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Issue 51.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1992. ; Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JANUARY-FEBRUARY 1992 ¯ VOLUME 51 ¯ NUMBER 1 Review fl)r Religious (ISSN 0034-630X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535 3048. Manuscripts, books fi)r reviexv, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious. 3601 l,indellBoulevard. St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Correspondence about the "Canonical Counsel" departmeut: Elizabeth McDonough ()P ¯ 5001 Eastcrn Avenue ¯ P.O. Box 29260 Washington, I).C. 20017. P()S'I'M~XSTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid a~ S~. Louis, Missouri, and additional offices. SUBS(~RIPTI()N RATES Single copy $5.00 includes surface mailing costs. ()he-year subscription $15.00 plus mailing costs. Two-year subscription $28.00 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover fl~r subscription infl~rmation and mailing costs. ©1992 Revieu for Religious review fre° [gii ous Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor . Assistant Editors Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer sJ Michael G. Harter sJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe David J. Hassel SJ Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden $SND Sefin Sammon FMS Wendy Wright PhD Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JANUARY / FEBRUARY 1992 ¯ VOLUME 51 ¯ NUMBER 1 contents 18 24 church and ministry Ecclesial Burnout: Old Demon, New Form Richard Sparks CSP suggests some remedies for overcoming a new strain of burnout which tends to afflict church ministers. Vincent Pallotti vs. Polarization Erik Riechers SAC shares some practical steps suggested by Vincent Pallotti for spiritual regeneration in a polarized church. The Ecumenical Kernel Dennis Billy CSSR explains how church unity involves a process of committed encounter between religious traditions whose very existence implies a relationship of concrete mutual dependence. 34 46 56 direction and discernment Elements and Dynamics of a Spiritual-Direction Practicum James Keegan SJ presents a successful way of putting together a spiritual-direction practicum and the personal and clinical issues involved. On Becoming a Discerning Person Charles Reutemann FSC describes in practical terms the meaning of spiritual direction, the person of the director, and the process of the direction session. Discernment and Decision Making Brian O'Leary SJ outlines elements for a pedagogy of discernment so necessary for our contemporary human and Christian situations. 2 Revie~ for Religious religious life 64 Making Sense of a Revolution Se~in Sammon FMS assesses the present state of religious life and sets an agenda for the process of renewal. 78 The Past Is Prologue Elizabeth McDonough OP identifies three interrelated phenomena which have significant influence on the direction of religious life. 98 An Experiment in Hope Mary Carty CND and MaryJo Leddy NDS report on a carefully planned intercongregational exploration in revitalizing religious life. 109 community and missien Internationality--At What Price? Janet Malone CND challenges any community which identifies itself as international to realize the concrete demands made on every aspect of their life together. 118 The Perils of Polarity Julia Upton RSM focuses upon the common roots from which both monastic and apostolic religious life take their growth. 134 Evangelizing Community William F. Hogan CSC suggests that religious who share faith in community are the best evangelizers. 140 4 144 149 Vocation as a Journey Brother Andrew shares a personal reflection on vocation as a crucifying walk in intimate union with Jesus. departments Prisms Canonical Counsel: Clerical Institutes Book Reviews January-February 1992 3 prisms As you page through this issue, you cannot help but notice the new appearance of Review for Religious. The development of this new look involved the staff, the members of the advisory board, and the Jesuit design group called Studio J in a critical assessment of everything from the important areas of content and edi-torial policies to the nitpicking aspects of the letterspac-ing of our new typeface. Our entire effort was to launch into our second half century of publication by enhancing our traditionally fine content and presenting it in a way that is truly "reader friendly." When Review for Religious began to be published in 1942, its very title gave evidence of its intended audi-ence- women and men consecrated in a special lifeform in the Catholic Church commonly called religious life. Yet even the first editors encouraged diocesan priests to use the journal articles as helps both for growing in their spir-ituality and ministry and for appreciating the various reli-gious- life traditions. Early on, too, lay women and men, especially those identified with third-order and sodality movements, were regular subscribers. With the burgeoning of lay ministries after Vatican II, there have been a growing number of lay readers, inter-ested particularly in developing their prayer life, under-standing their own roles as ministers of Christ, and even searching for better community models for family and parish, inspired by the internal efforts of religious com-munities. Our journal's contributors, too, illustrate the wide range of our readership--women, men, lay, religious, priests, even a bishop now and then. The question arose: Should the very name Review for Religious be changed to reflect its wider audience? 4 Review for Religious After much discussion we agreed that the religious-life empha-sis retains its central place because it focuses so well the rich spir-ituality traditions within the church. A secondary title, now evident on our cover, clearly highlights this aspect. But the pur-pose of Review for Religious remains just as current and necessary after fifty years: a forum for shared reflection on the lived expe-rience of all who find that the church's rich heritages of spiritu-ality- Augustinian, Benedictine, Dominican, Carmelite, Ignatian, Franciscan, Salesian, and many others--support their personal and apostolic Christian lives. For readers coming from whatever spiritual tradition, the articles in the journal are meant to be infor-mative, practical, or inspirational, written from a theological or spiritual or sometimes canonical point of view. The journal's look, then, is meant to reinforce its purpose. While you may miss the easily scanned backcover table of con-tents, we hope that you will find our Contents pages more infor-mative by their brief indication of an article's theme and by the grouping of various articles under sectional titles. The new sec-tional titles will keep changing from issue to issue, depending on the relationships among articles published in any one issue. Both the variety of sections and the variety of articles within a section are indicative of the vision and purpose of Review for Religious. In its 1942 beginnings this journal provided a com-munication forum which was almost nonexistent among various traditions represented by religious orders. Still today the mix of articles contributes to the ongoing understandings, critiques, and movements in our religious-life heritages so that we find new insight, expand our horizons, and collaborate more effectively for the good of our church life. I find a growing tendency among church people in the United States to read only the articles or books which reinforce their own views and to ignore or condemn out of hand an alternative or opposing approach. As an editor I find myself seldom (if ever) in total agreement with any one article--even in this iournal. For the healthiness of our life in Christ, we all need to appreciate and evaluate differences, changes, and developments in and among the various traditions which, contribute to the present makeup of the church. The articles in this iournal are like prisms which sub-tly nuance light into colorful and unexpected patterns. For exam-ple, some articles present contemporary ways of understanding our traditions; others probe new community forms, prayer prac- January-February 1992 5 Prisms tices, and models of ministering. You as reader may be inspired, surprised, or even annoyed by a particular theme or approach. For me the image of a prism suggests an application of the ministerial wisdom of St. Ignatius Loyola written at a time of church his-tory rife with excommunications and denunciations. Ignatius says: it should be presupposed that every good Christian ought to be more eager to put a good interpretation on a neighbor's statement than to condemn it. Further, if one cannot inter-pret it favorably, one should ask how the other means it. If that meaning is wrong, one should correct the person with love; and if this is not enough, one should search out every appropriate means through which, by understanding the statement in a good way, it may be saved. Sp Ex 22 (Ganss's translation) As the task of dialogue in the church takes on even greater importance, we want Review for Religious to remain a valued resource for people serious about their spiritual growth, for those involved in ministries, for members of religious congregations, and for spiritual directors and those seeking guidance. Review for Religious is privileged to play its role in that dialogue now as it has since its beginnings. Do let us know whether you find our newly designed journal "reader friendly." David L. Fleming sJ 6 Review for Relig4ous RICHARD C. SPARKS Ecclesial Burnout Old Demon, New Form cal, emotional, intellectual, social, and even spiritual energy--is reappearing among pastoral team members with alarming frequency. In those heady years immedi-ately following Vatican II, there appeared a strain of this self-induced dysfunction among zealous priests, sisters, brothers, and lay ministers who too literally tried to fol-low Paul's injunction "to be all things to all people." In their well-intentioned attempts to "be there" for the old and the young, the churched and the unchurched, parish-ioners and strangers alike, many in pastoral ministry "burned out." But it is not this "workaholic burnout''1 that I intend to discuss--though it still exists. I intend to discuss what I call ecclesial burnout. Most of us professed,, ordained, or hired in the last ten to fifteen years were schooled in a revised, more col-laborative model of ministry. This model is marked by job descriptions, staff meetings, attempts at collegial dia-logue, claiming one's personal needs and space, in short, Richard C. Sparks CSP is an editor at Paulist Press. He holds a doctorate in moral theology from Catholic University, with a specialty in biomedical ethics. He serves as an ethics consultant for several healthcare facilities and regularly offers professional and pastoral workshops on bioethics, sexuality, and moral deci-sion making. His address: Mount Paul Novitiate; Ridge Road; Oak Ridge, New Jersey 07438. church and ministry January-February 1992 7 a greater appreciation for the need of each minister to set limits and to nurture both professional and personal relationships. Ideally this leads to happier, healthier pastoral ministers, men and women who have found a better balance of work, play, prayer, exercise, rest, good nutrition habits, and so on. However, as most practitioners will admit, the team model in its all-too-human incarnations is no panacea. The lived experience of rule by com-mittee and collegial discernment does not always match the ideal. If the workshops I have given in various pastoral settings around the country are any indication, there is a new strain of ministerial burnout. It began in the early 1980s and seems to be immune to the simple correctives of prioritizing one's schedule, keeping in touch with friends, and religiously taking one's day off. The power of this ecclesial burnout to corrupt and to debil-itate formerly effective pastoral ministers (lay, clergy, and reli-gious alike) comes not from an overzealous commitment to work nor from an inflated sense of Lone Ranger ministry. Rather, I think, it is rooted in an erroneous, or at least inadequate, sense of church (that is, one's assumed ecclesiology). For the last five years I have been battling a mild-to-moderate case of it myself and am now slowly on the road to recovery. I feel it, I see it, others confide it, newcomers discern it, col-leagues transfer or leave church ministry altogether because of it--ecclesial burnout. No doubt much of it parallels other forms of psychological burnout. It certainly seems to fall within psy-chiatrist Herbert Freudenberger's classic definition: % state of fatigue or frustration brought about by devotion to a cause, way of life, or relationship that failed to produce the expected reward.''2 The symptoms are the same--long-term sullenness, a cynical edge, an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion, dissipated energy, forgetfulness, and depression (clinical or the everyday variety). People who suffer from ecclesial burnout frequently cite the cases of Charles Curran and Archbishop Hunthausen or the recent Vatican treatment of Rembert Weakland as precipitating their low mood. The suppression of certain catechisms, the removal of longstanding imprimaturs from books, the influence of CUF (Catholics United for the Faith) in Vatican curial circles, and the decidedly juridical tone of some CDF (Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith) documents contribute to a certain fear that "the party's over." For some, particular diocesan, chancery, or intracommunity ev~counters contribute to a general feeling of 8 Review for Religious malaise. It might sound like a simple case of the liberals' lament, revisionist Catholics being disheartened by what some see as a mid-course conservative correction following a quarter century of Vatican II experimentation.3 But many who placed great hopes in the church after Vatican II increasingly feel that aggiornamento (renewal) may be short-lived, that this era of church renewal may be the aberration and not the norm, and that we may soon be back to church history's "business as usual"--politics, legalism, inquisitions, and all. Those who suffer workaholic burnout are depressed that they personally did not measure up, could not be all things to all people, fell short of some impossible agapeic ideal. By contrast, among those who suffer ecclesial burnout, there is less a question of antipathy about personal imperfections and more of a sense of dis-illusionment with the church and its abil-ity to really be "the kingdom come." I hear story after story of frustration, that no-win Ecclesial burnout does not come from an overzealous commitment to work rlor from an inflated sense of Lone Ranger ministry. feeling of being the person caught in the middle--between the Vatican and people in the pew, between liberals and conserva-tives, between pro-school and pro-CCD proponents, between the "townies" and the university students, between right-to-lifers and everybody else, between the diocese (or one's generalate) and the parish, between Catholics and the wider society, between a pas-tor and other team or council members. Many feel drained, impo-tent, frustrated in their attempts to mediate, to get the church's act together, whether locally or in some larger arena of the church universal. While there are many contributing factors to this experience, I am convinced that one help toward navigating the shoals suc-cessfully is for each of us to reexamine our own ecclesial presup-positions and expectations. The insights that follow may be self-evident to some, but for me they have been eye-openers, a tremendous help on the road to recovery and reinvigoration. Much literature has been written expounding the theory that the dominant image of church in the decades, even centuries, pre-ceding Vatican II was the institutional model. In his often quoted January-February 1992 9 ~÷~s ¯ Ecclesial Burnout Models of the Church, Avery Dulles noted in 1974 that, while all five models--hierarchical institution, mystical communion, sacrament of Christ, herald of God's word, and servant of secular society-- coexist in the church, during any given era one or another tends to dominate.4 In the two major Vatican II documents on the church, as well as in the Final Report of the Synod of 1985, one can find all five models vying for central place,s Despite several decades of the-ologizing and deferential homiletic bows to the notions of church as people of God, mystical body, sacrament of Christ's ongoing presence, and herald of Gospel justice, it is my contention that our pastoral efforts after Vatican II expressed, for the most part, the same model fostered earlier, namely, the institutional model. Sure, we were going to do it better: more effective liturgy in the ver-nacular; more participatory parish, diocesan, and community gov-ernance; more developmental, story-laden religious education; more process-oriented evangelization (RCIA); more experiential approaches to reconciliation; and more social-justice-oriented ecumenism. But we were still about the task of running an insti-tution, making our little corner of the vineyard the best-struc-tured parish, Newman Center, diocesan office, or apostolate around. It seems to me that many of us made a subtle shift or trans-ference. After some initial flirtations with personal workaholism and its consequent form of burnout, we no longer expected our-selves to be supermen or superwomen, serving selflessly twenty-four hours a day, in season and out. But at the same time we did not reject the drive for perfectionism altogether. Rather, we trans-ferred it to our rejuvenated image of the church, expecting our post-Vatican II ecclesial structures to be or to become what we individually could not achieve. The church would or should become wholly Spirit-filled, renewed at all levels, from the Vatican curia, through the USCC, chancery, and intracommunity offices, right down to our own parish or center in Name-Your-City, USA (or Canada). If we all worked hard enough, whether as Lone Rangers or as collaborative partners, we could "pull this Vatican II thing off," making the Roman Catholic Church what some supposed it was intended to be, the kingdom of God incarnate on earth . . . as it is in heaven. "Oops," as one of my Catholic U. professors would have screamed, "you collapsed your eschaton." In such hopeful 10 Review for Religious expectation there seems to be no room for human sinfulness and finitude, too little room for well-intentioned visionaries, reform-ers, and sincere counterreformers to make mistakes. If we really can successfully create the reign of God on earth, then who needs redemption? We could cancel Christ's second coming. There would be no need for his break-through return at the end of time. In our newfound Camelot-like enthusiasm, I fear that we plotted a course destined to dis-appoint. Ask those priests, religious, and lay ministers who opted to leave. Ask those who had physical or emotional breakdowns. Ask those who are now recovering alcoholics, fooda-holics, adult children of alcoholics, or victims of other addictions and dysfunctions. Ask those who joined a religious order or diocese, only to be disillusioned when real life in community did not match vocation brochures or one's own idealistic expectations. Some of them are still searching for the diocesan, religious-order, or denominational "promised land." For the most part we seem to have faced the fact that none of us individually is Jesus Christ (and that even he faced his own doubts, fears, and temptations). By acknowledging that worka-holic perfectionism is wrong, some of us have conquered the demon of "works righteousness," allowing God's tender mercies to bathe us and to begin to heal our brokenness and wounds. Workaholic burnout seems to be waning, at least in the Catholic community.6 However, I do not think we have made great strides in grant-ing a similar benefit of the doubt and benevolent forgiveness to the church and its leaders (including ourselves) for not measuring up, for not ushering in the fullness of the kingdom of God. Hans Kiing, echoing the pioneering ecclesiology of Yves Congar, con-tinues to point out that the church is sinful as well as graced.7 Martin Luther, credited with coining the adage simuljustus etpec-cator, would hardly be surprised to hear that twentieth-century Roman Catholics are having trouble accepting that their church not only was, but is, and always will be sinful, in need of God's abiding assistance, patience, redemption, and frequent forgive-ness. If we really can successfully create the reign of God on earth, then who needs redemption ? January-February 1992 11 Sparks ¯ Ecclesia~Burnout Thus, the warning sign of ecclesial burnout is the sadness, bordering on depression, that has deeply affected many idealistic pastoral ministers upon their discovering that the church is not, and likely never will be, synonymous with the kingdom of God. But does not church teaching say that they are supposed to be one and the same, that the church (especially in its Roman Catholic incarnation) equals the kingdom of God? No, the bish-ops and theologians gathered at Vatican II rejected such a notion in an earlier draft for Lumen Gentium, in which the church in its fullest sense (that is, God's reign or kingdom) was to be equated with the Roman Catholic Church. In its place, the church's official magisters declared that the "church, established and ordained as a society in this world, sub-sists in the Catholic Church''8 (emphasis mine). Despite arguments to the contrary by some dissident conservatives, most ecclesiolo-gists take this to mean that, while the Roman Catholic Church manifests to some degree Christ's cosmic presence, it is not the sum and substance of church nor of the kingdom of God in their fullness. The visible church, at any point in its history, is never a spotless manifestation of the "mystical body," church in the ideal. Lumen Gentium goes on to propose that all Christians, the chil-dren of Israel, Islamic believers, other monotheists, as well as all who seek life's source and meaning with sincere hearts are some-how "related to the People of God," kin in some concentric sense in this family called church.9 The church then, in its most cosmic and echatological sense, is not synonymous with any denomination, though some churches--more than others, and in some historical eras more than others--better embody the call to be communion, sacra-ment, herald, servant, and institution. For those of us tempted to shrink the meaning of church to the institutional denomination or subset in which we have been professed, hired, or ordained, it is well to keep reminding ourselves that the kingdom to come, on earth and hereafter, is bigger. You might be tempted at this point to remark, "What you're saying is fine, but it doesn't apply to me. I already learned in ecclesiology class that the church is the imperfect pilgrim people of God and that it in some sense includes a wide variety of ecu-menically related brothers and sisters." My response is yes and no. I think most of us comprehend this broader ecclesial vision academically (in our heads) and even present it fairly effectively 12 Review for Religious in inquiry or RCIA programs. But I am not so convinced that we have let that broader vision of church, that benefit of the doubt about what can and cannot be accomplished in our lifetime, sink down into our souls, our intuitions, our feelings, our expectations about life as pastoral ministers in the real church of the 1980s and 1990s. I suggest that many of us could benefit from prayerful, per-sonal, and communal reflection on and attempts to incarnate a broader vision. The "kingdom of God" is not an institution, but a designation for any and all people of goodwill who are about God's business. Whether one views this in the language of Rahner's "Anonymous Christian" or in any of a number of more traditional categories (for example, mystical body, invincible ignorance), the community of believers, those who will share in the fullness of redemption, is not coterminous with card-carrying Roman Catholics or even avowed Christians more broadly considered.1° If I measure the coming of the kingdom with myopic vision, focused solely on institutional success or the extent to which my ministerial locus is perfectly fruitful and personally satisfying, I am destined to be disappointed--by my own impoverished "institu-tional" ecclesiology and by a graced but sinful church that always falls short of the ideal. In such a way, I think, many professional Catholic ministers (lay, religious, and clergy alike) are spinning their wheels, burning up psychic energy on form and parochial structures, not Gospel substance. Either we invest too much time and talent trying to create the perfect institutional program, or else we spend time bemoaning the fact that many of our best-laid parochial plans come to naught or go awry. In the process, frus-trations mount, leading to personal and ministerial dissatisfac-tion, depression, departures, and so on. Voile, ecclesial burnout, or maybe I should say burnout induced by unrealistic ecclesio-logical expectations. It seems to me that any proposal for recovery from this form of burnout entails an attitudinal shift. We can change our atti-tude in either of two ways. First, we can expand our definition of church in the light of Lumen Gentium, allowing that no denom-ination or institution can or will incarnate it fully. It takes a lot of The warning sign of ecclesial burnout is sadness, bordering on depression. January-February 1992 13 Sparks ¯ Ecclesial Burnout self-reminding to allow this ecclesiology to sink in, to become our true modus vivendi. We need to reconceive ourselves as min-isters not solely of the Vatican-based Roman Catholic denomi-nation, nor even of the Christian tradition explicitly professed, but of the elusive, ever evolving church of Pentecost, mindful that the fruit of our labor, though real, will be limited at best. Our whole identity as a church employee or minister ought not to be caught up in structural successes and programmatic gains. This broader view of church, if taken to heart, can free us to relish grace incarnate wherever we find it, being less obsessed with insti-tutional achievements and shortcomings. The second change of attitude, in some ways a semantic vari-ation on the first, involves constricting our definition of church, letting it be a referent for various institutional efforts to incarnate faithful and Christ-like living, while conceiving of our ministry more broadly, focused on the wider kingdom of God. Thus we see ourselves less as minions of the institutional church (though not denying our sacramental role and ecclesial responsibilities) and more as ministers or facilitators of the kingdom, God's reign in time and space in all its manifestations. As Patrick Brennan phrases it in his recent best-seller Re-Imagining the Parish: Is the church an end in itself?. No! In this more traditional view of church, the church as movement, as people in a sacred relational bond of faith, exists as servant and instru-ment of something larger, more important than itself--that is, the reign or kingdom of God.11 The kingdom comes in myriad ways, some explicitly religious, many only implicitly so. We can and do find God incarnate in Paschal Triduum liturgies as well as in rather routine daily Masses; in powerful sacramental moments as in exquisite sunsets or a deer crossing the road at some country retreat; in the warmth of old friends, comfortable clothes, and mellow music as well as in the discovery of new relationships and the unexplored terrain of new ideas; in the gathering of colleagues and friends for professions, ordinations, anniversaries, and even funerals; and in vacation times far away from community members and parish life. Wherever there is love, life, and hope (that is, resurrection) in the face of life's limits, including death, we who are Christian ministers should point and say, "There is God's kingdom at hand." When those life-giving moments are in church (liturgy, Scripture, religious education, a retreat weekend, social-justice ministry), 14 Review for Religious let us sing a full-throated alleluia. But when such moments are part of church in its more cosmic sense or beyond the church in a kingdom-coming sense (symphony orchestras, art, nature, Windham Hill albums, even in Leo Buscaglia tapes and some New Age con-cepts), there too we should point to God's incarnate grace and voice praise. Over a decade ago I heard Richard McBrien use the parable of the ten lepers (Lk 17:11-19) as a type for this broader concept of church vis-h-vis the kingdom of God. He noted that all ten lepers were made clean, that is, all ten were redeemed. All ten were made ready for the heavenly banquet. The tenth leper, the one who realized what had been done to and for him, returned to give thanks, to praise God, and to be a herald of this good news. That tenth leper, McBrien suggested, is the church in its institutional manifesta- The community of believers, those who will share in the fullness of redemption, is not coterminous with card-carrying Roman Catholics. tions. We avowed Christians realize God's mighty and merciful deeds. We give thanks (Eucharist) not only in our own name, but in behalf of all creation. We praise God not only for our own lot in life, but also for the blessings bestowed on all of creation and especially on the human family. We strive to live, to speak about, and to incarnate the good news of God's benevolent creation and offer of redemption in every time and place. But it is crucial to remember that the healing of the ten (that is, redemption of the whole) is not primarily dependent on our success. God's healing Spirit blows where it will. Christ's invitation, redemption, and healing touch are not limited by our personal or institutional efforts. In this motif, the kingdom of God is bigger than the church which participates in it and attempts, more and less suc-cessfully, to proclaim it. Whether one equates the kingdom of God with "the church" in its ideal form and uses the same word "church" for those graced but imperfect institutional efforts, or whether one conceives of the kingdom of God as a fuller reality and all institutional churches as more and less successful attempts to embody kingdom or Gospel values, the result seems to be the same. We approach our institutional church--with its papacy, curia, national conferences, January-February 1992 15 generalates, dioceses, parishes, centers, and committee struc-tures- with more realistic and modest expectations. Sin abounds, but grace abounds more. Successes mount up, but so do failures. We have peaks and valleys in our efforts to "do ministry," whether as rugged individuals or as team players. For those who are not intimately bound up with the institu-tional church, these reflections may seem self-evident. But for those of us so imbued with an institutional sense of church, pro-grammed by our own socioethnic heritages and an underlying, intuited, and almost infused Roman Catholic ethos, it may be lib-erating to be confronted by this challenge to broaden our hori-zons, to stretch either our image of church or our sense of ministry to be more kingdom-oriented, less ecclesially confined. As one minister phrased it, "only recently have I been able to proclaim honestly that I cannot save myself. My salvation [and the church's] is only in the gift of God's grace through Christ.''Jz Keep your chin up, your chest out, your personal and com-munal relationships nurtured, your prayer life deepened, and, for God's sake and your own, do not lose your sense of humor. Do not let worries and disappointments about church or parish or com-munity shortcomings dampen your hope. You are not perfect, we are not perfect, they are not perfect--and never will be. So lighten up. Take care of yourself physically, emotionally, intellectually, socially, and spiritually. No use getting "burned out" by unful-filled and unrealistic expectations, personally or ecclesially. "Do not collapse your eschaton." Notes I See, for example, Jerry Edelwich and Archie Brodsky, Burn-Out: Stages of Disillusionment in the Helping Professions (New York: Human Sciences Press, 1980). Recent theological studies into the meaning of genuine Christian love suggest that agape alone, wholly other-centered love, is not only a human impossibility, but most likely a mythical unreality. Not even God, despite treatises to the contrary, is wholly other-centered, sola agape. In the Trinity there seems to be some measure of philia, mutual love one for another, within the Godhead, as well as some degree of eros, personal satisfaction in eternal life and in relationship among each of the divine Persons. Add God's involvement with and seeming delight in creation and we profess a God who is love in all its dimensions--selfless, mutual, and personally fulfilling. The varied literature on ministerial burnout includes a classic text and 16 Review for Religious a new volume: John Sanford, Ministry Burnout (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1982); Robert R. Lutz and Bruce T. Taylor (eds.), Surviving in Ministry (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1990). 2 Herbert J. Freudenberger, Burnout: The High Cost of High Achievement (Garden City: Anchor Press/Doubleday, 1980), p. 13. 3 Bernard Hiiring sadly labels this the curial process of "restoration." For further analysis of these trends and H~ring's insights, see Bernard H~iring, "The Role of the Catholic Moral Theologian," in Charles E. Curran (ed.), Moral Theology: Challenges for the Future (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1990), pp. 32-47; "A Letter to the Pope," Tablet (30 June 1990); "The Church I Want," Tablet (28 July 1990); "Life in the Spirit," Tablet (4 August 1990). 4Avery Dulles SJ, Models of the Church (New York: Doubleday, 1974); A Church to Believe In (New York: Crossroad, 1982). s Vatican II, Lumen Gentium (Dogmatic Constitution on the Church); Gaudium et Spes (Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World). Synod of Bishops, "The Final Report," Origins 15 (19 December 1985): 444-450. The ecclesiology in each of these is discussed in Avery Dulles SJ, '% Half Century of Ecclesiology," Theological Studies 50 (1989): 419-442. 6 The 1990 Lutz/Taylor anthology, Surviving in Ministry (note 1 above), was written primarily for a Protestant audience, indicating that what I have called "workaholic burnout" is a current issue for many mainline Protestant ministers. The book, however, has application for religious, clergy, and especially lay ministers in the Catholic Church, people striving to balance ministerial work with a reasonable home and social life. 7 Dulles, "A Half Century of Ecclesiology," 423-425, 433-434; see also Hans Kiing, Reforming the Church Today: Keeping Hope Alive (New York: Crossroad, 1990). ~ Vatican II, Lumen Gentium (Dogmatic Constinltion on the Church), no. 8. 