRATEGY AND DEFENCE: Australian Essays. Edited by Desmond Ball. SIR THOMAS PLAYFORD: A Portrait. By Walter Crocker. THE YOUNG MAN FROM HOME: James Balfour 1830–1913. By Andrew Lemon. THE DEMON OF DISCORD: Tensions in the Catholic Church in Victoria, 1853–1864. By Margaret M. Pawsey. SOLID BLUESTONE FOUNDATIONS AND OTHER MEMORIES OF A MELBOURNE GIRLHOOD, 1908–1928. By Kathleen Fitzpatrick. THE HALF‐OPEN DOOR: Sixteen modern Australian women look at professional life and achievement. Edited by Patricia Grimshaw and Lynne Strahan. HELEN PALMER'S OUTLOOK. Edited by Doreen Bridges. THE ETHNIC DIMENSION: Papers on Ethnicity and Pluralism by Jean Martin. Edited by S. Encel. AUSTRIA TO AUSTRALIA: The Autobiography of an Australian Jew from birth to emigration 1904–1938. By Walter Krauss. THE FRENCH IN AUSTRALIA. By Anny P. L. Stuer. COLONIAL CASUALTIES: Chinese in Early Victoria. By Kathryn Cronin. A NEST OF HORNETS: The Massacre of the Fraser Family at Hornet Bank Station, Central Queensland, 1875 and Related Events. By Gordon Reid. BLACK DEATH, WHITE HANDS. By Paul Wilson.AUSTRALIAN ABORIGINES IN THE NEWS. THE OTHER AUSTRALIA: The Crisis in Aboriginal Health. By Peter D. Osborne. SERVICE DELIVERY TO REMOTE COMMUNITIES. Edited by P. Loveday. SERVICE DELIVERY TO OUTSTATIONS. Edited by P. Loveday. SERVICE DELIVERY TO REMOTE COMMUNITIES. Edited by P. Loveday. CLASS CONSCIOUSNESS IN AUSTRALIA. By Chris Chamberlain. OPEN CUT: The working class in an Australian mining town. By Claire Williams. DEMOCRACY IN TRADE UNIONS: Studies in Membership Participation and Control. By Mary Dickenson. FROM SUBSERVIENCE TO STRIKE: Industrial Relations in the Banking Industry. By John Hill. A FRACTURED FEDERATION? AUSTRALIA IN THE 1980s. Edited by Jennifer Alfred and John Wilkes. A LIBERAL NATION: The Liberal Party and Australian Politics. By Marian Simms. STABILITY AND CHANGE IN AUSTRALIAN POLITICS. Second Edition. By Don Aitkin. THREE CORNERED CONTESTS IN SOUTH EAST QUEENSLAND STATE SEATS. By David Hamill and Paul Reynolds. THE TEAM AT THE TOP: Ministers in the Northern Territory. By Patrick Weller and Will Sanders. THE AUSTRALIAN FINANCIAL SYSTEM AFTER THE CAMPBELL REPORT. By J. O. N. Perkins. TEACHING HUMAN RIGHTS: An Australian Symposium. Edited by Alice Erh‐Soon Tay in collaboration with Graeme Connolly and Roger Wilkins. STUCK! Unemployed people talk to Michele Turner. By Michele Turner. ASIA–THE WINNING OF INDEPENDENCE. Edited by Robin Jeffrey. LOMBOK: Conquest, Colonization and Underdevelopment, 1870–1940. By Alfons van der Kraan. LAWYER IN THE WILDERNESS. By K. H. Digby. ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT AND SOCIAL CHANGE IN THE PEOPLE'S REPUBLIC OF CHINA. By Willy Kraus. WESTERN REPORTS ON THE TAIPING: A selection of documents. By Prescott Clarke and J. S. 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AUGUSTAN ENGLAND: Professions, State and Society, 1680–1730. By peoffrey Holmes. NEWMAN. By Owen Chadwick. BRITAIN AGAINST ITSELF: The Political Contradictions of Collectivism. By Samuel H. Beer. CROMWELLIAN SCOTLAND 1651–1660. By F. D. Dow. SCOTTISH CULTURE AND SCOTTISH EDUCATION 1800–1980. Edited by Walter M. Humes and Hamish M. Paterson. REBIRTH OF A NATION: Wales 1880–1980. By Kenneth O. Morgan. IRELAND AND SCOTLAND 1600–1850: Parallels and Contrasts in Economic and Social Development. Edited by T. M. Devine and David Dickson. A NEW HISTORY OF IRELAND. III. EARLY MODERN IRELAND, 1534–1691. Edited by T. W. Moody, F. X. Martin and F. J. Byrne. THE MAKING OF THE SANS‐CULOTTES: Democratic ideas and institutions in Paris, 1789–92. By R. B. Rose POLICY AND POLITICS IN FRANCE: Living with Uncertainty. By Douglas E. Ashford. ALPHONSE DE LAMARTINE: A Political Biography. By William Fortescue. NIDROITE NI GAUCHE: L'ideologie fasciste en France. By Zeev Sternhell. FRANCE IN THE 1980s: The Definitive Book. By John Ardagh. THE MAKING OF RUSSIAN ABSOLUTISM, 1613–1801. By Paul Dukes. KHRUSHCHEV. By Roy Medvedev. KHRUSHCHEV AND BREZHNEV AS LEADERS: Building Authority in Soviet Politics. By George W. Breslauer. CONSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENT IN THE USSR: A Guide to the Soviet Constitutions. By Aryeh L. Unger. GOD'S PLAYGROUND: A History of Poland. Volume II: 1795 to the Present. By Norman Davies. THE MINANGKABAU RESPONSE TO DUTCH COLONIAL RULE IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. By Elizabeth E. Graves. COMINTERN ARMY: The International Brigades and the Spanish Civil War. By R. Dan Richardson. STUDIES ON THE POLITICAL THOUGHT OF GAETANO MOSCA: The Theory of the Ruling Class and its Development Abroad. Edited by Ettore A. Albertoni. PEREIASLAV 1654: A Historiographical Study. By John Basarab. EUROPE SINCE HITLER: The Rebirth of Europe. By Walter Lacqueur. THOMAS MORE: History and Providence. By Alistair Fox. MARX AND MARXISM. By Peter Worsley. MAX WEBER. By Frank Parkin. EMILE DURKHEIM. By Kenneth Thompson. THE HISTORY OF MARXISM. Volume One: Marxism in Marx's Day. Edited by Eric J. Hobsbawm. POLITICAL DEVELOPMENT THEORY: The Contemporary Debate. By Richard A. Higgott. LEGAL RIGHT AND SOCIAL DEMOCRACY: Essays in Legal and Political Philosophy. By Neil MacCormick THE END OF SOCIAL INEQUALITY? Class, Status and Power Under State Socialism. By David Lane. LIMITED NUCLEAR WAR: Political Theory and War Conventions. By Ian Clark MEN AT WAR: Politics, Technology and Innovation in the Twentieth Century. Edited by Timothy Travers and Christon Archer. Chicago, Precedent, 1982. OPEC BEHAVIOR AND WORLD OIL PRICES. Edited by James M. Griffin and David J. Teece. THE CHALLENGE OF ENERGY: Policies in the Making. Edited by Mohammad W. Khouja. ARGUMENTS FOR DEMOCRACY. By Tony Benn. SOCIALISM WITH A HUMAN FACE: The political economy of Britain in the 1980s. By Michael Meacher. BROADCASTING AND SOCIETY 1918–1939. By Mark Pegg. THE HEALTH OF NATIONS: A North‐South Investigation. By Mike Muller. THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF BIG BUSINESS. By M. A. Utton HOW TO TELL THE LIARS FROM THE STATISTICIANS. By Robert Hooke.

[spa] La tauromaquia es un espectáculo público que históricamente ha contado en España con destacados detractores. Sin embargo, y a pesar de la relevancia de las personalidades que a lo largo de los siglos han expresado razonamientos contrarios a las corridas de toros, el pensamiento antitaurino español apenas ha sido objeto de estudios. Ya sea a través del ensayo, de la filosofía, de la política, del periodismo o del arte, grandes nombres de nuestra historia, así como relevantes autores de la actualidad, han alzado su voz contra la tauromaquia, considerando a esta diversión como una muestra de barbarie cruel e inhumana que debe ser cuestionada, combatida y, en último extremo, erradicada. Con la presente investigación hemos tratado de hilvanar históricamente la evolución del pensamiento antitaurino en nuestro país, dándole forma hasta llegar a nuestros días. Para ello hemos compilado, analizado e interrelacionado la mayor cantidad posible de aquellos autores que a través de su obra se han posicionado en contra de las diversiones taurinas. El primer atisbo de pensamiento contrario a la tauromaquia lo hallamos ya en el siglo XIII, cuando Alfonso X El Sabio, en sus Leyes de Partida, califica a los toreros como "infames". Desde aquel momento se han sucedido en España, siglo tras siglo, generación tras generación, opiniones contrarias a las corridas de toros. Desde santos de la Iglesia católica hasta socialistas; desde absolutistas hasta liberales; desde jesuitas hasta reconocidos ateos; desde destacados militares monárquicos hasta prominentes republicanos de izquierdas; desde importantes ilustrados hasta no menos relevantes escritores, todos ellos, y muchos otros más, han coincidido mayoritariamente en denunciar las corridas de toros señalándolas como un acto brutal y salvaje. Asimismo, la condena del maltrato animal ha sido eje histórico del pensamiento antitaurino ya desde el siglo XVI, censurando que en estos entretenimientos se martirice por mero divertimento a un ser pacífico y herbívoro como el toro. Cada vez que en España se ha debatido públicamente acerca de una regeneración de las costumbres en beneficio de la patria, la tauromaquia ha sido señalada como una rémora que debe ser desterrada de nuestros usos en nombre del progreso, de la educación y de la cultura. Esta cuestión sigue vigente hoy en día. Lejos de poder ser considerado como una simple moda pasajera, el pensamiento antitaurino se ha mantenido prácticamente invariable en España a lo largo de los siglos. De hecho, en la actualidad el asunto no sólo no ha perdido interés, sino que está muy presente en la sociedad española. ; [cat] La tauromàquia és un espectacle públic que històricament ha comptat a Espanya amb destacats detractors. No obstant això, i malgrat la rellevància de les personalitats que al llarg dels segles han expressat raonaments contraris a les curses de braus, el pensament antitaurí espanyol amb prou feines ha estat objecte d'estudis. Ja sigui a través de l'assaig, de la filosofia, de la política, del periodisme o de l'art, grans noms de la nostra història, així com rellevants autors de l'actualitat, han alçat la seva veu contra la tauromàquia, considerant a aquesta diversió com una mostra de barbàrie cruel i inhumana que ha de ser qüestionada, combatuda i, en últim extrem, eradicada. Amb la present recerca hem tractat d'embastar històricament l'evolució del pensament antitaurí a Espanya, donant-li forma fins arribar als nostres dies. Per a això hem compilat, analitzat i interrelacionat la major quantitat possible d'aquells autors que a través de la seva obra s'han posicionat en contra de les diversions taurines. El primer besllum de pensament contrari a la tauromàquia ho trobem ja al segle XIII, quan Alfonso X El Sabio, en les seves Leyes de Partida, qualifica als toreros com a "infames". Des d'aquell moment s'han succeït a Espanya, segle després de segle, generació després de generació, opinions contràries a les curses de braus. Des de sants de l'Església catòlica fins a socialistes; des d'absolutistes fins a liberals; des de jesuïtes fins a reconeguts ateus; des de destacats militars monàrquics fins a prominents republicans d'esquerres; des d'importants il·lustrats fins a no menys rellevants escriptors, tots ells, i molts uns altres més, han coincidit majoritàriament a denunciar les corregudes de toros assenyalant-les com un acte brutal i salvatge. Així mateix, la condemna del maltractament animal ha estat eix històric del pensament antitaurí ja des del segle XVI, censurant que en aquests entreteniments es martiritzi per mera diversió a un ésser pacífic i herbívor com el toro. Cada vegada que a Espanya s'ha debatut públicament sobre una regeneració dels costums en benefici de la pàtria, la tauromàquia ha estat assenyalada com un obstacle que ha de ser bandejat dels nostres usos en nom del progrés, de l'educació i de la cultura. Aquesta qüestió segueix vigent avui dia. Lluny de poder ser considerat com una simple moda passatgera, el pensament antitaurí s'ha mantingut pràcticament invariable a Espanya al llarg dels segles. De fet, en l'actualitat l'assumpte no només no ha perdut interès, sinó que està molt present en la societat espanyola. ; [eng] Bullfighting is a public show that has historically counted with prominent detractors in Spain. However, and despite the relevance of the personalities that over the centuries have expressed arguments against bullfights, Spanish anti-bullfighting Thinking has hardly been studied. Whether through the essay, philosophy, politics, journalism or art, great names in our history, as well as relevant contemporary authors, have raised their voice against bullfighting, considering this spectacle as a sign of cruel and inhuman barbarity that must be questioned, fought and, ultimately, eradicated. With the present investigation we have tried to analyze the evolution of anti-bullfighting Thinking in our country until our days. For this we have compiled, studied and interrelated the greatest possible number of those authors who have been positioned against bullfighting through their work. The roots of a Spanish Philosophy against bullfighting can be found in the thirteenth century, when Alfonso X El Sabio, in their Leyes de Partida, qualifies bullfighters as "infamous". Since then we can find, century after century, generation after generation, many opinions against bullfighting. From Catholic Church Saints to Socialist thinkers; from Absolutism defenders to Liberalism advocates; from Jesuits to recognized Atheists; from prominent Military officers of the Monarchy to relevant left-wing republicans; from famous enlightenment Thinkers to no less significant writers, all of them, and many others, have mostly agreed to report the bullfights indicating them as a brutal and wild act. Similarly, the condemnation of animal abuse has been the historical axis of anti-bullfighting Thinking since the sixteenth century, censuring that in these entertainments a peaceful and herbivorous being like a bull is martyred only for fun. Every time that in Spain there has been a public debate about a regeneration of customs for the benefit of the country, bullfighting has been pointed out as an obstacle that must be banished from our uses in the name of progress, education and culture. This question is still valid today. Far from being able to be considered as a simple passing fashion, anti-bullfighting Thinking has remained practically invariable in Spain over the centuries. In fact, today the issue is very present in Spanish society.

[ES]El punto de partida de esta investigación es la metáfora judicial que ilustra y articula el texto y el programa metodológico de la Kritik der reinen Vernunft de Kant. El uso de terminología jurídica y de imágenes procesales para iluminar los nuevos conceptos introducidos por la filosofía kantiana es tanto más significativo cuanto que el mundo jurídico-procesal delinea el horizonte de autocomprensión (jurídico) filosófica del criticismo. Así, según KRV A 751-752/B 779-780 la "crítica de la razón pura" representa el establecimiento de un orden de legalidad que pone fin a la multitud de disputas propias del "estado de naturaleza" de la metafísica dogmática, a la vez que semejante orden de legalidad filosófica ha de fundarse en la "sentencia" que resulta del tratamiento procesal de todos los conflictos especulativos. Desentrañar esta metafórica judicial y su proyección sociohistórica constituye precisamente el objetivo de una interpretación jurídico-procesal de la "crítica de la razón pura". El alcance de esta interpretación depende de un planteamiento metodológico que ponga en juego las diversas dimensiones desde las que cabe abordar el lazo metafórico entre lo crítico y lo jurídico. De ahí que en la Introducción se discutan los presupuestos de hermenéutica textual que inspiran esta lectura del criticismo: la metaforología (H. Blumenberg) como disciplina auxiliar de la historia de la filosofía, que sirve aquí a la elucidación pragmática de la propuesta de una "crítica de la razón pura" desde el contexto de la historia y filosofía del derecho ilustradas; la historia social implicada en la historia del concepto (R. Koselleck), y que se caracteriza en este caso por la politización de la Ilustración tardía; y finalmente la política de la verdad (M. Foucault) como desvelamiento de las prácticas sociales y, concretamente, de las prácticas judiciales que están en el trasfondo de las formas de conciencia y de subjetividad. En consonancia con estos principios de hermenéutica textual la lectura jurídico-procesal del criticismo se afronta desenvolviendo los distintos niveles de desarrollo de la metáfora judicial. No obstante, y sin omitir los enfoques "estructural" y "sistemático", en los que hasta ahora se ha centrado la tradición historiográfica sobre el tema, pero siempre entretejido con ellos, es el objetivo prioritario de este trabajo el despliegue del enfoque sociohistórico, desmontando el discurso filosófico de la metáfora desde la historia del derecho, especialmente en la Prusia de Federico II, para calibrar la conexión o distancia entre la reforma kantiana del pensamiento metafísico y la reforma prusiana de la legislación civil y procesal. De ahí que la pregunta que cual hilo conductor preside toda la investigación, pueda formularse así: ¿hasta qué punto la reforma legislativa y procesal prusiana de la segunda mitad del siglo XVIII podía ser la justa contrapartida desde la que se iluminase el proyecto crítico de la reforma de la metafísica? Guiado por esta cuestión, el trabajo se divide en dos partes, la primera de las cuales trata de despejar los supuestos históricos y filosóficos generales que sustentan la metáfora judicial del criticismo en toda su densidad y plenitud significativa; la segunda parte, en cambio, examina directamente el texto kantiano de la Antitética cosmológica como escenario por antonomasia de un proceso civil en el que se resuelve un conflicto, pero al mismo tiempo se legitima y funda un tribunal. Por lo que a la Primera Parte se refiere, el esclarecimiento sociohistórico de la crítica de la razón desde la historia y filosofía del derecho características de la época federiciana tiene en cuenta la teoría, legislación y praxis jurídicas del momento. 1) El iusnaturalismo de la escuela wolffiana (racionalismo) y tardowolffiana (empirismo histórico) era la teoría dominante en los círculos universitarios y en la burocracia estatal. El cap. 1 analiza por ello los focos de convergencia y sobre todo de alejamiento entre el criticismo jurídico y la tradición iusnaturalista wolffiana al hilo de la correspondencia entre Kant y E.F. Klein. Asimismo, el cap. 2 expone la formación de la filosofía crítica del derecho como un progresivo abandono del iusnaturalismo wolffiano y de su concepción eudemonista del Estado del bienestar, basándose en la polémica de Kant con el Ius naturae (1763) de G.Achenwall desde la segunda mitad de los años sesenta. 2) La codificación fue la empresa legislativa que dio lugar al Derecho Territorial Prusiano de 1794 (Allgemeines Landrecht), un código que acabó siendo la plasmación jurídico-positiva de aquel iusnaturalismo wolffiano, que sancionaba la sociedad estamental y el absolutismo político. Buena parte del cap. 1 y en especial el primer apartado del capítulo sexto están consagrados a este asunto. 3) La reforma procesal, llevada a cabo especialmente en la década de los ochenta con la Orden Procesal de 1781 y la definitiva Allgemeine erichtsordnung de 1793-1796 (de ella se ocupa el cap. 3b y parte del cap.4), se presentaba como un programa de liquidación o superación de la praxis jurídica vigente, determinada ante todo por el derecho romano-canónico y la complejidad formal del así denominado "proceso común". La Segunda Parte, que lleva por título "Legislación y juicio de un tribunal", pretende poner de relieve los dos aspectos jurídicos de la Antinomia pero también su indisoluble unidad. Se trata de concebir el relato cosmológico como obra de legislación y a la vez como procedimiento de resolución judicial de la desavenencia de la razón pura consigo misma. Para esclarecer la conexión de ambas funciones, se contempla, por un lado, el conflicto antinómico como el camino de descubrimiento del "idealismo trascendental" (cap. 5) y, por otro lado, se interpreta en función de dos usos jurídicos de la época: la Gesetzkommission creada en 1781 por Federico II para resolver cuestiones jurídicas dudosas o polémicas planteadas por casos concretos de la praxis judicial, y el acto de conciliación o Güteversuch, tan encarecido por los reformadores prusianos. Según la primera, la Antitética aparece como el escenario de un ius controversum, cuya resolución en un proceso reflexivo de interpretación judicial conduce al orden de legalidad (nomothetica rationis humanae) que legitima las pretensiones opuestas sobre el "mundo sensible" (cap. 6). Conforme al segundo, el valor legislativo de la antinomia (en cuanto fuente de la "nomotética") viene allanado por la representación procesal del conflicto cosmológico como una especie de arreglo amistoso entre las partes contendientes, que hace posible instituir un "estado civil", un orden legal en la filosofía (cap.7). ; [EN]This work offers a juridical-procedural interpretation of Kant's Critique of Pure Reason based on the judicial metaphor that inspired it and which remits philosophical discourse to the scene of jurisprudence and situates the course of development of metaphysics within the historical horizon of society's juridical-political development. Using a methodology of textual hermeneutics bsed on the articulation of Hans Blumenberg's "metaphorology", the "social history" implied in R. Koselleck's "history of the concept" and M. Foucault's "politics of Truth", this work aims at interpreting the philosophical text of the judicial metaphor of the critique from the perspective of the history of eighteenth century Prussian law. The exposition consists of two parts: Part I attempts to show the general historical and philosophical assumptions that sustain the judicial metaphor of the critique of pure reason, while Part II analyzes the cosmological Antithetique as the locus par excellence of a civil lawsuit that settles speculative litigation at the same time that it establishes the tribunal of the critique. Among these general assumptions are the jus naturalis rationalism of the Wolffian school as the dominant juridical theory at the time of Frederick II, and particularly in the bureaucratic atmosphere of the legislators C. G. Svarez and E.F. Klein, from whose eudaemonist concept of the state Kant distanced himself critically; the codification of Prussian territorial law (Allgemeines Landrecht, 1794) which sanctioned a stratified society and political absolutism from Wolffian jus naturalist doctrines; and finally, the procedural reform that led to the Allgemeine Gerichstordung of 1793-1796, the aim of which was to put an end to the complicated formalism of "common procedure". The procedural analysis of the cosmological Antithetique tends to show the indisoluble unity between the "legislation" of pure reason (nomothetica) and the "procedure" of judicial resolution of the transcendental disagreement in the Kantian Antinomy, based on two juridical uses of that time: the "Law Commision", created to decide in doubtful or polemical cases of judicial praxis and the "act of conciliation" between the contending parties before or even during the institution of proceedings.

Rezension von: Gert Geißler, Schulgeschichte in Deutschland. Von den Anfängen bis in die Gegenwart. Frankfurt a.M.: Lang-Verlag 2011 (1003 S.; ISBN 978-3-631-61435-8)

Our thesis work is about the question of the transmission of legal knowledge during the imperial period Roman (27 BC - 565 AD). The starting point of our reflection was to note the crisis that the transmission of knowledge, particularly legal knowledge, is currently experiencing. This issue is indeed at the heart of the concerns of the political class, economists and even educators. Where does education go? This was Jean Piaget's question in 1972. Everyone asks themselves these timeless questions: What is the best way to transmit? Should we favour a literary, technical, popular, artistic, scientific culture? By what means and methods? Should theory or practice be promoted in the educational process? What autonomy and requirements should be expected of the student? How to avoid school failure? What strategies should be put in place to support student success? The education crisis naturally affects legal studies. If law education is in crisis today, it is largely due to the hesitation between two conceptions of law: the modern, subjective and idealistic conception and the post-modern, objective and realistic conception. In the first, the transmission of legal knowledge is oriented towards theory, while in the second, practice prevails. While since its inception, the Faculty of Law has, under the influence of humanism, given a premium to theory, a change has taken place since the beginning of the 20th century. Following the industrial revolution, the old worldview based on truth and disinterested culture was erased in favour of a vision of humanity oriented towards work and practical efficiency. In this climate of tension around a contested teaching, it seems desirable to summon history to help the present. Indeed, to quote Orwell:" (.) who commands the past commands the future", which is to say that cutting the thread of time that unites past and present, as modern people have been able to do, deprives us of necessarily any experience that makes us "travellers without luggage". This will involve, to paraphrase Maurice Tardif, to demonstrate that all the problems currently posed by education are initial problems that can only be usefully analyzed by going back 2500 years to observe their genesis. If Mesopotamia provides us with an illustration of humanity's first teaching, Rome was a precursor in the field of law. The civilizations preceding Rome, whether eastern or western, have not known teaching of real law but only a passive transmission of legal knowledge. The question of the transmission of the right will be considered in our work, as the title suggests, in Rome and for the imperial period. What does that mean? We will try to draw the realities of the transmissions of the legal knowledge during the imperial era and throughout the territory occupied by Rome, whether in the West or in the West as in the East. The Empire succeeded two great periods: the Monarchy and the Republic. The Monarchy begins with the foundation of Rome in 753 BC and ends in 509 BC with the exile of the last king Etruscan Tarquin the Great. The Republic begins in 509 and ends in 27 BC. The Roman Empire began as follows in -27. The question of its completion is more complex. Indeed, in the West, it is certain that the Roman Empire officially ended - in law and not in fact - in 476 with the deposition of the last Western emperor Romulus Augustus by the barbarian king Odoacre. In the East, Roman domination did not end until 1453. Yet - and even if there is controversy among romantics on this issue - it can be said that we cannot speak of the Roman Empire until Justinian's death in 565. After that date, we will no longer speak of the Roman Empire of the East but of the Byzantine Empire. We will then limit ourselves to studying the teaching of law from -27 to 565. We will recall by way of introduction that during the Republican period, the law was transmitted according to the Ius est ars boni et aequi. Indeed, law was not yet a technique monopolized by power, but was speculative. The student "trained on the job", followed his teacher to the forum and gathered the answers he needed. provided to the litigants who questioned him. Teaching and case law were thus closely linked and because the law was not yet constituted in science, teaching was done through casuistry. These were cases that were subject to the wisdom of the teacher and his pupils and the judicial decisions that had to be commented on. Under the Empire, a real teaching of legal science appeared. We will focus on consequently over the imperial period since it will have seen the birth and then the decline of an academic education from the right. First, we will focus on legal education as it was conceived during the first part of the empire, the High Empire, which extended from 27 BC to 284 AD. (I). This period at during which the emperor is a princeps is distinguished by its apparent proximity to the Republican political system. During the time of the High Empire, we will see that the transmission of legal knowledge, left all is essentially practical and is carried out by means of the respondere docere or within the framework of rhetorical education (A). Yet, to carefully examine the legal literature of this period, in particular the Institutes of Gaius, we can suspect the presence of law schools (B). Late Antiquity (284-565) makes following the High Empire (II). It is during this period that we are certain that a real legal education. Several factors are contributing to a revolution in the transmission of legal knowledge during the Late Antiquity. First, of course, imperial absolutism, which leads to a power grab on legal education, which will result in the establishment of public schools by the authority under his direction and with law professors, the magistri iuris (A). The new schools of late antiquity law provide their students with legal knowledge organized around a study plan and transmitted by means of a particular pedagogy. It is to describe this process of active knowledge transmission that we are going to focus on (B). ; Notre travail de thèse concerne la question des transmissions du savoir juridique durant la période impériale romaine (27 avant J.C – 565 après J.C). Le point de départ de notre réflexion fut de constater la crise que connaît aujourd'hui la transmission des savoirs, en particulier juridique. Cette problématique est effectivement au coeur des préoccupations de la classe politique, des économistes ou encore des pédagogues. Où va l'éducation ? Telle était déjà l'interrogation de Jean Piaget en 1972. Chacun se pose ces questions intemporelles : Quel savoir transmettre ? Doit-on privilégier une culture littéraire, technique, populaire, artistique, scientifique ? Par quels moyens et méthodes ? Doit-on mettre en avant la théorie ou la pratique dans le processus éducatif ? Quelle autonomie et quelles exigences doit-on attendre de l'élève ? Comment éviter l'échec scolaire ? Quelles stratégies mettre en place afin de favoriser la réussite des élèves ? La crise de l'éducation touche bien entendu les études juridiques. Si l'enseignement du droit est aujourd'hui en crise, c'est en grande partie du fait de l'hésitation entre deux conceptions du droit : la conception moderne, subjective et idéaliste et la conception post-moderne, objective et réaliste. Dans la première, la transmission du savoir juridique est orientée du côté de la théorie alors que dans la seconde prime la pratique. Alors que depuis son origine, la faculté de droit accorde, sous l'influence de l'humanisme, une prime à la théorie, un changement s'est opéré depuis le début du XXe siècle. Suite à la révolution industrielle, l'ancienne conception du monde fondée sur la vérité et la culture désintéressée s'efface au profit d'une vision de l'humanité orientée vers le travail et l'efficacité pratique.Dans ce climat de tension autour d'un enseignement contesté, il semble souhaitable de convoquer l'histoire au secours du présent. En effet, pour reprendre Orwell : « (…) qui commande le passé commande l'avenir », ce qui revient à dire que couper le fil du temps qui unit passé et présent, comme ont pu le faire les modernes, nous prive nécessairement de toute expérience faisant de nous des « voyageurs sans bagages ». Il s'agira, pour paraphraser Maurice Tardif, de démontrer que l'ensemble des problématiques que pose l'enseignement actuellement sont des problèmes initiaux qui ne peuvent s'analyser utilement qu'en remontant 2500 ans en arrière pour observer leurs genèses. Si la Mésopotamie nous fournit l'illustration du premier enseignement de l'humanité, Rome fut précurseur en matière de droit. Les civilisations précédant Rome, qu'elles soient orientales ou occidentales, n'ont pas connu d'enseignement du droit véritable mais seulement une transmission passive du savoir juridique.La question de la transmission du droit sera, dans notre travail, envisagée, comme l'intitulé le laisse paraître, à Rome et pour la période impériale. Qu'est-ce à dire ? Nous tenterons de dessiner les réalités des transmissions du savoir juridique pendant l'époque impériale et sur l'ensemble du territoire occupé par Rome, que ce soit en Occident comme en Orient. L'Empire succède à deux grandes périodes : la Monarchie et la République. La Monarchie commence à la fondation de Rome en 753 avant notre ère et s'achève en 509 avant J.C. avec l'exil du dernier roi étrusque Tarquin le Superbe. La République débute en 509 et s'achève en 27 avant J.C. L'Empire romain débute ainsi en -27. La question de son achèvement est plus complexe. En effet, en occident, il est certain que l'Empire romain prend fin officiellement – en droit et non pas dans les faits – en 476 avec la déposition du dernier empereur d'occident Romulus Augustus par le roi barbare Odoacre. En Orient, la domination romaine ne prend fin qu'en 1453. Pourtant – et même s'il y a controverse parmi les romanistes quant à cette question – on peut affirmer qu'on ne peut parler d'Empire romain que jusqu'à la mort de Justinien en 565. Après cette date, on ne parlera plus d'Empire romain d'orient mais d'Empire byzantin. Nous nous bornerons alors à étudier l'enseignement du droit de -27 à 565.Nous rappellerons en guise d'introduction qu'au cours de la période républicaine, le droit se transmettait selon le Ius est ars boni et aequi. En effet, le droit n'était pas encore une technique accaparée par le pouvoir mais relevait de la spéculation. L'élève « se formait sur le tas », suivait son maître au forum et recueillait les réponses qu'il apportait aux plaideurs qui l'interrogeaient. Enseignement et jurisprudence étaient ainsi intimement liés et parce que le droit n'était pas encore constitué en science, l'enseignement passait par la casuistique. C'étaient des cas qui étaient soumis à la sagacité du maître et de ses élèves et les décisions judiciaires qu'il s'agissait de commenter.Sous l'Empire, apparaît un véritable enseignement de la science juridique. Nous nous concentrerons par conséquent sur la période impériale puisqu'elle aura vu la naissance puis le déclin d'un enseignement académique du droit. Dans un premier temps, nous nous concentrerons sur l'enseignement juridique tel qu'il était conçu durant la première partie de l'empire, le Haut-Empire qui se déploie de 27 avant notre ère à 284 après J.C. (I). Cette période au cours de laquelle l'empereur est un princeps se distingue par une apparente proximité avec le système politique républicain. Pendant le temps du Haut- Empire, nous constaterons que la transmission du savoir juridique, laissée toute entière à l'initiative privée, est essentiellement pratique s'effectuant au moyen du respondere docere ou dans le cadre de l'éducation rhétorique (A). Pourtant, à bien examiner la littérature juridique de cette période, en particulier les Institutes de Gaius, nous pouvons soupçonner la présence d'écoles de droit (B). L'Antiquité Tardive (284-565) fait suite au Haut-Empire (II). C'est durant cette période que nous sommes certains de l'apparition d'un véritable enseignement du droit. Plusieurs facteurs concourent à une révolution de la transmission du savoir juridique durant l'Antiquité Tardive. En premier lieu, bien évidemment, l'absolutisme impérial qui conduit à une emprise du pouvoir sur l'enseignement juridique ce qui aura pour conséquence l'avènement d'écoles publiques, instituées par l'autorité impériale, placées sous sa direction et dotées de professeurs de droit, les magistri iuris (A). Les nouvelles écoles de droit de l'Antiquité Tardive dispensent à leurs étudiants un savoir juridique organisé autour d'un plan d'étude et transmis au moyen d'une pédagogie particulière. C'est à décrire ce processus de transmission active du savoir juridique que nous allons nous attacher (B).

Issue 31.1 of the Review for Religious, 1972. ; ASSOCIATE EDI'I.'O R Everett A. Diederich, S.J. QUESTIONS ANI) ANS\VERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editor, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to I~EVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Build-ins; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, SJ.; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19106. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ccclcsiastical approval by faculty mcnlbers of tile School of Divinity of St. Louis UniversJly. the edilorhll otfices beii~g located at 612 Ilumboldt Bnilding~ 539 North (.;rand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned b.v the Missouri Province Educational Institute. Published bimonthly and copyright © 1972 by REVIEW I:OR RELIGIOUS. Printed in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. l.ouis, Missouri. Single copies: $1.25. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a year, $11.00 for two years: other counlries: $7.00 a year, $13.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for Ilew or renewal subscriptions and should bc accompanied by check or money order payable to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS in U.S.A. cur-rency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent I~EVIEW I:OR ~ELIGIOUS. Clmnge of address requests should include former address. Renewals and new subscriptions should be sent I)ululh, Minnesota 55802. Manuscripts, editori-al correspondence, and books for review ~bould bc scat 1o REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS: 612 [lumboldt Building: 539 North Grand Boule-yard; SI. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to tile address of tile Questions and Ans\vcrs editor. JANUARY 1972 VOLUME 31 NUMBER 1 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Volume 31l 1972 EDITORIAL OFFICE 539 North Grand Boulevard St. Louis, Missouri 63103 BUSINESS OFFICE P.O. Box 1110 Dululh, Minnesota 55802 EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITOR Everett A. Diederich, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, Published in January, March, May, July, September, No-vember on the fifteenth of the month. Review for Religious is indexed in the Catholic Periodi-cal Index and in Book Review Index. Microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is available from University Micro-films; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. HELEN CONDON, R.S.C.J. The Prayer Question [Helen Condon, R.S.C.J., is a member of the administrative team of the International Union of Superiors General; Piazza di Ponte S. Angelo, 28; 00186 Rome, Italy.] One sign that religious men and women are experiencing renewal and not just making adaptations is the surfacing of a deep current, the desire for prayer. Within the past two or three years there has been a stronger interest in prayer, in new forms and approaches, in books by Lutheran, Anglican, and Orthodox mystics and in Eastern spiritualities. That this interest is more than academic is evident from the efforts being made to experience prayer -the workshops and live-in institutes, directed retreats, the spreading house of prayer movement, the contacts being sought with various masters of contemplation. The Spirit breathing through the Second Vatican Council is surely responsible for this direction of renewal. One strong influence has been the Biblical renaissance of our time, affecting both communal and personal prayer. Among young religious in particular there is often a truly Scripture-centered praying. Another impetus has come from the new freedom given by the chapter decrees of numerous apostolic congregations, doing away with outmoded and excessive devotions and offering wide latitude for individual needs and attractions. What is this contemplative prayer? However we may try to analyze or describe it, in the end it is perhaps least badly expressed as an experience of God. Desire for this experience goes far beyond religious and Christian life, for the same dynamism is active in contemporary society. A'quest for religious experience is a marked characteristic of the counter-culture, however misdirected it may become in esoteric dilettantism and drug addiction. In many places criticism of religious institutions is strongest among those who sense what religion should be. Celebration of the death of God is not an attack on Him but in our misrepresentations, and it can lead to a search for Him. The awareness of God's absence and the widespread crisis of faith and hope may well be social phenomena akin to the mystical dark night. Is it surprising that religious men and women may be similarly affected? Our problems are often the same problems that others have. Realization of this fact can lead to meaningful solidarity with them. It can also be a tremendous apostolic challenge. In this context we come to understand that, although prayer as a human experience has certain constants through the centuries, it must also be real today. Action and contemplation are not antithetical, any more than are body and soul or other so-called dichotomies. All the condemnation of old attitudes and structures that enforced parallel lives of individualistic prayer and work and even the recent criticism of mere horizontalism are now subsiding. What is left is at bedrock level, a hunger and thirst for the living God. The modalities of this experience are many, defying definition and classification. Age-old awarenesses still hold - man's sense of the wholly Other, man's need for a human God - but these are intensified and Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 re-expressed in our heightened consciousness of present realities. Prayer is experience of God's dynamic presence; it is also search for this God. Sometimes it is experience of His absence. Prayer is awareness of His saving action in the world, challenging our integral response. Prayer can be both cause and effect of serving the real needs of men. Yet, without denying the present thrust toward prayer, a crucial question is justified: given the present conditions and circumstances, can many religious men and women engaged in active apostolates really have contemplative prayer? Never have pressures been greater than they are today in Catholic education, the area in which most religious devote themselves. The burden of the future weighs heavily on teachers and administrators: how to assess apostolic need and effective response; how to become more involved in the wider community; how to achieve academic excellence and, of course; how to make ends meet while increasing faculty salaries and benefits, improving instructional programs, and extending scholarships; whether to keep open or to close a school or college. Shortage of personnel presents critical financial problems and sometimes affects morale, especially if teaching sisters, brothers, and priests interpret the questioning of schools and universities and the undertaking of new apostolates by members of their congregations as a lack of support and confidence. Added to all these circumstances is another factor, the grave problems of high school and college students which have also spiraled within a few years and which cry out for help, time, and emotional expenditure on the part of those who teach and guide them. In view of all these pressures - and similar pressures in other kinds of apostolic work - some religious men and women are driven to settle for very little prayer. In addition, the changes within religious life have had an effect - more direct responsibility for one's own "prayer life," greater personal freedom, a wider variety of leisure activities. No longer does a rule or superior "safeguard" times of prayer. Self-discipline is rightly intended to replace other structures, but this kind of self-discipline is not easy, even after years of fidelity to meditation. Other changes have caused malaise and polarization within congregations and local communities. After hectic days in the classroom or office, religious men and women sometimes come home to tensions that are even more difficult to bear. Then there are the heaviest pressures of all, questions that are being asked not just in theological speculation but in personal anguish: ls religious life itself a valid and viable way any more? What meaning has permanent commitment? Is such commitment possible? What really is a relationship with God? Is there such a thing as being "called"? Who is Christ? Where is He? What is the Church? It is not surprising that some find prayer very difficult or meaningless. If it is true that the Holy Spirit is seeking to pray more within us and among us, how can we help one another respond, in spite and because of the problems that burden us? Some of these problems are outside us and some are within. Basic to any effort is a view of religious life itself. It is more and other than professional service, however sympathetic and unselfish. Religious life is a way of realizing the baptismal commitment. It is a faith relationship with the Lord lived out in apostolic community. It is a shared experience of Jesus Christ. A religious congregation is a community of persons committed to, an evangelical life and mission, which is the saving work of Christ among people today. Some such vision reflecting the charism and spirit of the founder is at the head of the book of new decrees or interim documents of ourcongregations. Ultimately this vision is a conviction of faith, with an overriding logic of its own. And this Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 conviction must become the point of reference and basic principle determining our priorities and policies. As a matter of fact, many congregations are acting according to their vision and basic principle in making courageous decisions about reorganizing institutional apostolates and opening up new forms of evangelical service and ministry. Convictions about the individual's'needs and apostolic call are leading to new types of community life and more diversified professional training. The experiments in initial formation and the move toward continuing education and retirement programs result from a realistic application of fundamental aims. Yet are we equally realistic in implementing the prayer-imperative intrinsic to our vision and faith conviction? If in actuality many or even some apostolic religious are so overburdened and pressured that prayer becomes impossible, then priorities demand an honest facing of the problem by everyone concerned. This confronta-tion is the responsibility of a whole congregation or an entire province as well as those in authority, since we now participate in some way in our own government. We have been willing to cut back on institutional commitments because of new apostolic demands, because of the need for further professional preparation, the shortage of personnel and finances. Are we willing to make similar decisions to help one another grow in the faith relationship with God, live the apostolic religious life more humanly and freely? This is not a pious ideal but a pragmatic conclusion. Apostolate is bigger than work, as the person is more than a function. People have to be given time and psychic space to breathe and be. Practically speaking, we need to provide more help for overworked administrators, to lighten class loads of teachers whose day also includes hours of informal counseling or evening activities in the parish. And speaking just as practically, we must begin to give time-off to individuals - spiritual sabbaticals - not just time to acquire a degree in theology, but time and help to seek the living God. Summer renewals of a month or so are helpful. Yet what seems to be needed is a prolonged period, a semester or more, with courses in Scripture and theology and other disciplines integrated into a community experience, and the opportunity for real spiritual direction. The ARC program held in Rome during 1970-71 offered such an experience and might serve as one model for similar ventures elsewhere.1 This kind of spiritual sabbatical might well give the distancing that some seem able to find only in a leave of absence. For most others it would be a time of growth and re-integration after years of self-expenditure. Congregations - which is to say, we - owe their members continuing spiritual help and most especially help in praying - not just talks on prayer, though these can be valuable, but personal guidance and circumstances that favor growth. Good directors are hard to come by; this field of ministry is crying out for sisters and brothers as well as priests. We need prayerful men and women with learning, experience, and sensitivity to the contemporary, who can enlighten and encourage others, enabling them to discern God's leading and to go forward in faith. Besides the congregation, local communities are "responsible" for the quality of 1 ARC - Apostolate of Religious Community - was a program first offered for religious women in 1970-1971 in Rome. Courses in Scripture and theology were taught in English by such persons as Barnabas Ahem, Luis Alonso Sch6kel, Robert L. Faricy, Paul Kennedy, Edward Malatesta, Juan Mateos, Paul Molinari, David M. Stanley, and James Walsh. The 28 participants of varying ages belonged to 17 congregations. They developed their own community life, integrating course content, and communal prayer.'The ARC program,is being repeated during 1971-1972. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 prayer of their members. It is in the living situation that a person's overwork and exhaustion will become most evident. If a community is really a home, then already other pressures lessen and we get strength from one another. If it is not home, a person may tend to withdraw, to center his life outside, to work compulsively. Even if an individual will not or cannot work out of his overextension, his friends can help, like the four men in the gospel~ by laying him at Christ's feet in their own prayer. Since we have chosen to live out our commitment in community, community becomes the context of our discovery of Christ, as it was for His Apostles. As they supported Thomas, we can sustain the faith of one another. Our faith is in need of such help. Perhaps more of us than we could ever guess are going through the same kind of thing - asking ourselves who Christ is and where He is, what our own lives mean and how we can live them today. Another's questioning and searching can help us immeasurably more than facile theoretic solutions. Some are doubting if there is such a thing as a personal call by God. Ultimately the only answer is people's experience. In the long story of salvation history some individuals have known a personal call, and in the more tangible present of our own communities others may be able to share their own moment of meeting with the Lord. Perhaps we can dare to walk in the strength of another's vision, or he in ours, or the hidden Christ may join the two of us as we speak of no longer finding Him. The prayer of the Christian community has special efficacy because the Lord has promised His presence there. Whatever form communal prayer may take, it must make room for this presence, with all its implications of conversion and forgiveness. Through the centuries religious men and women have edified each other by their ardor and fidelity. Today, when we are particularly vulnerable to one another, the quality of community life has a tremendous impact. Perhaps more than anything else, the best help to personal prayer is to be with praying people. What about the individual religious who finds prayer impossible or meaningless? When we cannot pray, when we are bogged down, utterly weary, drained, dried up, when we may already also feel guilty, advice is the last thing we want from Job's comforters, perhaps even from our closest friends. But maybe we can quietly recognize that much of our impotence may come from exterior circumstances and our own human condition. The response is what we are capable of at any given moment. Maybe the only response possible is a desperate cry to God for help. And maybe there will be no answer, only silence. If we can remember words about knocking over and over again, we can try to keep on asking, begging especially for faith: Save me, God! The water is already up to my neck! I am sinking in the deepest swamp, there is no foothold; I have stepped into deep water, and the waves are rushing over me, Worn out with calling, my throat is hoarse, my eyes are strained, looking for my God (Ps 69:1-3). God's power that raised Christ from the dead is working in us (Ep 1:19-20). In prayer the initiatives are His: "Is anything too wonderful for Yahweh?" (Gn 18:14). The response we are capable of may mean a courageous honesty, admitting our own carelessness or compromising or sinfulness. It may mean a willingness to take small steps, perhaps just a recognition of the problem of personal prayer, perhaps letting ourselves be helped. At some point priorities can be sorted out. If the problem is overinvolvement, something has ~to give. Nobody but God can be all things to all men. In its acute form this condition is like a heart attack, when a Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 doctor would say to us: "If you want to live, you've got to let up." Now our very life is just as truly at stake. Do we want to live, and live more abundantly? For all of us, moving into this more abundant life means discovering a rhythm and realizing an integration of prayer into our very existence. The Spirit's action leads to life, not frustration. His invitation to apostolic religious must be possible of acceptance. Given the complexities of today, obstacles around us and within us are immense, but with personal and communal effort they must be surmountable. The new decrees of congregations which altered prayer obligations were intended to open do6rs and windows, not create a vacuum. Contemplative prayer does not need to be defended. Time taken for it does not require apologies to anyone. For the problem of prayer will always be partly a question of time because of the human condition. The modes of prayer are multiple and unique: God can and does give Himself anywhere at any moment. To recognize and assimilate this encounter takes reflection, time, some solitude. Prayer is a human experience, caused and conditioned by and inseparable from human living; prayer is also a gift of the immanent and transcendent God. Apostolic religious are praying people who happen to be teachers or adminis-trators or other professionals, not workers who happen to pray. If we mean what we have so often said - that is what we are rather than what we do that matters - then nowhere is this more true than in our being in Christ. The integration of our lives comes about through the quality of our prayer. The deepening desire for prayer is surely a sign and fruit of renewal. And God's gifts are given not just for ourselves but for others, for the building up of Christ's Body. Religious men and women who are praying people can help others to pray, those who are searching for God without knowing Him, those who have lost Him, those who are revolting against the sterile materialism of technocracy. The religious person is also meant to be a prophet, to condemn injustice and hatred and violence by his words and his life, to proclaim the kingdom of justice and love and peace. One who speaks God's message to mefi must all along be a listener: The Lord Yahweh has given ,me a disciple's tongue. So that 1 may know how to reply to the wearied he provides me with speech. Each morning he wakes me to hear, to listen like a disciple. The Lord Yahweh has opened my ear (Is 50:4-5). M. BASIL PENNINGTON, 0.C.S.0. Contemplative Community lM. Basil Pennington, O.C.S;O., is a Cistercian monk of St. Joseph's Abbey; Spencer, Massachusetts O1562.] The Third Cistercian Symposium (August 30 - September 6, 1971) held at the Abbey of Notre Dame du Lac (near Montreal, Canada) brought together some fifty participants from various nations and continents, including such notables as Jean Leclercq, O.S.B., Armand Veilleux, O.C.S.O., Chrysogonus Waddell, O.C,S.O., Valentine Walgrave, O.P., Ghislain Lafont, O.S.B., and many others. The theme of this Third Symposium was "Contemplative Community." Like the previous Cistercian Symposiums, a team of experts, in this case fifteen, were asked to prepare papers which were circulated in advance. Like the Second Symposium this one also was interdisciplinary and included papers from the fields of Sacred Scripture, patristics, monastic spirituality and history, liturgy, theology, sociology, anthropology, and psychology. A paper reflecting the Anglican perspective was also presented. Unlike previous Symposiums the papers were not read at the meeting. All had been asked to study them carefully prior to the meeting. Or/the first day each expert made a very brief presentation and time was allotted for questions. Such a plan was proposed to allow the greatest amount of time possible for discussion in the hopes that the group might in this way penetrate more deeply hato the question. In practice it proved quite successful. The twelve papers presented were: Scripture Monastic Community and the Summary Statements in Acts Francis Martin Monastic Tradition and History The De Instituto Christiano: Reflections on Contemplative Community Sr. Michael Connor, O.C.S.O. St. Bernard of Clairvaux and the Contemplative Community Jean Leclercq, O.S.B. Seeking God in Community according to St. Aelred Charles Dumont, O.C.S.O. Together unto God: Contemplative Community in the Sermons of Guerric of Igny M. Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O. A Challenge for Today: The Problem of the Contemplative Community at the End of the Eighteenth Century Cyprian Davis, O.S.B. Contemplation and Community: An Anglican Perspective Sr. Benedicta Ward, S.L.G. Liturgy Liturgy and Contemplative Community: Random Reflections and Notes for Discussion Chrysogonus Waddell, O.C.S.O. Theology The Theology of Contemplative Community Tarcisius Conner, O.C.S.O. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 Sociology The Theology of Social Dynamics with an Application to Contemplative Life Valentine Walgrave, O.P. Anthropology Contemplative Community David F. K. Steindl-Rast, O.SoB. Psychology Some Psychological Dimensions of the Contemplative Community D. H. Salman, O.P. Experts present who did not present papers were: Armand Veilleux, O.C.S.O., abbot of Mistassini and editor ofLiturgie, Ghislain Lafont, O.S.B., of Pierre-qui-vire andJohn Eudes Bamberger, O.C.S.O., Secretary General of the Cistercian Order, psychiatrist and patristic scholar. In addition to the team of experts there was a good cross section 'among the participants of those concerned with the contemplative community. There were abbots and abbesses, novice masters and novice mistresses, monks, nuns and novices; there were Cistercians, Benedictines, and Dominicans; there were those from experimental communities, secular institutes, and the lay state. With such a large group there was always the danger that the Symposium might evolve into a colloquium. In actual fact 6ne evening session was devoted to sharing the experiences of the various communities represented. However, for the most part, the meeting remained a very serious study, yet one constantly challenged by practical pastoral concern. On the first day after the brief presentations and a question period, the meeting divided into five small groups, three English-speaking and two French. These groups, in the light of the presentations, formulated questions which represented areas of concern: the essential nature of the Christian contemplative community, sharing at the level of contemplative experience, integration of the vertical and horizontal dimensions. Fidelity to the evolving community and entrance into the contemplative community were also to be discui;sed. On the second day discussion was largely restricted to the panel of experts. The Biblical type of the Christian community, especially in the light of the summary statements in Acts (2:42-7, 4:32-5, 5:11-6) was explored. And then the wider human phenomenon was considered. It was felt that the specifically Christian dimension which transfinalized and elevated the human could best be understood if it was seen precisely in this light. Thus the concluding statement first considered the human phenomenon and then the Christian: CHRISTIAN CONTEMPLATIVE COMMUNITY In order to live human life to the full, man must transcend his empirical self and so realize his True Self. This implies an openness to the Transcendent. Attention to his openness for the Transcendent makes man aware of his contemplative dimension. Contemplative life as a form of life expresses and fosters in every detail of daily living mindfulness of the Transcendent. Contemplative community is a gathering of brethren who support one another in contemplative life through a giving and receiving that is at once spontaneous and responsible. For the Christian to live the human life to the full means a dying to selfishness to enter into the life of the risen Christ. This is the conversion that leads to transformation into the New Man and to the realization of the Self as Cosmic Christ. This transfiguration is realized as the Spirit opens us to the revelation of the Father in His Word. Loving awareness./of this revelation in all its dimensions is contemplative prayer. Since Christian contemplative life focuses on the Word, it is a form of life which expresses and fosters in every detail of daily living a listening to God and a living by the Word. Some Christians called to the contemplative life gather in love and experience God by sharing solitude in common life, supporting one another as brothers. In doing so, they mediate to each other the revelation of God and they manifest the mystery of the Church as open to God in prayer. 10 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 The full significance of this statement can this schema: CONTEMPLATIVE HUMAN (1) FULLNESS In order to live human life to the full, man must transcend his empirical self and so realize his True Self. be better perceived if it is considered in COMMUNITY CHRISTIAN OF LIFE For the Christian, to live the human life to the full means a dying to selfishness to enter into the life of the risen Christ. This is the conversion that leads to transformation into the New Man and to the realization of the Self as Cosmic Christ. This implies cendent. (2) OPENNESS TO THE TRANSCENDENT an openness to the Trans- This transfiguration is realized as the Spirit opens us to the revelation of the Father in His Word. (3) CONTEMPLATIVE DIMENSION Attention to his openness for the Trans- Loving awareness to this revelation in all its cendent makes man aware of his contempla- dimensions is contemplative prayer. tire dimension. (4) CONTEMPLATIVE LIFE Contemplative life as a form of life ex- Since Christian contemplative life focuses presses and fosters in every detail of daily on the Word (Logos), it is a form of life living mindfulness of the Transcendent. which expresses and fosters in every detail of daily living a listening to God and a living by the Word. (5) CONTEMPLATIVE COMMUNITY Contemplative community is a gathering of brethren who support one another in con-templative life through a giving and receiv-ing that is at once spontaneous and respon-sible. Some Christians called to the contemplative life gather in love and experience God by sharing solitude in common life, supporting one another as brothers. In doing so, they mediate to each other the revelation of God and they manifest the mystery of the Church as open to God in prayer. This extremely rich statement summarizes a great deal of discussion and shared insight, the fruit of the labor of the experts working in panels, small group discussions, general sessions, and long night sessibns of the conclusion committee with various experts. Pages and even volumes could be written on it. The committee did offer a brief explanation or development of some of its aspects but these themselves open the way to further areas of exploration and reflection: Fullness of Life The empirical self is the self experienced as acting, reasoning, managing, controlling; not only the self as egotistical or selfish. To mistake this functional self for one's True Self is an illusion. To h~eak out of this illusion means to realize life in fullness. (We are using "tea|ize" throughout in its double sense of becoming aware and making real.) The realization of this universal Self constitutes the ultimate achievement in various spiritual traditions. In Christian tradition this breakthrough into fullness of life is our entering into the Paschal Mystery. What it means to enter into the Cosmic Christ becomes clear when we take seriously St. Paul's "I live now no longer I but Christ lives in me," and keep in mind that this is the Christ in whom, through whom, for whom all things have been created - the Cosmic Christ of Col 1 : 12-20, "Christ is the visible likeness of the invisible God. He is the firstborn Son superior to every creature, for by him God created everything . and through the Son God decided to bring the whole universe back to himself." Tradition expresses this mystery in the language of image and likeness with reference to Genesis 1:36. Community plays an essential role throughout the process in which the image is restored to its likeness (cf. Eph 1:23). Openness to the Transcendent It should be noted that we are dealing with a process, a path. Traditionally this path has been Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 11 seen as leading from knowledge of self which is humility, through knowledge of others which is compassion, to knowledge of God which is contemplation. This process cuhninates in that purity of heart which is man's transparehcy.to the deifying light, of which St. Benedict speaks, and this is true transfiguration. Contemplative Dimension The contemplative attitude is a matter of love, a matter of an intense continuous desire for God. When we speak about contemplative prayer we mean prayerfulness, not only prayers. The man of prayers strives to "pray without ceasing." In arriving at this, the "intention," that dynamic directiveness toward God explicated in a loving attitude of listening, draws the whole heart after it as the needle draws the thread. We refer to all the dimensions of re~,elation because revelation of the Triune God is in itself as it were three-dimensional. God reveals hiinself to us through his Son, the Word, through whom he created and saved everything (Heb 1:3). Thus God speaks to us through all things. We may call this the theophanic dimension of revelation. But it is only in the Spirit that we can understand God's Word, because "the things of God no one knows but the Spirit of God. Now we have received., the Spirit of God that we may know the things that have been given by God" (1 Cor 2:10-12). We may call this the pneumatic dimension. Even this revelation leaves intact the mystery of God the Father who "dwells in light inaccessible, whom no man sees or can see" (1 Tim 6:16). We may call this the apophatic dimension. Contemplative Life When we say that Christian contemplative life "focuses on the Word" we mean that it is through the Word that we come to know the Father in the Spirit. This is why Christian contemplative practice strives for an ever greater sensitivity to the Word (Ausculta) and, through the Word, to God. The clause "expresses and fosters in everyday living," refers to asceticism as practiced in monastic communities. In Cistercian monasteries, for instance, this is done by a deep commitment to the Rule of St. Benedict as interpreted by the living Cistercian tradition. Contemplative Community All Christian life includes an element of contemplation, and all Christian life implies communion. Some Christians, however, live a community life specifically dedicated to contemplative prayer. Their goal is to realize kohtonia in its full Biblical sense: personal communion with the living God and sharing in communion with brothers (cf. 1 Jn 1:3). This is contemplative community, one way of realizing concretely the mystery of the Church. We are poor men, sinners, needing help, not only God's but one another's. For this reason also we need to share a common commitment within a common life. Deep inner sharing of purpose has brought us to a community where, by mutual love and concern, respect and correction, we search, we grow, we experience God. ("Experience" here is not limited to its merely psychological sense but means a deep personal encounter with God in faith.) We support one another in this experience by praising God together, reflecting and learning, living and suffering together to be reborn together. And yet in this life together each brother is the guardian of the other's solitude, protecting it both against infringement and against deteriora-tion into loneliness. Some people need more solitude and others need more togetherness. This implies a true pluralism among communities and in community. The practical question which had inaugurated the Third Symposium had been formulated thus: To see more clearly the problems inherent in the life-situation when men freely gather together and commit themselves to live together in a Christian community for the precise purpose of obtaining for each one the maximal freedom to respond to God in prayer and contemplation (and) of fostering each one's growth in this (and) to seek out, as best we can, genui~tely practical responses to these problems. 12 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 In more concrete terms: I am a Cistercian. 1 live in community. 1 am trying to be a man of prayer. I want to be fully responsive to my community, each man in it and the community as a whole. At the same time 1 want to live an intense prayer life and attain to the deepest possible union with God and experience of Him. In view of this twofold concern what are the difficulties and tensions i am running into and how practically can we best resolve them? Its answer is found in two related insights: an understanding of what might be called incarnational;contemplative prayer, and of unity in pluralism. As the statement above brings out, contemplative prayer, the contemplative attitude, lies in openness to God, responsiveness to God, God who has revealed Himself to us. We know that this God, our God - indeed the only God - is always beyond all His revelations and manifestations; yet He is known and contacted in and through them. His revelation of Himself is to be found not only in the Sacred Books or in the depths of one's own soul, but in all creation, His work which He ever keeps in being, sharing His being, and above all, in the creature He made to His own image and likeness: man. If one approaches creation and especially his fellow man with the Christian contemplative attitude, then this is contemplative prayer. He contacts God and responds to Him as He is revealing Himself. But a man can not do this unless he does have in his life, besides times of communion with creation and with his brethren, periods of silence and solitude wherein he can become aware of his own contemplative dimension and learn to live and respond at this level. Thus it is necessary for the contemplative community to structure itself to some extent at least so that each member can be assured of the time and leisure (which is something more than just time) he needs for this. The other practices of the traditional Christian ascesis are also presupposed. Even when the legitimacy of the incarnational approach to contemplative living is fully established, it remains that this is not the primary attraction or call of all contemplatives. And thus it does not provide the only or wholly adequate answer to our question. There must be within the contemplative community a healthy pluralism which responds to the members' diverse ways of perceiving God and consequently their diverse ways of seeking Him. The official report of the Symposium summed up the conclusions of the Symposium on this point in this way: Unity and Pluralism The contemplative community finds its unity in its common basic orientation toward listening to God and living by the Word. It experiences this unity insofar as the members are able to communicate to one another that they do share this common orientation. Some of the ways in which this is done are through common prayer, praise and Eucharist, through sharing a common spirituality, through accepting the common leadership of an abbot, through example, through participation in common exercises, mutual service and community support, through the charity of fraternal correction, through a common sharing of the responsibility to work toward unity, and through interpersonal encounter in which the brethren share deeply what God is accomplishing in their lives. Their very oneness in Christ makes them essentially sharers. There can be true pluralism only insofar as there is true unity in this basic orientation because pluralism is the expression and realization of the same ideals or orientation in different ways. Psychologically a community can peacefully accept pluralism and not experience it as threatening to its unity if there is among the brethren sufficient knowledge of each other's sharing in the common goal to allow each to have confidence that his brothers are with him in this. Within the ambiance of this common basic orientation each one, according to his own proper attraction, will seek God in different ways placing more emphasis on one approach or another. Some will more readily seek and find him in the depths of their own being, others in their brothers, in creation, in all the details of everyday life. The former will mediate God to their brothers more by example or "image," the others more by "word," interpersonal relations and shared activities. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 13 Within a truly united community there can be a very extensive spectrum of diversity, a very rich pluralism. Such pluralism manifests the great vitality of a united community. Guidelines as norms which set certain limits to pluralism can help a community to be faithful to its basic orientation and invite it to a deeper awareness of it. But ideally such guidelines should merely reflect values which are personally possessed and cherished by all the members of the community. Finally the report of the meeting added a few brief considerations on the present situation vis-,~-vis the contemplative community: Dynamism of the Present Situation Contemplative life today is an adventure, a risk demanding acceptance in faith of difficult situations, a realistic living of the Mystery of Christ, all the while open to the Spirit so that he may move us. In our present situation it is necessary not only to be aware of our past but also of a future that is unfolding with ever greater rapidity. To be a member of a contemplative community is to accept and embrace with joy the death and rebirth into new life that continually mark a vital community life. Love has to express itself in patience, trust and hope in the face of insecurity in the situations that we encounter today. In periods of transition we experience a certain polarization. In the midst of this we can find u~nity in working together toward a fuller unity to be achieved in the future. There is a new form of asceticism in accepting change in a spirit of detachment and in not forcing change on others. Some unusual situations can demand decisions. In regard to fidelity to one's community, only when it becomes clear that the community's evolving orientation blocks the realization of an essential dimension of one's response to God should a person consider separating himself. Honest recognition of community problems is a first step toward building the future. In formulating solutions the community, head and members, listen to one another, always keeping their basic values and orientations in view. We have to love one another. We need to be healed. There is much pain in the perfecting of a contemplative community but this very pain can be the means of bringing forth life and growth. We live in a new age and must find new solutions for problems, some old and some never before encountered. All who took part in the Symposium felt it was a very enriching experience. A report can hardly do justice to the immense wealth brought to the discussions by the large and most capable panel of experts. But perhaps far more important was the strengthening witness shared by all there, a witness given not only by the participants, one to another, but that of the wonderful contemplative community which hosted the meeting. The large and flourishing community of Notre Dame du Lac with its most generous and open hospitality, its vital celebration of the daily liturgy, and its very evident commitment to contemplative living provided the most ideal context for a symposium on contemplative community. The papers and conclusions of the Third Cistercian Symposium will be published shortly by Cistercian Publications in Volume Twenty-one of the "Cistercian Studies Series": Contemplative Community: A n Interdisciplinary Symposium. GEORGE A. ASCHENBRENNER, S.J. Consciousness Examen [George A. Aschenbrenner, S.J.,is the director of novices in the Maryland Province of the Society of Jesus; Novitiate of St. Isaac Jogues; Wernersville, Pennsylvania 19565.] Examen is usually the first practice to disappear from the daily life of the religious. This occurs for many reasons; but all the reasons amount to the admission (rarely explicit) that it is not of immediate practical value in a busy day. My point in this article is that all these reasons and their false conclusion spring from a basic misunderstanding of the examen as practiced in religious life. Examen must be seen in relationship to discernment of spirits. It is a daily intensive exercise of discernment in a person's life. Examen of Consciousness For many youth today life is spontaneity if anything. If spontaneity is crushed or aborted, then life itself is stillborn. In this view examen is living life once removed from the spontaneity of life. It is a reflective, dehydrated approach which dries all the spontaneity out of life. These people today disagree with Socrates' claim that the unexamined life is not worth living. For these people the Spirit is in the spontaneous and so anything that militates against spontaneity is un-Spirit-ual. This view overlooks the fact that welling up in the consciousness and experience of each of us are two spontaneities, one good and for God, another evil and not for God. These two types of spontaneous urges and movements happen to all of us. So often the quick-witted, loose-tongued person who can be so entertaining and the center of attention and who is always characterized as being so spontaneous is not certainly being moved by and giving expression to the good spontaneity. For one eager to love God with his or her whole being, the challenge is not simply to let the spontaneous happen but rather to be able to sift'out these various spontaneous urges and give full existential ratification to those spontaneous feelings that are from and for God. We do this by allowing the truly Spirited-spontaneity to happen in our daily lives. But we must learn the feel of this true Spirited-spontaneity. Examen has a very central role in this learning. When examen is related to discernment, it becomes examen of consciousness rather than of conscience. Examen of conscience has narrow moralistic overtones. Though we were always told that examen of conscience in religious life was not the same as a preparation for confession, it was actually explained and treated as though it were much the same. The prime concern was with what good or bad actions we had done each day. In discernment the prime concern is not with the morality of good or bad actions; rather the concern is how the Lord is affecting and moving us (often quite spontaneously!) deep in our own affective consciousness. What is happening in our consciousness is prior to and more important than our actions which can be delineated as ju~'idically good or evil. How we are experiencing the "drawing" of the Father (Jn 6:44) in our own existential consciousness and how our sinful nature is quietly tempting us and luring us away from our Father in Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 15 subtle dispositions of our consciousness - this is what the daily examen is concerned with prior to a concern for our response in our actions. So it is examen of consciousness that we are concerned with here, so that we can cooperate with and let happen that beautiful, spontaneity in Our hearts which is the touch of our Father and the urging of the Spirit. Examen and Religious Identity The examen we are talking about here is not a Ben Franklin-like striving for self-perfection. We are talking about an experience in faith of growing sensitivity to the unique, intimately special ways that the Lord's Spirit has of approaching and calling us. Obviously it takes time for this growth. But in this sense examen is a daily renewal and growth in our religious identity - this unique flesh-spirit person being loved by God and called by Him deep in his personal affective world. It is not possible for me to make an examen without confronting my own identity in Christ before the Father - my own religious identity as poor, celibate, and obedient in imitation of Christ as experienced in the charism of my religious vocation. And yet so often our daily examen becomes so general and vague and unspecific that our religious identity (Jesuit, Dominican, Franciscan, and so forth) does not seem to make any difference. Examen assumes real value when it becomes a daily experience of confrontation and renewal of our unique religious identity and how the Lord is subtly inviting us to deepen and develop this identity. We should make examen each time with as precise a grasp as we have now on our religious identity. We do not make it just as any Christian but as this specific Christian person with a unique vocation and grace in faith. Examen and Prayer The examen is a time of prayer. The dangers of an empty self-reflection or an unhealthy self-centered introspection are very real. On the other hand, a lack of effort at examen and the approach of living according to what comes naturally keeps us quite superficial and insensitive to the subtle and profound ways of the Lord deep in our hearts. The prayerful quality and effectiveness of the examen itself depends upon its relationship to the continuing contemplative prayer of the person. Without this relationship examen slips to the level of self-reflection for self-perfection, if it perdures at all. In daily contemplative prayer the Father reveals to us at His own pace the order of the mystery of all reality in Christ - as Paul says to the Colossians: ". those to whom God has planned to give a vision of the full wonder and splendor of his secret plan for the nations" (Col 1:27). The contemplator experiences in many subtle, chiefly non-verbal, ways this revelation of the Father in Christ. The presence of the Spirit of the risen Jesus in the heart of the believer makes it possible to sense and "hear" this invitation (challenge!) to order ourselves to this revelation. Contempla-tion is empty without this "ordering" response. This kind of reverent, docile (the "obedience of faith" Paul speaks of in Rom 16:26), and non-moralistic ordering is the work of the daily examen - to sense and recognize those interior invitations of the Lord that guide and deepen this ordering from day to day and not to cooperate with those subtle insinuations opposed to that ordering. Without that contemplative contact with the Father's revelation of reality in Christ, both in formal prayer and informal prayerfulness, the daily practice of examen becomes empty; it shrivels up and dies. Without this "listening" to the Father's revelation of His ways which are so different from our own (Is 55:8-9), examen again becomes that shaping up of ourselves which is 16 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 human and natural self-perfection or, even worse, it can become that selfish ordering of ourselves to our own ways. Examen without regular contemplation is futile. A failure at regular contempla-tion emaciates the beautifully rich experience of response-ible ordering which the contemplative is continually invited to by the Lord. It is true, on the other hand, that contemplation without regular examen becomes compartmentalized and superficial and stunted in a person's life. The time of formal prayer can become a very sacrosanct period in a person's day but so isolated from the rest of his life that he is not prayerful (finding God in all things) at that level where he really lives. The examen gives our daily contemplative experience of God real bite into all our daily living; it is an important means to finding God in everything and not just in the time of formal prayer, as we will explain at the end of this article. ADiscerning Vision of Heart When we first learned about the examen in religious life, it was a specific exercise of prayer for about a quarter of an hour. And at first it seemed quite stylized and almost artificial. This problem was not in the examen-prayer but in ourselves; we were beginners and had not yet worked out that integration in ourselves of a process of personal discernment to be expressed in daily examens. For the beginner, before he has achieved much of a personalized integration, an exercise or process can be very valuable and yet seem formal and stylized. This should not put us off. It will be the inevitable experience in religious life for the novice and for the "oldtimer" who is beginning again at examen. But examen will fundamentally be misunderstood if the goal of this exercise is not grasped. The specific exercise of examen is ultimately aimed at developing a heart with a discerning vision to be active not only for one or two quarter-hour periods in a day but continually. This is a gift from the Lord -- a most important one as Solomon realized (1 Kings 3:9-12). So we must constantly pray for this gift, but we must also be receptive to its development within our hearts. A daily practice of examen is essential to this development. Hence the five steps of the exercise of examen as presented in the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola (# 43) are to be seen, and gradually experienced in faith, as dimensions of the Christian consciousness, formed by God and His work in the heart as it confronts and grows within this world and all of reality. If we allow the Father gradually to transform our mind and heart into that of His Son, to become truly Christian, through our living experience in this world, then the examen, with its separate elements now seen as integrated dimensions of our own consciousness looking out on the world, is much more organic to our outlook and will seem much less contrived. So there is no ideal time allocation for the five elements of the examen each time but rather a daily organic expression of the spiritual mood of the heart. At one time we are drawn to one element longer than the others and at another time to another element over the others. The mature Ignatius near the end of his life was always examining every movement and inclination of his heart which means he was discerning the congruence of everything with his true Christ-centered self. This was the overflow of those regular intensive prayer-exercises of examen every day. The novice or "oldtimer" must be aware both of the point of the one or two quarter-hour exercises of examen each day, namely, a continually discerning heart, and of the necessary gradual adaptation of his practice of examen to his stage of development and the situation in the world in which he finds himself. And yet we are all aware Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 17 of the subtle rationalization of giving up formal examen each day because we have "arrived at" that continually discerning heart. This kind of rationalization will prevent further growth in faith sensitivity to the Spirit and His ways in our daily lives. Let us now take a look at the format of the examen as presented by St. Ignatius in the Spiritual Exercises, #43 but in light of these previous comments on examen as discerning consciousness within the world. Prayer for Enlightenment In the Exercises Ignatius has an act of thanksgiving as the first part of the examen. The first two parts could be interchanged without too much difference. In fact, I would suggest the prayer for enlightenment as a fitting introduction to the examen. The examen is not simply a matter of a person's natural power of memory and analysis going back over a part of the day. It is a matter of Spirit-guided insight into my life and courageously responsive sensitivity to God's call in my heart. What we are seeking here is that gradually growing appreciative insight into the mystery which I am. Without the Father's revealing grace this kind of insight is not possible. The Christian must be careful not to get locked into the world of his own human natural powers. Our technological world can pose as a special danger in this regard. Founded on a deep appreciation of the humanly interpersonal, the Christian in faith transcends the boundaries of the here-and-now with its limited natural causality and discovers a Father who loves and works in and through and beyond all., For this reason we begin the examen with an explicit petition for that enlightenment which will occur in and through our own powers but which our own natural powers could never be capable of all by themselves. That the Spirit may help me to see myself a bit more as He sees me Himself! Reflective Thanksgiving The stance of a Christian in the midst of the world is that of a poor person, possessing nothing, not even himself, and yet being gifted at every instant in and through everything. When we become too affluently involved with ourselves and deny our inherent poverty, then we lose the gifts and either begin to make demands for what we think we deserve (often leading to angry frustration) or we blandly take for granted all that comes our way. Only the truly poor person can appreciate the slightest gift and feel genuine gratitude. The more deeply we live in faith the poorer we are and the more gifted; life itself becomes humble, joyful thanksgiving. This should gradually become an element of our abiding consciousness. After the introductory prayer for enlightenment our hearts should rest in genuine faith-filled gratitude to our Father for His gifts in this most recent part of the day. Perhaps in the spontaneity of the happening we were not aware of the gift and now in this exercise of reflective prayer we see the events in a very different perspective. Our sudden gratitude - now the act of a humble selfless pauper - helps make us ready to discover the gift more clearly in a future sudden spontaneity. Our gratitude should center on the concrete, uniquely personal gifts that each of us was blessed with, whether large and obviously important or tiny and apparently insignificant. There is much in our lives that we take for granted; gradually He will lead us to a deep realization that all isgift. It is right to give Him praise and thanks! Practical Survey of Actions In this third element of the examen ordinarily we rush to review, in some specific 18 Review for Religious, Volume .31, 1972/1 detail, our actions of that part of the day just finished so we can catalogue them as good or bad. Just what we shouldn't do! Our prime concern here in faith is what has been happening to and in us since the last exa.men. The operative questions are: what has been happening in us, how has the Lord been working in us, what has He been asking us. And only secondarily are our own actions to be considered. This part of the examen presumes that we have become sensitive to our interior feelings, moods, and slightest urgings and that we are not frightened by them but have learned to take them very seriously. It is here in~ the depths of our affectivity, so spontaneous, strong, and shadowy at times, that God moves us and deals with us most intimately. These interior moods, feelings, urges, and movements are the "spirits" that must be sifted out, discerned, so we can recognize the Lord's call to us at this intimate core of our being. As we have; said above, the examen is a chief means to this discerning of our interior consciousness. This presumes a real faith approach to life - that life is first listening, then acting in response: The fundamental attitude of the believer is of one who listens. It is to the Lord's utterances that he gives ear. In as many different ways and on as many varied levels as the listener can d"iosbceedrnie tnhcee wofo rfdai tahn.d" .w. iIltl oisf tthhee Laottridtu mdaen oiffe srteecde tpot ihvinit~y, ,h pe amsussitv rietsypoIn adn wdi tpho avlel rthtye oPfa uolninee who is always in need, radically dependent, conscious of his creaturehood. Hence the great need for interior quiet, peace, and a passionate receptivity that attunes us to listening to God's word at every instant and in every situation and then responding in our own activity. Again in a world that is founded more on activity (becoming activism), productivity, and efficiency (whereas efficacity is a norm for the kingdom of God!) this faith view is implicitly, if not explicitly, challenged at every turn in the road. And so our first concern here is with these subtle.intimate, affective ways in which the Lord has been dealing with us during these past few hours. Perhaps we did not recognize Him calling in that past moment, but now our vision is clear and direct. Secondarily our concern is with our actions insofar as they were responses to His calling. So often our activity becomes primary to hs and all sense of response in our activity is lost. We become self-moved and mbtivated rather than moved and motivated by the Spirit (Rom 8:14). This is a subtle lack of faith and failure to live as a son or daughter of our Father. In the light of faith it is the quality (of responsive-ness) of the activity, more than the activity itself, which makes the difference for the kingdom of God. , In this general review there is no strain to reproduce every second since the last examen; rather our concern is with specific details and incidents as they reveal patterns and bring some clarity and insight. This brings us to a consideration of what Ignatius calls the particular examen. This element of the examen, perhaps more than any other, has been misunder-stood. It has often become an effort to divide and conquer by moving down the list of vices or up the list of virtues in a mechanically planned approach to self-perfection. A certain amount of time was spent on each vice or virtue one by one, and then we moved on to the next one on the list. Rather than a practical programmed approach to perfection, the parti'cular examen is meant to be a reverently honest, personal meeting with the Lordfin our own hearts. I David Asselin, S.J., "Christian Maturity and Spiritual Discernment," Review for Religious, v. 27 (1968), p. 594. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 19 When we become sensitive and serious enough about loving God, we begin to realize some changes must be made. We are deficient in so many areas and so many defects must be done away with. But the Lord does not want all of them to be handled at once. Usually there is one area of our hearts where He is especially calling for conversion which is always the beginning of new life. He is interiorly nudging us in one area and reminding us that if we are really serious about Him this one aspect of ourselves must be changed. This is often precisely the one area we want to forget and (maybe!) work on later. We do not want to let His word condemn us in this one area and so we try to forget it and distract ourselves by working on some other safer area which does require conversion but not with the same urgent sting of consciousness that is true of the former area. It is in this first area of our hearts, if we will be honest and open with the Lord, where we are very personally experiencing the Lord in the burning fire of His Word as He confronts us here and now. So often we fail to recognize this guilt for what it really is or we try to blunt it by working hard on something else that we may want to correct whereas the Lord wants something else here and now. For beginners it takes time to become interiorly sensitive to God before they gradually come to recognize the Lord's cidl to conversion (maybe involving a very painful struggle!) in some area of their lives. It is better for beginners to take this time to learn what the Lord wants their particular examen now to be rather than just taking some assigned imperfection to get started on. And so the particular examen is very personal, honest, and at times a very subtle experience of the Lord calling in our hearts for deeper conversion to Himself. The matter of the conversion may remain the same for a long period of time, but the important thing is our sense of His personal challenge to us. Often this experience of the Lord calling for conversion in one small part of our hearts takes the expression of good healthy guilt which should be carefully interpreted and responded to if there is to be progress in holiness. When the particular examen is seen as this personal experience of the Lord's love for us, then we can understand why St. Ignatius suggests that we turn our whole consciousness to this experience of the Lord (whatever it be in all practicality, for example, more subtle humility or readiness to get involved with people on their terms, etc.) at those two very important moments in our day, when we begin our day and when we close it, besides the formal examen times. In this third dimension of the formal examen the growing faith sense of our sinfulness is very central. This is more of a spiritual faith reality as revealed by the Father in our experience than a heavily moralistic and guilt-laden reality. A deep sense of sinfulness depends on our growth in faith and is a dynamic realization which always ends in thanksgiving - the song of a "saved sinner." In his book Growth in the Spirit, Francgis Roustang, in the second chapter, speaks very profoundly about sinfulness and thanksgiving. This can provide enormous insight into the relationship of these second and third elements of the formal examen, especially as dimensions of our abiding Christian consciousness. Contrition and Sorrow The Christian heart is always a heart in song - a song of deep joy and gratitude. But the Alleluia can be quite superficial and without body and depth unless it is genuinely touched with sorrow. This is the song of a sinner constantly aware of being prey to his sinful tendencies and yet being converted into the newness which is guaranteed in the victory of Jesus Christ. Hence, we never grow out of a sense of wonder-ful sorrow in the presence of our Savior. 2O Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 This basic dimension of our heart's vision which the Father desires to deepen in us as He converts us from sinners to His sons and daughters, if we allow Him, is here applied to the specifics of our actions since the lhst examen, especially insofar as they were selfishly inadequate responses to the Lord's work in our hearts. This sorrow will especially spring from the lack of honesty and courage in responding to the Lord's call in the particular examen. This contrition and sorrow is not a shame nor a depression at our weakness but a faith experience as we grow in our realization of our Father's awesome desire that we love Him with every ounce of our being. After this description, the value of pausing each day in formal examen and giving concrete expression to this abiding sense of sorrow in our hearts should be quite obvious and should flow naturally from the third element of practical survey of our actions. Hopeful Resolution for Future This final element of the formal daily examen grows very naturally out of the previous elements. The organic development leads us to face the future which is now rising to encounter us and become integrated into our lives. In the light of our present discernment of the immediate past how do we look to the future? Are we discouraged or despondent or fearful of the future? If this is the atmosphere of our hearts now, we must wonder why and try to interpret this atmosphere; we must be honest in acknowledging our feeling for the future, and not repress it by hoping it will go away. The precise expression of this final element will be determined by the organic flow of this precise examen now. Accordingly, this element of resolution for the immediate future will never happen the same way each time. If it did happen in the same expression each time, it would be a sure sign that we were not really entering into the previous four elements of the examen. At this point in the examen there should be a great desire to face the future with renewed vision and sensitivity as we pray both t~ recognize even more the subtle ways in which the Lord will greet us and to hear His Word call us in the existential situation of the future and to respond to His call with more faith, humility, and courage. This should be especially true of that intimate abiding experience of the Lord calling for painful conversion in some area of our heart - what we have called the particular examen. A great hope should be the atmosphere of our hearts at this point - a hope not founded on our own deserts, or our own powers for the future, but rather founded much more fully in our Father whose glorious victory in Jesus Christ we share through the life of Their Spirit in our hearts. The more we will trust God and allow Him to lead in our lives, the more we will experience true supernatural hope in God painfully in and through, but quite beyond, our own weak powers - an experience at times frightening and emptying but ultimately joyfully exhilarating. St. Paul in this whole passage from the Letter to the Philippians (3:7-14) expresses well the spirit of this conclusion of the formal examen: ". I leave the past behind and with hands outstretched to whatever lies ahead I go straight for the goal" (3:13). Examen and Discernment We will close this article with some summary remarks about the examen, as here described, and disceinment of spirits. When examen is understood in this light and so practiced each day, then it becomes so much more than just a brief exercise performed once or twice ~ day and which is quite secondary to our formal prayer Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 21 and active living of God's love in our daily situation. Rather it becomes an exercise which so focuses and renews our specific faith identity that we should be even more reluctant to omit our examen than our formal contemplative prayer each day. This seems to have been St. Ignatius' view of the practice of the examen. He never talks of omitting it though he does talk of adapting and abbreviating the daily meditation for various reasons. For him it seems the examen was central and quite inviolate. This strikes us as strange until we revamp our understanding of the examen. Then perhaps we begin to see the examen as so intimately connected to our growing identity and so important to our finding God in all things at all times that it becomes our central daily experience of prayer. For Ignatius finding God in all things is what life is all about. Near the end of his life he said that "whenever he wished, at whatever hour, he could find God" (Autobiography, # 99). This is the mature Ignatius who had so fully allowed God to possess every ounce of his being through a clear YES to the Father that radiated from the very core of his being, that he could be conscious at any moment he wanted of the deep peace, joy, and contentment (consolation, see the Exercises, # 316) which was the experience of God at the center of his heart. Ignatius' identity, at this point in his life, was quite fully and clearly "in Christ" as Paul says: "For now my place is in him, and I am not dependent upon any of the self-achieved righteousness of the Law" (Phil 3:9); Ignatius knew and was his true self in Christ. Being able to find God whenever he wanted, Ignatius was now able to find Him in all things through a test for congruenc~ of any interior impulse, mood, or feeling with his true self. Whenever he found interior consonance within himself (which registers as peace, joy, contentment again) from the immediate interior movement and felt himself being his true congruent self, then he knew he had heard God's word to him at that instant. And he responded with that fullness of humble courage so typical of Ignatius. If he discovered interior dissonance, agitation, and disturb-ance "at the bottom of the heart" (to be carefully distinguished from repugnance "at the top of the head''2) and could not find his true congruent self in Christ, then he recognized the interior impulse as an "evil spirit" and he experienced God by "going against" the desolate impulse (cf. Exercises, # 319). In this way he was able to find God in all things by carefully discerning all his interior experiences ("spirits"). Thus discernment of spirits became a daily very practical living of the art of loving God with his whole heart, whole body, and whole strength. Every moment of life was loving (finding) God in the existential situation in a deep quiet, peace, and joy. For Ignatius, this finding God in the prese.nt interior movement, feeling, or option was almost instantaneous in his mature years because the central "feel" or "bent" of his being had so been grasped by God. For the beginner, what was almost instantaneous for the mature Ignatius may require the effort of a prayerful process of a few hours or days depending on the importance of the movement-impulse to be discerned. In some of his writings, Ignatius uses examen to refer to this almost instantaneous test for congruence with his true self - something he could do a number of times every hour of the day. But he also speaks of examen in the formal restricted sense of two quarter-hour exercises of prayer a day. The intimate and essential relationship between these two senses of examen has been the point of this whole article. 2john Carroll Futrell, S.J., Ignatian Discernment (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1970), p. 64. IEDWABD CARTIER, S.J. Pluralism in Christian Life [ Edward Carter, S.J., author of Response in Christ (1969) and Spirituality for Modern Man (197 I), is associate professor of theology at Xavier University ; Cincinnati, Ohio 4520"/.] There has always been a certain diversity which has characterized the history of Christian life or spirituality. There have been different schools of spirituality, different trends, different emphases; but all of these, in so far as they have been authentic, have been rooted in the same gospel message. They have, each in their own manner, been reflections of the one mystery of Christ. Today's Church is marked by an accentuation of this diversity in spirituality or Christian living. But before fastening our gaze upon the contemporary scene, let us first reflect upon some of the theological principles which give rise to this diversity or pluralism. The first of these principles concerns the mystery of Christ as relived by Church and Christian. The People of God, individually and collectively, are meant to continue the redemptive Incarnation in space and time by reliving the life, death, and resurrection of Christ - the mystery of Christ. The mystery of Christ, however, is richly d.iversified. Jesus in His life, death, and resurrection has left us many different truths and examples to be incorporated into our own Christian existence. Historically, this rich variation of the mystery of Christ has given rise to different schools of spirituality. Each of these gives a special witness to this or that aspect of the Christ-event, to its own particular harmonization and implementation of the various facets which comprise this event - the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. For instance, Carmelite spirituality has always stressed prayer, as it gives a special witness to the Christ who often went aside and prayed to His heavenly Father. Benedictine spirituality gives a special attention to liturgy, and, consequently, emphasizes the priestly activity of Christ. Dominican spirituality has traditionally stressed the pursuit of truth as it points in its own special manner to the prophetic or teaching office of Christ. Franciscan spirituality, among other things, has emphasized the material simplicity of Jesus' life. Ignatian spirituality has stressed as one of its leading characteristics the union of a~tion and contemplation - both of which were marvelously blended in the life of Jesus. In more recent times, in the effort to apply in a special way the mystery of Christ to the diocesan priesthood and to the laity, there have been writings dealing with the spiritualities appropriate to these two vocations. The mystery of Christ, then, possessing at one and the same time a varied richness and a profound unity, makes possible different spiritual movements which, however, ultimately comprise but one Christian spirituality. Consequently, we must preserve a balanced view. We must admit the legitimacy of varied spiritual movements and schools of spirituality with their own particular nuances in the following of Christ, while at the same time realizing that all Christian spiritualities are essentially the same. They have very much in common since they are rooted in the one Christ, in one and the same total Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 23 gospel, in one and the same liturgy. We have established what is a very basic theological reason for diversity in spirituality - the diversity which is contained in the very mystery of Christ. There are two more principles we would now like "to discuss which help us to see' the utility and even necessity of diversity or pluralism in the Christian life. These second and third principles are connected with what we might term the theology of personal uniqueness, and the theology of time and culture. The theology of personal uniqueness tells us that each human person is an eternal imitation of God. Any one individual can truthfully say that there never has been, is not now, nor ever will be, any other person like himself. Each person is a eternal uniqueness. As we are elevated to supernatural life through our incorporation into Christ, this personal uniqueness is .deepened. This is simply an application of the theological principle that grace does not destroy nor lessen nature, but perfects it, gives it a deepened capacity to actuate more deeply all its authentic dimensions. One of these dimensions is personal uniqueness. Our life in Christ, then, far from destroying or lessening our uniqueness, respects and develops it. There are various implications and ramifications flowing out of this theology of personal uniqueness relative to diversity or pluralism in spirituality. We have said that there are various spiritual movements and schools of spirituality because of the possibility of reliving the richly diversified .mystery of Christ with different emphases and nuances. As this diversity is possible between schools of spirituality, so is it possible in reference to individuals. Not only is it possible, but it is actually necessary because of the concept of personal uniqueness. No two Christians will put on Christ in exactly the same manner; for they put on Christ according to what each is. Although obviously each Christian is to assimilate Christ in essentially the same manner, he will also do it in a manner which cannot be duplicated. He will offer Christ his own unique person with his unique temperament, personality, capacities, and talents. Through the uniqueness of this Christian, Christ continues His redemptive Incarnation in a particular way, a way which cannot be duplicated. Consequently, even though two individuals are following the same spirituality - Dominican, Franciscan, Ignatian, or any other - there will be a difference or a diversity manifested as they live out this common spirituality. Sometimes this diversity will be quite striking. This does not mean that one or the other has wavered from the spiritual tradition to which each has committed himself or herself. Of course, such a diversity could be so explained in certain instances. But a diversity, and again even a striking one, could be present as each is authentically living out the one spiritual tradition which they profess in common. In such cases the diversity is to be explained by the principle of personal uniqueness. Furthermore, pluralism or diversity in the Christian life is found not only between the different spiritualities, not only between individuals, but also within the extended existence of the same individual. Contemporary thought has empha-sized that man and his world must be considered according to a framework which has a dynamic, progressive, evolutionary dimension. We now realize that we must not view man as being a static creature. While it is obviously important to realize that man is always essential!y the same throughout the ages, it is also very important to remember that man has a thrust toward change, toward evolving into what he is yet to become,.toward authentically adapting to the signs of the times. If such truths are applicable to mankind in general, they are also proportionately pertinent to each individual. Because each individual has an evolutionary dimen-. sion, a thrust toward that which has not yet been achieved, an innate desire to 24 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 become more what his uniqueness is destined to be, he is simultaneously always the same individual and always a dynamically different individual. One's personal uniqueness, then, has both an unchangeable and a changeable dimension. We can see the implications of this for one's Christian existence. Because the Christian is meant to change dynamically and evolve into a greater assimilation to Christ, his needs are not always the same. While he must always strive to maintain a proper balance of the Christian essentials according to his present spiritual condition and development, his needs may vary.'At a certain time he may be attracted to giving a considerable amount of time to formal prayer. At another time, while not neglecting set times of prayer, he may feel called to a greater external involvement for the cause of Christ. At certain periods of his life he may feel a need for frequent spiritual direction, while at other times the intervals of this direction will be greatly lengthened. A person can feel a graced attraction for the renunciation of certain created goods and values at one time, while at another he is drawn rather to use and relate to them in a proper fashion. While always striving to have a proper balance in his imitation of Christ, he can differ in his desire to focus his attention now on this, now on that event of Jesus' life, now on this truth of Christ, now on another. Spiritual diversity or pluralism, consequently, is present within the one and same Christian individual. Having seen how diversity is present in the Christian life because of the principle of pluralism contained in the very mystery of Christ, and because of the principle of personal uniqueness, we now come to our third and final principle which helps provide a basis for such diversity or pluralism. This principle deals with ideas contained in what can be called the theology of time and culture. In God's dealings with mankind, the concepts of time, or of historical situation, and culture, have played a very important role. In saving man, God works within time, history, and culture. His salvific action is not unnaturally superimposed upon man's historical and cultural situation. Rather, God's salvific process works within time, history, and culture. Consequently, His saving will throughout the continued course of salvation history manifests itself differently - diversely or pluralistically. This diversity or pluralism of God's salvific activity can in part be explained by the factor of historical and cultural exigency. A .classic example of this is the comparison between the old and new covenants. God's dealings with the people of the Mosaic covenant were conditioned both by the point of time in salvation history that was then actually operative, and the culture of the Jewish people. With the enfleshment of His Son and the ensuing formation of the new covenant, God communicated Himself in a manner partially different from that Self-communica-tion which prevailed during the time of the Mosaic covenant. If God's salvific activity has a pluralism or diversity attached to it because He respects the time-conditioned and culture-conditioned life situation of man, so must there be a similarly caused pluralism in Christian life. For the Christian life is radically a response to God's salvific activity, a response to His loving initiative which always precedes us. God's activity, respecting the differences which time and culture insert into human history, will exact differentiated responses from the Christian community. This differentiation or pluralism can exist between the various ages of the Church, and, therefore, we legitimately speak of the pre-dominant spirituality of the sixteenth century or of a certain period within the eighteenth century. This pluralism can also exist within the same age because of cultural differences. God respects the African culture, the Chinese culture, the American culture, and so forth. As Christians within these various cultures respond Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/I 25 to God's continued Self-communication, they will do so in a manner which is partly determined by their particular cultures. Because there are differences in their cultures, we will find a Christian pluralism arising out of these cultural differences. An African spirituality will differ somewhat from an American spirituality, and they both will differ from a Spanish spirituality. Up to this point we have been discussing basic truths and principles which offer a sound theological basis for pluralism in Christian spirituality. This pluralism, while obviously having a place in any age of Christianity, is an especially important dimension of contemporary Christian life; for today's Church offers a particularly advantageous climate for the development of authentic pluralism in Christian living. This favorable climate has developed because of the greater spirit of freedom which is present in today's Church. True, this greater freedom has been abused in many instances, but this fact cannot deny that God seems to intend this climate of expanded freedom in today's Church, for this freedom has emanated from the very truths and principles of Vatican II. The connection between pluralism and a Church which allows a greater freedom of thought and life style expression is obvious. In such a Church various thrusts of pluralism and diversity are bound to fructify more often than in a Church which is heavily monolithic, a Church which has its thought and life style too much imposed from the top down. The hierarchy will always have the leading role in directing the Christian thought and life style of the People of God, but it must do so according to the principle of collegiality. This principle allows for all members of the People of God to help shape the life of the Church. However, in order to flourish, collegiality needs a spirit of freedom, some elbow room in which to maneuver - and, yes, even in which to make some mistakes. Consequently, even though some are tempted to think at times that the greater freedom of today's Church has resulted in more harm than good, fundamentally this is not true. In the last analysis such a Church will be a healthier and more mature Church - and one characterized by a greater pluralism in her Christian life. There are already various examples of an increased pluralism in today's Christian life. For instance, the liturgical aspect of today's spirituality is greatly diversified when compared to the liturgical situation of ten years ago. As for the apostolic dimension of contemporary Christian life, there has been considerable discussion and implementation relative to pluralism in Christian ministry. Also, Christian life style is considerably more pluralistic today than previously. This greater diversity of life style can be found even within the one and same religious order or congregation. There has also been a much greater pluralism in theological thought, a pluralism which often filters down and makes its impact on spirituality, on Christian living. New and diversified forms of prayer have appeared to take their places alongside the traditional ones. These, then, are some indications that today's Christian life is marked by an increased diversity. There are three special qualities which are necessary to live properly in today's Christian community with its increased pluralism. These qualities are not mutually exclusive. There is an overlap between them, but each has its own particular nuance. First of all, there is the need for an increased awareness of the necessity of spiritual discernment. Among the diverse movements in today's Church, which are really Spirit-led? And after I satisfy myself as to which are Spirit-inspired and which are not, which one does the Spirit intend for me personally? Regardless of any particular age of the Church, the Spirit does not intend any one person to incorporate within his own Christian existence all authentic thought styles and life 26 Review for Religious, Volume 3 I, 1972/i styles. But in an age when authentic possibilities have been greatly increased and diversified, the necessity for spiritual discernment becomes more obvious. To cope properly with today's pluralism we also especially need the quality of Christian maturity. Increased diversity within the Church demands increased maturity. In the more tightly structured and monolithic Church of pre-Vatican II days, we had things spelled out for us in much greater detail compared to the situation which prevails today. The Church of today is asking us to exercise a greater maturity, a more mature use of our freedom, as we are called upon to live responsibly in a more pluralistic Church. The Church is asking us to use our greater freedom properly, not to abuse it, but to direct it, among other ways, at the development of an authentic pluralism. Finally, besides an increased sense of Christian discernment and maturity, there is a special need today for the spirit of Chrisitan tolerance - a tolerance of the views and life styles which do not agree with my own. The need for this spirit of tolerance is indeed evident if only we look at what each of us has experienced in recent years. One of the great pains of the post-Vatican I1 Church is precisely that caused by the numerous and diverse viewpoints which have arisen in the contem-porary Church. This spirit of tolerance, of course, does not mean we condone what we think is wrong. It does mean, though, an increased effort at being open to the views of others, an admission that a more greatly diversified Church is intended by the signs of the times, a realization that we are all more likely to make mistakes in such a situation as we grope for the lead of the Spirit, a lead which at times is much more hidden than we would like because of the confusion of a Church and world experiencing a radical transition. A more diversified Church and a more pluralistic Christian life are what we are all experiencing. We can say, as perhaps all of us have been tempted to say at one time or another during recent years, that it is too difficult to cope consistently with the situation. We have all, no doubt, been tempted to withdraw from the struggle which an increasingly pluralistic Church demands. We have been tempted to carve out our own little niche of Christian existence and there lead an unperturbed life and let all the confusion of a Church striving for authentic renewal and pluralism pass us by. If we surrendered to such a temptation, we would avoid a certain kind of pain and suffering. But we would also be missing the joy and sense of accomplishment which result from contributing our share to the shaping of a contemporary Christian life - one characterized, among other things, by an increased pluralism. DAVID K. 0'ROURKE, 0.P. Three Models for Viewing Religious Life [David K.O'Rourke, O.P:, is the prior of the Berkeley Priory; 1730 Arch Street; Berkeley, California 94709; he is also associate professor of pastoral theology in St. Albert's College and in the Graduate Theological Onion of Berkeley and is associate director of the Western Dominican Province's Pastoral Training Program. I The purpose of this article is to give a structured view of some of the reasons why a man may choose to enter religious life. More specifically, it is an attempt to understand in a schematic and rationalized way, with three different and distinct models, what there is in the religious life that brings a potential member to view it as a viable alternative to the several possibilities in the lay life. Obviously, this means that I see the religious life as a viable alternative, and such is the case. There is always the possibility that an analysis of religious motivations and structures can come from, or be seen as, an attempt to undercut religious life. The fact that analyses of this sort have been known to have the heavy-handedness of an autopsy supports these fears. Such is not my purpose. I presuppose that religious life is livable and worthwhile, and I presuppose this because I have seen it to be so for myself and others. Of course, there are pathological reasons why one may choose to enter a religious community. These have been analyzed with ability and insight. My purpose here is to apply the same analytic approach to the valid and healthy reasons that enter into a sound vocation. This latter comment is significant because it points out the pragmatic and experiential quality of the approach I will follow in this article. There are other approaches, ones which would begin on a more absolute and theocentric note, or ones which could begin in a less concrete and more "spiritual" way. I have no argument with them. I presuppose all they might say. Here I limit myself to the more human and concrete elements which enter into an individual's decision. It will also be noted that I am speaking here of male religious. This does not mean that the ideas presented here are not applicable to women religious. However, the ideas in this article are drawn from experience with male religious and in fact might not be applicable to women. My experience with women religious has been limited primarily to counseling those in the process of leaving their communities. Obviously this would give me a one-sided view, so I will leave the question of applicability to the ladies themselves. To begin with, and again noting that my view is of healthy reasons, I see people entering religious life in order to make sense of their lives. With the approach of adulthood a young man is faced with the need of stating for himself who he is, the better to enter into the tasks and relationships that face him. The answer to the question "Who am I?" is critical for his future life. Now it is fairly certain, I imagine, that very few men, save in the hands of TV script writers, actually pose the question "Who am I?" in so many words. Yet, faced with choosing their education, their type and place of employment, their friends, and the need to 28 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 establish a different, more independent relationship with their families, they are in fact faced with the question "Who am 17" And the answers that each makes to these questions, the decisions he maizes about his education, employment, and human relationships will bring into play and firm up the values that will give the ethical dimension to his self-view. It is my experience that the choice for a life within the context of a religious community can be understood in this light. To make this understanding more concrete 1 propose to speak about three models of religious life which have occurred to me, and which bespeak three rather functionally significant aspects of life. They are functionally significant, as I put it, in that by their individual and interwoven appeal they can be seen to account for a major portion of our religious vocations. These three models are the service model, the life style model and the intellectual model. I will speak of each in turn. The service model entails the desire to help, and the process of being helpful to, others. It means a self-view in which the helping process looms large. Asked the question "Who am I?" the answer would be "I am a person who helps others." Obviously, this desire to help and the actual fact of serving can take many forms. In fact it has taken many forms in the course of the Church's history. The many religious groups dedicated to education, to caring for the sick and old, and in general to meeting the needs of those in need, bear eloquent witness to the institutionalization of the service model. Viewing this model further within the context of self-identity, we can single out the following additional elements. By definition it is other-oriented. There is a relational quality which predominates. The individual's energies turn outward from himself to another person or persons. Furthermore, the medium by which the individual religious relates to others is the work he performs for them. This bespeaks a certain type of personality. 1 might add here that the notion of a "personality type" does not imply some sort of pathology. Rather, it is no more than the recognition that the abilities, interests, likes, and dislikes of any individual will lead him to interact with the world around him in such a way that we can note patterns of similarity between certain individuals. The second of the models is the life style model. This is really quite different from the service model. Again using the question of identity, the individual attracted by this model would identify himself by referring to the way he goes about the details of his life. Its scheduling and disciplines, its structures such as the patterns of collective prayer, communality in housing, dress, and table all point to a definite and institutionalized way of life. And it is a style of life to which the individual adapts himself. Again, this life style model has had a long history in the Church. It typifies all those groups which we call monastic and can be seen as the most notable element in monasticism. The relational quality in the life style model is also quite different from that in the service model. Here the relationship is in large part with the individual himself. This might seem strange since there are so many external acts and tangible elements that go into the daily life of a monastic community and to which the individual is called on to relate and respond. But they are things whereby he can give to himself a shape and forming consonant with the values embodied in this style of life. It might seem that this life style model is not only different from but runs counter to the service model. In many ways this is true. It is difficult to say that a way of life that is oriented to helping others is basically the same as a way of life that is oriented toward helping one's self. I do not claim that they are basically the Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 29 same but quite the contrary. My purpose here is, once again, to state that these models are real, that they are articulated in these ways, and that they function in the lives of those in religious life. The third model of religious life 1 wish to go into is the intellectual model. This differs from the above two in that it denotes an approach that is typified not as much by action as by a state of mind. The individual who is attracted by this approach is an individual who enters situations head first. He is interested in knowing the reason why.Faced with the question of self-identity he answers "I am a person who must make sense of things, and to do so I must know why they are the way they are." Does this really differ from the other two? I find that it definitely does, that it is not just an aspect of either of the first two models. The individual drawn by the service model is not about to question the value of serving others. Its value is self-evident. The individual drawn by the life style model is content with the fact that to him this way of life feels right. The individual characterized by the intellectual model is by nature a questioner. Whatever the emotional or other causes, the result is an approach typified by a series of probing questions. Furthermore, his questioning will often be directed toward the other two models. Is this the person we should help? Is this the way to help? What are our priorities here, and are they correct? Is this monastic life appropriate? Why do you like it? Is it worthwhile, does it make sense? In relating to others he does so with a question on his lips. This question stems from his need to make intellectual sense of his world. He confronts, he challenges, he probes, often in a way offensive to those who do not understand his way of doing things. There is an analytic and evaluative process at work, one which can lead to a further integration into the religious life, but which can also appear to be negative and destructive. It can be argued that the individual drawn into religious life by the intellectual model is basically looking into someone else's way of doing things. What are his own supports and values? To answer perhaps oversimply, his chief support is the process itself of analyzing. As long as he is able to continue trying to make sense of things he will be sufficiently at home with himself to survive with some comfort. In addition, there is the more important question of this person's utility t6 the community around him. Does his probing and examining of his community's emotional, theological, financial, and mythological supports serve any purpose? I think it does. The Church in its history, at least in its more self-reflective periods, has tried to build in mechanisms for self-criticism. Granted, this has been with mixed success at best. But we do hold our own critics in some real esteem, at least in hindsight. In addition, we have institutionalized this critical process in those areas of moral theology which deal with concrete issues. The Church and the religious life, at least on the theoretical level, havealways had a place for the analyser, and the capacity of the institution to tolerate its critics is a sign of its maturity. It might also be helpful to point out, finally, that the questioning by this individual does not come necessarily from an opposition to those things he questions. It is analysis, it is not attack. It might well be hard to put up with, but it is primarily this person's way of relating to the world around him. At this point 1 would again like to point out that each of these models is a partial view, and each one does typify real people. Any one of these models is sufficiently capable of absorbing the energies of an individual to provide for him a rather complete view of his vocation. The fact that the model might bespeak a limited 30 Review for Religious, Volume 3 I, 1972/1 approach, in fact does bespeak a limited approach, is both true and irrelevant. The energies and interests of any one individual are always limited. What I am here maintaining is that this limitation has a recoghizable shape to. it, and that in my experience the diversity in these shapes can be viewed in the light of these three models without notable distortion. The fact of limitation can also have aspects to it which are not quite as neutral as might seem to be the case from the above statements. I would like to single out the types of difficulties that can and do arise with each of these models. The service model, as noted above, will be attractive to the person whose identity receives outward expression in helping others. Obviously, this means that this individual will be oriented toward work, since service reqhires work. In certain situations the outlet for helping others is rather severely cut off. This is the case in many novitiates, and especially during academic studies. Here the student is expected to channel his energies in ways which are different from those to which he is accustomed, and this does not come easy. I would suspect that much of the criticism directed against seminary studies has this at its root. The students are not so much opposed to study as they are frustrated in their desire, indeed their need, to expend their energies in the way that comes most easily to them. A basic pattern of relating is frustrated, and this frustration is going to make itself felt. In addition we can expect that any notable frustration in the attempt to be of service is going to cause stress for this individual. Whether the frustration comes from competing requirements, such as studies, or from official interference, or from the rejection of the services offered, the result will be the same - a sense of disorientation that the individual will be hard pressed to cope with. Of all these possibilities probably the most troubling is the rejection of help offered because it is so final and does not admit of alternatives. When the rejected help is the product of considerable effort and the result of a great in~,estment on the part of the individual, the effect can be devastating. Religious who place great stock in their work and are told at some point th::t what they have been preparing for or what they have already been doing is no longer needed are prime examples of this. Their crisis is not a minor one but one that can shake them to the roots of their personality. There is also the danger that the individual attracted by this model - or any of these three, for that matter - will not be a particularly self-reflective person. In this case he is not apt to see that his way of doing things - the particular model that attracts him, or his way of putting it to work - has some subjective and personal need-fulfilling sources to it. His way becomes absolutized, his way becomes the way, and other ways are to be adapted and refashioned in support of his. Furthermore, explaining to the non-reflective person, presenting him with an intelligible rationale which tells him why his view is too narrow, is a waste of time. By definition, by virtue of the fact that he is non-reflective, he will be unable to grasp tiffs. It is asking him to use a weak or undeveloped faculty. It is much better to present him with the conclusion, that is, that others are not going to adapt to suit him, and help him cope with it as best he can. With the person attracted by the life style model, the limitations are of quite another sort. We can pinpoint them by observing that monastic practices have considerable similarities in Christian and non-Christian traditions. It is possible to be a good monk, as the Buddhist monastic tradition bears witness, without being a Christian. There is thus nothing basically Christian about monasticism; it is one of the ways man has invented for living a human life. Also, monasticism can have an Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 31 absolute character to it; it can engage all the time and energies of the monk in a pattern of meditative, penitential, and ritual practices. In addition there is a certain absolutism in Christianity. The life and teachings of Jesus, our knowledge of the early Church from the Acts and St. Paul, and the subsequent development of both these in the life of the Church and in its theology, point out that the half-hearted and lukewarm Christian life is to be shunned in favor of greater commitment. The danger here is to make the mistake of equating monastic absolutism with Christian absolutism. 1 believe that when this happens it does so because monastic absolutism presents an articulated, structured, and circumscribed channel for the Christian's desire to get in touch with what is absolute. In its most extreme form this would be to equate becoming one with the monastic absolute, that is, becoming absorbed, as it were, by the monastic life st~,le, with being one with God. It seems more exact to say that what has happened here is the substitution of a collective human structure for the individual personality, a process of quite questionable morality. But this is an extreme. Our focus here is the garden variety of problem that' comes from the life style model. The one I see to be common and troubling is the equation of religious life as a whole with the life style model. It is easy to see how this happens. Since it is the life style model that deals most directly with externals, especially with those externals which differentiate religious life from lay life, it is easy to equate these tangible and visible elements with religious life. This is a beginner's problem, and except in one area we seem to outgrow it. The exception has to do with the process of introducing new members. They are frequently placed under the direction of someone who is rather committed to the life style model. In large part I think this is due to the expectations of the incoming members, whose focus on visible and external elements is quite normal. It is also due, I suspect, to the guilt of work-oriented superiors about the lack of this model in their own lives, and for which they compensate in the choice of formation superiors. Be the cause what it may, it stacks the deck against a broader and more complete view of the opportunities present in the religious life. The problems in the intellectual model come, as with the others, from the very heart of the model. The intellectually oriented person is probably more developed in the thinking than in the feeling area. He will have less appreciation for the areas of religious life that utilize the feeling side, such as the symbolic and liturgical. This lack can become a real problem, for it can lead to an intolerance of any areas and elements which do not admit of the clear-cut, sharp-edged, and logical approach that is possible in the mind. Having viewed these three models there remains only one major comment I wish to make about them. It is fairly common to recognize that religious, like other people, will be oriented in one direction rather than another, that they have definite personalities, likes, dislikes, abilities, and weaknesses. And having recog-nized this, it is also common to forget it, to hope and expect that the individual will work out a personal balance including significant elements from each of these models. This is often raised to the level of an ideal, the religious equivalent of the well-rounded individual. This expectation is unrealistic, and it can be disastrous. A person who is drawn into religious life by the service model, and for whom the service model represents an important expression of his personal makeup, is quite apt not to be attracted by the life style model. If he is not, then any attempt to make him respond as though he were attracted by it probably won't work. If this is an importarit element in the 32 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 life of the group he is entering, then he should not enter it. If the religious group requires only some token observance of the life style model, recognized as token, then he can be expected to put up with it in the way any mature person can be expected to put up with things he doesn't like. But if the life style model, in fact, be important in the life of this community, then he shouldn't be there in the first place. There is no way, short of self-delusion, to get around the simple but difficult fact that he is in the wrong place. The hopes that he will change, that he will develop an appreciation for this view, are as futile as they are potentially destructive. The probable result will be complaining, fault-finding, and after considerable turmoil, departure for some situation where he can be of service to others and where he should probably have been in the first place. The same is true of the other models. The individual who comes to religious community because he wants and needs the structured, orderly life that comes from the life style model cannot realistically be expected to work and function well where these do not exist. If the life style model is part of the whole pattern of life there will be no problem. If, as is often the case, it is part of the seminary structure, after which the individual is expected to shift to a service model and provide his own working and personal structures, then there is going to be a dangerous situation, possibly involving a personal collapse. Similarly~ the individual drawn to religious life in order to make sense of his life, where making sense bespeaks an intellectual approach, cannot be expected to make a shift from this approach to another one. The fact that the particular style of life which he is asked to enter, and which he can't intellectually organize, might "feel right" to others will mean nothing to him and will probably antagonize him. The same applies to a work situation. "This is the way we do things here," or "This has always been our system" may be satisfying answers to some people. They will not satisfy this individual. He will be disturbed and disturbing until he is given a reason why. If none is to be forthcoming then it is better that he not work in that context. Some religious groups, such as my own Dominican Order, do combine these different models. But the combination is one of tension. We recognize that the tension is there, and we expect our members to tolerate it. We do not expect to be able to resolve it and thus demand that our members pay the price for maintaining the several elements which we see to be of value. There should be no question, however, but that there is a price to be paid. In summary, then, 1 see these models as expressions of personality patterns which do exist in reality. Whatever be the cultural or psychological causes here, experience seems to point out that we can speak of people who live their lives using the service of others, a structured life style, and an intellectual understanding of far-reaching reasons as means for ordering their lives. Furthermore, these patterns are often firm and definite. And, they are incorporated to differing degrees in the makeup of different religious groups. It seems crucial to me that, for everyone's benefit, religious groups should determine their own basic orientation and recruit their members accordingly. NICHOLAS AYO, C.S.C. Variance in the Religious Vows: What Poverty, Why Chaste, Who Obey? [Nicholas Ayo, C.S.C., is a member of the Department of English at the University of Portland ; Portland, Oregon 97203. ] No observer can fail to notice that the religious life under the three vows is undergoing considerable reinterpretation and change. Part of the explanation lies with the sweeping changes revising social and religious institutions throughout the world. What remains in doubt is how far-reaching these reinterpretations have become, and whether they should be viewed substantially as renewal or more as a distortion. The purpose of this essay is not primarily to evaluate the changes in religious life, although to an extent that kind of judgment is inevitable in the very selecting aud ordering of materials, but rather to describe the alternative vow styles that can be observed and to some degree categorized. After the ground has been as accurately mapped as possible, I shall offer some tentative conclusions concerning the progress and direction of the religious life in these days of not only "monasteries without walls," but also "monasteries for sale." In the history of the religious life, the three vows of poverty (goods of the hands and the earth), chastity (goods of body and the heart), and obedience (goods of the mind and the will) are late developments. From the very beginnings of the following of the Gospels in a radical form, there has always been, of course, some kind of interior dedication, if nothing more than a promise made to God alone in one's heart. For those living in comnmnity, a single vow of obedience, or stability, or poverty, or not to tnarry was often considered sufficiently embracive of all the areas of property, family, and discipline required to maintain the well being of a Christian community. What the three vows accomplished did not amount to additional demands upon a total dedication to following the gospel in a radical way, which even the hermit understood welt enough before God, but rather a more explicit determination of a "way of life" that the Church could specify and direct attention to as evangelical by profession and recognized publicly as such by the People of God through their bishops. Poverty Let us look at the three vows separately. Poverty usually is considered first, although apparently for no intrinsic reason. The advantageous effects of poverty depend upon some minimum ownership and use of goods and property. One may retain enough, of course, for life's needs. Destitution distorts poverty. The benefits of poverty, however, were not discovered by Christians. Property of its nature tends to encumber a person, saps his attention, and devours his freedom. The posses-sions- own-you syndro~ne has been with the world a long time. Auyone who owns an expensive yacht, or whatever, may well feel obligated to make use of it, whether 34 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 any longer inclined to or not. Moreover, it takes time, effort, and supervision to maintain an estate, to cultivate, guard, protect, insure, and in all respects properly manage property. Without this effort, the property is sooner or later lost or ruined. The more the wealth, the more the management; and even if managers are hired, the owner has to manage the managers. Property, therefore, unless carefully chosen and curtailed according to one's real needs, easily becomes a burden and actually impedes freedom instead of enhancing it. The pagans knew this, and modern man suspects all too often his convenience machines run him. They must be maintained according to their schedule, not his. Only the man who travels light moves without care. Historically, the ancient monasteries sooner or later acquired great wealth, and contemporary religious orders have amounted to multi-million-dollar operations. Someone has to manage the concerns as well as the property of these institutions. To help preserve the virtue of poverty in those Christians, whether in vows or not, whose task in life demanded the use of the power and goods of the rich, the concept of "stewardship" was evolved. Accordingly, one's labors as manager of millions of dollars were not directed to one's power and prestige, but rather to the commonweal. The steward was merely a servant.whose job was to invest and order goods and services for others. Many. contemporary religious see their vow of poverty in this light. United Air Lines credit cards and new Chevrolets are merely tools, necessary in a modern and affluent world, to get a job done. The heart of th.e religious vowed to poverty ought to remain free of the contamination of wealth, even while he or she has free access to the benefits that only the at least moderately rich enjoy. Poverty of Spirit, a sense of detachment, thus assumes the essence of the vow of poverty. How one uses property, not the quantity and kind of property, becomes the key question. However, from this position, too, a counterinsight arises. The argument goes like this. Granted stewardship is necessary and can be sanctified, it still falls short of the spiritual advantages of actual material poverty. Not everyone need share the poverty of the poor, of course, but those who wish to might vow to do so in an actual and explicit way. Francis of Assisi led a vanguard of those who sold everything, and in sandals alone followed the gospel. In modern times, the carefree poverty of a Francis is difficult to achieve literally - leather sandals can be very expensive. But some groups of religious monks, like the Little Brothers of Charles de Foucauld, do live a simple, inexpensive life, as do their secular monkish counterpart, the sleeping-bag, thumb-riding "hippies" of the 'back-to-the-earth counterculture. This phenomenon demonstrates once more that the advantages of material poverty are not recognized solely by those who follow Jesus Christ alone, although for the believer, identification with the man .of Nazareth, who had nowhere to lay his head, adds a significant core motive. The insight that validates material poverty as such amounts to this. The steward of wealth, while he may well keep his heart unattached, still enjoys the benefits of wealth. He is well cared for and comfortable, and so much the worse for him. Only those who know real want know life in a depth that becomes readily and spontaneously religious. Those who know not where tomorrow's food is coming from have a capacity to appreciate a piece of bread and a cup of cold water as the well-fed can never imagine. The poor know what creaturehood means - to be finite and finally powerless to hold onto one's life and keep everything within one's control. Actually, the rich man does not hold his life securely in his hands either, for accident and microbe strike without distinction of bank account; but the rich Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 35 man can surround himself with apparent defenses, fences, and doctors, who lend him the illusion that he is not finally in fact vulnerable, as the poor man well knows from his own experience. In the living out of actual poverty, virtues such as gratitude for the help of others, heartfelt thanks to God, and sharing alike with others flourish. Faced with helplessness and forced back on basic needs - food, shelter, and friends - it seems far simpler to discover the truth about one's self, that is, one is only a man, naked at birth and destined to dust; masks, poses, the power that corrupts, illusions of bright lights, and life without tragedy, cannot survive the facts. While the rich can hide from the human condition, the poor man knows that to be human is to be vulnerable, even while remaining appreciative, wondering, deeply aware of others, and alive with the radical truth that God alone suffices: "That is why I tell you, don't worry about life, wondering what you are going to eat. And stop bothering about what clothes you will need. Life is much more important than food, and the body more important than clothes. Think of the ravens. They neither sow nor reap, and they have neither store nor barn, but God feeds them. And how much more valuable do you think you are than birds?" (Lk 12:22-5). One further interpretation of poverty deserves mention, because some religious hold to this style, although many point out its fallacy. The position argues that although the group may be wealthy, the individual lives under a spirit of Christian communism - to each according to his need. Needs vary according to status and job, and so does the use of wealth. Actually this p, osition is a variety of the stewardship position, except that it removes the responsibility for management from the individual conscience and invests it in the hierarchical leadership of the group. The individual can thus use any amount of property in peace of conscience provided the group authority has given its approval. The critics of this position, of course, reply that no individual with the vow of poverty can abdicate his responsibility to remain poor, any more than a citizen can automatically wage war simply because his government approves the conflict. Celibacy At first consideration, celibacy seems a necessary concomitant of group living, and group living in a Christian community seems a continuation of the sharing of goods and life outlined in Acts, a sharing which foreshadows the coming of the kingdom. Why groups of families historically have not been able to maintain community living is not easily determined. Through the centuries there have been numerous attempts to do so, from the Brook Farm experiment of our American origins to the communes of 1970, but none have been long lived. Monasteries with single people and strict discipline managed to stay together, but familial groupings have not. No intrinsic reason seems evident to me why Christian community life could not incorporate families, but in practice celibates have a better record of success. The "efficiency model" for the vow of chastity (or celibacy as it might more fairly and accurately be called) emerges from just this insight. For, either it is argued that community life, that is, shared goods and shared inner life, demands celibacy, or even more persuasively it is maintained that a greater freedom for apostolic work becomes available to the single man or woman. Despite the counterarguments of successful and busy married doctors and politicians, it is claimed that a fulltime apostolate often needs a mobility that the person with a family can hardly enjoy without imposing on his family, especially on his children, 36 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 who unlike his wife, did not know in advance what they were getting into. The celibate can work for less money, move locations quickly, and risk his life and health with less fear of the consequences t'o others to whom he is committed and responsible. The input that a generous and inspirational wife might add to a married man's apostolic work is often parried with the negative effects of an unhappy home life in the case of many married "apostles." In short, the argument states that the layman may enlist in the army of Christ, but the celibates will always make up the marines. Besides the "community life" and the "apostolic efficiency" justifications, an appeal for embracing the celibate life may include the "legal status quo." For example, to be a priest, at least today, includes celibacy as part of the package, and when the motivation for the priesthood is high, it can and does override the desire to marry. Actually many men and women remain in celibate vows because by age or inclination they no longer want marriage or children; no't a small number of middle-aged celibates fail to see what overwhelming competition the married state offers the celibate, if children are not a primary consideration. What this reluctance to marry may mean, however, is that many now in celibate vows would have married and raised a family at an earlier age, had the climate of acceptance for such vocational decisions been as good twenty years ago as it is today. Late marriages, of course, will always seem less attractive. If all practical reasons of whatever kind are set aside, whet today might motivate the vow of celibacy? A keen sense of vocation, of being chosen and being called, seems uppermost in many celibate vocational decisions. There is a sense of the mystery behind the destiny of any person, whether to marriage or to single life for the sake of the kingdom: "You have not chosen me, but I have chosen you," and "Everyman who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or land for my sake will receive it all back many times over, and will inherit eternal life" (Mt 19:29). The celibate vocation remains very much on the defensive today. If formerly marriage was considered a second-rate vocation, it is clear that the atmosphere of sexual fulfillment as a necessary ingredient for maturity and personality growth has left the celibate vocation almost in need of a "single's lib" movement. Those who thrive within the celibate vocation seem to have developed a profotind awareness that no man can run the entire gamut of human experience. One life style cancels out another; there are advantages to restraint as well as to delight. Those who are married have a set of pluses and minuses, which while they differ from the pros and the cons of the celibate, may indeed total out to an equivalent sum. Robert Frost's lines "I have chosen the road less travelled by / And it has made all the difference," or Thomas More's apologia in A Man for All Seasons, namely, I choose to believe this because I choose, may finally be the ultimate explanation for a vocation. There is no adequate reason that can be formulated and presented convincingly to any other open-minded person that he should go and do likewise. One is dealing with the kind of radical freedom exercised in choosing a spouse. I marry Susan because I choose Susan, not for any catalog of virtues that would automatically persuade every other reasonable man to marry Susan. Finally, many celibates do experience a discovery in the expanded opportunities for well-developed and often protracted friendships with someone of the opposite sex. Such friendships often enrich their life and yet confirm their vocation to celibacy. The insight that emerges is this. Any deep bisexual friendship demands cultivation, ingenuity, time, effort, emotional energy, imagination, and thoughtful- Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/1 37 ness. One may conclude that there can be only one dominant psychological center in one's life for any length of time; and if a deep cultivated life of prayer and practi