9Ibid, nos. 14-17. 10 Some more conservative readers might think that I am flirting with heresy. After all, there is an ancient patristic maxim that "outside the church there is no salvation." Seniors and church-history buffs may remember that Boston's Father Leonard Feeney tested the Catholic Church's interpretation of this in the 1940s by asserting that outside the Roman Catholic Church no one could be saved. He suffered excommunication for this ahistorical denominational overreaching of the definition of church, receiving reconciliation only after a nuanced recantation in later life. ** Patrick J. Brennan, Re-Imagining the Parish (New York: Crossroad, 1989), p. 12. 12 W. Benjamin Pratt, "Burnout: A Spiritual Pilgrimage," in Lutz/Taylor, Surviving in Ministry, p. 108. January-February 1992 17 ERIK RIECHERS Vincent Pallotti vs. Polarization o say that we live in a polarized church is to state the painfully obvious. The church is full of some very angry people, and this anger is dividing it into many factions. All around us we find examples of the growing polarization which is sepa-rating brothers and sisters in the Christian community. In our parishes we find different groups struggling for control over the direction of the community. In the dioceses different interest groups push their agenda without concern for the legitimate con-cerns and problems of segments of the local church. On the national and international levels, we can find the same struggle among opposing factions with only an increase in the amount of power and control that is being fought over. To be brief, polar-ization based on anger is a horrible and prevalent reality in our church. We are rapidly becoming people who fight for our ideo-logical causes and, therefore, are filled with an ideological anger towards those who disagree with us. Thus, liberation theologians are angry with classical theologians, classical theologians are angry with conservatives, conservatives are angry with progressives, the youth with the older generation, the laity with the clergy, and the clergy are angry and suspicious of the laity. Finally, there are those who are angry at everybody in the church. Our polarization often comes from anger that stems from ideology and not faith or theology. Ideological anger is based on real pain, be it mental, spiritual, or emotional. But it is an anger justified on ideological grounds. This anger feeds on itself, refuses to seek healing and reconciliation. It enjoys perpetuating itself, Erik Riechers SAC wrote "Love and Apostolate" for our November/ December 1988 issue. His address is 321 90th Avenue S.E.; Calgary, Alberta; Canada T2J 0A1. 18 Review for Religious enjoys no reflective moment. Instead, the knee-jerk reaction becomes the norm of response. Gradually our perception of the issue is clouded, and we replace individuals with neat stereotypes. Finally, we justify our anger by hiding it behind our "cause" and then declaring it righteous, when in fact, by this time, it is often pure hatred based on a gut reaction. Such a polarization, how-ever, has a price tag, and an expensive one at that. The first victim of polarization in the church is our sense of humor. When we are ideologically angry, we are no longer able to laugh at ourselves or with one another. The same humor which used to ease the tensions of our disagreements now adds to them. The foibles and weaknesses that once were laughed at because of their absurdity are no longer funny, for adherents of ideology tend to make no distinction between the allegiance they demand for their cause and that which they claim for themselves. This does not make for easy self-critical observation which is the root of humor. The seriousness which was once preserved for the issue itself is now extended to the proponents, so that not just the cause is on the line, but their very persons are at stake. Honesty is the second victim of polarization based on ideo-logical anger. As our anger grows, our honesty begins to shrivel. The real issues are soon forgotten and fall by the wayside. Personal animosities enter the arena once reserved for the matter at hand, and the issue has become a chance for us to vent our spleens. There is a willingness to see every form of evil in the others, but to ignore or justify the same attributes in ourselves. The best example is the parishioner who bemoans the stubborn-ness of another person in the parish, but describes his or her own intransigence as tenacity in the cause of justice. Sullenly we refuse to acknowledge even the smallest positive sign in the others, yet deem ourselves to be the last bastion of virtue and truth. Here the truth dies an ignominious death. Therefore, it becomes pos-sible for people in the parish to complain that their fellow parish-ioners do not listen to the authority of the pastor, but then refuse to follow the same authority when they themselves disagree with it. On the national church scene, there are some who decry the heavy-handed authority of those in positions of power, yet actu-ally advocate the same methods to further their own cause. In each case, the people who are caught up in the throes of ideo-logical anger have lost the ability to see and recognize the truth. But those who cannot recognize the truth cannot recognize Christ, ~anuary-February 1992 19 Riecbers ¯ Pallotti vs. Polarization the Truth. As a consequence it becomes easy enough to resort to stubbornness and call it fidelity, to savagely attack the integrity of another and call it defending the faith, or to speak with vitriolic cruelty and then label it righteous indignation. Charity is the final victim of our polarization; especially here we pay a heavy price. This is the devastating moment in which brothers and sisters refuse each other table fellowship. Parishioners will not associate with one another, and parish coun-cils replace dialogue with diatribe. Every motive is impugned as we expect the others to be as rotten and nasty as we have made them out to be. No longer is there a willingness to grant the ben-efit of the doubt or to assume the best. Distrust becomes the rule as the grip of our anger slowly squeezes our hearts dry. Yet the bleakness of the picture I have drawn is not a neces-sity and can be overcome. The dreariness of polarization can be lightened with the brilliance of the spiritual life. The polariza-tion of the church we live in can be seen as the result of our sin-ful brokenness, but it can also be seen as a call to a new fidelity. It is our spiritual lives which are suffering most from the atmo-sphere of poisoned debate and mistrust. Recognizing that we have strayed from the path of Jesus Christ, we always have the oppor-tunity to respond anew to the call of the Lord. There are cer-tainly many ways of achieving this, but I would like to suggest the way of a very special man, St. Vincent Pallotti (1795-1850). A man of incredible spiritual stature, he is to this day an effective and powerful teacher of the spiritual life for thousands of members of the Union of the Catholic Apostolate. It is my firm conviction that he has a great deal to offer all of us in the polarized church and that he can point out to us a way of spiritual regeneration. Pallotti's first response to a polarized church is to emphasize the need of putting our focus on God. He is a staunch proponent of such a focus. Repeatedly he calls upon his listeners to channel their energy and effort into God. In one of his most famous prayers, he lists the many things in life that people pursue, but then admonishes us to seek God alone. "Not the intellect, but God. Not the will, but God. Not the heart, but God . Not food and drink, but God .Not worldly goods, but God .God in all and forever." In another passage he writes, "I want nothing but God: nothing, nothing." It is in this God-centeredness that Pallotti offers us an antidote for the self-centeredness which is at the root of all our polarization. When we focus on God and the 20 Review for Religious magnificent work of redemption wrought for our sake, we see our causes and our self-interest for what they truly are: petty and insignificant. The God-centeredness of Pallotti would root us again in the essential mission of Christ and wean us from the pre-occupation with our own agenda. The more we fill our lives with God alone, the less room is left for our own narrow and selfish ideological causes. Pallotti goes on to offer us a second response to polarization in the church by emphasizing the Pauline challenge to become all things to all people. If in the first instance Pallotti prays for a focused heart, in the sec-ond he prays for a responsive heart. As Father Francesco Amoroso, a leading Pallotti scholar, points out, the closer Pallotti draws to God, the closer he draws to his creatures and the greater is his yearning to become responsive to the infinite love to which he has drawn close. "I want to help the poor as well as I can . I want to become food and drink and clothing in order to alleviate their need. I want to be transformed into light for the blind, hearing for the deaf, and health for the sick." In these touching words of prayer, Pallotti shows us the result of a heart aimed at responding to the need of our brothers and sisters, namely, a shattering of the bondage to egotistical and ideological anger. For Pallotti it is per-fectly clear that a heart made responsive by God's infinite love destroys polarization because it is more concerned with the need of the other than with the desire to be successful or right. Pallotti was a man who cherished the communion of the church. He saw our communion as something of an essentially sacred nature because it is rooted in love and built upon that love. Pallotti describes love as the substantial constituent of the church, without which all things decline. Thus, Pallotti challenges us to heed the call to live as church. The church is a communion of brothers and sisters united by their shared life with God and one another in the power of baptism. This shared existence is nour-ished by their participation in the one bread and one cup offered on the one altar of the Lord. They share a common calling in Christ and are led by the same word which calls them to com-munion and demands of them a common sharing in the fate and destiny of one another and of Christ. In God-centeredness Pallotti offers us an antidote for self-centeredness. ~anuary-February 1992 21 Riecbers ¯ Pallotti vs. Polarization We seem to have forgotten that there is no opposition party in the church. Yet we are rapidly losing this understanding of ourselves as church, a loss Pallotti considered intolerable. Instead, we have replaced the image of church as communion with the image of church as parliament. In parliament many parties fight for power, each interested in furthering its cause and hindering the policies of the other parties. Nothing binds individuals together save the desire to be the party in power. In the search for power and the realization of their cause, they constantly belittle, demean, and devalue the efforts and ideas of those they oppose. Above all, a par-liament does not have love as its substantial constituent. Sometimes we seem to have forgotten that there is rio opposition party in the church. We all belong to the community, we are all moving in the same direction. There are no enemies to beat off, only brothers and sisters we must struggle to understand. We belong to the same family, even when we are of dif-fering mind-set. Naturally, this does not deny the possibility of disagreement and differing opinions. Yet, when we disagree or differ, it is as parts of one community that we do so. The force of our differences must be balanced by the strength of our love for one another as brothers and sisters. If getting our own way, winning the argument, or being proven correct becomes more important than preserving our bond of love as community, then we no longer heed the call of Christ. Pallotti was a man of great humility, always struggling to rec-ognize the reality of his life as a sinner who was redeemed by infinite love. This too is part of Pallotti's challenge to us today: to heed the call to live in humility and reconciliation. Humility means that we are rooted in reality, that we perceive reality as it is and not as we would have it. Upon recognizing our reality we abandon exaggerated self-assertion, give up self-righteousness, allow the truth of our sinfulness to stand before our eyes, and we rid ourselves of the illusions of our grandeur, power, and perfec-tion. Only in humility do we find the ability to serve God and neighbor because it is in humility that we see them both as they truly are. Reconciliation becomes possible because we recognize both grace and sin in ourselves and in others. We can be a peo-ple that lives mutual complementarity in the Body of Christ 22 Review for Religious because with the clarity of humility we can acknowledge the charisms in the other members of the church, even if they should not agree with us in every question. Like Pallotti, we are in good shape when despite our differences we realize that we would be impoverished without the gifts and talents of the others. Finally, Pallotti can offer us the simple lesson of humor. If we possess humility, we can laugh at our vanity and pride. The positions we once defended with such venom remain important, but our actions often look as foolish as they actually were. The sweeping generalizations made in the heat of angry debate sud-denly bring a sheepish smile to our lips and a somewhat rueful laugh from our hearts. Thomas More put it well when he prayed for a sense of humor and the grace to understand a joke so that he would know a bit of joy in this life and pass it on to others. That gift of humor is very much a part of our calling, and it is a criti-cal part of the healing needed in a polarized church. For when we are able to laugh at ourselves and one another, we are able to leave behind the anger and the pain and to invest our energy, dedication, and commitment in the only cause that really mat-ters, the kingdom of God. Pallotti's sense of humor is not often described since the hagiographers had other interests in mind when writing about him. But there are subtle hints of a gentle humor in the man, and there is no doubt in my mind that his humor helped him to overcome the many daunting obstacles he faced in his lifetime. For, if Pallotti did not have a sense of humor, we would be hard pressed to explain the gentleness, patience, and kindness which marked his entire ministry and life. Martin Luther King Jr. once spoke with eloquence of his dream of a world without social injustice and racial hatred. Pallotti too had a dream of a new reality, a dream he called many to share with him. We dream of a church which has been swept clean of polarization and ideological anger by the refreshing wind of the Holy Spirit. We dream of a church of mutual complementarity where the ordained and the laity cooperate rather than compete; where young and old are fulfilled rather than frightened by each other; where women and men complement rather than contra-dict each other; where diversity does not mean division and learn-ing can replace lambasting. We dream of a church where the pure waters of coresponsibility will extinguish the burning flames of power, domination, and polarization. .~anuary-February 1992 23 DENNIS J. BILLY The Ecumenical Kernel call for Christian unity an authentic and wide enough theological basis for diverse doctrinal and moral opinion. Such a finding can be arrived at only through a close examination of the various assumptions of that call, not the least of which concerns the very meaning of the term "oneness" itself. This, in turn, must be inte-grated with the whole of theology and in such a way that the integrity of each of the Christian traditions is maintained. The Theological Basis of Ecumenism Theologically the call to Christian unity can be traced to a number of well-known New Testament texts. Jesus' priestly prayer for solidarity among those who believe (Jn 17:21), Paul's chal-lenging description of the oneness of those baptized in Christ (Ga 3:27-28), and the eloquent call to unity in faith, baptism, and Spirit expressed by the author of Ephesians (4:4-5) are but a few of the many texts which come to mind (for example, Jn 14:20, Ac 4:32, Rin 10:12, 1 Co 12:13, Col 3:11, Heb 6:12). When taken together with Irenaeus's understanding of the church's unity of faith in both heart and soul (Adversus haereses, 1.10.2), Cyprian's notion of the unity of the church as the source of salvation (De ecdesiae unitate, 6), and Nicea's definition of the signs of the church Dennis Billy CSSR, who has often contributed to our pages, continues to reside at Accademia Mfonsiana; Via Merulana, 31; C.P. 2458; 00100 Roma, Italy. 24 Review for Religious as "one, holy, catholic, and apostolic" (italics mine), these texts support the classical theological claim of the church's indivisible nature. Such evidence, however, must not be taken at face value. Beneath it lies the question why the call for unity holds such a prominent place in the texts of Christian antiquity. Do these texts portray a historical reality or a theologized hope? Do they reveal a concrete picture of the ecclesial circumstances of their times? Or do they point instead to the discouraging and often embarrassing experience of disunity within the ranks of the early church com-munities? This latter possibility seems more than likely. To sup-port this claim, one need merely point to the first-century tensions between Jewish and Gentile Christians over the need to adhere to the letter of the Mosaic law (see Acts 15), or to the Gnostic threat within the early-second-century church of Antioch which led Ignatius to see the value of a strong monarchical episcopacy, or to the third-century controversy between Carthage and Rome over the rebaptism of the lapsed, or even to the hostile division between Catholic and Arian camps in the pre-Nicene church of the early fourth century. It must also be remembered that so-called hereti-cal ideas often develop within existing ecclesial structures and are labeled as such only when circumstances push the church's teach-ing authority to articulate for its members a more precise theo-logical doctrine. In this respect, heterodoxy occasions the historical context within which orthodoxy struggles continually to refine itself. This relation of codependence in the history of Christian thought needs much further study and clarification. It comes as no small surprise, then, that one of the greatest feats of the Second Vatican Council was its dogged attempt to invert the historical dynamics of ecumenical relations from neg-ative contrariety (that is, heterodox/orthodox codependence) to cooperative dialogue. While acknowledging that the one church of Christ subsists visibly in the Catholic Church (Lume~ Gentium, 8), the council fathers recognized varying degrees of incorpora-tion into Christ's Body and, for the first time ever, the existence of other churches or ecclesiastical communities (Lumen Gemium, 14-16). They also called for the restraint of prejudicial attitudes, dialogue between competent experts, more cooperation in work-ing for the good of humanity, prayer undertaken in common, and the ongoing task of renewal and reform (Unitatis Redintegratio, 4). The intention of these challenging doctrinal innovations was January-February 1992 25 Billy ¯ Ecumenical Kernel to foster within ecumenical relations: (1) a conciliatory attitude towards the divisions of the past, (2) a realistic attitude towards the possibilities of the present, and (3) a hopeful attitude for the future. The immediate result has been more than two decades of intense dialogue between the Catholic Church and virtually every major Christian denomination and non-Christian religion. The Meaning of Christian Unity From these discussions a number of questions about the nature of Christian unity have arisen. Is the sought-after unity something which exists in the transcendent, other-worldly dimen-sion of Christ's Mystical Body? Is it to have visible expressions in the world in which we live? Must these expressions be of a structural or institutional nature? Are these expressions neces-sary to the nature of the church? Is an absolute uniformity of doctrine and morals essential to the rule of faith? Is it something that people can and should experience in the concrete expres-sions of their daily lives? Is greater cooperation in social-justice issues enough? Is it sufficient for the Christian churches simply to agree to disagree? If so, then in what does the distinctive Christian witness to the world consist? Since the answers to these and sim-ilar questions vary as much as the theological starting points of the numerous denominations involved, it is no small wonder that, on almost every front, ecumenical dialogue is slowly moving towards (and, in some cases, has already arrived at) a discouraging and uneasy state of theological deadlock. What is the worth of present attempts to break through this apparent confessional impasse? Is the standstill itself a sign that the ecumenical process has been moving in the wrong direction? The latter seems worthy of exploration. Rather than being thought of as mutually exclusive, perhaps the relational models of negative contrariety and cooperative dialogue can be juxtaposed--held in tension, if you will--in such a way as to enable the churches to understand the meaning of Christian unity in more dynamic and creative terms. Perhaps the Catholic Church needs to examine its tradition of dependence on the classical Protestant theologies (that is, Lutheranism, Anglicanism, Calvinism) as a means of refin-ing its insights into the richness of its own theological tradition. The various Protestant denominations, in turn, should do the same with Catholic theology and perhaps even with each other. 26 Review for Religious The point being made here is that a theological concept can be fully appreciated and understood only in relationship to those ideas it was originally meant to negate. The history of Catholic dogma, in other words, should be written in the context of its own "antihistory," that is, in relation to those who, ultimately, could not accept the consequences of its teaching. But how is this to be done? How is a balance between ecu-menical relations based on negative contrariety and cooperative dialogue to be maintained? Are they not mutually exclusive? Do they not stand in open contradiction to one another? How could they ever be reconciled? Plato's description of justice as well-tem-pered harmony of contrary forces (Republic, IV, 443) proves an invaluable guide in this respect. Unlike Aristotle's rather static rendering of virtue as the mean between the extremes of excess and deficiency (Ethics, 2.6), Plato's understanding allows for a dynamic yet creative interplay of wild and unwieldy forces. True, mistakes will be made from time to time: one horse may over-power the resistance of the charioteer, resulting in his loss of bal-ance and eventual fall. But with the perfection of the skill comes a mastery of these contrary forces; movement is eventually achieved with ease and grace. The point here is that, rather than struggling to reach a theological middle ground acceptable to all concerned, those working for Christian unity should be more involved in trying to help people acquire the skill of dialoguing in the midst of intense confessional conflict. In doing so, future ecu-menical efforts will be less threatened by those in the churches who, somewhere along the way, have let themselves be swayed by one or the other extreme. The Ecumenical Kernel From what has been said thus far, the fundamental principle of ecumenical theology (the ecumenical kernel) may be described as an acquired interior disposition of individual Christians and believing church communities who, seeking to understand the historical and theological significance of their oven religious tra-ditions, maintain an ongoing, balanced relationship of negative contrariety and cooperative dialogue with traditions (both Christian and non-Christian; secular and nonsecular) other than their own. The goal of these relationships is to increase, on both personal and communal levels, a deeper appreci.ation of the mutual January-February 1992 27 Billy ¯ Ecumenical Ke~ ,~,,,~ dependence these traditions share in the historical dimensions of space and time. They are to determine as far as possible the extent to which their stated differences prevent them from remaining true to the most basic tenets of their respective faith traditions. Given the above formulation of the ecumenical kernel, a num-ber of observations arise: 1. As "an acquired interior disposition," the principle resides within individual members of the believing faith community. This habitual attitude of mind looks upon other faith traditions not as a threat, but as a challenge to question and, hopefully, to grow in the knowledge and love of one's own tradition. Acquired by human cooperation with the intricate working of God's grace, it repre-sents a level of maturity which cannot be presupposed for all members of a particular tradition. The principle must be thought of as existing in varying degrees among the members of the faith community. Numerous internal tensions are likely and are to be expected. 2. The principle contains an important social dimension. The above-mentioned interior disposition of mind is not confined to private piety, but is oriented, by its very nature, towards being shared with others and towards growth within groups--often across denominational boundaries--for the purpose of achieving its stated relational goals. A person's own interior disposition of mind is strengthened by the growth of this attitude within his or her community. The more this disposition grows in its social ori-entation, the more it will affect the doctrinal outcome of ecu-menical relations among the churches. 3. The principle asserts that the Christian search for self-understanding must be carried out in the context of the relation-ship a particular faith tradition has to those traditions outside of its official confines and which the thrust of its doctrine was orig-inally intended to negate. This "knowledge by negation" forces the believer to delve ever more deeply to the roots of his or her own theological tradition and to try to determine the precise histori-cal basis of church doctrinal statements. 4. From a doctrinal perspective, precedents for the theolog-ical balancing Of opposing extremes are found in both the classi-cal trinitarian doctrine established in the fourth- and fifth-century councils (that is, three Persons in one God) and in the way the divinity and humanity of Christ were balanced in the definition of Chalcedon (451). In each instance the orthodox position emerges 28 Review for Religious only in contrast to certain teachings encountered within the ranks of the church which the authorities ultimately sought to negate (that is, Arianism, Nestorianism, Monophysitism). In such a way the principle challenges the church to adapt its classical theolog-ical approach of balancing opposing extremes to the pressing ecu-menical concerns of the present. 5. The balancing of the relationships of negative contrariety and cooperative dialogue also points to the capacity of an individual or group to maintain a steadfast internal equilibrium between two very different ways of dealing with the lack of religious unity in their lives (that is, polemics and irenics). Rather than seeking to compromise or to water down one doctrine with the other, the aim here is to develop within believers suffi-cient latitude of mind not only to chal-lenge and confront, but also to see the intrinsic worth of faith traditions other than their own. By helping believers to recognize the extent to which their own tradition is dependent upon and has, in fact, been enriched by various opposing ones, these relationships should evoke a unity of respect that will go a long way in the pursuit of further ecumenical exchanges. 6. Since various religious and secular traditions are likely to be involved, the extent and scope of these relationships will vary from place to place, even within local churches of the same tra-dition. Stronger and more fruitful relationships of negative con-trariety will exist between those traditions sharing a long history of doctrinal controversy. Relationships of cooperative dialogue are constrained only by the limits of constructive theological reflection and exchange. Since each tradition will obviously look within itself for its measure of orthodoxy, progress in ecumenical relations is to be measured not so much in terms of a movement towards doctrinal uniformity as in the mutual commitment of each tradition to keeping the balanced relationship of negative contrariety and cooperative dialogue alive. 7. The goal of appreciating the mutual dependence of con-flicting religious traditions challenges the members of each com- Other faith traditions are not a threat, but a challenge to question and, hopefully, to grow in the knowledge and love of one's own tradition. January-February 1992 29 B~I~ ¯ Ecumenical Kernel munity to take the risk of letting go, if ever so briefly, of some of the most precious presuppositions of their faith. They do this, on the one hand, in order to look at their own tradition from outside its own self-limiting confines and, on the other hand, to experience the conflicting tradition from within its own framework of hermeneutical preconceptions. The result should be an inter-pretative turn back to their own tradition with eyes opened anew to both the strengths and weaknesses of their most basic doctri-nal positions. 8. From this deeper appreciation of mutual dependence, there arises a concern over the extent to which the differences now articulated between each opposing tradition prevent them from remaining faithful to even more basic tenets of their faith which each tradition may very well share with the other. The stated goal is and must always remain a person's faithfulness to his or her own theological tradition. Disagreement between mutually depen-dent religious traditions is to be expected and cannot be over-come in all instances. VC-hat is more important is (1) that these mutually dependent religious traditions support each other in the beliefs and values which they share and (2) that they remain com-mitted to maintaining an open relationship of contrariety, one which will insure that each will continue to refine its own positions and grow in a deeper understanding of their final consequences. These observations do not exhaust the richness of the fun-damental principle of ecumenical theology as set forth in this essay. They seek merely to draw out some of the implications of the principle and to provide a context within which the current efforts of ecumenism may be renewed. Religious have an impor-tant role to play in such a renewal. Religious and Ecumenism Characterized by a communal lifestyle dedicated to the evan-gelical counsels, the religious life provides an environment that can foster the interior disposition of the heart and mind needed to maintain a balanced relationship of negative contrariety and cooperative dialogue. In their vow of poverty, religious seek to empty themselves not merely of an inordinate attachment to material goods, but even of those immaterial attachments of the mind and heart that may get in the way of their service of the Lord. In an ecumenical context, 30 Review for Religious this would mean a willingness to hold one's own theological opin-ions "in check" so as to cooperate with other faith traditions with a view towards experiencing them for their own intrinsic worth. Such an interior disposition should culminate in a deeper aware-ness of the various strengths and weaknesses of one's own theo-logical perspective. In their vow of obedience, religious choose to accept the will of their superiors as a con-crete sign of God's design for them in their lives. In an ecu-menical context, this would translate into a strong identifi-cation of one's own desire for church unity with the approved ecumenical directives of the Catholic Church. Religious would thus stand as staunch defenders of their church's theological tradition who are able and willing not only to confront other reli-gious traditions with challeng-ing questions and observations rooted in a sound knowledge of their own faith, but also to The risk of letting go of some of the most precious presuppositions of their faith to look at their own tradition from outside its self-limiting confines should open one's eyes anew to both the strengths and weaknesses of their most basic doctrinal positions. refine their own theological positions in the light of challenges and observations received from without. In their vow of chastity, religious forgo the goods of marriage in order to give witness to the existence of a life beyond the con-fines of the present earthly reality. In an ecumenical context, this translates into a constant reminder to the various proponents of church unity that the ultimate source of that unity cannot be human efforts alone, but is the trinitarian harmony of "unity in plurality" within the life of the Godhead itself. Religious thus urge their fellow Christians to be aware of the eschatological dimensions of their struggle for church unity. God's kingdom, in other words, is established on earth only to the extent that the oneness and peace found in the divinity's inner life manifests itself (1) within the communal assemblies of the faithful and (2) in the human society where these faithful assemblies gather. January-February 1992 31 Billy ¯ Ecumenical Kernel Even more important than the above considerations is the fact that the religious life asks its members to strive constantly towards achieving in many areas of their lives a delicate balance of opposing extremes, for example, action/contemplation; personal needs/community life; the ideals of the evangelical counsels/the experience of human weakness and the tendency to sin. Such a life of balanced extremes should make the balance of negative contrariety and cooperative dialogue spoken of in this essay that much easier to incorporate within one's own spirituality and approach to life. This is not to say that a similar balance cannot be developed in other states of life within the church (for exam-ple, single, married, priestly lives), but only that the religious life is especially suited to it. To be sure, the eschatological orientation of the vows themselves moves the religious to maintain a contin-ually balanced perspective between life in the present and in the beyond. Realized eschatology refers not to a collapse of the latter into the former, but to the balanced and simultaneous movement of each, bringing the Christian to his or her ultimate end in God. Conclusion This essay deals with the present deadlock in ecumenical progress by reexamining some of the basic premises of the dis-cussion and by suggesting a redirection of many current efforts for Christian unity. As put forth in these pages, the fundamental prin-ciple of ecumenical theology (the ecumenical kernel) calls for the balancing of the opposing extremes of negative contrariety and cooperative dialogue. While the former refers to the relationship of heterodox/orthodox codependence prevalent in the early church and in the Catholic Church's relation with dissident Christian traditions down through the centuries, the latter represents the more conciliatory, irenic approach employed since the time of the Second Vatican Council. The essay argues that the movement towards Christian unity lies not so much in a calculated agenda for doctrinal uniformity as in the commitment among the churches to maintain the balanced relationship of negative contrariety and cooperative dialogue. The bonds resulting from such a relation-ship of opposing extremes give rise to a healthy respect for tra-ditions other than one's own and to a deeper consciousness of the mutual dependence which so many traditions share but so sel-dom advert to. 32 Review for Religious Religious can play an important role in maintaining this bal-ance of opposing extremes. Their commitment to the vows pro-vides them with a deep spiritual basis from which they can develop the necessary internal disposition of mind and heart required for the principle to take effect. Since their way of life already asks them to sustain a similar balance of opposing extremes in many areas of their lives, they give witness, on the one hand, to those who believe it cannot be done and set an example, on the other hand, for those seeking to embody the principle in their own lives. The faithful dedication of religious to their calling not only serves as a leaven for themselves and others (both within and without the Catholic tradition), but also can make those who are deaf to the call for church unity sit up and take notice. Religious should be in the forefront of the church's attempt to maintain with other religious traditions a balanced relationship of nega-tive contrariety and cooperative dialogue. In sum, then, the fundamental principle of ecumenical theol-ogy (the ecumenical kernel) states that church unity involves a pro-cess of committed encounter between religious traditions whose very existence implies a relationship of concrete mutual depen-dence. The goal of ecumenical theology is to highlight this rela-tionship and thus provide, for all concerned, a deeper understanding of the issues which unite and separate them. Since such under-standing will take place only in the context of the above-mentioned balance of opposing extremes, it would seem that the churches have much to do before the long-yearned-for unity "in faith and morals" becomes a reality for future Christian generations. January-February 1992 33 JAMES M. KEEGAN Elements and Dynamics of a Spiritual-Direction Practicum direction and discernment the West Coast to talk about their common concerns in training spiritual directors, has discovered itself large enough to form a separate East Coast "symposium." In the years of religious discovery after Vatican II, a num-ber of institutions in North America established them-selves as centers for the training or development of spiritual directors. This sudden evolution, or fission, into dozens of programs is startling. It seems the training of spiritual directors, almost without being noticed, is becom-ing a significant commitment of church-related institu-tions. While the methods and goals of these ventures are as diverse as the people who manage them, there is a signifi-cant difference between practicum programs and those which do not involve such an element. Even among practicums the variety of ways and means can be dizzy-ing. To stimulate and encourage those engaged in the adventure of developing spiritual directors--or thinking James M. Keegan sJ has been involved in the training of spir-itual directors for a dozen years, first in New England and now in Kentucky. His present work is in the Spirituality Office of the Archdiocese of Louisville: Flaget Center; 1935 Lewiston Place; Louisville, Kentucky 40216. 