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R.R. mm 46 THE MERCURY. A PHANTASY. CHARI.ES WELSEY WEISER, '01. ; 5 WO spirits floating through the air Leave their mark of passing there. The spirit of the scentless spring, And summer's scented spirit bring Their breath of life and breath of love, And wave ethereal wings above The weary brow. With soothing hand They stir to life the waiting land. The azure sky, the sun and flowers, The bursting bud of woodland bowers, The tender grass, the songsters' strain Compose for life love's sweet refrain Of fellowship. (lI 'Tis evening and the twilight gray Creeps o'er the half-forgotten way, As passing on in pensive mood, Through the ancient hemlock wood, I see beneath the massive trees, Fanned by the evening breeze, A stalwart man reposing lay Beside the lonely grassy way. Tall and brawny, noble., fair, With beaming eyes and wavy hair, He forms a picture good to see— Nature's perfect mastery Commanding all. He speaks—the tones in clarion notes Upward through the branches float. He smiles—and wins with glances bright, Fellowship's most welcome light. "Nature," says he, "perfect, strong, Note and strive for ; and prolong Your days ; and usefulness, and peace, And love, from life shall ne'er cease." I fain would speak, but wake to see 'Tis only a bright phantasy Wrought by Spring-tide on the mind, That seeks in life and love to find The perfect whole. I V* . THE MERCURY 47 "RABBI BEN EZRA." ABDEL R. WENTZ, '04. [Graeff Prize Essay.] ROBERT Browning's Rabbi Ben Ezra is a transcript from the natural experience of a human soul. The struggle between lower and higher ideals has already been fought on the battleground within the soul. The conflict between faith and doubt is over. Faith stands victorious. We have here por-trayed a picture not of action but of a soul in intellectual fer-mentation, the concomitant of action. The poet speaks from emotional imagination in expressing the wish of his soul to be in touch with the infinite. And the passion here described is one that is universal to mankind and one that is deepest and most widely felt in loving human nature. Other poets have attained the same depth of thought, a number have expressed somewhat the same ideas as are here set forth, but probably no poem stands in exactly the same relations as Rabbi Ben Ezra. We propose, therefore, to inquire briefly concerning the Rabbi and his part in the poem, to examine in a general way Brown-ing's philosophy of life as unfolded in the body of his religious poetry, to analyze the thought of this poem and see how the philosophy of life is here set forth, to ascertain what relation the poem sustains to the teachings of Christianity, and to make some observations concerning its rhetorical composition. Abraham ben Meir ben Ezra is the full name of the Rabbi to whom Browning assigns this monologue, but he is more commonly known as Ibn Ezra. Born in Toledo, Spain, about 1088, he started to travel early in life and visited all parts of western and southern Europe and northern Africa. His last days were spent in Rome and here he died in 1167. He was an earnest student of astronomy and won much fame not only as an astronomer but also as an astrologer and physician. In him the Platonic philosophy had an able advocate. Wherever he went he became distinguished for his great learning and his varied accomplishments, but his chief renown seems to have I im 48 THE MERCURY. been as grammarian, biblical commentator, and poet. But great as was the scholarship of the Rabbi, his piety was even greater. From all his writings and from the account of his life we gather that he was a man of extraordinary spiritual rectitude under the complete guidance of the word of God. Such was the man to whom Browning here attributes the philosophy of life. So thoroughly is Ibn Ezra adapted to the expression of such a philosophy and so well do the sentiments here expressed ac-cord with the writings of the Rabbi that the question has been raised whether Browning meant Rabbi Ben Ezra to serve as a statement of his own philosophy or that of Ibn Ezra. There are, indeed, a number of Jewish elements contained in the poem ; as, for instance, the abiding trust in a central righteous-ness. But Browning was specially fond of weaving such ele-ments into the woof of his thought; in fact, in his own nature, both spiritual and intellectual, he was not entirely free from cer-tain Jewish characteristics. Moreover, a great many of his il-lustrations and traditions are taken from among the Jews and no other English poet, with the single exception of Shakespeare, commands for the Jew the same admiration and compassion that Browning does. It seems only reasonable therefore that the poet in presenting his own views concerning life should draw some of his less important ideas from the writings of the Rabbi and thus weave into the poem sufficient coloring to ac-count for the idiosyncrasies of the individual whom he has chosen to give expression to those views. But the strongest proof that Rabbi Ben Ezra expresses Browning's own theory of life, lies in the fact that it is prac-tically a recapitulation of the very sentiments expressed in many of his other poems, as witness Sordello, Abt Vogeler, Saul, The Pope, A Death in the Desert, Reverie, and quite a number of others, all of which develop the same life-philosophy as Rabbi Ben Ezra does. Just as Cicero made use of the venerable Cato as his lay figure in setting forth his views on "Old Age," so Browning has used different personages to develop his philoso-phy, in each case adapting some of the incidentals to the indi- » ■ > THE MERCURY. 49 * * vidual personage. In Jochanan Hakkadosh we have another instance where Browning uses a Jew as his mouthpiece to give utterance to his theory of life. And in the poem under con-sideration he has placed this theory in the mouth of the Rabbi for no other purpose than merely to furnish it with a back-ground; for Browning himself explained of Sordello: "My stress lay on the incidents in the development of a soul; little else is worth study." Being assured then that Rabbi Ben Ezra is merely a restate-ment of Browning's theory of life, it may be well before pro-ceeding to the thought analysis of the poem to try to gain some idea concerning his philosophy of life as developed in the rest of his religious poetry. This philosophy begins in his very first publication, Pauline, where its crude outlines are to be seen; it is more carefully developed and at much greater length in his next production, Paracelsus, and then re-appears from time to time among his productions, and receives its final utterance in his very last poem, Reverie. It is a noteworthy fact that Browning formed this view of lite in his youth, and that no-thing in his life experiences gave him occasion to change it, so that traces and reiterations of it are to be seen in poems cover-ing a period of sixty years of his life. The whole trend of his philosophy might be summarized in the statement that the aspiration towards divine Power and Love is the most exalted ideal for the human soul. The intensity of the universal passion of human love reaching out towards some object which shall satisfy aspiration gives him the conception of God as infinite Love and of the future life as one in which Love incarnate shall have a place. This earthly life is merely a period of probation; man here is in constant pre-paration for another life. Past influences constitute the cri-terion by which to judge of the future, and our development here is determinative of our hereafter, either for growth or de-cay. But in this life we are surrounded by innumerable lim-itations and conditions. All our attainments are bounded by the finite. The divinity at the root of man's nature is too great for the sphere which contains him, arid yet it is this very di-vinity which gives rise to aspiration. Aspiration in turn causes ' ill i. 111 , ,., ,.j,i;iMl8M ■ 50 THE MERCURY. discontent, difficulties, and failures, and these point to infinite success and goodness. Thus we are made to realize the limi-tations and imperfections of our finite existence and to strive ever onward and upward to infinite freedom and perfection. It is precisely this imperfect nature in man which gives him the susceptibility to infinite growth and development; and this is "Man's distinctive mark alone," that which raises him higher in the scale than the brute and places him "a little lower than the angels." Only by our temporal failures are we led to see the possibility of eternal success. Internal dissatisfaction with our attainments on earth induces aspiration towards the divine. Man is "a living personality linked to the principle of restless-ness;" he must recognize his limitations and work within them, never losing sight of the infinite beyond nor ever ceasing to as-pire toward that perfection of freedom. To become content with even the highest attainable per-fection in this earthly life would mean to renounce all noble de-sires and to deny the inner light. This present state must not be regarded as an end in itself and submission to the conditions which it imposes would only result in fatal loss. To fail to recognize our imperfect nature would be to deny the possibility of spiritual growth. No, we must never be satisfied with this earth and its meagre successes; we must never rest content with this stage of imperfection. We must recognize the possi-bility of higher results than any attainable on earth and must aspire to something beyond the limits of time and space. "A man's reach should exceed his grasp, Or what's a heaven for?" It is this very quality—this constant discontent with earthly attainments, this endless aspiration for something higher—that makes life a struggle and the earth a bivouac of strife. Man must be actuated by a constant and conscious impetuosity to-wards the divine, drawing new impulses out of each failure, ever realizing with Tennyson, that, "Men may rise on stepping-stones From their dead selves to higher things." THE MERCURY. Si Each failure should give rise to greater effort and higher aspira-tion. According to Abt Vogeler, the musician accepts the pro-longed pause as an earnest of sweet music, and the discords as an evidence of more highly-prized harmony to follow. The limitations of this life are only suggestions of the infinitude of the life beyond. These. temporal barriers shall become the doors opening to the eternal life of infinite beauty, happiness, knowledge and love. The little mountain rill, as it flows down, has many rough places to cross, many obstacles to encounter, many rocks and precipices to pass, but continually receiving new life from other streams it grows deeper and stronger until at last it becomes a great, deep river, and, undisturbed now by the huge boulders beneath its surface, it flows calmly on to join the peaceful, powerful ocean. So the soul, weak at first and prone to despair, must work within its limitations and by an endless succession of aspirations and failures, each failure stimu-lating stronger endeavor, make its way to God and to the real-ization of perfect Power and Love. Having thus gotten a view of the philosophy of life as Brown-ing held it, we will be better able to follow in analysis the thought of Rabbi Ben Ezra, where this philosophy is stated with greater conciseness, perhaps, than anywhere else in Brown-ing. But -first it must be said, by way of explanation, that Rabbi Ben Ezra is not argumentative in its character; it is merely the statement of facts of positive knowledge. Its view is intuitive and it states conclusions without employing courses of reasoning. We shall not expect, therefore, that the thought of the different stanzas will in every instance be arranged in strict logical sequence. Mellowed with years, the venerable Rabbi gives to the young man the cheerful assurance, " The best is yet to be," and in the quietude of life's evening hour proposes a retrospect of the day and a prospect to the tomorrow. Bidding us to trust in God te reveal His whole plan, he first considers youth. This is a period of hesitation and ambition, of "hopes and fears." All of youth's brief years are passed in doubt and indecision. But for this the Rabbi has no remonstrances, for this very doubt is S2 THE MERCURY. the actuating influence—the "troubling spark"—which distin-guishes us from the brute creation; brutes have their end of living in self-satisfaction, and in the gratification of sense are free from care and doubt. But man's greatest glory and that which attests his affinity with the great Provider lies in his noble desires and lofty aspirations which can never be satisfied on earth; this is the disturbing spark that proves his spiritual nature. We should therefore endure with good cheer the lim-itations that are here placed upon us, and, despite life's difficul-ties and discomforts, ever strive and learn and dare. For the seeming failures of this earthly life simply prove our suscepti-bility to the achievement of eternal success. Our aspiration to the unattainable raises us higher in the scale than the unpro-gressive brute, and he, who hopes to succeed in his flesh and to that end subordinates soul to body, can scarcely deserve the noble name of man. And yet the body is not without its use; all past experi-ences in the flesh serve to teach valuable lessons in this train-ing- school for eternity, and the heart of the Rabbi beats in sin-cere gratitude for the opportunity of living as a man, a part in the one great plan of perfect Power and Love. He trusts him-self implicitly to the will of his Creator and hopes thus to gain the victory over low ideals and ignoble desires. For the soul is prone to yield to its rosy garment of flesh in the desire for rewards commeasurable with bodily endowments and physical attainments. But we should not measure ourselves by the ground gained in spite of flesh; we should realize that while flesh and soul are both subject to limitations here on earth, yet neither is to be despised as all is for the best. Youth must have its struggles and disappointments but old age reaps rich fruit in consequence. For here if is that the complete man is produced and that the tendency to God be-gins. The Rabbi, ripe with age, awaits the fight with death, the only struggle now before him. "Fearless and unperplexed" he contemplates the battle with perfect serenity of soul, for his experiences have taught him what weapons and what armor to employ. Now that his youth is ended he is in a position to L4fc THE MERCURY. 53 pass sentence on that period of life. The fires of'youth have culled out the gold from the dross and the life-struggle can now at length be estimated at its true value. In youth all was un-certainty ; with age comes knowledge absolute. Each sunset brings its certain moment which suddenly calling the glory from the gray announces the death of the day and invites esti-mation of its worth. So the period of old age, tinted with glory and free from the strife of youth, affords the opportunity to prove the past, pronounce judgment on its errors and pro-prieties, and thereby "sustained and soothed" to face the future. And more than this is not possible for man ; his highest duty is to practice tomorrow the lessons of today, to follow intently "the great Artificer of all that moves" and thus catch hints of real handicraft, of true workmanship. Youth is the proper time for growth and aspiration, the proper time to "strive to-ward making," and though the efforts to make be uncouth and seeming failures, nevertheless they are eminently successful in that they secure for old age exemption from strife and the blessed privilege of knowledge. Death can then be awaited without fear. Here the mind is not harassed by arguments of "Doctor and Saint"'as in youth, but the knowledge of the Right and Good and Infinite is as absolute as the knowledge of the possession of one's own hand. Age vindicates youth by defining and separating "great minds from small" and by determining whether the principles of Right were properly ap-plied in youth. Thctruth is revealed and peace of soul secured. But who shall act as judge to pass the sentence? It is no easy task, for men of very similar traits and qualities hold widely different views. Who shall decide? The answer: each man must be his own arbiter; he alone understands the circum-stances of his own life struggle. For life is not to be judged by its deeds and attainments, else others could pass the sentence. "Men appraise the outward product," but this vulgar mass, so easily recognized and valued by the low world, is not the proper standard to use in making up the main account. True, our "work" is pleasing in the eyes of our fellow-men and quickly plumbed and tested by the world's coarse thumb and finger, but 54 THE MERCURY. the true reckoning of man's worth takes into account all our undeveloped instincts tor good, all our unfulfilled purposes. These no one can know but ourselves and these God weighs and considers. He finds value in our thoughts which we were not able to express in a mere act and His records contain even our fleeting fancies :— "All I could never be, All, men ignored in me, This, I was worth to God. whose wheel the pitcher shaped." These lines contain the one great lesson of the poem, the very-theme of its thought, namely, the manifestation of God's love in his dealings with man. Our doubts He overrules for faith; our failures He overrules for success. Our aspirations to the impossible become the essentials of our spiritual growth. It is on the wings of God's love that the spirit of man mounts from earth to heaven. This thought pervades the entire poem. The thought that man is the pitcher shaped by the wheel of God leads to the expanding of that beautiful metaphor of the potter and the clay, and this occupies the concluding verses of the poem. We are invited to examine the metaphor and learn why time passes away so rapidly while our souls lie passive. Hugest folly is the proposition that nothing endures and that the past has no bearing on the present or the future. All that has ever really existed, lasts forever. The wheel indeed may vary as it turns, but potter and clay endure. So life fleets and earth changes, but God and Soul remain forever. We are not mere shadowy existences destined to pass into nothingness; we are eternal realities. But the changing motion of the wheel is needful to give the clay its proper form and make it useful; no less are the buffetings and evanescent influences of this life's dance intended by the all-wise Creator to give our souls their proper bent and temper and fit them for their highest useful-ness. What matters it, so far as the usefulness of the cup is concerned, if the potter in the course of his work ceases to adorn it with the beautiful figures wrought around its base and fashions stern, grim scull-things about the rim? And what I THE MERCURY. 55 matters it if our Maker diminish our pleasures and make this temporal life less attractive? Not in the decorations however beautiful is to be found the proper use of a cup; no more is the highest usefulness of the soul to be found in the pleasures and ornaments of life. Heaven's consummate cup has no need therefore of earth's wheel; his only need is the Potter, to amend the lurking flaws and use His work. The Rabbi declares that never once in the whole dizzy course of his lite with all its im-perfections and failures—never once did he lose sight of his end as a vessel to slake his Maker's thirst. Just as in the opening stanza he expressed his firm assurance of a better life to come, aud his abiding confidence in God's goodness, "Our times are in His hand," so after maintaining this sentiment through the entire poem, he reiterates it once more in his eloquent closing prayer: "So, take and use Thy work : Amend what flaws may lurk, What strain o' the stuff, what warpings past the aim ! My times be in Thy hand! Perfect the cup as planned ! Let age approve of youth, and death complete the same[" These noble sentiments, though expressed by a Jewish Rabbi, are entirely in accord with the teachings of Christianity. An eminent writer on ethics has pronounced Rabbi Ben Ezra to be "one of the completest descriptions of the ethical life in English literature." But it is even more than that; it is a statement of pure theism and a description of sublime religious faith. It abounds in Christian sentiment and contains numer-ous allusions to Scripture of both the Old and New Testament. If Rabbi Ben Ezra were a part ot the Bible, every sentence in the entire poem would long since have been quoted in substan-tiation of some Christian teaching. One of the salient teach-ings of the poem is that of absolute submission to the Divine will. This, one of the great teachings of our New Testament, is forcibly set forth in the poem. Moreover, Christ's mission on earth was to reveal the Father not only as Power but more specifically as Love. In the light of this fact, the sentiment 56 THE MERCURY. which the Rabbi expresses becomes quite striking, especially when he says, "I, who saw power, see now Love perfect too." L^fc, The Christian religion is preeminently a religion of love, and Rabbi Ben Ezra has its very basis on God's love for man. Then, too, Christianity is essentially a romantic religion. Literature furnishes numerous instances of Christian romance. And what can be more romantic than this idea of a future life with earthly hopes and aspirations realized and Love perfected, as developed in the poem ? This hope of future existence gives to the Chris-tian religion the very source of its life. And in Holy-Cross Day we have another instance where Browning represents this same Ben Ezra as a direct advocate of Christ and Christianity. When Rabbi Ben Ezra was first published (1864), the world stood in great need of just such a message of hope and faith as the poem conveys. That was a time when skepticism and des-pondency were rapidly growing. Matthew Arnold was busy promulgating his own unbelief. Fitzgerald had just published his'beautiful translation of Omar Khayyam, and this message o doubt was being very widely read. Epicureanism and sensualism were spreading. To all these Rabbi Ben Ezra was a check. It inculcated cheerfulness and hope, destroying doubt and set-ting up faith preeminent. Some readers of Browning find in him nothing more than what is purely humanitarian and ethical, while others narrow their vision to the romantic and Christian. In reality, Brown-ing includes both. His message is twofold : he treats both the Here and the Hereafter. An so Rabbi Ben Ezta combines the humanitarian and the ethical, on the one hand, with the roman-tic and Christian on the other, and sets forth a lofty type of Christian faith as held by a man of God. In rhetorical composition Rabbi Ben Ezra is typical of Brown-ing's religious poetry. Browning is noted for his great com-prehensiveness of meaning. Few writers have used single words with such great effect. In fact, so great is his conscise- THE MERCURY. 57 ness that he is often charged with being obscure, and the num-ber of his readers is comparatively small because not many peo-ple will take the trouble to disengage the poet's real thought irom the close-plaited web of his expression. Rabbi Ben Ezra is no exception to the rule. True, it is one of the most widely known of Browning's poems and has been considered one of the easiest, but its apparent simplicity disappears before any serious effort to drain it of its meaning. The poet thinks at lightning speed and records his thoughts as they occur to him, and nothing short of an alert mind and an open spirit will suf-fice to draw from the poem its full meaning. It is recondite almost to the extreme, in places even bordering on the verge of solecism. And yet it is only natural that such" sublime, weighty thought should receive striking expression. Every sentence is pregnant with vigorous meaning. And while the poem shows in its structure no regard whatever for symmetry or proportion and no view to clearness, beauty, or nobleness of form, yet it presents the greatest consistency of teaching from first to last. This poem will be read as long as the human race endures, because it has to do with a passion that is common to all man-kind. It deals with man's growth to the infinite in a spirit of the most healthful optimism, and inspires men everywhere to high and noble thinking. Browning himself gives an estimate of the loftiness of the theme when he says in a letter to a friend: "It is a great thing—the greatest—that a human being should have passed the probation of life, and sum up its experi-ence in a witness to the power and love of God." What Long-fellow contributes to literature in his "Psalm of Life," what Ten-nyson contributes in his "In Memoriam"-—this and more Brown-ing epitomizes in his Rabbi Ben Ezra. And the late Professor Everett of Harvard pronounces it "one of the most exalted of the poems of Browning * * * * one of the most exalted in the whole range of literature." 5« THE MERCURY. RUSSIAN AGGRESSION. [Second Prize in the Inter-Collegiate Oratorical Contest] W. W. BARKXEY, '04. PASSING events in the Far East draw the eyes of the world once more toward those parts which have engaged more or less constant attention for many years. The Asiatic question with its many difficulties and complications presents the unsolved international problem of the twentieth century. How shall the equilibrium of the East and the- integrity of China be maintained? How shall the commercial powers of the world preserve the equality of trading privileges along China's inviting coast? How shall the threatening advance of Russia upon Asia be checked? Shall Anglo-Saxon civiliza-tion or the civilization of the Muscovite stamp itself upon east-ern peoples ? The last two inquiries are primary and essential, it will be admitted, in dealing with the first two. Statesmen prophets have prophesied, but struggle is no longer a thing of the future. The foretold contest is on. and it is critical. Potent energies are now at work in the Orient. Asia is evidently un-dergoing transition. Pressing circumstances must soon force a solution of the grave problem of the East and provide answers to our questions. While grim-visaged war is raging between the little island empire of the Pacific and that gigantic nation of the north, it will not be untimely to follow the course of that ceaseless, un-tiring advance which has brought Russia all the way across the Eurasian continent from St. Petersburg to Vladivostok and Port Arthur. The declaration of open hostilities between these two con-flicting nations was no surprise, but rather was expected. War was inevitable in the face of Russian aggression and dogged-ness. The current strife is only one of a series of events which have been shaping themselves for years, yes for centuries, in the history of Russia. It is the natural, logical outcome of a policy of greed and grasp which has been at the bottom of THE MERCURY. 59 every national move which Russia has made since the days of her first note-worthy monarch, "Ivan the Terrible." The real cause of the war waging today can be clearly traced to this governing policy. Insatiate Russia is not satisfied with her tight grip on Manchuria which she now practically owns and controls, but looks with a covetous eye on the independent but small empire of Korea over which Japanese influence should justly extend. In fact it was reported, previous to the outbreak with Japan, that she already had obtained large interests in the important timber regions of the Yalu Valley, and that her rep-resentative stood over the weak and pliable Emperor at Seoul with almost dictatorial power. Such is her impudence and boldness. Will Russia recede from the prominent position she has taken in northeastern China ? Never, voluntarily ! She may make clever pretensions and employ shrewd diplomatic schemes, as is her custom, but she will never withdraw from an acquisi-tion which has been the object of her ambition for three cen-turies and more, until Japan or some other power drives her back into the north from whence she came. And then she will not remain there; onward, advance, conquer and expand have been the watchwords of this aggressor of nations since the close of the Middle Ages when the terrible autocrat of the six-teenth century assumed the ambitious title of Czar and began to push the lines of his government out in all directions. When Ivan came to the throne Russia was "a semi-savage, semi-Asiatic power, so hemmed in by barbarian lands and hos-tile races as to be almost entirely cut off from intercourse with the civilized world." Since then her growth in territory and power has been marvelous and amazing. From the compara-tively small and insignificant state in Central Europe, she has gradually extended her boundaries until now she dominates about one-half of the land area of Eurasia. The Tartars were attacked and driven beyond the Ural river, and thus the entire Volga and Caspian regions were acquired. An advance was started toward the Ural mountains and the Euxine. Under the powerful and energetic despot, Petet the Qreat, the Black and Baltic sea regions were both gained; Siberia was explored and 6o THE MERCURY. conquered from the Ural mountains to Kamtschatka, and afterwards colonized; far-reaching reforms were brought about, and Russia was lifted to a place among the first-class powers of Europe. Today her dominion extends from the borders of Per-sia, Afghanistan, and India on the south to Sweden and the Arctic ocean on the north ; and from the Chinese Empire and the Pacific on the east to Germany and Austria-Hungary on the west. What giant strides she has taken in territorial devel-opment ! What a magnificent stretch of country she has been able to consolidate into one sovereign State! No other nation in the history of the world has been able to secure such abso-lute control over so large an empire and that in the compara-tively short period of four centuries. Russia's advance is steady and never ceases. Her policy is well-outlined and the goal of her ambition is clearly defined., Her real governing purpose may be deduced from her actions. Russia needs some warm water harbors on the Pacific. She proposes first to secure, if possible, these advantageous outlets without which she can never develop her almost limitless na-tural resources. Secondly, Russia evidently aims to become the arbiter and controller of the East; and, therefore, she en-deavors to stamp her order of civilization on Asia, and obtain for herself the preponderance of power in the Far East. Back of these exalted aims and ambitions is a thorough conviction among her people that the day of Russian supremacy is near at hand. "Her students everywhere claim that the world had bee?i under the Romance type of civilization and that gave way in time to the Anglo- Teutonic type under which the world is now developing and this is about to give way to Slavonic civilization to which the future belongs." Surely, if written history and current actions count for anything in judging a nation, no other than these stupenduous designs and hopes, we have briefly stated, are the basis of her aggressive spirit. Surely no other than these form the main-spring of Russia's late historical movements. Russia's political,-.commercial and industrial interests demand a more extensive seacoast, and more and better harbors. Tur-r_* r THE MERCURY. 61 key and the Powers control the Bosphorus and deny her ingress to Mediterranean waters. The Baltic is ice-bound part of the year and that seriously hinders navigation there. Port Arthur and Vladivostok also present serious obstacles to successful commerce. Where shall Russia turn, if not southward along China's coast and toward the Persian gulf, in which directions the high wave of her influence and sovereignty has been roll-ing, now slowly, now rapidly, but ever rolling for almost four hundred years ? What does the construction of her great trans-Siberian railroad mean, which now stretches across an en-tire continent, if not easier access to the Pacific ? What does a similar trunk line mean, which is now being planned to extend from the Baltic to the Arabian sea, if not a freer outlet to the world's waters ? What does her sly seizure of Manchuria, her pretended foothold on Korea, signify ? What does a war with Japan signify, if not a fixed determination to extend her power along the Chinese seaboard and gain possession of China's warm water harbors? Russia aspires to be a great sea power, but as yet she is comparatively weak along that line, as was evinced too plainly by her recent defeats at the hands of Japanese sea-warriors. In order to be prepared in time of war she must have a stronger navy, and safer inlets to harbor it. That she may develop her boundless natural resources properly, both in Europe and Siberia, and thereby increase her wealth, she must be given an opportunity to open up her industries and enlarge her trade. To hold and maintain her place among the nations, she must establish herself on the sea. Russia's prophet states-men are shrewd and wide-awake to these facts. They look far ahead, see in Russia the nation of the future, and may be ex-pected to plan their every action in accordance with their in-tense ambition to make her glorious and paramount. There is no more room for doubt. The spread of Slavonic domination in Asia is truly alarming. No observer who has followed the course of current affairs in the East will have failed to notice that glacier-like movement of Russian power over Chinese territory. England sees it; Japan resents it. It is too evident, notwithstanding her cunning diplomacy, her insincere 62 THE MERCURY. promises and agreements, and her round-about manoeuvers at times, that Russia means to retain every foot of ground she possesses and that she will never cease to advance until she has conquered and absorbed and assimilated the whole of the Chi-nese Empire, Persia, and Afghanistan; stands triumphant on the summits of the lofty Himalyas, and looks with a threaten-ing eye down upon the rich and splendid empire of India, un-less, perchance, the Anglo-Saxon shall not delay longer, but come forth to contest such wholesale occupation of Asia. Some years ago, when it was proposed to retreat from the mouth of the Amur river, Emperor Nicholas said, "Where Russia's flag is carried once, there it shall remain forever." That shows the spirit of the nation. Russia is active; Russia is greedy; Rus-sia is strong and persistent. Give her the chance she seeks to relieve her latent energies and develop her dormant resources, and she will become the most influential, the wealthiest of world powers. Give her the opportunity she covets and she will scatter broadcast over the Orient her despotic principles of autocracy with its brutality, ignorance, and oppression; force her Greek Catholicism with its error and intolerance upon the unfortunate subjects of her conquest, and carry with her a spirit of exclusiveness and selfishness deadly to the advance of pure Christian civilization everywhere ig the world. Give her the right of way and she will attain the strategic points she desires and crush out of existence the Anglo-Saxon order of civiliza-tion, which means constitutional government, the Protestant religion, liberty, equality, and education characteristic of all Anglo Saxon peoples. Stand aside, and Holy Russia will rule the world. But will the rest of the world stand aside, passive and indif ferent, and let the great Czar forward his schemes of encroach-ment and aggrandizement unhindered? Japan says No! Japan acts promptly and firmly, and all hail! to the bravp little nation who with courage stout and strong goes out to battle with this giant aggressor of the north. We admit her claims be-cause we know they are just; we glory in her victories because we know she is right; deservedly do we give her our sympathies THE MERCURY. 63 because she has put herself in line with twentieth century progress and civilization and with dignity faces an avaricious foe still moved by the customs and principles of the sixteenth century. But can she stand against such might in the ultimate contest ? Can Japan alone hold Russia in check and stop the perilous ad-vance ? It is not to be expected. If not, what will England do, England who has check-mated Russia so often in Europe, and who now has such vast commercial interests on the coast and in the heart of China, and stands guardian over such a mighty empire as India, will she allow China to be Russianized and India to be menaced ? It would seem that the final struggle must be between Russia and England. Two great orders of modern civilization have met and are ready to clash, yes they have clashed, for Japan's prototype is England, and her civil-ization is Anglo-Saxon. On the one hand, Russia, who be-lieves thoroughly that the future lies with the Slav. On the other hand, the English-speaking nations, who contend that the future rests with the Anglo-Saxon. Both stand ready to fight, if need be, for the world's supremacy. One is a supremacy of personal absolutism and oppression; the other, a supremacy of democracy with its liberty and justice. Which shall it be? Should the struggle come now, Russia would likely be crushed ;• later, after she has had time to grow and strengthen to her full proportions, who shall prophesy the end and declare which shall rule the world, Anglo-Saxon or Slav ? THE PASSION FOR SCHOLARSHIP. PROF. OSCAR G. KXINGER. THE mental attitude of a man towards his vocation is all important. Tell me this and I will tell you the degree of success which he has won or will win. Where there is a lively interest there will be also the enthusiasm and tireless energy so necessary to the perfect performance of a task. A lackadaisical spirit defeats any enterprize. The captains of in- 64 THE MERCURY. dustry have always been men with a genius for hard work. The same is true of those who have won eminence in any of the learned professions. They have mounted high because they have been in love with their vocation. To the student who aims at some notable achievement in the domain of knowledge, an absorbing passion for scholarship is the first essential. By such a passion, I mean an insatiable desire to know the truth of things at first hand. Others may be satisfied to take their information on faith. He must get at the heart of reality ; he must know things in themselves and in their relations; and to attain this he must be willing to sacrifice everything— "To scorn delights and live laborious days." Unless this passion dominate him there will be lacking the fire and enthusiasm which are necessary to prolonged effort. To think is the most difficult task a man can ever set himself. It means absorption, critical acumen, a nice balancing of facts and unerring inference; in a word, it means the analysis of a fact or truth to its ultimates and a synthesis of these ultimates into a positive thought. The process prolonged wears out the brain and exhausts the nerves. To keep it up until the end demands a will which is animated by a passion for knowledge as burning as the desire to live. Then and then only can the mind come to its full stature and utter truth which men must hear whether they will or not. This longing to know is often inborn, but may be acquired in some degree by even the dullest. The main trouble with the latter sort of student is that his mind has never been a-wakened. About his intellect a dense haze has gathered and he cannot see his way nor does he know precisely where he is. A dull ambition stirs in his heart but he cannot discover its meaning. Intelligent study is to him unknown. He tries to go through his tasks but what he gets means little to him. Often it happens that young men of naturally capable minds almost finish their course before they acquire the mental aware-ness which is the first condition of successful study. When THE MERCURY. 65 they do wake up their progress is phenomenal. Perhaps therefore, the highest function of the teacher is to awaken mind and by his helpfulness keep it awake. ' No higher reward can come to him than the consciousness that he has set one intel-lect on fire with the passion to know. Before this is possible, however, a serious obstacle must be removed. It is a motion wellnigh unusual among students and grows out of a mistaken conception of education. The student finds the college equipped with a faculty of men more or less learned who are to be his teachers in the various subjects which the curriculum offers. He expects them to set him tasks for each day's performance. In the recitations they question him on the lessons and make the necessary explanations or pffer additional information. Consequently the idea is general and perhaps inevitable that the professors educate the pupil. How-ever natural, this notion is pernicious and works incalculable harm. In the sense that the teacher acts as guide and makes easier the road to intellectual development, it is true that he is an educator ; in any other sense it is misleading. The men-tal development zvhich any man gets is always the lesult of his own specific effort. A teacher helps, stimulates, guides, "but achieves nothing without the earnest response of the pupil.' This erroneous view is largely responsible for a wrong use of the textbook. The student imagines that doing his task-work in memoriter fashion is genuine study. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Even a parrot is capable of such exercise of memory and the world has no use for human "Pollys!" A memory stored with knowledge is a great boon, but will not go far in promoting a' man's interests. Some of the greatest failures have been walking encyclopedias of facts and theories. A bookworm always has a hard time to find enough to eat. The world demands men who can think and plan and execute,—practical men who can use their knowledge to meet and solve the intricate problems of business and poli-tics. "What new truth have you to offer?" is the question asked of every graduate and on his answer depends his sta-tion. A well written article which reproduces only the •ii% 66 THE MERCURY. thoughts of other men finds its way into the editor's waste bas-ket or into the pages of the cheapest magazine. The pulpit ■which is no longer a teaching platform will face empty pews. The "dead-line" in any profession is drawn where invention dies; years have nothing to do with it. The man who keeps pace with progress and is able to interpret to others the heart of the movement will never want a hearing. Such a man is never the product of a mere textbook. For a text in any sub ject is the resume of one man's interpretation of a body of facts. Its value depends wholly on the authority of its author. At best it is only an outline. Any student, therefore, who ac-cepts the teaching without examining the facts and bringing the theory to the test of facts, is doing two things—-depriving himself of the pleasure which comes with reasoned conviction, and missing the power which such additional research confers. Either is a great mistake. The worship of the textbook induces another grievous habit which when acquired blights original work in a literary way. When a theme has been adopted as the subject of an essay the student at once searches through the library for material which when found constitutes the subject matter of his essay. Of testing, of meditation, there is little or 'none. What he says is not what the subject means to him but to another. He is like a phonograph endowed with the power of changing the form of expression without altering the thought. It were well if the saying of Isocrates were written in letters of light above every alcove: "What has been said by one is not of equal value to him who repeats it; but he seems to be the most skillful who finds in a subject topics which have escaped the notice of others." Here is the truth in a nut-shell. Let a young man determine at the outset that he will not repeat what has once been uttered except as a quotation, but will give to the world his own thought tested and tried by an appeal to things, and what he has to say on any subject will command the attention of men. Servile devotion to the textbook; re-producing the thought of others; failure to experience the truth that is presented; these are the fatal rocks on which THE MERCURY. 67 many a promising career has been wrecked. There is, too, an ethical aspect of the case which must not be overlooked. No one has the moral right to ask another to spend time in read-ing or hearing what to him is old. Truth which concerns man is so illimitable in every direction and our knowledge of it so infinitesimal that he who repeats what is common to all is guilty of a grave wrong to his reader or hearer. This passion to know fully and at first hand, if it could be-come the dominant element in the college atmosphere, would transform college life. It would quickly bring men face to face with the mystery of things and take away the indolence, the trifling, the present tendency to follow the line of least resis-tance. The four years of effort would produce scholars whom the world would welcome and of whom the college could be proud. The spirit of the scholar can be acquired and cultivated and its possession means success, as its absence means failure, in all that is highest in life. COURTESY TO STRANGERS. H. S. DORNBERGKR, '06. A stranger,'no matter where he goes, is bound to receive a certain amount of courtesy. I will attempt to show in this essay that this amount of courtesy is increasing rather than decreasing. During all ages and especially the feudal age, every stranger was sure of receiving food and shelter if he stopped at any house or castle. This was due chiefly to the fact that hotels were not very common until our own age, nor did every village or hamlet have its hotel or inn as is now the case. Then as there were no newspapers until quite recently, a stranger was also received for the news he might bring. It might also be added that the number of travelers at that time cannot be com-pared with the number of the present time. At present this hospitality to strangers is not nearly so evi- '• J Uii. 68 THE MERCURY. dent as it was in former times. The chief cause of this is our modern hotel system. Everywhere one goes he will find some kind of a hotel, no matter what be the size of the place. It may also be stated here that travelers, in most cases, would much rather pay their hotel bills than trouble some one else with entertaining them during their sojourn in the locality. Even among friends one sees this. Very often a friend will come to your vicinity and, rather than bother you, will go to a hotel. Now let us consider whether a stranger would be welcomed did he ask for our hospitality. The ordinary beggar will serve as a good example of this. It is very difficult, indeed, for one to find a home where a beggar will not receive a good meal if he goes and asks for it. Who is so cold hearted that he would refuse anyone shelter from the'cold in winter or the rain in summer? Who would not offer his bed to a sick or wounded person at his door and strive to comfort the unfortu-nate being? In some countries a stranger was always regarded as an enemy unless he could prove himself a friend. In some in-stances it even went so far as to cause the person's death, could he not do this. As we come to more modern times this feel-ing of hostility toward strangers gradually diminished until it has passed entirely out of existence, except among semi-civi-lized peoples. Another example of the growth of courtesy toward strangers is the downfall of absolute monarchism and the rise of more democratic forms of government. This last example may be regarded as not exactly on the subject by some but as it con-sists of the regard of man for man, in my opinion it is after all nothing but courtesy. A still better example is the increase of the value of human life. At the dawn of history the life of a man was held less sacred than a mere dog's life is today. This brings up still another point. In former ages, capital punishment was the mode of exacting justice. Since that time the inflicting of capital punishment has been gradually modi- THE MERCURY. 69 fied from unspeakable tortures to the entire abandonment of this form of justice except in some few cases. The modern rules of etiquette require us to be courteous to strangers. We exert ourselves in every way to please them and try our best to make them feel at home. We even go so far as to deny ourselves comforts for their pleasure. We do not allow them to spend their money. We introduce them to our friends who try to outdo us in their courtesy toward these strangers. Take for example the visit of a noted person to a city or town. Arrangements for his reception are begun al-most as soon as the the news of his intended visit becomes known. Banquets and receptions are given in his honor. He is met at the railroad station by a committee and escorted to his stopping-place. He is cheered by the crowds that gather merely to get a glimpse of him. I believe that courtesy toward strangers is increasing rather than decreasing for we of the present day are just as hospitable toward strangers as were our brethern of former times; and I believe therefore that as the world becomes more civilized, mankind will become more courteous. da I In an up-to-datest tailor-made gown,U-pi-de-i-da The boys arc wild, and prex is, too, You never saw such a hulla-ba-loo. CHORUS. — U-pi-dee-i-dee-i-da 1 etc. Her voice is clear as a soaring lark's, And her wit Is like those trolley-car sparks I When 'cross a muddy street she flits. The boys all have conniption fits I The turn of her head turns all ours, too. There's always a strife to sit in her pew; 'Tis enough to make a parson drunk, To hear her sing old co-ca-che-lunk! The above, and three other NEW verses to U-PI-DEIi, '.'. and NEW WORDS, catchy, up-to-date, to manv fp others of the popular OLD FAMILIAR TUNES; be- ■■ ' JfflHf sides OLD FAVORITES ; and also many NEW SONGS. J*W uull S0NGS OF ALL THE COLLEGES. JjWJ Copyright, Pricei $rjo, postpaid. fa mm if IJLU HINDS & NOBLE, Publishers, New York City. ^ ft ft Schoolbooks of all publishers at one store. ff1' ■> Rupp Building, YORK, PENN'A. Watch for his Representative when he visits the College PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. Geo. E. Sparkler, PIANOS, ORGANS, MUSICAL MERCHANDISE MusiC Rooms, - York St. Telephone 181 GETTYSBURG C. B. KITZMILLE,R. DEALER IN HATS, CAPS, BOOTS AND DOUGLAS SHOE.S. McKnight Building, Baltimore St. Gettysburg, Pa. k M. AMrEMAN, Manufacturer's Agent and Jobber of Hardware, Oils, paints and (jueensware Gettysburg, Pa. THE ONLY JOBBING HOUSE IN ADAMS COUNTY W.F.Odori, ^DEALER IN^k- SPECIAL RATES TO CLUBS. mm* York Street, Gettysburg:, Pa. 1

mvm**i&*i***mmt0i**Vi*Mmm0ki&t*0kfm ' HOYEMBER, 1906 YOL. XIY. NO. 6 GETTYSBURG COLLEGE GETTYSBURG, PA. I PBK8S OF W. B. HAMMOND. /' illt/litft l^liliMAMituui HELP THOSE WHO HELP US. I f i The Intercollegiate Bureau or Academic Costume. Cotrell & Leonard, ALBANY, N. Y. Makers of Caps and Gowns To Gettysburg College, Lafayette, Lehigh, Dickinson, State College, Univ. of Pennsylvania, Harvard,.Yale, Princeton, Wellesley, Bryn Mawr and the others. Class Contracts a Specialty. Correct Hoods for Degrees. WHY NOT GET A POSITION NOW! The sooner the young graduate finds the right opportunity the bet-ter his chances for success. We offer the best means of bringing your ability to the attention of employers in all parts of the country. Are you familiar with our successful methods? We will gladly give you without charge full information concerning desirable posi-tions that will be open in the early summer and fall for capable College, University and Technical School graduates. Better not delay about/writing us for we are al-ready placing many 1906 men. The National Organization ot HI^-PG-OOIDS, Brain Brokers. ZFezirLsyl-v-a-iiia, BldLgr., I'lj.ilad.elpli.ia,, Pa. Offices in Twelve Other Cities. Come and Have a Good Shave,., or HAIR-CUT at Harry B. Seta's BARBER SHOP 35 Baltimore St. BARBERS' SUPPLIES A SPECIALTY. Also, choice line of fine Cigars. R. A. WONDERS Corner Cigar Parlors. A full line of Cigars, Tobacco, Pipes, etc. Scott's Corner, opp. Eagle Hotel GETTYSBURG, PA. Pool Parlors in Connection. IF YOU CALL ON C. fl. Bloeher, Jeuuelet*, Centfe Sqaaire, He can serve you in anything you may want in REPAIRING or JEWELRY. WE RECOMMEND THESE FIRMS. Established 1887 by Allen Walton Allen K. Walton, Pres. and Treas. Robt. J. Walton, Superintendent. Hummelstown Brown Stone Company Q-cr.A-:E?,:Ei-2-:Lvd::Ei3sr and Manufacturers of BUILDING STONE, SAWED FLAGGING, and TILE, fALTONVILLE. =•;. PENNA. Contractors for all kinds of cut stone work. 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Prices always right The Lutheran paWication^ocieiJ No. 1424 Arch Street PHILADELPHIA, PA. Acknowledged Headquarters for anything and everything in the way of Books for Churches, Col-leges, Families and Schools, and literature for Sunday Schools. PLEASE REMEMBER That by sending your orders to us you help build up and devel- • op one of the church institutions with pecuniary advantage to yourself. Address ■ HENRY. S. BONER, Supt. The CDerea^y. The Literary Journal of Gettysburg College. VOL. XIV. GETTYSBURG, PA., NOVEMBER 1906. No. 6 CONTENTS "THE POWER OF SMALL THINGS "—Oration. . . 152 ELSIE A. GERLACH, '07. "POE: WIZARD OR CHARLATAN "—Essay. . 155 W. WlSSLER HACKMAN, '08. "THE TRAGEDY OF A SOUL"—Oration. . . . 158 CLIFFORD E. HAYS, '07. "TIME—ITS DEMANDS AND GIFTS "—Oration. . . 164 SARA B. BRUMBAUGH, '07. " CONSCIENCE AND SUPERSTITION ''—Essay. . . 167 D. L. BAKER, '08. "CO-OPERATIVE COLLEGE GOVERNMENT "—Essay. 169 '08. "THE STUDENT AND COLLEGE "—A LIFE LONG RELA-TION— Essay . .171 ROY E. SMITH, '08. "A TOURNAMENT "—Story. 172 LEVERING TYSON, '09. EDITORIALS, . 176 EXCHANGES, 179 152 THE MERCURY. THE POWER OF SMALL THINGS. ELSIE A. GBRLACH, '07. EVER since Cartier discovered the St. Lawrence civilized people have stood in awe before the grandeur of the mighty flood of Niagara Falls. They have thought and talked and written about its tremendous power, its majesty and grand beauty; but no one ever considered its source, or thought of it in its parts. It was always thought of as one grand whole, until suddenly the world was startled by the fact that the beau-tiful Niagara was threatened. Then it was that the beauty loving Americans realized that out of small things great things grow, when they saw that the use of the great mass of water, little by little for supplying the manufacturing establishments, would steal away the greatness of the world's greatest falls. You all know the result of the awakening, that popular opinion prevailed and Niagara was saved from a gross sacrifice to mercenary motives. I have used the illustration only to show how often we forget the importance of little things. It is a world old subject, this fact of small beginnings. We know that the mighty avalanche, sweeping everything before it and burying whole towns with its millions of tons of snow, is made up of the feathery flakes. We know, in fact, that the entire universe, in all its immensity, is composed of atoms; yet do we realize the significance of the small things in nature. History speaks plainly of the power of little things. The importation of the first slaves into America may have seemed a thing of trifling moment; yet the war of the rebellion grew out of it. Again, it was but a small band of Pilgrims that landed at Plymouth Rock; yet their coming was the begin-ning of the career of the grandest nation of the world. The world of finance in the great Hippel embezzlement pre-sents a striking illustration of the principle we are considering. Do you think that when the respected banker stole seven million dollars, it was his first offence? Of course not. If all the facts were known his crime could be traced back along a line of ever lessening thefts, perhaps even to the small sum of a few dollars borrowed, but never returned to the bank. Mr THE MERCURY. 153 His first theft, whatever it was, may have seemed a trifling thing. But what a result! For an example in politics take the system of graft, recently uncovered in Philadelphia. No doubt the grafters were timid at first, and took but little from the public funds ; but they kept growing bolder until the enormity of their crimes could no longer be-concealed. We can see the value of a trifle in every day life. The true story, told of the man on the tower, goes to prove this fact. He was a common day-laborer and was assisting in the com-pletion of an immense chimney on a large factory. He was working on the farther side from the others, and did not notice that they had all finished and descended, and that the scaffold-ing was removed. In a very short time, however, his absence was noticed, and a large crowd gathered below, filled with horror at the thought of the awful death which stared him in the face, for the only possible way to reach him was by scaf-folding, which it would take weeks to build. But suddenly the crowd was quiet as the wife of the man, suspended between heaven and earth, appeared. She had evidently heard, for she was very pale, but calm. Putting her hands to her mouth she shouted, " Unravel your stocking." A cheer burst from the crowd, as they grasped at this feeble hope of rescue. Before long a thin grey thread was lowered, and to this they tied a cord. The yarn was homespun and it carried the cord in safety to the waiting man. The cord in turn drew up a rope and the rope a cable, by which the man descended. Practical application of the subject can be made in every phase of life. To be happy we must be careful of the little things in our home life. To be successful the business man applies the old adage, " Take care of the pennies and the dollars will take care of themselves." To become a college graduate, worthy of the name, the ambitious student must weigh the little things. It is a small thing to prepare a debate or read-ing for the literary society, or an essay for our monthly journal. It may not seem so at the time when you think you can't pos-sibly spare even an hour or so. But it is a small thing when compared to the benefit received from regular literary work: 154 THE MERCURY. first, of course, the benefit gained in preparation, then the power to think on your feet and to accustom yourself to hearing your voice in public speaking. The time given to athletics does not cost much, considering the benefit received. A short time spent in exercising every day helps to bring about the relation of "Sana metis in corpore sano." And it isn't much trouble to really study the lessons assigned. It takes only two hours to prepare a Latin or Greek lesson. To be sure the easier way, by means of " helps," sometimes seems almost pardonable when there is work to be made up on account of sickness, or when import-ant outside work demands the time. But this habit of shirk-ing grows so easily that it must be avoided or the college edu-cation will prove a failure. The seeming trifles at college are very numerous. But these few examples will serve to illustrate their value. The power of small things is strongly brought out by Longfellow in the words: . " Nothing useless is or low ; Each thing in its place is best; And what seems but idle show Strengthens and supports the rest." Oh, but how great a thing it is, how glad, To live in this our day ! when plain strong sense, Free knowledge and Religious influence, Build up a wall against the false and bad, And give the good both temple and defense : To live—when ancient enmities intense Turn to new brotherhood till now unknown ; When science and invention bless the world, Banishing half our pains and troubles hence ; When time seems lengthened, distance nearer grown ; When tyranny from every throne is hurled ; When Right is Might, and Reason holds her own : O, happy day ! fur prophets, priests and kings Have longed in vain to see such glorious things. —Tupper. THE MERCURY. 155 POE: WIZARD OR CHARLATAN? W. WISSLER HACKMAN. I. INTRODUCTION. THE ENIGMA. IN these papers it is not our purpose to rehash any biography of Poe, and such points of his life as may come up in these discussions will do so because they are, in our opinion, essen-tial in throwing light upon the problem in hand. That Poe's heredity, environment and temperament do as much toward heightening as toward solving the mystery that surrounds his literary attitudes and motives may not be denied, much less ignored. Brilliant, versatile, volatile; Byronic in egotism, Pickwickian in fantastic fancy, a Stevenson in action and a Uoyle in plot, he presents an enigma among American authors; an enigma that invites even while it defies investigation. Sensitive, proud and weak ; yes, almost despicably weak he stands the most tragic figure in the realm of American letters ; a tragic success ; a most brilliant failure. A graphic portraitist, a skillful manipulator of plot and atmosphere, a poet surcharged with a shadowy mysticism, a philosopher and scientist in amateur, possessed of an un-bridled daring of conception, a critic, dreamer and prophet— what is he not? Candid and unshrouded he sets himself be-fore us ; frankly and unhesitatingly he draws aside the mantle of his personality and uncloses to vulgar gaze the very wheels and cogs of his literary machinery. And yet, andyet— he is too like the famous chess player he so skillfully exploits, wheels and cogs and cunning mirrors casting deceptive re-cesses, and within, the man, whom none see, smiling derisively on the easy credulity of his admirers. That is just the ques-tion, that the crux of the entire matter of Poe, the genuine-ness of his attitudes. Let sincerity be the touchstone to the man. Is he a great soul struggling through an imperfect me-dium toward revelation, has his genius labored out of the in-tangible depths some magic philosophers stone whereby to convert the dross of earth into the divine gold of ideality ? Again, dare we accept his own implied claim, and treat him as 11 ■ 156 THE MERCURY. the clear-eyed discoverer of a profound unity of all substance and energy, or is he a mere mechanic who frames soul-stirring verse on an arithmetical basis making poetry a matter of mathematical proportions? Or after all is he a base juggler or at lea.st a clever trickster ? Is he king or impostor, prophet or pretender, wizard or charlatan ? Have you never felt the uncomfortable impression intrude itself through the charming plausibility of his philosophy, the eerie beauty of his verse, or the creeping horror of his tales that at your shoulder, as it were, stood Poe, his sensitive lips curled in proud scorn while about them played a smile of mockery and derision almost mephistophelian ? Take his por-trait, search his features carefully—do you not find an in-tangible contempt lurking there? Is it for you or for a stiff-necked, hard-headed people who will be sordid and material-istic ? Take his lighter stuff—plainly you can feel the under-current of banter, whether innocent or malevolent, I dare not yet say. That Poe's was an analytical intellect of the highest type must be conceded, for that he is capable of a keenness of in-sight abnormally acute, we have proof in his own exploits. The unravelling of the "Murders of the Rue Morgue" and the death of " Marie Roget" under circumstances that would have daunted the most optimistic of sleuths are evidences that go far toward establishing Poe's integrity. Had he been on or even near the scenes of these tragedies, for they were real, we might attribute his success to some fortunate discovery, some hidden inkling. But removed as he was from the pos-sible presence of data, his only aids newspaper clippings col-lected by himself, we must admit that success was—in fact could only be—due to the reasoning of a powerful intellect. Whatever Poe is, he is no shallow montebank ; if he resorts to dishonest trickery, it is not because he is incapable of higher things. Yet he does juggle, yet he does descend to the plane of monte-bank. How the same hand that projected " Eureka," that marvelous prose-poem, could perpetuate such worthless, school boy click-clack as abounds in the life of Thingum Bob, seems, - —--'-—- * w THE MERCURY. 157 to say the least, remarkable. It is just this apparent incon-sistency— it does not merit the term versatility—that makes Poe the enigma he is. The fabric of his literary work pre-sents a strange mosaic of pearls and tawdry brass side by side and intermingled in a strange, disconcerting confusion. Thus far we have dealt in generalities ; generalities of, I fear, a vague and dissatisfactory haziness. It has been our aim in this paper to, in a general manner, outline our intended method of procedure. The * following papers will be written with the author's text close to our elbow with a view of being read in like manner. Now in the conclusion of our introduction let us advance one tenet of our literary faith, to wit: Sincerity should be the guide and touchstone in all literary criticism. Much as we dislike the imputation of egotism we shall fear-lessly work out our conclusions independent of popular senti-ment or accepted views on this particular phase of Poe. Not in that we feel ourselves better equipped than others but because we believe that no man should suppress or subvert his own individuality to the authority of another while there exsits the faintest possibility of new discovery. * NOTE—This is the first of a series of six articles to appear in the MER-CURY treating on this particular phase of Poe viewed from four stand-points. Let it be suggested that the succeeding articles be read in con-nection with the authors text. The next article will treat him as Poet —ED. (AM,, .i 158 THE MERCURY. THE TRAGEDY OF A SOUL. CLIFFORD E. HAYS, '07. ALL progress lies through evolution or revolution. Start-ling as this may seem, nevertheless it is true in Religion, Politics and the Industrial World. Progress is the giving up of the old condition and the advance to the new. The pro-gress of a nation or organization is measured by that of the individuals who compose it, and every time a man gives up a long accustomed ideal there is enacted a tragedy of the soul. Two hundred years ago a handful of patriots decided to leave behind the old order of things and set sail on that dark and unknown sea of Democracy. All those men were the de-scendants of races accustomed to monarchy and Despotism, and it was natural that there should be a long and desperate struggle before they could give up the old. No American History disregards the bitter debates of that gloomy period when the Continental Congress was in secret session and our nation's destiny hung in the balance, yet few of us indeed realize what it meant for those men to affix their names to the Declaration of Independence. Up to July 4, 1776, but a few radical dreamers had thought of separation and fewer desired Democracy. The clanging of that old bell caused a struggle in the soul of many a true and noble man before he went either to the Revolutionists or the Torys. And the tragedy of their souls has often been repeated and is now being rehearsed in the Peterhof in Russia. On May 18, 1868 a boy baby was born in St. Petersburg in the recesses of a fortified palace during a period of darkest despotism, the reaction of the spasmodic lenient period of the stormy reign of Nicholas I. During the babes' early years his grandfather Alexander II was harassed by many for-eign wars and internal troubles which ended in the Czar's as-sassination. The 3rd Alexander, the boy's father, took control, but the revolutionists were so active that he remained in con-finement two years before his coronation. Thus this youth was born and reared in a household con-tinually threatened and fearing, yet a household which held sacred the belief in historic Czarism. All his education was THE MERCURY. 159 to prepare him to be a Czar such as former Czars had been, although the fierceness of his ancestors was somewhat miti-gated by the state of affairs during which he was born, yet that one idea, that he would some day be God's vicegerent to rule that vast empire by his own absolute will, was constantly drilled into him. Surrounded and influenced by the bureau-cracy, his inherited autocratic spirit was intensified. Accus-tomed to think and hear that alone, it is not at all surprising that he should come to the throne a thorough autocrat. When twenty-six his father died, after a stormy reign filled toward the close with attempts at assassination. Then Czar Nicholas the II, this youth brought up in utter ignorance of the true condition of his country, secluded and taught aristo-cracy, with a mind and body inherited from a long line of despots, took the government of the vast Empire of Russia and her 140,000,000 souls steeped in ignorance and practically slaves to the nobles for seven centuries. It is a wild dream to think that Nicholas, the crystallized product of a line of Czars ruling for centuries in the same despotic course, should come to the throne filled with noble determination to free his people and set up a democracy. He knew no more of his people and democracy than his people knew of him personally. At court he was surrounded by that crowd of political vam-pires, the Bureaucracy, that class of nobles, the offspring of the Middle Ages, which inherited its rights for centuries. It is a nobility such as no other country knows. Dependent on the Czar and Czarism for their life liberty and property, they cling to the tottering throne of despotism as a vine to a mould-ering wall. Planted when the wall was erected, they have grown old and useless with it, and although they see the wall crumbling and tottering with every fresh blow from the tides of Democracy, yet they must cling to the wall for life. All enlightenment and culture is limited to the palaces of the nobles. "With their enlightenment and widened horizon which includes in its circle both Czar and the people, they see clearer than anyone else the true condition and the only solu-tion. They loathe Czarism which they are forced to support, and fear the people whom they must keep in submission. til Ilk ill'.) I.,.I. 160 THE MERCURY. They see this and fear, yet are bound to the throne for the maintenance of their life; they cling with death like grip to the thing they looth, yet cannot leave. Bureaucracy hangs between life and death, despotism and Democracy, progression and retrogression, but worst of all, knows that either way the pendulum swings aristocracy must vanish as a dream and they with it. Thus it is to their interest to keep the Czar in ignor-ance and their heads above water. With such a spirit ruling them and such interests at stake they drove Nicholas I mad, and hindered his useful reforms. This Czar broke through the ignorance, superstition and teachings of the Czar's and tried to better his people. He instituted education, lessened the censorship of the press, heard embassies from the people, and emulated foreign progress. Yet all this was undone by the bureaucracy who saw in this their ruin. They as ministers bowed to the Czar and promised faithfully to further his work, but out of his presence issued counter orders and altogether blocked his reforms. Real conditions were kept from him, till harassed on all sides, the Czar lost faith in everything, loathed civilization, hated progress and instituted such a despotic re-action that the country was plunged deeper than ever in the dungeon of ignorance. Such is the pitiful struggle in Russia's high places that the nobles in their mad race for life and posi-tion bind upon the Czar, in childhood, the shackles which en-able them to hinder him all through his reign. Surrounded by such conditions, Nicholas II came upon the throne of Russia in the year 1904. Brought up in seclu-sion and study during childhood, taught autocracy and militar-ianism in his youth, surrounded completely by the Bureaucracy, knowing little of Democracy, considering himself the vicege-rent of God and responsible to Him alone, and entirely ignor-ant of the condition of his people he kept the beaten path of his ancestors and it should cause no surprise that he did not immediately accept our western views of things. The recent war broke out and during it the young ruler be-came acquainted with his people. Suddenly into the dark chamber in which he sat and ruled, shut off from the world, a ray of light entered. He heard low grumblings. Then *,. THE MERCURY. 161 his dazzled eyes and startled ears gave evidence of the flames of Revolution and the demands of his people. One minute he was sitting in unsuspecting security; the next he was swept from his feet by that awful whirlwind of plunder and murder. Stunned and lost for awhile it seemed as if all must give way. Forces on all sides dragged him hither and thither. The people clamored, they howled, burned, pillaged, murdered ! Some demanded liberty ; some representation ; while others urged harsher despotism. He had no rest; one said this, another that. One cried " The Police ! Suppress! Trample ! Lash ! " Now came the urgent appeal, give the con-stitution or all is lost. Throw Autocracy to the winds or Russia is lost. Hear your people or your are doomed. The whole world mocked, the nations laughed at this poor imbe-cillic prince, who sat and held the power yet did not act. Yet were they right? Was he imbecillic and weak ? Most assuredly, No! He had always aimed to do the right, and but one thing was opened up to him as the right; therefore he did it in sincerity. On that eventful morning when after sleep-less nights, he signed the decree for the national assembly, he said to Count Witte : " I have never valued aught but the weal of my subject, and have always used autocratic power for that and never wittingly exercised it for any other purposes, I was always convinced that the welfare of the empire demanded this, but now I lay a portion of my power aside because I have good reason to believe it is to the advantage of Russia to do so." Thus drilled and taught Czarism, he came to the crisis blinded ; and when his eyes were opened he did not imme-diately fly to Democracy, and the nations mocked. He, Czar Nicholas, who believed himself to be of divine appointment, descended from a line of despots, did not break away from all precedent, undo the work of his ancestors for ages, did not deny his entire nature and change his mode of thinking in a moment, in immediate need and under great stress without hesitation, thought, or fear, and they said he was a weakling, an imbecile, a child! He loves his country, his whole pride is Russia, therefore he could not deny his moderate and prudent nature, which he 162 THE MERCURY. undoubtedly has, and plunge his people headforemost into our occidental iorm of Government, so strange to a European mind. And, if the truth were only known, the world would see but a handful of rash extremists, followers of such as Maxim Gorky, raving for liberty. What the people want is not so much the reins of government, but a little release from the oppression of the hated nobles. In this awful whirlpool of unrest the Czar could not loose all moorings from absolu-tism and expect to sail clearly and safely to any definite condi-tion. Place our own beloved President in such a position. If he should suddenly awake to the fact that Democracy was crush-ing his people that he had always been deluded, and at the same time four ways of acting, all contrary to his very nature, should be opened to him, he could not tear himself from Democ-racy ; he could not in one day decide what was best for this enlightened people. Let us then be reasonable. Let us consider the Czar with his bias due to a weight of despotic ancestry, hedged about by the autocracy, living in ignorance of the true conditions of his people, coming suddenly to the realization that something must be decided ; pushed hither and thither, all the while re-maining cool and collected, and at last giving that most mag-nificent testimony of a- clear brain and a deep desire for the right by signing the ukase by which he limited his autocratic power, and brought to a close centuries of despotism, and gave an earnest of liberty to 140,000,000 of people. Universal suffrage, a right to levy taxes, supervision over all branches of the government, and " civic liberty based on real inviolability of the person and freedom of conscience, speech, union and association," were on the 19th of August, 1905, conferred on a nation which had remained in ignorance and serfdom for seven centuries. And all this was decided upon by a conservative, prudent and strong willed man. But the most marvelous of all things which this young Prince, this laughed at " Little Father," accomplished; was the inner vic-tory in his soul over his imperial psychic nature, the accumu-lation and inheritance of ages. We are told that in order to THE MERCURY. 163 judge fairly an individual's actions " we must take into consider-ation his position, his character, his past, his individual feel-ings, his moral and physical powers. We must keep in view the incentives from without, the circumstances and limitations among which he moves." Then we can say that the Czar was not a puppet. He was not a mirror reflecting every one's opinion. With but a few short months of earnest thought after his awakening and under tempestuous conditions, he signed that manifesto. On that eventful morning, when Russia's new sun arose and the darkness of absolutism received its first blow, Czar Nicho-las II arose, calmly attended to some minor duties, then went to the Chamber of State where spread upon the table was that document. Standing on his right was Count Witte that diplo-mat of Russia who saved his country's honor in the financial crisis; he who gained a bloodless victory at Portsmouth ; the champion of the people; stood trembling as the Czar made the cross and wrote N-i-c-o-l-a-i, thus signing away his in-herited power. In the ante-room were assembled the minis-ters of Russia, members of the Bureaucracy, waiting to see the doom of their class. As Nicholas calmly signed, arose, and without a word left the chamber as if routine business had been transacted and with stately dignity and composure, passed out, these ministers burst into tears and sank into uncontroll-able grief. As thus we take under review the events of the past few months, we see a man, by the power of his will, in response to the imperative of a noble nature, breaking through all the bounds of influence, throwing off the bias of his inheritance,, changing his whole psychic nature and giving the funda-mentals of freedom to one-tenth of the earth's population. The struggle through which he passed ; the heartache, the doubt, the fear, the loneliness—who shall measure it ? There in his palace, if anywhere on earth, was enacted the silent but awful Tragedy of a Soul. 164 THE MERCURY. TIME—ITS DEMANDS AND GIFTS. '07. IN this, the Autumn season, there sometimes intrudes upon us a resentful feeling, that Time, is ruthless in his van-dalism. We stand before the ruins of the past and read new meaning in the oft-repeated phrase " time passes by." Time passes by—ah, yes! — and never did Attilla leave more devastation in his wake. The wind whispers the news of his arrival and sweet flowers fade, myriads of bright leaves fall. He breathes over the child, and the sparkling eyes become dulled, the rosy cheeks pale and seared. Shaken by his heavy onward tread, mighty columns crumble, beautiful statues fall prostrate. He passes his hand over the masterpieces of a DeVinci or a Titian and the exquisite coloring fades. He steals away the rich voice of a prima donna by whose power and sweetness the world was uplifted and rejoiced. He cramps the flexible fingers of the musician and no more the ravishing strains are heard. He leads captive the devoted statesman to whom a distracted people are anxiously looking for direction. He stalks over a mighty nation and only the record of history remains. But what strange scene is this ? I see a scholar bending over to examine a yellow crumpled volume. With an indrawn sigh of pleasure he whispers—" Ah ! it is old, old." I see a cultured woman wave aside sparkling cut glass and fragile painted china, and picking out a bit of rude discolored ware she exclaims, " Oh, give me this." I see a romping boy eagerly grasp a ragged stamp or black-ened coin. He tosses his cap in thj air and shouts—" Whew this is old." I see a traveller turn his indifferent glance from the most magnificent, the most beautiful of modern architectural achieve-ments and with face lit up with admiration, almost reverence, feast his eyes upon the crumbling columns of the Parthenon or the gloomy walls of a mediaeval castle. I see one turn from the blooming freshness of childhood to the silver hair and lined face of age, as though he had dis-covered some rarer beauty there. - - THE MERCURY. I65 V-Why should we thus stoop to kiss the hand that smites us? Go, ask the scnolar and he will lead you back to the age when men first conceived the idea of transmitting their thoughts by laboriously hewing a few symbols out ot solid rock. Cen-turies pass by until the alphabet appears and slowly, fitfully, at the cost of inconceivable labor, and often personal danger, our great treasury of thought was added to. Now it is the immortal Epics of Homer, now the philosophy for which Socrates willingly forfeited his life. Here and there are scat-tered the works of a Shakespeare, Milton, Hegel, Bacon, and the scholar in gratitude exclaims: "These are my jewels, the gift of Father Time." Ask the scientist and he will place in your hand a clod of earth or lump of coal; then leading you through the once dark avenue of scientific research, with its many windings and stumbling blocks, will turn on one by one, the many illumina-ting theories, and laws by which the by-ways of medicine, mathematics, chemistry and astronomy, have been lit up by that master-workman Time. Ask the musician and he will tell you of the rude ancient lyres which were played by the wind blowing over the strings ; or of the Grecian pipes, having but two or three stops. Then he will place you in a dimly lighted cathedral while a mighty organ peals forth a Handel's Largo, or a full orchestra, one of Beethoven's Symphonies or a single violin—a melody of Reu-benstines. Ask the patriot and he will show you a brave pioneer hew-ing his way through the limitless forest, fighting savages, de-prived of every comfort. He will show you a brave little com-pany of men boldly signing their name to what semed virtu, ally their own death warrant. He will show you a Valley Forge and a Gettysburg. He will show you a country which is regarded as the Paradise of the World. Ask the little child and he will clap his hands and lead you into an enchanted land, peopled with elves and fairies—with Santa Claus, with giants, mermaids, and Grecian heroes. Ask the aged man and he will lay before you memory's book from which the kindly hand of Time has erased all small- j66 THE MERCURV. nesses and disfiguring blots ; and upon the last page you will find inscribed not " Finis," but the expression of the " great conception in which the belief in the human race and its des-tines triumphantly asserts itself"—continued through eternity. UP HIGHER. Every time you miss or fail, Start in on a higher scale, Let each tear, and sigh and moan, Only be a stepping stone ; Let each dark experience Point you to an eminence Up higher. Every stab that racks your heart, Fits you for a stronger part, Every stunning blow of pain, Lifts you to a broader plane. Every foe that can appear, Trains you for a larger sphere Up Higher. Never pause, and ne'er look back O'er the fast-receding track. There's a ghost there, grim and gaunt— IVhat's ahead is what you want. Turn; and you will stand aghast: Never search the bitter past, Look higher ! From each crushing blow of pain, Rise and go ahead again. Though your days fly swiftly past, Push to conquer to the last. Upward yet, and upward ever ; Onward still, and backward never ! Even when you hear the sound Of Death's whisper iook beyond, Up higher. —Joseph Bert Smiley THE MERCURY. l67 V-CONSCIENCE AND SUPERSTITION. D. L. BAKER, '08. conscience and Superstition—what relation can exist be-tween them ? A by no means readily seen one. It is only when we consider each in relation with a third, that their intimacy makes itself apparent. This third factor shall be Religion. Now every known religion sets forth certain staple rules for right living ; none but strives at a certain ethical standard; all hold out a certain reward, present or beyond, for faithful con-formance with its own particular doctrines and precepts. By even a mere passing analysis of the fundamental tenets of varied religion there may be readily discovered a startling con-flict in ethical ideals. Conscience is that peculiar essence which by common con-sent is credited with the office of approval and censure passed upon the actions of self. A violation of moral or ethical law is supposed to entail an unpleasant activity on the part of the conscience bearing a close resemblance and relation to remorse. Strange to say when we refer to the activities of conscience, it is almost always censure we note and rarely approval. Are we then to conclude that conscience is a threatening scourge, a lurking nemesis awaiting some unprotected Sin to pounce upon ? It is when we assume this attitude and then rake them, the infinite fields of superstition, that we are struck by a startling parallelism. As to-day the dreaded cellar fiends and garret spooks invariably lie in wait for the unruly youngster, so throughout the history of mythology it is the evil ones on whom the scourges of fiends and the terror of the Furies fell. Superstition is apparently as inherent in man as conscience itself. The most intelligent of us feel its icy fingers clutch our throats at certain limes—and those times—usually when our consciences are not easy. We perform a misdeed—the natural and legitimate result to expect, is punishment. The sin or crime may have been a secret one ; we know it was unwitnessed —yet racial habit is so over-ruling that we nevertheless expect punishment; intuitively, expect it. In such case, intelligence 168 THE MERCURY. or rather consciousness strives to justify and clothe intuition. Then there is nothing to fear from the human will; if fear con-tinues it must be of the superhuman. At night, when darkness hides danger, the hereditary ani-mal in us fears the lurking creatures of the dark pre-historic beasts of prey—but intelligence denies their existence. The animal fear triumphs and the mind creates a thousand super-stitious horrors to justify it. Any uneasy conscience multi-plies them a thousandfold, e. g., Fields' juvenile poem—"See-ing Things at Night," and Riley's, " Little Orphant Annie." Shall we then say, superstitious fear is merely a modified fear of retribution supernaturally administered because of absence of human agents ? We can say the same of conscience. Dare we then say conscience and superstition are merely dif-ferent manifestations of fear of punishment? If so, how can we explain that individuals of low intelligence are most susceptible to superstition and most callous in con-science ? Can we then define conscience as a source of super-stition ? Here we find ourselves in deep water—very deep ; conscience is supposed to set the standard for absolute right. If so, how can we explain the antagonism in religious dogmas cited in the beginning of this discussion? It seems then as though conscience was dependent on re-ligion. But every religion is burdened by a large amount of superstition, which superstition seems to exert a stimulus on conscience. Which shall we say—conscience is the product of superstition—or superstition, the product of conscience ? The revelation is undoubtedly close, closer in fact than we like or dare to admit. THE MERCURY. 109 CO-OPERATIVE COLLEGE GOVERNMENT. '08. BY cooperative college government we mean the uniting of the faculty with the student body, and the two operating jointly to promote the same end. We do not wish to make an attack on the present form of government with any malice whatever; but having been on trial before the faculty, and several times called into the Presi-dent's office, in company with a body of representative men, to consider questions relative to college government, we feel that a frank expression of our views will not be mistaken. Knowing the sentiments of many of our Alumni and that of the entire student body we are truly convinced that the present form of government is unsatisfactory, and believe that some form of cooperative government would meet with hearty approval. The predominating dissatisfaction with our present form of government is that our faculty do hot stand in close enough relation with the students, to readily understand each indi-vidual and thus are unable to correct his faults while they are yet in bud. Under the present form of government the will of the faculty is absolute. In this one body are vested the Legislative, the the Judicial and the Executive powers. The students are mute as far as government is concerned. The student upon entering the institution is handed a copy of the rules and regulations. He reads them and lays them aside. Soon he has forgotten their contents and violates a minor clause, soon another and then another till he has broken many, and it has now become a habit with him. Suddenly he is notified by the Proctor to appear before the faculty to give an account of himself. All available evidence has been collected by the faculty beforehand and he is asked to make his defense. Occasionally it so hap-pens that he cannot satisfy the faculty as to his innocence and he is given a period of suspension or expulsion, If at the outstart of his transgressions he had been visited by a com-mittee and cautioned as to his conduct, probably he would have avoided this humilation. 170 THE MERCURY. We do not believe that it would be wise to put all power of government into the hands of the students, but we believe they should be given some power. Where could be found a more fitting place for teaching the lessons of citizenship than in the govermental affairs of a college ? Our students have demonstrated that they are capable of taking up the various activities of college life and of hand-ling them successfully. We have our athletic council. In that council are representatives from every class. Why couldn't cooperative college government be run on the same plan ? The Faculty or Trustees electing their members, and each class electing theirs, this body being given full legislative power. Then a committee of students appointed by this couucil to educate the new men with the legislation, this same committee to watch a young man after he had been reported by some student for neglect or misconduct. Then if he persists in his efforts, cautioned, and then if he heeds not, brought before the com-mittee and then if they find him incorrigible, reported to the faculty, who finding out all the facts in the case take definite action. With a system of this kind, we think the faculty would be relieved of much of its burdensome care, and that all hazing and " rough housing " would be eliminated ; for those most annoyed, certainly would report to the committee and this committee being a body of honorable men could do nothing other than deal justice. Also a greater college spirit would be created, for no man would be permitted to become boorish in his manner, and each would know that part of the welfare of the college rested upon him the same as the true citizen knows that part of the nation's welfare rests upon him. When we get a system of college government such as this, then College Spirit will be a kin to Patriotism. THE MERCURY. 171 STUDENT AND COLLEGE LIFE—A LIFE LONG RELATION. ROY E. SMITH, '08. EVER since the custom of having a particular sight, dedi. cated to the instruction of those wishing to become more fully acquainted with the higher learning in science, philosophy, rhetoric and all departments of knowledge, was instituted; since certain ancients, renowned in their knowledge of certain arts, had their "schools" of followers, there has been a relation preserved between master and pupil; between their alma-mater and themselves, rivaling the ties of home and kindred and ever remembered as one of the dearest of their lives. What is this relation which binds with bonds of affection so strong that they last for a life time ? Why is it that we cling to one and repudiate the other ? ' It is the old story of affection through association. Since the beginning of time men have regarded with affection and left with regret things which may have seemed despicable to them at first. The thief does not follow his craft for love of it when he first takes it up, but later he glories in narrow es-capes and gloats over a successful raid. So it is with our college life. We, in time, become a part of our surroundings and when the time comes for our graduation, or when we must of necessity leave, it is with a pang of regret as if we were losing something that held a peculiarly warm spot in our hearts. And we are. For what is like the friendships formed be-tween instructors and those whom they teach ? What besides home affections, can rival those formed with our fellow stu-dents? Those who, having passed through their college life, are struggling with the difficult problems presented to them by the world can best answer these questions. How often do they live over again the good old days when they were Fresh-men ? They can again hear the soft knock at their door and feel over again their sensations of wonder, and then of terror, as they see man after man enter to demand entertainment. Then they thought that something like shame and humility 172 THE MERCURY. crept in as they rowed an imaginary boat in a veritable tem-pest for an imaginary shore, or gave extemporaneous speeches on subjects suggested by the audience. But no touch of bit-terness entered in now. Those things which appeared inde-corous then served only to stamp more vividly in their minds the wonderfnl good-fellowship which underlay all their gruff manners. They even wondered how they escaped getting it harder. Then they would think of their first admittance, involun-tarily and unwished for, let it be said, into the presence of the faculty; and of their mingled feelings as they were told that it was for the good of the College, generally, that they keep out of all scrapes or else go home. Truly these roses, albeit with their thorns, appear sweet and the thorns, as well as the roses, help to bind one more closely to his undergraduate life and also to his Alma Mater. Can we ever forget our undergraduate days ? As well forget the home of our childhood, or the love of a faithful friend ! A TOURNAMENT. LEVERING TYSON, '09. IN the central part of Germany, situated along the banks of the Rhine, and overlooking its surface, stood the stern fore-boding castle of Prince Vonholm. This imposing structure had been the residence of the Vonholm's for many centuries, and the aged, ivy grown walls had long since begun to crumble. The Prince and his family moved into the lowlands, shutting up the habitable part of the ancestral home, seeking the pleas-ures of court life and the education of his children. The Princes' one care was his son Richard. He was a stocky, medium-sized young fellow, muscular and especially well suited for the tournament, the principle source of amusement to the aristocrats of that day. It so happened that Sir Henry Dismusch, a favorite of the king, also had a son about Roger Vonholm's age. He was skilled in all manner of war-like exercises and held the office of head 'squire in the king's retinue. This he acquired by his strict attention to af- THE MERCURY. 173 fairs of the court and also by the aid of his father who, next to Prince Vonholm, was considered the best knight in all the country round about. While Henry Dismusch, Jr., was coursing with his father with blunt spears, Roger Vonholm would take his horse and game bag and would ride off into the woods, leaving the mes-sage that he was going hunting. This he continued to do for two years. Every evening he would come home, completely, tired out with his exertions, but with empty game bag; Yet he was as cheerful as any one in good health could possibly be. His mother was busy tending to Court affairs and his father was off to the war, so Roger's only companion was a middle aged soldier whom the Prince always left at home while he was away on his travels to guard his family. This soldier was the constant companion of Roger and was always by his side on his journeys through the woods; so the Princess Vonholm was not greatly alarmed about the safety of her son. Near the summer residence of the Vonholm's were the huge lists of Crancy. The arena was oval-shaped, six hundred feet long and about four hundred wide. Around this was a circular enclosure about twelve feet wide for the attendants, clerks of the course, and the heralds. This was to be the scene of one of the most interesting tournaments held within many miles of the castle. The young Squire Henry Dismusch was going to defend his title as head squire against all comers. Only young men under twenty years of age were eligible to compete for the honor. A contest of this kind had never been held in the Crancy lists, and the people of the surrounding country did all in their power to please their sovereign by their atten-dance. The all important day dawned fair and cloudless. Before it was time to commence the contest, every available seat in the huge amphitheatre was occupied, and still huge crowds surged through the entrances. Sir Dismusch and his family were seated near the king, awaiting with confidence the combats which meant so much to them. Prince Vonholm sat next to the king watching the surges of humanity for his son, who, for ,^,'^WuH'iti u 174 THE MERCURY. some reason or other, was delayed and could not accompany his father to the lists. At last the Prince turned his attention to the games, as the heralds had announced the preliminary contests. They were well waged but of little interest to the king and his court. These were awaiting anxiously the challenge fight for head 'squireship. The heralds had no sooner announced the proclamation of the knight defender, than a trumpet blast sounded from the far end of the lists, and there entered the arena a knight clad all in sable armor with a white cross upon his shield and a leopard rampant upon his helmet, accompanied by a knight clad all in crimson armor, a gold cross upon his shield and a double eagle on his helmet. The sable knight came forward to the centre of the lists, and raising the visor of his helmet, showed himself to be, King Howard, the brother of the king, the ruler of the neighboring kingdom. He acted as voucher for the knight challenger, saying that he wished to keep his identity unknown until after the contest. The heralds then sounded their trumpets for the contest to start. Various preliminaries were gone through, until at last the knight in crimson armor stood stock still at the northern end of the lists and the knight defendant, at the opposite station. The unknown knight was armed with a sword, mace, and dagger, and rode a huge black charger. His opponent be-strode a milk white steed and his armor was entirely white. He carried a mace hung at his saddle bow, and besides his dagger also carried^a kind of truncheon, a cross between a sword and one of the huge coursing spears generally used in tourna-ments. This last weapon was just becoming popular with the younger knights and 'squires, and Henry Dismusch had also adopted it. It could be convenien-tly wielded on horseback and was not as bulky as the spear. At the blast of the herald's trumpet, both men dug the spurs into the flanks of the horses and thundered down the lists nearer and nearer to each other. With the noise like a clap of thunder the two chargers met and recoiled, each rider doing his best to unseat the other. After the first recoil, the knights m THE MERCURY. 175 fought fiercely hand to hand. The horse of the unknown knight was unruly and the spectators could see that his actions were greatly retarding the strokes of his rider. The combat clashed on. The knight challenger was charging to meet the attack of the knight defendant, when his horse suddenly reared and received the point of the truncheon in his side. Giving a snort, he jumped forward, unseating his rider and falling heavily to the earth a short distance away, dragging the un-known knight with him in his fall. Then the knight defender seeing the knight challenger at his mercy rode over to him to end the contest. Riding his horse beside his fallen opponent, he thrust at him with his truncheon. The knight on the ground was powerless to rise, as the weight of his armor was too great for him. He knew death was imminent and waited for the finishing stroke. When the blow from the truncheon fell he seized the truncheon above the head and held. Had the knight chalen-ger just let go of the handle or stopped his steed, he would have conquered the fallen knight easily. The horse sprang forward and the very stroke that should have ended the knight's career was the means of saving him. He was dragged along the ground for a short distance and then managed to seize his opponent's stirrup. With this aid, he managed to seize the mace hanging to the saddle bow; and tearing it from its fas-tenings, with a mighty blow struck the knight challenger full in the neck and hurled him completely from the saddle. The clerks of the course declared the contest won by the knight challenger F.nd ran up just in time to catch him as he fell from exhaustion. A mighty shout arose when the result of the contest was seen ; but this changed to a roar, when the victor's name was declared by the herald. The surprise and wonder were universal and the amazement of the king was great, but none were more surprised or dumbfounded than Prince Von-holm ; for the name of the victor, which the herald announced, was " Richard Vonholm, this day rightlead squire to his Majesty, King Frederick." M tt,.»:\i,.'iii u THE MERCURY Entered at the Postoffice at Gettysburg as second-class Matter VOL. XIV GETTYSBURG, PA., NOVEMBER, 1906 No. 6 Associate Editors GEO. W. KESSI.BR, '08 J. K. ROBB, '08 EDMUND L. MANGES, '08 Advisory Board PROF. J. A. HIMES, LITT.D. PROF. G. D. STAHLEY, M.D. PROF. J. W. RICHARD, D.D. Editor-in-chief WARD B. S. RICE, '07 Exchange Editor THOS. E. SHEARER, '07 Business Manager THOMAS A. FAUST, '07 AssH Bus. Managers. HENRY M. BOWER, '08 H. WATSON DAVISON, '08 Published each month, from October to June inclusive, by the joint literary societies of Pennsylvania (Gettysburg) College. Subscription price, one dollar a year in advance; single copies 15 cents. Notice to discontinue sending the MERCURY to any address must be accompanied by all arrearages. Students, Professors and Alumni are cordially invited to contribute. All subscriptions and business matter should be addressed to the Busi-ness Manager. Articles for publication should be addressed to the Editor. Address THE MERCURY, GETTYSBURG, PA. EDITORIALS. POETRY. W e will acknowledge that some persons are more poetic in their thoughts than others, yet we believe that there are a larger number who could write poetry worth reading, if they would make the attempt. There is more of the mechanical in writing poetry than appears on the surface. In reading a poem we are so affected with the loftiness ot thought or the elegance of style that we do not think of the ground work or THE MERCURY. 177 plan by which it was effected. Poetry is not idle rhyme but a well developed plan, the discription of a beautiful thought. We notice a great difference between poetry and prose, both in style and effect. This distinction is difficult to describe; just as the metallic lustre, of a mineral, we know it is a prop-erty but can not thoroughly define it." We notice that poetry is more ornate; it is crowded with thought and beauty ; it pierces the very soul. For example take the quotation from Bell: " Rich were the sable robes she wore." This is animat-ing and suggestive ; but suppress the emphasis by a rearrange-ment of the words : " She wore rich sable robes." You now notice how flattered, how less attractive it is. Often too, rhyme lends charm to the poem, though not necssarily so, as some of the best are written in blank verse. The requisites for writing worthy poetry are out of the ordinary, but by no means unat-tainable. Furthermore we must not think that our work has been a failure because it does not measure up to the master-pieces, which are often the work of genius or years of exper-ience. THE READING One of the most important advantages afforded ROOMS. the students by the college authorities is the reading rooms and the provision for the management of the same. It is there that we have placed before us the daily news-papers, the weekly and monthly magazines. In them we have news of all kinds ; the daily occurrences and happenings, the papers depicting the sportive side of life, and the magazines which contain the latest discussions, from different points of view, by men who are leaders and thinkers. We are obliged to search the pages of history for the past, but we only have to open our eyes to see the present as it is being acted before us. It is surprising to note the small number who really take advantage of this great opportunity, and to see the large number of magazines on the shelves during the open hours. Many confine most of their time to the athletic news and the papers of jest. We do not condemn a certain amount of this kind of reading-but are obliged to do so when it is engaged in to a i78 THE MERCURY. fault. Our ignorance of the times places us at a decided dis-advantage especially in college life. We are unable to handle impromptu speaking ; we will find ourselves lacking in material for -debate, and are at a loss as to what to write on an essay subject, if we have not read an thus formed some opinion and conclusion of our own. Let us form a conclusion of our own, for what we have read is only an opinion and one of the pos-sible attitudes to the subject. By reading we become ac-quainted with the facts from which we are able to draw our conclusion. A short time each day spent in the reading rooms is not only the privilege but the duty of every one who is seek-ing a thorough college training. M The question ot literary societies is an old LITERARY SOCIETIES. Qne^ but js of such jmportance that it can not be emphasized to often. There seems to be somewhat of a renewal of the literary spirit this year; the weekly meetings show a larger attendance and a new enthusiasm in the work. This is to be highly commended ; for we can not say too much of the influence which this kind of work has upon those who actively engage in it. It seems to broaden a man in every way ; he learns to think and talk before audiences without pre-vious preparation; it is a good help in training one to express his thoughts clearly and concisely; one is soon aware of a cer-tain ease with which he recites his lessons; there is even noti-ceable more freedom in ordinary conversation. Over one half of the first term has passed. Have you joined one of the so-cieties ? If you have not done so, do it at once. Either one of them will amply repay you for the time spent in it. How-ever we do not wish to be understood to say that your name upon the roll or even your presence at the meetings will bene-fit you ; those facts only give you the opportunity; you must do the rest. For a time it may be burdensome for you to take part in the program, but through constant effort it will soon be-come a pleasure. We assure you that if you join with a de-termination to work, and make service your motto, success will be yours. THE MERCURY. 179 EXCHANGES. There are many excellent points about the exchanges this month, among which is an article in The Dickinsonian written by an alumnus, " Preparing a Debate." The writer is an ex-perienced and successful debatorand consequently the methods which he sets forth should not be passed over lightly by those who are desirous of becoming good debators. Only a few of the points can be reproduced here. " A debate is not won alone by the brilliant work done upon the platform, but is largely won in the laborious and silent days of preparation. It is then that they construct their line of defense and obtain the undeniable facts upon which they are to erect their fortress of argument. * * * * Again a whole volume of argument must be contracted into a ten minute thunderbolt, and victory usually rests with the men who can make the most of that fleeting ten minutes. This work requires ability and carelul thought. * * * * We collected all of the arguments, pro and con, and discussed them. Our next move was to construct as strong a brief as we possibly could of our opponents' case. This is well as it forces one to build his own case with a thorough understand-ing of the opposition, and he therefore puts a truer valuation on the worth of the arguments which enter into his brief of debate. After this was done we began the construction of our own cose. * * * * We took up every possible argu-ment for our opponents and carefully prepared an answer to each point which we thought they might present. Do not de-pend on constructing answers on your feet, from your general knowledge of the subject, but be prepared with facts, skill-fully marshalled, under whose fire their arguments will be swept away. In addition to this we endeavored to anticipate the possible answers which our opponents would make to our own arguments and to construct counter rebuttals." In addi-tion to all this, physical training is necessary ; for " nothing so requires vigor and thorough command of one's nerves as a debate contest; " so this debator trained just like an athlete. He was careful of his eating hours and of what he ate; he avoided pastry and most desserts; he took an extra amount of i8o THE MERCURY. light exercise in the open air, and took plenty of sleep—never buring the midnight oil. So when the night of debate came he was in the best possible condition both mentally and phy-sically. His success has given ample proof of the efficiency of his methods. " Extinction of The American Indian " in The Drury Mirror is one of those articles, often met with, which seem to be products of over-heated brains, or diseased imaginations. Do you think that it was after a calm, deliberate and just in-vestigation of the facts that the following was written ? " Call not this result barbarism succumbing to civilization ; call it not the survival of the fittest; call it rather the result of hypo-critical intrigue, of broken agreements. Let us lay the charge of this terrible obliteration at the doors of our own character. Avaricious, we mercilessly seized the Indian's lands; domi-neering, we overrode the rights of the Redman and disre-regarded our duty to him ; impatient, we refused the savage time and opportunity to accustom himself to the great change civilization brought; non-assimilative, we said, " the only good Indian was a dead one." * * * * And now! The last chapter has been written ; "congress, the vote-seeking, hold-out-your- had-for money congress, although breaking treaties and agreements, although shattering the sacred ho^e of the terri-tory Indians for separate statehood, has done the thing most feared and dreaded—brought Indian Territory and Oklahoma into the Union as one state, under the name Oklahoma." We are glad to acknowledge receipt of the following ex-changes : Otterbein Aegis, The Haverfordian, Western Mary-land Monthly, The Oivl, The Philomathean Monthly, The Col-lege Student, The Drnry Mirror, The Augsburg S. S. Teacher, The Mountaineer, The Dickinsonian, The State Collegian, The Forum, The Crimson and White, The Albright Bulletin, The Argus, The Youth's Companion, The Siisquehanna, The Jitniatd Echo, 'The Amulet, The Manitou Messenger, The Hartivick Seminary Monthly, The Augustana Observer, The High School News, (Lancaster), The Viatorian, and The Midland. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISER'S FURNITURE Mattresses, Bed Springs, Iron Beds, Picture Frames, Repair Work done promptly. Under-taking a specialty. * Telephone No. 97. H. IB. IBend-er 37 Baltimore St., Gettysburg, Pa. The Windsor Hotel 1217=2 Filbert St., Philadelphia. Headquarters for Students. Thoroughly Renovated, Refurnished and Remodeled FRANK M. SCHEIBLEY, Manager. ^Graduate of Lafayette College 1898. A* G. Spalding & Bros. Largest Manufacturers in the World of Official Athletic Supplies Base Ball Lawn Tennis Foot Ball Archery Roque Quoits Cricket Lacrosse Golf Implements for all Sports Spalding's Official Base Ball Guide for 1906. Edited by Henry Chadwick. The most complete and up-to-date book ever published oh the subject. Fully illustrated. Price 10 Cents. Spalding's Official League Ball is the adopted ball of the National League, and must be used in all match games. Every requisite for Lawn Ten-nis and Golf. For over a quarter of a century Spalding's Trade-Mark on Base Ball implements has marked the advancement in this particular sport. Spalding's Trade Mark on our Athletic Implement gives you an advantage over the other player as you have a better article, lasts longer, gives more satisfaction. Every Base Ball Manager should send at oncefor a copy of Spalding's Spring and Sun:' mer Catalogue—FREE. A. G. SPALDING «S BROS. New York, Chicago, Boston, Buffalo, Washington, San Francisco, Philadelphia, Kansas City, Montreal, Canada, New Orleans, London. England, Denver, Pittsburg, Cincinnati, Syracuse, St. Louis, Minneapolis, Baltimore, Hamburg, Germany PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. 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ORATORICAL NUMBER APRIL, 1901 CONTENTS April 35 The Significance of the Unin-tended 36 Our Democracy 41 The Dream of the Ages 43 The Man with the Hoe 47 War in the Light of the Twen-tieth Century SI International Arbitration to Sat-isfy National Honor 55 John Ruskin—The Man 58 Editorials 62 "The Reign of Law" 63 Exchanges 67 Advertisements 68 FAVOR THOSE WHO FAVOR US. For Fine- Printing go to Be X lo Wile Friipliil faff CARLISLE ST. GETTYSBURG, PA. C. B. Kitzmiller Dealer in Hats, Caps, Boots and Douglas Shoes GETTYSBURG, PA. R. M. Elliott Dealer in Hats, Caps, Shoes and. Gents' Furnishing Goods Corner Center Square and Carlisle Street GETTYSBURG, PA. EDGAR 5. MARTIN, ^CIGARS AND SMOKERS' ARTICLES ^p* ^y*j^ Chambersburz St., Gettysburg Leadership IN THE CLOTHING and MEN'S FURNISHING Business It is strictly here—everybody knows it. Testimony ? The stock itself. The pen suffi-ciently nimble to tell all the good points of our ::::::: FALL AMD WINTER. SUITS AND OVERCOATS has not been found. We will keep you dressed right up-to-date if you buy your Clothing and Furnishings here. : : : : STIINE McPherson Block- No. II BALTIMORE STREET WILLIAM H.HETF.ICK GETTYSBURG COLLEGE PA.UL K1ELFFER FRANKLIN &MARSHAL HOWARD E.SH1MER MUHLENBERG COLLEGE J . W. D OVNEY L E H1G H EDWARD E.KELLEY URSIWU5 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY The Literary Journal of Pennsylvania College Entered at the Postojftce at Gettysburg as second-class matter VOL. X GETTYSBURG, PA., APRIL, 1901 No. 2 APRIL JOHN KEBLE Lessons sweet of spring returning, Welcome to the thoughtful heart! May I call ye sense or learning, Instinct pure, or heaven-taught art? Be your title what it may, Sweet and lengthening April day, While with you the soul is free, Ranging wild o'er hill and lee; Soft as Memnon's harp at morning, To the inward ear devout, Touched by light with heavenly warning, Your transporting chords ring out. Every leaf in every nook, Every wave in every brook, Chanting with a solemn voice Minds us of our better choice. Needs no show of mountain hoary, Winding shore or deepening glen, Where the landscape in its glory, Teaches truth to wandering men. Give true hearts but earth and sky, And some flowers to bloom and die, Homely scenes and simple views Lowly thoughts may best infuse. 36 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE UNINTENDED PATTI. KIEFFER, of Franklin and Marshal [First Prize] '"PHERE is an Eastern fable of three princes contesting in arch- * ery for their father's kingdom. The youngest, regarded as a weakling, after an apparently poor effort, is unable to find his arrow. The elder brothers divide the kingdom, while he is left in ridicule to search for the lost missile. Hedoesso. Traveling many days in the direction of the shot, he comes upon his arrow imbedded in the door of a cavern, whither it has been wafted, mile after mile, by some unseen power. The door opens into the land of the genii, a realm of untold riches; and the youthful archer, now a mighty potentate, returns to receive adulation, where but a short time before he had met with but scorn and ridicule. The story of the princely archer is more than a fable; it is an allegory. The shot from his bow had an unintended and unex-pected result; a similar fate has attended men's efforts in all ages. For it is the universal experience that men aim at one thing and attain another. It has been always thus. Men work and labor and toil, and when it is all over and the work is done, behold, the result is other than that of the original intent. Men build better than they know. So true is this that there would seem to be a law by virtue of which it is characteristic of most of the great and genuine and lasting achievements of man, that they come in an unwonted, unintended and unexpected manner. Great is that which man has sought for and achieved; greater still is that which he has not sought for and has yet achieved. Great is the logic of man; the logic of events is greater. Indirection and unconscious-ness— these have attended the fruitful workings of human handi-craft, of human agency, and of human genius. The great discoveries—how have they come? In their blind-ness, men sought to read their fortunes in the stars, and out of astrology grew the noble science of astronomy. In the black kitchens men spend their lives in the search for the elixir of life, and out of alchemy, chemistry is born. The fall of an apple and the discovery of a universal law are inseparably linked. In the cathedral at Pisa a verger oils a lamp and leaves it swinging to and fro; a youth of eighteen sees it, ponders, and conceives the idea of measuring time. Indirection is the law. Men puzzle them- THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 37 selves with problems for years; and then, suddenly, and in some unexpected manner the truth is imparted to some genius and the world moves on a step. New and untried ventures bring strange results. Columbus is sure that he is discovering a new route to the East; the floating seaweed that quells the mutiny on board his ships belongs to a new continent whose discovery renders his name immortal. To-day, four hundred years later, the powerful young nation which has grown up upon this continent has reached the Pacific and is look-ing beyond, and men stand with bated breath as they see her reach-ing across the great ocean to the East. The dream of the Genoese adventurer, after four centuries is about to receive some semblance of fulfillment in a manner of which he little dreamed. A protest against the sale of indulgences is a trifling matter; not so insignifi-cant is the splitting of the Roman Catholic Church and the de-stroying of the Papal supremacy. The little Mayflower bears a small band of men and women seeking religious freedom. After several centuries we look back to the spot upon which they landed, little dreaming of their mission, to see diverging therefrom the rays of light which have illuminated our nation ever since. That was Puritan light that made clear the pathway to Bunker Hill, to Yorktown, and to Appomattox. The colonies are now full grown and the mother country be-comes tyrannical. An unjust stamp tax is imposed and the colo-nists resist. The Boston Tea Party registers opposition to taxation without representation. But the colonists are still loyal. '' From one end of the colonies to the other," says Franklin, "no one is thinking of independence." Then, like a thunderbolt in a clear sky, a bold spirit, raised to a higher plane than his fellows, and catching the first glimpse of a new dawn, cries, "Give me liberty, or give me death!'' The cry of treason is the reply; but the events of a few swift years prove that he has caught a true vision. Resist-ance to a petty stamp tax inspired a revolution, threw off a yoke of oppression, and laid the foundation for the freest, most enlight-ened, most powerful republic in history—while men wondered. The world's battles in all times have been fought out upon forlorn hopes. Gideon sat by the wine-press when he received the call to arms. His three hundred put to flight the hosts of the Midianites. Wilberforce in England and Garrison in America go forth, like Hercules of old, to battle with the hydra-headed slave 33 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY interests. In both continents it is one against a thousand. The one wins and both continents are freed. The world's schools present a strange picture. England's greatest preacher was an uneducated school usher. The temper-ance lecturer is picked out of the gutter. Buu3'an was an infidel. Lincoln was born in a slave state. Paul sat at the feet of Gama-liel. Moses was brought up in Egypt. The poet, the artist—he, too, knows the significance of the unintended. He calls it inspiration. Not a substitute for toil, for years of labor; but the final result comes not in the direct line of work. The painter in his studio sees his work fruitless for years; he is almost in despair; and then one night, as he is taking a moment's rest, in God's great out-of-doors perhaps, his reward comes. Gaspar Becana sits idle by the hearth when the long-awaited message, denied him at his work, is revealed to him in the flame. Years of toil, of unremitting labor; but at the supreme moment, no effort. Small wonder that Schiller exclaimed; "Since creation began All that mortals have wrought All that's God-like in man Comes—the flash of a thought." A scene from our nation's history. Thirty years of growing bitterness have kindled the flame of national discord, and the fiery characters proclaim that slavery is a crime. But at this moment the black slave is forgotten. It is a Federal fort off the southern coast, and it has been fired upon; the national troops have been attacked; states withdraw from the Union; brother takes arms against brother in the horrors of an internecine con-flict. Anti-slavery is swallowed up in a war for the preservation of the Union. Two short, swift years of war, and the voice of the commander-in-chief is heard throughout the land. The words he speaks are those of the Emancipation Proclamation. The slave is free, and that is accomplished by two years of war for another purpose in which thirty years of direct opposition failed. But there is no standing still. History is making. It is thirty years later and another crisis is reached. An oppressed people has lifted its appeal to the great American heart, whose pulsations, imperceptible at times, are none the less sure and true. The world's eyes are directed to Cuba, to the unprecedented ?pec-tacle of a great power wielding the sword in a war for the sake of THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 39 humanity. But while the battle is on, what means this other sound, this note ol war from far across the sea? What mean these guns and sound of falling masonry? Has the electric impulse reached from Cuba half-way around the world? Yes. The American flag floats over Manila and the Philippines are ours. "But hold," the people cry, "tofree Cuba is our onhy aim. What have we to do with those far-off islands and a foreign race. New possessions are not part of our intent." Intent? If history can teach; if the experience of the past can furnish lessons for the present and future, this is the very seal and sign and token of the genuineness of your new duty that it was unintended. Then a voice cries, "So be it, America has burst her bonds!" "Imperi-alism!" is the reply and a new conflict is on. The final arbiter, the sovereign will of the people, must decide. But who can doubt the result? Stop our country's growth? Put an end to the national life? The ballot is cast; the people have echoed "So be it," and the seal of ratification is placed upon another great move-ment whose inception was unwitnessed by human eyes. Then, above the conflict of party and the war of words, one can all but hear the genius of the nation: "Here, O America, is thy duty. Whether thou wilt or no, here is thy mission. Thy path is clear. Here or nowhere is thy destiny, work it out therefrom, to the ends of liberty and humanity, of justice and order and peace." And what is the meaning of it all? Is man a creature of blind chance, his fate determined by every gust of wind that blows? Is history wrought out by luck? Are we to doubt the poet, doubt that "through the ages one increasing purpose runs?" Are man's work, his years of toil, his planning, his foresight, his God-given gift of reason—are all these to go for naught? The on-ward march of civilization answers No. The uplifting and better-ing of humanity answer No. The assent of man answers No. The unintended—unintended by whom? Who intended that the sun should shine by day and the moon by night? Who intended that the earth should yield up her fruits and the rain descend from Heaven? While man proposes, God disposes. Eeason,plan, method, purpose,—all these, could man, blind man, but see them. Yes, "there's a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will." It is a dark night at a time of crisis in our nation's history. The 40 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY great captain lies dead at Washington by the hand of the assassin. In the great city of the commonwealth a mob is gathering and its mutterings are terrible in their foreboding. Old wounds gape afresh. The suspense is awful; what the morning will bring no one can tell. Suddenly, above the uproar of the crowd, like the clear note of a trumpet, a voice is heard. It is the voice of a man of the people. The words he speaks are few and simple: "God reigns!" Like the calming of a great storm upon the waters, the crowd disperses and the dawn ushers in a day of peace. May the echo of those words be endless in our country's career! God grant that down her path in times of peaceful well-being, in times of storm and stress, the words of her inspired patriot may ring in the ears of all her sons, "God reigns!" Yes, at her birth-throes He was with her; in the trying times of her infancy and youth He guided her; in her maturity he has blest her. And now, in the full plenitude of her powers, He has sent her a new mission. May He give her strength to fulfill it. May He give her people wis-dom and make her leaders to see the right path: And then, as we turn our eyes towards the future, with senses sharpened by patriotic fervor, we may catch the first glimpse of her shining forth supreme in that glorious company of nations when right shall have become might and the sense of human brotherhood filled all men's souls; and as we strain our ears to listen we may hear, mingled with the triumphal music of might and power, and rising far above it, the clear, pure note of a simple entreaty, the voice of the people lifted on high with that of the poet, to the ' 'God of our fathers, known of old Lord of our far-flung- battle line, Beneath whose awful hand we hold Dominion over palm and pine, Lord God of Hosts be with us yet Lest we forget! Lest we forget!" «9£, "While words of learned length and thundering sound Amazed the gazing rustics round; And still they gazed and still the wonder grew That one small head should carry all he knew." —GOLDSMITH. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 41 OUR DEMOCRACY WM. H. HETEICK, of Gettysburg [Second Prize] YV7E feel honored, as a people, in that good favor and for- " tune which makes us citizens of the American republic. We exult in the privileges which that citizenship affords. We rejoice in the liberty that gives us equal chances with all for the highest and noblest attainments in life. In short, we would be none but Americans. Were we Germans, we might challenge the world for a refor-mation. Were we Frenchmen, we might extol with pride the merits of an eventful revolution. Or, were we Englishmen, we might look with pleasure on a long line of illustrious rulers, or boast of universal dominion over the seas, or of lands on whose soil the sun never goes down. But we are Americans. We hold up but a century and a quarter of history, but where is its equal? Our part in the world movement was the founding of the people. To found the people. What an aim! To vindicate their honor! To make them free! Ours was the revolution on whose fate hung the human race. It was a conflict between man and king—a people in battle against the tyranny of the whole past. Here was born civil liberty that lifts the yoke of oppression from a subju-gated world. Ah! Here on our own battle-field was struck the blow that annihilated slavery, which for fifty centuries darkened civilization with inhuman crime. Our boast is not of territory. The sun sets every evening over our land, but it throws its golden light on a free and independent people, subject to none but their God, and held and maintained by a constitution that receives the approbation of the world. Our exultation is in the principles of our government; our joy in their beneficent results. Democracy is our nation's honor; manhood the integrity of our people. Manhood—the keystone in the arch of our republic. Manhood—that which Rome with all her strength could never develop, nor Greece, with all her depth of thought, conceive. MANHOOD, that gave Germany her refor-mation, but not strong enough to make her free; that once made England a republic, but too weak to give her equal rights. No! Europe could never develop it. The nearest she came to it was the Puritan and him she drove, exiled, beyond the sea. Away 42 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY from custom and the iron grip of centuries; beyond the despotism of monarchs and aristocracies ; on the water-edge of-an unknown continent it found a home, and on that continent it established an ideal government for man, our own republic. We, the people of that republic, sit this day in our own purple, with no master but our conscience, our reason, and our God. Beneath us lies the dark past of conflict, breaking its troubled waters against the mountain of our democracy. The step to a throne has been taken and the destiny of man is sealed. We stand at last where kings have never stood; with no equal in the world; with tyranny at our feet and the eternal sunshine of progress on our heads. In our hands no diamond-studded sceptre; but an in-vincible ballot. On our heads the crown of an inalienable right. Here equality brings the triumph of humanity, the problem of the ages. We give man his rights and in less than two centuries he builds a nation. We make him his own master and he conquers his own self. We give him room for genius and he becomes a Garfield and a Lincoln. Accident and favor no more usurp the place of honor. The wreath of victory is placed on the man who can, be he the favored son of fortune or the poor, obscure peasant from the cabin-home. It is democracy—manhood crowned—that makes us truly great. To destroy that there must be a power greater than the people's and deeper than the soul's. To take away from the people their God-given rights is to make the world an enigma and the hope of man a dream. No! The people rise and with them the world. Creation moves towards its inevitable goal with our own democracy in the lead. One by one the nations fall in line, moving to no martial strain, but to the music of peace, goodwill to mankind. Yonder in the clear light of the future stands the cross of Christ, in which the kingdoms of this world become the kingdoms of the Lord, and around which shall gather the nations all, unfurling their banners "in the Parliament of Man, the Feder-ation of the World." «8^ "The object of oratory alone is not truth, but persuasion. —MaCaulay. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 43 THE DREAM OP THE AGES ARTHUR L. CROSSLEY, of Lafayette [Honorable Mention] 'T'HE centuries roll on and on. Nations come and go. But *■ great principles and truths never cease their onward progress. Slowly and quietly they make their way among the peoples, but surely as the eternal God from whom they spring. Such was the principle of religious liberty, forbidden and restrained by the pre-judices and customs of all the past, the first flame kindled in the heart of Luther, then spread throughout Germany and Europe to England and across the sea. Born of the theses nailed on the church at Wittenberg, grown among such convulsions of war and carnage as even Europe had never known before, the principle at last triumphed and the soul of man stood forth free to worship the God of its choice. Such was the growth of political freedom. We see the first faint gleamings of the dawn in early Greece and Rome. But the stormy clouds of the dark ages sweep before our gaze for a thou-sand years. With Magna Charta comes a rift in the darkness. Strong-hearted Englishmen rise in their might and Albion's Isle is free. But for a hundred years, continental Europe still lay in abject slavery at the feet of despots. Suddenly the terrible storm breaks on the vine-clad hills of France. The reign of terror is abroad in the land. Peasant and regal blood alike flow freely, and every brook and rill runs crimson to the sea. When at last the clouds are cleared away, the divine right of kings is a thing of the past, despotism is forever dead, and already we see across the waters the goddess of liberty, whose scepter shall rule the world. The work of the German monk is done. The task begun by Pym and Hampden is finished. The principles of religious and political freedom are proclaimed throughout the earth. But I think, perchance, I see another great principle at work among the peoples. I hear the great heart of humanity throbbing and beat-ing under its mighty impulse. Implanted in the breast of earliest man, it remained for the present age to see it take root and quicken into life. A spark kindled from the great altar of Truth, it has lain smouldering in the human heart through all the centuries. But the great social principle is at work in the world to-day as never before. It is the great force which is to-day shaping the 44 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY course of events. But little more than a century ago and there was not a nation under heaven in which slavery was forbidden. But, behold, England's air grows too pure for the slave to breathe; the shackles fall from the negroes of the southland; the serfs of Russia walk in freedom. "Tis but the first ripening grains of that harvest which is yet to be. 'Tis but the glimmering stars of the morning which foretell the coming of the sun. Go, read the workings of this great principle in the mighty movements of the past century, in the extended suffrage of our land, in the history of the Rockdale pioneers, in the great secret societies of our age, in the present attitude of the Christian Church, all unite in one mighty strain, the Brotherhood of Man. But as society more fully realizes the great bonds which unite man to man, as the flame of truth grows brighter and brighter, men more clearly see the injustice which surrounds them on every side. The scales fall from their eyes. They behold an age of such marvelous labor-saving inventions as a century ago the boldest imagination would not have dared to dream of. But never has the lot of the toiler been harder. Never have his ranks num-bered so many of the children of our land. They behold a nation groaning beneath the burden of its wealth, whose fields are wav-ing with yellow harvests, whose granaries are bursting with golden grain. Yet in the very midst of these greatest accumula-tions of wealth, there are homes of direst poverty, and children that hunger and freeze. They behold a civilization, the most wonderful of all the aeons of time. But its course is strewn with the wrecks of humanity, its foundation stones are red with the blood of man. But seek a deeper meaning in thy book of truth, in the Utopi-an literature of Bellamy and Morris in the mighty trades-unions with their cry of "labor against capital," in the air ever rife with the curses and threats of the striker; yea, go breathe it in the fra-grance of those flowers that bloom on the graves at Homestead and Lattitner. The great social principle is at work in the world, and has been from Babylon down. But never have its notes of warn-ing sounded so plainly in the ears of all who listen. The silent toilers of the ages have at last begun to know the great wrongs which are being done under the veil of law and necessity, and they are determined to right them, even by that greater wrong, the strike and the riot. The principle is at work in the hearts of THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 45 men. We see it in the struggling, starving masses of our great cities, in the discontented workers in our factories and furnaces. The threatening murmur grows louder and louder, until but a few months ago, the hills and valleys of our own fair state echoed and re-echoed, rumbled and thundered with the angry cry and fearless demand of such an army of toilers, in solid and united ranks, as never before in an industrial crisis, has blocked the wheels of progress. The toilers of earth have at last realized their strength, and they are demanding that which by justice has ever been theirs. They have turned on their oppressor and ask, "Who made thee a task-master over us? Why shall thy children have a plenty and more than enough while our little ones go a-hunger-ing?" The toilers are waiting their answer. The appearance of a new truth or principle among men ever means a change in the great social organization. It is only a question whether society shall gradually and in due time adjust itself, and it shall only be a reformation, or whether it shall repress the changes which the growing principle makes necessary, until they shall suddenly break forth in a revolution. Ambition and power have been repressing the changes in tlae organization of society which this growing social principle has made necessary, and for this cause is labor arrayed against capital, and there are strikes and riots and bloodshed. Build your roads of iron and your bridges of steel. Harness the steam and the mighty Niagara. Delve deep into the heart of earth and search the infinite with thy telescope. Bring forth the atom of matter and circle the globe with thy lightning. But, im-portant as all these are, there is yet a greater task before the American manhood of to-day—to solve the great social problems which are pressing on every hand, to put an end to this fraternal strife which threatens, to stay the floods of discontent which are slowly gathering their mighty waters, to quench the fires of an-archy which are kindling in every city and village, to fell this cruel giant of oppression who is trampling out the souls of men. Is the task too great ? Falter not, for we have in our sling one sure stone, even justice. By this shall we accomplish our mighty work, put an end to this tyranny of man over man, let no longer one man possess that which belongs to all, but recognize the equal rights of every man to the bounties of nature, the free blessings of heaven and the rich heritage of all the past. This is 46 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY what justice demands and the working men of to-day are seeking. And it is because we have trampled on these great principles of right, because the opportunities of life have not been thrown open to all alike, but it has been for some to sow and for others to reap, for this cause are the stormclouds gathering on the horizon of time and the laborers are marshalling their forces. The call comes to finish the work begun by Garrison and Lin-coln, to strike down the oppressor of men and forever loose the bonds of slavery which still linger, to wipe out the stain of that southern legislature's recent action, and to make the pages of our own state yet fairer, to rescue the childhood and daughters of our land from the curse of such lives as that of the factory, that life which to-day, ere the bloom ot youth hath appeared, stamps disease on thin pale faces, hopelessness and ignorance on their young lives, and forever brands vice and immorality on their in-nocent souls. We plead not for the men, they are strong. We plead for the helpless childhood of our land, for the fathers and mothers of the years to come. Shield them from the curses which blight. I,et not the gates of the factory and the depths of the mine shut then* from the opportunities of life. Else in the after years they shall know the great wrong which has been done, their hearts shall grow bitter within, and their lives shall become sources of evil and anarchy. "For the child's sob in the silence curses deeper Than the strong- man in his wrath." Go, conquer the isles of the sea. Carry thy commerce to the uttermost parts of the earth. Gather the riches of the nations in thy garners. Wear thy purple robe, knit with the life threads of youth. Drink thy sparkling wine, tinged with the heart drops of childhood. But remember, our brothers, the toilers, are journeying to meet us among the rock-bound hills of Gilead. Wronged through all the centuries, they have not forgotten that stolen blessing. L,et us not delay, but haste to see that these great labor problems are solved, that justice is done in the land, and that brother is reconciled unto brother. Else, behold, these toilers of earth shall rise up and become a very Samson in our land,—nay, even now they are rising—and in their wrath shall they bow themselves and the pillars of state shall tremble and fall at their might. It needs no Daniel to read God's handwriting on those pages THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 47 of the past. The great social principle must prevail in the end. Whether it come by peace or by a Reign of Terror, whether by the mounts of Gilead where the sons of Isaac met, or by Pharsalia, whether thy brother's anger shall be appeased or he shall rise in his wrath and strike thee down, I know not. But come it will as sure as the fountains of eternal truth and justice. And when at last this great principle shall have prevailed among men, and there shall have been effected in society those changes which the growing light of truth and intelligence has made necessary, when the fertile Canaan of life's opportunities shall have been thrown open to all alike, then and then only will the race of man have taken one more step up the incline of true progress and we shall have come a little nearer to that "Dream of the Ages," that time of which the prophets have foretold, and the poets have sung, that day when the stranger shall see in the stranger his brother, when man shall no longer rise on his fellow-man, but united by the bonds of brotherhood, they shall together mount the heights of progress and achievement. «^ THE MAN WITH THE HOE HOWARD E. SHIMER, of Muhlcuberg- \ RIGHTEOUS discontent has ever been the dynamic force ** making for social uplifting,—the sign manual of progress. It is the men who have been discontented with wrong and oppres-sion that have carried on the great agitations of the world, and have made history. Wilberforce and Howard, Thomas Paine and Samuel Adams, Garrison and Phillips were all men profoundly discontented with the wrongs inflicted upon their fellow men; and from their discontent came the spark that lit the altar-fire of liberty. Were Millet's "Angelus" before us while reading Edwin Markham's "The Man with the Hoe," we would be inclined to revolt against nature's apparent injustice. Millet has painted the man with the hoe in colors; Edwin Markham, in words. He is a digger of the earth, bowing his back and breaking the clods. He stands as a type, the honest and honorable representative of those whose lot it is, and must always be, to perform the hard uninspir-ing and soul-crushing labors of mankind. He was seen of old 48 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY among the brick-makers of Egypt, among the millions who lifted wearily the walls of Ilium; who carved the pillars of Karnak and paved the Appian way. To-day he may be seen with a needle in a New York sweat-shop, with a pick in a West Virginia coal mine, with a hod in a London alley, with a spade on the banks of the Zuyder Zee. The manual laborer of to-day is far more discontented with his environment than were his progenitors. This discontent does not imply that his condition has degenerated. It is rather a sign of progress from the status of the mere burden bearer to that of the thinking and responsible social unit. The leaven of educa-tion has worked through the mass—all too imperfectly it may be —and fermentation is still going on. As the reed, breathed upon by the great god Pan, could become no more "a simple reed by the river," so it is no longer possible for the man with the hoe, into whose soul has come the conception of larger liberties and a wider life, to accept with dull and passive content the lot of his forefathers. Much depends upon the point of view from which this man with the hoe is considered. When beheld through the windows of a Fifth Avenue palace, the objective universe takes on a different aspect to that which it assumes when seen from an East-side tene-ment house. The counting house and the sweatshop generate two distinct philosophies of life. The sympathetic spirit may be aroused by the thrilling tale of the sailor's ship-wreck, the miner's entombment, or the slow starvation of the sweater's slave; but only those who must bear the brunt of these industrial tragedies can realize to the full the horrors of the black waves, the poison of the fire-damp, and the howls of the hungry wolf at the door. Sometimes it is a tyrant, forgetful of this brunt, who oppresses; sometimes it is an aristocracy which gathers in the fruits of power and throws upon the masses the burdens of government; sometimes it is a plutocracy which openly exalts money and debases flesh and blood; but everywhere it is the same brutal spirit which ig-nores the brotherhood of man. He was a veritable Columbus in the world of sociology who made the discovery that there is a good deal of human nature among men. The man with the hoe may justly claim to possess his modicum of human nature. With Shakespeare's usurer, he may exclaim: "If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 49 us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die?" The laborer is a man, claiming a man's share of life; and the questions which most directly affect him can be best considered from the standpoint of manhood rather than from that of classhood. But it is this very breadth of vision that is the most difficult of attainment. The increase of the class sense is rapid. Even the constant attrition going on under democratic institutions does not serve to keep it in check. Plato's saying that "every city holds two nations, the rich and the poor," has in it only too much truth. The Optimist, however, sees thatthe standards of humanity are being more and more upheld by the masses, who occupy that social stratum which lies between the dark despair of the Sub-merged Tenth and the gilded idleness of the Elevated Four Hundred. The literary sycophants who strew rhetorical flowers in the pathway of the successful, without inquiring into the methods employed for procuring success, complacently throw the respon-sibility for the present condition of the man with the hoe upon God, or Nature, or the man himself. Is it the fault of God or Nature that children are driven into factories at so early an age that their bodies are stunted, their minds dwarfed and the strength and usefulness of future generations impaired? Is God or Nature responsible for the laws which permit this impairment of the man-power and the woman-power of the nation? The indolent cannot expect plenty under any just form of government; neither can the vicious expect happiness. But, let us see whether something can not be done to alleviate effectually the painful inequalities of the conscientious employee as compared with his employer, and whether philosophy can not be led from the closet and religion from the altar, and made to exert a united, a practical, and an all-powerful influence upon the affairs of men. Give justice to everyone—justice in the making of the laws, justice in the interpretation of the laws, justice in the execution of the laws,—justice first and charity afterward. But questions of detail and method constitute, after all, but a comparatively unimportant part of our problem. The great thing is, that the mass of the community shall be capable of self-govern-ment. Theologies and governments alike are but the replica of the human minds back of them. Michael Augelo may conceive SO THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY heaven-reaching lines of grace; but to erect the stately edifice there must be suitable material. So, the question of the industrial welfare of the American laborer merges into the broader question of the triumph or the failures of the democratic idea upon which the American Republic is founded. Political equality and industrial inequality can not long co-exist. In our republican institutions work the ferment of the ages and the leaven of all nations. Kings may prop up their thrones with bayonets; but democracy must rest upon in-telligence. The greatest danger which confronts our republic is the grow-ing antagonism between classes. The poor will never again be the passive sufferers of bygone ages. Their indictment of social injustice is drawn and presented. "Bitter voices say it," writes Ruskin, "voices of battle and famine throughout all the world, which must be heard." The test is at hand which is to prove whether the sneers of Macaulay and Carlyle against the republic were false or founded upon truth. It is easier by far to preach the gospel of rights than to teach the law of the comprehension of duty; for the latter demands a well-disciplined and well-devel-oped intellect. We know that it is said, iu palliation of the restrictive influence of plutocracy, that the condition of the man with the hoe is as good as he deserves. We know that it would be useless and per-nicious to call upon the half-savage and brutalized peasantry by electing them to Congress or the State Legislature. We know that the man with the hoe is unfit for it, that is the very curse of the system. What is it that unfits him? What is it that makes slavish labor, and slavish ignorance, and slavish stupidity his necessary heritage? Does not the same Aryan blood course through his veins? Has he not five senses, the same faculties, the same passions? When every true American realizes that the Almighty knows no class distinctions; when the lessons of truth and purity which have been inculcated in our Christian homes, will be applied to the man with the hoe; when religion and labor will go hand in hand; when none but the bravest and most loyal citizens dare sway the employer's sceptre, all signs of decay will be buried into oblivion and we shall have a nation too noble to crumble, too great to be conquered. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 51 WAR IN THE LIGHT OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY EDWARD E. KELLEY, of Ursinus '-pHE military power of Europe has become a matter ot vital *■ importance. She is virtually arm-crushed. Her armies are devouring her very substance, depleting the national treas-uries, and changing the established social and political con-ditions. With the unsettled state of China, the increase of arma ments and navies and the attitude of a people cursed by taxation and conscription, Europe cannot remain forever a vast, hostile camp. The rivalries of England and Russia and the antipathies of the Frank and the German threaten to "turn loose the dogs of war'' to prey upon humanity for their self aggrandizement. Under existing conditions war must come. Such is the verdict of history as she points the finger of warning to Rome and Carthage. A condition of affairs like this, however, has no place in the midst of the liberty, the intelligence, the happiness and the morality of our age. When war thus threatens to rush the nations headlong into a "roaring conflagration of anarchies," then war disdains the spirit of the age, mocks the God-like reason within man, and becomes "the living and triumphant relic of barbarism." Not only Europe but the civilized world demands that this in-stitution, by which so few rights have been gained, which could not have been achieved without it, be brought before the bar of reason. For this institution has committed the greatest crimes recorded on the pages of history in blasphemy of that which is holiest; in the name of liberty, fraternity and equality, the French Revolution raised a gigantic monument whose brick was the flesh of Frenchmen and whose mortar was the heart's blood ot France. True, some wars have been productive of a lasting good. Europe purchased liberty of mind by the death of six million crusaders; religious liberty was the outgrowth of the Thirty Years' War; the French Revolution broke the iron chains of despotism; this, our own glorious union, had its birth in war. It were a grievous pity, however, if such a blasting institution had not done some good. The most lasting benefit may be the result of the worst evil, and on the other hand, "the purest, holiest and noblest virtue may be devoted to a useless cause." But the blighting and accursed results of war everywhere predominate. Civiliza-tion was retarded one hundred years, as a consequence of the THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY Thirty Years' war. The civil wars in England and France delayed it for similar periods. Above all, man is to be governed not by material but by moral standards. There is no doctrine more abusive to the human understanding than that we ma}' do evil that good may come. There is another sentiment—"sublime, sacred, insurmountable, indestructible, eternal—the sentiment of right." Let no advocate of war presume on the dead past as a criterion for the breathing, ever living present. Political and economic conditions have changed since George the III; absolutism is a thing of the past; the object of the crusades is now the noble mission of the press. Oh! how incompatible with the age is this institution of war. We, the heirs of all the ages, look with sympathy on the barbaric past, and still we train legions of men to the profession of murder; we speak of a higher civilization amidst the ruin of our home, the shriek of the widow and the cry of the orphan which our cruelty has made. We boast of a common brotherhood of man, and yet we grasp our fellow by the throat and stifle the very life that God gave him! The fact that our own nation recently drove despotism from the shores of this west-ern continent and broke the shackles of an oppressed people is no justification of war. It was a glorious work. And she but made use of a recognized agent which is maintained by the interests and prejudices of powerful nations. The stigma lies not on the noble work of the Republic; but upon the age which upholds this bloody relic of the past in domination over reason; for this age, while it makes the individual abide by a trial of reason, is so inconsistent as to allow the nations, groups of individuals, to be ruled merely by their lust for conquest. Let us not, I beseech you, deceive our-selves. For this institution of war to have a mission, our religion, which teaches love to one's neighbor, must be false; philosophy, which teaches the irrationality of brute force, belies itself, and man, who professes to acknowledge standards of morality and justice, is a base and unworthy hypocrite. Vain and delusive is the theory of the survival of the strongest —of the right of one civilization to crush another out of existence. Our universe is a natural one, and its units can only grow from step to step through the continuous process of natural law. Where-ever nations have attempted to usurp the place of nature by in. troducing untimely changes, inevitable and dreadful reaction has THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 53 followed. History is replete with the baneful results of coercion. Such a theory binds only the jungle. When applied to man, fash-ioned in the Divine image and sweeping onward, ever onward to the realization of his ideal, it prostrates the native dignity of his manhood in the dust. The triumph of the stronger is not the triumph of justice. O, strange Justice, which is ever on the stronger side. "Truth forever on the scaffold, wrong forever on the throne." Tell me, when Poland, noble and heroic Poland, lay crushed and bleeding at the foot of the Muscovite, was the triumph of the stronger the better? Who of us is certain in his heart that force is accomplishing a purpose in South Africa? Read in the history of Ireland another living witness against the iniquity and injustice of war. Truly, justice depends upon reason and not upon the sword, and man, "the sovereign animal of crea-tion," cannot be molded like clay. We have reached that stage in the world's progress when the restriction of force will be conducive to the advancement of civ-ilization; when co-operation must replace destructive competition. Before this growing love of humanity man must acknowledge his fellow as a natural as well as a social and political unit. Before this growing love of humanity war becomes a crime. From amongst the ruin, bloodshed, and carnage of the battle-field, the soul, startled, shrinks from its shattered body to wing its flight heavenward ':o record its destruction. Do you not think that God, the great sovereign of nature, will demand the right of its deviation from that purpose for which the laws of nature and of nature's God created it? By what right do we rush this being, its heart fermenting with evil passions, with curses upon its lips, un-called into the presence of an offended deity? How will we in judgment before the tribunal of the Most High, free ourselves from our responsibility for its condemnation? How will we an-swer the shivered, wrecked and ruined legions—the once glorious and God-like representatives of a mighty universe standing hand to hand .witnesses before the Eternal King against us? Is it through the plea that we desired the territory belonging to another? Is it through the false argument that we wished to substitute our higher civilization for a lower? The rise and fall- of nations means less to God than the loss of this one soul—this soul, which, as Cato says, "secured in her existence, smiles at the drawn dagger and defies its point. The stars shall fade away, the sun himself grow dim S4 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY with age, and nature sink in years, but thou shalt flourish in im-mortal youth, unhurt amidst the war of elements, the wrecks of matter and the crush of worlds." When all is considered we find that man is bound to his fellow not through mere ties of blood, but by the sacred ties of his own divine nature. A condition of affairs like the present which ig-nores this hallowed link of a common Fatherhood strikes at the very vitals of Christian idealism. The maintenance of war, this relic of primitive man, on the plea of its antiquity is unjustifiable. History is a mute witness to the fact that all human institutions have their day, that once they have ceased to be of utility they must either be forgotten or destroyed. "There is no question without an answer; no problem without a solution." War and "man's inhumanity to man has made countless thousands mourn." Man introduced inequalities and wrongs upon this earth; honor de-mands that by him they must be righted. Duty calls to everyone of us to array himself on the side of humanity. Let others sing of the flag and country, I plead for this growing love of humanity which will elevate and purify patriotism. Let others chant the martial music of war, I hear the cries which have risen midst the ruins of the world's battle fields; from the homes of those who have shed the rich, ripe blood of their manhood in behalf of military glory; from the millions who have been robbed of their liberties; from the millions throughout the broad universe who have been ruthlessly sacrificed to the cause of nations. Oh, we have had enough,of bloodshed! Let us blot it from our lives, and I appeal to you, representatives of our civilization, to cast your in-fluence wherever you can, against this hideous relic of barbarism. Remembrance implores you by the sorrow-tensioned chords of memory; from every blood-stained battle-field the commingled ashes of the dead entreat you; humanity cries out to you in the mute persuasion of her fallen greatness, and heaven adjures you in the dying agonizing voice of a crucified God: Thou shalt not plant the brand of Cain upon the brow of man! >*> ««£> " Eloquence is the appropriate organ of the highest personal energy.''—Emerson. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURi 55 ■ INTERNATIONAL ARBITRATION TO SATISFY NATIONAL HONOR JAMHS N. DOWNEY, of Lehig-h HPHE establishment of an international tribunal to which all * disputes between nations, that cannot otherwise be adjusted, should be referred has been the dream of philosophers and states-men for ages. That this has not been accomplished, proves that civilization has not advanced sufficiently to enable nations to set-tle their differences except by resort to arms. In the dawn of civilization we find, even in judicial processes, a mixture of forcible contention, showing the transition from a period when rights were regulated by the strong hand. In later years, however, there has been some progress in settling disputes between nations and the principle that human reason is capable of settling differences as well as creating them has been established. The past century was ushered in in the midst of a period of destructive wars and its history contains the records of many bloody conflicts. Nevertheless, it has witnessed the growth of the practice of international arbitration to satisfy '' National Honor." This method has been shown to be broad and far-reach-ing, and while in some instances the award has been set aside or not enforced, in no case have two nations gone to war after hav-ing agreed to arbitrate a difference. The first experience of this nation in settling disputes was the Jay Treaty with Great Britain in 1794. While this treaty was not satisfactory and by no means popular with the American people it is our initial step in the paths of arbitration. Washing-ton alone, while not approving of the treaty, stood up for it and signed it. In so doing he exhibited his firmness of character, good judgment, and foresight. And when he said "My objects are to prevent war, if justice can be obtained by fair and strong representations of the injuries which this country has sustained at the hands of Great Britain," he at once struck the key-note of arbitration. Since the Jay Treaty there have been twenty distinct arbitrations between the two great English speaking nations of the world, Great Britain and the United States, of which the Behring Sea dispute is the latest example. The greatest settle-ment was that of the "Geneva Award" in regard to the Alabama claims and it demonstrated that arbitration between nations was possible. This was a grave question and involved the honor 01 S6 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY England and the United States, yet by temperate and wise dis-cussion, it was brought to a peaceful adjustment, and, as has wisely been said, "Two great and powerful nations, gaining in wisdom and self-control and losing nothing in patriotism and self-respect, taught the world that the magnitude of a controversy need not be a bar to its peaceful solution and the maintenance of national honor." When the conference at the Hague was called by the Czar in 1899, the suggestion was greeted with sneers and suspicion on the part of many, with enthusiasm by a few and by most with a shrug of the shoulders. The majority of the delegates attending had vague ideas concerning arbitration and its extent. Russia, the leader of the movement, was the greatest surprise of all. She thought arbitration should be made obligatory except where honor and vital interests were involved. Honor and vital interests are always shadowy things in the hands of the statesmen, and, more-over, can be shown to exist in any dispute that may arise. The conference found the idea of disarmament too fanciful and the limitation of armament to its present strength premature. Dis-armament should follow and not precede arbitration. The real obstacle in the way of arbitration is not so much the lack of efficiency in method as the lack of disposition to try it, and the system of arbitration presupposes that nations desire an amicable adjustment of their differences. Such settlement may be prevented, either by wilful opposition to it, by claims that render argument impossible, or by some covert act on the part of one of those concerned. It is difficult, if not impossible, to con-tend against a situation like this, since the direct tendency and effect is to bring on a collision before arbitrators can intervene. History affords many examples of aggressive wars or wars of ambition where national honor was not concerned; but happily they are now becoming less frequent. The remedy against such wars was suggested in the unratified treaty of arbitration adopted in 1890 by the Pan-American Conference. It was proposed to adopt a principle of international law, and to make it imperative that diplomatic and consular controversies and any disputes what-soever between nations, except cases in which, in the judgment of one of the parties concerned, its independence was at stake, should be settled by arbitration. The object of this was to leave each nation the right of self defense, while forbidding any to - THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 57 commit aggression. Again, at the conference at Hague, these resolutions were revived and vigorously pushed by Great Britain and the United States. Great generals have shown their abhorrence of war. Well-ington said, "Nothing except a battle won can be half so melan-choly as a battle lost." General Grant, speaking of arbitration and national honor, said, "Though I have been trained as a soldier and have taken part in many battles, there was never a time, when in my estimation some way could not have been found to prevent the drawing of the sword." The characters of the men who govern nations and to whom the honor of their country is entrusted, shape the events that fol-low. If they are wise and honorable, then their country will be peaceful and prosperous. If they are impulsive, self-seeking, and unreasonable, then their country will suffer. Our republic, guided and directed by this spirit, has done more for the cause of international arbitration than any other country in the world. Its purpose has been the enlargement of the individual, the advancement of his interests and liberties, and finally, to administer justice to all. The question of peace and the satisfaction of national honor is one which may not be settled for generations. It is one, how-ever, which this and every coming generation will have to deal with, and whatever is done the world looks to the United States as a leader. Appreciating this we may close our minds to our ingenious fault-finding and turning our eyes away to the far horizon, we there see the shadowy images of international law and justice and morality dimly visible among the clouds. k "The prodigies which eloquence often works, in the hands of a single man, upon an entire nation, are perhaps the most shining testimony of the superiority of one man over another." —D''Alemberi. 