34 Review for Religious about it--this article will describe some of the facets of a suc-cessful practicum and then present two important issues which seem inevitably to arise in this kind of work. The Need for Practicums At the center of its pedagogy, a practicum program includes the actual doing of spiritual direction with directees over a period of time, plus staff supervision of that work. Under this definition falls a wide variety of actual plans, courses, and organizations ranging from year-long full-time programs to part-time one-to-four- year courses, as well as those shorter arrangements designed for one to four months which may include individually directed retreats as the practicum element. The abundance of programs answers a new demand for spir-itual directors, a demand arising from a felt need as well as from the increased visibility of spiritual direction as an attractive, pos-sibly even faddish, discovery in the current atmosphere of the churches. Increasingly, professional ministers are recognizing their spiritual hunger and lack of regular nourishment in the central relationship of their lives and opting to do something about it beyond an annual retreat. Furthermore, as lay men and women are encouraged and educated to claim their particular gifts of min-istry, many are realizing the concomitant need for stronger spir-itual grounding. So they seek out competent spiritual directors. The quality of training which those directors receive seems of paramount importance if they are to be accurately helpful to these men and women, as well as accountable for what they do. While a reading knowledge of spiritual direction or an understanding of some of its theoretical schemata can be important in preparing one to do the work and especially in reflecting on it later, such an approach without the practical element of working with individ-uals can be counterproductive and even dangerous. The theories of spiritual life that one reads have been developed from many an individual case over long periods of trial and error. They acknowledge, of course, the rough edges and ambiguities one meets when face-to-face with a directee, but they cannot predict how any one of us will react in that circumstance. For instance, one can understand that change and development in prayer are often signaled by inner darkness, and yet have no idea how to understand and respond to a directee's yearning pain. One may January-February 1992 35 Keegan ¯ Spiritual-Direction Practicum have theories about the termination of spiritual direction, but be completely thrown when a particular directee wants to quit. A program involving a supervised practicum should be considered a sine qua non at some point in the development of a qualified spiritual director. Those who run successful programs usually have articulated their beliefs and pedagogy in a model of spiritual direction which they attempt to impart to the participants. For some, the heart of the model is conversion; for others, religious experience or the incorporation of social awareness into one's life and prayer. The strength of the practicum, however, comes not from a model of spiritual direction, but from the experience of God at work in the directee, the director, and the supervisor--and from their suc-cesses and mistakes. If it is genuinely at the service of its partic-ipants' experience of God, a successful practicum program is a continuous test of the model upon which it based. Change and development in spiritual life may look quite different from what is expected; God's action may outfox the supervisor as well as the director and demand that the staff reflect critically upon its assumptions in the light of its experience. Elements of a Practicum A practicum is composed of a staff and the participants. "Staff" here means supervisory staff, even though other staff persons may be vital to the functioning of the program. The staff oversees the participants in at least six basic and essential elements. 1. Active engagement in the work of spiritual direction. Nothing substitutes for each participant's seeing several directees on a reg-ular basis if the core of learning is to be the recognition of God's action in another's life. Other elements of the program are more or less useful as they help participants become better at recog-nizing and facilitating another person's relationship with God. Directees most often come through the sponsoring organization, with staff members conducting a first interview to determine their readiness for spiritual direction. In other instances, participants in the program bring their own directees. In any case the staff should determine its role in the admission of directees so as to insure that these persons' real needs may be met and that the practicum's participants may best learn from their experience. Their work with a number of directees regularly over an 36 Review for Religious extended period of time provides them with learning that cannot be acquired in briefer time or with only one or two individuals. They may learn from dealing with the slow development of one person's contemplative ability, or with people at different stages of spiritual life or in different socioeconomic conditions, or with various dynamics of change in people's relationship with God. Whereas some beginning directees may already be at home in their inner lives, others will need patient help in discovering an inner landscape, noticing and then articulating interior events, and continuing to pray when things get dark. The way in which such variety challenges or affirms assumptions that the partici-pants have provides an invaluable arena for their formation as spiritual directors. 2. Regular supervision of actual cases. Confidential supervision using verbatim reports (or taped interviews) is the central learn-ing arena. Supervision begins when the participant prepares a detailed ("verbatim") report of what actually occurred in a par-ticular spiritual-direction session, and is furthered in the encounter with a staff supervisor. The focus is on exploring the participant's responses and reactions rather than on diagnosing the directee, and the goal is twofold: assuring the welfare of the directee and promoting the personal and professional integration of the par-ticipant, the fledgling director. Many programs include group supervision to provide insight that may not come from a single supervisor, and to encourage participants in the program to think in a supervisory manner. Learning through supervision to reflect on the particulars of their work with a directee, participants can become aware of their particular strengths and weaknesses as spiritual directors. Rather than simply offering tools or techniques for the work, a super-vised practicum can help directors to discover their own distinc-tive style and abilities, taking as their goal the development of the person of the spiritual director as a director. Supervision helps to develop a discriminating mind-set, a love for criticism, and the healthy skepticism about one's own work which allows God to be the creative one in the lives of directees. 3. Regular personal spiritual direction. It is clear that one of the greatest helps or hindrances to growth in a practicum program is the participant's personal experience of receiving spiritual direc-tion. We shall see in the final section of this article that partici-pants' personal lives and prayer may hit rocky ground in the January-February 1992 37 Keegan ¯ Spiritual-Direction Practicum course of this kind of program, and personal issues may cloud their ability to learn. At least during the practicum, participants should be encouraged to receive direction from directors whose practice is known by the staff to be based on principles similar to those being taught. Furthermore, without an experiential awareness of those principles active in their own life, participants may well find the focus of a particular program either intellectu-ally confusing or, worse, negligible. 4. Study: Courses, Workshops, Reading. A tragic flaw in many practicums is the attempt to accomplish so much that the essen-tials are lost; more material is covered at the expense of contem-plative depth and reflection on the work. No staff wants to certify ignorant or uninformed directors, but the body of knowledge with which a good spiritual director should be familiar is growing so rapidly that it could ease an experiential pedagogy into sec-ond place. Each staff will have to determine for itself how much time and energy should be given to at least these four areas: the-ology (Scripture study, Christology, moral theology), psychology (developmental theory, study of the unconscious, diagnostic cat-egories), spirituality (history, traditions of prayer and discern-ment), and culture (religiopolitical history, issues of social justice). Some will set certain prerequisites for entrance into their pro-grams while others will encourage concurrent workshops, courses, and reading. A rule of thumb might be that academic work in a practicum should illumine the participants' experience of doing spiritual direction and whet their appetite for further investigation rather than just provide familiarity with a broad range of material on spirituality. 5. Reflection. Development of spiritual directors demands con-templative time for participants to remember, think and pray about, and otherwise mull over with their directees. Reflection is a value that needs to be built into the program, or competing forces will eat it away. It is possible to design a course whose aca-demic elements unite around and illuminate the participants' experience doing the work of direction. While the goal of a grad-uate program might be the students' command of the history of spirituality and the works of its major authors, a practicum seeks to help its participants understand their experience in the light of the tradition. Reading assignments, for instance, will be differ-ent than in academic programs: participants may be asked to famil-iarize themselves with the cultural background of a spiritual classic 38 Review for Religious and then read only a few pages of the actual work, imagining the experience described, comparing it with what they have seen, noticing their reactions to it. Questions like the following might be pursued after a reading of the first three chapters of the Life of Teresa of Avila: What do you understand (or not) of her expe-rience of God? Have you seen anything like it in any of your directees? How is it different? What do you make of the cultural influences on Teresa? on your directee? What is God like for these people? Where does Teresa's experi-ence lead? your directee's? Some programs provide retreat week-ends for their participants, or other kinds of shared prayer. Journaling can be built into group time, along with some sharing of that journaling with the group. Finally, the staff's reflective lifestyle, or its absence, speaks most loudly of the values inherent in any program. 6. Evaluation. However it may make us cringe, a supervisory program is inescapably evaluative. Supervision, as described here, is a means of critical self-evaluation. Further, if participants are progressing toward some kind of certification, clear develop-mental criteria must be communicated and maintained. It is essen-tial that the staff have understood these criteria uniformly and agreed upon them and that it apply them equitably. Furthermore, the staff needs to talk at length with one another about their atti-tudes toward evaluation, both of participants' performance and of their own. The more clearly the staff understands the foundational phi-losophy and pedagogy of the program, the more clearly it will communicate the goals and objectives of each term or semester, and the more helpful the evaluations will be for those in the pro-gram. If, for instance, a goal of the first segment is a demon-strated ability to listen to a directee with empathy, acceptance, and genuineness, both the staff and those being evaluated would have to understand and recognize the working definitions of those terms and agree on their place in the work of spiritual direction. A positive evaluation would encourage participants by helping them to own their strengths and successes and would challenge them with specific directions for growth in the next segment of the Reflection is a value that needs to be built into the program, or competing forces will eat it away. ~anuary-Felrruary 1992 39 Keegan ¯ Spiritual-Direction Practicum work. In deciding what constitutes a negative evaluation, how-ever, and what the next steps should be, a staff may run into ques-tions and disagreements rooted in the subjective nature of much of their work, and will need to fall back on their previous inter-action and their togetherness as a team. Evaluation is also a means by which a program can measure its own success in the short term. If the learning goals for each term or semester are not achieved by participants in a demon-strable way, evaluation time 1nay signal a need to rethink parts of the program. 7. Summary. As described here, a practicum program focuses its energies and its various elements on the concrete work of spir-itual direction and on its supervision for learning purposes. Study, reflection, group process, even individuals' own prayer and spir-itual direction are variously related to what happens when the participants engage with a directee. The supervisory staff need a shared understanding and experience of the basic elements of such engagement which they want to develop in those who come to them for training. Because the heart of the practicum is the meeting of persons--the directee, the director, and the supervi-sor, all carrying their own inner wounds and scars, and the supremely free person of God--the entire endeavor stands on precarious ground. The following section will discuss two events which, unlike earthquakes, may be predictable. Some Dynamics of a Supervisory Program. Although a practicum is a clinic for ministerial development, personal as well as clinical issues will inevitably arise among the participants and call for attention. V~hen strongly felt psycho-logical and spiritual change begins to happen to individuals in a group, the forces at play can be simultaneously shrill and very subtle, and a staff ought to be prepared to listen beneath the noise lest their program be derailed. Below I will discuss two issues, a personal issue which often has profound impact on the practicum as a whole and a clinical one which arises from the nature of a practicum. First, if the program presents a refined focus or a particular understanding of the nature of prayer or spirituality, it will prob-ably confront to some degree the spiritual lives of those enrolled in it. People will be challenged to confirm their own experience 40 Review for Religious anew, to look into it more deeply than before, or to criticize and possibly jettison their old assumptions about God, prayer, and spiritual life. They may expose the inadequacy of former spiri-tual directors or may encounter their need for counseling or ther-apy; anger may arise and get directed at staff, peers, friends, or directees. Because of new material about spiritual life or new experience of it, the participants themselves begin to change--some-times radically. This is usually an important and welcome development, signaling real engagement in the pro-gram. However, such personal expe-rience can be so strong and so generally felt that, unless a staff expects and understands it, the oper-ative goal of the program can subtly shift from ministerial to personal growth. A practicum can subtly change into a personal-growth rather than a ministerial endeavor if the staff does not keep the emphasis on the work to A practicum can subtly change into a personal-growth rather than a ministerial endeavor if the staff does not keep the emphasis on the work to be done. be done, always conscious of helping the participants to bring their personal growth to bear on their work with directees. Here the staff itself may well need supervision. Elements of the program can be imperceptibly skewed away from the ministerial issues cen-tral to it. Because the person of the director is the focus of super-vision, for instance, supervisory sessions may subtly become therapeutic rather than clinical and professional. If participants are consistently asked to consult their own experience of life or prayer in reflecting on their work, they may not develop the ability to remember and look critically at other people's experience, which will inevitably offer them a wider and more surprising range. Material can be presented in a way that favors the participants' personal application of it and neglects the further step of apply-ing what they have learned to what they have seen in their directees. Since participants often experience the "personal-conversion phenomenon," it can become a group issue which may be best addressed if there is in place some group function where they are encouraged to talk with one another about what is happening to January-February 1992 41 Keegan ¯ Spiritual-Direction Practicum them personally. Further, the staff may need to be flexible enough to modify the syllabus or calendar, to adjust the presentation of material to the ability of individuals in the group to hear and absorb it. The second issue I intend to discuss, for which I borrow the term "narcissistic crisis,''l occurs in some form in most clinical programs and is complicated by the highly personal and value-laden religious material of spiritual direction. People tend to enter such programs with some infection from the cultural stereotype of the spiritual director as wise, holy, and powerful. Whether they measure themselves positively or negatively against this icon and its expectations, participants very often exhibit regressive behav-ior when a supervisor starts to look at the details of their work. Initial confidence or self-doubt may turn into their opposites when otherwise successful and competent people find themselves scrutinized as they assume their new roles. For our purposes it is important to notice that (1) participants may extraordinarily and unrealistically accept or challenge the foundational elements and philosophy of the program; (2) this is an expectable and wel-come development, rather than something to be avoided, and demands staff understanding, unity, and participation; and (3) this "narcissistic crisis" is primarily an individual issue (in that it will configure itself quite differently in each person's experience), but it can easily--and erroneously--be generalized into a broader dis-satisfaction with the program when it catches similar issues in other participants. The resistance of this phase of practicum training often sounds like rebellion or despair: "I have heard all this before." "I am never going to do this right." "There are lots of ways of doing spiritual direction that you're not giving us." "Tell me what I should have said to this directee." At heart these are often state-ments about the personal difficulties individuals are encountering as their self-esteem experiences some dismantling in supervision or in their comparing themselves with more polished perfor-mances from peers or the staff. So the staff must be keen not to mistake them either for genuine criticism or for signs of genuine understanding of the program's foundational elements. This resis-tance, when felt by a group (either the participants or the staff), can swamp and drown gentler voices of moderation and carries within itself strong "we versus them" projections that must be understood and treated as such by the staff lest they polarize the 42 Review for Religious program. Supervisors need to look beneath the manifest behavior to the personal and professional issues that are awakening. Successful negotiation of this "crisis" can be difficult for a staff, testing its team cohesiveness with urges to side with or against certain participants, and its willingness to recognize and respond flexibly to genuine criticism. Supervisors are idealized, identified with, then ignored or renounced--made into idols and then melted down! Erosion of his or her own self-esteem and professional identity can tempt a staff member to clear up a super-visee's anxiety and confusion rather than work with it as appropriate to this stage of learning, or perhaps to respond in anger, or to exaggerate or minimize the real demands of the program. The very survival of the supervisory staff may hinge upon its having done its work in the following two areas. First, a shared understanding of and desire to work with the foundational philosophy and pedagogy of the program is impera-tive and should not be taken for granted. While diversity of background and ideas can enrich a training program, all mem-bers of the staff will need to understand A participant who finds support, challenge, and growing peership in supervision will grow away from dependence on the supervisor and the institution represented in the practicum. the particular goals being sought when the going gets tough. New staffs need to put aside valuable time to discuss and haggle over what they mean by spiritual direction and training directors, and ongoing staffs could profit from a devil's advocate brought con-sciously into their midst. Second, it is of critical importance that the supervisory work of each staff member be open to the others, and in some detail. For the welfare of the program's participants and for the profes-sional development of the staff, the work they do with partici-pants needs itself to be supervised with the same focus on the presenting person as described earlier. They will need to know and trust each other's work when some of the dynamics detailed here begin to operate, or at least to have a forum in which to challenge and change one another. If the goal of a practicum is the integration of supervised January-February 1992 43 Keegan ¯ Spiritual-Direction Practicum learning into one's own personal style of doing spiritual direc-tion, then the participants' success or failure in resolving this cri-sis could be crucial to their development as spiritual directors. If supervisors maintain only a mentor's stance and never allow their own mistakes and biases to be dealt with, or if the program appears inflexible, participants may perceive little room to blend what they have learned into their particular personalities. The result can be either a defensive posture against the program and its goals or a need to maintain one's connection with it in order to feel competent. On the other hand, a participant who finds support, challenge, and growing peership in supervision will grow away from dependence on the supervisor and the institution repre-sented in the practicum. Toward the end of a successful year, for instance, a supervisee said with some force, "I am going to park this whole damn program and get out and walk!" The remark, articulating his desire to integrate his learning with his own stride, would have told quite a different story--and been far less wel-come- at the beginning of the year. At some point any trained spiritual director will have to ques-tion the basic principles of his or her training, experiment with them, and integrate what is of substance into a personal, distinc-tive style of doing spiritual direction. A practicum can impart the skills and qualities needed in a spiritual director. A better practicum can aim to help qualified directors to be themselves in the practice of direction. Conclusion Inasmuch as we are heirs of the Judeo-Christian legacy, spir-itual directors are face-to-face with an extremely delicate task: to facilitate the self-revelation of the incomprehensible God. While we know that anything we assert about this unsearchable God must be taken back immediately as inadequate, human words and gestures are what we have to work with in the place of awed silence. The God who is omnipresent is also most concrete. The unknowable God has chosen to be known and has, in our Scriptures, revealed a personality, desires, and hopes. God has a divine Name and entrusts it to Moses and Israel (Ex 3). God is tender and caring as a mother or a father (Is 43, 49; Ho 11), pas-sionately angry (Am 5), or desperately sad (Jr 14). Able spiritual directors are women and men who have explored and become 44 Review for Religious responsible for their own personalities and have, to some degree, integrated that with the ministry to which they have been called. They can dare to approach the intimate experience of another person and, above all, the Person of God, with humility and expec-tation. Before them is the task of reverencing the mystery while exploring the everyday events in which the mysterious personal-ity of God becomes incarnate, in a sense continuing by that very work the loving thrust of God into even the smallest details of earthly life. Our tradition makes clear that such discernment arises from and is verified in the community of believers. A practicum in spir-itual direction, then, can be more than a training ground. At its best it can be a microcosm of the People of God, an instance of the kind of critical believing community without which we dare not claim to know in our own lives--nor to help others know-- what God is saying here and now. Note ~ See Baird K. Brightman PhD, "Narcissistic Issues in the Training Experience of the Psychotherapist," International Journal of Psychoanalytic Psychotherapy 12 (1983). Narcissism is discussed as a dynamic element in the struggle for psychic growth, involving "a positive libidinal feeling toward the self" or the maintenance of self-esteem in the face of the erosion of one's grandiose professional self and of one's pro-jection of perfection onto others, namely, the staff, the supervisor. Brightman sees a clinical program "as a developmental period of adult-hood with its own characteristic tasks and demands, and therefore the potential for evoking the conflicts, fixations, and defenses of the preced-ing life stages (as well as the potential for further growth)." January-February 1992 45 CHARLES REUTEMANN On Becoming a Discerning Person Through Spiritual Direction hese reflections are a practical commentary on a short passage from the prophet Jeremiah: "More tortuous than all else is the human heart, beyond remedy; who can understand it? I, the Lord, alone probe the mind and test the heart" (Jer 17:9). The image of "journey" as a way of describing day-to-day movement towards self-knowledge, towards intimacy with God, and towards a generous love and service of neighbor has been popular in most ages and many cultures. Among written descrip-tions are The Pilgrim's Progress, The Ascent of Mount Carmel, The Road Less Traveled, the journey into The Interior Castle, and the four-week journey of the Exercises of St. Ignatius. Even the life of Jesus is presented to us as a journey: with Mary and Joseph from Nazareth to Bethlehem; from Bethlehem to Egypt and then back to Nazareth; from Nazareth to other parts of Galilee and to Judea and Samaria; and finally that fatal last journey up to Jerusalem, and then out to the whole world. In particular, the Gospel of Luke-Acts is cast as a splendid journey story. In the Gospel it is like a great bus ride, with Jesus as driver, gathering up all the poor and the outcasts: smelly shepherds, tax collectors, prostitutes, fishermen, cripples, widows, the blind, the possessed-- all are gathered and brought on the journey to that symbolic holy Charles Reutemann FSC is on the staff of the Center for Spirituality and Justice, a training center in the Bronx for spiritual directors. For six-teen years he was director of Sangre de Cristo Renewal Center in Santa Fe, New Mexico. He resides at Manhattan College and his address is 5050 Fieldstone Road; Riverdale, New York 10471. 