58 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY JOHN RUSKIN—THE MAN ' WM. L. HESS, of Swarthmore JOHN RUSKIN has said, 'All my theories are summed up in *-* the line of Wordsworth, 'We live by admiration, hope and love.' Not admiration of ourselves, nor hope for ourselves. Love can be only of others; self-love is a contradiction of terms." Truly, a noble utterance from a man of intense earnest-ness and commanding sincerit3r. Search where you will, there can be found no character who commands more genuine respect and whose personality has been more general than that of the practical thinker, the late John Ruskin. His was a life of genius, enthusiasm and self-devotion. To read him is to admire him; and to admire him is to admire that which is sincere, pure and poetic. John Ruskin was born in London, England. Unlike the fathers of many of our celebrities, his father was a man of affluence, his shrewdness in business, that of a wine merchant, being the means of his acquiring a fortune early in life. We are told that the elder Ruskin was of a visionary nature when away from his shop, and that he spent his evenings in reading Shakespeare and in singing. The mother was a woman of great severity. One of the tasks which she imposed upon her son until he was fourteen years of age was that of committing many and long passages from the Bible. The influence of this early teaching was manifold. His writings teem with Biblical quotations and imagery. We do not find in Ruskin's early life any of those amusements which are so common to boyhood. He was not in any way in-dulged, and if he committed a fault the usual penalty was sure to follow. These restrictions made his boyhood unattractive and uninteresting. Yet there was developing in this quiet and reserved child a genius which was destined to astound the world. At the age of eleven years he is discovered successfully copy-ing the etched illustrations by George Cruikshank, to Grimm's '' Fairy Tales." It is true that as an etcher he showed slight pro-ficiency, but this early performance is evidence that he had the power to become mighty in something although it happened not to be in etching. After having received a preparatory training under the direc-tion of tutors, Ruskin was sent to Oxford, where he was graduated at Christ Church College. His college life was uneventful, and of his life at Oxford he relates, "It seemed to me all that was re- I THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 59 quired of me was to say my prayers, go to church, learn my les-sons, obey my parents and enjoy my dinner." Like the unfolding of a beautiful, delicately perfumed flower which gradually opens its petals to God's genial sunshine was the unfolding of the life and character of the nineteenth century prophet, John Ruskin. The tempest of criticism beat about him; the fierce winds of doubt, greed and envy tried by their piercing blasts to cast him to the dust; but, like the flower, he remained steadfast and pure—beautiful in his constancy. He held that 'his mission in life was to proclaim the beauties in the works of others—not his own." Did he fulfill his mission? Ask that stu-dent of art who received his first impressions from Ruskin ! Did he fulfill his mission ? Turn to that student of architecture who owes to Ruskin what skill he possesses, and ask if his master ful-filled his mission ! Ask that lecturer or preacher who uses such choice rhetoric in his discourses, that lecturer or preacher who has read Ruskin ! Ask that social reformer who has studied Rus-kin's ideas and method of reform as he saw them in others but which he idealized and made his own; yes, ask that question of all, and the artist, the architect, the lecturer and preacher, and the social reformer will candidly answer, John Ruskin did fulfill his mission, he did perform those duties which he claimed he would perform; and, sir, the world to-day is better because there has lived in it a man who not only promised, but one who also acted out his promises in word and in deed. Ah! a great and good man has gone out from our midst. The physical form of our lamented Ruskin has left us, but the influence of his Christian life remains. And this influence will remain as long as the world endures, and future generations will appreciate Ruskin as we have failed to do. Criticism will be heard no more; but the melody of his language; his grand prophetic visions will be enjoyed by all! Pre-eminently was Ruskin a nature-worshipper. He loved the flowers, the brook, the mountains, and the fleecy clouds. To him the wayside rose preached more eloquently than words the lessons of purity and simplicity, and to sit for hours watching the fitful changing of the skies was to him a perfect delight. His soul stirred within him, he could exclaim with Shakespeare: 60 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY "Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadow green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy." We should study Ruskin, for, by so doing, our faculty of appreciation for nature will be opened. We will more deeply value the small things which lie about us on life's pilgrimage. The tiny blade of grass will arouse new thoughts within us. The dainty Quaker-lady will teach us the lesson of humility as it has never before been taught; even the seemingly unsightly stones which are strewn along our path possess a language too deep for words. An editor of note has lately said, "Work is for the worker." To no one does this more aptly apply than to John Ruskin. Many of his well-defined theories for the betterment of the working classes, and for the uplifting of humanity in general may appear to have been as seed sown by the wayside, but the time spent in working out his theories only strengthened him for the practical tasks which he so well performed day by day. That which is put into work is surely that which shall be reaped. Put in envy, and discontent and misery shall be the reward, whereas power is the reward of love and patience! Thus it was a practical test of our teacher when he gathered around him that promiscuous band of workmen and children to teach .them the right way of living. After his arduous labor of thirty long years to undertake such a stupendous work was noth-ing less than heroic. Again must we pay honor to this fearless spirit, who needed only to speak, and the intelligence of the world listened with awe! L,eft a fortune by his father, he lavished it upon his chosen people, ignorant and poverty stricken. The quintessence of art, literature, and science was offered to them; and costly museums were founded for their instruction. And this cost him more than his wealth! He paid the price; they reaped the material reward! His was the loss of peace; theirs was the gain of a new life and happiness! But the enterprise was a failure! Failure, did I say? Yes, but a glorious failure; not shorn of any of its benefits, its fame still lives as a blessing to humanity! In its character this enterprise might seem Utopian, but after all deductions have been made there is no discredit to be cast THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 61 upon the memory of John Ruskin, for, bear in mind, he was merely living what he wrote. With his Bible as his lexicon he followed its teachings; followed them although the whole Christian world laughed him to scorn; aye, followed them even after his project had failed! He wrote, "Religion is a submission, not an aspira-tion; an obedience, not an ambition, of the soul," and he lived that religion. His life was a constant submission, a holy obedi-ence to the will of his God, and our God. In his declining years he was rejected; thrust aside by the busy world; but from out his confinement we still heard him proclaim against the evils of the times. In poor health, yet while life lasted he continued to attack the most alluring vices, and preach those "inner virtues" which he held so sacred. There was something awaiting him beyond which was no vanity; all was radiant before him; and on the twentieth of January of the last year of the nine-teenth century the soul of John Ruskin serenely took its flight. . The character of this great benefactor of the whole human race, what is its message to thinking men and women? Simply this, that truth, knowledge, right living, are the basis of growth in man. But there is a sadness in truth! Knowledge has its sorrow! Right living still continues to have its tragedy! The martyred Lincoln wrote the truth in his Proclamation which freed millions in bondage, and his life was the price! The Seeker after knowledge, a Newton or a Darwin, must drink to the dregs the cup of sorrow! A Christ must be led to a Calvary, and there pay the penalty for his spotless life! Upon the monument of Time one more name should be en-graved, that of John Ruskin, and underneath, I would have traced the words, "Prince of Peace." "Those who speak in public are better heard when they dis-course by a lively genius and ready memory than when they read all they would communicate to their hearers."—Watts. "The business of oratory is to persuade people." —Lord Chesterfield. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY Kntertdat the Postoffice at Gettysburg as second-class matter VOL. X GETTYSBURG, PA., APRIL, 1901 No. 2 K. C. RUBY, '02, Editor-in- Chief R. ST. CLAIR POFFENBARGER,' 02, Business Manager J. F. NEWMAN, '02, Exchange Editor AAssi■s,tant. E»dji,tors Advisor'y Board " , ., 0 ,"" PROF. J. A. HIMES, A. M., LIT. D. MISS ANNIE M. SWARTZ, '02 _ " " " ' "' * . " " ,", PROF. G. D. STAHLEY, M. D. A. B. RICHARD,'02 _ . _. _ ' _ PROF. J. W. RICHARD. D. D. Assistant Business Manager CURTIS E. 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Through the kindness of the contestants we are permitted to place before our readers all the orations which were used in the contest, and to the Public Ledger of Philadelphia we owe our grat-itude for the use of the plate in reproducing the photogravure as found on the frontispiece in this issue. We wish to state, how- THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 63 ever, that the defects in the frontispiece are due to the condition of the plate and not that of the printer. Time did not permit of any change. • Having opened a new store opposite W. M. R. R. Depot, will be pleased to have you call and examine goods. Picture Framing promptly attended to. Repair Work a Specialty Students' Trade Solicited FAVOR THOSE WHO FAVOR US. 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PRIZE ESSAY NUMBER. i i ~ JUSTE, 1904 IY6L, XIII. HO. i GETTYSBURG COLLEGE GETTYSBURG, PA. i w. V N. C. UARBKMENH, OCTTTOBUflS II n w i HELP THOSE WHO HELP US. The Intercollegiate Bureau of Academic Costume. Chartered igoz. Cottrell & Leonrard Albany, N. Y. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WWWWWWWWWWWW Makers of Caps, Gowns, Hoods AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA A. B. BLACK, Gettysburg College Representative. Come and Have a Good Shave, E. A. Wright's or HAIR-CUT at Engraving House, Naffy B. SeftOll's 1108 Chestnut St. PHILADELPHIA We have our own photograph gallery for half-tone and photo engraving. Fashionable Engraving and Stationery. Leading house for College, School and Wedding Invitations, Dance Programs, Menus. Fine engraving of all kinds. Before ordering elsewhere com-pare samples and prices. New Tons:)rial Parlor's, 35 Baltimore St. BARKERS' SUPPLIES A SPECIALTY. Also, choice line of fine Cigars. Northwestern Mutual Life Insurance Company, *^ A, L, Menbeck, Agent, COLLEGE. IF YOU CALL ON C. 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Parties visiting quarries will leave cars at Brownstone Station, on the P. & R. R. R. DO YOU NEED PNEY TO GO TO COLLEGE ? [FROM COPYRIGHTED STEREOGRAFH BY UNDERWOOD AND UNDERWOOD] Happy Land of t :e R* staff Sun where Song Unceasing Flows. Stereoscopes * and * Stereographs K\ can furnish it fo.' you during the Summer Vacation, Many New Subjects for this season: Russian-Japanese War, Panama Canal, Balti-more Fire, President Roosevelt, Gettysburg Battlefield: New Comic Series; Stereo-scopic Tours, accompanied by patent maps and interesting descriptive books- Write for particulars- Underwood & Underwood 3 AND 5 W. NINETEENTH ST., COR. FIFTH AVE., NEW YORK. REPRESENTED AT PENN'A COL. BY E- G- HESS- The CDcFGury. The Literary Journal of Gettyburg College. VOL. XIII. GETTYSBURG, PA., JUNE, 1904. No. 4 CONTENTS "DE SAPIENTIAE PROFESSORIBUS "—POEM, . . 128 ANDROMACHE ET DECIDIANA. RUSSIAN AGGRESSION—Pen and Sword Prize Essay, . 130 PAUL B. DUNBAR, '04. A MODERN FAUST, 136 "X. Y. Z.'' SOCIALISM ,137 JOSEPH E. ROWE, '04. THE SABBATH AS A CIVILIZER, 144 Miss HELEN WAGNER, '06. THE COURSE OF THE U. S. GOVERNMENT IN CONNECTION WITH THE PANAMA REVOLUTION, . 146 CHAS. W. HEATHCOTE, '05. A HUNTER OF MEN—POEM, 148 "BRIDGET." .'THE PATH OF DUTY IS THE WAY TO GLORY," . 151 POEM, 154 EDITORIALS 155 EXCHANGES, . 157 w 128 . THE MERCURY. «DE SAPIENTIAE PROFESSORIBUS." ANDROMACHE ET DECIDIANA. HOW dear to our hearts are those days when at college We studied and wept o'er the classics of yore; The Latin, the Greek, and the terrible German, And brain-splitting ''Math" which we used to deplore. To-night as we sit in the glow of our fire-side, And think of those days and the pleasures of old, Our hearts fain would turn to our former professors, Who gave to us learning, much better than gold. The fire burns low in its smouldering ashes, The faces appear that we once knew so well, Some pleasant and jovial, and others more solemn, But of each, in his turn, we will .now try to tell. Oh Muse ! pray be kind and remain standing by us, And give to us freely and with no restraint, That much sought for gift, the true power of description, So each one may know whom we're trying to paint. The first who appears in the fast dying embers, Is one who made culprits shake clear to their toes ; He'd rap on the desk with a frowning expression, And quell all confusion, just how, no one knows. His eyes were as blue as the azure of Heaven, His hair was inclined to a faint auburn shade, His stature was tall, and this mighty Apollo Was reverenced alike by each man and each maid. And now we behold one so tall and so handsome, Who led our young minds 'round the fair walls of Troy, Who oft would propound his fav'rite assertion That 'there should be guardians for maidens so coy.' And next to him standing, a man of small stature, Whom feline protectors all look on with dread; He bears in his right hand a tight-covered basket, Just lift up the cover ! Out pops a cat's head. Our dear 'Roman Senator' now looms before us, As tall as a dignified 'senex' of old. He too bears a basket, but it's full of good things, And as a 'rear guard' he has 'Waggles,' the bold. The next that appears to our far-seeing vision Is one who seemed stern tho' at heart he was ki-nd. His friends the}' were num'rous, his travels were many, But ever to "Dutchland" his heart was inclined. THE MERCURY. 129 Scarce had his form disappeared in the ashes, When two more professors came into our sight. A halo of gas, (H2S), was around them, Which ever had been their fond joy and delight. How often we shivered when into their class-room We went in dread fear that we might not come out. A "fiss" and a "bang" and a "crash" would oft greet us; And then the stern question, "What are you about?" And now comes a face that so quietly greets us, He led 'little boys' in the way they should go. He taught them politeness as well as sound doctrine, And stirred to high ideals instead of to low. And last but not least comes that jolly, good "Sap'ens" Who once taught us "Math" and a great deal beside, For he used to tell all the jokes of the season, And solved weighty problems discussed far and wide. The fire dies out and we sit there reflecting On those pleasant days and our teachers of old, And we would not sell our fond recollections For all the rich treasures the deep sea could hold. And so let us close while the dark shadows gather, Which hide from our vision each loved noble face. We hope they still walk through those fair halls of learning, And for many years yet each may keep his old place. 130 THE MERCURY. " RUSSIAN AGGRESSION." [Pen and Sword Prize Essay.] PAUL B. DUNBAR, '04. THE discussion of a subject of world-wide importance can-not fail to be influenced by preconceived prejudices. It seems to be natural for Americans as a whole to entertain strongly such a prejudice against Russia. This is probably the result of our instinctive sympathy for the weak in a contest with the strong. The attempt will be made in this paper, how-ever, to set forth as impartially as possible the facts of the Rus-sian Advance. Having studied these carefully, Russia's motives will be discussed, and finally the probable results of these ag-gressive movements will be briefly summed up. A glance at the map of Russia, her possessions and spheres of influence, shows over how vast a region the Empire of the North holds sway. From the Baltic on the west to the Sea of Okhotsk and the Behring Sea on the east, the Russian territory extends in an unbroken stretch—five thousand miles of steppes and mountains, rivers and inland seas, burning deserts and bar-ren tundras. On the broad plains of Siberia are sections of wonderful fertility practically undeveloped and in its mountain ranges are untouched stores of boundless mineral wealth. This entire region is subject to the most diverse climatic conditions, seasons of extreme cold alternating with intervals of almost tor-rid heat. Such is the Empire of the Czar, embracing more than one seventh of the land surface of the globe and support-ing a population of one hundred and thirty millions. Today we see the Great Bear reaching out ready to seize in his powerful clutch territory after territory. The stress of pres-ent events draws our attention especially to the Far East. There we see the Muscovite pressing relentlessly upon the territory of China, and now by the test of battle it must be decided whether Korea also shall be Russian. The Far East is not the only object of Russia's advance. Slowly, silently, by stealth of di-plomacy, plans are being laid, forces set to work to widen Asi-atic Russia to the southward. During the last forty years; THE MERCURY. 131 , •% . — Britain has watched with apprehension the southward advance of the Bear toward her Indian border. Never for an instant dare she relax her vigilance against the encroachment of the Czar. Russian advisers ever ready to advance the interests of their master hold the ears of many of the native border princes. But yesterday came rumors of Russian influence in Tibet, of a treaty of that country with Russia, and the presence of envoys in the Tibetan capital whose purpose is to forward Russian in-terests in opposition to those of England. Turkey and the Balkan States feel this powerful hand and Sweden and Norway look with alarm toward the borders of Finland. What is the history of the growth of this giant among nations ? Three hundred and twenty years ago Russia was a small and semi barbarous state whose advance posts were scarcely eight hundred miles east of St. Petersburg. In the closing years of the sixteenth century, however, there came to the throne a ruler distinguished for severity even in that stern age. Ivan the Ter-rible, by the very cruelty of his rule, inaugurated the eastward movement of that Slavic invasion which now after three cen-turies of alternate advance and retreat is now approaching so terrible a crisis. Rebellious subjects of the Czar fleeing from pursuing troops were forced to take refuge in the unknown, frigid wilderness to the eastward. As they retreated, they easily overcame the scattered nomads who inhabited these regions. Then by turning over the conquered territory to Russia, they obtained the pardon of the Czar Ivan. This was the first step —the entering wedge—in Russia's eastward advance. The tide thus setting toward the Pacific flowed on slowly but resist-lessly, unopposed by rival nations, for the region was to them unknown. A century passed and another mighty figure ascended the Russian throne. Under Peter the Great came further aggres-sive expansion. The northern ocean presented an insurmount-able barrier but in other directions the advance continued. Southward the Muscovite ruler forced his way and to the west-ward Sweden and Poland felt the force of Russian aggression. Thus year after year, under ruler after ruler, the slow policy of 132 THE MERCURY. expansion has gone on. Wherever opportunity offered the Great Bear forced his entering wedge. West and south felt the advance, but it was toward the east that he moved most steadily. As has been said, Russia aims to follow the line of least re-sistance. The vast plains of Siberia, frozen in winter, parched in summer, were a part of the world's surface uncoveted by the earth-hunger of Europe. So while other nations fought and wrangled over other portions of the globe, the Empire of the Czar silently absorbed this mighty region. Thus by slow movements or sudden leaps, by treachery or by diplomacy, by fair means^or foul, Russia at last reached the Pacific—the ocean outlet which she has always desired. Here was encountered an unsurmountable difficulty. Russia, having apparently overcome all obstacles in her march to the sea, was now met and held by the strength of perpetual winter. The ice bound harbors of northern Asia were valueless. Warmer waters must be reached and, having come thus far, Russia was not to be baffled. By a sudden, bold move the Amur was made the southern boundary. Then in i860, subtle diplomacy obtained from China the strip of coast upon which is built the port of Vladivostok. It is significant that the name of this city is the Russian phrase for " Control of the East." As a seaport Vladivostok is a vast improvement over Petropaulovsk, the first Russian port in Kamtchatka, but still there is not en-tire freedom from the disadvantages of winter. Russia still hungered for a warm-water port. The Trans-Siberian Railway was built—five thousand miles of single track reducing the in-terval of transit between Moscow and Vladivostok to only fif-teen days. Events now began to move rapidly in the Far E^ast. In 1894, the close of the Chino-Japanese war left Japan in possession of the valuable harbor of Port Arthur. On the plea that the possession of this port by Japan threatened the in-tegrity of China, Russia forced the retrocession of Port Arthur to its original owner. Two years later, a Russian squadron entered this harbor ostensibly to winter there. Ere many months the world was startled to learn that Russia had leased Port Arthur from China. The integrity of the latter country THE MERCURY. 133 seemed no longer a consideration. Immediately came military occupation of the city and the erection of tremendous defensive works. Russia had obtained her warm-water harbor; but was she satisfied ? Between Port Arthur and the Siberian frontier lies the rich Chinese province of Manchuria. In it have settled many native Russians. What could be more natural than that the Great Bear should covet this prize also to make his possessions com-plete? Asa preliminary step, a Chinese concession was ob-tained for shortening the route of the Trans-Siberian Railway to Vladivostok by a line across Manchuria. Russia had at last obtained a foot-hold south of the Amur. The erection of branch lines to the borders of Korea and the very gates of Pe-kin was but a short stride. In every case the right of garri-soning the railroad was included in the concession. In 1900, came the Boxer Rebellion. Its close saw Manchuria held by an immense Russian army of occupation. In concert with the allies, Russia agreed to withdraw from Chinese territory, but months went by and the Manchurian'army lingered., The wily Muscovite concluded a treaty with China providing for the long-promised withdrawal, but it soon became evident that before this would be carried out new concessions were expected. The Russian representative in Pekin even went so far as to demand that all the Manchurian concessions be granted to Russians. This was but one of Russia's diplomatic attempts to gain a controlling voice in Chinese affairs. China, however, was al'ive to the true state of affairs and refused to commit herself to any further agreements. As a consequence, Russia is still in mili-tary possession of Manchuria. Nominally her troops were kept there solely in pursuance of the treaty-right of protecting her railroad interests. In reality, the whole line was turned into an armed camp by the establishment of forts garrisoned by all branches of the Russian army, and today Manchuria is practically a Russian province. • We now reach the final chapter in the history of Russian aggression—final because it brings us to the present time, cer-tainly not because it marks the end of the advance. With hr's 134 THE MERCURY. grip firmly fixed on Manchuria, the Bear now turned a longing eye to the little kingdom of Korea. The possession of this choice bit of the world was now his aim. Even before the Chino-Japanese war Russia was laying her subtle plans to this end. In 1893 or early in 1894, she made a generous present of rifles to the Korean army and even furnished a Russian drill-master to train Korea's seven thousand soldiers in European tactics. At the same time swarms of Russian agents entered the country. The fruit seemed almost ripe for plucking. But now an opponent faced Russia. Japan had long watched this onward march with jealous eye. In this move toward Korea she saw a positive menace to her existence. Nothing remained but to throw down the guage of battle and to begin the contest whose result is being awaited by the entire world. What are Russia's motives and what her ultimate policy ? Her statesmen would have us believe it is a simple one. Says M. Witte, the former chief of Russian finances and now presi-dent of the Committee ot Ministers : " History measures not by years, but by centuries ; and from this point of view, by the building of the Chinese Eastern Railway to Port Arthur and Dalny.a mighty work is completed, a historical problem is solved, and one of the last steps is taken in the advance of Russia to the Far East, in her effort to find an outlet to the open sea, to the ice-free shores of the Pacific ocean." This is indeed Russia's principal object, but its fulfillment means also the control of northern Asia. And since the de-velopment of her railroad policy has done so much already for the advance of Russian territory, there is no reason to believe that it will not be made the occasion of further advance. We have the word of M. Witte that Russia's object is to obtain a warm-water port. This is in the main a legitimate object and has been partly fulfilled by the acquirement of Port Arthur. But it must be remembered that Port Arthur is not wholly a Russian possession. It is, therefore, obvious that the Russian wishes will not be entirely satisfied until that port is Russian beyond a doubt. The same is equally true of the whole pro- THE MERCURV. 135 vince of Manchurfa. Then, too, it is more than probable that the desire is to reserve the acquired territory for Muscovite trade alone. It is true that Dalny is an open port, but Port Arthur is closed and foreign merchants find much difficulty in meeting Russian competition in Manchuria. As a recent writer puts it: The Russian motive may be viewed from two stand-points. Russia herself would have us believe that it is benevo-lent. She is building a railroad through unopened territory, erecting modern cities and valuable mills in the wilderness, and setting up an orderly government in the place of misrule. The outsider acknowledges all this, but what, lie a;ks, will Russia demand in return for these enormous expenditures? The an-swer is apparent. It has already been given. She has the right of protecting her interests and now demands a complete monopoly. Such are Russia's complex motives. What will the outcome be? If Russia be successful in the present contest, will her aggressive plans be concluded without opposition ? Will the world witness the spectacle of Korea and China absorbed or will the Powers step in to fix a limit to further expansion ? If they do so, will their strength be sufficient to restrain the Bear already flushed with victory ? If Russia be vanquished, will the settlement thus arrived at be permanent ? Will little Japan continue to be an efficient barrier, or will returning strength again put in motion the tide setting toward the Orient with overwhelming volume ? Will the gallant Island Kingdom perish or may it look for help to Europe and America? Time alone can bring an answer. Here prophecy has often failed and will fail again, for as has been well said: "Russia's state-craft is not of the months or of the years; it is of the ages. It is not of monarchs, but of a dynasty, and it is less the policy of the dynasty than it is the need of a people and of a land." 136 THE MERCURY. "A MODERN FAUST." (BEING A BIT OF TRUTH MASQUERADING AS NONSENSE.) ONCE upon a time—during the twentieth century—there lived a young man who had been but three years out of college. Having entered the greater University of the World, he had been hailed by his fellow Freshmen as a comrade, had been hazed by Sophomores, patronized by condescending Juniors, and deluged with advice by venerable Seniors, even as he had been in college. But he was a restless and adventure-some youth. The monotony of the office palled upon him, and, for relief, he experimented in Mysticism and Christian Science. One momentous evening he conceived the idea of putting his knowledge to the supreme test, by summoning be-fore him the Prince of Darkness. Thereupon he took down his LeConte and. his Mary Baker Eddy from the shelf and set to work. And in very truth, gentle reader, in less than half the run-ning of an hour glass, Mephistopheles himself stood before him. faultlessly attired in evening clothes—for the red cap and mantle had succumbed to the spirit of progress in Hades even as the simple sins of our forefathers have given place to the more delicately refined and ingenious vices of to-day. But in this one respect was the Devil unchanged. For no sooner had the usual conventionalities been exchanged than lie attempted to purchase the soul of the youth in the most approved man-ner. He showed him visions of fair women, even as he had shown them to the Faust of old. But the youth was unmoved; he smiled and shook his head, for he was a wise youth. And the Devil promised him great riches and power. But the youth, for he was wise, replied, "If these things were worth while, O Lucifer, I could attain at a lesser price, even hard work. It is not enough." T,hen did the Devil promise a most miraculous thing, "For," said he, "if thou wilt give thyself to me, Grover Cleveland and William J. Bryan shall make a truce and be as brothers. Shoulder to shoulder they will fight for thee and nominate thee for the Presidency on the Democratic THE MERCURY. I 37 ticket. Thou wilt be the most talked-of man in the Nation." But the youth, being wise, replied : "Am I not own cousin to the Proprietor of Pennsylvania, and is it not agreed that I shall be the next State Treasurer? And is not this better than to be President, much less a candidate for President mid on the Democratic ticket? Go to, it is not enough." Now the Devil was almost vanquished, but he was also wise and he thought deeply, and he said, "I can then offer thee nothing more than again to make thee a reckless, carefree Sophomore among thy former classmates. Think! Is it not enough?" And the youth meditated within himself; he knew there were no days like those days; he longed again to be carefree and thought-less, recognizing no higher authority than his own sweet will and the majority action of his class; his heart called out for those friends who, too, had dwelt in Arcady. And he replied, "It is enough." For he was a wise youth withal. MORAL—Eat, drink, and be merry, ye Seniors, for to-mor-row ye die. "X. Y. Z." • SOCIALISM. ( Written for the Pen and Sword Prize Essay Contest.) JOSEPH E. ROWE, '04. THE word socialism was first used in 1835 in connection with an organization founded by Robert Owen of Eng-land. This society was given the grandiloquent appellation of the Association of all Classes of all Nations, and its purpose was to secure "Social improvement and reconstruction." Since that time the word socialism has been applied rather incautiously, and,as a consequence, it is an exceedingly difficult word to define with precision. According to some writers there is a growing tendency to regard as socialistic any inter-ference with property undertaken on behalf of the poor, or any measure promoted by society to limit or modify the working of the economic principle of laissez-faire. Roscher defined socialism "as including those tendencies which demand a greater regard for the common-weal than consist with human 138 THE MERCURY. nature." John Raeof our day declares that it is common to describe as socialistic "any proposal that asks the State to do something lor the material well being of the working class, or any group of such proposals, or any theory that favors them." Janet defines it as "every doctrine which teaches that the State has a right to correct the inequality of wealth which ex-ists among men, and to legally establish the balance by taking from those who have too much in order to give to those who have not enough, and that in a permanent manner, and not in such and such a particular case—a famine, for instance, or a public calamity." But these definitions and all others describe only phases of the question. For instance, in order for any measure to be socialistic it need not proceed from the State; it may emanate from individuals just as well; in fact the earliest socialistic measures proceeded from individuals. There was socialism in colonial times when they had a common storehouse from which each one received his equal share of goods; the instituting of a wider system of public schools is a highly socialistic measure ; an equal distribution of profits between two partners, or among the many members of a company is also socialistic; and yet it is just as proper and usual to describe as socialistic the so-called "strikes," or the assassination of million-aires by dynamite. It is, therefore, evident that socialism em-braces a great deal; at the same time, we must remember that all these are only different phases of the same great question. All socialists are alike in attempting to secure a more equit-able distribution of wealth, or in endeavoring to equalize op-portunities for acquiring it; but the salient points upon which they differ are the ways and means of accomplishing their ends. Some maintain that the State, by managing industry and controlling land, could best promote the commonweal; others very emphatically declare that there should be no cen-tral government at all. The more radical of the first class try to get control of the government; those of the latter class en-deavor to destroy it. Unfortunately in the present age the most influential forrfl of socialism is of the most radical and revolutionary character— THE MERCURY. 139 that which desires no government at all. Alexandria II. of Russia and our late President McKinley fell victims to this outrageous doctrine. Nihilism and anarchism are its more specific names. Yet we cannot afford to consider as danger-ous all socialistic measures of today. Upon exactly this prob-lem a great amount of useless discussion has taken place. Politicians of late years have made very effective use of the ambiguity in the word socialism. Whenever an opponent could accuse a candidate for public office, of promoting socialistic measures, no matter how benevolent or beneficial they might have been to the people, the mention of that word together with the prevalent misconception of it in its better sense, was generally the most derogatory charge brought against him in the eyes of the ignorant working classes—the very persons whom worthy socialistic principles would benefit. Although every writer has made his own classification of so-cialists, they all directly or indirectly acknowledge the four following classes: (1) large-hearted and thoroughly benevo-lent men whose feelings have been touched by the unjust op-pression of laborers ; (2) those who are revolting against cruel oppression; (3) those who are discontented with their positions in life, principally because they fail to realize their limitations; (4) the lowest class whose adherents are characterized by a covetous, selfish, and utterly lawless spirit. The first of these classes consists principally of nothing more than ardent sympathizers with the socialistic movement in its better meaning. According to good authority more than a half million of such men are found in the United States. Many ministers of the gospel and other benevolent men as well as the members of philanthropic and humanitarian orgini-zations belong to this class. They sympathize deeply with the oppressed laborer and endeavor to alleviate his misery by every peaceable means. Others of this class" become so impressed with the necessity of social and industrial improvements that they have devoted their lives entirely to the cause. These are quite liable to be-come extremists, and notwithstanding the fact that their inten- 140 THE MERCURY. tions are of the most noble character, more harm than benefit results from their efforts, chiefly because the lower moral and mental capacities of those whom they influence are not vigor-ous enough to prevent the latter from becoming radical, desper-rate, and fanatical. Hall Cane has pictured such a man in his "Eternal City" in the person of Dr. Roselli or of David Rossi, especially in the latter; but the futility and evil consequences of their efforts are also portrayed in a striking manner. It is only natural that there should be such men especially in a Christian nation. When one considers the extremely low wages for which laborers had to work at certain periods of our history, the condition of some of their homes even in our day, the company store and the extortion ot overwork from them by overseers, it is not very strange that large hearted men should bestow their symapthy. No doubt, these conditions have been vastly exaggerated by some writers, but that they exist to a reasonable extent cannot be doubted. The oppressed or those who imagine themselves to be in such a condition, constitute the second class of socialists. Only men who work come properly under this divisicjp; those who become discontented and quit work will be considered later. Labor Unions consist almost entirely of such men; if they suspend labor, it is only temporarily, and is for the purpose of bringing about better conditions. Occasionally the labor union-ists content themselves by merely putting a stop to production, but more frequently, almost invariably, they manifest quite "an omnivorous spirit of destruction." The whole cause of the unreasonable demands made by Labor Unions seems to arise out of ignorance. They claim that the whole production of their labor belongs to them, on the ground that wealth belongs to those who make it. In a certain sense this is true, but not according to the interpreta-tion of it given by these laboring men. They understand it to mean that the entrepreneur, landlord and capitalist have no natural right to a portion of the wealth produced, forgetting that in the modern differentiated and specialized form of in-dustry these—especially, the entrepreneur and capitalist—are THE MERCURY. 141 absolutely indispensable. The socialistic idea of the State's ownership of land could probably do away with the landlord, but to attempt the abolition of entrepreneur and capitalist in our present industrial system is absurd. Another very prevalent kind of socialism arises out of the fact that a great many men, failing to realize their limitations, complain of the more advantageous opportunities of other in-dividuals. They claim that the world owes them a living, but as some one has said, "are too lazy to collect the debt." It is this sort of socialism which is the "besetting sin" of our age. Ambitious people now-a days are so thoroughly imbued with the spirit of "sticktoitiveness" that only a few failures leave them practically undaunted. Having been taught, as Dr. Furbae says, such precepts as "There is always room at the top," encouraged by such maxims as "Try, try again," and cautioned to aim high instead of directly at the mark, they continue to strive for positions to which it is impossible for them to attain and for which, if they did reach, they would find themselves wholly unfitted. Many a proud father and fond mother, either because they have wished to encourage a son, or because of the blindness of paternal love, are respon-sible for a young man's superabundance of self-esteem by their having told him that he is not like the average person, and then he goes forth into the world only to consider his efforts unsuccessful because he cannot do as much as some one else who probably has much greater talent. It is this tendency of the individual's failure to realize his true place in life and his proper relation to others that has produced in our age so many dissatisfied, petulant, and cynical socialists. The last and most dangerous sort of socialism is that which manifests itself in murder, vandalism, and other lawless practices. It is exactly synonymous with anarchism. The number of such persons in the United States is as astounding as the awful doctrines which they promulgate. Some years ago President Seelye of Amherst College, declared: "There are probably 100,000 men in the United States to-day whose animosity against all existing social institutions is hardly less than bound- 142 THE MERCURY. less.' In 1881 their press consisted of 19 journals with a cir-culation of about 80,000, and since that time their numbers and the powers of their press have vastly increased. The fol-lowing are statements from some of their papers. "Religion, authority, and state are all carved out of the same piece of wood—to the Devil with them all!" "Dynamite is the power which in our hands, shall make an end of tyranny." "War to the palace, peace to the cottage, death to luxurious idleness." "You might as well suppose the military orginizations of Eu-rope were for play and parade, as to suppose labor orginizations were for mere insurance and pacific helpfulness. They are organ-ized toprotect interests, for which, if the time comes, they would fight." This last, taken from a socialistic paper of Chicago, pro-bably shows, to a great extent, the true relation between Labor Unions and socialistic tendencies of the most awful character. Such socialists probably began their careers as oppressed working men, or as men who failed to realize their true posi-tions in life, and later under the influence of violent socialistic journals or the lectures of an Emma Golden, became fanatical. A great number of them are foreigners who, having become disgusted with the absolutism of Europe, have come to Amer-ica to carry out their nefarious designs. Several great movements of the past two centuries have conspired to inspire socialistic propensities in men. The foun-dation of the American Republic, with the annunciation of her principles—-such as, "all men are equal and possessed of cer-tain inalienable rights such as, life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness"—paved the way for ideas which, carried to extremes by the ignorant and mischievous, resulted in socialism. In the same way, the French Revolution radiated its evil influences; and the Proclamation of Emancipation by Abraham Lincoln had its baneful as well as its worthy effects. But more influential than any of these has been the greatly increased profits of the rich. How would a poor down-trodden laborer look upon the following statement which occurred in a paper of 1880 ? "The profits of the Wall Street Kings the past year were enormous. It is estimated that Vanderbilt made THE MERCURY. 143 $30,000,000; Jay Gould $15,000,000; Russel Sage $10,000,- 000; Sidney Dillon $10,000,000; and James R. Keene $8,- 000,000. Is it strange if the working man thinks he is not getting his due share of the wonderful increase of national wealth ?" How do men to-day regard a rise in the price of coal-oil and the next week read in all the papers that the larg-est stockholder of the Standard Oil Company has made a be-nevolent gift of several million dollars ? The assassination of rulers and millionaires, the wanton des-truction of property by strikers, and the inconvenience accru-ing from a stoppage of production are not the only bad results of socialism. It tends to ruin the Church as well as the State. Infidelity and skeptacism follow closely in its tracks. In a so-cialistic convention at Pittsburg not many years ago the follow-ing nefarious resolution was unanimously adopted: "The church finally seeks to make complete idiots of the mass, and to make them forego a paradise on earth by promising them a fictitious heaven." "Truth, a socialistic journal of San Fran-cisco says : "When the laboring men understand that the heaven they are promised is but a mirage, they will knock at the door of the wealthy robber, with a musket in hand, and de-mand their share of the goods of this life now ! " What could have a more disasterous effect upon discontented humanity than to read such doctrine ? The socialist of this order denies the existence of God on the ground that if there would be one, wealth, happiness and opportunities would be more equally shared ; they forget to see that the rich are as often unhappy as the poor, and that God sends "his rain upon the just and unjust." Although an attempt to solve a problem of such magnitude may appear absurb, there is, at least one, feasible solution— a more general acceptance and use of the principles ot Chris-tianity. "Socialism attempts to solve the problem of suffering without eliminating the factor of sin." That all suffering caused by our industrial system is the result of sin, either on the part of employer or emplyee, or of both, there can be no doubt. If the spirit of the Golden Rule were put into practice, it "would 144 THE MERCURY. dictate such arrangements between capitalist and laborer as will secure to the latter a fair return for his toil." As Dr. Fisher says, "It will check the accumulation of wealth in a few individ-uals. And the Christian spirit, as in ancient days, will inspire patience and contentment, and a better than earthly hope, in the minds of the class whose lot in life is hard." THE SABBATH AS A CIVILIZER. Miss HELEN WAGNER, '06. WHEN God said, " The seventh is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God, in it thou shalt not do any work, thou nor thy man servant—," He surely had more ends in view than the mere refreshing of man and His own glorification. Besides achieving these results the Sabbath has other far-reaching in-fluences. Chief among these influences we see its power as a civilizer, as an educator and a refiner. It has long been an ac-knowledged fact that Christianity pnd education go hand in hand. In the accomplishment of one we necessarily attain the other. The influence of the Sabbath is like the atmosphere—it sur-rounds every one it touches, whether with that one's approval or not. The most violent atheist would be no more likely to scorn the influence of the day set apart chiefly for the worship of the God he ignores than would our staid old deacons. It has been proven that no civilized country can exist without the aid of the soothing influence of the Sabbath on the passions ot men, in the observance of its laws. Because the influence of the Sabbath is so all-prevailing and must be felt everywhere, no man can or does escape it. Christians, of course, are those most directly affected by the Sabbath. They come into immediate contact with some of its most potent influences. A true Christian never misses the Sabbath—he spends . it in the worship of God and for rest as was commanded. And so he reaps not only the physical bene-fit but the intellectual as well. One of his chief duties and THE MERCURY. MS '* pleasures is a regular attendance upon divine worship. Thus while being spiritually fed and elevated he assimilates some of the best literature and art of the world as it radiates from the pulpit and the organ loft and the temple of God itself. But the people who do not come into direct contact with the Sabbath influence, feel it just as surely. They must breathe it with the very air. One cannot go anywhere on the Sabbath Day without being made very conscious that this day differs from all others. In the cities and towns the stillness imparted to the streets, noisy and hustling on other days, by the aspect of the closed stores and shops and the absence of the clattering dray and shouting venders, and the quietly passing inhabitants with their peaceful, serene countenances and their fresher, more artistic raiment, and the sweet music of the church bells—all have a subduing, refining influence on the sensibilities and pas-sions of men, not easily thrown off. And out in the open country away from church bells and changed surroundings one feels an unwonted peace and calm—one breathes with the very air which draws one a little nearer Mother Earth—and thus is made to appreciate her beauties and truth a little more fully. Besides these maternal, physical influences there is another, more subtle, ever advancing influence—the influence of man upon man. Usually the Christian does not need the Sabbath environment for purposes of self-education and refinement, but those with whom he associates or with whom his friends come in contact may and are more helped, as they imperceptibly absorb from him a finer sense of right and wrong and a better general knowledge, than they would be by any numbers of over-zealous instructors and noisy evangelists. I46 THE MERCURY. THE COURSE OF THE UNITED STATES GOVERN-MENT IN CONNECTION WITH THE PANAMA REVOLUTION. ( Written for the Pen and Sword Prise Essay Contest.) CHAS. "VV. HEATHCOTE, '05. PANAMA has an area of about 31,500 square miles and a population of almost 300,000. When Panama revolted a short time ago, it was not the first time she attempted to throw off the yoke of Columbia. In 1885 a similar revolution took place. Columbia promised various reforms which checked the revolution. However, Columbia failed to carry out these reforms. Columbia established a centralized form of govern-ment which caused Panama to lose the privilege of a state. For years the idea of building a canal across the isthmus has been in vogue. The French Company, which attempted it a few years ago, failed miserably. It remains for the United States to carry out the plan. The Panama and Nicaragua routes were suggested. The need of the canal is very evident. If the canal had been built when the Oregon made her long run around Cape Horn the United States government would have been saved much expense. Then, the American interests in Porto Rico, Cuba and the Pacific possessions strongly urge the construc-tion of this canal. For a time the Nicaragua route was favored. A bill was drawn up and unanimously ratified by both Houses of our Na-tional Legislature. The main idea of this bill was that when the canal was completed it was to remain neutral under the protection of the great European powers. However, delay over this part led the people to favor the Panama route. Fi-nally, upon the recommendation of the Walker Commission, the Panama route was chosen providing it could be bought from the old French Company for $40,000,000. However, to keep our word with Nicaragua, the Spooner compromise was passed which instructed the President to select the Panama route pro-viding the necessary arrangements could be made. If, not the Nicaragua route was to be chosen. About this time Columbia became very much interested in THE MERCURY. 147 the canal affairs. They gave the United States every assurance that a treaty favoring the Panama route would be ratified by their Senate. However, after much delay, it was unanimously rejected. Columbia was to receive $10,000,000 for certain con-cessions. Columbia thought the United States was an easy mark and refused to ratify the treaty unless $20,000,000 was given to them. In all these proceedings the Columbian politi-cians refused to consult the wishes of Panama. Panama knew the value of the canal. That the Columbian politicians were working for their own interests was very evident. Conse-quently Panama's hatred for Columbia grew more intense. When the revolution broke out the world was not surprised. The revolution was virtually bloodless. The republic was soon recognized by the United States, France, Germany, Russia and many other powers. In a short time a treaty was drawn up and signed. By this treaty the United States gained complete ownership of the canal and received much more territory than she would have received had Columbia-not acted in such an ugly manner. The course of the United States government has met with general approval by all well-thinking people. All the foreign powers sanctioned the action. Many people tried to condemn the course of the government because the warships were or-dered to prevent any of Columbia's troops being landed to bring Panama to time. How often in the South American rev-olutions the lives of our citizens and likewise their property have been endangered. Many times before this the United States marines and sailors were landed to protect the property of our citizens. American interests are better developed in Panama than in any other South American state. American capital runs the whole railroad system on the isthmus. What good is a government to its people if it fails to protect them ? Then again Panama had been recognized by the United States and for that reason alone her action was justifiable. Some people in criticizing the government forget the action of Presi-dent Polk in the way he started the Mexican War. His action cost the United States' thousands of lives and dollars in order to maintain the national honor. Today all people recognize 148 THE MERCURY. that the addition of Texas to United States territory is a blessing. The idea that the government's course is a stain up-on the history of our country is erroneous. The government has upheld our traditions by being the champion of the weak and helping young republics maintain their standing. "A HUNTER OF MEN." "BRIDGET." WITHIN the forest depths I wandered far, O'er the great battlefield, where bloody war Had made upon our land a loathsome sore, Healed now, but still retaining its deep scar. At last, upon a wooded hill was found, what I had sought, A monument, commemorating strife With victory and loss of life, The boon God-given, A monument for heroes, dearly bought, A witness unto Heaven. Upon a natural rock, like those which on the hillside lay, Was carved the figure of a man; Not as the Knights of old, with upright pose, And fearless eyes, he faced his foes, at bay, But crouched and hid him, midst the trunks of trees, And with a deadly purpose, did the hillside scan. 'Twas here I rested me, A dream I dreamed, Which, to my wand'ring fancy, even seemed A waking dream, a reverie. Within the homestead of an old Virginian farm, A mother sat one sunny summer morn, Holding, within the shelter of her arm, A little babe, her son, her own first born. Oh! what a wondrous grace was in those words,, "her own," What sword could pierce the soul of such a one ? A soul, so full of hopes, before unknown, The deed too cruel, to be planned or done. THE MERCURY. 149 A glorious future lay before her boy, All fashioned with her mother love and care, A future, full of happiness and joy, Devoid of sin, the bait of Death's dread snare. "Her own," but ever since the earth wastrod By her, above all women blest of God, In honor of her wondrous motherhood, The soul of womankind has felt the sword. He grew into a handsome, stalwart youth, Beloved by many, and disliked by few, Then came the blow; her soul was pierced in truth, And he went forth to die, as sons of all brave mothers do. To die, but could he kill his fellow-man? This was the question that had haunted him, Upon the day of march, and in the nightly din Of dreadful dreams, bloody with warfare's ban. A marksman of sure eye, and hand unfaltering, Far-famed was he, And many a woodland voice had cased to sing Through death, from him, its untaught melody. So, when night's dreams were changed to day's reality, Not placed in ranks that fought an open war was he, But called of men, a sharpshooter, lay low, Upon the hillside's brow, to slay the unwary foe. #**#*#***♦* The sun comes flickering through the whispering leaves, Casting their shadows on green moss and fern, A birdling, from a nest above, moves restlessly, and grieves, In dismal chirpings, for its mother's late return. The noonday calm is over hill and glen, Save for the distant sound of battle's roar, There, where a multitude of bravest men, Fight onward for their country's noble fame, for honor more. Then with a rustling sound, the calm is broken, The underbrush is parted by a man in blue, A moment's pause; no warning word is spoken, To tell him "Death is waiting now for you." And he, whom destiny ordained to give to Death her prey, One instant hesitated, in his covert lay Sickened by fear, of his dread deed alone, Then aiming fired and it was done. ISO THE MERCURY. Quickly his weapon casting on the ground, He bounded fearless, down the wooded slope, His boyish eyes, all bright with unshed tears, For in his soul remorse fought hard with hope. And Hope, how soon 'twas vanquished in the fray, A boy, scarce older than himself, his victim lay, Dying in agony upon the sod ; No word he spoke, but with great eyes of pain, Looked up into his face, who had his brother slain, And then, just as the birdling fell to earth, His spirit met his God. 'Twas then a red mist rose before his eyes, a mist of blood ; Concealing the poor body of the slain, from which the soul had fled, He climbed once more the hillside's weary road, Determined to repeat his deed of dread. At sunset, when the wounded mother-bird Returned, to find her nestlings gone, No sound, upon that dark hillside she heard, To tell her of the deeds that there were done. Yet, 'midst the underbrush, there silent lay What had been seven brave men, And he, who watched the little bird's dismay, Red-eyed and haggard, envied each of them. But God is good, his day of darkness o'er, A wandering bullet claimed him for its own, And his sad soul, its struggles knew no more, No more did yearn for murder to atone. As from my dream I woke, my heart was torn With pity, for the " Man of Sorrows " who, Upon another hill, in distant clime, Gave up his life " hunter" for such as you. " Oh, God Omnipotent! " aloud I cried, " For His dear sake forgive the crimes, Committed in the name of Liberty, and dyed With heroes' blood, the curse of warlike times." THE MERCURY. 151 "THE PATH OF DUTY IS THE WAY TO GLORY." NO one will deny me the fact that our present age with all its hurry and hustle, its energy and propelling-force, its competition and its competitors, is an age for the success of in-dividual purpose. Having granted this concession, it follows that individuals must exist with specific purposes, carrying out and fulfilling the obligations which are imposed on them. Be-lieving that no man has ever been created without a purpose, which results in a duty or obligation to his Creator, and when he fulfills this obligation or carries out this duty he has a for-tune worth more in realistic and spiritual value than all the Rockefellers, Carnegies, Vanderbilts or any other gods of gold that ever lived—believing this, I ask you to come with me to the rich meadow-lands of Connecticut, where on Oct. 5, 1703, a man was born who graduated from Yale University at the early age of 16 and set out into the world following the paths of duty and therein was his fortune, a legacy far richer than any earthly inheritance the world could have given him. It was during his boyhood days that a problem of extreme importance began to trouble him, and the solution of this was the determining of his course in after life. From that time he became a man that had an end in view, a something to say and he said it. A bold, fearless, ardent and consistent advocate of his belief; a man with a conscience so clear, so pure, and so unbiased that all the world loved him though he sought not for their favor; a man with iron-clad precepts, not for others, but for himself and he lived them; a man that has come down through two centuries, spotless, to live in the hearts of all man-kind, and who dares to say that his glory shall not live till the sun shall cease to rise and set and until time shall be no more ! This man of purpose or duty has been the father of a very illustrious progeny. Among his descendants more eminent men have been numbered than have been recorded of any other man in American history. They have been most promi-nent in the ministry, in education, in law and a number have sat on the bench. Let me mention some of them: Dr. Jo-nathan Edwards, Aaron Burr, Vice-President, Prof. Park, of Andover, President Woolsey and President Uwight, of Yale, 152 THE MERCURY. not forgetting the elder President Dwight. Three Presidents of Yale are his descendants. Could any man be more signally blessed or have a richer inheritance in the hearts of his child-ren ? He was also a born naturalist, and there is hardly any doubt that had he not become our greatest theologian he would have been our father of Natural Philosophy. As a boy he dis-covered facts which have been handed down to the naturalist of today as most valuable information. Who can set the limit for his discoveries had he devoted himself to this branch of science with his purpose and ambition ? Jonathan Edwards as a man, as a theological and philosophi-cal writer, as a naturalist and as the broadest and grandest man the American pulpit has ever produced, stands out in lines so bold, in verse so tender, and in character so spotless as to thrill with admiration and awe every American youth of today. Who would not love to be what he has been ? Who would not exchange all the wealth he possesses—I care not whether it be millions—for the place Jonathan Edwards holds in the hearts of the people and in the history of his country ? His life is a story that should make any young man enthusiastic and his success has been such as would turn the heads of thousands had it been theirs, but not his for he had a purpose, a convic-tion, a duty to the world and his fellow-man and until that should be accomplished his labor was with him incessantly. Truly he knew the paths of duty and just so surely his glory followed. In two centuries from today how many men's 'names of the present generation, lives and characters do you suppose will have been handed down to posterity ? Where are our Long-fellows, our Emersons, Whittiers, Bryants, Lincolns and Far-raguts of today ? Are we producing any such ? Indications from the past decade and more do not show them and it is believed that unless a change in the ambitions of the young of today is brought about, America will have none to record in her history. The lust for gold is the keynote to this dearth of noble manhood. Men are willing to sacrifice anything—prin-ciple, creed, honor, friends, self, anything—no matter what to obtain the riches of a Carnegie or Morgan. THE MERCURY. 153 Says B. O. Fowler, "if this, our republican form of govern-ment is to stand we must have men" and he means more men like Jonathan Edwards. The U. S. Senate has grown to be a rich man's club, the offices of the government are filled and controlled by political graft with men who are unable to cope with the issues demanded of them. Oh for a few fearless preachers of duty and loveliness, for a few men like Jonathan Edwards; men with purposes, men with a sense of duty and honor, men with the love of a superior being in their hearts ! Our nation must have these men and she is going to get them. Whether they come from Connecticut or from Florida, from California or from Pennsylvania it matters not; they must come. Would you have this, your free form of government turned into a monarchy? Indications point us to the fact that it is gradually being done and there is only one sure method of making the wrong right. This threatening evil can only be averted by finding men who are willing, if need be, to die for a correct principle. Nothing counts so much as principle and nothing tells in a man like purpose. If you would have a for-tune, have a principle, and if you would have the love and esteem of your fellow men live a principle. In all the history of the world there never was a grander period in which to live than the present. Never was there so much to do, so many chances, so bright an outlook, but it is only for the man with a sense of duty. The nation wants men, but she wants them stern, tender and fearless, full of duty and loneliness as was this missionary to the savages, this first of American naturalists, this explorer of philosophy and theology. If for no other vir-tue we should love and revere the memory of Jonathan Edwards today because of his devotion to stern duty and to no other cause can we attribute his success and glory. If asked to write his epitaph I would have inscribed on his monument the sub-stance of his acts done on earth : "The part of duty is the way to glory." "C. E. B. '05." 154 THE MERCURY. POEM. ( Written by a quondam High School pupil.) We come before you this evening, To tell of our High School days, And while our stories we relate, Don't criticize our ways. We started the fourth of September The ladder of knowledge to climb, While the months were rapidly passing, Marking the flight of time. While our work was thus progressing. The holidays drew near, And through all the glad and happy days Were pleasures, unbedimmed by tears. We studied hard to reach the goal, We scholars of Number Ten, And now to the fullest we realize " Laborum Dulce Lenimen." The friendships, sympathies and all That were our life in school, Are meshed with memories of the hall, Which was our working tool. 'Tis sad to part with friends so dear, With whom so long we've been. Try as we will, the briny tears Will come, and sight bedim. School life, so dear, is over now, On life's broad wave we speed, May God 'ere guide our journey through, And we His warnings heed. To one and all we bid farewell, As now are separated The many friends who proved us well, And joys anticipated. Farewell to many undone tasks, To victories not yet won ; May all unfinished work In heaven, if not on earth, be done. * f THE MERCURY Entered at the Postoffice at Gettysburg as second-class matter VOL. XIII GETTYSBURG, PA., JUNE, 1904 No. 4 Editor-in-ch ief C. EDWIN BUTTER, '05 Exchange Editor CHARI,ES GAUGER, '05 Business Manager A. L. DILLENBECK, '05 Asst. Business Managei E. G. HESS, '06 Associate Editors H. C. BRILLHART, '06 ALBERT BILLHEIMER, '06 H. BRUA CAMPBELL, '06 Advisory Board PROF. J. A. HIMES, LITT.D. PROF. G. D. STAHLEY, M.D. PROF. J. W. RICHARD, D.D. Published each month, from October to June inclusive, by the joint literary societies of Pennsylvania (Gettysburg) College. Subscription price, one dollar a year in advance; single copies 15 cents. Notice to discontinue sending the MERCURY to any address must be accompanied by all arrearages. Students, Professors and Alumni are cordially invited to contribute. All subscriptions and business matter should be addressed to the Busi-ness Manager. Articles for publication should be addressed to the Editor. Address THE MERCURY, GETTYSBURG, PA. EDITORIALS. LOYALTY TO Probably no force, power or influence among ALMA MATER, the graduates of a college is felt so much as Loyalty. We all believe that a college can be only what her Alumni wills her to be. If she is to spread her influence through-out many states; if she is to wax strong and command a place among the leading universities and colleges of the world; if she is to grow and prosper as she should, and as so many col-leges are doing, she must have your support, Alumni. Loyalty to Alma Mater must be your watch-word day and , night. Be eager, ready and enthusiastic at all times and you will be surprised beyond measure how much you can do for her. The very fact that you are a graduate is proof of your obligation and should be a sufficient incentive to rouse your earnest endeavors on her behalf. I56 THE MERCURY. Every college, no matter where or how situated, has its own reasons for producing loyal Alumni. It is, indeed, a sad day for the old mother when liar son turns his back on her, and it is a sorry day for Gettysburg when an Alumnus forgets her love and devotion. Perhaps a true indication of the success a man will make in the world is the spirit and vehemence with which he accomplishes his college work. If the undergraduate does his very best and is loyal to the core, the college cannot be without loyal Alumni. He who sings most lustily his Alma Mater'a songs, who has again and again made his throat raw with a "heike" for the orange and blue, who fervently loves every spot of this historic ground, he is the fellow who usually counts for something. Tis to the devotion and love and in-terest of such men that Gettysburg pays tribute. Loyalty to Alma Mater means the preaching of her charms to every boy who expects to go to college, and to many more who have never had a thought of a college course. Loyalty to Alma Mater means doing one's best and a keen and lively interest in all her affairs. Loyalty to Alma Mater means your unbounded support, Alumni, to your college publications. Gettysburg wants love and devotion and loyalty from every Alumnus. How much will you do for her in the next year ? Shall we, undergraduates, believe your efforts to be commen-surate with your love ? It is the only criterion we have with which to take your measure. Are you one of the many who are always so busy that when an appeal comes you must beg to be excused ? If you are made of such stuff, Gettysburg has no use for you, and the noise you will make in the world will never cause a disturbance. Our dear old college has many loyal alumni who have fought, bled and died in her interests, and to them, we, her sons, give all the honor and reverence for what she is today and for what she gives promise of in the not far distant future. Sooner or later in the life of many a young person the ques-tion comes, "To what college shall I go after I have prepared myself in the academy or high school?" It is thrusting itself upon a great many young people in this month of June, as the THE MERCURY 157 colleges and universities are sending out their scores and hun-dreds of graduates and the preparatory schools are finishing up the share of- the work that properly belongs to them. It is a serious question, one that will mean much in the life of the in-dividual, one that should not be decided without grave con-sideration. Shall he go to the college having the most successful ath-letic teams ? or to the one having the greatest reputation ? or to the one which makes the greatest promises ? These are some of the questions usually taken into consideration by pro-spective college students. But how many stop to ask them-selves and to consider the vastly more important question, "Which college lays the greatest emphasis upon the training of its students in the duties of good citizenship and the devel-opment of Christian character?" This, after all, is the important consideration. Not how great a reputation do the athletic teams have, not how much does it seem to promise, but how much importance does it attach to the development and training of that which really makes character ? H. C. B. -^> EXCHANGES. " Criticism is essential to good work. True criticism is both appreciative and corrective, but it is not so essential that a writer receive perfect criticism after all. Public judgment, fav-orable, adverse or perverse, is instructive and leads us to correct our errors, improve our style, sharpen our wits and pay more attention to the perfecting of our work, line by line. Have you a thought, the plot of a story, the idea of a poem ? Write it in your best and freshest moments and lay it by until the frost of cool evenings has chilled it, and it has become a thing apart from yourself. Then criticize it, remodel it, with your best impartial judgment. Never doubt that the English lan-guage has the right word ; and the right words rightly and ar-tistically constructed, make famous literature of the thought of men."—The Bowdoin Quill. I58 THE MERCURY. V The Otterbein Argus contains a rather interesting story en-titled " Character Painting." It pictures quite vividly the con-dition of many a poor child in the mining districts of our coun-try and portraying the effect produced by refinement and wealth upon so uncultured a mind as that of the heroine. While this story is good in the main, it is the only article of a literary nature in the journal. We cannot feel that such a meagre amount of literary matter does justice to a school which styles itself an university. The editorial pointing out why students should remain for commencement, whenever it is at all possible, is timely and well worth putting into practice. Commence-ment exercises are the crowning events of the year, and cer-tainly, whenever possible, the student should avail himself of this privilege to enjoy the happy closing of the school-year and also to bid farewell to the graduating class for whom it means so much. Remember that you yourself expect to be in a similar position some day, then perhaps you can better appreci-ate its significance. The best part of the World's Fair number of The Wabash is its "exchange pickings." The exchange editor is to be com-mended^ for his judgment and selection of clippings. We quote a few of them. " Are you Hungary ? Yes; Siam. Well, come along ; I'll Fiji." Again : " It is said some girls are pressed for time ;—others for the fun of it." " If college bred is a four-year loaf (The Smart Set says its so.) Oh tell me where the flour is found For us who need the dough !" —The Acorn. TEACHER—Johnny, repeat after me " Moses was an austere man and made atonement for the sins of his people." JOHNNY—" Moses was an oyster man and made ointment for the shins of his people." MM » "THE MERCURY. 159 "Usefulness is the rent we are asked .-to pay for room on earth. Some of us are heavily in debt." The May number of the Manitou Messenger \s a credit to the new staff. The oration "The Public Service of Church and School" is a well written and logical development of the power exerted upon the state by church and school. " Chaucer's Hu-mor" is a terse estimate of one side of his nature, as seen in "The Canterbury Tales." We are glad to welcome the Bucknell Mirror to its long va-cant place on our table. The only literary article, "The Col-umn to the Right of the Doorway," is an interesting and amusing reminiscence of a college prank fifty years ago. An increase in amount of literary matter would greatly improve the paper. The Buff and Blue contains a number of short articles. Among them "The Assassination," while an interesting recital of an imaginary college joke, it might be much improved by a smoother style, less abrupt and " choppy " sentences. The article on "Fiction" gives a brief history of its beginning, de-velopment, present use and abuse. " Ninety-Seven," an episode of an undergraduate who was determined to win his race in an indoor meet, is well written and worth reading. The Red and Blue is always among the best journals of fic-tion on our table. The June number is no exception. Roses bloom and roses fade, Flowers bloom and die. Life is made of sun and shade, ' Laughter and a sigh. Heigh-o ! sun and shade, Laughter and a sigh. Love is like the roses red, Fading in a day ; Soon 'tis dead, its sweetness fled On the wind away. Heigh-o ! soon 'tis dead— Pluck it while you may.— The Haverfordian. ■ The Susquelianna contains a well written article on Jonathan Swift, setting forth his true character. It calls attention to the fact that the vulgarities in his writings, on account of which he ■ i6o THE MERCURY. is not read, are no index to his real character. The spirit of the age demanded writings of such a nature, hence his contri-bution. "The Midnight of the Revolution" gives us a good resume of the condition of affairs in our own country during its struggle for birth. The writer has well digested the his-torical facts relating to this period and gives them to us in terse and unbiased form. In The Western Maryland College Monthly, "Old Man Knowl-ton's Greenbacks " is quite an interesting narrative of how an old miser was robbed of his greenbacks by rats. We think the story might have been told in a more interesting way. The break in the story, caused by shifting the scene to events in the court room, detracts from the narrative; while, on the other hand, were the style in which the story is begun continued, the produc-tion would be much better. The other articles are good. On the whole, the paper is worthy of commendation. The Pharetra contains a sort of parody on " The Raven " (under the title of " Easter Vacation "), which begins well, but soon loses rythm and at times whole lines are entirely devoid of any claim to poetry. However, considering the production as a whole and its probable intent, it is fairly good. SPRING TIME. The cro- cusses As the bull rushes O'er the grass-blades 'Neath the " bloomin' shades ' Of trees which are short For the cro-cusses frolicking sport. —Ex. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. Weaver Organs Weaver Pianos Used by Gettysburg College Y. M. C. A. Used by Druid's Society Gettysburg College. of Further recommendation unnecessary. Close Prices, Easy Terms, Old Instru-ments Exchanged. Satisfaction Abso-lutely Guaranteed. WEAVER PIANO AND ORGAN CO., MANUFACTURERS, YORK, PA., U. S. A. I|. \ Ec^eil Latest Styles in HATS, SHOES AND GENT'S FURNISHING .Our specialty,. WALK-OVER SHOE M. K. ECKERT Prices always right The LutfieM putting |Ioiige,. No. 1424 Arch Street PHILADELPHIA, PA. Acknowledged Headquarters for anything and everything in the way of Books for Churches, Col-leges, Families and Schools, and literature for Sunday Schools. PLEASE REMEMBER That by sending your orders to us you help build up and devel-op one of the church institutions with pecuniary advantage to yourself. Address H. S. BONER, Supt. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. FURNITURE Mattresses, Bed Springs, Iron Beds, Picture Frames, Repair Work done promptly. Under-taking a specialty. * Telephone No. 97. H_ E. Bender 73 Baltimore. St., Gettysburg, Pa. THE STEWART & STEEN CO. College 'EngTcuueTs ctnd (pTi/nteTs 1034 Arch St., Philadelphia, Pa. MAKERS AND PUBLISHERS OF Commencement, Class Day Invitations and Programs, Class Pins and Buttons in Gold and Other Metals, Wedding Invitations and Announcements, At Home Cards, Reception Cards and Visiting Cards, Visiting Cards—Plate and 50 cards, 75 cents. Special Discount to Students. A. G. Spalding «S Bros. Largest Manufacturers in the World of Official Athletic Supplies. * * * * * * ^ Plans'and Blue Prints of Gymnasium Parapherna-lia furnished on request. BASE BALL, LAWN TENNIS, FOOT BALL, GOLF, xs^sa^. FIELD HOCKEY, AST TRADE JSM, BASKET BALL, TOW OFFICIAL ATHLETIC ^ajjjgj^ INPLEMENTS. Spalding's Catalogue of all Athletic Sports Mailed >^» «^V *^V #^ T) TT others of the popular OLD FAMILIAR TUNES; be- Ti sides OLD FAVORITES; and also many NEW SONGS. ifrWJf ff ft SONGS OF ALL THE COLLEGES. fTff £Mt CopjriEhv, Price, ?f .JO, postpaid, «0u. uuu HINDS & NOBLE, Publishers, New York City, ui^, *T ft Schoolbooks of ail publishers at one store, ff^f p^q^t :**= :«=:«: :«= :\*= :**= :«= :**: =*5fc =**: Rig 1^2 ^tr *^ 3A= ^Srt: :**: ;**: :**: :**= :\*= :**: =**: ELJ mm mm m m. w mm m 50 YEARS' EXPERIENCE TRADE MARKS - DESIGNS r , . , - COPYRIGHTS &C. Anyone sending a Fleet oh nnd description may quickly ascertain our opinion free whether an invention is probably patentable. Communica-tions strictly confidential. Handbook on Patents sent free. Oldest ngency for securing patents. Patents taken through Munn & Co. receive gpecialnotice, without charge, in the Scientific American. A handsomely illustrated weekly. Lnrcest cir-culation of any scientific Jrrarnu'. 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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