46 Review for Religious place Jerusalem. Then in Acts there is another bus ride, and the driver is the Holy Spirit sent by Jesus, gathering more outcasts: eunuchs, sailors, tent makers, prison guards, merchants--all on a bus ride leading to Rome, that symbol of the whole world. Life is a journey, and the most engrossing part is the interior journey of our soul. Our soul's journey--what is it like? Is it merely a random alternation of ups and downs, of going forward and falling back, and then more of the same? Or is there a pattern and a meaning to it? One major spiritual tradi-tion sees our journey as a line, a kind of one-direc-tional climbing of a hill with many slippings and risings. Another and perhaps better spiritual tra-dition sees the spiritual journey as a spiral, as something like the liturgical-year cycle in which we keep moving through the seasons, the seasons of the year, the seasons of our life, the seasons of the life of Jesus, ever moving deeper. With Jesus we move through his birth, early years, public life, conflict life, death, and resurrection. As we touch and live through the seasons of Jesus' life, never boring nor repetitious, we live through the sea-sons of our life, a kind of spiral journeying, touching the same places inside us, but never really the same, as we go deeper, ever trying to find the answers to those two great questions of all life: What does it all mean? and what shall I do with my love? No, we never remain the same on our soul journey, even though our days pass one after the other in twenty-four-hour regularity. This is our interior spiritual journey, fascinating and mysterious. Are there things that we notice as we circle slowly about, things that are happening to us, things that move us forward? and other things that seem to block our way? Of course! First of all, one of the things that all of us recognize and that spiritual guides are most attentive to is our freedom. How much inner freedom do we find in us as the years go by: freedom from our compul-sions, addictions, fixed ways of looking at things? And somehow we also recognize that we cannot will our freedom--it is some-thing that happens, like Topsy, or the Velveteen Rabbit. Another thing we may become aware of as we move along, and it is much akin to freedom, is detachment: Are we really beginning to lose our ego, to lose that self-regarding self?. I cannot forget some- Life is a journey, and the most engrossing part is the interior journey of our soul. January-February 1992 47 Reutemann ¯ Becoming a Discerning Person Our prayer shows us what road we are and what direction we are facing on that road. thing I heard many years ago from an English university profes-sor. We were doing a workshop in Dublin, and one day he casu-ally mentioned that he was teaching history to Mother Teresa's novices in a convent outside of London. "Oh," I said, "and what kind of woman is Mother Teresa?" He paused a moment and then slowly said, "She's a woman who has lost her ego." I have never forgotten that. What a marvelous achievement, and what a lifelong process! A third thing we might begin to notice as we move along on our journey is what motivates us. Are we really begin-ning to live more and more by faith, seeing things through Gospel values and truths, gradually find-ing ourselves more like St. Paul when he cries out, "I live! no, not I, but Christ is beginning to live in me"? There may be other signs that we notice about our inner selves: a certain simplicity, a movement towards integrity--but wait a minute! Are we aware of what we have been saying: ing freedom, noticing detachment, noticing living by faith? Now that is something to notice! Is it possible to become a more noticing person? And there we have the magic word, discernment! Noticing is discernment; a noticing heart is a discerning heart. Or is it a discerning head? Or is it both? Let us pause to look at the other expression in our reflection, "spiritual direction." We all need direction, especially if we find ourselves in an unknown land of many roads, like some parts of the Bronx, or downtown Boston, or Jersey City. And the same is true of our interior life, our spirit life. Most of us know exactly what St. Paul is talking about when he exclaims: "I don't know where I'm going. I don't do the good things I want to do; instead, I do the evil I don't want to do. My inner being delights in the law of God; but I am aware of a different law that is at work in me, that fights against the law that my mind approves of. It makes me a prisoner to the law of sin which is at work in me. What an unhappy person I am! Who will rescue me from this road that is taking me to death? Who will show me the way?" (Rm 7:15-24, adapted). Everyone on the spiritual journey of life needs direction, needs some guidance for the spirit. We know there are various maps to help us find this direction: spiritual books and magazines 48 Review for Religqous that we can study and learn by, especially that great map, the Holy Bible, which has directed more people in the whole world than any other--and still does. Another source of direction is our own prayer, our struggle to be quiet and to reflect, our crying out "Give me guidance today, O Lord!" Our prayer shows us what road we are on, and what direction we are facing on that road. And then there is another source, something that has been practiced in all cultures and religions, namely, the conversation between two people about the interior life and its ways. This con-versation is frequently called "spiritual direction." To a woman coming to me for such direction, I once said, as we faced each other in a relaxed setting, "And zvhy do you want spiritual direc-tion?" She was startled, but after a moment's silence she leaned forward and said, "I want to become more real." I was startled by the beauty of her response. Then I said: "And what would it mean for you to become more real?" Again she was thoughtful: "Well, I have this friend whose mother has Alzheimer's disease. Every time I see her when she's walking with her mother, she is smiling." So it is that some people seek spiritual direction, a conversa-tion with another adult about their values and their God, because they have seen something beautiful in another person and they want to be like that. They are challenged to fill up what is want-ing in themselves, to grow, to go deeper, to become more real. Other people, like myself when I first sought direction many years ago, recognize that, although they want God in their lives, they get careless and easily become distracted, even choked, by the anxieties and cares of the world. They need someone to talk with about their desire for God, someone to be accountable to--so that, in the very telling of their stow, they may be strengthened in their resolve and receive clarity about the paths to God. Others seek spiritual direction because they are troubled: there is a crisis in their lives. It may be a relationship, it may be a major decision about a vocational choice, it may be an addiction. But always this crisis is affecting the sense of God in their lives: Does God understand? Where is God? Am I on the right path? More tortuous than all else is the human heart. Where is the direction? They need the Lord to probe their mind and test their heart. For others, things are not all that clear. There is no crisis, but there seems to be something missing. The refrain "Is that all there is?" rings through their lives. They have had no other adult January-February 1992 49 Reutemann ¯ Becoming a Discerning Person with whom they can talk values. And so, finding themselves drift-ing, uncertain, lacking meaning, they seek direction. From all of this, can we now say that we have some sense of what spiritual direction looks like, at least in a Christian setting and in today's world? It is a conversation between two adults in which one is seeking some guidance on the path to God and the meaning of life. It is not idle chatter, nor even problem solving, though it is about the ordinary things of life: communication, liv-ing situation, working conditions, relationships. It takes time, honesty, and a spiritual sense. It is one of the gifts of the Spirit for forming the Christian and the Christian community. Can we say anything about the guide, the spiritual director? Like all guides, it would seem that the guide should have some training, some expertise, and that he or she should also be receiv-ing spiritual direction on the pilgrim road. We would want a knowledgeable person, someone familiar with the inner move-ments of the heart, the roadways, possessing some skills that might avoid pitfalls, especially the skill of listening to where the person wants to go--listening is so important, and it is a listening that goes beyond ideas and words and focuses on feelings and desires. Every pilgrim on the spiritual journey is best known by his or her desires and feelings, and the guide must be attentive to them. The director need not be a holy person, but he or she must be a seeker of God, one who prays regularly and who has a vision of faith. Lastly, the spiritual guide must really have the interests of the pilgrim at heart, and thus must be patient, humble, and under-standing. It is God who gives the increase, it is God who sends down the rain to water the paths. Can we say anything about what a spiritual-direction session would look like? Well, obviously, the directee would come pre-pared, that is, ask herself beforehand: Where has God been in my life since last we met? What have been some of my responses? As 1 reflect, what might I like from this session? Can I say any-thing about my prayer or about something that has struck me? The session itself can last forty-five minutes to an hour, but no longer than that and possibly shorter. When someone begins direction, it is helpful that the meetings be somewhat frequent: each week or every other week. Then, after three or four meet-ings, the space can be lengthened to three or four weeks. And, of course, to get the most benefit, the directee would take time to write down and even pray over what has been noteworthy in the 50 Review for Religious session. Let me illustrate this point. It is rare that I receive letters from my directees, but recently I did receive one that reads in part like this: "Mainly just want to tell you how much I have come to value our sessions. Thanks very much for your interest, atten-tion, and care in helping me to come to know the Lord better in my life. I believe it is also helping me to communicate that kind of experience to others whom I meet in the course of my own work and ministry, my own life. I guess what occasions this, in addition to the gratitude, is that I just wrote up for myself, as I usually do, a little summary of the points that we talked about . And I was surprised to see how wide-ranging it was, and the depth too, and the com-monalities among the points .Certain themes do begin to appear after a time . " Of course, a director or guide prepares too, by prayer, by reflection, and sometimes by written observations that help chart the inner movements on the directee's journey and the basic direction. Let me now say some more about "discernment" and then try to relate it to how spiritual direction ought to be helping us become more discerning persons. Frequently individuals and even whole groups, when faced with a major decision, will say, "You know, I (we) have to discern that"; and then they start some pro-cess to which they give the name "discernment." Is that what dis-cernment is, something we do when we have to make a big decision? Yes and no. I like to call decision making a "choosing" that gets into the will and into the feeling part of me. Of course, as I do that, I need to weigh things before I say yes to what I choose. I also like it when Karl Rahner says, "There are no big decisions; there are only bundles of little decisions." He seems to be suggesting that we are making little choices all along, choices coming from our feelings and our thinking, perhaps more from one than the other. So discernment is something we can practice in those little choices that might eventually get into a bundle for a big choice. And discernment therefore could become some kind of a habit of noticing my feelings and testing their reasonable-ness,~ that is, whether or not they are leading me to my better self and to my God or leading me away, down some primrose path to my ego self. We should try to become a discerning person in the ordinary times and in the little choices, for discernment is 'There are no big decisions; there are only bundles of little decisions.' January-February 1992 51 Reutemann ¯ Becoming a Discerning Person not the kind of thing we can start practicing when we need to make a big decision. When asked "Who is the holy person?" the Lord Buddha answered: "There are sixty minutes to the hour, and sixty seconds to each minute, and sixty fractions of a second to each second. If anyone could be fully present in each fraction of each second, that person would be a holy person." Awareness leading to rightmindedness. Noticing, testing, leading to choice. For most of us, growth in self-knowledge occurs when we take more notice of our feelings and name them. For, although we may be deeply feeling people, most of our conscious life is taken up with thought: making observations, giving our opinions, try-ing to figure out what we are to do. But does this get down to the deeper self, the desiring self, the hoping and choosing self?. Spiritual directors need to assess this so that they come to see the necessity of helping directees uncover feelings and name them. But it is equally necessary that people test with their heads the inner reasonableness of their feelings: W~here are they coming from? Are they leading to or away from God? Can we conclude then that in discernment it would be a mis-take to separate our feelings from our knowledge-insight? that it would be a mistake to consider our feelings as better criteria for discernment and decision making? and, finally, that we make a mistake when we overlook the possibility that, although operat-ing out of our heads can distort the spiritual journey, living only by feelings or feeling-insights, "spiritual hunches" if you will, can be equally distortive? ~ But perhaps we are getting too theoretical. Let me give some examples of how spiritual direction can help someone become a more discerning person. Peter is an ordained minister who is beginning spiritual direction. He says he is overburdened by the work of an inner-city parish. In several sessions he mentions his hope that the spiritual direction will give him an answer to his "burnout." The spiritual director can help Peter examine his day, note areas that might be curtailed, and perhaps even recommend that he change ministries. Another way to go is to examine with Peter his feelings about his situation: What are the feelings? anger? sadness? self-pity? feeling abandoned and alone? He might then be asked whether the different feelings (not his work nor the situation in general) are leading him to God or away from God. This question needs to be asked with careful nuances. It is here, too, that the exchange can become prayerful. Most people 52 Review for Religious never examine their feelings with God. They may mention them to God, but they never explore how God reacts or even feels about their feelings. It is almost as though God were "over there," observing things, but never really empathetic, never really involved in their feelings, especially "negative" ones like anger, sadness, and self-pity. Is it possible that, as Peter explores his feelings about his burnout, he might become more aware, more discerning about his inner movements and the direction in which they are taking him: to God? away from God? Is it possi-ble, too, that out of this awareness some clarity about practical decisions affecting his burnout might come to him? Can we see how some kind of disciplined willing-ness to look at our feelings and testing their reasonableness with God is central to dis-cernment? Can we also see that it is a chal-lenge to the spiritual director to encourage directees, especially those who operate out of their head (as most of us do), to take this route? It is indeed a real challenge, even hard work. Maria has been coming for direction for several years. She is energetic, has a sense of humor, and talks with verve and rapid-ity. She actively seeks God, even seems to wrestle with him in a verbal kind of way. One day she comes and blurts out: "Where am I in my relationship with God? I am becoming more and more clearly aware of my sinfulness--not vague sinfulness, but specific sins and definite sinfulness. I realize I can do nothing good. I wonder why he bothers with me. And yet I am at peace with this; I don't feel upset by this. And then, when I go into poor neigh-borhoods and see all the people and the poverty and suffering, I wonder if there is a God. I doubt that there can be a God. No, I just don't believe there is a God." She stops and looks at the direc-tor as though to say, "Now solve that!" Clearly, the spiritual director cannot solve anything, nor should she try. Yet there is a "way out." In listening to Maria, the director needs also to listen to herself, noting any movements that are taking place within herself as she listens to Maria. She notices a twinge in her heart when Maria says, "I wonder why he bothers with me." Acting on that, and by patient questioning, the All growth in the spiritual life is strongly rooted in desire, and it is from desire that commitment flows. January-February 1992 53 Reutemann ¯ Becoming a Discerning Person director explores: "Why do you wonder? What is that like? What are you feeling as you wonder that? And God, what might she be feeling as you realize within yourself that you can do nothing good by yourself?." Following this, there might be the opportunity to look closely at the poor, the suffering, and the abandoned and to wonder with Maria whether God bothers with them as she does with her. And then it might be possible to ask Maria: "Are you aware of God asking anything of you in all of this? Do you and God have anything in common here?" Helping a person sort out movements within, even seemingly contradictory movements like peace and sinfulness, compassion for the poor and disbelief in God, is exactly what spiritual direction and its discernment is all about. Other examples of this sorting-out process could be given; but perhaps it is time to make some summary observations about spiritual direction and becoming a discerning person. 1. Formal spiritual direction allows someone to articulate experiences. The central element in experiences, however, is feel-ings and, ultimately, the desires associated with those feelings. All growth in the spiritual life is strongly rooted in desire, and it is from desire that commitment flows. 2. When spiritual direction is focused on discerning the inner movements, then ordinarily connections can be made, themes and tendencies become apparent, and a sense of a desirable direc-tion becomes clear. When this occurs over time, a feeling of ener-gized peace develops on the journey. This becomes evident when remarks like these are made at the end of a direction session: "You're the only one I can talk with on this level--it means a lot to me." "This has been a very insightful session today--it hangs together." "My retreat experience has become more real to me after our talking about it. Things are working out." 3. When discernment is being practiced in spiritual direc-tion, there frequently occur corrections in judgments that directees make about themselves, especially negative judgments. In other words, a positive realistic outlook about the self develops. In addition, the Achilles' heel--that blocking, negative orientation which keeps recurring--generally gets discovered, and this allows for appropriate strategies to deal with it. 4. Practicing discernment with the assistance of a spiritual director encourages a disciplined willingness to check out feel-ings, name them, and test them against reality, that is, test their Review for Religious inner rationality. In this way we discover whether our feelings and what underlies them are leading us to God and our better self, or away from God into darkness and confusion. 5. Insight alone rarely changes people. Action, or commit-ment to trying to live differently, often does change people. Hence, it is not sufficient that our discerning be merely an aware-ness. Motivated desires and even specific tasks need to follow awareness, and so it can be said that discernment and decision making work together for growth in the spiritual life. 6. From all of the above, hopefully we can see that the goal of spiritual direction is to develop a discerning person who func-tions thus outside of the spiritual-direction relationship, some-one who moves with clarity in the direction of active love. Hopefully, too, those two basic questions of the life journey: What does it all mean? and what shall I do with my love? will find bet-ter, clearer answers. Note 1 See pp. 36-37 of Michael J. O'Sullivan sJ, "Trust Your Feelings, but Use Your Head: Discernment and the Psychology of Decision Making," Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits, 22/4 (September 1990). I have been helped in my thinking about the interrelationship of feeling and thought in discernment by this article. The Light at the End of the Year Snow has fallen. Day is dark With the early coming on of night; December's darkness fin& its only spark Of brilliance in the Christmas light. Gray as our winter lives become, and stark With harshest turns of weather, bright Is the year's blessed ending. Mark! Now the starburst at earth's Eastward height. Nancy G. Westerfield January-February 1992 55 BRIAN O'LEARY Discernment and Decision Making Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is--his good, pleasing, and perfect will (Rm 12:2). exposing the influence that a projected course of action will have on one's relationship to God in Christ. It is not, therefore, some kind of generalized awareness of God or of his presence, but an insertion into a process--the process of finding and owning the will of God or, in other words, of Christian decision making. A dis-cernment which does not lead to a decision is incomplete, has been aborted at some point along the way. When a decision has been reached, it becomes a concrete expression, an incarnation of one's desire to respond to God's love and to serve his kingdom. Personal Freedom In spite of the laudable wishes of many Christians to move away from an

The Mercury March, 1901 u >—I N D c THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY The Literary Journal of Pennsylvania College Entered at the Postoffice at Gettysburg as second-class matter ■ I VOL. X GETTYSBURG, PA., MARCH, 1901 No. 1 WANTED:—A MAN JAMES MCCREE. Wanted:—a man, a true real man; Too proud to stoop and too clean to steal. Too broad for party, or clique, or creed, Yet loving his country's weal. With an open hand for friend or foe, And a restful faith where he cannot know. Wanted:—a man without a price, Who will do the right, nor count the cost; Scorning a world broad title deed If purchased with honor lost. With nerve to look a wrong in the eye, And courage to strangle it till it die. Wanted:—a man with a woman's heart, To swell in pity at human woe; With god-like grasp of intellect For the cause that deals the blow; And, with sturdy stroke of word or pen, Smite the curse from the hearts of his fellow-men. GETTYSBURG COLLEGE LIBRARY GETTYSBURG, PA. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY THE RELATION OF THE JUS NATURALE TO THE JUS GENTIUM J. RUSH STONER, '01. TN order that we may arrive at any idea of the relation of the jus *■ naturale to the jus gentium, we must first try to get a clear conception of the real nature or characteristics of these two forms of Roman law. When the stoic philosophy came into the hands of the Roman jurists, they extracted from its vigorous and elevating theories the idea of Natural Law as applicable to Roman jurisprudence. These jurists held that what they termed the jus naturale was the natural and ethical foundation upon which must rest all Civil Law. Thus the origin of Natural Law among the Romans might be referred to the philosophical ideas of the Stoics. These Grecian philosophers looked upon the universe as "imbued with an all-pervading soul or power," which they considered not only as a "dynamical force producing motion, but as a rational principle producing order and perfection." This rational principle, the}'' taught, is a constituent element of all being, and reveals itself not only as a law of the physical world in external nature, but also as a guide for human conduct, having its throne in the conscious-ness of man. Man's greatest duty, they claimed, is to discover the law of reason and conform to this law as it is set forth in the "essential constitution of his nature." The highest precept in the Stoic philosophy was "to live in harmony with nature." It was the ultimate principle laid down to guide men in all the rela-tions of life. And how true is the statement made by one of the writers on this subject: "By his original constitution, man is a participant of the Universal Reason, and by the exercise of his rational faculties he can discover the Law of Nature, so far as it is necessary to control his own conduct. When looked at from a moral point of view, the Law of Nature is thus the highest rule of human conduct, and the ultimate standard by which all human actions, whether individual, social or civil, must be judged." This Stoic philosophy, since the conquest of Greece, had a vast influence over Roman thought along the line of morality,— individual and social,—and legal rights and duties. Roman lit-erature from the time of Cicero to Alexander Severus was per-vaded" with the idea that law has a deeper foundation than mere conventionalities or customs. Cicero was the first to make the important step of grounding law upon nature; and in his "Laws" THE GETTSBURG MERCURY the fundamental principle is laid down "that man is born for jus-tice, and that law and equity are not a mere establishment of opinion but an institution of nature." This principle was specially applied by the jurists of the Empire in determining legal rights and duties. Just what idea the Romans had of Natural Law seems to be somewhat vague. Ulpian says that Natural Law is common to all living creatures, both man and beast; but this view was not generally accepted and had no influence on the legal thought of Rome. It was generally considered, in a proper sense, as applicable only to rational being. Cicero, in a striking passage of his "De Republica," gives his views regarding Natural Law, declaring that God is its author and its duties are unchangeable obligations. Therefore, he says, "It is not one law in Rome and another in Athens, one to-day and another to-morrow, but it is ever the same, exerting its obligatory force over all nations and throughout all ages." Here we perceive the germ of International Law planted in the alluvial soil of heathen philosophy; after the elapse of many centuries, to spring up into the vast system of In-ternational Law now involving much of the ripest modern thought and promising a vigorous growth to perfection in the future. There is not a universal agreement in the theories of the dif-ferent writers on the Law of Nature. However, Chancellor Kent follows very nearly the definition given by Grotius, when he says, "By the Law of Nature I understand those fit and just rules of conduct, which the creator has prescribed to man as a dependent and social being and which are to be ascertained from the deduc-tions of right reason, though they may be more precisely known and more explicitly declared by Divine Revelation." It is said to be written on the heart of everyone by the Divine Hand and that no one can claim ignorance of it, in so far as his degree of intellectual and moral development makes him able to read it. And its author, essentially just, is everywhere and always the same. Taking this view of Natural Law it would seem to belong more appropriately to ethics than jurisprudence. In fact, many writers do consider it as equivalent to Moral Science. Many writers, as Dr. Paley in his work on "Moral Philosophy," main-tain that it embraces man's duty to God, to his neighbor and to self. Some exclude all other significance of the term Natural Law, and confine it strictly to the "rules prescribed to man, by THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY right reason, in his conduct to his fellowmen." Then there is a third class who use it in a still more restricted sense to mark out the theory of only that part of man's duty to his fellowmen that can be enforced. There are rules of justice which are universally recognized as founded on the rational nature of man and dictated by reason. Agreeing with the statement made in Prof. Lorimer's "Institutes of Law," I believe that Natural L,aw may be most accurately de-scribed as "the dictates of reason with reference to human rela-tions." Judging from some of the ideas cherished by the Romans, their conceptions of the true significance of Natural Law were vague. They looked upon it at times as equivalent to equity, and this seems to have been the real point of contact, through which the jus naturale and the jus gentium blended into one perfect code of law. Then again they considered it as synonymous with the jus gentium. Whatever is the relation the jus ?iaturale bears to the jus gen-tium, one thing is sure, it performed an important role in estab-lishing for Rome her vast and matchless system of law. The jus gentmtn, according to Main's interpretation, was "a collection of rules and principles determined by observation to be common to the institutions which prevailed among the various Italian tribes." Whenever a certain custom or usage was observed to be common to a large number of races, it was set down as a part of the Law of Nations, or jus gentium. A great many observances of this kind were made, and if, after a careful examination, a common characteristic having a common object was found in all of them, it was thus classified in the jus gentium. This new system thus established was not favored by many at that time. It was con-sidered as a mere appendage to the jus civile, as a practical means for adjusting civil relations between real Romans and foreigners. But this new system of law was destined to hold a more impor-tant place in Roman jurisprudence. Soon it came to be regarded as a constituent part of Roman law, equal to the jus civile and even more superior in dignity. And the whole body of Roman law was then made up of these two essential and co-ordinate parts, .the old jus civile and the jus gentium. These two elements were combined to form one body of jurisprudence, and henceforth there was a tendency in legal development at Rome for "law" and "equity" to blend into one "single and organic system of justice." THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 5 The close relation the jus naturalehore to the jus gentium may be seen in the prevailing belief existing among the Roman jurists when the theory of Natural L,aw was introduced for their consid-eration. They believed that 'the old jus genthim was in fact the lost code of nature, and that the praetor in framing an edictal jurisprudence on the principles of the jus gentium was gradually restoring a type from which law had only departed to deteriorate." When viewed in the light of Natural L,aw, the jus gentium took on a significance vastly different from the old. It was no longer looked upon as a mere "body of customs common to Rome and the states subject to Roman dominion," but those common laws collected by the praetors were now believed to be the laws that Universal Reason had instituted for men in primitive society. And the fact of their common existence was a strong proof that they were taken from 'universal principles inherent in the very nature of man." And as a consequence there was a tendency among the philosophical jurists to identify, in this highest sense, the jus gentium with jus nalurale. Gains declares that "the law which natural reason has constituted for all men, obtains equally among all nations and is called jus gentium." We have associated with the conception of nature the ideas of "simplification" and "generalization." And the result of a close study of the L,aw of Nature by the Roman jurists was that of in-ducing them to regard "simplicity," "symmetry" and "intelligi-bility" as the main characteristics of a good legal system. And when the jus gentium was looked at in the light of the theory of Natural Law, the copious and involved phrases of the law became out of taste, and the many ceremonials and other useless difficul-ties quickly vanished. Thus the contact of these two principles not only gave to the established system of Roman law a greater dignity but also made it more concise and direct. The jus gentium, when thus transformed from its old signifi-cance to a higher meaning by the reforming power of Equity as cherished among the jurists, was brought into so close a relation to the jus nalurale that the two principles became one and insep-arable. And while the idea of equity seems to have been the ele-ment through which these laws were united, yet the union of these laws had the effect of establishing a higher conception of ' 'aequi- /os" itself. The'jus gentium " "a^«Vai"andthe "jusnaturale," all bear a very close relation to each other. Their similarity is ■"■I1,M" 6 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY evident from the fact that they were so often considered identical. But each, if carefully examined, is noticed to have its own indi-vidual characteristics to distinguish it from the others. These terms of Roman jurisprudence might be considered successive steps in the development from a mere germ of International Law approaching the "perfect law of reason." But when we attempt to determine exactly what the true relation between \hajus naiut-ale and the jitsgentium was, we enter upon disputed ground. The real meaning the Roman jurists attached to the famous phrase, jus gentium, is not yet satisfactorily decided. And until this is rightly settled, no accurate conclusion regarding their real relation can be drawn. But one thing is certain, when Grotius drew up his famous system, known as the "Grotian Law of Nature," he adopted many principles of the jus gentiuni, declaring that they were part of that Natural Law, which all men are compelled by their own reason to obey; and his system of law was universally accepted by the civilized world. eQtfb THE HARM OF EXCESSIVE NOVEL READING ROBERT W. LENKKR, '03. [ OVEL reading is one of the principal diversions of the present day. Great is the number of persons who, as soon as they have partaken of a meal, lie idly about to digest, as it were, the plot of a novel along with their food. Neither is novel reading confined to that class who are well able to be at leisure at almost all hours, but it is indulged in by all classes from the common laboring man to the best families of the earth. Thus the novel has a great range and is read by a vast multitude. To read a good novel occasionally, thinking about what you have read, and storing it away, is beneficial and instructive, but to skip over any novel, good or bad, as many do, is harmful. Some one has said, "Reading without reflecting is like eating without digesting." It is necessary that novels should be classified for this discus-sion. First, we have the classical novel which has stood the test of years and has been given a permanent place in the literature of the world. Nothing harmful can result from the excessive read-ing of this class except that the habit may be carried so far as to THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 7 be at the expense of biography, history and other matters of fact which are needful. The popular novel is the next to be considered. In this class are found such books as David Harum, Janice Meredith, Richard Carvel, and scores of others of not quite so recent publication. One is not considered " up to date " who has not read these books, but let me ask how many of these books will stand the test of years. Just one step lower than the popular novel we find books by such authors as Bertha Clay, Mfs. Georgie Sheldon, and hun-dreds of others of the same rank. The constant reading of books of this kind is most injurious. Of course the novel must have its hero or heroine, and it must of necessity be a tale of love. In these books the sympathy of the tender hearted reader goes out to one or more of the fictitious per-sonages. Sympathy gives way to compassion, and compassion to tears—the usual sign of grief. Were this to happen occasionally there would be no harm done, but when one is addicted to the novel it is a frequent occurrence. Softness of the heart disappears gradually, and finally all sense of tenderness and sympathy is destroyed. The last and worst class of novels is that class of dime novels so fitly styled 'blood and thunder." They frequently lead to heinous crimes those who are so unfortunate as to be drawn into the habit of reading them. This is a work of the devil which finds willing victims among school boys, and to which the corruption and ruin of many a precious soul may be attributed. It is need-less to describe this class of vile literature, but let it suffice to say-that the excessive reading of it has sent thousands of men to jails, penitentiaries and even to the gallows. Taken all in all, the reading to excess of any novels, whether classical or not, is harmful to humanity, first, because it destroys all sense of feeling; second, because it keeps from us the history of the world and its great men, and lastly, it takes up many hours which should be spent more profitably. An educated mind is a full-blown rose whose fragrance rejuv-enates all that come near.—Exchange. *-""-" — THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY MAS JOHNNY DEAR. CHAS. W. WEISER, '01. Johnny was a little man Who never told a lie, He never stole at mother's jam, Or "swiped" a piece of pie. (?) He spent his early years at home, Obedient (?) to his "ma," He was an angel in the sight Of his doting "pa." And when at last the day came That he was sent to school, He had a little "swelled head," And meant to keep the rule. (?) The fellows called him "sissy," He called them names as well; They had a "scrap" at recess Of which I "darsent tell." But when at eve returning He had a battered nose, A blackened eye and "strubbled" head, He made a prelty pose. His mamma had the tantrums, His papa took a fit, He was "as mad as blazes" That Johnny "wasn't it." * * « * He went to see his grandma Who lived upon the farm— All dressed "a cock-o-lorum" He did the "rustics" charm. He "grabbed a hold" the black cat, He held her by the tail, She scratched him on the "paddy" Which made the "youngster" wail. While playing with the house-dog, He fastened on a can, And clapped his hands, a shouting While the creature ran. He stole into the barn-yard And scared the poultry out, He stoned the pigs and cattle, Running 'round about. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY He "grabbed a hold" a cow's tail, She started on a run, She threw him in a mud hole— You should have seen the fun, They penned him in the wash-house, From there he "took a sneak," He climbed out thro' the window— He was a "perfect freak." He stole into the pantry, And helped himself to jam; He then ran down the mill-race, And fell into the dam. Old Towser saw him struggling, And helped him get away; He fled into the hay-loft, And lay upon the hay. "Twas there they found him sleeping- "Ma's darling little one," When they found he's missing, And all in search had run. «f£» A TOAST S. W. HERMAN, '99. 'TWAS a brilliant assemblage. Men famous as artists, sculp- A tors, authors and specialists of every kind had been gathered to grace the banquet. The odor of flowers and costly perfumes verily saturated the air. The tables were ladened with priceless gold and silver vessels heaped up with delicate viands. All that was beautiful seemed to be there to please the eye and delight the taste. Among the group of men there were but few in youthful prime. The springtime had passed and the autumn of life was draw-ing near to the great majority. Amid the clink of glasses and the clang of platters they lingered long over the feast. Then came the toasts and there was but one subject given to which each should respond—"The Happiest Day in Your Life." One of the youngest arose and holding high his bright goblet drank to the day when his ambition was realized in producing his first book. He recalled the intoxication of the joyous moment when he was assured of its success. Another drank to the day when his master-piece, a great paint- rsm 10 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY I ing, was completed and he stood before it drinking in its sublime beauty. Another told how happy was the day'when he restored, by a cut of his knife, the life of a patient. And another told of a life rescued from the depths of degradation and saved to a new life. Thus they spake of the days that brought to them the greatest joy. There was but one left and he was very old. The far away look in his eyes mirrored the character of his thoughts. As a swift rush of the incoming tide, his boyhood came back to him and he retraced it step by step. Slowly, almost unconsciously, he arose and with voice low, but distinct, gave his toast. He spake as though he were talking to some unseen person, relating a tale that had become the sweeter the more he told it. A silence that could almost be felt fell upon his hearers and thus he spake: "How well do I remember that day, the day of days, when joy rushed into my heart with an over-powering sense of completeness. Standing at this distance and looking into the past, memory brings back its relics and lays them here before my mental vision. Yes, almost as real as when they happened. Only the rough places are smoothed over now and the sharp corners are rounded by time's peculiar power. I thought upon that bright day that sor-row could never enter into my life again. The cup of happiness, which was held to my lips, was so full that it overran the brim and was wasted. I did not care because I had so much, neither did I think that some day I would agonize in spirit and begrudge even one drop spilled. But many days and years have filled in the gap between that day and this. Days of varied pleasures and sorrows. Pleasures that tried hard to measure up to the joy of that one day, but somehow failed. Sorrows which by comparison seemed very bitter, even bitter unto death. I will tell the story of that day and you may judge what happiness was mine and now the pain. I awoke at the call of the birds that morning. Such melodies poured forth from their throats that it seemed the very air I breathed was sweet with mu-sic. It thrilled me so. A song of praise rushed from my heart and lips. With the song came words of prayer and thankfulness. My life had been one unbroken dream of tender care and comfort. Where'er my eyes turned that morning I caught glimpses of that which made me glad. And then I closed my eyes and saw bless-ing upon blessing passing before my vision, coming back in this THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 11 memory's hour, to show me cause for gratitude. But I arose and threw open the window to let in the pure fresh air of spring-tide. Oh! glorious vision of life everywhere. As I threw open the win-dows of that dark room, I threw open the windows of my soul and let in the light. And it seemed to rush in and bear me up to the great fountain of light so that I was cleansed and purified for the day's toil. I could not help but say : 'Thanks be to Thee, who gavest light of day to dissipate the darkness of the night and for that light which removes the darkness of ignorance and sin.' From my window I could see far down the valley. I could see fields green with growing grain. Here and there upon the winding road were wagons wending their way to the little village lying in the midst of the valley. Down by the side of a dancing brook were the cows taking their morning drink. In the barn the horses were being harnessed. The chickens were busily scratching in the barnyard for their breakfast of flies and worms. Everything betokened peace and plenty. On the other side of the brook the ground rose in undulating swells until it reached the foot of the distant bluish mountain. I seemed to absorb that quiet yet beautiful scene, unmoved by the forces about me, not feeling my-self akin to the life powers that existed in them. Then I hastened to come down and bathed in the cool sparkling water, making my body as pure and clean as my soul had been cleansed before. I can feel even now the vigor which that bath imparted. The blood fairly rushed thro my veins. That was life, strong in its intensity. And then came the breakfast and the morning greeting of father, mother and baby sister. Father's loud and cheery voice, mother's quiet and tender and sister's baby greeting. All these were infinitely tender and joyous as I recall them over the space of years. Was there disappointment or sorrow in any of those tones? It didn't seem so then. Ours was a perfect home, full of unselfishness and love. The daily chores were soon done and well done, since the day would be given me as a holiday in which I might do whatsoever I desired. Mother smiled to hear me singing at my tasks. The wood was sawed, split and carried to the wood-box. The water was drawn. Then I sat and/watched mother as she worked, and after many attempts, countless digressions and falteriugs of speech, I unveiled my heart to her. She understood me as only a loving mother can, and coming, took rny hand in hers and stroked my boyish curls. I can feel her cooling hand L ""Il" ■"■'■■ ' ""* 12 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY upon my brow even now—hands hardened by toil in deeds of love. What healing power was in those hands ! By their magic touch the fever in my veins was conquered. Aye, even the heart throbs of youthful sorrow melted away like the tiny ice-diamonds in the warmth of the morning sun. How often since have I wished myself back upon that old doorstep, telling mother all my trials and being prescribed for with her love that probed deeper than a surgeon's knife, yet with infinitely less pain and far better results. You will have guessed ere this the love which I had hidden in my heart. It was to me so sacred that I scarce could breathe it aloud for fear the winds might catch it up and tell to all the world my sweet shame, for so it seemed to me in those first hours. But 'mother heard it all and wished me well. She told me the old saying that the lady fair was never won by a heart that fainted. So I resolved to do that day what had lain upon my heart so long and begged for utterance. No more did my love seem boyish in my eyes, for under mother's magic spell it assumed its true pro-portions and I knew that the grandest thing in all the world was love. I had not cared now even if the birds had told it where'er they went, or the winds had found out my secret and had whispered it to all parts of the universe. Indeed I tried to think and speak aloud how I should plead my cause, and when, late in the after-noon, I went to see the one who awoke within me all this tender care, I had mapped out my plans. As I drove over that familiar road, all nature seemed transformed. The plants and trees sent forth an aroma than which I never breathed a more delicious fra-grance. Even the clouds of dust through the sun's rays appeared as showers of gold. And as I rounded the last bend of that little lane down by the garden, I saw her picking weeds from out the beds. How like her ! A weed troubled her until it was removed. There was not a weed in her pure soul. I stopped to gaze when suddenly she turned and saw me. I wasn't prepared for that. I wonder which of us felt the more embarrassed. She with a sud-den turn had torn her apron off and unrolled the sleeves which had revealed to me a dimpled, dainty arm. And I was caught as a spy, it seemed to me, gazing upon forbidden objects. My courage slowly returned, as with a graceful bow she welcomed me. My! but now my new born boldness had deserted me. Where was that self-assurance now, which was so self-assertive 7HE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 13 but a short time since. All my forces put to flight by a little pink dress. There I sat and pondered over this question until she came forth to take a drive with me. We chose the road along the little dancing brook. The memory of that evening comes to me now, with such a wealth of meaning, that my words to de-scribe it seem to clothe it with poor rags. We talked of indiffer-ent things. But there was something that I wanted to say which seemed to choke me. I would make a bold attempt, only to fin-ish my remark with something concerning stream or sky or when these became exhausted to repeat them. At least a silence fell. I said I alwa)'S liked to view such a scene in silence and simply think. But really I wanted time to bring up reserve forces for the final attack upon this little defenceless fortress by my side. It was unfair I know. But had she been armed with all the weapons of war I would have had more courage. Every-thing about me seemed to speak of love. This little brook which rushed along so gayly, kissing the bank and babbling words of love to the fair water lilies, urged me on. The trees, aided by the winds, clasped their branches around each other and sighed with very surfeit of love. And yonder setting sun blushed rosy red as he kissed yon mountain top. With the increasing fervor of my imagination and the figures which it formed, I grew bolder. But now my beautiful words had flown. I thought it best to cap-ture by a quick attack, and so I blurted out my love. I would give half the years of my life to see again that flush of glad sur-prise, to see those deep blue eyes look into mine with sweet sur-render. Silence now was welcome, while our hearts tried to calm their startled beat and understand their wondrous joy. We loved and all the world can never know our secret until it feels the power within its breast. The hours glided by and we came home. Then followed days of sweet assurance. No longer doubts came into either mind to mar the sweet security ofmutual surrender. All days were bright when I had her to see. But that day seems to me brighter than them all. And if my choice were granted me to bring back whatever day I might choose from my past life, 'twould be that day in which we told each other's love. That night the stars shone with dazzling brightness. The moon seemed to rival the sun. The katydids sang for me and the fire flies be-came as attendant spirits to show me home. Mother was waiting for me and I poured into her listening ear 14 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY the story of my happiness. She wept with very sorrow at losing me. No longer was she as brave as when she urged me on that morning. But her tears of self-loss were soon spent and she only remembered my joy. Who can understand the depth of the mother's love? My love has long since died. Father and mother, too, have gone to join that invisible throng. I live in the past, in those days when my happiness was overflowing day by day. Memory is my faithful servant to recount the sweet old story. Even when I glance forward into the future, memory brings me the materials from the past with which the vision is built. When I may see her again after these years of separation, will hold her again in my arms and tell her how my love for her has remained young and strong, that will be the happiest day of all days." The old man's voice faltered and broke, but suddenly his eyes brightened. He seemed to be listening intently to some one speak-ing to him. And then again he spake in tones loud and distinct. "But listen, I hear again the song of the birds. Throw open the windows. I^et in the light. There they come, all of them, father, mother and sweetheart." The toast was ended. Tears were the applause. Reverently they laid the old man down. At last the happiest day had dawned. c^p SOUL, WHAT ART THOU? Oh my soul! what canst thou be, With thy unknown heraldry— Thy ceaseless ebb of consciousness ? Wilt thou tell me whence has come This thy strange incessant hum, Made manifest with vividness ? From what weird ethereal realm Hast thou found a ready Helm, To guide thee to this senseless clay ? Closely shrouded in a cloud, Or the thunder riven loud, Has chance in some way shown the way ? Maybe thou hast been evolved And must yet be all dissolved With that which gave thee thy birth. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 15 Then wilt thou like meteor flee, . Where the sun from gilded sea Of clouds looks down upon the earth ? And wilt thou leave to its fate Clay thou didst inanimate, When it distasteful is to thee? Or, returning, bear away This clod to elysian day, Transformed to angels' symmetry? Soul. Oft in adversity ; Oft filled with amenity. The strangest of all things below. Perceiving and defining ; Recalling and combining; And feeling knows and knows it knows. Soul—essence in unity With powers of a Trinity— Wilt thou reveal thyself to me ? Or to immortality Change, and with celerity Reveal then thy identity ? «^SL> 'PORTER. Are you one of those noisy people ? Are you ? Stop and think. Noise never wins a man anything. It is never construc-tive— it is ever destructive. Know a poor, imperfect machine by the noise it makes. The mightiest of mechanisms, the solar system, works in perfect silence. Men who have moved their fellow men have ever been the most quiet in their demeanor. There is real power in silence. Seek to gain that power now while at college. Remember that "voice answereth to voice," and it is the "still small voice" you must awaken in the hearts of men if in any way you are to rule them. e*$b I hold in truth, with him who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things. —TBNNYSON. I \J\J H *— * ' —■ ■lllWMl I ■■■■' I HUM THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY Entered at the Postoffice at Gettysburg as second-class matter Vox. X GETTYSBURG, PA., MARCH, 1901 No. 1 E. C. RUBY, '02, Editor-in- Chief R. ST. CLAIR POFFENBARGER,' 02, Business Manager J. F. NEWMAN, '02, Exchange Editor Assistant Editors Miss ANNIE M. SWARTZ, '02 A. B. RICHARD, '02 Advisory Board PROF. J. A. HIMES, A. M., LIT. D. PROF. G. D. STAHLEY, M.D. PROF. J. TV. RICHARD. D. D. Assistant Business Manager CURTIS E. COOK, '03 Published each mouth, from October to June iuclusive, by the joint literary societies of Pennsylvania (Gettysburg) College. Subscription priced One Dollar a year in advance; single copies Ten Cents. Notice to discontinue sending- the MERCURY to any address must be accompanied by all arrearages. Students, Profesiors, and Alumni are cordially invited to contribute. All subscriptions and business matter should be addressed to the Business Manager. Articles for publication should be addressed to the Editor. Address THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY, GETTYSBURG, PA. EDITORIALS nPO the members of the retiring staff we do not hesitate to say *• that we voice the sentiment of every friend of the MERCURY in extending to them a vote of thanks for their very acceptable and efficient service rendered to the literary journal of our Alma Mater. The editorial and the business departments have been so managed as to reflect great credit upon the staff. The high rank which the MERCURY, as a literary journal, holds to-day among the college publications and the excellent financial standing of the same shows that the student body had not misplaced their confi-dence. Whether this can be said of the new staff is a question which remains to be answered one year hence. To the Getlysburgian we extend our thanks for its words of THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 17 encouragement. We bespeak for the members of its new staff unparalleled success in the work which has been placed into their hands. With this issue the MERCURY enters upon its tenth year. It has not grown up without its trials and difficulties. In fact, it stands to-day as an excellent example of the truth that "strength is born of struggle." Let us not think, however, that it can maintain its present position without any more support. The pressure which is brought to bear upon it is greater each year. The more it grows and reaches out the more resistance it must necessarily overcome in order to move forward. With this in mind we trust that the students and alumni of Gettysburg College will give us all the encouragement and assistance possible in try-ing to push this journal to the foremost rank of its class. As to the case of plagiarism referred to in the February num-ber of this journal, we suppose it will be satisfactory to our read-ers to learn that the Princeton student has made a confession of his guilt and has been expelled from the University. The follow-ing is an extract from the letter which was written by the Prince-ton student to the editor of the Nassau Literary Magazine: "A great injustice has been done by me to Mr. Heilman, of Gettysburg, the University, my class, especially those who took part in the oratorical contest last June, and all who are proud of belonging to an institution where the principles of true Christian manhood are taught. I want to frankly confess the gross plagia-rism of which I am guilty, and remove any censure that may be brought upon your magazine, for upon me alone devolves the blame." J» The observance of the twenty-second of February as a national holiday is an important factor in the life of every American citi-zen, for it serves as a constant reminder of Washington and his relations to the history of the country and affords a good oppor-tunity for every one to show his patriotism, and his gratitude for the services of the man who threw himself, body and soul, into the life of the nation. Although set aside as a memorial to Wash-ington, it ought also to be looked upon as a remembrance of those who were silent participants in the struggle for success, in order that this country might be free. —S. %J\J> 18 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY AN ALUMNUS HONORED BY THE PEN AND SWORD SOCIETY The Pen and Sword Society has again invaded the ranks of the alumni and succeeded in capturing one upon whom they thought it fitting to fasten their badge of honor. This alumnus was Rev. William M. Baum, D. D., of Philadelphia, Pa., who delivered the address at the recent public meeting of the society. Dr. Baum prepared for college in an academy at Reading, Pa., entered Gettysburg College in 1842, graduated in 1846, entered the Theological Seminary the same year, and was admitted to the ministry in 1848. In 1861 he became a member of the Board of Trustees of Gettysburg College and also of the Board of Di-rectors of the Theological Seminary. He is the oldest member of the Board of Trustees, but is still as young in his activity for the welfare of his alma mater as ever. He seems always ready to grasp any opportunity to further the interests of Gettysburg Col-lege. We feel confident that no one will say that the Pen and Sword has made a mistake in choosing a man whose feelings towards the institution are in perfect harmony with the objects of the society. A NIGHT OF TERROR TN the course of a lifetime one is called upon to undergo many varied experiences. Most of these experiences are transitory in their effects ; but not a few of them, on the other hand, produce an indelible impression upon the mind of the individual, and are never forgotten. It is to this latter class that the one which I am about to relate belongs. Like an evil intruder it broke in upon the peace and monotony of my earlier years, and, at the time, seriously endangered my mental health and happiness. Now, however, although the memory of it is still unimpaired, I am able to look back with a smile of composure upon what was to me at the time a veritable night of terror, and, in the light of a fuller aud riper knowledge, make myself believe that what I so distinctly saw, heard and felt upon that night never had any existence,—in other words, that I was the victim of gross deception on the part of my senses. The northern part of the county of Monroe, in northeastern Pennsylvania, is still covered with vast tracts of woodland in which the ruthless axe of the woodman has not yet been permitted THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 19 to enter upon its work of destruction. Here the wild and pictur-esque Paconas reach skyward in rugged grandeur and beauty, as if in mute appeal to Him who created this old world to be spared from the spoiling hand of civilization. Here, amid venerable peaks, enveloped in hazy blue, deer, bears and other wild animals still find comparative peace and security. And there, too, issuing from out the mountain sides, are many brooklets of clearest and coldest water, which rush in glittering cascades down over pre-cipitous rocks, or, like interminable threads of silver, wind their devious ways among the underbrush in the bottoms of deep and shady ravines. Fortunate indeed is the angler or hunter who finds his way into these primeval regions, for here every brooklet is the home of countless numbers of beautiful, golden-spotted trout which have not yet learned to distrust the deceitful advances of the cunning followers of old Isaac Walton ; while clumsy Brunos frequently apprise you of their presence by suddenly emerging from the dense underbrush and deliberately looking at you in a surprised and inquiring manner, at the same time snorting their decided disapproval of your intrusion , and frequently beautiful deer with large watery eyes will suddenly confront you and then bound off again into the mountain fastnesses. Nor is this region pre-eminent alone for its natural beauty, but nearly every height and valley is invested with a strong romantic interest because of the many curious Indian legends connected therewith. One of these we shall here relate because of the direct bearing which it has upon our story. In a particularly obscure and unfrequented valley in these mountains, miles away from any other human habitation and al-most inaccessible to all but old mountaineers, is a rude and de-crepit log cabin, no longer tenanted by any living creatures but bats and wild animals which at times find in 'it refuge from the fury of the elements. A.nd yet, I hardly dare say that it is with-out any other occupants at present, for, if popular report is to be credited, evil and mischievous spirits of departed tenants still re-turn from time to time and make this old cabin a weird scene of diabolical revelry. Thirty-five years ago this cabin was inhabited by an old Indian sorcerer or medicine man, by the name of Wapohootche. He was the last one of his tribe to resist the civilizing tendencies of the time and place, and for years had dwelt all alone in his se- " " !UM-'' ff—"———- ""—"—■—■ 20 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY eluded valley, appearing among the whites only about once in four or five months in order to exchange venison and furs for the few products of civilization which he might need. Wapohootche was a remarkable character. The term, "old as the hills," was often applied to him, for his shiny, yellow pate, with its few sparse white hairs, his wrinkled and flabby skin and general ap-pearance indicated great age; he was evidently a centenarian be-fore our fathers knew him. However, his erect carriage and glit-tering eye showed that he still possessed much of the vigor and fire of younger years. Because of his reputed powers of sorcery he was held in superstitious fear and awe wherever he went. Wonderful stories were told of his fabulous wealth, and that these stories were well-grounded was shown by the fact that Wapohoot-che continually carried upon his person, as inseparable ornaments, four heavy golden armlets, probable relics of early barbaric splen-dor. It was in the summer of '64 that this Indian was last seen among the whites and it was generally believed that he had been murdered for his money, but not until some years after was any investigation made, so great was the superstitious fear entertained by the whites of entering Wapohootche's valley. At this time, however, two bold young hunters entered the Paconos with the avowed intention of visiting the valley and its solitary cabin. These hunters were never seen again, and popular report had it that they had fallen into the power of the evil spirits of the valley and had been spirited away. A rescuing expedition resulted in ignominious failure, for before it had come into sight of the cabin it was in some unaccountable manner seized with the greatest fear and panic, and the terrified rescuers were only too glad to escape with their lives. No further investigation was made and Wapo-hootche's Valley was shunned by all as an accursed place. In view of what has been said the reader can readily under-stand why I, a boy of fourteen at the time of which I write, should hail with delight the prospect of a trout-fishing trip to the Paconos. It required but little time to make the necessary preparations, and so, early one beautiful May morning, our party of ten started out for a point about two miles north of Wapohootche's Valley where the trout-fishing was exceptionally fine. We arrived at our des-tination just before sunrise, and in an hour or so were all stationed at different distances along a small stream upon the mountain THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY plateau, pulling out the finny beauties at a rate that would satisfy the most zealous fisherman. In the afternoon, by common consent, we divided our forces, some going up stream and the others down. L,ate in the day, about six o'clock as far as I could judge without a watch, I found myself so far down stream that I could obtain no response from my companions to my repeated halloos. However, inasmuch as my luck was very good just then, I determined to continue fishing down stream for awhile and then rejoin my friends. So interested was I in the sport that I became utterly oblivious to the passing time, and was only brought to my senses by the nearby rumbling of thunder. L,ooking about me, I observed that the sun had long since set and darkness, increased by a rapidly approaching thun-der- storm, was settling down. By the time I had put up my fish-ing tackle and had begun to retrace my steps, the storm was upon me in all its fury. I now found that while it was an easy matter to follow the stream on its downward course, it was a very difficult task to travel up stream. With a terrific rain beating in my face and vivid flashes of lightning blinding my eyes, it was impossible for me to make any progress. But, as I was now almost terrified at the prospect of spending a night alone upon the mountain, I de-termined to adopt what seemed to be my last resource, and follow the stream on its downward course until I should come to an old wagon-road which I supposed to be about a mile distant. On I now went with frantic haste, stumbling over rocks, run-ning into trees or becoming entangled in the underbrush. At last, utterly exhausted and completely bewildered, I leaned up against a tree and endeavored to regain my breath and quiet the painful throbbings of my heart. All about me was Stygian dark-ness. I made frenzied and ineffectual efforts to keep from my sight the scenes which every flash of lightning would reveal. The woods about me seemed full of horrible and menacing forms. The white trunks of dead trees with their bare limbs writhing in the storm were magnified by my highly excited imagination into frightful ghosts and the whole mountain seemed peopled with angry spirits. Overcome by exhaustion, fright, and a terrible sense of loneli-ness, I gave way to what was a very natural impulse for a boy of my age and sobbed spasmodically as I leaned there against that —-— yur *-• F^^^™"™™ ■■"■ ■■■■■ ■mniMmiM 22 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY tree. In my tears I found at least a temporary relief; tliey not only helped to shut out from my sight the terrifying scenes about me, but they also had a soothing effect upon my greatly overtaxed physical and mental faculties. A certain numbness seized me, and sinking down into a reclining position, I endeavored to nerve myself for whatever might come. Suddenly there was a particularly vivid flash of lightning and that instant I observed that my wanderings had brought me into a deep ravine. Immediately the appalling truth confronted me that I was lost in Wapohootche's Valley. Nor was I obliged to wait long for a confirmation of this truth, for all at once, with startling suddenness there broke out upon the night air a most hideous and blood-curdling scream which died away in a series of groans and sighs. At the same time I saw, by the aid of the lightning, a log cabin only a short distance before me which I in-stinctively knew to be that of Wapohootche. My knees smote each other and the cold sweat stood in beads upon my forehead. I sank to the ground in abject terror, but found my whole atten-tion involuntarily directed towards the cabin. The fury of the storm had abated, only fitful lightning remain-ing to lend to the scene a weird and ghostly effect. But now I longed for the crash of thunder again and the roar of the wind and rain, for, breaking in upon the oppressive stillness which ensued, there came to my ears from the cabin, heart-piercing sighs, groans and muffled screams of agony and despair, accompanied by fiendish laughter. Then arose a sound as if of some terrible struggle, ending in the fall of a heavy object after which there would again be those screams of agony mingled with demoniacal laughter. I tried to rise and flee, but I found myself riveted to the spot. And now I was able to distinguish a faint reddish glow about the door of the cabin, as it was slowly and silently opened, and presently, to my horror, I beheld in full view the hideous, skin-clad skeleton of Wapohootche, yellow with age and possessing a certain strange and terrifying luminosity. From out of the hol-low sockets of his eyes and from between his grinning jaws issued a reddish light. Suddenly that horrible, grinning skull riveted its gaze upon me; the light from its glowing sockets seemed to penetrate me through and through. And now the hideous appar-ition approached towards me with ghostly stride, the demoniacal grin becoming continually broader. I made another frenzied ef- THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 23 fort to escape, but could not budge. Closer, closer, closer it came until it stood directly over me. Down it stooped, and I felt its cold, clammy fingers about my throat. My blood was frozen in my veins; I could not utter a sound. Slowly, but surely, the vise-like grip of Wapohootche tightened. I was being choked to death. At last, summing up all 1113^ strength, I gave vent to an agonized scream, made a frantic struggle, and thereby ended one of the most disagreeable dreams it has ever been my misfortune to have. The scene which now greeted my eyes was strange indeed, but it had none of the terrifying characteristics of my hideous dream. The dark ravine, the solitary cabin, the weird sights and sounds and the apparition of Wapohootche had disappeared. Instead of these, the moon was shining brightly through the leafy canopy overhead, causing the drops of water, left b}' the recent shower, to sparkle like diamonds, while all about was forest, and only a few yards before me the little stream, in which I had been fish-ing the afternoon before, gurgled and purled as it tumbled along its stony channel. My .mind soon grasped the situation. I remembered the shower, the darkness, the frantic flight, my terror and exhausted condition when I sank at the tree; and I knew it was thus that an unnatural sleep induced by exhaustion, had overpowered me and rendered possible my frightful dream, in which all the worst fears and apprehensions that had seized me during my flight had been more than realized. As I was sitting there, pondering over the strange experiences of the night, the stillness was broken by a familiar voice calling for me from some point not far distant. I immediately answered, and in spite of my stiffness and drenched garments set out with surprising speed along the path which I had followed the evening before. A few more halloos were exchanged, and presently, to my great joy, I met with two of my companions of the previous day who had been searching for me ever since the storm had ceased. There remains but little more to tell. By the time the sun had risen we were well on our way home, my companions re-proaching me more than once along the way for the trouble I had caused them, and I, for my part, being willing to bear all their reproaches without murmuring, inasmuch as Wapohootche and his mysterious valley had been left far behind us. —R. D. C, '00. IW' 24 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY THE OLD SPELLIING SCHOOL EMORY D. BREAM, '02. \ BOUT sixty-five years ago there arose in the country schools ** of this part of the country the custom of devoting a part of one day in each week to a spelling match. Reading, writing, arithmetic and spelling were the principal branches then taught. The teachers had very limited knowledge of arithmetic, so that the children learned little more than reading, writing and spelling. As spelling was the foundation of reading and writing, the teach-ers felt that it should have special attention. Out of these spelling matches in the school grew the night spelling school. The primary purpose in view was to learn to spell correctly. The school terms were short. The farmers did not have the im-proved machinery and labor-saving methods that they now em-ploy. Competition was not so great and money making was the chief aim of progressive country people. Their plain ways of living and dressing were inexpensive, so that by beginning early and working hard a young man was in most cases able to start in life with a comfortable income. Owing to these facts the children as a rule were not sent to school until late in the winter and then did not always attend regularly on account of threshing and other work that was done during the winter season. Often, too, they did not go to school after they were fifteen or sixteen. Al-though the people paid little attention to education, yet they felt the need of spelling when they wished to write a letter or trans-act business. It was to this end that such schools were begun. The social benefit of such meetings was also taken into consid-eration. Places of entertainment and social gatherings were few. Anything that would afford a meeting place for the young people was sure to be well attended. The boys and girls not only learned to know each other better but became acquainted with those who came from a distance. The only place that could be obtained for such a meeting was the district school-house. These buildings were the property of the people and everybody was made to feel welcome. The only convenient time to hold such a meeting was in the long winter evenings when the days were short and the people were not tired and exhausted from toiling through long hours in the scorching sun. The meetings were usually held weekly and always on the same evening of the week. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 25 Spelling schools were started for the benefit of young men and women, but the teachers soon became very much interested and in this way used their influence in getting their pupils to attend. The children were anxious to go and often succeeded in bringing their fathers and sometimes their mothers with them. About seven o'clock was the time to begin spelling. Before beginning, however, the class had to be organized and some num-ber chosen for a game. Two persons were selected to choose those whom each wished to spell on his or her side. Desks such as we now have in our school-rooms were unknown to them. Long benches were used instead. These benches would be placed along the wall on each side of the room, and each of the two di-visions of the class occupied the benches, one division facing the other. The best spellers were chosen first and took their places in order, commencing at the front end of the room. Either Web-ster's or Walker's common school dictionary was used. The teacher of the school, or some other person who could articulate distinctly, dictated the words and kept "tally," as it was called; that is, kept an account of the words missed by one side and gained by the other. Sometimes the teacher would ap-point another person to perform this office. Commencing at the head end of the class, one word and one trial was given to each member, passing alternately from one side to the other. In case a word was misspelled by one person it was given to one on the opposing side. Should he or she spell it cor-rectly that counted one for the side on which it was spelled. A word was always permitted to go until spelled correctly. Return-ing from the foot to the head of the class, spelling continued until the game was won. The number usually taken was fifteen or twenty, varying according to the ability of the audience in general. When one game had been spelled an intermission often or fifteen minutes was given. This was a time for conversation and finding a partner to take home when the meeting should close. Recess being ended, a new class was chosen and another game spelled after which "spelling off'' took place. Taking the two at the foot of the class, one from each side, they were permitted to spell against one another until one ' 'spelled the other down.'' The unsuccessful one now sat down and the next person on the same side rose in his stead. In this manner the spelling was continued ■——- DJ\JI BUI ■ mgBKB^Bimmmmmmmfiimmummimmwiimmnmmmmim 26 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY till all of one side had sat down. The audience was then dis-missed and the engagements made at recess were fulfilled. The growth of spelling schools was rapid. Not only did they increase in number but soon became well attended. With growth came success. By taking part in one or more of such matches each week for several winters, persons of ordinary ability became good spellers. Those who took special interest in the work would master all the words in the abridged dictionaries. Some who could not even read or write learned to spell comparatively well. This helped them to higher planes in society. Taking into con-sideration these facts, we feel safe in saying that the old spelling school reflects very creditably upon the people of half a century ago. To say that spelling schools have simply gone out of style is not sufficient. They are not altogether a thing of the past, but are few in number and little interest is taken in them. Various causes have contributed to their decline. Probably the introduction of more branches into the schools and the advance along all educational lines has taken the attention of the people from spelling to other studies. The children remain in school a few years longer than formerly. Many of these young people prefer to spend their evenings in study. Not as many people are required to do the farm work as formerly. Many young people have gone to the factories and schools of the cities so that there are not as many young people in the country as there were years ago. Other causes might be in-cluded among the foregoing reasons but the result would not be altered. From these facts it must be obvious that the spelling schools will not be revived to any great extent. Nor will the coming generations ever attain the proficiency which characterized many of our fathers and mothers. «t*£> Too much of joy is sorrowful, So cares must needs abound ; The vine that bears too many flowers, Will trail upon the ground. —ALICE CARY. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 27 RUSSIA'S ATTITUDE TOWARD AMERICA MoNTFORT MELCHIOR, '02. '"THE twentieth century opens with a continuance of the same * relations between Russia and America that existed at the dawn of the nineteenth century. Russia has ever maintained and still maintains a friendly policy toward America. There has never existed any complications or strained relations between these two colossal nations of the world. In the past her friendly policy has been plainly recognized. Russia was very glad and even anxious to sell' to the United States the territory of Alaska for a mere trifle, in order that she might have some feasible excuse for friendly overtures toward America. She has never been jealous of Amer-ica's expansion; on the other hand has rather encouraged it, seem-ing to say, "You take all you want in the western hemisphere, Cuba or whatever it may be, and wink at me when I grab on the eastern side of the globe, so that we may grow great together." Russia has probably felt the need and desired the aid of Amer-ica in checking the marine domination of England. England's advancement and especially her naval success has always been an eyesore to Russia, and she has smiled with satisfaction at the stride America has taken in rivaling England's marine career. Another evidence of Russia's friendliness was shown when, in the early days of the American empire, she so earnestly desired an embassador from that rising nation. Jefferson, then President, was desirous of establishing a minister at St. Petersburg, but the Senate thought that there were not sufficient reasons for such a policy, and whatever reasons there were they did not justify the extra expense. As a result the proposition was lost, much to the dissatisfaction of Jefferson, to say nothing of Russia. When Mad-ison became President and advocated the same policy, he met a like opposition, but by his obstinate perseverance finally succeeded in winning his point, and John Quiucy Adams was sent as Amer-ica's representative at the Court of the Czar. The personal bear-ing of Adams and his policy in diplomatic relations won the friendship of the Czar himself, as well as that of the whole nation, and to Adams was due much of the friendly bearing of this des-potism to the American Republic* During the civil war of the United States, Russia, if ever, I *MemolrB of J. Q. Adams. TU7WI «■»' ■ii" —'■iiTfiifiri'iiftfrnmirmTtnimiffliimmmiiiiiyiyiiiiiiMiiiiiyiin 28 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY manifested the interest of a firm and loyal friend. At this mo-mentous crisis when all the world favoured and even abetted se-cession or the partition of America, Russia, like the mighty bear she is, gave a murmuring growl of sympathy, and it is fair to say she would have felt little hesitancy in manfully expressing herself, had it been necessary. Russia alone stood out and refused to do aught against the stalwart youth who had developed from the valorous few who dared brave the long dreary years of New Eng-land and Virginian hardship. At the present everything seems to show that Russia still maintains the same attitude toward America, that she always has maintained. Along commercial lines it is to her advantage to keep relations just as friendly as possible, and no less for political reasons. Russia well knows that she can depend on none of the Eurasian countries as a friend, and she feels the sore need of a formidable ally. Her great hope lies in America, and if an alliance could here be formed she would fear no one. In the recent disagreements between the two great continents, Russia always showed ber sympathy to be with the United States. She gloried to see Spain go down under America's powerful arm, and is no less anxious to see the Philippines quieted, and America triumphant over all. Some great man whose name has now escaped our memory, said, a few years ago, that if the whole world became involved in a chaotic state of warfare, Russia and America side by side, or shoulder to shoulder would battle against the world. That, no doubt, has been Russia's opinion exactly. At the present time the partition sooner or later of China seems inevitable. All the European powers have their eyes trained on this vast empire, and are waiting only for a plausible opportunity to jump in and help themselves. Russia is among the foremost of these powers, and right there is where she wants the co-operation of America. If an alliance could be formed between these two nations, then with her own great armies and the civilizing and enlightening agiencies of America the success of her eastern conquests would be certain. Here is where Russia's present attitude toward the old Amer-ican colonies blends into that of the future. We can entertain no doubt but that her policy in the future will be the same that it has been in the past and present. No one can fail to see the immense opportunities and resources of Russia. From the fur-bearing re-wm THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 29 gions on the north to the tropical fruits of the south; from the grain fields and manufactories of the west over the platinum and gold fields of the Ural mountains to the mines oi Siberia, she is provided with all the necessaries of human life. No one can help but see the same wealth of America. Russia has seen and thought of this for years. If these two nations were united commercially and politically, what could they not do ? Let England become unruly. Then let Russia and America close their ports, and say to the rest of the world, "You close yours"—where would Eng-land be in forty-eight hours ? Think of a federation reaching from St. Petersburg to the Ural mountains, from the Ural mountains across the whole continent of Asia to Kamtchatka, from Kamt-chatka across Behring strait to Alaska, or directly aross the Pacific to San Francisco, and from San Francisco across America to New York ! Think of the possibilities of such a union ! And Russia has been thinking about them. She, with all her despotism, is shrewd and quick, and distinctly sees that it is to her advantage to maintain friendly relations with America. Such has been, is, and no doubt will be her attitude toward the old American colonies. As to the United States, nothing is less probable than such advances, but let us ever remember that in Russia we have a firm and ever loyal friend. THE PROPER CARE OF HUMAN LIFE /~\NE of the great mysteries in this world is that of life, and es- ^^ pecially human life. We are told that "God created man in His own image and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life.'' With this view of the origin of human life we have come to regard it as a divine gift placed into our hands for a definite period of time and conditioned upon a proper care and use of it. What constitutes a proper care of human life has never been universally agreed upon, but we believe that the human race is beginning to realize more and more the importance and necessity of a proper care. There are two important phases of this question; first, the care which each individual should have for his own life, and second, the care which he should have for the life of his fellow-men. Every human being shows his care for his own life by observ-ing the laws which pertain to the healthful condition of the body. 30 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY Health is a priceless blessing. It is often called the greatest of blessings; and we are told that without it life has no worth. This language may be too strong, for we have seen those who, amidst infirmity and frequent illness, through force of intellect, and still more through religious principle, devout gratitude and trust, have found life a greater boon than the multitude of the strong and healthy ever dream of. Still, health is an inestimable good, and is essential to the full development and gratification of our powers. Without it life loses its bright charm, and gradually declines by m_vsterious decay. Without it human life falls far short of its true mission in this world. Health and disease are physical conditions upon which pleasure and pain, success and failure, depend. We may also safely consider what is known as self-defense against the violence of human hands, or the brutal attacks of wild beasts, or even the threatenings of the elements of nature as a part of the proper care for one's own life. The man who does not try to preserve his life when he is assaulted by his fellowruan without a cause, or when he is attacked by furious beasts, or when storms, floods, and fire threaten him, surely does not have much of a price set upon that mysterious gift from God. He cares little for his own life who goes through the world unconcerned as to what may befall him and regardless of the fact that he is created with the power and the necessary means for defending his life in very many instances. Then again, it must not be forgotten that there are circum-stances which require that human life must be given up. Our lives have an office for others, to help save and lift up humanity. Who are the men in whom human life seems to be manifested in its brightest glory, who appear best to have fulfilled its end ? They are those who have made the greatest sacrifices for truth, humanity, religion, patriotism and freedom. It is not to those who have watched over and kept their lives, but to those who have cheerfully given them away, that the tribute of reverence and joyful commemoration has been paid. This view of the proper care of human life may be implied in the teaching of Christ—"He that loses his life for my sake shall find it." This, however, re-fers more to the principle of unselfishness in general than to the sacrificing of life. We shall now consider the care which man should have for the life of his fellowmen. In all ages the individual has, in one form Hill! THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 31 or another, been trodden in the dust. In monarchies and aris-tocracies, he has been sacrificed to one or to the few, who, re-garding government as an heirloom in their families, and think-ing of the people as made only to live and die for their glory, have not dreamed that the sovereign power was designed to shield every man, without exception, from wrong. In the ancient republics, the glory of the state, especially conquest, was the end to which the individual was expected to offer himself a victim. It was the glory of the American people, that, in their Declaration of Inde-pendence, they took the ground of the indestructible rights of every human being, and in the Emancipation Proclamation they have given to the world the evidence that they meant what they declared. Indifference to human life is probably at its height in times of war. Such indifference was found in Napoleon when, for the amusement of some mistress of the night, he sacrificed fifty of his soldiers in an escalade which he knew to be positively futile for any military purpose, or in Abdul Hamid when, probably for no other reason than that he feared the downfall of his own power, he sanctioned the horrible massacres in Armenia, or even in our own Civil War, when thousands of men were carelessly sacrificed, both in the north and the south, for the sake of the military glory and fame of certain individuals. The sufferings and death of a single fellowbeing often excite a tender and active compassion, but we hear without emotion of thousands enduring every variety of woe in war. A single mur-der in peace thrills through our frames. The countless murders of war are heard as an amusing tale. The execution of a crimi-nal depresses the mind, and philanthropy is laboring to substitute milder punishments for death. But benevolence has hardly made an effort to snatch from sudden and untimely death the inumer-able victims immolated on the altar of war. Even to-day the voice of those, who forget that they have a care which pertains to the life of their fellowman, is heard in terms of reproach when we seek to avoid war. In most of these cases which I have mentioned there still ex-ist opinions which lead to either extreme. Like many other things of this nature it may be safest to say that the proper care for human life is the golden mean of these extremes. There are circumstances which demand that the right of self-defense be dis- TUrerr-T-T 32 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY placed by the willingness to give up life; that the rights and lib-erties of our fellowman be taken from him for the good of society; and that the government of a country must furnish some of its citizens as victims upon the altar of war, especially when it is car-ried on for the sake of bettering the conditions of the human race-s' EXCHAMGES TT is said that no two minds follow the same channel of thought. A We each have our likes and dislikes and what is attractive to one person may not have the least charm for another. A department entirely devoted to exchange work has recently been added to the MERCURY staff, and the editor takes this oppor-tunity to say that any criticism which may be given in this col-umn will be offered with perfect frankness but with not the slight-est intention of giving offense. We shall try to avoid useless and nonsensical "cutting," which has always reminded us very strongly of the proverbial "feline quarrel," but shall be ready to defend ourselves and our institution as best we can, if occasion demands. Among the exchanges which we have examined, we note the following: The Lafayette of February 8th contains an excellent article on fraternities. We agree with the writer throughout. If the sensi-ble ideas he expresses were followed, the membership of many fraternities would be smaller, but their moral character would undoubtedly be of a higher type. "His Professor" in the February Touchstone displays a bit of the real class-room spirit. The story is interesting and ends in a pleasant manner. The Lesbian Herald is a very welcome exchange—one which we enjoy thoroughly. Its appearance is unpretentious but at-tractive; its arrangement excellent; and its articles in general of a high type. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 33 We could wish that every person who tries to make puns would read the article "Puns and Punsters" in the February Mountaineer. We congratulate Allegheny College on her recent endowment of thirty thousand dollars for the purpose of building a chapel. Other exchanges to be acknowledged are: The Saint John's Collegian, The Western Maryland College Monthly, The Haver ford-ian. The Roanoke Collegian and The Ursimis College Bulletin. In men whom men condemn as ill I find so much of goodness still ; In men whom men pronounce divine I find so much of sin and blot, I hesitate to draw a line Between the two, where God has not. Burns and Byron—MmER. In battle or business, whatever the game, In law or in love, it is ever the same; In struggle for power, or the scramble for pelf, Let this be your motto: Rely on yourself! For whether the prize be a ribbon or throne, The victor is he who can "go it alone." -SAXB. c*p The very power that molds a tear And bids it trickle from its source, That power preserves the earth a sphere And guides the planets in their course. —ROGERS. uu> PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. C R. SOLT MERCHANT TAILOR Masonic Bldg., GETTYSBURG Our collection of Woolens for the coming- Fall and "Winter season cannot be surpassed for variety, attractive designs and g-eneral completeness. The latest styles of fashionable novelties in the most approved shades. Staples of exceptional merit, value and wearing durability. Also altering-, repairing, dj-eing and scouring at moderate prices. .FOR UP-TO-DATE. Clothing, Hats, Shoes, And Men's Furnishing- Goods, go to I. HALLEM'S MAMMOTH CLOTHING HOUSE, Chambersburg St., GETTYSBURG, PA. ESTABLISHED 1867 BY ALLEN WALTON. ALLEN K. WALTON, President and Treasurer. ROBT. J. WALTON, I Superintendent. flummelstooin Bromn Stone Company Quarrymen and Manufacturers of Building Stone, Sawed Flagging and Tile Waltonvllle, Dauphin Co., Pa. Contractors for all kinds of Telegraph and Express Address. Cut Stone Work. BROWNSTONE, PA. Parties visiting the Quarries will leave cars at Brownstone Station on the P. & R. R. R. For a nice sweet loaf of Bread call on J. RAMER Baker of Bread and Fancy Cakes, GETTYSBURG. PA. EIMER & AMEND, Manufacturers and Importers of Chemicals and Chemical Apparatus 205, 207, 209 and 211 Third Avenue, Corner 18th Street NEW YORK. Finest Bohemian and German Glassware, Royal Berlin and Meissen Porcelain, Pure Hammered Platinum, Balances and Weights. Zeiss Mi-croscopes and Bacteriological Apparatus; Chemical Pure Acids and Assay Goods. SCOTT PAPER COMPANY MAKERS OF FINE TOILET PAPER 7th and Greenwood Ave. PHILADELPHIA -■ ■'■'■HI"!'" ! GETTYSBURG COLLEGE LIBRARY GETTYSBURG, \.

Issue 57.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1998. ; f,or relig i ous C~sfian Heritages and Cont~empora~ Living MAY-JUNE 1998 ¯ VOLUME 57 ¯ NUMBER 3 Review for Religious is a forum for shared reflection on the lived experience of all wl~o find that the church's rich ¯ heritages of spirituality support their personal and apostolic Christian lives. The articles in the journal are meant to be informative, practical, historical, or inspirational, written from a tbeological or spiritual or sometimes canonical point of view. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: FOPPEMA@SLU.EDU Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondeuce with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ° St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP 1150 Cedar Cove Road ¯ Henderson, NC 27536 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©1998 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming $3 Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough°OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read James and Joan Felling Kathryn Richards FSP Joel Rippinger OSB Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla sJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Chr~s6an Heritages and Contemporary L~v~ng MAY-JUNE 1998 ¯ VOLUME 57 ¯ NUMBER 3 contents 230 247 responding to the spirit Journey Inward, Journey Outward: ATheology of Call Gregory J. Polan OSB brings together personal experience and patterned scriptural examples in discussing the mystery of vocation. An Itinerant Approach to Theological Updating Marie Chiodo DW and Mary Irving SSND set forth a four-stage process used in one province's theological updating. 26O 275 celibacy and sexuality Calling Forth a Healthy Chaste Life Donald J. Goergen OP considers various aspects of sexuality and celibacy that contribute to a healthily centered religious life. Skills Needed for Celibacy Martin Pable OFMCap focuses on celibacy as a set of behavioral skills by which people can assess their own (and candidates') actual living of the charism. Review for Religious 286 299 finding God The Books That Led Ignatius to God Joseph N. Tylenda SJ presents Ignatius Loyola as an example of spiritual reading bringing about a lifelong conversion. The Desert as Spiritual Landscape Dennis J. Billy CSSR finds in a desert sojourn risk, humbling reality, and whispers of hope. 304 report Women Religious and Sexual Trauma Paul N. Duckro, John T. Chibnall, and M. Ann Wolf present summary data from their extensive survey on this sdrious and sensitive topic and offer some pertinent reflections. departments 228 Prisms 314 Canonical Counsel: The Evangelical Counsel of Poverty 320 Book Reviews ~Ylay-June 1998 The Spirit is God's mark of ownership on you. le on a recent visit to South Africa, I noticed how often automobiles have distinguishing num-bers, letters, or symbols painted boldly on their doors and even on their rooftops. I came to realize that these signs are not just expressions of beauty or individuality, but they provide a visible way of claiming ownership and discour-aging carjacking or thievery. St. Paul exhorted the members of his Christian com-munities to rejoice because the Spirit is God's mark of ownership over them. As we celebrate Pentecost in this year dedicated to the Holy Spirit, we may have a certain longing for tongues of fire as a vivid experience of the Spirit's presence and power in our lives. But I wonder whether today we in the Christian community seize the opportunity to welcome the gripping--though common-place-- idea of the Spirit as God's ownership. We own things, but we do not like to think of ourselves as being owned, even by God. We want to think of ourselves as autonomous, free, in charge of our own fate. Sometimes, though, we may admit to ourselves how much we have bought into (or, perhaps more correctly, "been bought by") the values of our culture, the prejudices of our eth-nic groups, and the political assumptions of our times. We are likely owned in many more ways than we care to discover--and we may show it by the way we live! Perhaps, then, we need to work at making our lives belong more visibly to God. Our Pentecost experience may not include rushing wind or fiery tongues, but the presence of the Spirit in our lives is still meant to be--as in Paul's communities-- the mark of God's ownership. Sometimes we too facilely identify the church as a hierarchical church or, more in Review for Religious vogue today, a church of the laity. But the truest reality is that the church is one people assembled, all belonging to the Spirit, marked with God's ownership. Living this reality consciously is part of our personal efforts in preparing for the millennium. Our personal witnessing of this reality is central to our evangelizing efforts, more necessary in the secularizing trends of our times than in Paul's Roman Empire days. What does God's ownership mean for us? God's ownership of us, marked by the presence of the Spirit in our lives, is meant to shine out in our way of acting. The traditional expression is "giving glory to God." Giving glory means that we become trans-parent enough that God and God's life and God's love can shine out through us. For example--to draw from the everyday behav-iors suggested by St. Paul--the way we talk. St. Paul stresses that a person marked by the Spirit speaks only helpful words, words that build up and provide for what is needed. It is how Jesus speaks. What we say should do good for those who hear us. Beyond our words, what can distinguish our dealings with peo-ple- the occasions for God's glory to shine out in us--is our kind-ness and our readiness to forgive. It is how Jesus acted. At a time in our world when massacres of Christians by Christians take place in Rwanda and Burundi, when fellow Christians seek revenge for age-old wrongs in Northern Ireland, when Orthodox, Catholic, and Muslim (all believers in the one God) slaughter one another in ethnic feuds, we can rightly won-der about our welcoming God's Spirit as a mark of God's ownership over us. But let us look into our own mirrors. When everyday human interaction includes ourselves as automobile drivers whose road rage leads us to endanger others, when we "good people" con-tinue to flee from neighborhoods that are in the process of racial integration, when we find ourselves hardened to the reality of abor-tion and assisted suicide, we can question whether we as individu-als and as communities have allowed the Spirit enough welcome to dwell within us, whether God's ownership of us shines out. In an engaging childlike way, St. Paul exhorted the early Christians not to make the Spirit sad. As we celebrate this year specially dedicated to the Spirit, we need to assess whether our Christian living shows forth God's ownership. Or do we make the Spirit sad? David L. Fleming SJ May-June 1998 229 GREGORY J. POLAN Journey Inward, Journey Outward: A Theology of Call 230 As someone who has studied the Scriptures for a number of years, I find reflection on a theology of call particu-larly interesting for several reasons. First, there is much to be said from the perspective of the Scriptures, from Abraham and Moses in the Hebrew Scriptures to Mary and Paul in the Christian Scriptures. Second, as rector of a college seminary for almost a decade, as spiritual direc-tor to both men and women religious over the years, and now as abbot of a Benedictine community, I have been privileged to hear stories of divine in-breaking in the lives of many people--stories as varied as the people who revealed them and as similar as the human nature we all have. The beauty and sacredness of these accounts tell of divine and human communion struggling to express itself in words, yet unable to relate its richness fully. And, third, something within me longs to continue the search for a deeper understanding of my own call and its meaning, past, present, and future. Those who help others discern their call should know well, understand fully, and discover anew the source of their own calling. The vocational story of each person is sacred; it is rich in faith. Our growth in faith should enable Gregory J. Polan OSB, the abbot of Conception Abbey, teaches courses in Scripture at Conception Seminary College and serves on the editorial board of The Bible Today. His mailing address is Conception Abbey; Conception, Missouri 64433. Review for Religious us to see with new eyes what God was choreographing in our first encounters .with the divine. The episodes of divine in-breaking in our own lives should say more to us now than they did thirty, twenty, or ten years ago or maybe just a year ago. The mystery of God's plan in our lives can be a source of strength and hope, of deepened faith and commitment, of renewed zeal and joyful response, of serious reflection and lighthearted humor for us and for others. Thus, the experience of renewing our call can be both a journey inward and a journey outward. I would like to consider some of the major call narratives of the Scriptures from a form-critical perspective, then move to a consideration of their meaning in our own lives by reflecting on their theological significance, and, finally, consider their rele-vance in the lives of candidates who come to us in our roles as vocation directors or directors of formation. Though these remarks are directed primarily to those who help candidates dis-cern a vocation to the ordained ministry or religious life, they may also help all who seek to rediscover the roots of their calling and to discern God's will in their lives. A Form-Critical View of Biblical Call Narratives For at least ten years, biblical scholars have been challeng-ing the practices of the historical-critical method of scriptural exegesis and showing its limitations. Solid scholarship has warned us about paying too much homage to historical criticism. It is not dead; it is just not the god some had made it out to be. Bringing different questions to the text for our topic at hand, I have found form criticism particularly helpful. Form criticism considers the oral transmission of a tradition and attempts to discover the life situation from which it arose. One aspect of form criticism has been neglected: its potential for revealing a theological message in a text. One effort of form crit-ics is to see a common pattern of thought among texts. Such a pattern reveals the manner in which a text unfolds in a topical, nearly thematic, presentation. For example, in laments of the Psalter, the thought pattern is rather consistent: The speaker (1) makes a plea for divine assistance, (2) describes the situation that causes distress and (3) tells God why divine assistance is needed, (4) then expresses a certain trust that God will heed the request, and, finally, (5) makes a promise to God or acknowledges deliv- May-June 1998 Polan ¯ Journey Inward, Journey Outward There are significant repercussions not only for the one being called, but for others as well. erance from other distressing situations. With remarkable con-sistency this pattern runs through the laments of the Psalter. But discovering the pattern is not the place to stop. There is more to be said, particularly on a theological level. What is the theological significance? How is it that our ances-tors in the faith followed such a pattern to express their need for divine assistance? Is there something in the human spirit that rec-ognizes these elements as essential when a person comes before God in a time of need? I suggest that, more than simple ancient conventions, the elements reveal to us something deep in the experience of the human-divine dialogue. The pattern is a perceptive sketch of the mystery of faith found in a particular kind of human expe-rience. "The Form and Significance of the Call Narrad;ces," a 1965 article by Norman Habel of Concordia Seminary in St. Louis, distinguishes a pattern found in several call narratives of the Old Testament: ~ 1. The divine confrontation. God or a divine messenger enters the scene. It is clear that a divine encounter is to take place. 