Issue 42.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1983. ; Rt vtFw I-or Rvt IGIOU~, (ISSN 0034-639XL published every two months ~s edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St Lout,, Umverslty The editorial offices are located at Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis. MO 63108. REVIEW FOR REI.IGIOtJS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Instltute of the Society of Jesus. St. I.ouis. MO. © 1983 by REVIEW FoR REI.IGtOtJS, Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis. MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A.: $9.00 a year: $17.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year (postage). For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW VOll RELIC, IOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor Jan./Feb., 1983 Volume 42 Number I Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGtOt~S; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's University; City Avenue at 54th St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVtE'W EOR RELtGtOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108, "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Review for Religious Volume 42, 1983 Editorial Offices 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428 Saint Louis, Missouri 63108 Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Miss Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is published in January, March, May, July, Sep-tember, and November on the fifteenth 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 © 1983 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Signs of Hope in Religious Life Today Stephen Tutas, S.M. Father Tutas has been Superior General'of the Marianists. and is now assigned to their forma-tion center in California. The September-October, 1982 issue carried "Preparing for the 1983 Synod." Father Tutas resides at the Marianist Formation Center. 22622 Marianist Way: Cuper-tino, CA 95014. One of the most important contributions religious women and men can make to the Church in any era is to be signs of hope, encouraging others in their own response to Gold's call by a witness of joyful dedication. This call to religious to be signs of hope is as urgent today as in any other time in the history of the Church. The preparatory document for the 1983 Synod of Bishops states that "the dominant characteristic of our era s~ems to have become that of tensions and divisions., situations of incomprehen~ion, of estrangement, of conflict, of schism, of reciprocal condemnation . " In response to this, 1 believe it is absolutely necessary that we religious today strive to be outstanding men and women of hope. We must really believe--and show our belief--that the Holy Spirit is active in the Church today, and that this active presence of the Spirit is the basis for our hope. Points of Convergence For some time now, ! have been especially sensitive to the signs of hope found in religious life. I was privileged to see some of these signs of hope as 1 met with other superiors general of both men and women religious congrega-tions. The various formal and informal meetings in Rome and elsewhere were for me inspiring moments when we were able to share with each other what we experienced in our visits to communities. It was very heartening for me to see how many points of convergence there were as we discussed the main themes of religious life and were able to refer to so many encouraging examples of 4 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 what was actually being realized on a day-by-day basis in religious communi-ties throughout the world. My personal experience included contact with communities of the Society of Mary (Marianists) in thirty one countries on all the continents. As I found in my exchange of views with others, my experience reflected well the general thrusts in religious life as 1 came to identify these through visits and reports. Obviously, not all that I experience is positive and encouraging. I am painfully aware of the inadequacies in my own life and in the lives of others. It ,is always true that the Church "is at the same time holy and always in need of being purified."~ But while recognizing our failures as religious, I believe it is much more life-giving to look at the signs of hope so evident in the lives of many religious women and men and build on these so that together with other members of the Church we can move forward to the third millennium in a spirit of hope. I often pray in the words of Pope Paul VI that "the world of our time, which is searching, sometimes with anguish, sometimes with hope, be enabled to receive the Good News not from evangelizers who are dejected, discouraged, impatient or anxious, but from ministers of the gospel whose lives glow with fervor, who have first received the joy of Christ, and who are willing to risk their lives so that the kingdom may be proclaimed and the church established in the midst of the world."~ After completing my terms of service as Superior General, 1 was privileged to have several months to devote to prayer and reflection before taking up my new assignment as Director of the Marianist Formation Center in Cupertino, California. Most of this time of prayer and reflection was spent in the Mother-house of the Dallas Province of the School Sisters of Notre Dame in Irving, Texas, where I served as chaplain under ideal conditions that made it easy for me to look back with gratitude and to look forward with hope, while sharing my experience of gratitude and hope with the community as I tried to live fully in the present. Now that 1 have taken up my new life and work in California, With the specific responsibility to promote continuing formation in the Marianist Prov-ince of the Pacific, I would like to share with the readers of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS a gummary of the signs of hope that I see in religious life today. Ten Signs of Hope I have selected ten signs of hope that I find particularly striking. It is evident that these signs do not exist everywhere. And where they do exist, the signs .vary in clarity and intensity. But these signs do exist, and my daily prayer is that they become ever stronger and more general throughout the Church, I hope the readers of this article will find in the list a confirmation of their own experience, and a further encouragement to continue working to make these signs ever more clear and ever more general. 1. A strong commitment to ongoing renewal, emphasizing: - personal and communitarian prayer, making union with God clearly the Signs of Hope in Religious Life Toda.v / 5 basis for religious life: - the building of community, recognizing this bonding in view of a shared ideal as the sign of being a true follower of Christ; - the concern for a greater simplicity of life: - the positive understanding of celibacy as a way of loving rather than as a simple renunciation of marriage and of family. These four points constitute a truly radical change in religious life which is often unnoticed as we ourselves go through it. It is not that the value of prayer, community, simplicity and celibacy were lacking in the past, but that we have been able to give new expression to these values in a changing world. I have selected these four characteristics of renewal as being the most life-giving. First and foremost, of course, m,ust be the contemplative dimension of religious life. I find it significant that the "Conclusive Document"just issued by the Vatican as a follow-up to the 1981 International Congress of Bishops and Others Responsible for Ecclesiastical Vocations declares, in speaking of religious states, that "the contemplative dimension is the true secret of spiritual renewal and apostolic fruitfulness in religious life.'~ All renewal programs begin with this contemplative dimension. Efforts are also being made to emphasize community as a sharing of faith: faith is given expression in a concern for simplicity of life: the commu~ nity of faith is always being urged to look beyond itself. These are outstanding fea-tures of various renewal programs. Perhaps never before in the history of religious life has so much attention been given to providing assistance for continuing formation. This itself is certainly a great sign of hope. 2. A rediscovery of the relevance of the founding charism, along with a renewed interest in the person of the founder or foundress, and also a renewed understanding that the founding charism is just as important for the Church of our time as it was at the time of the actual foundation of the community. The document, "Mutual Relations between Bishops and Religious," is an important encouragement for us religious to renew the offering of our cha-risms to the local church, and this with a renewed awareness that we are needed and wanted for the specific gifts God has entrusted to the various religious families in the Church. General chapters, especially in writingconstitutions in response to the Second Vatican Council, have expressed very forcefully how the founding charism is able to meet the urgent needs of the Church in our time. 3. New directions in evangelization, in continued response to that great docu-ment of Pope Paul VI, Evangelization in the Modern World, which followed the 1974 Synod of Bishops on Evangelization. 1 found it very rewarding to read Archbishop Robert Sanchez' address to his .fellow bishops at Collegeville last summer in which he gave heavy emphasis to the dynamic orientations implicit in Pope Paul's statement, saying that "it 6 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 would be difficult to exaggerate the importance that this document will have in revitalizing and prephring the Church for the future . -4 For us religious, this Apostolic Exhortation has sparked and encouraged a gratifying transition from concern about ourselves--even about our survival-- to a greater sense of mission and outreach. 4. The greater insertion of religious corhmunities in the local church and a more ecclesial thrust in solidarity with other religiotls and in collaboration with all others in the local church. As we look back over the past twenty-five years we can appreciate what dramatic changes have taken place in terms of greater collaboration among religious themselves, but also in terms of the active involvement of religious in the life and structures of the local church. The Unions of Superiors General and the national conferences of superiors have provided excellent leadership in this regard. At the same time, more and more bishops are recognizing the unique contribution religious communities can make to the life of the local church. Here, as with the other signs of hope, much needs to be done, but the first step in making this sign clearer and more general is to acknowledge the great strides that have already been realized. 5. The increasing concern for the promotion of justice and peace. 1 am temp~ed to write more extensively aboiat this sign than any other because, as President of the USG Commission Justice and Peace during most of my years as Super-ior General, I was able to witness first hand the response religious have made to the call of the 1971 Synod's document on Justice in the World. Perhaps the simplest statement is best: if the movement to promote.lustlce and peace has developed so strongly in our time. it is in great part due to the courageous initiatives on the part of so many religious throughout the world. 6. The promotion of the laity. It may be surprising to some that ! ha~,e chosen to underline the promotion of the laity as a sign of hope for religious. But ! believe the attention that has been given to the vocation of the laity since Vatican II has served to clarify even more the specific vocation of religious men and women in the Church. Among the significant consequences of this clarification has been greater attention by religious to the witness they give by the quality of their religious life. There is a definite priority given today to being. Religious life, theh, will not be evaluated simply in terms of doing. As important and vital as our work may be, the first and most important contri-bution we religious can make to the Church is in terms of our life. This emphasis religious give to being is a wonderful response to the call of the Church in our time, as this was stated so clearly by Pope John Paul 11 shortly after his election: "What counts most is not what the religious do, but what they are, as persons consecrated to the Lord."5 I also find it encouraging that more and more r~eligi0us ar,e emphasizing a greater collaboration with the laity, recognizing the unique values that each Signs of Hope in Religious Life Today can offer the other. One of my hopes, as a consequenge of the last Synod of Bishops on the Christian Family, has been for a more effective collaboration between the community of religious and the Christian family in the local church. 7. Collaboration in the promotion of vocations. Ever since the Second Vatican Council, the Church has been calling upon all Christians to work together in promoting all Christian vocations. The Conclusive Document referred to ear-lier is an excellent guide t9 help toward the realization of this objective put forward by the council. What I find as a heartening sign of hope is that so many religious communities are making well-organized efforts to collaborate with each other in the promotion of vocations rather than seeking unilaterally to promote their own vocations. Religious who see clearly their responsibility to promot~e a sense of voca-tion in the lives of all, and who offer their own charism to those whom God may call are themselves great signs of hope for the Church in our time. 8. Trends' in .formation and government that assure the best conditions for human development, such as: - concern for affective maturity; - emphasis on freedom and personal responsibility; - endorsement of animation as a way of exercising authority; - general application of the principle of subsidiarity; - appreciation of collegiality on all levels. Each of these points is itself a sign of hope. Taken together, these trends offer great promise for the future of religious life. 9. A reassessement of the role of religious life in the churches of Africa, Latin America and ASia, featuring both a new thrust (from missionary to collabora-tor) and new foundations to implant various expressions of religious life for greater and longer-lasting service to the local church. The kind of thinking sparked by Buhlman's "The Coming of the Third Church" has been both challenging and stimulating for many religious communities. The transition from missionary to collaborator is not easy, but it is being done. and done very well, in so many places. The new foundations, despite the overall decline in numbers and the stead-ily advancing age of communities, are remarkable signs of confidence in God's Providence, that a generous response to the evident needs of God's people is the only way to live. 10. The spirit of hope that is evident in so many leaders of religious today. I am strongly convinced of what 1 like to call "the apostolate of administration." There is nothing more life-giving than a religious leader who is a man or woman of hope and is able to share that hope with others. We religious are blessed in having many women and men of hope among us at this time in the history of religious life. I! / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 As I look at these ten signs of hope, I sense in religious life today a real desire for a way of life that, in the words of Cardinal Pironio, is committed, serious, profound, fraternal, ecclesial. Something really tremendous is happening in the Church today, and this amid the tensions and struggles of life. And so it is very life-giving for us religious to look beyond the day-to-day struggles, the evident failures and shortcomings, to see how God is at work in our lives and to share this experience with each other. Not all that is happening in religious life can be attributed to the Spirit. There is need for continual discernment. But the good that is evident in religious life is a sign of the Spirit at work among us and deserves to be recognized and proclaimed. We are in an age of transition as we experience the death of much of what was familiar and as we experience the birth of a new era in the history of religious life. May our constant prayer be for the grace to believe in the potentiality of our religious communities, recognizing that religious life does have a great mission in the Church today, and that each religious community is called to serve the Church in a special way, offering.its particular charism to be incarnated, adapted and enriched in so many different people. NOTES ~ Lumen Gentium, n. 8. 2Evangelii Nuntiandi, n. 80. 3The Conclusive Document, p. 53. *Origins, Sept. 2, 1982, p. 181. 5October I, 1979. quoted in The Conclusive Document, p. 53. Our Images of God Michael T. Winstanley, S.D.B. Father Winstanley's "The Eucharist as Light and Life" appeared in the issue of November/ December, 1982. He continues to live and teach at Ushaw College: Durham DH7 ORH: England. This is eternal life: to know thee who alone art truly God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent (Jn 17:3). The quality of our praying and living, and of the service we offer to others, depends a great deal on our image of God. The words of Jesus quoted above provoke me to ask: Who is this God whom 1 am invited to come to know genuinely, to whom 1 pray, for whom 1 strive to live? A correlative question follows: What image of God do I communicate to others, do we communicate as religious, as Church? We all have our image of God, though perhaps we have never paused to articulate that image in words. And whether we advert to it or not, we "reli-gious" people cannot avoid conveying an impression of our God to others. We do so, for instance, by the way in which, as parish workers or priests or headmistresses or nurses, we treat the people to whom we minister. And simple, ordinary things can speak loudly about our image of God, things like the architectural design of our churches (especially the position of the altar), the siting and decoration of our community houses, clerical dress, our style of worship. Since all religious have their particular image of God, it is obviously important that, as followers of Jesus, our God be the God of Jesus, the God whom he came to reveal, the God to whom he prayed. It would be rash to presume that his God coincides with mine! It would be equally rash to pre-sume that the image of God we project coincides with the God of Jesus! 9 10 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 Recently, I attended a lecture by the retired Anglican theologian, E.L. Mascall. He was discussing the role of theology in the university. Theo-logy is a word about God. He questioned whether the word about God that was declaimed in the lecture theater was verified in its turn by the word about God so eloquently proclaimed by the life-style and structures of the Theology Department--an interesting question, one that is capable of being transposed to our Churches, hospitals, classrooms, religious communities. A recent con-tributor to this review maintained that the structures and patterns of seminary life have considerable influence (for the worse) on the students' image of God.~ This in turn has a negative effect on their prayer. From what do we fashion our image of God? Later in this article I shall attempt to share with you some reflections on the Scriptures' image of God. With my head ! can acknowledge it as accurate and authentic. But deep down I have another image, a "gut-level image," and this is the image that so often seems to determine my living and my praying. 1 sometimes feel as though I'm watching a slide show in which two projectors are being used and the slides fade into one another. There are the scriptural slides, and then there are the "experience" slides. Sometimes the transitions are smooth and corroborative: at other times there are conflicting and distorting idol-images. One of my friends is a keen golfer. Over his fireplace hangs a picture of a little man in a flat cap who has hit his ball into a bunker and is having difficulty in extricating it. He is just about to move it by hand--ever such a little--when he looks round at the skies and sees a vision of God: an elderly gentleman, with long, flowing beard, his finger waving threateningly. I find it easy to identify with the little golfer. I had a marvelous relationship with my father. I was always sure.of his love and understanding and help. l knew he was on my side; I could trust him implicitly. On the other hand, when 1 was about ten years old, l went for a holiday to the seaside. We were staying with a Catholic family, and they had two children of my own age. On Saturday evening we went to confession. 1 hadn't too much to say, and as I was preparing, l read through the pages of sins which, according to my prayer book, Catholic boys could commit. As a variation on the usual lies and disobedience, I thought I'd add something from the section on the sixth commandment. After all, l had kissed the little girl we were staying with, and maybe that was adultery! The priest behind the grill in that dark box was not amused, but tore strips off me, making me feel utterly evil and rejected by God. When we returned to the hotel, 1 broke down in floods of tears. The scar remains. That slide often fades on to my screen. Maybe God is like that--just maybe. An acquaintance of mine told me that when he wa_s young, he never felt sure of his mother's love. If he was naughty, she gave the impression of withdrawing her love. This made him fearful and anxious and unsure, desper-ately keen to please and not to make mistakes. Our Images of God / "1"~ It is factors like these that have helped to fashion our "gut-level image" of God. Figures like parents, teachers, priests, novice-mistresses have made it easier or more difficult to accept and make really our own the scriptural revelation of God, the Christian image of God. One writer says: "1 am con-vinced that one of the basic reasons for the current difficulties in both Chris-tian and religious life and practice is that we have .lost touch with our God."~ By "our God," he refers to the God of the Bible. So let us explore a little this biblical image of God. The Loving Faithfulness of Yahweh One of the deepest convictions of the people of Old Testament times was that their God, whom they .had come to know as Yahweh, had come out of his distance and mystery, and had approached them, spoken to them, and inter-vened in their history. "At various times in the past, and in various different ways, God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets. (Heb I:l). The story began with the call of Abraham--way back somewhere between the nineteenth and seventeenth centuries B.C. Abraham risked changing his whole way of life in leaving behind homeland--and all that was familiar to him--livelihood, status and security, and migrated to the land of Canaan under the impulse of God's engaging presence in obedience to a promise. The most dramatic intervention of God in their history, chiseled indelibly into the national memory, was the Exodus event. This theme recurs like a leitmotiv throughout the various movements of Old Testament literature, and was made present again in the annual celebration of Passover. In one of the descriptions of the call of Moses, the prophet chosen to play such a key role in God's purposes, we read: I am Yahweh. 1 will free you of the burdens which the Egyptians lay upon you. 1 will release you from slavery to them, and with my arm outstretched and my strokes of power, I will deliver you. I will adopt you as my own people, and I will be your God (Ex 6:6). And Yahweh, they believed, did in fact deliver them in dramatic and exciting fashion from their oppressors. In the ensuing.events of Sinai this motley grouping of nomads received a new unity and identity as God's own chosen people, specially favored and uniquely privileged. Yahweh's relation-ship with them and theirs with him were sealed in the Covenant. One of the salient features of the Old Testament writings is the profound consciousness which Israel evinces continually that she belongs to Yahweh, that she is his community, his people. An extract from Deuteronomy provides ideal expression of this awareness: You are a people consecrated to the Lord your God: the Lord your God has chosen you to be a people of his own possession out of all the peoples that are on the face of the earth. It was not because you were more in number than any other people that the Lord set his love upon you and chose you. for you were the fewest of all peoples: but it is because the Lord loves you and is keeping the oath which he swore to your fathers . 12 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 Know therefore that the Lord.your God is God, the faithful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love him and keep his commandments to a thousand generations (Dt 7:6-9). Israel was called, then, because of the love of Yahweh and his enduring faithfulness. And she was called to respond in love and faithfulness to him: this is the meaning of covenant pledge. Again Deuteronomy expresses this in language which is amazing for the height of its idealism and the totality of its commitment: Hear, O Israel, you shall 10ve Yahweh your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might (Dt 6:4-5). Unfortunately, however, Israel did not in general respond very well. Time and again throughout the undulating course of her history, she turned away from Yahweh, falling far short of the demands of love and fidelity, wanting rather to be like the other nations and to follow their ways. Her infidelity is mirrored in the catastrophes which befell her, like the fall of the N. Kingdom to the Assyrians in 721. But the tragic experience of failure brought growing insight into the nature of her God, the kind of God Yahweh really, is. This insight is spelled out most. movingly and beautifully by her prophets. These men were sensiti~zdy awareof Yahweh, of Israel's special calling, of the demands of the Covenant; they were deeply distressed by her waywardness and infidelity. Their image of God, their understanding of him, can be summed up in the twin concepts of love and faithfulness which we have already met. Does a woman forget her baby at the breast. or fail to cherish the son of her womb? Yet even if these forget, 1 will never forget you. See, I have branded you on the palms of my hands. (Is 49:14-16). For the mountains may depart, the hills be shaken, but my love for you will never leave you and my covenant of peace with you will never he shaken (Is 54:10). I will betroth you to myself forever, betroth you with integrity and justice, with tenderness and love: I will betroth you to myself with faithfulness, and you will come to know Yahweh (.Ho 2:21,19,22,20). I have loved you with an everlasting love, so I am constant'in my affection for you (Jr 31:3). And with this realization of God's constancy amidst their failure is born a firm hope for the future. As Jerusalem was about to fall to the Babylonian troops, Jeremiah proclaimed: Our Images of God / 13 Behold the days are coming, says the Lord. when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah . I will put my law within them. and I will write it upon their hearts: and I will be their God and they will be my people. And no longer shall each man teach his neighbor and teach his brother, saying '~Know the Lord," for they shall all know me. from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord (Jr 31:31-34). And there are those inspiring words of Ezekiel: Then I am going to take you from among the nations and gather you together from all the foreign countries, and bring you home to your own land. I shall pour clean water over you and you will be cleansed: I shall cleanse you of all your defilement and all your idols, l shall give you a new heart, and put a new spirit in you: I shall remove the heart of stone from your bodies, and give you a heart of flesh instead. I shall put my spirit in you, and make you keep my laws and respect my observances. You will live in the land which I gave your ancestors. You shall be my people and I shall be your God (Ezk 36:2513. Yahweh, then, is constant: he continues to be present with his people, present in love, and in faithfulness to his choice and to his promise. The Loving Failhfulness of Jesus Centuries later, a man was wandering through the towns and villages of lakeside Galilee, preaching and healing and exorcising. From amongst those who were interested in him, he singled out twelve, as Mark says (Mk 3:!3-15), "to be with him," to share his friendship, life, ideals, and "to be sent," to share his mission. But these men consistently failed to understand him and his message, they were unable to accept the implications of discipleship. They continued to foster the old expectations, to cherish the old dreams, to think in the categories of success, political and nationalist liberation and prosperity, power and glamor. They failed to grasp the meaning of the kingdom he constantly talked about. They lacked insight to perceive who he was, this Jesus from the backwoods of Nazareth. But Jesus did not go back on his choice. One evening, as they were at supper in Jerusalem around the feast of the Passover, he spoke to them with sadness in his voice, telling them that one of their number would shortly betray him, and another, their natural leader and spokesman, would deny all knowl-edge of him. He went on to say that they would all run away and desert him in the end. At the same time, as head of the table, he broke bread and shared it with them as a sign and pledge of his love and friendship. And he offered the cup of wine, and spoke of the longed-for new covenant, the new fellowship with God, his Father, that would be sealed in his own blood. And one of them did, in fact, betray him very soon: Peter denied all acquaintance with him, cursed him even: and the rest of them took to their heels in flight, to a man. The Roman authorities executed him by the hideous and shameful torture-death of crucifixion. The God whom he had proclaimed to be near seemed very far away. 14 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 But early on the Sunday morning, some women friends found that his tomb was empty. Shortly afterwards, this Jesus appeared to Peter and then to or'hers of the group, and they came to know that the Father had raised him from death. Thus, their Risen Lord brought together again his disillusioned and scattered band, whom he loved still, and forgave, and whom he still looked on as his. his chosen ones, to whom he was fai'~hful still. And he breathed his Spirit into them, and constituted them the nucleus of the new covenanted People of God, a God whom, like him, they could now address as Father. These men came to realize that in Jesus they had encountered the love and faithfulness of God present in their midst, enfleshed. The Loving Faithfulness Which is The Spirit The Farewell Discourses of John's gospel provide us with valuable insights into the way in which the love and faithfulness of the Lord are expressed in the age of the Church: It was before the festival of Passover. Jesus knew that his hour had come. and he must leave this world and go to the Father. He had always loved his own who were in the world, and now he was to show the full extent of his love (13:1). After washing their feet as an expression of his loving service, a prophetic sign of his self-giving on the cross, Jesus returns to recline in their midst. Judas departs into the night. And Jesus opens his heart to his friends: "My children, for a little longer I am with you . . . where I am going you cannot come" (13:33). There is an atmosphere of sadness, of impending loss and bereave-ment: "You are plunged into grief because of what 1 have told you" (16:6). Jesus seeks to comfort and reassure them: "Set your troulSled hearts at rest. Trust in God always: trust also in me" (14:1). Jesus' love for his friends is palpable. Evident, too, is his strong desire to remain with them, faithful to those whom he has chosen. They are his friends, not servants. He has disclosed to them everything that he has himself heard from the Father. He has shared with them all his secrets. His willingness to lay down his life is token of his love for them. "As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you. Dwell in my love" (I 5:9). The manner in which Jesus shows his faithfulness and love (and therefore continues to reveal the nature of the Father as Faithful Love), and also con-tinues to be present with them after returning to the Father, is through the gift of the Spirit, the Paraclete: If you love me and keep my commandments, then at my request the Father will give you another Paraclete to be with you forever. He is the Spirit of truth whom the world cannot accept since it neither sees nor recognizes him: but you do recognize him since he remains with you and is in you (14:15-17). For John, the mission of Jesus is to reveal the Father and to give life. The Paraclete is almost another Jesus. His role is to continue Jesus' mission, to be his presence now that he is absent. He functions as teacher and guide, and as Our Images of God / 1'5 witness to the disciples and to the world (see 14:25-26; 15:26; 16:7-11; 16:13-15).3 A similar understanding of the Spirit's role is to be gleaned from the letters of Paul. When writing to the Church at Corinth, he says: And if you and we belong to Christ, guaranteed as his and anointed, it is all God's doing: it is God also who has set his seal upon us. and as a pledge of what is to come has given the Spirit to dwell in our hearts 12 Co 1:21-22). As in the Old Testament, we find again an emphasis on the free, elective love and initiative of the Father, bestowing that profound reality and sense of belonging, and pledging his enduring faithfulness. It is the Spirit dwelling within us who grafts us into Christ and assures us of a future. In Galatians Paul tells us: "To prove that you are sons, God has sent into our hearts the Spirit of his Son, crying 'Abba, Father!' You are no longer a slave but a son, and if a son, then also by God's act an heir" (4:6). Through the Spirit we are caught up in the relationship of Jesus and his Father, and so come to know God as love, as Father, just as Jeremiah and Ezekiel promised. The fact that we are God's children, and therefore heirs, means that this relationship has a lasting future, that God is faithful. in that magnificent hymn in the Letter to the Romans we meet those lines which celebrate the heart of the Good News that God is love and faithfulness; If God is on our side, who is against us?. Then what can separate us from thelove of Christ?. For I am convinced that there is nothing in death or iia life, in the realm of spirits or superhuman powers, in the world as it is or the world as it shall be, in the forces of the universe, in the heights or depths--nothing in all creation that can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (8:31-39). ISon¢lusion The God of the Bible is best understood as Faithfulness and Love. In this way Yahweh reveals himself in the Old Testament period. In his ministry and passover, Jesus reveals the love and faithfulness of the Father~ In the post-resurrection time, the Holy Spirit takes us up into the enduring love and faithfulness of Father and Son, enabling us to know and to live in that mystery. We find, then, a threefold expression of the faithfulness and love which is our Christian God. Returning to our starting point, we need to ask ourselves whether this is in fact our image of God, whether we genuinely know God in this way. "Have I been all this time with you, and you still do not know me?"(Jn 14:9). We must ponder the interaction in i~ur lives and prayer between this biblical image and those many other images which the experiences of our past have fashioned and which tend to become superimposed, creating a distorted picture, preventing us from seeing the God of Jesus in sharp, life-giving focus. Why do we find it so difficult to surrender fully to this God in loving trust? We stand in such great need of healing and integration. 16 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 And what about the image of God which we communicate to those with whom we live, those we meet in our work? Partners in Christian marriage are meant to show forth, the one to the other, something of the love, acceptance, forgiveness, tolerance, understanding and faithfulness of God--for Christian marriage is a sacrament, is a sign of God's faithful love. Their experience together is intended to be a window into the mystery of God, to be revelation. The high incidence of marital breakdown amongst Christians is a tragedy! In a similar way, we in religious and Church communities are called to mirror to one another the authentic face of the God of Jesus. Communities where there exist intolerance, lack of care and compassion, refusal to forgive, authoritarianism, selfishness, harsh judgments, are actually idolatrous; they betray their whole raison d'etre. Parents, we know, have a vital part to play in shaping their children's understanding of God. Whilst making the demands necessary for growth to maturity, parents must convey to their children a sense of being valued for who they are (and not for what they can achieve), a sense of being loved with a love they cannot lose. Sadly, the imperfeciions of parental love can so easily impart an unfavorable image of God. Likewise, in our ministry within the Church and our mission to the world, we religious are constantly and inevitably (albeit at times quite unconsciously) projecting an image of God to those we meet. We need to be alert to and critical of those aspects of our dealing with others, and of our life-style, those facets of our structures, institutions, regulations, forms of leadership and min-istry, which give the lie to the joy-filled Gospel we announce, which present to our world instead an image of God which is a travesty, perpetuating idols of power, success, security, possessions, which instills fear, guilt, anxiety and hopelessness. Jesus prayed to God as Father. The kernel of his preaching was the kingdom, God's nearness to us in acceptance and saving love. He described the prodigality of God's forgiveness in his parables. More importantly, his own way of living and relating proclaimed in language more powerful than words the palpable reality of his mercy and love, especially for the poor and outcast. The source of Jesus' remarkable freedom, his intuition into what in life is really important, his prophetic overturning of so much that had been acceptable in the society, politics and religion of his day, his breaking down and crossing of so many barriers that kept men apart, was, 1 believe, his image of God. Because Jesus knew that God is Father and is very near, and because he surrendered to the exigencies of such a vision, he could serve others in deep compassion and healing care, he could be near to them in self-gift with a courage and faithfulness that did not balk at death. In killing Jesus, men sought to destroy his God, for they perceived that such a God was too uncom-fortable to live with, and the implications of accepting him were too challeng-ing and demanding, calling as they did for radical conversion in outlook, attitude and way of living. Our Images of God / 17 Perhaps there is still much in our Church and in our religious communities to suggest that we perpetuate the attempt to deface and destroy the God of Jesus, and present instead to our world a caricature, a dreadful distortion. In John's gospel, Jesus, in a moment of controversy with the Jews, exclaims: "I was sent by the One who truly is, and him you do not know . It is the Father who glorifies me, he of whom you say, 'He is our God,' though you do not know him!" (7:28; 8:54)--words which leave us much to ponder. But Jes~s also speaks these words of great reassurance and challenge: If you dwell within the revelation I have brought, you are indeed my discip~.es: you shall know the truth, and the truth will se~ you free (8:31-32). NOTES ~Stephen Happel, "The Social Context of Personal Prayer in Seminaries," REVIEW FOR REI.I-GIOUS 39 (1980), pp. 846-854. 2Francis J. Moloney, Disciples and Prophets (London: DLT, 1980), p. 19. SR.E. Brown. The Gospel According to John (London: Chapmans, 1972), pp. 1135-1143. Discovery Why do ! find so much of me within a wood? As if I stumbled on that part of me most pure and good. There, 1 am wise and simple: I know and am understood. (Why do I find so much of me within a wood?) Why in a wood is my soul set free, - Where my eyes like wild things the silence see And ears hear color marvelously. Why in a wood am 1 free? Why in a wood is truth so true And ! in a wood shot trembling through With a worship terrible, ancient, new? Perhaps ! find in a wood---not me-- but You . Sister Ann Maureen, I.H.M. 11201 Academy Road Philadelphia, PA 19154 Scripture: Literary Text and the Word of God Emmerich W. Vogt, O.P. Father Vogt is a doctoral student of the University of California, Berkeley, and the Graduate Theological Union. He is enrolled in a joint program of these institutions in Near Eastern Religion, focusing on the Old Testament. He is also an instructor at Holy Rosary College (Fremont), and resides presently in the Berkeley Priory: 2401 Ridge Road: Berkeley. CA 94709. With the rise of the modern critical sciences and the subsequent and grow-ing concern for scientific critical study, the historical character of the Bible has again and again been called into question. In their scientific investigations, scholars concede that the biblical narratives are not necessarily factually accu-rate. Some narratives, though perhaps based on actual historical events, are themselves fictional. Moreover, literary and form criticisms have shown evi-dence of various literary techniques and genres, such as mythological lan-guage, present in various narratives. To many, this scholarship has led to a certain skepticism regarding the revelatory character of Sacred Scripture and its reliability as the Word of God, something which has been proclaimed by Christians throughout the centuries. Some are led, on the one hand, to deny any authenticity to Scripture as revelation, while others, more fundamentalist in their approach to Scripture and seeking to preserve their faith in it as the Word of God, become hostile towards all historical and literary critical endeavors. The person of faith, having neither the expertise to make a scholarly inquiry, and lacking sufficient instruction from local pastors or religious educators (who themselves are often confused as to the nature of biblical literature), i~ lbd to reject either his or her faith or the methodology of the modern critical sciences. And this situation is present among both clergy and laity. In essence it is a dilemma which stems from a lack of understanding regarding the nature of Scripture as at once a 18 Scripture: Literao, Text and the Word of God / 19 reality of literary language and the Word of God. An illustration of this dilemma can be seen in the life of John Ruskin, a renowned nineteenth-century English art critic. Raised as an Evangelical Christian, from an early age he was taught devotion to Scripture as the Word of God. However, as a grown man in his thirties he lost this faith largely because of a conflict he saw between Scripture and science. He confided this to a friend, Henry Acland, in 1851: You speak of the Flimsiness of your own faith. Mine, which was never strong, is being beaten into mere gold leaf, and flutters in weak rags from the letter of its old forms: but the only letters it can hold by at all are the old Evangelical formulae. If only the Geologists would let me alone, I could do very well but those dreadful Hammers! I hear the clink of them at the end of every cadence of the Bible verses.~ Geology had been successful in weakening the faith of many Victorians, cast-ing doubt on biblical stories such as the Flood. It is very odd, indeed, that an artist and art critic like Ruskin would have had this difficulty. As an artist he "asserted that art itself must be regarded as a 'universal language,' which spoke not to the connoisseur alone but to the whole of modern mankind: a work of art was closely linked with all the other aspects of contemporary civilization.'"- What Ruskin failed to realize was that Scripture is the Word of God in human garb. It is art, it is literature. It is the Word of God, but the Word incarnated in human language. We have come a long way since Ruskin's time in our understanding of both science and of Scripture. Today we are much more accepting of Scripture's true nature as literature. Yet, we hesitate, and for that very reason, to accept Scripture as the Word of God. "We somehow are under the mistaken assumption that if God were to communicate with us, he would have to do so in exact, scientific terms, revealing to us scientific realities. Recognizing the mythopoeic nature of Scrip-ture, we are inhibited from accepting this as a valid means of divine communi-cation. This was Ruskin's problem, which led him to deny Scripture as the Word of God. An examination of the nature of literary language and its prevalence in human culture, however, will manifest its suitability to express the Word of God. The Nature of Literary Lanaguage The preacher captures the attention of his congregation with a moving story that illustr~ites a certain belief. What holds the interest of the listeners is not abstract religious truths bt~t rather religious truths conveyed in image or story forms. What the artist does with images-in-colors the preacher is able to do with images-in-words,~ and the result is a captivated audience. The human person is intrigued by such story-telling. We are image-form-ing people, and this phenomenon is clearly understood, appreciated, and pur-posely exploited by the artist, whether he be painter, song-writer or storyteller. Colorful images and not sterile abstractions are what captivate the human mind. This is illustrated by Erich Fromm in his study of dreams. 20 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 Let us take a mood in which you feel lost, deserted, where the world looks gray, a little frightening though not really dangerous. You want to describe this mood to a friend, but., you find yourself groping for words and eventually feel that nothing you have said is an adequate explanation of the many nuances of the mood. The following night you have a dream. You see yourself in the outskirts of a city just before dawn, the streets are empty except for a milk wagon: the houses look poor, the surroundings are unfamil-iar, you have no means of accustomed transportation to places familiar to you and where you feel you belong. When you wake up and remember the dream, it occurs to you that the feeling you had in the dream was e~actly the feeling of Iostness and grayness you tried to describe to your friend the day before. It is just one picture, whose visualization took less than a second. And yet this picture is a more vivid and precise description than you could have given by talking about it at length.4 This phenomenon is not something new to the human experience. "The ability to make images is:primeval, and it is no accident that the earliest records of human activity show men making pictures."5 The us~ of literary language, however, involves insight, and our endeavor, if we are to fully enjoy and appreciate the artist's creation, is to elucidate the insight the imagery is meant to convey. The words used, the structure within which they are expressed, and so forth, are all carefully laid out by the designer. Luis Alonso Schoekel makes this point in reference to the literary language of Scripture: In literary language, words have an absolute importance, and they are sought with the greatest care~ They are not merely a way of saying something completely separable from what they say. Words are important for their sound quality, for their rhythm in a phrase, for their aura of associations, and for their resonances in the periphery of our consciousness . 6 The choice of words, the creation of moods through images, the ability to effect "resonances in the periphery of our consciousness" give literary language a charism not possible with philosophical abstractions. However, since the modern world has been so greatly influenced by the scientific mind, oftentimes the value of literary language is not appreciated as a valid means of conveying very real truths about human existence. Nevertheless, human literary achieve-ments give witness to this charism: The power of stories, parables and literal untruths to give us information can well be illustrated in the case of proverbs and "cautionary tales." The tales of the Hare and the Tortoise, the Monkey and the ,lar of Nuts, the Ass in the Lion's Skin, and many others like them, have lasted for centuries, passed from one culture to another, and still appeal today. They have survived not just because they are good entertainment, but because they each have a credible point--that life is like that. The same is true of popular proverbs, "The early bird catches the worm," "Too many cooks spoil the broth," "Empty vessels make the most noise". We test them, not by verification of their literal sense, but through living by them and finding them to work out in experience.7 Trained to search for precise, scientific data, however, the modern mind often misunderstands the nature of mythmaking and storytelling as a valid means of teaching morals or handing on true insights drawn from our com-mon experience. "For the philosopher of the age of reason, myths are barbaric superstitions that grossly befogged the mind of man . -8 Scripture: Literary Text and the Word of God / 2"~ An example of this mentality can be seen in an incident related by John Knox about a man who thought an error had crept into the text of Shakes-peare's As You Like It which reads, "books in running brooks, sermons in stones."~ This man thought that the lines must have originally read, "sermons in books, stones in running brooks." Reflecting on the man's observation, Knox remarks: A work of art is called "truer when it effectively embodies a real vision or mood of the artist, though its correspondence with any objective reality is remote indeed. Even in such a case, however, it would be rash to deny any kind of objective reference. When one calls a work "true,"does one not imply, at the very least, that the vision or mood is to some extent or at certain moments shared by others besides the artist and is therefore not entirely subjective? And does one not probably imply that there is something in the real situation of man in the world which gives rise io, or answers to, the artist's feeling? ¯ . . In other words, when we say there are "books in the running brooks," we are making a statement which, if we regard it as true at all, is for us objectively true--quite as much as the statement that stones are there. We mean that "running brooks" have something to teach us--that they really do.t0 The imagery used in a story possesses a certain power--a power not possessed by mere clear and distinct ideas as such--todraw the mind to truths by way of the imagination. However, clear and distinct ideas expressed in conceptual language is thought by many to be the only valid means of com-municating truth, as we can see from the words of the eighteenth-century philosopher, David Hume: If we take in our hand any volume of divinity, or school metaphysics, for instance; let us ask, Does it contain quantity or number? No. Does it contain an experimental reason-ing concerning matter of fact and existence? No. Commit it to the flames. For it can contain nothing but sophistry and illusion.~ This mentality fails to grasp that the nature of literary language is such that stories created by the imagination, while not factual in themselves, nevertheless present the reader with certain truths about reality. It is the "kind of language that can somehow work upon men and lead them to insight and even action, where a more conceptual language might fail."12 Fiction can contain truth precisely as imaginary; it can be expressive of reality.13 The human mind is not drawn by abstract reasoning alone, and man's life entails more than ideas. We come to learn from sense experience, and such experience cannot be conveyed adequately in abstract reasoning. This charism of literary language was not understood by the rationalist, Humian mind. To misunderstand this charism is to "alienate man from his own nature," a point stressed by Edward Schillebeeckx: We might say that it is empirically demonstrable that man is alienated from his own nature if he thinks he has finished with the symbolic thinking of the religious conscious-ness . But in our one-track Western culture we can also demonstrate that the exclusiveness and absolutism of purely, scientific and technological thought., allows whole areas of our humanity to die out or become stunted, and precisely in doing so alienates man from himself.~a 22 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 A ~:lose look, however, at the literary compositions appealing to popular society will reveal that, despite the tendency to downgrade the role of literary language in expressing truths, this charism of language is very prevalent in our contemporary world. Contemporary "Rock," for example, manifests the artist's expression of "truth through images." Simon and Garfunkel's famous song, "Bridge Over Troubled Water," uses such imagery to tell of devoted friendship in a time of personal struggle. Elton John, whose mu.sic appeals to millions of people throughout the world, expresses in ima~gery an autobio-graphical situation from his early adult life in a song entitled "Someone Saved My Life Tonight." In the song he speaks of his former relationship with a woman he describes as "a princess perched in an electric chair." By way of such imagery, he conveys to the listener something of the reality of that relationship. And many articles have been written about the great influence of the Beatles' songs on contemporary society.15 Their songs abound with colorful literary expressions~ It is by way of such imagery, and not in spite of it, that their message is conveyed. These are but a few examples from contemporary popular imagery-in-music that demonstrate the usage of imagery and symbol to convey thought. "People cannot live by abstractions alone"~6 but ~appeal time and again to the image, and this appeal is perennial. It is found not only in contemporary music but in contemporary literature. The current popularity of the writings of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien is evidence of the charism of literary language in contemporary culture. Those who read them are well aware of their fictitious nature, as are those who flock to see the Star Wars sagas and or.her such science-fiction marvels. "Our knowledge that the stories are not factual is neither here nor there. For the stories themselves have power to arouse certain moral attitudes . In addition to its function of allowing the human mind to be creative in conveying truth through story, there is another reason why the .human person seeks to express himself in some medium other than with clear and distinct ideas and conceptual language. This was touched upon.above in the quotation from Erich Fromm: oftentimes we cannot adequately express ourselves through conceptual language alone. Furthermore, not all of our experiences are capable of such expression. Such is the case with re!igious experience. Some other form of expression is needed. Mythopoeic Thought and the Charism of Literary Language Because of the charism of literary language, linguistic expression can be given to that part of reality which escapes scientific scrutiny but which is, nevertheless, real and a part of our existence. Such is the case, for example, with our human urge for survival, for justice, for happiness. These urges, which are universal, experienced by people of all cultures and generations, come into conflict with the historical, existential living out of our lives.~8 The desire for survival is our common experience. We do not desire life for a given Scripture: Literao, Text and the Word of God / 23 number of years only, but eternally; if given a choice we would not have our lives terminate. Whether by witch doctors or miracle vitamins, we seek to prolo.ng our lives, to avoid aging and death. The same is true regarding happiness: we seek happiness not for a predictable number of years but for all our years. We do not want finite happiness as contingent beings, but infinite happiness as immortal beings. The conflict arises when we find ourselves cruelly thwarted. The experience is traumatic. Answers to queries arising out of this conflict escape the scientist; they evade his scientific scrutiny. From the experience of ourselves as contingent, we realize that "man cannot ground the possibilities of his own existence, his knowledge and his ability in his own planning and his own reflection."19 Out of the conflict arises the question of God, and a merely scientific, conceptual language is not adequate to deal with such a reality as God. The human person, being at home with imagery pre-cisely as a human person, resorts to mythopoeic thought to give expression to queries such as the origin of evil and injustice; man's loss of immortality which he so ardently desires; "the origin of the world and of man; the nature of deity; the origins of society and of social institutions; the ultimate validation of moral principles; the purpose and direction of human existence."z° Incapable of being adequately expressed in conceptual language, such queries find expression in mythopoeic thought. Because the language of conversation rarely enables us "to share all the wealth of an experience, or to communicate the richness of what we live within ourselves,TM mythopoeic thought finds expression in and through the charism of literary language. Although the religious experience deals with "problems that lie beyond sensible experience,"~2 the mind can nonetheless give expres-sion to this experience. John Knox saw this need for mythopoeic expression in religious language: In a word, we find ourselves dramatizing or mythologizing. Use either of these terms you will or find some other: bul however you want to say it, the main point is clear and undeniable: we are no longer speaking factually or literally. We cannot speak so when we are speaking of God, for our speech can use ,only the terms provided by our human .experience and thought, and God transcends both. The divine, however near to, even pervasive of, the human it may be, is still essentially transhuman or superhuman.2s God-talk by its very nature den~ands an expression beyond that of the discursive language of the philosopher, an expression that transcends the philosophical. Schillebeeckx cautions that although our talk of God may be inadequate, that is no reason.for silence: Unless linguistic expression is given to the reality which escapes us but grounds our being, even though this may only be through the "poverty" of symbolic expressions, it threatens to disappear into forgetfulness.24 What the person of faith "has experienced," however partially or brokenly, and therefore needs to affirm is, in its fullness or at its source, 'out of this world.''~ When we read the Christian mystics, we notice their frustration at attempting to find words adequate enough to convey their religious experien- 94 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 ces.26 The very stating of the experience seems to make it something less than it is. This demonstrates that the mythopoeic form of expression is not simply an entertaining way of speaking, as in fairy tales, but is necessary if we would convey all of our experience of reality. If we are going to appreciate the language and literature of the Bible, we need to understand mythopoeic expression and how it was used by the peoples of the ancient Near East. Out of the cultures of the ancient Near East came the literature of the Bible, which we call sacred. Literary Language in the Ancient Near East For many centuries the literature of the Bible had to be studied and interpreted simply on its own merits since no extra-biblical literature was known that could elucidate its past. For example, there was no corresponding historical material to enable the scholar to judge the nature of the historical books of the Old Testament. Did they contain history properly understood by modern terms? Knowledge from the cultures of Israel's past was greatly lack-ing, knowledge that would help answer such questions. This situation has changed drastically over the last century due to the discovery of a great number of ancient Near Eastern texts relating to the Hebrew Bible that not only predate it, but bear some strong resemblances to its subject matter. The ancestors of Israel's traditions did not live in isolation but were greatly influ-enced by the predominant cultures of their day. Pius XII, in his encyclical on the study of Scripture, recommends the study of those ancient cultures: It is absolutely necessary for the interpreter to go back in spirit to those remote centuries of the East. and make proper use of the aids afforded by history, archaeology, ethnol-ogy and other sciences in order to discover what literary forms the writers of that early age intended to use and did in fact employ.27 By discovering the literary forms used by Israel's literary ancestors, we better understand the nature of the biblical literature. Innumerable parallels between the cultures of the ancient Near East and the Scriptures have been documented by scholars.28 The wealth of ancient Near Eastern texts discov-ered since the middle of the last century has revealed, among other literary genres, such genres as "epics and myths, hymns and lamentations, proverbs and 'wisdom' composition,"~9 and these from texts of various cultures: Egyp-tian, Mesopotamian, Hittite and Ugaritic.30 Mythopoeic expression was common throughout the ancient Near East. Would this have had an influence on the literature of Israel, even though this latter is said to include the "Word of God"?. Nahum Sarna explains that there was such an influence, and the influence was no slight one: In actual fact, no advanced cultural or religious tradition has ever existed in a vacuum; it cannot therefore be studied in isolation. This is all the more true of the people of Israel. who strode upon the stage of history at a time when the great civilizations of antiquity had already passed their prime . The ancestors of Israel originated in Mesopotamia, wandered through Syria and Canaan, and settled for a prolonged stay in Scripture: Literao, Text and the Word of God / 25 Egypt . The land of Israel enjoyed a location of unique strategic importance as a corridor connecting Europe. Asia and Africa, as well as a window to the Mediterranean lands. Through it crossed the arteries of international communications, and into it flowed the powerful cultural and religious influences of surrounding civilizations. It is no wonder that the culture of Canaan was a mixed one. for its geographic position perforce imparted to it a richly international character that impeded the maintenance of individuality and the development of cultural and religious independence. In view of all this. the discovery of numerous parallels between Israel and her neighbors should hardly occasion surprise and chagrin?~ It can be said, then, that Israel and her literature were certainly influenced by the dominant cultures of her past, just as the world today is influenced by dominant cultures: McDonald's golden arches are found in Paris; Levi jeans are worn in Africa; and Shakespeare is read in Polish. Israel utilized those methods of expression common in the ancient Near East. and she borrowed from their subject matter and imagery, all the while, however, making it her own. Her literature, then, can no longer be naively regarded as a "dictated" Word of God as if somehow removed from human experience and the modes of expression utilized by the human community. Rather, it is the Word of God mediated through a rich literary language. Literary Language in the Bible Although great progress has been made in our understanding of the Bible since the discovery of ancient Near Eastern texts, a confusion has resulted. Sarna remarks that ¯. the modern student of the Bible has at his disposal a formidable array of primary and secondary tools, the fruits of a century of intensive scholarly endeavor. Excellent new translations into modern English, a deluge of popular works on archaeology, a plethora of enyclopedias, dictionaries, historical atlases, reliable non-technical commen-taries of recent vintage, all deprive any literate person of the excuse of ignorance . But the crux of the matter is that in the eyes of modern, secularized man, the Bible has very largely lost its sanctity and relevance?2 ~ We seem to meet with two extremes among readers of the Bible: those who accept the results of the modern critical sciences and have come to understand the true lite'rary nature of Scripture, but as a result do not regard such litera-ture as inspired, and, on the other hand, those.who, intent on maintaining their faith in Scripture as the Word of God, reject the results of the methodologies of the critical sciences when applied to Scripture. Why is this? The predominance of evolutionary theories, the general awareness of the findings of modern science regarding the "birth" of the universe, and the results of comparat.ive studies showing the influence of ancient Near Eastern mythol-ogies on Scripture--all this has had great ramifications regarding the inspired character of the Bible. Genesis has lost its credibility, having been understood literally for so long and by so many. The modern critical sciences have done much to shed light on the literary characteristics of this literature. As a result of such studies, we know that Scripture expresses its message not simply through 26 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 historical narrative, but also by way of poetic narrative. Because the Bible is great literature, it may contain such literary genres as myth, fairy tale, fable, saga, legend, etc.33 For Jews and Christians the Old Testament is sacred and canonical. Faith proclaims that it is inspired: it is the Word of God. Now, when the modern critical sciences discover the presence of mythopoeic expres-sion in Scripture, should the person of faith regard these sciences as a challenge to his or her faith? Or does the Word of God in revelation find expression in and through the charism of literary language? In studying what he calls "the immanence of transcendence: the possibility of expressing the reality of revelation,''34 Schillebeeckx maintains that "trans-cendence lies in human experience." Revelation itself is not a reality apart from human experience: it can be expressed only in and through the medium of human language in such wise that God's revelation comes in the form 'of human ideas and words. This emphasis on the human situation will help us underStand just how God has acted to communicate his word to the human community. As Thomas Aquinas taught, "In the divine Scriptures, divine things are conveyed to us in the manner to which people are accustomed.''35 We experience reality. What is our common mode of expressing that expe-rience? Oftentimes. imagery and mythopoeic expression. If this is the manner to which we are accustomed, and the manner to which people of the ancient Near East were accustomed, should we be surprised, or our faith challenged, because the mythopoeic nature of some of the biblical narratives is made apparent by the modern sciences? Or should we be surprised that God would use this means, to which we are accustomed, to communicate his Word? On the contrary, such an understanding can only serve to enhance our apprecia-tion of that sacred literature. To lack this understanding is to misinterpret and invalidate the scriptural message. "The devastating effect of all this upon faith, when faith was exclusively identified with a literalist approach to Scripture, is abundantly obvious.''36 If for no other reason, Scripture has lost its credibility because modern man has failed to understand that God's word has come to us precisely in our human garb, the human garb of our language, so to speak. It is a failure on the part of the Christian to commit himself or herself to a living and pervading faith in the Incarnation. Scripture is the Word of God mediated through a mythopoeic expression, and richer by that very mediation. NOTES ~George ,P. Landow, The Aesthetic and Critical Theories of John Ruskin (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1971), p. 266. "-The Ent:vclopedia Americana. 1978 ed. s.v. "Ruskin, John." -~Mhson Olds, Stor.v: The Language of Faith (Washington, D.C.: University Press of America. 1977). p.5. '~Erich Fromm, The Forgotten language: An Introduction to the Understanding of Dreams. Scripture: Literary Text and the Word of God / 27 Fairy Tales and Myths (New York: Rinehart, 1951), p. II. ~Gerardus van der l,eeuw, Sacred and Profane Beaut),: The Holy in Art (New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston. 1963), p. 155. 6Luis Alonso Schoekel. The Inspired Word: Scripture in the Light of Language and Literature (New York: Herder & Herder. 1965), p. 160. 7peter Donovan, Religious Language (London: Shelden Press, 1976). p. 29. 8Philip Freund. Myths of Creation (New York: Washington Square Press, 1965), p. 20. '~John Knox, Myth and Truth." An Essay on the Language ~?f Faith (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 1964). p. 19. The reference is to Shakespeare's As You Like It, Act II, Scene I. ~Olbid., pp. 20 & 21. ~Donovan, Religious Language. p. 16. ~2John MacQuarrie, God-Talk." An Examination of the Language and Logic of Theology (New York: Harper& Row. 1967), p. 205. MacQuarrie is citing from Hebert's The Bible From Within, p. 176. ~JDonovan, Religious Language. p. 29. ~'~Edward Schillebeeckx, Christ." ~he Experience ~f Jesus as Lord (New York: Seabury Press, 1980), p. 58. ~See, for example, 77me. Dec. 22, 1980. ~rRene Wellek and Austin Warren. Theory of Literature (New York: Harcourt, 1956), chapter 12. ~TDonovan, Religious Language. p. 26. ~SThe following are ideas expressive of those heard in a class at the Graduate Theologic~il Union from Professor Kevin Wall. This notion of the conflict between a person's expected desires or urges and his actual, existential situation of life lived in the world is referred to by Professor Wall as the "myth/history conflict." ~gSchillebeeckx, Christ, p. 47. -'°John L. McKenzie. "Aspects of Old ~estament Thought~" Jerome lh'blical Commentary 77:23 (Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice-Hall, 1968), p. 740. -'~Alonso Schoekel, The Inspired Word. p. 159. 2~McKenzie, "Aspects," p. 740: -'-~Knox, Myth and Truth. p. 5. ' 2'~Schillebeeckx, Christ. p. 55. ~SKnox. Myth and Truth. p. 81. ~'Such was the case, for example, with St. Catherine of Siena. During a mystical experience brought,on in prayer, Raymond of Capua (her confessor) heard her say, Vidi arcana Dei: "1 have seen the secret things of God." Raymond recounts that, "When, after a great length of time, she returned to her bodily senses sh,e kept repeating the expression Vidi arcana dei. Wishing to know the reason for this 1 said, "Mother. why do you keep saying the same thing over and over again. instead of drawing out for us as usual the meaning o,f what you say, or of adding a word or two of explanation?' 'Because,' she said, '1 find it quite impossible to say anything else. or put it into other words.' "But why,'~ I asked. 'do you find this so now, when you never did before?". 'Because.' she said, 'on this occasion ! am so conscious of how inadequate human words are to express .what I saw. I should feel as if I were only belittling God, and profaning him, by any words I could say. When the mind is rapt in God. and is granted the light and the ability to fix its gaze on him. what it contemplates so far surpasses anything that can be put into words that the one thing seems to be the negation of the other. No: this time I cannot attempt to give you even a faint idea of the things 1 have seen. They cannot be encompassed within the limits by which human speech is bound'" [emphasis added]: Raymond of Capua. The Life of Catherine of Siena, tra,ns, by Conleth Kerns (Wilmington, Delaware: Michael Glazier, Inc., 1980), p. 179. ~TPius XII. Divino A.fflante Spiritu. EB 560. -'SNahum Sarna, Understanding Genesis (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1966), p. xxvi. ~S.N. Kramer, Sumerian Mythology: A Study ~f Spiritual and Literary Achievement in the Third Millennium B.C (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1944). p. 13. ~0See Walter Beyerlin. ed. Near Eastern Religious Texts Relating to the Old Testament (Phila-delphia: Westminster Press, 1978). -~Sarna. Understanding Genesis, pp. xxvi-xxvii. -~'-Ibid. p. xx. ~-~See John I. McKenzie. "The Literary Characteristics of Genesis 2-3," Theological Studies 15 (1954). p. 546. See such scriptural pas'sages as I K 17:7-16; 2 K 4:1-7: 14:9: Nb 22:22-35: and the story of Sodom in Gn 19. ~Schillebeeckx, Christ. p. 55. 35St. Thomas says, "In scriptura autem divina traduntur nobis per modum quo homines solent uti. "Comm. on Heb. ch. I, 1,4 ,quote0 in Alonso Schoekel, The li~spired Word. p. 44. Images of Job Jesse Nash, O.S.B. Brother Nash resides in St. Meinrad Archabbey; St. Meinrad. IN 47577. Every age has its heroes. Religious ages venerate saints and martyrs. Rebellious and turbulent ages tend to venerate rebels and even anti-heroes. Our age is curious in that it is characterized by both tendencies. One would naturally suppose that the heroes of traditional religious groups will sharply clash with those figures idolized by more secular, non-traditional groups in our society. Ahd such is typically the case. What the religious imagination sees as'a virtue, the non-religious or secular imagination disdains. Rarely do both camps find themselves prizing the same figure, whether histori-cal or legendary, as a hero. But the literary character Job is an example of such an exception. Both the traditional religious imagination and the contemporary imag-ination, which includes rebellious religious persons as well as non-religious ones, claim Job as their own. It is the oddity of this dual claim which has prompted this essay. The Book of Job as a Story Like an intricately designed puzzle, the book of Job frustrates the scholar and exegete. It is difficult, some say impossible, to translate. As to how the book came to its final, present form, which is a combination of poetry and prose, scholars are not in agreement. Nor are they in agreement as to how the various parts of the puzzle should really be fit together into one harmonious whole. The questions the book raises are legion. In spite of scholarly difficulties ,with the book of Job, the character of Job has been for centuries a hero of the religious imagination. For Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, Job the man has been a hero to be imitated.~ More specifically, .lob was thought to be a model of patience in the face of a~Jversity. St. James represented all Images of Job / 29 three of these great religious traditions when he used Job as an example for his congregation to imitate: "You have heard of the steadfastness of Job, and you have seen the purpose of the Lord, and how the Lord is compassionate and merciful" (5:11). In more recent times Job the man has become a hero of another sort altogether for both the religious and the secular imaginations. Job as a model of patience has been replaced with the model of Job the rebel. Job has even been adopted by the existentialists as one of their own. Today the Job who shakes his fist at the heavens in outrage and the Job who broods over the meaning of life is of more fascination than the older, more traditional view of Job. Scholars and. laity alike are more attracted to Job the impatient than Job the patient? How, we might ask, could two such contradictory models be constructed around the same literary figure? One reason for this difference in models lies in the structure of the book of Job itself, which looks something like this: 1. Prologue chapters I-2 11. Job's Laments and Debates chapters 3-27 111. A Hymn to Wisdom chapter 28 IV. The Debates Continued chapters 29-37 V. The Divine Speeches chapters 38-41 VI. Epilogue chapter 42 In the prologue and epilogue, the book is basically in prose. The rest of the book is mostly poetic in style. In the prologue Job is patient, and at the end of the divine speeches he surrenders to God, repenting in the end (40:3-5: 42: I-6). From these sections of the book the model of Job the patient was constructed. A different picture of Job is found in his laments and in his argumehts with his friends--here Job is not only impatient, he is rebellious. Thus we have the two models. Of course, the problem with either model is that it relies only on sections of the book congenial to the desired model. The book as a whole is often ignored. When this happens we are only given a glimpse of one image of Job when in fact there are three distinct images of Job in the book: one of patience, one of impatience or rebellion, and one of repentance. The images, at first glance, appear to be contra-dictory. How do we reconcile Job's rebellion with his final repentance? Some have chosen to ignore the repentance as though it were out of place in the book. But as Bernhard Anderson has pointed out, the fact that Job repents is the key to the book as a whole.3 Several scholars, along with Anderson, have stressed that the book of Job should be read as a story.4 By reading the book as a story with each of the various sections belonging together, we find that we do not have to choose between the model of Job the patient and Job the rebel. Neither model really reflects the whole story, so to speak. To choose ,lob the rebel over Job the patient or repentant (or vice versa) neglects the fact that in the book we catch glimpses of at least three moments in the life of a literary figure as he attempts to understand himself, his suffering, his world and his God. To read the book of Job as a story is to read the 30 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 movement of one person from self-assured patience to open rebellion to finally repentance and reconciliation with God. From Patience to Impatience In the prologue, chapters I-2, Job is presented as a successful family and business man with considerable wealth in terms of land, livestock, and servants, He was also blessed with many children. Both the extent of his wealth and the number of his children were signs of God's blessing in the popular piety of the day. Of course, the reason for this blessing was Job's righteousness. He was "blameless and upright, one who feared God, and turned away from evil" (I:1). 'The depth of his piety can be seen in his concern for the spiritual welfare of his children: ¯. he would rise early in the morning and offer burnt offerings according to the number of them all: for Job said. "lt may be that my sons have sinned, and cursed God in their hearts." Thus Job did continually (1:5). Such a description not only serves to draw attention to Jo.b's piety, it also points to his wisdom. Although his children had every reason to be contented and thankful to the Lord. the possibility of alienation from God was always present. When misfortune did strik~ Job's children, servants, and property, he reacted as a wise man should. He mourned his loss and worshipped God (1:20). He was steadfast, as St. James said. and reconciled his loss with his faith in God: Naked I came from my mother~ womb, and naked shall 1 return: the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away: blessed be the name of the Lord. In all this he did not sin or charge God with wrong ( 1:21-22). Even when Job himself is afflicted with sores over his body, he remains stead-fast. To his goading wife, he retorts: "Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil" (2:10)? Job's so-called patience was maintained because of his conviction that come what may, good or bad, it comes from God. Thus suffering was something to be endured. This too was part of the popular piety of the Ancient Near East (see Pr 3:1.1-12). ' Needless to say. Job's patience does not last long. As Job's patience ends in the story so does the prologue and thus begins Job's poetic lamentations and debates with his friends. Still, Job does not curse God. Rather. he curses the gift of life: "Let the day perish wherein 1 was born, and the night which said. 'a man child is conceived'" (3:3). His friends protest his outburst. Life. as a gift from God, was sacred to these people. Moreover. and here is a point often missed. Job's outburst is out of character for him. Eliphaz chides him: Behold, you have ,instructed many, and you have strengthened the weak hands. Your words have upheld him who was stumbling, and you have made firm the feeble.knees. But now it has come to you, and you arc impatient: it touches you, and you are dismayed (4:3-5): Images of Job / 31 Having helped others, Job now finds himself unable to cope with his own suffering and pain. He is forced to admit he hasn't the strength to be patient (6:11-13).