2. The introductory word. A particular preparatory or explana-tory statement sets the scene further. It can be a greeting or a few clarifying words. 3. The commission. Next the person receives a direct command or imperative relating the task that lies ahead. 4. The objection. Invariably, there is a negative. The person shrinks from what seems to be an overwhelming task. 5. The reassurance. God (or the messenger) responds immedi-ately, assuring the person that the task will not have to be accom-plished alone; divine assistance will be on hand. 6. The sign. Though not every call narrative includes a sign, several do. In a sense, the sign continues the assurance of number 5 by guaranteeing that the promise God has made will be carried out. The divine word is faithful. I would like to illustrate the elements of this pattern, first revisiting biblical scenes and then relating them to our own sense of call and our work with candidates for the seminary and religious life.2 Review for Religious The Divine Confrontation (Scene 1) The biblical scene. Key to the significance of the opening scene is that God is breaking into ordinary life in an extraordinary way. The cattle-herder Amos tells of "being snatched away" from car-ing for his herd and being told to "go and prophesy" to neighbors who are at civil war with his own people (Am 7:15). In some mys-terious way the person being called knows that a divine encounter has taken place. The prophet Ezekiel is sitting by the river Chebar in Babylon when he encounters God. He comments, "The hand of the Lord was upon me" (Ezk 1:3). God enters the human scene. A visible manifestation of the divine presence has taken place. Scholars suggest that insistence on direct contact with the divine was seen as necessary for one who stood as mediator between God and other mortal beings) Consistently, the person being called "sees" God or something divine. Isaiah sees "the Lord sit-ting on a throne, high and lofty" (Is 6:1). Jeremiah tells of his experience in "the council of the Lord" (Jr 23:18). When the priests and prophets of the temple say Jeremiah deserves death for his harsh condemnation of the temple, he responds, "The Lord sent me to prophesy against this house and this city all the words you have heard . As for me,here I am in your hands. Do with me as seems good and right to you" (Jr 26:12, 14). The words are not Jeremiah's. He is a mouthpiece for God. What is important for our reflectiofi is that the call scene is of divine origin. And in each case, because God is acting, there are significant repercussions not only for the one being called, but for others as well. The divine confrontation situates an event of great importance for those who hear or read about the one called. Consider the divine confrontation in the call of Mary of Nazareth. At a critical moment in the history of salvation, God enters the scene through an angelic messenger--the divine presence is essen-tial. It signals a turning point, not only for the person receiving the call, but also for others--here, the whole human race. To support the significance of the divine origin and its impact, we need only ask how the Book of Jeremiah ever came to enter the canon of Scriptures. Its message from beginning to end (with rare moments of hope) is gloom and doom, suffering and pain. Why would such a message be reverenced as a measuring rod of the faith of Israel and the church? I suggest it was because of the con-viction that the prophet was visited by God, and the message he Mlay-June 1998 Polan ¯ ~ourney Inward, Journey Outward delivered, harsh and biting as it was, was true. The community of faith deemed it authentic, of divine origin. For the vocation director. Divine intervention is sometimes dif-ficult for us to express in words. Yet it is an important, even essen-tial, experience for each of us to examine. I dare say God is never more clearly God than when we experience divine presence and know we have been called. For Isaiah it was being in the pres-ence of the wholly/Holy Other (Is 6:35). While it need not be a "bolt of lightning," an encounter of "otherness" reveals divine in-breaking. And, if we take the Scriptures as our norm, it is the wholly/Holy Other who has called us. What remains is to dig deep within, to recover the moment or moments, to claim them as sacred, and to struggle to wrap words around what will never be adequately expressed. One of my favorite spiritual writers, Maria Boulding, speaks of divine encounter with eloquence and simplicity: "We live very close to a mysterious presence. God is 'nearer to me than I am to myself,' as St. Augustine put it, but we do not see or understand him. God is utterly mysterious, and strangely gentle. When he makes himself known we are confounded, yet at the heart of our bewilderment there is a sense of recognizing something we have always known. There is nothing else quite like it in our whole experience."4 It has been important for me to return to the moments of my call and see them in their stark simplicity. This return has awak-ened in me both a sense of the seriousness of the divine call in my life and a daily awareness of the divine presence steering me toward fuller, more joyful and faithful responses to everything around me. I have come to see how it was that God called me in my utter weakness, in my fears, in my doubts, in my naivet~, in my immaturity, and even in my sinfulness. God called me beyond those self-absorbing concerns and into new life. And as I con-tinue to return to themoments of God's call, an understanding of the meaning of divine visitation becomes fuller, brighter, and deeper. For the candidate. In A Touch of G~d, Dom Philip Jebb tells a personal story of an experience early in his religious life. It speaks to this point rather well: After a period of almost delirious joy in my praying, I had an experience of annihilation: I felt that I was being sucked into a "black hole." It was a positive experience of noth- Review for Religious ingness. It was the most horrific experience I have ever had: I seemed to be teetering on the edge of becoming nothing. This was not physical, it was not precisely in the mind, it was in the spirit, in the very roots of my being. I went to Dom Leander in a real terror, feeling that at any moment I was going not only out of my mind, but out of existence. And, when I told him of it in words of panic and despera-tion, he replied, "This is marvelous! The best thing that could happen to you; I only wish I were there with you in this." And I said, "If you can say that, then you have no comprehension of what I am talking about." He assured me that he did, and that I was experiencing the infinity and total otherness of God. In prayer we keep making concepts or ideas of God, and then making these into God, but, as we remain faithful to God and God to us, he has to break out of everything that appears to contain him, the bottom has to drop out of the world and the effect appears to be one of annihilation . It was at this time that I wrote a poem which begins, "Wonder is so sudden a gift.''s More than a few times in my experience as spiritual director, as seminary rector, and even now as abbot, someone has come to me in tears with a story similar in its horror but unique in its description. It is important that we be alert to the circuitous and mysterious paths God takes in human experience. Though so often it is God who provides the tender and gentle reminder of divine compassion amidst the assaults on our spirit, here it is the human director who responsively and kindly helps the struggling person understand that encounters with the divine often entail a night like Jacob's--who was afterward renamed Israel (Gn 32:22- 32). But, unless our own experience of the divine is close at hand, we risk missing the signs of a turning point, a moment of grace, a transition, an experience of conversion in the life of the candi-date. The Introductory Word (Scene 2) The biblical scene. The introductory word is important because it establishes a relationship between the human person and God. Here the person's importance before God is made clear. The word to the great unknown prophet of Second Isaiah was a promise of a covenant renewed in comfort and forgiveness (Is 40:1-3). For Mary of Nazareth, God's own delight in her is expressed: you are the "favored one; the Lord is with you" (Lk 1:28). Mary is indeed May-June 1998 Polan ¯ Journey Inward, Journey Outward special among God's people. Jeremiah is told that, before he was formed in his mother's womb, he was set apart to share in a divine mission (Jr 1:5). The introductory word makes the person receptive to the divine word that will come. It says that the divine choice is pre-ceded by divine love.6 The election to a special vocation comes, not because of talent or giftedness first, but out of divine love. Divine delight impels God to call the person to share in the salvific and redemptive plan. Here the word of God informs the person that he or she has a relationship with God that has been and is touched by blessing. Like God's constant and watchful love for Israel through desert wanderings and times of infidelity is the same divine love ever accompanying the recipient of God's call. The divine word is present in fidelity, in the assurance that God's justice--that is, right relationship--has inaugurated communion even before the commission is announced. For the vocation director. Whatever we hear in the Scriptures, even in the most obscure passages, tells us "who we are in rela-tionship to God." As with the introductory word of our call-nar-rative pattern, so the Scriptures constantly tell how God chooses to become one with us in all ages and times. Even in the harsh judgments given to Jeremiah to proclaim, we are reminded that God knows Israel's destruction is a prelude to its being rebuilt and renewed (Jr 1:10). In Hosea's suffering with his unfaithful wife, we are reminded not so much of human infidelity as of God's desire for healing and the restoration of a relationship of mutual intimacy and communion (Ho 2:21-2 3; NRSV). The introductory word or the call narrative is a sacrament of the divine word, the whole of Scripture. It is the font of truth and wisdom that reveals our truest identity. For those of us who are involved in the work of formation and discernment, God's word carl be the surest source of daily nourishment, satisfying and building up an inner vitality. For us who have experienced a call and responded to it, the divine word unfolds an ever deepening realization of "who we are" and "what we are to become" before God. By our attentive listening to the word of God, our awareness of God's voice in our daily lives is heightened and sensitized. A favorite passage of mine which strongly witnesses to such attentive listening comes at the end of the Book of Deuteronomy. As the people stand ready to cross over the .Jordan, their leader Moses says, as part of his final words to them: "This commandment that I enjoin on you today is not too Review for Religious hard for you, nor is it too far away. It is not in heaven, that you should say, 'Who will go up to heaven for us and get it for us that we may hear it and observe it?' Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, 'Who will cross to the other side of the sea for us and get it for us, so that we may hear it and observe it?' No, the word is very near to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart; you have only to carry it out" (Dt 30:11-14). If we choose to be a people of the word, the word will trans-form us by its inherent power. In that power we will come to the deepest sense of our own identity and, importantly, the rich identity of every per-son created by God. For the candidate. In recent years I have been struck by the pastoral sensitivity of one of the members of the hierarchy, Cardinal Carlo Maria Martini sJ. In 1979 he was appointed archbishop of Milan. Before that, he had been rector of the Pontifical Biblical Institute (1969-1978) and of the Gregorian University (1978- 1979) in Rome. He is a man of interna-tional reputation as a biblical scholar, a text critic to be exact. He was a member of a team of five text critics (and the only Catholic) that prepared the most up-to-date critical edition of the Greek New Testament, In Milan he inaugurated a program of spiritual renewal for the young adults of the city. He met with them weekly to read and discuss the Scriptures, dealing with a particular book of the Bible or a biblical theme.7 Martini always began with a brief explanation of the texts under consideration; but after this presentation it was time for the young adults to talk, to ask ques-tions, and to pray from the Scriptures--to be formed according to the word of God. I would like to suggest that, in this era after the Second Vatican Council, we use the Scriptures with ever greater convic-tion as our document of faith in the work of formation. From cover to cover the Bible tells us time and time again what I con-sider essential for the experience of formation: (1) our identity in relationship to God, the divine-human relationship moving toward communion; (2) the continuous call to conversion, the need for the sinner to return to God; and (3) the meaning of the paschal mystery, our union with Christ in the experience of suf- The introductory word or the call narrative is a sacrament of the whole of Scripture. 2Vlay-June 1998 Polan ¯ Journey Inward, Journey Outward fering, dying, and rising to new life. In a time when our candidates suffer deprivation of Catholic culture, we can use the divine word to get them rooted in the reality of God's steadfast love for them and aware of the offer of redemption which is theirs and ours each day. The Commission and the Objection (Scenes 3 and 4) The biblical scene. At the moment when God gives the imper-ative, there is a sharp demarcation between the past and future of the one being called. A new course is being charted. The com-mission from God encapsulates the task that lies ahead. There is a clear sense that the one being commissioned goes in the name of God, as a kind of ambassador--not to give his or her own word, his or her own decision, but God's. The mission is a divine one; and, fittingly, it is the challenge of a lifetime. For Moses, slow of speech, it was to deliver God's command to release the Hebrew slaves. For Amos it was to enter the territory of his enemies and there deliver a condemnatory message. For Isaiah it was to con-tinue speaking God's word, to make the hearts of the people even more sluggish than they were. Mary, the fianc6e of Joseph, was told that she would bear a son who would assume the Davidic throne; she was to be the mother of the Messiah. At this point the narrative moves into a moment of tension. Clearly, the task is beyond the person's immediate or native capa-bilities. The task is so different that the commission becomes life-altering. The cattle-herder Amos will become an orator. The tender of flocks, Moses, is to be a political mediator. The priest Ezekiel will assume the role of a prophet. Because of this mis-sion, life will no longer be as it was. By their words and their lives, those being commissioned will witness to God's inteiwention in the history of their people. It is no exaggeration to say that the commission informs the persons that the call has an impact beyond their own life and will touch the lives of the people to whom they belong. It has an impact on the history of God's peo-ple. These people will be living reminders of what God is doing at what appears to be "the turn of the ages." Two scenes that tell of the impact of the commission on the lives of the prophets stand out in my mind. Isaiah had two sons. Each was given a symbolic name to tell the people what God intended to do. One son was called Shear-yashub (Is 7:3), which Review for Religious means "a remnant shall remain." The other son was called Maher-shalal- hash-baz (Is 8:1), which means "quick the spoil, speedy the plunder." Both names tell of an impending doom. In the Scriptures, names are linked to people's identity and mission. The sons of Isaiah reminded him that he was to tell the nation of Judah, "You are damned"--so life-altering was the call to Isaiah! A second scene comes from the confessions of the prophet Jeremiah. In the prophetic literature we rarely glimpse the prophetic experience; what we are given is the words, the utter-ances of the prophets, In the confessions of Jeremiah, however, we have a rare insight into the challenge this prophet faced. Consider this passage: "O Lord, you have enticed me, and I was enticed; you have overpowered me, and you have prevailed. I have become a laughingstock all day long; everyone mocks me. For whenever I speak I must cry out, I must shout, 'Violence and destruction!' For the word of the Lord has become for me a reproach and deri-sion all day long. If I say, 'I will not mention him, or speak any more in his name,' Then within me there is something like a burning fire shut up within my bones; I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot" (Jr 20:7-9). Jeremiah says that the mission entrusted to him has brought him nothing but rejection, hatred, and mockery. So he resolves not to speak the words God gives him. But then that very word becomes a raging fire within him; he cannot but utter the message God has given him. He is impelled and driven to accomplish the mission given to him. Both of these passages supplement the com-mission given to the prophet in the call narrative and help us bet-ter appreciate the demands of God's task. Not surprisingly, the person receiving the commission always shrinks from so enormous a challenge. It is difficult to say with certainty where the objection stems from. Some suggest that humility or a sense of inadequacy is the reason: Who would not shrink from the duty of being God's agent?8 The examples drawn from Isaiah and Jeremiah are, in psychological terms, occasions when a person submerges his or her own ego in order to repre-sent or live for another. We may classify such behavior as some-thing unhealthy and odious, but it nevertheless emerges from the biblical text as an example of the personal dynamics involved in the commission and the subsequent objection. Furthermore, it tells us something of what our ancestors in the faith realized when God made total claim upon their lives. May-June 1998 Polan ¯ Journey Inward, Journey Outward For the vocation director. Most of us could tell a compelling story of how the experience of call or the living-out of that call yanked us from something comfortable into something challeng-ing and new. And yet such life-seasoning in the priesthood or religious life has probably brought us considerable blessing to balance the challenge. But there is another aspect of the commis-sion- objection experience we sometimes take for granted: how the response of one has an impact on the destiny of many. We can, at times, become so caught up in what we are doing or how we are responding that we fail to realize that God is in the midst of our activity and that our work for the gospel is having an effect far more sweeping than we can see or realize. We call this phe-nomenon corporate personality from the perspective of the Hebrew Scriptures, and Body of Christ in the Christian Scriptures. We are more intimately bound to one another than we can com-prehend. As the sin of one affects others, so also does the good-ness of one have a ripple effect. And the Scriptures tell us powerfully how the destinies of many are affected by the response in obedience to God's invitation. In Genesis 12:1 God calls Abram to go from his country, his relatives, and his immediate family to a land that will be pointed out to him. Then in Genesis 12:4 the terse description of his response is potent: "So Abram went as the Lord had told him." The text is concise, not because there was nothing to say about the experience, but because the obedi-ence of one with an unknown future was to be the very founda-tion of a people yet to be created--but it started here. The fiat of Mary is another powerful example: theyes of an unassuming young woman set in motion the final eschatological age, the inaugura-tion of the end times. Reflection on such experience in our own lives reveals how our "journey inward" w!ll direct our "journey outward." Consistently in the Scriptures we see how a call by God sends a person on that inward search to respond, to assess the situation, to weigh the daunting challenge. An affirmative response then sets off another dynamic movement. The inward journey then--by divine design, I believe--attaches a person ever more closely to the human fam-ily, to the faith community, to yet unknown persons who will be touched by a faith-filled fiat. In ways mysterious, we become agents of the divine, touching the lives of others by following the call we have received. For the candidate. Some time ago I was struck by the promo- Review for Religious tion materials of a college seminary which promised its students all kinds of benefits: numerous majors from which to choose, big-city life with its hustle and bustle, and high-tech opportunities. Is this what should attract a candidate to the seminary or a religious community? What occurs to me is that, if we are assisting adult men and women in their discernment of God's call, our biblical tradition tells us that we had better be honest in telling them what the divine in-breaking in their lives will bring. Certainly there are rich benefits in responding to the call. There are joys in God's service that cannot be purchased--they are of divine giving. But real challenges lie ahead demanding personal sacrifice of con-siderable magnitude. Further, there are the "nuts and bolts" of what we mean by vocation, by being called. I have to distinguish between my vocation and my career. In essence, as a Benedictine monk I am called to live under a Rule and an abbot, to live in community and where I witness to the meaning of the paschal mystery. This is my vocation. My pre-vious work as rector of a seminary, as teacher, and other things I do are secondary; they are, for want of a better word, my career. And the works of my community are secondary to the essence of our life together. For those who belong to religious communi-ties, getting back to our roots, understanding our charisms, and witnessing to the reasons why we followed the call of God are essential. Those who come to stay with us as they discern God's call will see who we are from only one perspective, from a limited view. They need to receive honest answers to their questions about religious life. We must not promise them anything other than what the gospel promises. Are they in love with the Word they are called to preach and teach and live? Can they happily encourage all to realize their potential in the community of faith, and so assist in building a church of living stones? Every Christian is called into the paschal mystery. But the call to priesthood or religious life is a unique entry into that mys-tery- not better, but special because of its demands. As a novice, I remember, I had a certain fascination with the person of Dietrich Bonhoeffer and an appreciation for his writings, especially those from the time of his imprisonment and his personal struggle to return to his native land. In Life Together Bonhoeffer writes of the call each baptized Christian receives: "When Christ calls a person, he bids that individual, 'Come and die.'''9 Those three words, "Come and die," are a mighty challenge. In my experi- May-June 1998 Polan ¯ Journey Inward, Journey Outward ence of working with college-age candidates for the priesthood and monastic life, I see within them the desire to be challenged to live life more generously, more radically, and more distinctively. VChat we have to do is capture their zeal, help them direct it in a positive and healthy way, and challenge them to selfless service. The Reassurance and the Sign (Scenes 5 and 6) The biblical scene. The reassurance is integral to the develop-ment of the pattern in the call narratives, and important as a response to the objection which has been given. Notice that the divine response is particular to the protest, emphasizing that God will be dynamically present in the situation and intimately involved in the endeavor. There is something distinctly symbolic in the way objections are answered in God's call to Gideon, Moses, and Jeremiah. When the negative reaction comes with an excuse explaining why they cannot respond affirmatively, God simply says, "I am indeed with you." In this response we see a hint of the divine name YHWH, "I am," that is to say, "I stake my name on it." In the biblica'l tradition, personal names are intimately tied up with identity and mission. A person receives a new name, and with that change comes a shift in both identity and mission. For example, the name Abram means "exalted father"; the name Abraham means "father of a host of nations." The word of reas-surance from God links the divine identity with the human mis-sion, forging a bond of divine commitment to this human person and the task at hand. Of further importance here is the under-standing that, in the divine reassurance, the person who has received God's call is now impelled, not by feeling, not by self-direction, but by the power of the divine word. God has given to the one who has been called not only a word to establish rela-tionship, not only a commission, but also a word of reassurance. On equal footing with the word of commission is the word of reassurance. Sometimes there is a further elaboration to heighten the prominence of the reassurance, namely, a sign. Sometimes a sign is asked for, as in the case of Gideon. At other times, God gives a sign--to Moses, for example, in the form of wonders he per-forms before Pharaoh, Mary was told that her kinswoman Elizabeth, even in her old age, had conceived a son; the one thought to be barren was now in her sixth month. The sign is a Review for Religious complement to the divine word and brings to light the full assur-ance that God will be true to the promise already given. For the vocation director. One of the things which the call nar-ratives do not tell us is how it all worked out in the end. We know nothing of the final days of some who received calls, like Amos and Ezekiel. However, there are a few glimpses of successes and failures in prophetic voca-tions. Isaiah's word of advice to Hezekiah saved the people when the threat of Assyria's armies foretold ultimate doom (Is 36-39). The wrenching vocation of Hosea found confirmation in the healing of a bro-ken marriage bond. But the vocation of Jeremiah brought him to gaze on the ruin of Jerusalem as he was carried off against his will to Egypt (Jr 40:13-43:7); where Israel had been a slave, Jeremiah was now a captive. The life of Jeremiah came to symbolize the broken and fragmented experience of Israel's history. Somehow, in the mystery of both successes and failures, there is the belief that God's mission is being accomplished and the call was authentic. Our work in vocation ministry embraces the joys of seeing candidates move into community life or become productive ordained ministers, the sorrows of seeing a call declined, and the anxieties about individuals' uncertain futures whether in respond-ing to God's calls or in rejecting them. How important it is for us to realize that our work as vocation directors is part of a larger vocation, a broader calling that is still unfolding. I am reminded of another autobiographical sketch from A Touch of God that speaks to the mystery of vocation. Maria Boulding recalls her appoint-ment to work in formation: At about the time the Second Vatican Council ended, I was appointed novice mistress and held the job for nine years. It was a complex experience. In some ways it was joy: there was all the dynamism of the council; I had a feeling of being fully used, of being in a job where I could give all I had to give; there was the work with people, and some lasting friendships were established. But there was also, especially in the later years, a sharp sense of personal inadequacy for the work. I helped a few people, but others not at all, and I ended up with a general sense of failure. I am heartily Somehow, in the mystery of both successes and failures, there is the belief that God's mission is being accomplished. 2Ylay-~ne 1998 glad that I was taken off the job, although at the time it was wrench, a little death . At the same time I had another experience of great significance. This was the work of the English Benedictine Congregation's theological com-mission, on which I served for years in the production of Consider Your Call and in other enterprises which grew from that. This whole experience has been one of the most enriching of my entire monastic life . The result of all this experience has been that in those years and subsequently the greatest friendships of my life have flowered. I have found a capacity for friendship with many people both inside and outside my own community, gained confidence in my ability to love and to dare a little more to let myself be loved and known. Even when everything seems primed for a perfect way of living out one's call, the blessing we experience is often not the one we anticipated. And when one door seems to close in our face with a shocking slam, another opens on untold blessings, if we will enter it. In our own calling we are invited to live in the faith of the assurance that was once given to us. What lies at the core of that promise is my willingness to live fully, not in my career, but in my vocation, in my calling. This is not to say that the two are not intimately connected; they are, but they are also separate. In our assignments we live part of our "journey outward" by being of service to others. As vocation directors we give of ourselves by offering our wisdom, by letting our story be known, and by direct-ing others as best we can. In whatever we do, when we live out of our calling, our vocation, we give witness to the ground of our committed life. And there we can enrich the lives of others in ways we do not know, for by living in the power of God's word to us we are able to accomplish much. For ibe. candidate. One great challenge in working with voca-tion prospects is the difficulty they have making a commitment. At times I have asked myself: Do I know more students who have committed themselves to trying the seminary, or do I know more who are "sitting, on the fence"? It is a phenomenon of our society and our age that young adults are making commitments later in life. Our own seminarians gasp when I tell them that I entered the novitiate at age twenty. And yet psychologists tell us that our twenties are the years most formative of the pattern of life we live as adults. What can we do? What should we do? To share with our candidates the reassurances and signs of God in our own experiences could be one of the greatest gifts we Review for Religious offer them. Here we speak from a faith that has been tested and proven to be one of our greatest treasures. If we can help our candidates to view life through the lens of faith, they will see an essential ingredient in living their religious or ordained life. Especially in their youth we need to capitalize on their zeal and enthusiasm for trying new ways and seeing from new perspec-tives. I have been pleasantly surprised to discover only later that the times I have challenged seminarians and spiritual advisees to a deeper faith have been the moments that have stuck with them, even haunted them. Our candidates need the experiences we share with them. Allowing others to hear of our circuitous journeys inward and our journey~ outward may be more formative for our candidates than we realize. What the Scriptures tell us of a theology of vocation has roots in personal experiences of God, experiences that are life-altering. Many of us grew up in a time when priests and religious did not talk much about their experience of call. But, when they did, even the slightest glimpse of their response to God's call set us on fire with zeal, enthusiasm, and the desire to follow their example. That the Scriptures reveal the call narratives in a recognizable literary form tells us that our ancestors in the faith saw such stories as deeply formative, not only for the persons called, but for the whole community of faith. They remind us how sacred our own jour-neys of faith are, not only for ourselves, but for others as well. Reflecting on "call" stories continues our own formation and our development of a theology of vocation. When we discover even mere bits of our own story in the pages of the Bible, we give to others a living theology of vocation. And, when we see our lives reflected on the pages of Scripture, we are strengthened to bring that written word to bear on our own lives. What we have come to consider, then,-is that a theology of vocation unites the journey inward, where we discbver the divine resources given us, and the journey outward, where we live selflessly in accord with the divine word that summoned us. Notes l N. Habel, "The Form and Significance of the Call Narratives," ZAW 77 (1965): 297-323. z The following are the classical call narratives in the Scriptures: Moses (Ex 3:1 - 12); Gideon (Jg 6:1-40); Isaiah (Is 6:1-13); Deutero-Isaiah (Is 40:3-8); Jeremiah (Jr 1:4-10); Ezekiel (Ezk 1 : 1-3:11); Hosea (Ho 1-3); Amos (Am 7:10-17); Mary (Lk 1:26-37). Others that can be considered call May-J~ote 1998 scenes but do not follow the usual pattern include: Abraham (Gn 12:1-4); Samuel (1 S 3:1-4:1); Elisha (1 K 19:19-21); Paul (Ga 1:11-24; Acts 9:1- 19; 22:3-16; 26:2-18); Peter (Mt 4:18-22; Mk 1:16-22; Lk 5:1-11); Matthew (Mt 9:9-13). 3 Habel, "The Form," p. 317. 4 Maria Boulding, The Coming of God (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1982), p. 125. s Philip Jebb, "Wonder Is So Sudden a Gift," in A Touch of God: Eight Monastic Journeys, ed. Maria Boulding (London: SPCK, 1982), p. 7. 