~ Sheol is a nicer alternative than his present life (3:13-19). Sense of God and Sense of Self Job's patience and wisdom crumble before his pain. He is not being true to form, his friend Eliphaz notes. He becomes rebellious and argues with his friends. Claiming that he has not sinned, he argues that he does not deserve to stiffer in such a way (6:10). His outbursts are directed against God as well: "Why hast thou made me thy mark? Why have 1 become a burden to thee" (7:20)? Being bold in his anger, he would even presume to argue face to face with God to defend himself and the record of his life (13:3-5). Such a posture from Job has led John Bowker to think that Job's "sense of God" has been radically altered. Job no longer knows what to expect from his God, who is supposed to reward the righteous and not punish them.5 But is this actually the case? Did Job's experience of suffering cause him to question the very God he worshipped in the prologue? This question is crucial because'on it hinges the model of Job the rebel. Roland Murphy sheds some light on the question. He notes that Job is expe-riencing "the dark side of God.''6 This side of God'is not new to Job or the reader of the book. In the prologue we are told that God is going to allow Job to be tested (1:8-12: 2:3-6). This is the Hebrew way of saying that God is not above such a thing. The reader is almost immediately confronted with "the dark side of God," Job himself in the prologue relates his misfortunes to the hand of God and claims that evil as well as good should be accepted from God. And in his laments Job never doubts the existence of this side of God. The God Job worships in the prglogue is the same God he rages against in his lamentations. True, Job does rebel, but he rebels because he himself has become a victim of this side of God. Where before he counseled and consoled the victim, now he is one himself. Ironically, he asks: What is man. that thou dost make so much of him, and that thou dost set thy mind upon him. dost visit him every morning, and test him every moment? (7:17). Job has always been aware of this side of God, the testing side. But now that he personally is affected by it he questions the rationale .behind this possibility of the God-human relationship. Becoming more rebellious, he even questions the ration-ale behind punishing sinners: "It~ I sin, what do I do to thee, thou watcher of men" (7:20)? It is Job's "sense of self" that has radically shifted. He complains about the nature of a person's sojourn on earth in general--it is like that of a hired-hand (7:1). Old age also stares at him: "my life is a breath" (7:7), he tells his friends. Angrily, he is forced to conclude that suffering is only an additional complicating factor in the problematic nature of a person's life. 32 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 Job's sense of self is shattered by the greeting he gets from his social world. His friends wrongly associate his affliction with sin. His affliction (remember, he is covered with sores) has ostracized him from his natural acquaintances (19:13-19). Worst of all, "I am repulsive to my wife" (19:!7). His frfistration and rage are exemplified in his protest to his friends: "Why should I not be impatient? Look at me, and be appalled, and lay your hand upon your mouth. When I think of it I am dismayed, and shuddering seizes my flesh" (21:5-6). And while all this has hap-pened to Job, the wicked prosper and grow old peacefully (21:7-21). Tested by God and shunned by his social world, Job rebels. One can under-stand his preference for the peace and rest of Sheol (1:13-19). What one cannot understand is how Job got the reputation over the centuries for being patient. But neither is Job's rebellion the last word in the story. To Repentance Job demanded a face-to-face showdown with God so as to resolve the issues he had raised. Yet when God does appear, much to the surprise of the reader, God does not defend himself by resolving the issues. In the divine speeches (chapters 38-41) God is on the offensive, asking some questions of his own: where was Job at creation or can Job control creation? Job is overwhelmed and concludes: "Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer thee" (40:4)? And finally, "I had heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees thee: therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes" (42:5-6). But why does Job repent? God does not actually absolve Job as he had demanded. Instead, Job is given a whirlwind tour of, in G. K. Chesterton's famous phrase, "an idiotic universe," a universe in which the wild ass (39:5ff), the wild ox (39:9ff), the ostrich (39:13ff), Behemoth or the hippopotamus (40:15-24), and even Leviathan or the crocodile (the subject of all of chapter 41) are the wonders that attest to God's glory and power. God here literally sings a hymn of praise to the ostrich, the hippopotamus, and the crocodile, creatures ugly or dangerous to humans. But these are the wonders of the universe according to God. He even seems proud of his "idiotic universe." God's description of the wonders of the universe catches Job off guard, so to speak. "What is man that you make so much of him?" Job had asked earlier. God replies by making much of creatures ugly or dangerous. The divine speeches force . Job to realize that he is not the center of the universe and that humans are not the only concerns God has. In regard to the meaning of the divine speeches, Robert Gordis notes: "The universe was not created exclusively for man's use, and therefore neither it nor its creator can be judged solely by man's standards and goals,w ' Job's rebellion was against his world and his God. God appears and shows him how little Job actually knows and understands. To demand to know the reason for suffering is to ask for more than is possible for humans. But God does not himself offer an easy answer. He confirms Job's suspicions that he has indeed created "an Images of Job / 33 idiotic universe." Nevertheless, a person's first obligation is not to understand but to give glory to the creator come what may.8 By his rebellion Job has caused an imbalance in the divine-human relationship. His repentance restores that relationship. onclusion Perhaps the unnerving thing about the book of Job for the reader of any age is that Job does repent. God in his confrontation with Job never addresses the problem of the suffering of the righteous or even the problem of ordinary living, both of which came to frustrate Job. Rather, God in the divine speeches accepts the world as his creation. He lays claim to it in spite of how crazy the world may appear to us. Job repents, but God declares to his friends that Job had spoken correctly of God (42:7). By his repentance Job accepts God in spite of unanswered questions and "an idiotic universe." Herein may lie a model worth our imitation, a model more challenging than those of Job the patient or the rebel. NOTES ~Nahum N. Glatzer, The Dimensions of Job: A Study and Selected Readings (New York: Schocken Books, 1969), pp. 12-34. 2Qoheleth has also been appropriated by some as a rebel or as an existentialist. For a critique of the use of Job and Qoheleth in such a manner see Robert Gordis, Koheleth-- The Man and His World. 3rd ed. (New York: Schocken Books, 1968), pp. 112-28. 3Bernhard W. Anderson. Understanding the Old Testament, 3rd ed. (Eng!ewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1975), p. 559. 4See Glatzer, p. 4: Robert Gordis, The Book of Job: Commentao', New Translation, and Special Studies (New York: The Jewish Theological Seminary of America and KTAV, 1974): William J. Whedbee. "The Comedy of Job," in Semeia, 7 (1977), pp. 1-39. 5John Bowker, The Religious Imagination and the Sense of God (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1978), p. 100. ~'Roland E. Murphy, The Psalms, Job, Proclamation Commentaries (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1977). p. 79. 7Gordis. The Book of Job, p. 435. SAnderson. p. 558. A Word On Tomorrow's Renewal M. Helen Hardebeek, O.S.B. Sister Helen has been a member of the Benedictine community of Boerne, Texas. since 1960, and is presently working with Benedictine Sisters in Mexico City. She has attended both public and private universities. She writes "influenced by the totality of these experiences . prompted by a strong desire to encourage my sister and brother religious to see the long-range nature of our renewal efforts." Sister Helen may be addressed at Rio Bamba #870: Delegaci6n Gustavo Madero: Mexico 14. DF. 07300. Tired of talking about renewal? Want to know when we are finally going to settle down? You may be in for a shock: we've only just begun. The thing about renewal is that it never should have stopped happening in the Church in the first place. But stop it did--and that fact stands to warn us that stop it can again. We are made of the same weary bones and tired blood and change-resistant mentalities as those who first began to settle for the routine churchiness which provoked John XXIII to call for an opening of windows in the 1960's. Fifteen to twenty years later, most American Roman Catholic religious communities have lived through renewal processes; whether they have lived through renewal experiences remains an open question. Ask a representative religious (if you cannot find a representative religious; ask just any religious you come across), "How is your community renewing itself?." The answer very likely will be, "We already did." Thus do we set ourselves up a~ marvels of.grace or as paragons of delusion. It is a little like asking, "Are you looking forward to springtime?" and being told, "l've already seen one." Members of a community may feel that they have "renewed"just because they have studied and revised constitutions, set up group-defined goals and objectives, and established committees to evaluate the results of the efforts directed toward achieving those goals and meeting those objectives, While 34 A Word on Tomorrow's Renewal such efforts do indicate a willingness to travel toward renewal, they are no indication that renewal has indeed taken place. True, many aspects of our communities have changed, but l~t's face it: not all change is in the direction of renewal, and we are not always wise and clever and alert enough to catch the difference right away--although we may be scandalized at the thought that for all our prayer and sincerity, We, as groups, actually can make mistakes. Perhaps one of the biggest mistakes we are tempted to make is that of canonizing ourselves before our time, thinking that because we have asked the Spirit to guide us and have trusted the Spirit to guide us, thereby we must have made excellent decisions. The truth is that we--none of us--are immune from the probability of making some mistakes--even in prayed-over group deci-sions. We get together, trust, and do the best we can with the information and inspiration at hand. Nevertheless, it can turn out that, with the best will in the world, groups have made decisions which ultimately do not result in the authentic renewal of ministries and of lives that was intended. And~that does not say that the Spirit hds not been with us! After all, whole masses of populations lack success, lack necessities, lack knowledge, even though the working of the Spirit in their lives may be pro-found-- so profound, in fact, that our age probably will not know what groups and which actions have been truly effective in renewing the face of the earth. Looking at the poor and the oppressed and the ignorant~ one could judge that all they do and have done is to make mistakes! But we don't know. And we don't know about ourselves~ either. So one day we may discover that we have made some bad decisions. Does that mean that the Spirit is not with us, "or was not present at the time of the decision-making? Let us transpose the questions to another level: Is the Spirit not with prayerful poor or oppressed or ignorant persons? H~ive we made successful results to be our criteria by which to judge the value of prayer? It is-not necessarily success that characterizes the value of our renewal efforts. True renewal is characterized by love--a love that keeps growing in the same Spirit~regardless of success or failure, a love that does not allow factions to develop--factions made up of those who knew better all along, those who should have known better in the first place, and those who, in the clear light of hindsight, can now tell us better. Is renewalactive within the hearts of the cOmmunity members? If.so, then renewal is active within the fiber of~the community, and that community will be renewed. Ask ~f the community is loving, open, to the ideas of each person, or are there m(mbers whose ideas are always disregarded a priori because, for example, they "talk all the time without thinking!" Some people, unfortunately pei'haps, think by talking: as a result, much of what they say gets tuned out. Yet, in a "controlled-process situation," where solitary reflection is insisted upon as a pre-requisite to the sharing of insights, the tuning out of anyone by any6ne else is definitely a sigff of bad will, and a hindrance to the renewals process. 36 / Review.for Religious. Jan.-Feb. 1983 Another instance: does a clique of judges hold court privately on the inner workings and outer behaviors of the group? Thoughtful dialogue about per-ceived problems and weaknesses can be a sign of a loving community because thoughtful dialogue imp!ies a sincere desire to include ever more intensely Christ who is present where two or three are gathered in his name; but carping criticism is as different from thoughtful dialogue as chewing gum is from eatirig a hearty meal. Attempts at dialogue with chronic complainers are a wrong-way drive down a one-way street--just that pleasant, and just that effective. On the other hand, dialogue, which includes elements of constructive criticism, can be useful and invigorating. is the community loving? Does every person feel free to express opinions and to raise questions, knowing that the opinion expressed will be valued, and that questions asked will be seen not as signs of stupidity, but rather as signs of sincerity? ls the community loving? Or would a member cringe who has to ask for a substitute to wash dishes, a driver to the doctor, a helper on a project which is running late. So many indications of love, or its absence, could be listed--and most of them come down to simple, everyday acts which indicate an unselfish-ness, a lack of self-importance, a kind way of thinking. The process of renewal should, of its nature, be !ight, joyful, and exciting. What was old is becoming young again! What was broken is being healed! What was listless is being invigorated! When renewal is experienced as tire-some, dull, irksome, something is wrong. The mark has been missed. Better to stop and play a game or put a vase of flowers on the table: to sing a song or have an ice cream party. If we are truly renewing, we are becoming more and more like the happiest people who have ever lived: Jesus, whose awareness of the Father kept him headed toward the breathtaking experience of Resurrec-tion; our founders, whose glimpses of what it means to help others come into contact with Eternal Beauty made their lives adventure stories. Our founding documents brim with the possibilities open in life for you and for me. If we are not filled with happy thanksgiving for creation, not convinced that life is a splendid opportunity for sharing a magnificent message, then we still need renewing. How do we become and stay renewed? A lot depends on attitude. We can go through a group process and come out animated or disgusted--it depends on attitude. Any process can fail if those who come to it are disgruntled because they have to work in small groups, or because they had to stop what they were doing to come to "another meeting," or because they have convinced themselves that processes are for the purpose of manipulation. If process after process results in a heavy, sarcastic atmosphere, it may be time to say, "Per-haps we are not going to be renewed. Maybe we are going to die." And a funeral service could well be the next process--to lay to rest the hopes and dreams of the founder, the hopes and dreams that this group had been ¯ intended to realize today. A Word on Tomorrow's Renewal As we have seen, negative attitudes can sabotage renewal efforts. Positive attitudes, however, can enliven these efforts with ease and graciousness. Con-sider, as an example, the study of revised constitutions. As mentioned earlier, a study does not, in itself, guarantee or signify renewal--but the spirit in which a study is undertaken can be, indeed, a sign of renewal, if the corporate and individual qualities of Christian love highlight the interaction as the members explicate their documents together. Usually revised constitutions are couched in current theological terms-- which undoubtedly are interpreted differently among the membership. A study of these terms and of the varying understandings can be a fruitful "grassroots" source of reflection; and when it turns out that interpretations do differ, perhaps drastically, that is just fin!! Why not? Go through your community's constitution by yourself sometime. Is every phrase crystal clear? Is every underlying assumption apparent and familiar to you? Do you have a suspicion that there is more being implied than a cursory reading indicates? Or do you have other suspicions: that you know exactly what particular passages mean to certain others of your group and that your own interpretation differs vastly from theirs? The process of revising constitu-tions was intended to provide a theoretical framework wherein renewal could take place. The riches of our revised documents may be far greater than we realize, especially if we have not given ourselves the benefit of taking a close look at the fine print, and more especially, if we have not taken advantage of the opportunity to share our insights with others, and of learning from their impressions and reactions. Firm understanding of our own thought takes time; firm understanding of one another's thoughts is an even slower process. It is also tricky in that we must constantly allow for change (growth) in our own and in the other's thinking. However, if we are to know both ourselves and our documents, we may need to face up not only to the inspirational aspects, but also to the hard questions that result when differing interpretations are discussed openly. Did anyone ever say not to question our documents? The asking of searching questions may be a great source of renewal, particularly the asking of searching questions by our own Companions, within the context of our own communities. If we are fortunate enough to belong to a group that is honest, open, and tolerant, we can increase in our appreciation of the elusive nature of truth. As we ponder truth's way of moving past our present understandings, its way of surrendering itself only to the most persistent of pursuers, we can grow in our appreciation of the ongoing nature of truthful renewal--and we will not grow tired. On the contrary, we will grow livelier as we support one another as individuals, as we contribute to the cohesiveness and effectiveness of our communities, and as we witness in our ministries that ongoing efforts are needed if we are to become an ever-renewed people on our way to an ever-new God. Am I Growing Spiritually? Elements for a Theology of Growth Matthias Neuman, O.S.B. Father Neuman is a Professor of Theology at St. Meinrad Seminary. An earlier article, "The Contemporary Spirituality of the Monastic Lectio." is still available as a reprint. Father Net~man may be addressed at St. Meinrad Seminary: St. Meinrad, IN 47577. ecently a student at our seminary expressed his judgment about the quality of the theological and spiritual training offered to him: "Because of the many talents, and abilities of our faculty I am sometimes overwhelmed by the,vast-ness of what one should know and be. This has contributed to .a feeling of insecurityand incompetence on my part in tackling pastoral duties and spir-itual responsibilities." In a later conversation this student indicated that the variety of theological disciplines, the pluralism within each discipline, and the multiplicity of personal spiritualities forced him toward too many choices and subsequently a stalled indecision towards his professional and spiritual devel-opment. This young man. rather sharply reflects the problem that confronts many people today. The American religious scene corrals a grab bag of inter-ests, from mysticism to social action, from pure rationalism to biblical funda-mentalism, from family-c~ntered religion to process cosmology. The spiritually minded individual, fortunately or unfortunately, gets exposed to most of these religious trends at"some time or other. Besides being intellectually confusing this incredible mixture tends to stall one's personal integration, growth and competence in the spiritual life. In this article I wish to explore the possibility and issues of a viable "theology of spiritual growth.L' I would like to search out some concrete directives by which a Christian adult might seriously look at his or her life and give a satisfying response to the question: "Am ! growing spiritually?" 38 Am I Growing Spiritually? / 39 This tremendous concern of faith-minded adults for their o~,n spiritual growth cannot be separated from the larger thrust of American religion into the realm of interiority and spirituality. At the outset it would be good to take some time to clarify what is meant by the two terms spirituality and spiritual growth. At least in Roman Catholic circles, and I suspect beyond, spiritualio, has become a "hot" subject in recent years. Books, workshops, prayer seminars and directed retreats proliferate and vie for the increasing crowd of concerned believers intent on deepening their faith. This movement in spirituality high-lights a number of concerns in American religious practice. There is, first, the desire to break through the abstractions and formalismsof religion to gain a personal, immediate contact with God. This desire also wants to go beyond the generality of scriptural l~hrases such as "life in the Spirit" and "following the Lord." These are certainly important but they need to be fleshed out with a commonsense language of our time and culture. Second, prayer is viewed,as "being-in-the-presence-of" the Divine rather than an obligatory addressing of the Deity; it is personal communion with God. Third, by means of spirifuality people wish to free their emotions and use their real-life experiehces as their primary religious foundation in place of theoretical dogmas. And, lastly, the spirituality thrust calls each man and woman to develop a very persOnal and intimate religious practice. These concerns convey some of the flavor of the spirituglity movement, but they do not make precise the structured shifts that take place in the religious practice.of people. Fo.r this we need to know the basic elements of any spiritu-° ality. I would like to suggest four constitutive elements which are always operative, either explicitly or implicitly, within a given spirituality9 I. The point at which God touches people in their dai~v lives. The~real, generating source of any spirituality is found where the person oi" per~ns s~e~nse the p,resence of Mystery or of the Transcendent in their everyday lives. Wher-ever we sense that a power beyonff draws us out of ourselves and gives us a feeling of awe or of selfless love (the Holy), then a spirituality begins.2 Those everyday moments, places, events or persons which join us to the Transcen-dent ground the structural origin of any sPirituality. 2. The supports constructed to protect and nourish this experience of Mystery. The instinctive reaction to an experience of the Holy is to surround it with activities: derived from our best abilities, which are intended to'shore up and protect, and thus contribute to the likelihood that the Mystery will appear to us again. Whatever form these follow-up activities take, they constitute the intrinsic "devotions" of the spirituality. 3. A method of.focusing one's attention,for the renewed encounter with Mystery. Such styles of "attending" are, in fact, methods of prayer. From a phenom, enological perspective, every style of prayer--meditation or contem-plation, communal or ritual movement--reflects a particular way of organiz- 40 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 19~3 ing and stimulating consciousness to prepare for Mystery. 4. A method of growth and conversion. Every spirituality encloses some plan for extending the benefits and riches of one's contact with God into all other areas of one's life. To meet the Transcendent must rearrange values, and that rearrangement must automatically push itself into all other parts of a person's total !ife-world. A spirituality, then, inherently implies some kind of spiritual growth. This last item of the structure of spirituality needs development, thus bringing us to the major concern of this paper: a theology of spiritual growth. Our American culture is obsessed by the need for progress. People feel compelled to constant growth--intellectually, personally and spiritually. Not unlike so many consumer products that we buy, each year (we feel) we should be able to measure ourselves as "new and improved."This often rabid quest mirrors the ethos of American modernity itself, the cumulative result of indus, trialization, technology, mass media and the.myth of prbgress.3 This cultural storm has flooded into the religious milieu of America as well, engulfing all the branches of the Christian tradition. The myth of contin-ual growth, the American dream, has ever so forcefully incorporated itself into our religious practice and hopes. People feel an intense need to be able to measure and plot their progress toward God. They ask for special courses and practica in spirituality, faith formation and prayer. They seek out spiritual directors with whom to identify evidences of their spiritual growth. This state of affairs generates a plethora of problems. First of all, few people seem to have any clear idea or conviction about what "spiritual growth" really consists of, or how to measure it. Like myths about sex, views of spiritual growth get passed around from popularized article to popularized conference. Countless people strive constantly to improve, to grow, but end up terribly frustrated because they aren't sure if they are getting anywhere-- because adequate criteria and a coherent theory are lacking. Marshall McLuhan once wrote: "The price of eternal vigilance is indifference,TM an ominou~warning for so many who cast themselves headlong into plans of spiritual regeneration. This presents us with a serious problem in Christian spirituality today. In the remainder of this article, I will try to indicate some componen~ts of a theology of spiritual growth which might assist Christians to make a better evaluation of their lives in their journey towards the Mystery of God. Three points, will be specifically addressed: i) the necessity of a critique of cultural theories of human growth; 2) a better use of Christian religious rcseurces as a foundation for valid spiritual growth; and 3) the importance of increasL,g *he role of personal responsibility for one's spiritual growth. The Necessity of a Critique of Growth Theories In the last quarter century, under the onslaught of the psychological revo-lution, an ~er-increasing array of theories of human growth have established Am I Growing Spirituall.v? / 41 themselves as elements of the American cultural scene. Philip Rieff's prophetic warning has ~come of age: Psychological Man lives by the ideal of insight--practical, experimental insight leading to the mastery of his own personality. Psychological Man has turned away from his Occidental preoccupation with transforming the environment and converting others. Rather. he now more nearly imitates the Oriental ideal of salvation through self-contemplative manipulation.5 Some perception and schematizing of human growth has traditionally bei:n a part of all folk wisdoms and religious traditions. The transition from child to adult was always hcknowledged, and a large portion of folk literature dealt'with the shifts in behavior, attitude and community-esteem that attach to the passage from boy to man or girl to woman. Similarly, religious traditions Of every kind have alwa3)~ sought to understand the fundamental ~hifts that occur in the course of human life and how this changes the individual relation-ship with God; the Hindu schema of Student-Householder-Wanderer-Holy Person serves as a typical example.6~However, these traditional understandings of human growth have been sharply accentuated and developed in our hyper-psychologized milieu. Not too long ago psychologists began to delineate more precise stages of growth--down to year-by-year and month-by-month. In addition to more narrowly identifying the temporal sequence, they also expanded the list of means by which such growth should occur. One fairly recent book lists a sample of the ways available to contemporary Americans, offering us growth by means of play, breathing, extended perception, smell, taste, touch, sex, family, encounter groups, peak experiences, gestalt therapies, LSD dreams, meditation, training intuition, psychedelic experiences and-- finally--relaxation .7 In such a supercharged atmosphere, is it any wonder that people start Worrying about "having to grow"?. They check themselves month by month to keep tabs on the normalcy of their progress. A man in a parish once told me of his anxiety that his mid-life crisis hadn't started on time! People can get abnormal trying too hard to be normal. A good theology of spiritual growth ought to address this issue head-on. Available theories are legion in our society. Just consider the complexities of balancing together Piaget's cognitive development,8 Erikson's psycho-social theory of growth,9 l~ohlberg's stages of moral development,10 Richard Jones' structuring of imaginal growth,~ Daniel Levinson's modeling of adult life-transitions, 12 and Elizabeth Kuebler-Ross' enumeration of the stages of dying.~3 Apparently the negotiation of one's way through that maze begins with the first month of life and never ends until the final breath. It would be a grim and determined individual who would seek never to sway from the tough road of.such normalcy: "Narrow is the path that leads to life and few there are who follow it" (Mt 7:!4)! What I find distressing is how easily and totally those growth schemas are imported wholesale into spiritual thinking and writing. Piaget and Kohlberg 42 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 are assumed to present ready-made outlines for faith development.14 Erikson's schema is accepted as the basis for identifying the major steps of adult religious conversion.~5 Levinson's adult life-transitions provide the hidden key to a mid-life "spirituality of crisis."16 . 1 would like to suggest that a theology of spiritual growth ought to provide a much deeper and more detailed critique of these'theories of human growth and their uses for spirituality. While there is much excellent research in these cultural theories of growth and development,and while they certainly offer a mine of insights to be tapped for a theology of spirituality, there is still a need for religious prudence in the acceptance of them.' Too often, for instance,, one encounters the feeling that the accurate following of this or that theory becomes binding ,for human happiness. "Normalcy" equals happiness and fulfillmen!! A theology of spiritual growth should exercise some critical defla-tion of such expectations. ,. Again, readers of psychological theories frequently assume~that a particu-lar age-related growth pattern can be made the target of personal decision and attacked forthwith. They forgetthat the most such schemes can accomplish for any individual is to provide possible awareness-points along the way toward long-range programs and decisions, points which might possibly help people to locate the source of some of their present blockages in one or other unre-solved issue of their past lives. There are, in other words, no instant panaceas. In seeking for balance in the utilization of these chronological growth patterns, a theology of spiritual growth would do well to brush off discarded philosophy books, rehabilitating, for instance, the existentialist notion of "event."~7 In the making of a human life, the setting of attitudes, actions and hopes is as much the result of the particular and unique events which happen to an individual as it is of the unfolding of any chronologically structured growth scheme. Most life events occur without our previous consent,'even though others may be defiberately planned and executed. The powerful exis-tentialist insight into event, however, has recently been smothered, philosophi-cally, in the waves of' structuralism. Bonhoeffer's Letters and Papers from Prison provide a good example of one man whose mind, heart and vision had been irrevocably changed and shaped by his unplanned prison experience.~8 Other areas cannot be developed here. But let me suggest that any ade-quate theology of spiritual growth must incorporate and develop four basic d~,namics of human and spiritual deepening. I have drawn these from a theory that combines social phenomenology and cultural anthropology. ,I. Chronological Growth Stages. This dynamic encompasses the many theo-ries that seek to explain how the structural human being (mind, emotions, sociality, and so forth) moves through the trajectory of life. Its purview.is the time line, and it locates the person as moving successively out of. oqe set of structures into a future set. Most of the growth schemas menti.oned above-- Erikson, Kohlberg, Levinson, and so forth--are good exp?sitors of, this Am I Growing Spiritually? dynamic of human growth. Knowing these chronological stages can give us some positive insight into how we have negotiated the human need to cope With emotional maturity, sociality, intellectual responsibility, and so forth. We need to know this, and it can serve as a fundamental indicator of our spiritual growth toward the mystery of God.19 2. Cultural Exposure. Just as significant for a basic human and spiritual deepening is the dynamic of cultural expression to which a person has been exposed. Here growth opportunities point to a richness or expansiveness of social, personal and religious experiences of life. This may be the. most ne-glected of all the basic areas of human and spiritual growth. Americans espe-cially hax~e been provincial---even to the point of denigrating the cultural riches of other peoples. Yet we have ,to realize that there are many ways of meeting the fundamental issues of life in family and society, of entering into interper-sonal relations, and so on. To limit oneself exclusively to the learned patterns of one:s own family or culture is, in effect, to deny the possibility of other ways of growing that God has offered to the human race. Cultural openness is also a means of grasping more profoundly just how God's life me~rges with our own. A personal example may illustrate what I mean here. 1 was raised in a small midwestern town, in a culture strongly shaped by traditional Germanic values. A cardinal belief of that culture was: You never get something,for nothing. That limited experience kept me from really understanding and inter-igrizing the New Testament notion .o.f charism--a gift of God freely bestowed. It wasn't until I had lived in another culture (Italy)~.f.or four years that the cultural expression of pure gift became an experienced part of my reality, enatiling me to interioriz_e this New Testament meanin.g. I doubt that this could have happened if 1 had clung rigidly to my inherited convictions. A broadbased cultural exposure can be a vital dynamic of both human and spiritual growth. Not only should we recognize this, but we should be ,willing to let ourselves be challenged by it. 3. The Depth of TranSformational Possibilities. This dynamic considers'to what extent the indivi~lual recognizes the opportunities that are available for changing one's life~ The previous element cab present numerous possibilities and values to test One's ability to go~ beyond and enrich one's inherited and socialized culture. This dimension of human deepening, though, looks far mor+ r~dically and openly to the future hnd to the goal of humanization than do the previous two areas. It incorporates the hope and realistic expectation that 6ur live~ can actually be reshaped and renewed into a creative new pattern that combines inherited values and newly-learned cultural expressions. The full reality of spiritual growth, then, must internalize the possibility that the true spiritual person will be the result of a creative religious act.2° 4. Integrative and Creative ~)ecision. This final dynamic specifies that unique moment when the three preceding dimensions are brought into mutual interac- 44 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 tion. Chronological growth, cultural possibilities, and projected changes are balanced and ready to be creatively merged by free decisions. This truly inte-grative dynamic of spiritual deepening is the traditional meaning of Wisdom. Christian theology has also called it "discernment in the Spirit of the Lord."!t is an axis of human and spiritual growth which reaches far beyond the simple importation of cultural growth theories into religious spirituality. These four elements of spiritual growth ought to provide at least a basic framework that would take us beyond a simple application of the chronologi-cal growth stages. Spiritual directors and reflective Christian adults should examine all four areas for material to answer the question: Am 1 growing spiritually? Christian Resources and a Theology of Spiritual Growth Having considered the problem of understanding growth in contemporary spirituality and the human social sciences, we must further inquire." Does the Christian religious experience offer any special contributions to this issue of spiritual growth? Does the Christian tradition add any unique perspectives in ascertaining the precise goals, means or methodological steps of authentic spiritual deepening? First, let us acknowledge that Scripture surely affirms some kind of reli-gious maturation. The Apostle Paul gently reprimands his congregation at Corinth: "I treated you as still infants in Christ. What I fed you with was milk, not solid food, for you we.re not yet. rea.dy for it" (I C° 3:1, 2). In another passage he contrasts the ways of Children with those of adults as a norm for spiritual deepening (! Co 13:9-12). Paul further notes the real possibility of regression or backsliding on the" spiritual journey: "! am astonished at the promptness with which you have turned away from the one who called you." (Ga 1:6). Along with other biblical writers (see Jn o16:12) the Apostle of the gentiles presents a definite conviction of the need for growth or deepen-ing on the spiritual journey. But we will look in vain for any systematic description of a life-pattern of holiness in the Scriptures. Alas, no biblical Erikson has appeared to lead us into this Promised Land. At best we can discern religious situations, spiritual responses to the situations, and recogni-tions that people have not progressed as far as they should have. Secondly, from a purely linguistic and cognitive viewpoint the Scriptures complicate the matter of trying to formulate a coherent theory of spiritual growth. This complication results from the cultural and religious pluralism that lies behind the,early Christian writings: this pluralism results in a variety of central symbols--all concretizing the same Christian wa~y.2~ The New Tes-tament encompasses a variety of goals in the spiritual process: the pascha~l pattern of Christ in us (Paul), the kingdom of God (Jesus), the holiness of God (I Peter), the life.and ministry of Jesus (synoptic gospels). Similarly diver~e are the means to attain these goals: aft active moral love (Paul), the new com-mandments (Matthew), loving knowledge (John) and personal conversion Am I Growing Spiritually? (Jesus). As if this were not enough, one fails to find the least evidence of any systematizing method which would trace the step-by-step procedures of spiri-tual growth through the means to the end. While many later Christian writers have attempted to formulate systematizing examples, they all impose a later schema on the earlier texts,z2 The absence in the New Testament of a step-by-step explanation of spiri-tual deepening should be understandable in a moment's reflection: these canonical writings are occasional pieces, not systematic expositions. Moreover, in the cultural milieu of their composition, subjective spiritual growth was not a high priority: it is our modern viewpoint that has elevated it to a primary concern. And yet the richness of spiritual experience in the Christian heritage does possess an immense wealth in its own right, one that need not be clipped or stretched to fit within our cultural categories of human growth. Methodo-logically, this suggests that a revisionist method of theology, such as the one outlined by David Tracy, should be introduced more forcefully into the realm of spirituality.23 The Christian heritage should challenge" contemporary culture, as well as vice-versa. I would like to suggest one issue which might be pursfiEd in this dialectical exchange. The question should be raised: Does the Christian religious vision even allow that spiritual growth have any single necessary ground-plan? Ought we not consider as a real possibility that the reason it is difficult to find a methodo-logical statement of spiritual growth in the Bible is because there isn't supposed to be one? These writings are open-ended! They provide no abs61ute goal of spiritual growth: they offer no absolute means of holiness: they organize no steps in an absolute methodological pattern. Taken as a collection of accumu-lated experience these writings simply give us a variety of examples of men and women who are "on the spiritual way." Like the parable of the Good Samari-tan which avoids a direct answer to the question: "Who is my neighbor?" the wholel import of the scriptural collection deliberately leaves a great deal of latitude for people to choose their own path. The implied message of the Good Samaritan story, "Be loving and you will recognize your neighbor," may be symbolic of the entire scriptural message. Paul's great theme of freedom in the Galatian letter forcefully accents that same open-endedness. "Before faith came, we were allowed no freedom by the Law . The Law was to be our gua~rdian until Christ came . lqow that that time has come we are no longer under that guardian" (Ga 3:23-25). That warning may be spoken against any absolute plan (including a growth plan) that would shackle human freedom. When Paul pleads with his hearers to be guided by the Spirit (5:26), he is admonishing people to remain open and a

Issue 28.4 of the Review for Religious, 1969. ; EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITORS Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Augustine G. Ellard, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gailen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to R~EVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63~o3. Questions for answering s.hould be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical approval by faculty members of the School of Db.'inity of Saitxt Louis University, the editorial ottices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Edu-cational Institute. Published bimonthly and copyright ~) 1969by REvIr:W. voR REt.mlOt:S at 428 East Preston Street; Bahimore, Mary-land 2t202. Printed in U,S.A. Second class postage paid at Baltimore, Maryland and at additional mailing offices, Single copies: $1,00. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $5.00 a year, $9.00 for two .years; othei countries: $5.50 a year, $10.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order paya-ble to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address. Renewals and new subscriptions, where ac¢om. panied by a remittance, should be sent to REVIEW VOR RELIGIOUS; P. O. Box 671; Baltimore, Maryland 21203. Changes of address, business correspondence, and orders not accompanied by a remittance should be sent:to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ; 421:1 East Preston Street; Baltimore, MarTland 2120'2. Manuscripts, editorial cor-respondence, and books for review should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOL'S; 612 Humbold t Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis "Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to the address of the Questions and Answers editor. JULY 1969 VOLUME 28 NUMBER 4 SISTER ELAINE MARIE PREVALLET, S.L. Reflections .on . Pr a and Religious Renewal It is fairly commonplace today that in all the talk of religious renewal the most neglected area is that of prayer. One might hazard the guess that this area is one of the most basic and most in need of rethinking and genuine renewal; one might also hazard the guess that people do not talk in depth about it because they do not know what to say. Like other areas of.renewal, there is question of what can be changed and what must remain. iEqually, there is growing realization that it will not be su~ient, to change the horarium and the outward form ur:less there is also renewal of the inner dynamic of /, prayer. To change structure may indeed be the likeliest ',,.¢-,way to achieve the change in process and attitude. If that is so, as the structure begins to change, new develop-ments in our understanding of prayer may arise from the life and experiences of renewal-minded religious com-munities during the next decade. What will be needed, however, is much sharing of and reflection upon the experience of religious, and sensitivity to new insights into the character of their prayer. We shall attempt here only to indicate some general areas of difficulty or de-velopment which characterize our present situation; Two observations may be in order at the outset. First, the difficulty with the concept of prayer is no doubt due to the pace and noise of modern society; but it is, I believe, more largely due to the crisis of faith which characterizes our age. When the basic notion of God is under so much scrutiny, and when one finds so much un-certainty as to the meaning and validity of believing in God at all, then obviously the concept of pra~e.r cannot remain untouched. For the nature and meaning of prayer will be determined by the character or concept of the one to whom one prays. Even though our under-standing of God must be constantly changing and growing, yet it must be in some fundamental way secure 4- Sister Elaine Ma-rie, S.L. is the chairman ol the de-partment of theol-og~ at Loretto Heights College; 3001 South Fed-eral; Denver, Colo-rado. 802S6:!2, ~ VOLUME :28, 1969. ÷ ÷ ÷ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 532 in faith. If we are not sure of God or it we do not know what our relationship to Him is, we cannot, be sure ot praye~---whether we should pray or how much we should pray. Hence, the difficulties in prhyer are closely tied to difficulties in faith.1 Secondl), it seems to me an unnecessary obfuscation of the issue to speak ot work as prayer. Prayer must, ot course, have an intimate connection with life and must therefore be related to work; but it aids neither our understanding nor our prayer to say that work is prayer. Prayer, as I shall refer to it, contains an essential com-ponent ot consciousness, reflection; it includes what has traditionally been named meditation. It may indeed occur that one prays--reflects upon meanings and values in the light ot the gospel message or one's understand-ing ot God--while one works. But to equate the two seems to me to be playing with words, the result being the loss ot the meaning ot prayer. Reflection takes time, effort, concentration. We are not a patient society, not used to being quiet; we are used to looking tot quick pragmatic results. Prayer demands patience and quiet; and it will often produce no immediate, demonstrable result. Hence, the tendency is to want to leave prayer aside, and one way ot doing this is simply to make facile verbal equation between work and prayer. The;~is~ sue is then quickly settled. When we are lett to our own in the matter that is, it we have provided no set time or place or fre-y.~] quency-~our experience will probably be that prayer will, sooner or later, simply drop out ot the picture. It will be pushed out by more immediate demands, more concrete "work to do." Yet it seems essential that the lives ot religious have a dimension ot depth and that religious themselves have what might be called a con-sciousness ot ultimacy. They must have a certain steady perspective, a clear focus. They must have this, not just for themselves, but [or others, as part of their service. Yet, in the immediacies that make up daily living, perspective and focus are easily lost; depth quickly turns shallow and empty. It seems necessary, then, to provide for oneself time and quiet to ponder meanings and values in the light ot the gospel message or in the light o[ one's understanding ot God. It is necessary to deepen one's understanding o[ faith, to reflect on the meaning ot God's loving presence. Finding God in prayer is a necessary concomitant to recognizing His presence in XA good treatment of this situation is given by Douglas Rhymes, Prayer in the Secular City (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1967), espe-cially pp. 12-25. all things. Obviously, this is saying nothir~g new. It is simply reasserting the value of balancing action with contemplation.2 Let us now consider some perspectives which may prove valuable to the development of prayer at the present time. Christianity and Personalism From all sides we become aware that we are living in an age of "the person," an age which has a new realiza-tion of the value, the uniqueness, the importance of the human person. In this context, Christianity shows itself as eminently propounding the value of the human per-son: the Christian revelation of God as Trinity is, after all, a revelation of God as personal, as communicating Persons. The Incarnation speaks of the personal love of God for man and His desire to be in communion with man; the Resurrection of Christ speaks of the continuing possibility for man to be in personal communion with God through the humanity of Christ. These three central dogmas of the Christian mystery indicate that man's re-lationship with God is a deeply personal one, allowing whatever is deepest and most unique in each man to find its expression and its fulfillment in his relationsh.ip with the Divine Persons. If we seek to understand prayer, therefore, we may well begin with simply this affirmation of man as person and God as Persons. We may move from that to a second affirmation, equally involving the dimensions of person, and speak of presence. For the possibility of being per-sonally present to another is one of the highest preroga: tives of man. Here again the Trinity speaks of personal presence as belonging to God Himself; the Incarnation speaks of the presence of God to man in Christ, and the Resurrection speaks of the continuing presence of the risen Christ to His followers. If we wish a basis for personal prayer, we need no other starting point than these fundamental Christian affirmations. We can under-stand personal prayer as involving the presence of the Three Persons who are God, and, most especially, the presence of the risen Christ. To be conscious of this presence requires faith, but also deliberate effort--time and concentration--to reflect upon the faith-datum and its significance. ~ We do not wish to assert priorities here; it is not a case of either/or, but of both/and. Equally, we do not wish to deny that when faith is deeply lived, there need be no disjunction, between work and prayer. But given our human situation, it seems safe to say, minimally, that thought is necessary for finding and maintain-ing meaning and perspective. -:;- ", -- 4- ÷ ÷ Prayer and Renewal VOLUME 28, 1969 Sister Elain~ Mari~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Individual Prayer We can move from here to ask what characterizes the relationship between the risen Christ and the believer, and therefore what the qualities of prayer will be.~ We can treat these briefly under the headings of love, need, and thanksgiving. If we examine any love relationship, we will find that it always involves a personal petition to be accepted and loved by the other. Hence love always involves prayer to the other--a petition, implicit or explicit, for under-standing, for acceptance--simply for communion. In the last analysis, what any such prayer seeks is com-munion of heart and mind, reconciliation of under-standing and wills. Expressed simp!y, we want to be one with the person to whom we are praying:' we want him to understand our prayer, and we want to understand him as he receives our prayer. It is here that meditation on the life of Christ in the Gospels finds its importance. For the risen Christ now is the same Christ who lived the inciden~ ts portrayed in the Gospels; He is now, as it were, the result of the experiences which He assimilated dur-ing His earthly life. The mysteries of His life on earth live on in Him, and they must be entered into by any-one wishing to know Him as He is now. To use an analogy: I am as I am now because of what has hap-pened to me in the past. Anyone who wants to under-stand me deeply ~nust understand certain of the signifi-cant experiences that have formed me, have given my life direction. And in the measure that another under-stands in a deep and compassionate way my past, in the measure that another has been able to enter into my past, to experience it with me, the other will under- Stand me. So in our attempt to come to union of heart and mind with Christ: insofar as we penetrate the experience de-picted in the gospel, we come to understand the living Christ who is now as He is because of those experiences. If we want to know the Christ whom we are petitioning, then we will need to know Him through the Gospels.* Further, in any love relationship, the one whom we love finally determines both the character and the con-tent of a prayer; in some sense then, the one addressed in prayer has a major role in creating the prayer. We * Much of the following is drawn from M. Nddoncelle's analysis in God's Encounter with Man (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1964). * For a more detailed and carefully nuanced presentation of the place of contemplation of the Gospels in Christian life, see David Stanley, "Contemplation of the Gospels, Ignatius Loyola, and the Contemporary Christian," Theological Studies, v. 29 (1968), pp. 417--45. will ask for what the one petitioned can give, and we will ask it in a way we know to be acceptable to him. Reflection upon this will perhaps give a direction for thinking about the questions so often posed these days: why should I pray? for what should I pray? If one re-flects that the one receiving the petition is God, loving and personal, then one might conclude that one could ask God for anything, for nothing is impossible to Him. However, if one considers more deeply the person of Christ, and, knowing Christ, knows also His deepest concerns, then one would be led to pray not for trivia but to seek in prayer a communion in His concerns. The Christ of the Gospels has as His deep concern the genuine well-being of men, their relationships, their dignity, their fulfillment. Our prayer, then, if it really considers the one petitioned and seeks communion with Him, will result in a sharing in His concern for men, communion in His outlook with respect to the needs of men, communion of understanding of the Christian task. Thus, if we have sought genuine com-munion with Christ, our prayer will impel us outward-- to meet the needs o£ the neighbor. This means also that we need not leave behind or abstract from our own daily living and working in prayer, but rather that we try to come to see how Christ's concern, His outlook, His understanding, can be translated by us into our con-crete situations. From the other side, the one petitioned would want to understand us as we approach him in prayer--why we pray, what its content means, and to respond in the way that will fulfill the deepest need of the one praying. Love does not refuse the petition of love, yet must be at liberty to answer as love knows best. Hence prayer can never be an effort at manipulation; it can never seek to use the other as the instrument of its own advance. Love approaches the autonomy of the other, approaches him freely and leaves the other free in response. Again, then, love is seeking nothing so much as communion; it is entering into the myster~ of the other, it is allowing two freedoms to meet, it is allowing its own develop-ment to be charted by the free response of the other. Prayer will accordingly always contain an element of surrender. But we can approach prayer also from the angle of existential human need. To seek communion with an-other is really to seek to fulfill a deep human need--the need to come to terms with human existence as incom-plete, to free oneself from self-sufficiency. To recognize one's own need, to approach another in need is, con-trary to our tendency to sufficiency, deeply human and + Prayer and Renewa! VOLUME 28, 1969 Sister Elaine Marie REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 536 deeply fulfilling. To pray to another is to offer oneself as apprentice, to be willing to learn, to admit that we do not know or cannot do, that we are not in complete mastery of the course of our destiny, that we do not always perceive the meaning of events. Being ready to admit our insufficiency and approaching Christ to try to see things as He sees them, to seek thus a reconciliation of our mind and heart with His is already fulfilling an existential demand: that we, humanly, are limited, are needy, that we find fulfillment only in communion. To pray, then, belongs to the truth of human nature; it is an impulse that genuinely expresses and fulfills a deep need of human existence. The attitudes of love and of need come together in the basically Christian prayer of thanksgiving. For we turn to Christ as the effective sign that we are loved by God, that His love has touched our humanity and opened it. In relationship with Him we recognize that our human need is not a burden but a joy, the joy of being creatures, the joy of being redeemed and accepted as sons of a loving Father. In Christ, then, we need not make a pre-terise of sufficiency but can freely and lovingly admit our need and turn to him for acceptance, for a perspective which is fuller than our own and can complete and cor-rect it. Because we are creatures in need, yet because He lives to be in loving communion with us, our prayer of need is already thanksgiving. For our deepest existential need is to be accepted and loved as we are and thus brought to transcend ourselves. Communion with God in Christ can do this in a way that no human communion can. It is Christ who most fully recognizes and accepts the human condition as creaturely, as unredeemed, and who exists only to meet us "where we are," and to bring us beyond ourselves to the Father. When we turn to Christ in prayer, it is then already thanksgiving that He is there, that He knows us and loves us as .we are, that we can be in communion with Him. Community Prayer What distinguishes community prayer from individual personal prayer is, obviously, the presence of the com-munity. But this factor can provide us with some ma-terial for reflection. We may start with the premise that each individual has been touched and loved by God; each is uniquely related to God in Christ. Further, each individual has his own gift for the building up of the Body of Christ. For a community to be a community in any profound Christian sense, there must be among the members a sensitivity to the part played by each, an ap-preciation of the unique gift which, each possesses, a willingness to help each other be what he or she is in- tended to be. There must be a sense of belonging to each other, of being for each other, of affecting each other by what each says and does and is. There must be, then, some sense of communion. It is perhaps precisely the phenomenon of the com-munity that has been neglected in our previous methods of community prayer. If we take seriously the presence of Christ in each other, then .we have to admit that each member of the community may be a "word" of Christ to us. Community prayer might well include some oppor-tunity to listen to the word of Christ from within the community. This would presuppose that the members approach community prayer with the mentality of being "present" to each other, as well as to God; it would mean that we make some effort to be conscious and aware of the others with us at prayer, instead of regard-ing them as a source of distraction. The community at prayer adds a new dimension--the presence of Christ in each other--to our way of approaching Him in prayer. One might, in this context, suggest that some of the prayer we address to Christ ought, in fact, to be a prayer to the community. A prayer of loneliness, of weariness, of discouragement, might more practically be met by Christ in the community than by Christ addressed ver-tically. This implies, of course, great openness among the members of the community, sensitivity and receptivity to human needs. The basis for such prayer can be seen in this passage from Origen: Take the case of a man who is of the number of those who have acquired more than sufficient of the needs of life and charitably hears the request of a poor man who petitions God for his wants. It is clear that this man too will accede to the petition of the poor man. For he obeys the will of the Fa-ther who brings together .at the time of prayer the one who prays and the other who can grant the prayer and cannot, because of God's kindly provision, ignore the needs of the former. We must not, therefore, think that when these things hap-pen they happen by chance. For He who has numbered all the hairs on the head of the saints brings together in harmony at the time of prayer both him who can do a service, giving ear to him who is in need of His benevolence, and the one who devoutly prays? God answers men's prayer by bringing the community together so that men may, in Christ, meet the needs presented there. One may, evidently, speak one's need-- or in other words, pray--to Christ through the commu-nity, and it is in this way that He answers one's prayer. To do this in the explicit context of Christian prayer ÷ ÷ ÷ Prayer and Renewal sOrigen, Prayer, xi, 4-5; translated in Origen: Prayer, Exhorta- VOLUME tion to Martyrdom, trans. John J. O'Meara (Westminster: Newman, 1954), pp. 45-6. 537 REVIEW FOR RELI@IOUS 5S8 seems to provide a genuine opportunity of deepening one's faith in the presence of Christ in the community, as well as drawing attention to our responsibility to meet the needs of others--an end toward which prayer to Christ must always lead us. Further, it is our human experience of what it means to be related as persons that is always our prime analo-gate for understanding our relationship with God in Christ. Community prayer may provide us with deep experiences of what it means to be persons in commu-nity, and therefore might greatly aid our understanding of what we mean when we speak of God as Persons, or of the Trinity, Community prayer will be improved, it seems, if we consider it not only as individuals gathering to recite together the same prayer, but as individuals gathering, sensiti~ce to and aware of each other, to say who they are together: that they have common desires, common needs, a common faith. They can profess at once their faith in God and in each other, their trust in God and in each other. They may gather to say to God and to each other that they are sinful, that they need forgiveness from God and from each other. They may listen and respond together to Scripture or to other readings that would bring them together in communion with Christ in heart and mind, and in communion of conviction and purpose with respect to their task in the world. We do not wish to deny the value of structured com-munal forms of prayer such as the Divine Office. These can provide a welcome balance for the more personal, subjective form suggested above. We wish only to sug-gest that on occasion some way of acknowledging and being aware of the presence of each other in prayer may be an important factor in preventing community prayer from becoming formalized, and may be a way of keeping ~t relevant to the life and needs of the community. It becomes, then, a means of growth in faith and in love both for God and for each other, and thus a means of really creating genuine Christian community. If individ-ual prayer seeks communion of heart and mind with Christ or the persons of the Trinity, then community prayer must have as an added aim a communion of heart and mind with the community. It seems obvious that this is somewhat difficult if nothing is done to make one aware of the presence and needs of the community members. Community prayer must aim at making a conscious community in Christ--by sharing in ioy and sorrow, need and suffering with each other, in the presence of Christ. A community becomes a community precisely by acknowledging needs and praying to and for each other. A community, then, comes together to pray, but it is also formed into a genuine and meaningful commu-nity through its sharing in prayer. From a different angle, reflection upon our experience of the community indicates that all members of a reli-gious community do not have the same gift of prayer. Given the premise that each individual has his own gift for the building up of the Body of Christ, it seems evi-dent that some individuals are, by temperament and by gift, more disposed to prayer-.and reflection than others. Perhaps this is an area where the fruits of one's gift for the Body must be seen in a communal context: that if' we have in our community someone with a gift for prayer, we all share in the benefits of his or her reflec-tion, his prayerfulness. This in no way dispenses the other members not so gifted from any effort in this direc-tion. Each person must be concerned about acquiring the dimension of depth in his faith life, must be con-cerned about communion of heart and mind with Christ. Yet if it is our experience that even in religious commu-nities all do not have the same gift, we may profit from trying to understand that experience. All must be sensitive to this gift in their midst, ap-preciate it, and encourage its development. Equally, all can benefit from those who do have a special gift of prayer. But this implies that the one so gifted must be openhearted enough to share his insights and reflections, for this is part of the responsibility connected with the gift of prayer as contributing to the building up of the Body of Christ. Doubtless we need to reflect more deeply upon the matter of responsibility to and for the gift of prayer. No prayer is purely individual. All prayer be-longs to and is at the service of Christian community. Sacramental Prayer Sacramental prayer may now be ,seen as incorporating and epitomizing all the elements present in other forms of prayer. Christ is present to each individual who par-ticipates in sacramental action; each is uniqt~ely re-lated to Him. The community is also present--present there to each other and to God. Christ is present in the community. But He is also present, acting through the symbols used in sacramental action. Here, once again, we need to be conscious not only of ou.r vertical relationship to Him, but also of the other members of the community, aware of them and present to them. We need, further, to be conscious of how Christ is present in sacramental signs: we need to have reflected deeply upon the natural meanings involved in each of the sacramental signs, but also upon their specific Christian meaning, shared and understood by the com-munity. For Christ will act toward us according to the meaning of these signs. Each sign says something to us ÷ Prayer and Renewal~ VOLUME~281 1969, ".~ + ÷ ÷ Sister Eioine Marie REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 540 as individuals loved and touched by God, but also to us as a community. Sacraments are occasions when we gather as a community to celebrate, in specific, signify-ing ways, God's loving us and His acting through Christ in our midst. Ideally, then, sacramental action should include some opportunity for explicit awareness of the community. How this may be done with greatest effectiveness may vary. A communal celebration of penance might include, individual "prayer" to the community, or the commu-nity's praying together to acknowledge its communal blindness, inertia, and negligence, its need for forgive-ness, for Christ's redeeming love. It might include some action or gesture to signify forgiveness of one another as mediating, along with the sacramental sign, the forgive-ness of Christ. The Eucharistic prayer is more easily recognized as communal, since our eating of the one bread and drink-ing of the one chalice say that we already share, in Christ, a communion of life with Him and with each other. The signs of food, and Christ's presence to us through these signs, as well as the presence of the com-munity there, both say that we are creatures who need the sustenance and nourishment of faith and hope and love; we need this nourishment from Christ, but also from one another. This is eminently the sacrament of thanksgiving, as we return to God, in and with Ghrist, all that we have and are. The Eucharist is in a very real sense the highest point of our prayer, both individual and communal; it is the culminating point of our presence to and communion with Christ and the Chris-tian community. It should be an occasion of real cele-bration of our community in Christ. More thought will need to be given to the matter of celebrating, and how our awareness of each other, of our community, can be given recognition in Eucharistic celebration. Conclusion This is obviously only a sketch of some lines along which we might watch for development in the prayer life of religious communities. There is urgent need that religious be convinced of the value of prayer and de-termined to realize its value and meaning in forms suit-able for our times and within the thought patterns of our age. We have undertaken the task of wholesale re-newal of religious life, including its most mysterious dimension, that of prayer. If we fail in this task, some-thing deep and nourishing for our lives and the life of the Church will simply die. Only if we succeed will we find strength, vitality, and meaning to enable us to make our contribution to the Body of Christ in the twentieth century. It is worth our best efforts. EDITED BY THOMAS F. O'MEARA, O.P. Community and Commitment COMMUNITY There* is a new burst of awareness and[desire for com-munity both within and without the Church. The need for community lies deep in the heart of ~tlan. Religious and apostolic life cannot find its source} realization, or sign value simply in the fact that a gr~oup of men or women dress alike and perform certain ritual actions together Human relations are too profound, too deep 1y explore~, too important for this-superfiCial bond. Why do religious live in community? In some way it must be to enable and to enrich a human, Christian, apostolic, and celibate life. Each of these aspects calls for commu-nity and must find it or be frustrated. For-the present generation, isolated and made anxious by advancing technology, community is essential. A! new view of religious life must emphasize its importan.ce and its roots in the New Testament. Community exists to help the person develop as a person, to help the Christian develop !as a Christian. Community must be an adult familial ~ommunity, for this is basic to man. If a man does not create one through marriage, he must find another form, for man cannot live totally alone ~nd live healthily. R~.ligious commu-nity life, like the Christian individual, i~ a place where nature and grace meet. The charisms of the Spirit, the times, the heritage of the order, the psychological needs of persons are an array of aspects highl:ighting the im-portance of community. Community supports the indi-vidual in his apostolate; it gives hir~ direction and encouragement. But community is not jffst the backdrop * This article is excerpted from a paper feceS,' tly prepared by a group of midwestern Dominicans. The title ofI the ful.1 paper is "Towards a Theology of the Dominican Life in the United States Today." The article presented here has been edited b~ Thdmas F. O'Meara, O.P. I + 4- 4, Father Thomas O'Meara, O.P., is a member of Aquinas Institute School of Theology; St. Rose l~riory; Dubuqqe, Iowa 52001¢ " - . ; VOLUME 28;.1959: ¢'.,' 541 T. F. O'Meara, O.P. REVIEW I~OR RE~L[GIOUS ~2 for activity; it is essential to effective Christian life and apostolate. Apostolate and community are correlatives. Neither can be defined without the other. We are in-volved in a communal apostolate and an apostolic com-munity. We do not yet know how the rather recent re-discovery of the importance of community will effect a more profound level of community life; but we do know that for the United States and the American life style this rediscovery is extremely important, perhaps more important (and more advanced) when compared to the life style of Europeans. The previous form of routine, joint prayer (which is not the same as communal prayer), tolerant charity, frustrating or limiting obedience was insufficient. It often led to seeking a "family" outside of the priory rather than bringing friends into our family. The jurid-ical description of community is insufficient, since community is primarily a human and Christian, a psy-chological and socio-theological reality. Law can neither form nor direct true community; it can only give a very few boundaries beyond which community could not exist. From these legal lines to real community is a long road, but it is a road which the Christians could begin to traverse if they would emphasize grace, not law. If the Church is a microcosm of the world, the reli-gious community is a microcosm of the society in which it lives. The religious community should be a kind or type of Christian community, a model for it. By its very existence in communal sharing and dedication to preaching the gospel, the religious community shows it is not the world. But the religious community is in the world. It shares in human communities--in their life and in their structures. By baptism and vows we look to a special fulfillment beyond the merely social community of family and city. This is possible, however, only by listening closely to the insights of the gospel, to the Church, and to the contributions of the secular sciences. Psychology can be seen as a kind of praeparatio evan-gelica for healthy community life, for charity, maturity, honesty, joy, and dedication. We must learn what is the correct size for a community of men or of women, as determined by social and psychological studies; how a community can best be directed; what is the importance of work; whether one community needs a single apostolic goal or whether these can be pluralistic. Neither theology nor canon law have all the information on this; social psychology and management planning must help. We will see below that the community is the source of authority. The superior exemplifies the spirit of the community. He inspires and coordinates the ac-tivities of the community flowing from their life and work. He is not, primarily, a secretary, a bookkeeper, or a control center for daily life. The community should be open because Christian Iove is open; the community is mature and the superior a guide rather than a controller because this reflects the Christian (not the Jewish) idea of God. No closed community is happy. Jesus Christ was not closed in upon himself. Christian community-apostles must not be just intellectually open, but emotionally and psychologically open to change, to newness, to risk. To be such, the religious community must be physically open to the com-munities it borders. Religious communities cannot be fortresses, for these are anachronistic. Rather they must be dynamic centers of the Christian prophetic word en-gaging in conversation and cooperation with the world. Privacy and silence have a purpose, but they are not absolutes; they are ordained to dialogue and mission, and so cannot object to a reasonable openness of a com-munity to those for whom we exist. Just as vatican II showed that the world was vastly complex and different, and emphasized the local church as the New Testament does, so too a new view of reli-gious life will emphasize the local community. This is where religious life will be lived or will die out. The novitiate and a few houses of so-called strict observance cannot be the norm, especially in the United States where such a "norm" would be viewed as hypocritical. The local community will either attract novices to its kind of life or none will come, since young Americans are now attracted to concrete persons and what they are doing, not to ancient saints or romantic descriptions. The local community is all-important, and the province is seen as the coordinating center of creative and respon-sible local communities. VOWS IN C01V[MUNITY The Vows as Commitment to Christian Community and Ecclesial Apostolate The vows are directed towards community member-ship and activity. Since they are acts of persons, they have personal implications such as lasting celibacy, per-sonal mortification and denial, communal sharing, and so forth. But the community dimension can no longer be eclipsed by the personal; it is the community way of life which asks for celibacy; it is a particular level of apostolic efficiency and potential which requests poverty; and obedience is basically not the submission to one man's direction in the details of li[e, but the entrance into a community with its own necessary leadership. Vows are a lasting commitment to service through corn- Community and Commitra~nt VOLUME 28, 1969 munity for the kingdom of God. Obedience is commit-ment to community; poverty exists for service, peace, and equality; chastity is essential to this kind of dedication. Because of the importance of the New Testament record and an individual's commitment, we must have a Biblical theology of commitment-in-vows. We 'must have not only a Biblical theology of the vows, but a sociology and psychology of them as well. The vows are not re-straints but liberating influences. Are the vows the same as every and any commitment to a religious community? Do they have positive sign value today, as the Council de-mands they should? Does their nomenclature get in the way? Perhaps it is possible to see different levels of active commitment following evangelical counsels: these levels would be introductory (novitiate), temporary and termi-nal (auxiliaries), permanent but open to dispensation, and final. We must be wary of stating a theology of vows in terms of any dualism or any triumphalism. We cannot take for granted our identification of virginity with virtue, poverty with righteousness, or the religious life with a higher state. The vows, like the religious life, cannot be absolutes since they are means. How can Americans rediscover, emphasize, and expli-cate the goals towards which the vows tend. If these goals die out or escape achievement, the vows no longer have any real purpose. The keeping of a vow without any purpose or success is not in keeping with Jesus' reli-gious thought. Vows are means to love, to zeal, to open-ness, to adaptation, to maturity, to Christian apostolic success, to service. Vows do not permit us to have no concern for the future of ourselves or our society, to have no interest in others, to withdraw, to escape decisions and responsibilites, persecution and defamation, to es-cape the necessity of worrying about life and livelihood, to ignore the effectiveness of our community and the Roman Catholic Church. The purpose of the vows is to communicate Christ through a personal and communal life in God. 4. 4. 4. T. F. O'Meara, O.P. REV|EW~ FOR RELIGIOUS 544 Chastity A theology of religious chastity avoids every dualism. It never loses sight of the goodness of human emotions and sexuality, the permanent role sexuality plays in a balanced personality. Chastity is not a means of not-getting- involved in the world, of "avoiding near occa-sions of sin." Chastity is not a way of playing safe, nor are sins against chastity the most horrendous of the religious life, adding "malice" to sexual disorder. A re-ligious~ chastity can be a .selfishness of great proportions. Chastity must search seriously for its justification, and each must ask whether he justifies his living of a life which is not creative of human family; he asks this question not just once at perpetual vows but throughout his life. It is not at all clear that Americans today are more involved in sexual immorality than in the past, although they are certainly barraged with the glorification of sexuality. Still, the seriousness of not sharing one's life with another human being, the potential ambiguity of sexual abstinence, and the gift of creating a family should not be set aside easily. Does celibate chastity as a commitment to a community of Christian service have the theology and sign value for today it deserves? How do religious love in a human way? How is sexuality present in a love for the community and the world? Psychology must help to determine the dynamics and limitations of chastity in each individual, and the particular conditions which this or that province or house must take into ac-count. Chastity allows for a certain level of Christian dedica-tion to the apostolate and sanctity. It is academic to ask whether this is better or best, since only the individ-ual with his God-given vocation has a "place" in the sight of God. Chastity allows (it does not insure or cause) dedication: (a) to many persons rather than a few; (b) to areas of work which are dangerous or demanding in an exceptional way; (c) to an intensity of work in quality and quantity. Chastity is connected with the revolution-ary, missionary, and suffering nature of the Christian apostolate insofar as the celibate preacher of the gospel can go where a family cannot. Ghastity and poverty allow a certain economic and social independence, a freedom from political or economic systems which may be perversely harming human life and development. Poverty Poverty is not simply the absence of normal or special consumer goods. Amid growing American affluence, poverty is an evil, and the American mentality is intent upon its elimination. Christian "poverty" can have value in America as a sign of Christian eschatology and as an identification with the downtrodden and persecuted. In the present social and political upheavals within the United States, it has become clear that some religious who "practiced" poverty (sometimes in ludicrous detail) at the same time possessed a mentality which was un-sympathetic to the poor. Poverty must be seen, then, as a sign of the worldly and transcendent kingdom of God, of the "already" and "not yet" of the Christian mission. There are three aspects of poverty within the religious life, aspects which must be constantly tested as to whether they have a contemporary voice and to whether ÷ ÷ ~ommunity and Commitment VOLUME 2~ 1969 T. F. O~Meara, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELlflIOUS they are kept in the right balance. (1) Poverty of the individual and community must be proportionate to the particular apostolate and community. Poverty must smooth the road to effective apostolate and Christian Service. We must not let privileges, traditions, "contacts" little by little lead us away from service to the poor and persecuted. (2) Poverty has sign value: it frees us for work for the kingdom of God which is coming; it pro-claims our faith in divine providence and in the power of Christ to become the center of the evolving world. Our faith in Christ above and within the world is active now and in the future. (3) Poverty frees us for work among persons and proclaims the primacy of the personal, Christian, spiritual over the material. Wealth is power; but poverty affarms faith in another power, a power which is ultimately greater because it influences not mountains or machinery but persons and ideas. Vatican II emphasized the importance of real sign value to poverty, the importance of personal poverty and of corporate poverty. The latter demands real financial sharing on a national and international level as integral to the living of the vow of poverty. The Constitution on the .Church in the Modern World asks that we take up dialogue with the world as it is. With regard to the eco-nomic dimensions, we see that technological society has given us means of great value and importance. Wealth is good, and the assumption---dominant from the origins of man--that poverty and sickness were inevitable and frequent is now questioned by American youth, scien-tists, and polity. The correct direction of this nation's wealth and power would be a greater byproduct of our dedication to poverty than our supercilious contempt of all who possess or study wealth. In short, are we "using" our poverty for people? Poverty not only allows us to be especially dedicated to apostolates, but demands that we employ well time and energy in our areas of work. Poverty can mean em-ploying secretaries, jet travel, electronic media, and so forth in order to reach in a year (or a day) thousands more than Paul or Dominic contacted in a lifetime. On the personal level, poverty can easily be rendered mori-bund by establishing a life where all needs are filled im-mediately within a fully ordered house. Poverty means lack of security but trust in God. Poverty should prepare religious for living in the present era where the models and, concepts of the religious life are being hotly debated and seriously questioned. Poverty and faith are corre-lates; poverty and routine or unchallenged life are con-tradictions. Poverty rejects any defense of the past which turns priories, publications, apostolates, liturgies, and so forth into the displays of a museum. This is espe- cially true in the United States where we have practically no past and where our mentality is future oriented. Very practically, poverty is a commitment to commu-nity life. The American religious wants to know where and who this community is. He takes for granted his right to have some information on how the large amounts sacrificed or earned are being spent. The United States' Church has experienced many cases of poor planning, excessive construction of buildings, un-needed schools and apostolate.s, waste or diffusion of sums of money. The Christian who commits himself to poverty in a community has an obligation to see that that community itself is not sinning against poverty, and clearly superiors must answer not only to God but to the members of the community who freely offer their earnings. The spirituality and life of r~ligious in the area of poverty are not helped but rather frustrated by re-mote, corporate decisions on the expense of money. Can we not expect that a religious who sees money wasted will hesitate to remain within the community or to con-tinue his work and sacrifice? Obedience Thomas Aquinas emphasized the theological impor-tance of God's creation and agents. God acts directly in His world rarely. Similarly, obedience is not just a per-sonal relationship to God, and a superior never fully takes the place of God or Jesus Christ. Obedience is a commitment to God's kingdom revealed to us in Christ as present in a special ecclesial community. Obedience like authority involves community. Americans are raised in the Anglo-Saxon tradition of law. This tradition is often almost in contradiction to certain RoMan and European philosophies of law. The British and American legal mentality looks to a mini-mum of laws and a maximum of obedience; this is allied to equity but does not tend toward dispensation. Clearly the spirit of religious constitutions of the past and the Code of Canon Law stem from another philoso-phy. That is why the Constitution of the United States with 190 years of amendments fills only a few pages, while the laws of the community of "Christian freedom" are numerous. This national difference will influence American reaction to laws, authority, and obedience in the religious life. The purpose of authority is not to rule over the de-tails of the life of children, but to enable their matura-tion and sanctity. Adulthood, participation, and deci-sion- making can and should belong to all the members of a community in a society where political maturity is taken for granted. From the point of view of charisms, Community and Commitment VOLUME 28~ 19~9 54~ T. F. O'.~e~,~'a~ O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 548 the Spirit cannot be relegated to the mind of the supe-rior, nor will educated Christians accept the point of view that the will of the superior is always God's positive (as contrasted with His permissive) will. Education and adulthood render implausible the Neoplatonic idea that the superior informs the inferiors, because he always knows--intellectually or theologically--more than they do. Rather, the superior brings to focus the will of the community when it is holy and reasonable, or solves dilemmas presented by opposing parties. Traditions of democracy, initiative, consensus, and Aquinas' emphasis on nature with grace and secondary causes under God have been obscured by later spiritual theologies. There is a crisis in communities over whether differ-ent points of view exist, or whether bureaucratic con-trol can yield to political maturity. Today's crisis of obedience cannot be solved by more laws, stricter cen-sures, and tighter controls. This will only lead to the sin of forcing schism and apostasy. Mature Christians can-not renounce their own consciences over what seems er-roneous or insignificant. The crisis of obedience shows that a new kind of person is emerging in the Western world. He is quite different from either the Medieval peasant or the European bourgeois. His education, social responsibility, and creative initiative can either be used within the community, or he can be rejected. But he will not choose to live as a non-person, stripped of his own existence and potentiality--for neither common sense nor Christian virtue would suggest that he do so. There is a crisis in the Church today centering in the realization of authority. This is not simply "a crisis of authority." What is at issue is not that authority, even that infallible authority exists, but how it exists. This crisis is of great extent and needs a solutio~frather than a repression. The crisis is stimulated by the ever in-creasing role played by the mass media in Church affairs, by Vatican II's theology of collegiality, and by the transi-tion of the Church from a feudal or immigrant power to a vital stimulus within a pluralistic society. The crisis is particularly acute in the United States due to our lack of roots in the past history of the Church, to the American political mentality, and to the tension arising from past attempts to merge these two. The future should not be allowed to witness a growing division be-tween our standard style of administration on the one hand, and the majority of religious, especially the young, on the other. The New Testament recognizes even within its nor-mative pages a certain pluralism in Church forms. An example of this is found in St. Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians, Chapters Twelve through Fourteen. Different gifts are given to different members of the Church by the same Spirit. Every member of the Church does not have the same function, just as each part of the body does not have the same function. Though these members have different rules, a unity still exists from the members' re-lationship to Christ. There is a diversity in the Church, but it is a diversity which is unified in Christ. All of these gifts are given for the upbuilding of the Church. In this view of the Church given by St. Paul, there is definitely an emphasis on a plurality in Church forms, but a pluralism which is unified in Christ. Yet, the division, isolation, and frustration felt by many religious do exist. Where does it come from? Cen-tral authority often seems to be irrelevant. Why? Perhaps because it offers negative laws post factum rather than leadership before and during the moments of decision. This kind of authority is frustrating to those who have not been consulted and whose circumstances militate against the decision taken; it is irrelevant to many who may with risk choose to prefer real community and effec-tive apostolate to belonging to a long established group. The following three ideas are guidelines by which to measure practical decisions on renewing the concrete realization of government. (1) Charity. Charity is primary. Past constitutions have given the impression that holiness and charity come infallibly from obedience. Experience teaches that this is not true. Love for the community and the in-dividuals in it must have a certain primacy over systems, machinery, and political goals. Love is prior to obedience and is the original cause of obedience. The present crisis will not be solved without a greater emphasis on love for the individual person. (2) Freedom. It is the purpose of neither the vow of obedience nor of government to plan each individual's life and day. There should be an atmosphere freely to be lived in, not a minute horarium to be conformed to. Vatican II's Church in the Modern World begins with man, his dignity, and freedom; religious should not be afraid to follow that example. The purpose of au-thority should be to offer maxrmum help with minimum legislation. (3) Comumunity. Freedom, education, and personal maturity are some of the catalysts for today's crisis in religious community. Until we are accustomed to col-legial decisions at all levels, we will have anguish and potential death in American religious institutes. Three things are involved in the government of a community vis-a-vis the new problems: (1) the struggle for real com-munity life; (2) the necessity to be, without sacrificing heritage or unity, pluralistic; and (3) the desire for the ÷ ÷ ÷ Community and Commitment VOLUME 2BI 1969 549 T. F. O'Meera, REVIEW FOR RELIGZOUS 550 apostolate to correspond to personal needs and exigen-cies of society, and to help form community. It is clear that we do not have all the answers as to how to form this new community life on either the per-sonal or the structural basis. Clearly some things must go and others stay. But we must strive towards what is mentioned immediately above, for they are fundamen-tal to what religious life claims to be. The struggle to-wards this is itself good. Complaints about impending doom and disaster fail in Christian hope. The struggle is evangelical, since the vocation and following that Jesus preached include uncertainty. In the past we created a world where we conquered the future by avoid-ing it, by being static. We must not be afraid of uncer-tainty or risk and even danger in evaluating and living life. Political philospophy tells us that there are two ques-tions in the renewal of political structure: (1) What is your model of person? What kind of people are you deal-ing with? (2) In the light of what is best suited for these persons, who decides and governs? In considering our political structures, have we overlooked the first question? In regard to the second, decision and consul-tation should penetrate into the community as far as they can. This is a principle not only of politics but of a Christian theology of virtue. Today, we do not really have conflict within the de-velopment of representation and pluralism in govern-ment; we have a conflict as to whether pluralism and collegiality should be allowed to exist at all. This con-flict is disastrous, for new forms of realizing authority in religious community can be combated in America only at the price of a Pyrrhic victory, the decline of religious life. How are mature American religious to come to realize that representation and political discussion about the leadership and direction of the order is not evil. The Acts of the Apostles record discussion among the Apostles. For an American, not to question, noi to engage in the realm of political life is to be immature. We must not allow the leaders of men and women religious (who are not on the same theological plane as bishops) to become persons who mix the sacred with the secular like kings of divine right. Some attempt must be made to open more lines of communication, to broaden the base of author-ity, to give the greatest possible representation, to recognize the responsibility of local communities for their lives, to allow for pluralism and even dissent--all within the context of religious obedience to those in of-rice. How this is to be done without weakening authority is a challenging but far from insuperable question. To ~nany [rom other cultures, the entire view may seem bizarre or even dangerous. However, it is a legitimate possibility within ecclesial religious life, and it is the normal and traditional political mentality of Americans. Actually, obedience will grow where love has primacy; zeal will become more intense where consultation (with or without final agreement) has made it feel worthwhile. While commitment to Christian community-apostolate is destroyed by depersonalization and autocracy, it is increased through openness and honesty. Community and Commitment VOLUME 28, 1969 55! ANTHONY D. HECKER, S.J. Attitudes, Unity, and Renewal ÷ ÷ ÷ Anthony Hecker, s.J., writes fa'om Coleran House; 19 Linnaean Street in Cambridge, Massa-chusetts 02138. ' REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS In this age of renewal, both in the Church and in re-ligious orders, I would like to present for your considera-tion my reflections on those factors which could inhibit renewal. I refer to the need of greater communication between the so-called "New Breed" and the consequently so-called "Old Breed." I personally would prefer to ignore all such labels not only because of the divisions which they hint at but also because of the divisive-ness which they foster. I would like to do an in-depth study of the problems which I have observed both in my own order and in other orders with which I have come into some contact. However, because of various and sundry limitations, I must acknowledge that the following is neither a total study nor an in-depth study; rather it is simply my past and present reflections con-cerning these problems, about which 1 have a genuine concern. I present these reflections to you because I think that any attempt toward renewal will become operation-ally successful only insofar as there is unity among the members of the renewing order. At present I think that there is at least some lack of unity and that the source of that lack of unity is in our attitudes toward one another. It could easily be the case that my portrayal of these attitudinal difficulties is at least excessive, at most er-roneous. Nevertheless, by presenting these reflections to you, I hope at least to foster some reflection concerning unity and ways in which it might be improved. First, I would explain that, although I am relatively "young" and am a scholastic, I do not intend to castigate merely the "old" religious. (Indeed, I would hope that nothing that I say is construed, or misconstrued, as castigation of any person or group of persons.) The problems of communication cannot be facilely attributed to any one person or group of persons; we are all re-sponsible to a greater or lesser extent. Second, I would note that the basic problem of communication has its foundation in attitudes--attitudes toward the non-peer groups, especially those attitudes which are founded on implicit, and, hopefully, not recognized, presuppositions concerning the non-peer groups. I also want to state the several presuppositions which will be implicit throughout the rest of this discussion. First, we should not confuse unity with uniformity. For example, the excessive concern with mode of dress (ex-cessive because the concern exceeds that warranted by the subject matter) is more a question of uniformity than unity. External symbols do not foster unity; they can at best point to a unity which may or may not exist. A corollary principle, which I hesitate to state because of the apparent note of castigation contained therein, is that common life does not mean reducing everything to the lowest common denominator. I would willingly and forcefully declare that common life is necessary for unity. When, however, common life is proclaimed as a principle of uniformity, as well as of unity, then not only are the unifying aspects pushed below the horizon but also any further use of common life as a principle of action and decision is viewed by the subject with suspicion and dis-trust, rightly or wrongly. A second presupposition of this discussion is that dif-ferent attitudes or manners of acting should not be so facilely assigned a value parameter. That is, when some-one's attitudes or actions are even radically different from our own, we should not assume that they are wrong; much less should we arbitrarily impute base motives to them. For example, is it not more probable that certain priests and religious prefer not to perform "folk" or "liberal" liturgies because they think that they cannot find God so easily or so fully in such liturgies because of the "distrac-tions" inherent in such liturgies, than it is that their preferences are because they are "old fogies" or "die-hard conservatives"? Conversely, is it not more probable that certain priests and religious prefer to perform "folk" or "liberal" liturgies because they think that they can find God more easily and more fully in such liturgies because those "distractions" actually aid them in lifting themselves up to God, than it is that their preferences are because they are "always seeking new and exciting things"? A preference for uniformity would demand that one or the other view prevail. A preference for unity would allow the recognition that unity is not opposed to diversity. An all-pervasive value orientation would de-mand that one or the other view be declared good or better, and that the other be declared bad or worse. A view that would recognize the worth of a value orienta-tion but would also realize that it is not universally ÷ ÷ ÷ ~/OLLIME 2$, 19~9 A. D. Hecke~;$.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 554~ applicable would allow the recognition that several different, views can prevail simultaneously. There are many ways of approaching God, even within one (Jesuit) general framework. The primary concern of this discussion, then, is to con-sider attitudes of religious toward other religious. I would begin by stating, even categorically, that dogmatism among "liberals" is at least an implicit denial of the very essence of liberalism. A liberal, if he is a true liberal, must accept the conservative on his own--the conserva-tive's- terms; a liberalism that excludes anyone because they have a different viewpoint is, at best, a caricature of liberalism. How then, can liberals castigate conservatives because they are not liberals? Should the true liberal have, and manifest, a desire to proselytize everyone everywhere, to malte everyone liberals whether they want to be or not? To all these questions I must answer, No. Lest my answer be interpreted as a non-liberal attitude toward those "liberals," I would state that my answer is based upon my own reflections concerning what a liberal is. Accordingly, I would ask those "liberals" to help me to understand their view of liberalism and how that view is compatible with their attitudes. On the other hand, I would state, even categorically, that dogmatism among "conservatives" or "traditional-ists" is at least an implicit denial of the very essence of tradition. Dogmatism here leads to fossilization of tradi-tion. Can the true conservative deny that there is any development in our understanding of God and of our relation to Him, indeed that development is inspired by the Spirit? Can the true conservative deny that there are a variety of ways of approaching God, that God can be "all things to all men"? (Would they really limit God in this way?) If they do not allow for the continuous workings o[ the Spirit, are they not left with merely the dead letter of the past? Indeed, is not this continuous and varied working of the Spirit a presupposition of Ignatius in the Spiritual Exercises (Annotations 4, 15, 18), and is it not probable that Ignatius intended these as principles of Christian living as well as principles to be used in the Spiritual Exercises? Can the true conserv-ative demand uniformity of thought--that we all think alike--rather than unity of thought--that we agree on certain common goals and then proceed in our various ways to foster attainment of those goals? Would it be possible for the conservative, and the liberal as well, to accept the distinction between "accepting a view" and "agreeing with a view" (accepting a view as valid despite the fact that it is not a view he can personally agree with)? A second attitude that I would consider is the emo- tional generalizati.on of a response to a particular aspect of another person. This attitude appears to predominate among the younger religious, perhaps only because of my greater contact with them; it might be just as prevalent among older religious. What I mean by this attitudinal problem is that, at least occasionally, a person will ob-serve a limitation in another person (real or imagined) and then proceed to generalize--the person can do noth-ing right. The particular observation becomes generalized into an attack on the person of the person. For example, a student may discover that a particular facultymember has a character fault let us say pride. Rather rapidly the student will become convinced that that person is a poor teacher and/or advisor. I will grant that I have ob-served few religious with this problem, but unfortunately some of these few are quite vociferous. Even were their judgments true, I think it an extreme lapse of charity to commit such character assassination. Unfortunately, also, too many younger religious are not critical enough in evaluating these unsolicited reports. They might hear from a vociferous few that a teacher cannot teach and readily accept it as fact, without even experiencing the teacherl Finally on this problem, too many religious, young and old alike, engage all too frequently in destructive criti-cism. It seems, at times, to be almost a preoccupation, occasionally even descending to a type of "Can you top this?" session. Needless to say, all these manifestations of the same general attitude are destructive of unity, all the more pernicious because it results in a gradual and insidious erosion of unity, unnoticed and unreflected upon. Can we not accept the limitations of each other without bandying them all about? If we must talk about the limitations of another, let us in all charity and honesty talk about them with the person most concerned--the person with the limitation. Let us build one another up in charity rather than tearing one another down, and thus destroying the very fabric of our various orders. The third and final attitudinal area I would concern myself with is that of suspicion and distrust--not al-together unrelated to destructive criticism. What I mean by this is the tendency of too many of us to presume the worst of each other and, accordingly, to impute poor motives. This attitude is, I think, founded on at least two; more fundamental problems: lack of understanding and lack of faith in the good will of others--two problems which closely interact upon each other. Lack of understanding appears to know no boundaries. It is prevalent between younger and older religious, between subjects--regardless of age--and superiors. That ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ A. D. Hecker, $.1. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS between subjects and superiors seems to be more heavily influenced by a lack of faith; it will be treated in its proper place. Conversely, the lack of understanding between younger and older religious seems to be prior to, and causative of, the lack of faith. This lack of under-standing is, I think, intimately linked with the problem of unity. Unity is not that sort of thing which can be readily and simply assumed as existing between a group of men or women with common goals; nor can it be fostered and maintained by a total reliance upon sym-bolic acts and customs. Unity is something that has to be worked at in a real way by all the members of a group. Unity demands that all in the group understand one another; and to understand one another requires both work and patience. The urgent, and apparently natural, impulse to be understood seems to force us to give a primacy to this aspect of our interpersonal rela-tions. I wonder if this is not a false assigning of priorities. Could it not be that in order to be understood we must first understand others? Could it not be that in order to express ourselves in a manner that others can under-stand, in order to express ourselves in the thought pat-terns of the others, we must first understand the others? Of course it should also be realized that to simply understand the thoughts or expressions of others does not suffice. This is merely a token or surface understand-ing. To properly understand other persons, at least an attempt must be made to understand the social, emo-tional, psychological, and philosophical tensions and views that influenced those persons during their forma-tive years. For example, do younger religious under-stand, and realize the consequences of, the circumstances in which their elders grew up? (There is the fact that absolutism was not only prevalent in theology but that it also permeated all aspects of life and thought-- Einstein and such thinkers were not public knowledge, and thus not influential on public patterns of thought, until the forties; the social sciences were not influential until the mid-fifties; apologetics was a major concern throughout the entire course of. studies. Now when apologetics is given such an all-pervasive primacy, should it be surprising that the critical faculty 'is highly devel-oped, and that there should be a great concern to preserve and protect all aspects of the Catholic faith--incidentals as well as essentials?) On the other hand, do the older religious understand, and realize the consequences of, the circumstances in which the younger religious grew up? (There is the fact that Einstein's theory was public knowledge, and thus permeated all aspects of life and thought; the social sciences Were in full flowei', and thus the greater concern about freedom and interpersonal relations; Teilhard de Chardin was influential in shaping a new worldview-- readily taught to and accepted, perhaps uncritically, by the younger men.) I do not not mean to imply by all this that the new is better than the old, nor that the old is better than the new. Rather I am attempting to point out the fact that there are in any of the orders today two--at least two--- quite different ways of viewing the world, views that underlie and permeate all aspects of life of the various persons. I reiterate, neither is better, they are just simply different. Accordingly, to understand any thought, view, or opinion of another person, that thought, view, or opinion must be understood in the context of that per-son's way of viewing the world. Of course, there will be the few, with either worldview, who are incapable of understanding the other worldview of the other person; but this does in no way imply that Christian charity is no longer needed. Because we do not understand the other person's point of view, we should not assume that he is wrong, or foolish, or operating with ill will; neither should we ridicule or antagonize him. We should ap-proach those few, then, with the realization that a greater demand may be made upon our charity--they may ridicule or antagonize us but we need not respond in kind--and with a determination that we shall improve our relations with them. These last remarks lead us to a consideration of the lack of faith in the good will of the other person. There seems to be this lack of trust between old and young; but, more importantly, there seems to be some mutual lack of trust between superiors and subjects. Certainly the latter, but I think also the former, implies a limitation in our practical spirituality. What I mean by this is that, while supernatural faith is directed primarily to God, in that very fact it should also be directed toward men. Faith in God includes faith in God's loving kindness and grace-full influence upon men, especially upon men who have committed themselves totally to God. Accordingly, to say that one has faith in God and yet to manifest a radical lack of faith in men totally committed to God involves one, to some extent, in a contradiction. To point out what I have referred to as a limitation in our practical spirituality I would use, by way of ex-ample, our attitude toward what the Jesuits refer to as the "plus-sign." We seem today to disdain the term "plus-sign" and all that it connotes. On those rare occurrences when we do use it we manifest what we think that it means. Too often we apparently mean that we have al-ready judged the other person, thus fostering a negative image of him in ourselves, but that we will give him the ÷ ÷ ÷ Renewal VOLUME 2~ 1969 557 benefit of the doubt and not report him. I submit that the "plus-sign" does not connote this negative attitude but rather one that is quite positive. It is not an act which follows upon judgment but is an act which pre-cedes judgment. It is a humble admission of the fact that too little is known of the other person, especially of his degree of deliberation, to judge him on the basis of a solitary act. It is the suspension of judgment as opposed to rash judgment. I would suggest that this might be what Ignatius was referring to in the Praesupponendum to the Spiritual Exercises. I would also reiterate that it is doubt-ful that Ignatius wrote this to be used solely in the con-text of the Exercises; rather it was intended also as a principle of Christian living. In the light of all this, when we disagree with someone in principle, or concerning policy, should we seek out negative reasons for his position, especially if we do not understand his point of view or frame of reference? When we disagree with superiors in principle, or con-cerning policy, and realize that we cannot effect a change, would it not be more healthy and mature to seek out their reasons for maintaining the present system even while we continue to represent our views? Of course another requirement of our interpersonal relations is patience. Even if superiors were to agree that some changes might be beneficial, time would often be re-quired before they could be effected. Conversely, if changes are effected, how can we be so sure that they are failures after only three or four months of operation, especially if we have had little contact with that area? I would close as I began: emphasizing that these are some of my reflections concerning unity, at least limited, possibly erroneous. It was my intention, and is my hope, that these reflections might be a means of stimulating reflections on the problems of unity and ways in which the present degree of unity might be improved. A. D. Hecker, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 558 EDWARD R. TRUBAC Long-term Financial Planning for Religious Communities Faced* with scarce resources generated by a growing number of apostolates combined with a declining number of vocations, religious communities have increasingly turned to planning in order to allocate these resources in the best way possible. However, present planning has gen-erally been of a short-term nature principally designed to meet the rather immediate needs of the religious com-munity. Many decisions have been made without a clear notion of their long-run financial implications and with-out a careful analysis of alternative proposals. In my talk I would like to begin by discussing some basic principles of planning, then apply these principles to the long-range needs of religious communities, and conclude by tracing some of the financial implications of planning decisions, Basic Principles of Planning In referring to long-range planning, I am not talking about an informal annual get-together in which adminis-trators meet to give their opinions about the course of the future. Neither am I referring to the kind of planning which is initiated because of some kind of crisis, such as a sharp decline in profits for a firm or a sudden increase in instructional expenses for a school. This kind of plan-ning is really not planning at all; in fact, it ilIustrates the costs associated with a lack of planning in which options to act and shape events are restricted as one is forced to react and adapt to a given situation. Long-range planning is a formal, organized process in which a person or group of persons is 'specifically * This is the text of a talk given on February 26, 1969, at the Conference for Religious in Financial Management held at the University of Notre Dame. ÷ ÷ Edward R. Tru-bac is assistant pro-lessor of finance; University of Notre Dame; Notre Dame, Indiana 46556. VOLUME 2~ 1969 charged with developing a plan of what the organization should look like in five or ten years; the basic purpose of the plan is to mobilize the available resources of the or-ganization in a way that will best achieve its objectives: Firms which have adopted formal plans often seek new ventures through mergers, acquisitions, product line diversifi-cation, or market expansion. They are not satisfied with main-taining the status quo unless they determine, after careful analysis, that this is the best possible course of action. And, in some instances, a company can improve its performance significantly by planning ways to increase the efficiency of cun-ent operations, rather than following the more glamorous but more risky diversification route? To repeat, long-range or strategic planning, to use the more popular term, is essentially concerned with the eval-uation of alternative courses of action (with the stress on the word alternative) in an effort to select the best course of action for the future. And by best course of action, I mean the one that best meets the objectives of the organi-zation. ÷ ÷ ÷ Edward R. Trubac Planning Principles and the Long-Term Needs of Religious Communities This approach is obviously applicable to religious communities as well as to business firms. Like firms, re-ligious communities have in the past few yeais become more actively engaged both in "product line diversifica-tion" and efforts designed to improve the efficiency of current operations. For example, some alternatives that might be grouped within a long-term planning framework for a typical religious community would be: (a) Should the community continue to own and op-erate small hospitals, should only large ones be consid-ered, or should the community relinquish ownership ~ind merely staff hospitals and homes? (b) Is it advisable to continue the two-year college in its present form on the motherhouse campus or should it be discontinued and a house of formation set up near a university campus? (c) Should the community continue in elementary edu-cation, should expansion in secondary schools be consid-ered, or should sisters accept teaching positions in secular institutions? (d) Should a religious community operate only in schools andhospitals, or should many of the members be actively engaged in some of the various types of social work that are open to today's sister? A correct though obviously superficial answer to the REV1EW FOR RELIGIOUS x Harold W. Henry, "Formal Long-range Planning and Corpora-tion Performance," Michigan Business Review, November, 1968, 560 p. above questions would be to do what you think is best. But what is best is again dependent on your objectives. And while you may start with general goals, acceptable guidelines for decision-making must be phrased in con-crete and measurable terms. Here business firms have a decided advantage over non-profit organizations. For while a firm may have as its general objective the opera-tion of a diversified, growing, and profitable worldwide manufacturing business, its specific objective will prob-ably be couched in terms of a specified rate of return on investment; the evidence of the firm's success in meeting this goal can easily be gleaned from its financial report. For the typical religious community, the honor and glory of God and the sanctification of its members would adequately reflect its general objectives, these goals to be specifically achieved through the external works of char-ity of caring for the sick, social work, and the education and training of youth. But while the subobjectives of business firms (for example, a specified rate of return on investment) lend themselves to rather precise measure-ment and, therefore, evaluation, those of religious com-munities do not. First, it is difficult to identify measurable goals in health care, social work, and education, particu-larly Catholic education. And if you cannot specify your objectives in measurable terms, how can you accurately evaluate your operations? This is a problem that most non-profit institutions have in common. Moreover, even if you could express the objectives of each apostolate in meas-urable terms, there would still be the problem of com-paring different units of measurement; in other words, a firm can estimate the expected contribution of each new venture or product in terms of a common denominator-- profit. But how does a religious community, trying to maximize the benefits from its various activities, compare the gains from medical care with the gains from educa-tion when these benefits are expressed in different units of measurement? Finally, religious congregations are faced with the unique problem of structuring a community life that will maximize spiritual development as they al-locate their resources to their various works. Measurable Guidelines for Allocating Resources to the Various Apostolates Because of the difficulties in defining measurable units of output, value judgments will necessarily play a large role in the choice of community works. However, I do think there are some objective guidelines that should not be ignored. First, religious communities are constrained in selecting apostolic works by the specialized nature of their resources, both people and buildings. While people probably constitute the chief constraint, I am familiar ÷ ÷ Financial Planning VOLUME 213, 1969 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS with several cases o~ communities who have experienced difficulties in changing the pattern of their activities be-cause of the problems involved in liquidating their in-vestment in buildings and equipment. Now when I use the term constraint in referring to people, I do not mean to use it in a negative sense. If members of a religious community are competent in and motivated toward, for example, the medical care field, then the community should be in that area (one of the first steps in the planning process should be an inventory of talents and attitudes for the various works). Each apostolate can easily be broken down into several sub-apostolates that are in urgent need of competent and highly motivated people. To take the medical care apos-tolate as an example: (a) Religious communities strong in administrative personnel will continue the traditional pattern of ownership and manage-ment. (h) Some will wish to retain ownership and policy making responsibility but will be unwilling to pr.epare religious for administration. They will utilize religious m direct service to patients and in purely spiritual roles and will be obliged to place administration in the hands of seculars. (c) Others may give only direct care while still others, de-pending on their preferences and training, may engage in home nursing, care for the aged or programs for retarded and handicapped people.* Financial Considerations in the Planning Process Financial considerations must also play a roIe in plan-ning the optimal mix of activities. I would like to see religious communities, in formulating their long-term plans, estimate their expected net financial return on in-vestment in each of the apostolates under consideration; that is, they should calculate the financial costs and bene-fits of each apostolate. I am certainly not suggesting that if a community never expects to cover its expenses from a particular activity that it should drop that work. What I am saying is that it would be very useful to identify the apostolates that are expected to operate at financial losses over the next five to ten years. Because if projections show that certain activities will not generate sufficient income to meet expenses, then a decision to subsidize that apos-tolate will have to be made in the light of projected total financial resources, including income on investments, con-tributions, debt financing, surplus generating apostolates or a combination of all these approaches. I should like to digress for a moment and mention that while the expansion or contraction of investments in the various apostolates should not hinge merely on their ex- ~John J. Flanagan, S.J., "What I~ the Catholic Hospital Apos-tolate?" Hospital Progress, March, 1966, pp. 50-1. pected financial returns, there are other investments, those which are not directly involved in attaining the objec-tives of the order, where financial factors should domi-nate. Here I am including not only financial assets such as stocks and bonds but also such assets as the farm owned by many religious congregations. Apart from special con-siderations, such as the community's sensitivity to charges of its being land rich, the farm should be evaluated solely on the basis of its expected financial rate of return. The evaluation technique would basically first involve deter-mining the current investment in the farm in terms of equipment and building values plus the current market value of the land. One would estimate the net dollar re-turn on the farm for the next five or ten years including as your return both estimated net income from the farm and expected appreciation bf land values. An expected rate of return should then be secured by discounting these future dollar returns to the present; this rate would be compared to the return on alternative investment op-portunities. If the expected rate of return on the farm is less than 5%, the existing rate on time deposits, then one would be well advised on that basis to dispose of the farm. Determining the Costs of Apostolates In calculating the expected net financial return from each apostolate, the first step would be to examine cost experiences in the recent past as a basis for future cost projections; data for the past three to five years should be sufficient for this exercise, although it should be stressed that the usefulness of past data for projection purposes is inversely related to the degree of change experienced by the community in the recent past. Securing this infor-mation may well present some problems since the stand-ard chart of accounts used by many religious communi-ties is not structured around the various apostolates. There are usually separate accounts for the generalate, provincialate, and local houses; in addition, expenses are usually categorize.d along input (salaries, travel expenses, supplies, and so forth) and institutional (junior .college on the motherhouse campus) lines rather than focusing on the various outputs (medical care, educational work, social work) of the community. The junior college prob-ably serves more than one apostolate and these educa-tional costs should be allocated to the various works of + the community. In the same vein, the category travel ex- + penses will also include costs associated with a variety of ~" apostolates. In addition, an attempt should be made, where possible, to allocate administrative expenses among .1~i.na~.ia't P!anning the different works of the community. I am not advocat-ing a wholesale overhaul of the accounting systems, of VOLUME aa, ~96~, religious communities. I am merely suggesting a supple- 563 REV]EW FOR RELIGIOUS mental technique designed specifically for long-term plan-ning purposes that will facilitate the cost projections for each of the various apostolates. In ferreting out all costs, the focus should primarily be on the educational, administrative, maintenance, and re-tirement costs associated with placing and sustaining peo-ple in the various apostolates; per capita expenses in each of these categories for each of the apostolates should be derived, summed, and projected into the future; this re-suiting figure should then be multiplied by the estimated number of people in each of the community's activities in order to secure a total estimated cost figure for each apos-tolate. Capital expenditures on building and equipment directly associated with the works of the community (par-ticularly hospitals and colleges as a result of the contin-uing trend toward separate ificorporation and ownership) should ordinarily not be treated as an expense to the com-munity although there are certainly numerous cases where, for example, debt service requirements generated by building programs could not be met by the school or hospital and constituted a severe financial drain on the religious community. One of the great advantages of identifying costs, for ex-ample, the costs of educating sisters, is that it permits one to price and compare alternative approaches to supply-ing the same or approximately the same type of educa-tion. Although I will readily admit that considerations other than financial are extremely important and even overriding in certain situations, still the right kind of fi-nancial information will at least permit a comparison of the costs of sending a person to be educated at the junior college for sisters on the motherhouse campus with the cost of education at a university. The question of which costs less will require careful analysis but the cost differ-ential will probably not be as great as might be deter-mined from examining the accounting records of many religious communities; that is, the cost may not be ap-preciably less to send a person to junior college and may, in fact, be more expensive. One of the hidden costs I am alluding to is the failure of many religious communities to fully account for the contributed services of the mem-bers of the order who are teaching in these colleges. By contributed services, I mean in this case the salary that a member of the religious community could have earned teaching at a university minus her maintenance costs at the motherhouse that are met by the community. For ex-ample, if the subsistence needs of a religious teaching at a junior college for sisters are valued at $2,000 a year while she could have earned $10,000 annually teaching at a university, then the contributed services would total $8,000. A recent survey by one of the graduates of our program in institutional administration indicated that only 50% of the junior colleges surveyed included con-tributed services in their budget as an expense to be met by the community. This omission gives a very distorted picture of the true costs of operating junior colleges. A less hidden but perhaps more controversial cost is that of depreciation. The traditional argument against non-profit institutions depreciating their capital assets is that the needed funds are not generated from operating income as with a business firm, but are commonly ob-tained through fund-raising campaigns. I feel, however, that all costs should be identified, regardless of how they are met. Moreover, communities may find donations to be a very undependable source of funds in the future. As a further point, most hospitals depreciate their capital as-sets. This policy on the part of hospitals of accounting for depreciation has been given added stimulus by third party payments which explicitly recognize depreciation as a reimbursable cost (for example, Medicare). As these third party payments become more widespread in the area of education, accounting for depreciation expenses will correspondingly grow in popularity. Again, it should be emphasized that identifying the education costs of sisters prods administrators to trace out alternative cost patterns. Another possibility, for ex-ample, is the growing practice of affiliate membership in which the person finances her own college education if at all possible, but maintains regular contacts with the con-gregation. This policy, of course, would be the least ex-pensive (it would also meet the problem of people leav-ing the community after being educated but before earning any return for the community); but the issue of the impact on vocations would certainly have to be care-fully explored. A similar analysis should be applied to maintenance, administrative, and retirement costs. Past cost data allo-cated among the various apostolates should be secured as a basis for projecting total costs in the future. The pro-jected cost of current procedures should then be com-pared with cost projections of alternative ways of meeting these needs. Projecting Net Financial Returns from Each of the Apostolates After the cost information has been properly processed, the last step in this exercise would require the projection of net financial returns for each of the various apostolates. These financial returns vary widely, depending on the particular activity. It should come as no surprise that the financial returns to religious communities are particu-larly meager from the Catholic secondary and elementary ÷ ÷ + Finandal Planning VOLUME 28, 1969 REVIEI/V FOR RELIGIOUS school apostolates. For religious teaching in colleges and universities and especially for those working in the medi-cal care area where contributed services are considered as reimbursable costs, the financial returns are competitive with those received by lay people with similar qualifica-tions and experience. But the salary and fringe benefits received by the typical sister teaching in a Catholic ele-mentary school (and this is irrespective of whether the school is community or diocesan owned) falls far short of even meeting the expenses incurred by the community in placing the sister in that position. The most detailed in-formation concerning this issue has been derived from Father Ernest Bartell's study on the financing of Catholic education. The data go back to 1963-64, but they serve their illustrative purpose. They show that the per capita contributed services of religious teaching in two dioceses averaged $5425 in one diocese and $3572 in the other.3 Contributed services are specifically defined as the salary that could have been earned by the religious teaching in the public school minus all recorded parish expenditures on behalf of the religious teachers, including cash sal-aries, gifts, and convent maintenance. In addition, a rental charge imputed on the parish investment in con-vent living facilities should be deducted; this charge would be equivalent to the earnings foregone by the parish on a comparable commercial investment. In his study Father Bartell also estimated that if one religious order teaching in one of the dioceses were just to break even and recoup its educational and retirement investment in its members, then it would have had to re-ceive $1057 yearly from each of its teachers over an aver-age working life of 40 years, even assuming that these payments could be invested at 5% during the lifetime of the religious teacher.4 Since the members of this order annually remitted, after current expenses, only $360 each back to the motherhouse, the $700 difference might be looked upon as a subsidy paid by the religious commu-nity to the diocese. Now, I am not going to strongly argue for or against this particular subsidy although I do believe that alter-native ways of reducing it should be carefully examined. One way might be to negotiate with diocesan authorities for salary increases. Another possible approach might be state aid where the contributed services of the sister would perhaps be recognized as a reimbursable cost, as in the medical care field. Or the community might simply 8 Ernest J. Bartell, C.S.C., "Efficiency, Equity and the Economics of Catholic Schools," Catholic Education Today and Tomorrow: Proceedings of the Washington Symposium on Catholic Education, 1968, pp. 12-3. *Ibid., p. decide that its estimated total financial resources will be sufficient to subsidize this apostolate. Conclusion In conclusion, I would like to see a statement along the following hypothetical lines included in the formal plan of each religious community. In deciding on the op-timum amount of resources to be devoted to apostolate A, B, C, and D, we have considered alternative ways of meeting the expenses associated with each activity and have chosen the best alternative for each. Next, in esti-mating the net financial benefits [or each of the aposto-lates over the next five to ten years, we project that activ-ity A will run a large deficit. But despite this expected deficit, we wish to keep our commitment to this aposto-late and estimate that apostolates B, C, and D will gener-ate a surplus of a sufficient size which when combined with income on investments and expected donations will meet the deficit in A. I strongly feel that this type of approach will add a more realistic dimension to community planning. Finandal Planning VOLUME 28, 1969 567 LOUIS TOMAINO Religious Community and the Johari W ndow ÷ ÷ Louis Tomaino is the associate di-rector of Worden School of Social Service; Our Lady of the Lake Col-lege; San Antonio, Texas 78207. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 568 The building of effective human community is gen-erally regarded as one of the most critical issues facing religious orders now and in the near future. Such community spirit is essentially a group phenomenon and it may be that certain findings in group dynamics are very relevant to religious communities. In this paper we are concerned mainly with communities of women. In evaluating the kinds of relationships present in human community, a conceptual model designed by Joe Luft and Harry Ingham for use in the National Train-ing Laboratories seems particularly helpful. It is called the Johari Window.1 This model, although not prepared specifically for religious, states that the sister by her actions and words in the community, projects a kind of "window" of herself which is viewed by others. Other members of the community likewise project similar windows and the sum total of these projections is a powerful dynamic which fashions group relationships in that community. The Johari Window represents four kinds of informa-tion which governs the flow of relationships among community members involved. This includes: A. Things the sister knows about herself and the community and about her feelings about others. B. Things the sister does not know about herself and the community and about her relationships with others. C. Things others in the community know about the sister and the community. D. Things others do not know about sister and the community and about the relationships therein. By "things" we mean sisters' thoughts, impulses, desires, fears, fantasies, prejudices, hopes, dreams and goals. Thus, sister's Johari might look like this: a Joseph Luft, "Johari's Window," Human Relations Training News, v. 5 (1961), p. 6. Things known by others Things unknown by others Things known by sister THE ARENA (open area of the re-lationship) THE FACADE (are~ of hidden de-fenses) Things unknown by sister THE BLIND SPOT (realities not recog-nized) THE UNKNOWN (unexplored reali-ties) 1. The Arena--This is that part of the relationship which is open: ". the cards are on the table." This refers to that part of sister that is completely honest because she faces community issues in the open. When group issues or problems are known and faced by all members openly, we say that these things are in the arena. 2. The Blind Spot This area comprises those thoughts, feelings, and so forth which sister has, but of which she is not aware. However, others in the com-munity do see these things in her because her actions and words make them visible. For example, the sister with definite authoritarian leanings may not recognize this tendency in her interactions with others, but others see itl 3. The Facade--This area consists of feelings, moti-vations, and so forth which sister has, but keeps hidden for whatever reason, oftentimes because she may con-sider their revelation as inappropriate. Therefore, while she knows these things about herself, other community members are not able to perceive them. 4. The Unknown--This includes those aspects of sister's group relations which are unexplored, latent, unconscious, and simply not known. The goal in building community is to make the Arena as large as possible so that conditions for com-munication are improved through openness, free inter-change and productive action. Everything we have said so far about sister can truly be said about community. Realistically, the obstacles to developing real com-munity cannot be dealt with until they are known. These hurdles cannot even be accurately identified until sister and the community develop an open arena where issues can be placed. Therefore, how does one go about establishing a large arena? Let's consider two processes termed exposure and feedback and how they may be utilized to alter sister's Johari. If she really opens up with other sisters, if she + lohari Win¢lo~ is not too insecure to discuss her own doubts and questions, sister will be revealing something of her-self. This is exposure. She will humanize herself by demonstrating that she too is subject to many of the hazards faced by others. Whitaker2 refers to four kinds of openness. Verbal openness, or the process of using direct words to express to another exactly what we mean. ,4ffective openness or the sharing with others our personal experience of boredom, depression, anger, warmth, fantasy, and physical contact. Physiologic open-ness as shown through expressing a blush, hunger, or a headache. No purpose openness is the occasional idle hour, the no-point-in-it encounter, where people are "just there" with no visible goals in mind. To do this comfortably requires real open-endedness. In performing these kinds of things the sister shows part of herself and neutralizes some of her facade. The horizontal line of the Johari is moved downward, thereby enlarging the arena, eliminating some facade and mak-ing the unknown area smaller. Feedback means simply a way of securing some knowl-edge about ourselves as individuals and as community members. It is indispensable to establishing lines of communication and to changing ourselves. This idea urges that the sister create opportunities whereby others may give her feedback on herself. This feedback might tell her things about herself which she did not previously know and thereby elimi-nate some blind spot. The perpendicular line of the Johari" is moved laterally which makes the arena larger, the blind spot smaller, and the unknown is further diminished. If the Sister desires and secures both feedback and exposure, her Johari would look like this: Feedback REVIEW'FOR RELIGIOUS ~ Carl Whitaker, M.D., "Open Communication from the Psycho. therapist," Existential Psychiatry, Spring, 1966, pp. 55-8. The large arena suggests that something is really happening in the life of this sister. Blind spots (I didn't realize you thought I didn't like you) are clarified. The unknown is decreased (I'm glad we both know how we feel on this point), and energies previously used to maintain facades are now diverted to more constructive purposes. The possibilities for communica-tion and change are vastly enhanced with things now put into the arena where they can be managed. We are suggesting, in effect, that those religious groups characterized by large arenas have created conditions favorable to building effective community. The sum of individual Johari's in the group tends to promote a general or average Johari for the whole community. The larger the arena, the greater the chance for ef-fective community. The question might indeed he raised: Of what value to community life are blind spots, facades, or unknowns? Some other, and extreme, windows sometimes seen in both individuals and communities are as follows: The large unknown tells that this sister desires neither feedback nor exposure. She is strictly official and operates by "the rule." Other sis-ters never get to know her. In this situation the sister is willing to expose, hence the small facade. She tolerates no feedback from others in the community and thereby does not know what others think of her. This sister constantly seeks feed-back from others but is not willing to put herself "on the line" with others. Hence the large facade. Too much facade breeds conditions for mistrust. Needless to say, the climates generated by such win-dows are not conducive to developing the kinds of + atmospheres associated with productive community life. + ÷ Some Findings about Sisters Jay Hall and Martha Williams developed a Personnel Relations Survey~ inventory of 60 items which, when s Jay Hall and Martha Williams, Personnel Relatio~ Survey, ~ohari Window VOLUME 28, 1969 571 taken by individuals, projects for them a personal Johari Window profile. Group profiles can also be averaged out on this test. In the past year this writer has administered the Johari Test to approximately 600 sisters from various congregations as part of Group Dynamics Workshops. Using a total sample of 500 sisters we are able to secure interesting data on the kinds of windows projected by sisters. Hall and Williams constructed their questionnaire in such a way that it yields a Johari for the respondent relative to his subordinates, to his colleagues, and to his superiors. It also illustrates an "average" Johari for each respondent. The generalizations about sisters which can be made from the 500 taking the test are these: 1. Sisters tend to be slightly more open than other groups tested in workshop (ex-school teachers, social workers, policemen). Given the goals and values of religious group life, however, the sisters do not appear to be significantly more open than other less cohesive groups. 2. Sisters tend to be less open with their superiors than with subordinates or colleagues. This may be a product more of unapproachable superiors than of reti-cent sisters. Sisters revealed greater facade with su-periors than with the other two groups. 3. Arenas were larger with colleagues than with the other two groups. 4. Sisters seem to be more concerned with feedback than with exposure which seems to be typical of most groups. Out of a possible high score of 50 the sisters tallied an average score of 35 for feedback and 29 for exposure. In summary the general relationship tendencies of the 500 sisters appeared as shown on following page. Looking at the type of window projected by sisters suggests information which may be helpful in develop-ing greater openness among sisters, hence more effective community. The survey shows that sisters tend to be less open with superiors than with the two other groups. How can openness be achieved in this area? Many modern theo-logians stress the fact that religious obedience can be thought of as a shared responsibility. The Holy Spirit speaks through the entire community and not only through the superior. It seems, therefore, the re-sponsibility of each individual sister to contribute to REVIEW FOR RELI$10U$ unpublished training inventory, Southwest Center for Law and the 572 Behavioral Sciences, University of Texas at Austin, 1965. E u r e 5 10 15 20 '25 30 35 45 50 5 Feedback ) 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 community development by sharing her ideas, sugges-tions, and other Johari "things" with others. If the spirit works through each person, how can the commu-nity know the will of God if each is not willing to share? In making decisions which affect the community each sister assumes a great responsibility. It has been found that decisions reached via consensus tend to be more accurate than individual or minority decisions. Consensual thinking in the community can be gained through open discussion, sharing, and listening on the part of each community member. Although arriving at such decisions in community meetings may be time consuming, their very importance suggests that the group might well afford the time involved. Creating an atmos-phere of openness requires conscious work over months or even years. Thus, we seem to be saying that human community can be nurtured by development of a large arena through the conscious use of both openness and feed-back. The documents of Vatican II, especially the Church in the Modern World, lend eloquent support to this idea as seen in the following statements: h¯f eT wheh epnr itmheit mivue lCtithuudrec hof. pbreohveivdeerds ,w aenr ee xoaf monpele h oefa rct oamndm ounneity mind, and found nourishment in the teaching of the gospel and in the sacred liturgy, especially the Eucharist. Let such a life continue in prayerfulness and a sharing of the same spirit. As Christ's members living fraternally together, let + ÷ lohari Window VOLUME 28, 1969 573 them excel one another in showing respect and let each carry the other's burdens. For thanks to God's love poured into hearts by the Holy Spirit, a religious community is a true fam-ily gathered together in the Lord's name and rejoicing in His presence . In fact, brotherly unity shows that Christ has come; and from it results great apostolic influence (Decree on the Appropriate Renewal o[ the Religious Li[e, n. 15). Thus it is evident to everyone that all the faithful of Christ of whatever rank or status are called to the fullness of the Christian life and to the perfection of charity. By this holi-ness a more human way of life is promoted even in this earthly society (Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, n. 40, par. 3). The People of God and the human race in whose midst it lives render service to each other. Thus the mission of the Church will show its religious, and by that very fact, its su-premely human character (The Church in the Modern World, n. 11). Let .chapters and councils faithfully acquit themselves of the govermng role given to them; each should express in its own way the fact that all members of the community have a share in the welfare of the whole community and a responsibility for it (Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life, n. 14). Christ arouses not only a desire for the age to come, but by that very fact, He animates, purifies and strengthens those noble longings too by which the human family strives to make its life more human (The Church in the Modern World, n. 38, par. 3). Through her individual members and her whole commu-nity, the Church believes she can contribute greatly toward making the family of man and its history, more human (The Church in Modern World, n. 40, par. 5). ÷ ÷ Louis Tomaino REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 574 JOSEPH F. ROCCASALVO, S.J. The Presence of Christ in Christian Community The presence of Christ in the Christian community is a fascinating topic, but one that is not easy to treat in a free and familiar style. This is so, because we face a difficult and important question: how can we adequately recognize this presence in our experience. In reading any answer, no matter how well formulated, we must avoid the mistake of expecting too much. The bodily Christ is hidden from our view. Unlike the Apostles who walked with Him in Jerusalem or stood close by when He preached from the waters of Galilee, His visible counte-nance cannot now be seen, touched, or handled. It is not that we feel He hides Himself capriciously; yet there are times when we are overwhelmed by our desire to see Him, without resorting to any writer's conception or artist's portrait. We are tempted to cry out: "Christ, come forthI Let Your loyal followers look upon You. Draw the screen that conceals Your presence from our hu-man eyes." But despite our pleas there is no physical ap-pearance, and we would not dare to hope for one. In addressing myself to the preceding difficulty, I shall formulate my answer through an indirect use of con-cepts. By this I mean that such concepts will try to illumine for the reader the experience they point to, without intending to adequate it entirely. Since we are dealing with the most personal dimension of Christianity, our faith or commitment to a Person, its ultimate signifi-cance must lie beyond the frontier of language in the do-main of mystery. Yet granting this radical incommuni-cability in the final analysis, one may use concepts as long as it is remembered that they are open to the term towards which they aspire. The reader, then, must be like one who contemplates an horizon. Beyond the outline of words he seeks perspectives which he can barely discern but which draw him precisely because of the mystery he + Joseph A. Roc-casalvo, s.J., is a member of Wood-stock College in Woodstock, Mary-land 21163. VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ ÷ ÷ Joseph F. Roccasa~o, $.$. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS senses in them. The formulation is of value, not only for what it says, but also for what it may suggest. As a point of departure for this analysis, we must start with our experience. In assigning content to this word we take. it to mean the whole range o~ the self's active relationship with the other, or the entire range of reality as disclosed to me and to which I respond. But this is my experience: it is the real as disclosed to one who is a Christian, committed to the Church and the faith of the Church. Since faith is part of my experience, part of the real as disclosed to me, it must necessarily be a Christian experience, including all that the life of faith includes. Here it must be recalled that my faith is first and foremost a commitment to a Person who has invited me to share a life in which He Himself will be my ful-fillment. In other words, my faith is a total response of mind and heart to Christ who has entered my world and lived His li~e in our midst. What, then, is the purpose of a Christian who reflects upon his experience to which his faith is interior? Since my personal relationship with Christ is a lived conviction, an intimate part of the reality that discloses itself to me, I shall try in my reflection to spell out the implications of this total commitment. I undertake this task because I am compelled by my freedom to take a personal stand towards my life and to be fully responsible for that stand. I must use the reasoned reflection of the philo-sophical method to avoid doing this naively. In brief, I shall try to discern by analysis how my personal commit-ment to Christ makes Him present to me, not in terms of revelation or the magisterium of the Church, but as dis-closed in my lived experience. This reflection, then, will help make me a more responsible and responsive Chris-tian. As I have indicated, the faith which is interior to my lived experience is fundamentally a personal commit-ment of mind and heart to the Person of Clu-ist. He has spoken to me in time, using words which He has in-tended for all men. Included within these words is the promise of continued presence, in spite of visible ab-sence: "Where two or more are gathered in my name, I am in the midst"; or, "If anyone will love me. I will mani-fest myself to him." Still again He tells us: "I am with you all days, even to the consummation of the world." While I cannot expect that His presence will be manifest by some physical appearance, I may rightly expect, through trust in His personal promise, some kind of experimental awareness of His presence in and through the gathered Christian community. Our inquiry can be placed in the form of a thesis statement: whether or not there is a special presence of Christ, experienced within the Chris- tian community. If there is, how can it be described phenomenologically, and what are the requisites for this partictalar theophany? Our question can be restated more dynamically: when I experience my witness to this Person in communion with other Christians, how does He "draw nigh"? Is His presence a diffused, unthematized one, con-comitant with the consciousness of the Christian com-munity; and if this is so, how may it be thematized upon reflection? This analysis, of course, does not necessarily exclude His coming-to-presence in other ways. Before we can discover what is the special character of Christ's presence in the witnessing Christian community, we must first analyse the meaning of this rather elusive word. ~Nhat does it mean to have someone or something present? The dictionary tells us. that the word is used in at least two distinct senses: first, it can mean physical presence, namely, that which is or stands before one, in view or at hand; that which is spatially located in this place and not elsewhere. Second, the word may have a temporal significance, referring to contemporaneous pres-ence, or that which is not past or future, but is operative in the time that is now. It is precisely in these two senses of physical and contemporaneous presence that phe-nomenologists like Luijpen have described man's terres-trial life as an intentional existence in and towards the world through knowledge and love. Through knowledge the world is physically and con-temporaneously present to my consciousness as I am to it, for to know is simply to exist as present with the world. Therefore, it is through this co-presence of knowledge that the world begins to disclose itself and be for a man. ~,Vithin this disclosure the meaning of the world refers itself to other human presences, so that as I live I realize that the world presents itself, not merely for me, but for the other also. The world is present to us both, one we mutually encounter. My presence in the world is emi-nently co-presence. Gradually I begin to realize that the presence to me of persons is radically different from things. While the latter are unaware of me, in fact, are indifferent to my stature as a man, my presential awareness of persons tells me that they may take my presence uniquely into account, re-sponding warmly to my whole world of needs, concerns, and achievements. I have given the other access to myself in a way that is beyond the power of things. Of course, the responsiveness of the other to me is subject to degrees of encounter. For instance, I can meet someone with cordiality, shake hands with him, and sit down to dinner and conversation. On the other hand, I can speak to the same person on the telephone, or merely notice him on the opposite side of the street without speaking to him at The Pr,~ence o~ Christ 4, ÷ Joseph F. l~occo~a~vo, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS all. Our mutual presence to one another can remain on a distant, functional level, or it can open itself to more pro-found degrees of responsiveness. Through love my reply to the other's presence is a reply to his unique personhood. He has become for me a cen-ter of new meaning, so that whenever he comes within the range of my presence, I experience an appeal to con-sent to his, to accept it, to support and share it. He now becomes a presence which I cherish, someone who stands lovingly before me when he is visibly in view. Even when he is physically absent, his unique subjectivity grows into an atmosphere which encompasses me and abides, despite the most engrossing tasks. This is what is meant by being-loved. The other's loving presence makes my personal life be more fully and by his affection, aids and favors it. I no longer face the future as an isolated self-presence, and this alone is perhaps the most profound witness of love's contemporaneity: it has created a "we" that brings plenitude and happiness. Having seen from the preceding analysis how the per-son is present, to me through knowledge and love, we can now pass on to the next step in our analysis of Christ's communal presence. Since the Christian community is fundamentally made up of persons who confess a com-mitment to this Person as interior to their, experience, for the sake of ordered procedure we shall first describe the growth of the individual person's unique response to Christ, and then inquire what role the community played in its development. Someone may object, however, that description of such an affective relationship with Him is difficult, if not impossible, because as subject of my love, He does not come within the scope of the senses. This objection would be valid, were His visible presence abso-lutely necessary to sustain such a relationship. But as we shall see, bodily absence does not a priori exclude a personal confrontation with Him. Since "He was made in all things like unto man, sin alone excepted," or, in other words since He is wholly man, my loving commit-ment to Him will follow an interpersonal pattern. He will not let me doubt His intimate friendship with me, nor will He let me think that He is far removed to another sphere or order of creation. We are both persons, and to ascertain the degrees of encounter with one another is to see applied the formulations derived, from the phe-nomenology of love. Let us look back, for a moment, and see how presential knowledge of Him blossomed into the presence of love. As a Christian who steps back and reflects upon the history of his love for Christ, I discover that initially my contact with Him was a certain mild acquaintance, mostly derived through insertion in the world of other Christians. Through dialogue this man was seen as a source and center of activity, a Person of boundless understanding, tender heart, and constancy in action. There was a certain generous and uplifting quality about Him, which made Him both admirable and attractive. The personal dynamism of this man was present to me as something known, though somehow memorable. He was contemporaneously present to my life via the intentional-ity of knowledge. Gradually the knowledge of this man becomes in-teriorized and the remoteness of history vanishes. He is no longer a figure of the past, nor His life a fact of some past history, preserved through a lasting record. His words have a vitality which make them come alive for me, while those of other men are dead, or living only in books and monuments left behind. This man's words are timeless, and as they have beckoned to all men of all ages, they beckon to me now and call for my response: "I am the way and the truth and the light"; and again, "Come to me all you who are burdened and I will refresh you." The sheer radiance of.this man becomes indispensable in my eyes and wakens me to a new life. Admittedly His presence is not a bodily one, but in some ineffable way, His spirit is operative and quickens me now, so that He is contemporaneous with my life. His appeal to come and follow Him, to accept, support, and share His subjec-tivity is one to which I utter an uncompromising yes. I commit myself to this Person, adopt His name, and set Him up for my ideal. He is now not merely one whom I respect at a distance, but one for whom I care. I plan my destiny not alone, but with Him, for He is more to me than some unblemished truth or way of enlightenment. My whole being is seized by the desire to let Him be as He declared Himself: my very God. He is now the center of my experience, my faith, and what formerly existed as an object known in the knower, is now replaced by one who is cherished as a beloved is in a most intimate friend. This sense of togetherness between Christ and myself does not involve His bodily presence, to be sure. But it is not absolutely necessary that there be such a nearness to sustain our love. In order for two people to continue loving one another, it is not requisite that each be visibly on hand for the other. In fact, in the separation of two people in love, their affective response is still a con-temporaneous experience of a lasting bond. Their mu-tual love, despite distance, remains as a tonality, as an abiding atmosphere that permeates each other no matter what the task. How often have we heard it said: "I do not forget you; you are always in my thoughts." We do not reflect on the deep reality that lies beneath these words. We do not understand, or rather, realize, that when two ÷ ÷ The Presence Christ VOLUME 28, 1969 ,579 ÷ ÷ ÷ Joseph F. Roccasalvo, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 580 persons are united in love, they do not need to lie visibly side by side like two bodies. They are already in each other. This is the principle of all love union, and in particular, of the intimate friendship which is that union's highest form. So it is with myself and Christ to whom I have committed my life. Indeed I look forward hopefully (as anyone who has loved) to the time when we may be reunited in a face to face encounter. But for the extent of my waking life, this Person shall remain an abiding presence for me, operative within the center of my experience. At this point in our analysis, someone might offer the following conscientious objection: how was it possible to have achieved such a loving relationship with Christ, let alone sustain His contemporaneous presence, when one never had the occasion to confront Him in person? Is it not necessary to "ground," in some way, my power to respond? It is here that one must analyse the delicate role of the Christian community in aiding the growth of my personal commitment to Christ. Since I have discovered Him as the personal center of my life, He has also been disclosed as that center to which the common-unity of Christians offer their affirmation of love. Therefore, my commitment to this Person is not an insulated one. In fact, His presence as a presence-to-be. responded to in love would not have been possible if, anterior to my coming, there had not been a community that already celebrated their loving relationship to Him. This community was a "formative milieu," into which I was inserted and which allowed for this growth and re-sponsiveness in love. Therefore, just as I can only grasp myself as a person through the communal presence of other persons who appeal to me for a unique reply, so also I can only grow in a loving, presential awareness of Him insofar as He is disclosed in and through the Christian community. We will better see the roIe of the community as the place of His presence by seeking to un-derstand what transpires within its interior. In the community of Christians, the Person of Christ is the link which binds us, one to the other. This is so, because He is the point of agreement