6 Gerard Meagher, "The Prophetic Call Narrative," Irish Theological Quarterly 39, no, 2 (1972): 17. 7 A number of these conferences given by Carlo Martini to the young adults of Milan have been translated and published in several volumes; see Carlo Maria Martini, The Joy of the Gospel, trans. James McGrath (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1994). s Habel, "The Form," p. 319. 9 Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together (New York: Harper and Row, Publishers, 1954), p. 8. ,0 Maria Boulding, "A Tapestry, from the Wrong Side," in A Touch of God, pp. 33-35. Antiphon in the Style of Hildegard 0 You who made the sharp shinned hawk with red eyes rend the singing sparrows with the silent slice of death, who fill the sunset sky with roses and crows, who paint the breast of the warbler with flashes of your Spirit and crown the finger small kinglet with your blood, bless me with wonder at the paradox of your plans. Like birds, may my heart's croaks and arias praise You. Anne Higgins DC Review for Religious MARIE CHIODO AND MARY IRVING An Itinerant Approach to Theological Updating As an introduction to their book Toward a Human Worm Order, Gerald and Pat Mische recount a parable, "The Coat That Got Too Small." An outsider had met on a strange planet about a hundred fifty gasping and groaning people with contorted faces. Their coats "were much too small. Buttons and zippers were being strained to the limit and seams threatened to tear at the sides. Their bodies bulged against the overstretched fabric as if the contents had been stuffed in with tremendous effort." In talking with one of the women in the group, the out-sider pointed out: "It's your coat . It's too tight . Maybe you should get a new one that fits you better. It looks like this one has served you in the past, but now it is more like a straitjacket than a coat.". After considerable time., she started, between gasps, to tell me their story. They had had these coats since they were young, she said. It seemed to be the fashion. No one ever questioned it before. Marie Chiodo DW, a member of the provincial board of the United States province of the Daughters of Wisdom and an organizational con-sultant, does facilitation and process and program design with religious congregations and other nonprofit groups. Her address is 416 Branch Drive; Silver Spring, Maryland 20901. E-mail: mchiodo53@aol.com Mary Irving SSND, DMin, served as the itinerant theologian for the Daughters of Wisdom theological renewal process. A consultant in spir-ituality for religious communities, she also teaches and offers retreats and spiritual direction. Her address is 2202 Westview Drive; Silver Spring, Maryland 20910. E-mail: mirvingssnd@juno.com . May-finite 1998 Cbiodo and Irving * Theological Updating "But surely you have grown very much since then," I said incredulously, trying to constrain myself. "But what else is there?" She strained, but went on whenever she could get enough breath to say that she liked this coat. It had, after all, been hers for a very long time. 'Tm used to it now. It makes me feel . " She searched for a long time, looking for breath and for the right word. "Secure," she puffed out at last.I The coats help us picture an individual's or a community's unnecessarily limited theological understanding of self and oth-ers, the world, and God. Christian tradition is passed on through time with the in~ent of bringing Jesus Christ's transforming action to each generation of believers. Yet each era brings new cultural and historical settings. The new experiences and new questions about God and the self, others, and the world that arise in these new settings must be brought into a dialogue with the ancient traditions of the faith. From the 15th century to the 19th, new questions about evan-gelization and the education of the poor were raised by many European Christians, including women who were concerned about the care of the sick poor and the education of poor girls. The result was the establishment of numerous "apostolic" religious congregations, a category unknown till then. Vatican Council II's Gaudium et spes, the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, explicitly addressed the new questions and atti-tudes with which the church needed to engage that world, which had been viewed more as an opponent than a friend. If the Christian tradition and contemporary experience do not regu-larly engage in such dialogue, an individual's or a community's "coat" becomes strained and stretched. This article reviews the efforts of women religious to be free of unnecessarily constrictive theological coats, tells of one province's theological updating, and then offers reflections on these matters. An Historical Perspective on Theological Updating The impetus toward theological updating for United States women religious in the late 1990s is the most recent manifestation of a recurring pattern of the past fifty years. Three major moments will illustrate the pattern. The first moment was the expansion of the Catholic school system in the United States. The need for sisters to teach in the Review for Religious many schools often meant that young women religious were sent out to teach with little if any academic preparation. The 1941 doctoral research of Sister Bertrande Myers DC revealed grave inadequacies in the academic and theological preparation of many United States sisters in the first four decades of the 20th cen-tury. A 1949 presentation to the National Catholic Educational Association on the education of young religious sisters by Sister Madeleva Wolff CSC brought this problem to a wider audience. By 1953 the Sister Formation Conference, led by Sister Mary Emil Penet IHM, had been established to initiate a major project: seeing that new members received college degrees before entering the classroom. This effort was fash-ioned from the beginning with an integrated vision: theological, spiritual, and profes-sional elements were to be present simu.lta-neously in the curriculum. The sisters who were sent for master's and doctoral degrees and the young sisters who benefited from their teaching were the first recipients of updated thinking in both theology and pro-fessional fields,z As this integrated profes-sional, theological, and spiritual formation became standard at the undergraduate level, many sisters went on for degrees in higher education in their fields, but their contin-uing theological and spiritual updating was often overlooked. The second historical moment was brought about by the teachings of the Vatican Council in the 1960s. The Dogmatic Constitution on the Church (Lumen gentium) brought long-for-gotten biblical and sacramental images of the church into focus. The juridical emphasis of the past four hundred years was expanded and deepened by the new prominence given to the bib-lical image of the people of God; the baptismal holiness of the laity was proclaimed once again. The Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World transformed centuries of dichotomy between the church and the world into reverent and realistic openness. These and many other documents--for exam-ple, those on liturgy, religious freedom, and revelation--demon-strated the universal church's own desire to let out theological coats, some of which had remained unchanged for centuries. A pervasive if nebulous spiritual hunger discloses itself in the United States culture generally and in the members of many faith traditions. Cbiodo and Irving ¯ Theological Updating Countless short- and longer-term initiatives surfaced in a variety of, congregational, parish, and educational settings, providing necessary biblical and theological.updating for many sisters. Now, thirty years .after the council, a third moment has arrived. The imminence of the millennium heightens in many congregations an awareness of the need for new theological and spiritual coats for these times. Theology expands and deepens in every area. The modern era in culture has yielded to a postmod-ern one. Scientific discoveries at the micro, macro, planetary, and cosmic levels challenge both theology and spirituality. Societies worldwide move increasingly into an awareness of their inter-connectedness and interdependence. A pervasive if nebulous spir-itual hunger discloses itself in the United States culture generally and in the members of many faith traditions. Women religious, too, find theological and spiritual challenges in this new world as well as in the diminishment of their numbers. Many apostolic congregations of women intuit with faith and hope the need for renewal that will enable them to minister better to today's church and society. Some have already initiated such a process. Looking at this spirit-hungry world, other congregations, chapters, and assemblies are recognizing the need for both theological and spir-itual updating for their members. For many, apostolic work of a theological kind provides the initial impetus. But with this moti-vation comes the realization that a sister's own integrity requires that she look to her own theological and spiritual updating if she is to be credible to others. One Province's Story The United States province of the international congrega-tion of the Daughters of Wisdom responded to the mandate of their general and provincial chapters "to deepen the spirituality of the congregation, in order to allow ourselves to be transformed by Wisdom, so as to live according to Her ways and to reveal Her." Responsibility for the implementation that would lead to theo-logical updating about Wisdom was shared by the leadership team and the membership. Leadership saw its role as, first, to initiate the conversations that would identify and articulate the theolog-ical needs among the sisters and then to put in place the structures to respond to those needs. Together sisters, associates, and lay collaborators would take a good look at their theological coats. Review for Reli~ous They would do so in the light of their personal spiritual experi-ence of the charism, contemporary writers and theologians, and the shared wisdom of the community. The leadership team fash-ioned a process that would engage a planning committee, cluster conveners in several geographic areas, and sisters and laypersons in the search for Wisdom. The province numbers approximately a hundred fifty sisters, mostly on the East Coast. Their diverse ministries include edu-cation, healthcare, religious education, retreat work, and social services. For four years the sisters had participated in faith-shar-ing groups called wisdom circles where they had pursued Wisdom spirituality with associates and other laypersons through books, articles, and prayer together. Threads for refashioning theologi-cal coats were already being spun. Yet the sisters wanted more. Though all of them sought Wisdom, there were conflicting views that involved cherished convictions about God and prayer, Christology, the emerging Sophia/Wisdom spirituality, and fem-inist theologizing. A Theological Education Process A four-stage theological education process was developed that would involve sisters, associates, and ministry colleagues in study, reflection, and dialogue on contemporary theology, church tra-dition, and present world realities. The four stages werd: (1) a think tank, (2) an itinerant theologian, (3) a province gathering, and (4) a year of itinerancy. The Think Tank. Twelve sisters with widely differing approaches to God, prayer, and spirituality were invited to be part of a think tank. Their role was twofold: to find out what the operative theologies were among the sisters and to engage in a weekend of discernment focused on the Wisdom charism. The twelve who agreed to participate in the think tank were given several articles for their study and were asked to interview five randomly chosen sisters in the province about their rela-tionship with God. Interview questions were devised for each to use. In the interviews, conducted by phone or face-to-face, the think-tank participants explored who God has been to the sister, how her ideas of God had or had not changed,.and what she still yearned for in her relationship with God. The interviewers took notes from these interactions and formulated their response to May-June 1998 Cbiodo and Irving ¯ Theological Updating this question: From your interviews, what did you learn about the transformation by Wisdom in the life of our sisters? The twelve expressed awe at what took place during these interviews. Sisters spoke candidly and with deep wisdom about their life journeys. One recurring comment was, "No one has ever asked me these questions in the community." Excitement was generated in the province, such that the discernment week-end was not just for an elite twelve. It would now bear the imprint of the spiritual search of all the sisters. The responses collated from the interviews formed the start-ing point of the work on the weekend. In the course of the two days, the twelve sisters and the leadership team prayed and dia-logued as they struggled with the differing and often conflicting theological understandings among themselves. But most notable was the effort to hear and have a reverence for what others cher-ished in the tradition. The vision statement that emerged from the weekend articulated both our commonly held understanding of Wisdom and the theological diversity regarding Wisdom as Sophia/Wisdom and as the Christ: We are united in our desire for the fullness of God's trans-forming love. Consistent with our Congregational tradi-tion, we see ourselves as seekers of God as Wisdom. We acknowledge and accept that we hold diverse understandings of Wisdom: for example, Eternal and Incarnate Wisdom, Jesus, Christ/Sophia, Sophia. As we seek Wisdom, we remain mutually receptive. It is through dialogue and faith sharing that we claim our own individual experience, cherish the experience of others, and in that engagement enrich each other. In so doing, we com-mit ourselves to the process of transformation by Wisdom. This transformation by Wisdom impels us to active involve-ment in our fractured world. Equally important was the emergence of identifiable theo-logical areas that the community needed to explore together in more depth: Christology, feminist spirituality, Wisdom/Sophia. Finding an Itinerant Theologian. The planning included having one theologian walk with the province for an extended period of time. This would provide consistency in content and process. The term itinerant theologian was thus coined. The theological task was clear: to provide exposure to both traditional and contem-porary theology around the areas identified by the think tank. It was also clear that this was to occur in a climate of reverence for Review for Religious diverse theological positions and of openness to understand posi-tions different from one's own. The leadership team proceeded to identify what it sought in a theologian who would walk with the province over the next eighteen months. Criteria indicated some-one who would engage the province in theological reflection on their experience of God/Wisdom; on someone with breadth of knowledge and vision in regard to traditional and contemporary Christology and Wisdom theology; on someone who would respect the differing positions while inviting all to grow in new understandings of Wisdom; on someone who could integrate theology with spirituality. A tall order indeed! But a necessary one if the province was to continue together the retailoring of its theo-logical coats. The leadership team found a person with the theological education and experience in spiritu-ality. What is more, they found a person who knew how to place the contemporary in the heart of the tradition of the church. The retailoring would involve weaving new threads into appropriate ample fabrics, The province--sisters, associates, and other laypersons--would weave various strands together at the province gathering. The Province Gathering. The theme ~elected was "Touching the Textures of Wisdom." A planning .committee was put in place to work with the results of the think-tank weekend and with the itinerant theologian. They developed a design for the four days of the gathering, with particular attention given to content, process, and ritual around the three themes of Christology, Wisdom, and Women. In the months before the gathering, sisters received the results of the think tank and articles in each of these areas for their study and reflection. The gathering itself provided time for reflection on one's own experience, time for input and ritualizing, time to process its meaning, and time to dialogue with one another and with the itinerant theologian about emerging understandings. The atmo-sphere was conducive to forming new insights about God and Wisdom in such a way that sisters did not feel coerced to change We acknowledge and accept that we hold diverse understandings of Wisdom: for example, Eternal and Incarnate Wisdom, Jesus, Christ/Sophia, Sophia. 253 . iYlay-June 1998 Cbiodo and Irving ¯ Theological U.p~,__tin~ the way they approached God. Yet many said they saw both God and Wisdom with new eyes. The consistency, between traditional and contemporary insights regarding Wisdom wove new theo-logical fabrics for many. These fabrics had patterns of theologi-cal themes which the sisters wanted to examine more closely in the itinerant year. The themes were: ¯ Wisdom Christology in the New Testament ¯ Wisdom and Contemplation of God's Creation ¯ Lady Wisdom in the Old Testament ¯ Sophia Theology ¯ Feminist Theology ¯Julian of Norwich ¯ Liberation Theology. This large group of themes needed to be reduced to a man-ageable number. In the end there were three. "Wisdom in the New Testament" was a top choice of four of the six groups. "Sophia Theology" would involve looking at the emerging under-standing of the Trinity from feminist perspectives on Wisdom. "Creation, Women, and God" was to explore theologies of cre-ation emerging from feminist and ecological perspectives. The six cluster groups were scheduled for the fall of 1996 and the spring of 1997. The year began in St. Agatha, Maine, traveled to Islip, New York, Litchfield, Connecticut, and Portsmouth, Virginia, and concluded in Islip. The Year of Itinerancy. The cluster weekends were open to sisters and to invited lay people. Sisters indicated their first and second choices of topics, and attempts were made to honor choices. Sisters in each geographic area were invited to be cluster conveners. This involved their being in contact with the itinerant theologian, seeing to preparation of prayer and ritual, and basically organizing travel and hospitality for sisters and lay people. Several months before their cluster weekend, sisters received articles and materials for their study and reflection. The itinerant theologian traveled to the various sites to conduct the weekend in much the manner of her work at the province gathering: reflection on experience, theolog-ical input, and time for reflection, interaction, and ritual. The Itinerant Theologian's Reflection on the Year The interrelated themes of charism and community serve as pivotal points around which to structure these reflections. Review for Religious Charism. The charism of seeking after Wisdom, of hunger-ing and thirsting for her, is vibrant in the Daughters of Wisdom. For three hundred years the members have been nourished by St. Louis Marie de Montfort's profound biblical and theological book titled The Love of Eternal Wisdom. The province's participa-tion in wisdom circles was apparent in the July gathering and intensified in the cluster groups. Many biblical passages on Wisdom were old familiar friends. Some sisters had broken ground with new research on Wisdom/Sophia; others continued to find richness in Montfort's articulation of Christ as Eternal Wisdom. All were eager to deepen what they knew, to make con-nections, and to move to the unfamiliar, even when risky. This was as true of the women in their seventies, eighties, and nineties as it was of the newest members. The charism was evident in the prayers developed for the opening of both days of each work-shop. Local sisters prepared and led these prayers with remarkable originality, incorporating Scripture, ritual, guided meditations, and dialogue. The prayers' power each time reinforced the truth that the cluster workshops reverenced both the biblical theology that was being presented and the praying community as equal sources of Wisdom. Community. A community is, at any given historical moment, the living incarnation of its charism. In this time of new scholar-ship on biblical Wisdom, more diversity has surfaced than in pre-vious years. Province members struggled to be faithful to the tradition of Wisdom as it continues to develop theologically and spiritually. Since such struggles intimately involve community, two interrelated goals become central for the entire updating pro-cess: to assist each member to recognize her own Wisdom spiri-tuality and to respect the diverse Wisdom spiritualities of others. The cluster weekends with their smalle~ numbers (averaging twenty sisters and lay participants) allowed a more intensive use of the dynamics of the process. Three components promoted the goals: (1) a historical perspective, (2) theology and spirituality working together, and (3) religious and lay solidarity through baptism. History. A central conviction shaped the presentations in the province gathering and in the cluster workshops: to know history is to grow in freedom. Thusl history was a key factor in the clus-ter workshops. Only recently have biblical studies made possible a coherent look at the Old Testament Wisdom literature and at the May-June 1998 Cbiodo and Irving * Theological Updating Theology assists believers in speaking about the God they believe in; their experience of God's invitation and the response they make is what we call spirituality. influence of Wisdom categories on the New Testament under-standing of Jesus Christ. Only recently has feminist theology explored Wisdom/Sophia as a help in rethinking Christology and Trinitarian theology. Even more recently, Sophia theology is becoming a source for ecological theology. Over and over, the participants expressed gratitude for the historical, biblical, and theological perspectives that allowed them to place their own charism and spirituality in context. Overall, the province gathering and the cluster workshops provided a uni-fying and freeing focus for all mem-bers of the province as they participated in events with a common historical perspective and a common set of biblical, theological, and spiri-tual experiences. The members can now speak across geographical bound-aries with a language which all under-stand. Theology/Spirituality. As charism and community are strands in the reweaving, of our theological coats, so are theologyand spirituality. Theology assists believers in speaking about the God they believe in; their experience of God's invitation and the response they make in their individual and community lives is what we call spirituality. In the gathering and in the cluster work-shops, the act of clarifying historical and contemporary speech about Christ, Wisdom, and women's relationship to God allowed the members of the province to distinguish between speaking about God in theological terms and reflecting on their own and others' experience of and response to God. This crucial clarifi-cation reduced conflict and enhanced the goals of helping each member to understand her own Wisdom spirituality better and to respect the diverse Wisdom spirituality of others. The refash-ioning of theological coats allowed people to breathe more com-fortably in. their own spirituality and their community relationships and to achieve what improved breathing provides: a renewed and healthier life. Unity through Baptism. Most cluster workshops contained pro-fessed sisters, former sisters, associates, .and "Friends of Wisdom": Review for Religious ministry colleagues and others interested in Wisdom. Careful guidelines were developed for invitation. The inviting sister-- after describing, to those who showed interest, the content and proceedings of the July province gathering--distributed the mate-rial to be read and later reflected on in the cluster group. This ori-entation provided a common ground for the cluster experience. Despite differences in life experiences, sisters and laypersons were able to relate to questions and issues that had emerged from the province gathering--this was the reading matter for use in the cluster groups. The energy and richness of the different per-spectives provided a model of an ecclesial community of women where historically rigid boundaries between laywomen and women religious could be reshaped. Their unity as baptized Christians became the pattern of deftly woven fabrics suitable for retailoring theological coats of Wisdom. Learnings. How can this concrete and particularized account of one province's experience of theological updating serve oth-ers who may be embarking on a similar project? What general movements can be gleaned for the benefit of all? How can the theological coats be let out to fit without harming the cloth? Six components of this process contributed to the careful alterations of this province's theological coats. First, this project demonstrated the value of a solid founda-tion. The general chapter's directives provided such a founda-tion. Other groups would need something similar. Second, the project combined clear provincial leadership with respectful attention to the members' theological and spiritual experience. The leadership wisely recognized that it was dealing with adults whose experience (gleaned through the interviews) had indispensable contributions to make to the planning process. This continued as the members of the gathering chose their pre-ferred areas of concentration for the cluster groups. Third, the leadership's commitment to a program that would have a reflective theological/spiritual style allowed participants to pause and deepen what they had learned, rather than over-powering them with more knowledge than they could assimilate; and music and poetry provided powerful alternative ways to inte-grate the material. In all the workshops, the opening prayers set the atmosphere in which the biblical and theological presenta-tions could resonate deeply and reach the whole person. The time provided for dialogue and personal reflection in each cluster group' 2.Y7 . May-ff~une 1998 Chiodo and Irving ¯ Theological Updating helped the participants to integrate the material both personally and communally. Fourth, the mission to spread knowledge and love of Wisdom beyond the congregation is vibrant in this community. The work-shops provided models for the sisters to keep in mind as they dis-cern how to communicate to others their own new appreciation of Wisdom. Fifth, the Daughters of Wisdom have nourished their partic-ular charism for three centuries. It is clear, compelling, and solidly grounded. Many congregations, founded in the 19th-century era of apostolic expansion, lack such clarity. Preliminary tasks for them will include reviewing their Vatican II renewal of their charism in the light, not only of the continuing experience of their members, but also of present theological, spiritual, and apos-tolic conditions. The preliminary time spent in such reformula-tion would be well spent. Finally, this small province chose an itinerant theologian in order to provide unity in presentation and spirit. This decision fit their group and may fit others. Larger congregations and those with different needs and hopes may make other choices. Planning that is attentive to the uniqueness of each group will enable the careful refashioning of theological coats so that members can breathe more freely as they move into the future. Outcomes. What came of all these efforts by one province to update itself theologically and spiritually around its charism? There seemed to be both a personal and a communal response to this question. Many spoke of their wanting to pursue Wisdom/Sophia spir-ituality more deeply in their personal prayer. One lay colleague said, "I have never in all my thirty-five years of knowing the Daughters felt so close to them and so personally enriched." One sister said it was wonderful to "see the interconnectedness between the Scriptures and the Wisdom theology as it developed in the tradition"; another said, "Sophia/Wisdom finally made sense to me." One cluster convener wanted to know what'we would do com-munally to continue the education we had begun. Some want to see more Montfortian.aspects in an ongoing study of Wisdom. One sister on holiday in the states reflected on what she had been hearing from the sisters about the province gathering and the cluster weekends: "Sisters from whom I would never expect it Review for Religious have told me of their deeply moving experiences with Wisdom/Sophia. One 82-year-old said she now prays to Sophia." Our theological coats have been stretched and refashioned with added cloth woven of threads newly spun from prayerful experience and theology and even our worldly surroundings. We have not finished. We bring our renewal in Wisdom spirituality to bear on ministry with the poorest of the poor. What differ-ence will our spiritual search and enlightenment make in terms of how and with whom we will minister? The spinning and the weav-ing and the careful alterations go on! Questions for Your Story. United States women religious have a history in this century of recognizing and responding to the need for theological updating among their members. The few remaining years of this centur~z may provide congregations with opportunities to consider whether they need to refashion their members' theological coats and therefore need some careful plan-ning that reflects their charism, ministry, and spirituality. This article has described one province's effort. As you reflect on it, you may inquire about the implications for your own con-gregation: What are the religious, spiritual, and cultural contexts within which you live today? What do you need to do to prepare yourselves to respond to them? What is your situation? What is the condition of your theological/spiritual coats? Are they need-lessly tight? Beginning to tear? Can you breathe freely? Do they restrict your apostolic effectiveness? These are the questions asked by foundresses centuries ago and by members of United States religious congregations earlier in this century. We who are pres-ent- day members find ourselves with the same questions as we look toward the dawn of a new millennium. The answers we give to the questions are important. Notes 1 Gerald and Patricia Mische, Toward a Human World Order (New York: Paulist Press, 1977), pp. 1-3. 2 Lora Ann Quifionez CDP and Mary Daniel Turner SNDdeN, The Transformation of American Sister~ (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1992), documents this first "moment" in the firstchapter, "Changing Times," pp. 3-30. May-June 1998 DONALD J. GOERGEN 260 Calling Forth a Healthy Chaste Life We often hear about being centered and about centering prayer; we hear, too, about wholeness. Centeredness and wholeness go together. Thus we cannot talk properly about how chastity and sexuality are integrated into the entire human person without first having a sense of our center. Otherwise we are off to a false start. As a sage once said, "There's no point in going fast if you're headed in the wrong direction." We want to be sure we are headed in the right direction. Provinces and congregations are concerned about mission statements and vision statements because they give us a focus and clarity about ourselves. Centering likewise gives u~ focus and clarity. Centering is not simply something that we do for our-selves personally, but something that we do for our com-munity or congregation as well. Centering is one of the main tasks of leadership. Without it, how could we know we are l~eaded in the right direction, no matter how pro-fessionally we might be equipping ourselves for the jour-ney? And so I ask: What is the center of your community or province's life? What or who is my center? Our center? What or who are we? We have to answer that, or be aware of it, before any talk about chastity, because a healthy chastity is a properly Donald J. Goergen OP, formerly the provincial of the Midwest Province of Dominicans, presented this paper, here somewhat revised, to the Conference of Major Superiors of Men in August 1997. He teaches theology at Aquinas Institute, where he may be addressed: 3642 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. Review for Religious centered or focused sexuality. A sexuality lacking a proper center, or falsely centered, is a distorted sexuality. It is as simple as that-- not as easy as that, but as simple. Now, however we phrase it, given our traditions and charism, we are God-centered people, followers of Jesus, called by Jesus, men and women who have turned our lives over to the gospel. If someone says to me, "Don, do you really believe in celibacy, really see any human value in it?" my response must begin with "Do you believe in God?" For indeed how do I talk about the meaning of chastity as I understand it with someone whose cen-ter in life is altogether different from my own? If the person were to respond, "Yes, I do believe," then my next question might be, "Do you believe in the God of Abraham and Sarah, in a God who calls people forth, calls people to be who they can be and to be servants of humanity?" If they again say yes, we then have some common ground on which to discuss our call and its celibate char-acter. Otherwise we are at a disadvantage in describing what a healthy Christian chastity is all about. When we call to mind who our center is, the One on whom our mission and vision are focused, we realize that this puts us at odds with the society in which we find ourselves. Many of the struggles with sexuality have to do with false attempts to adjust our happiness to the ways or perspectives of today's post-Christian world. Some of the struggles, however, are simply human, and to those we will turn later. Here it is important to differentiate the two. Is the struggle of some member of the province a futile effort to give allegiance to two masters, to try to live out of two centers, to live a continuously divided life? Or is it simply the struggle to be more deeply human as the vulnerable creatures we are? Thus, just as there is a need for us corporately to be God-- or Christ--or Spirit-centered, so there is a need for us not to be centered in our culture or society. In it, yes; centered in it, no. Ministering to it, yes; coopted by it, no. Seeing value in it, signs of God's presence there, yes; blindly idolizing it, no. Any healthy sexuality must begin with being a properly centered sexuality, which is rarely the sexual understanding provided by our secular culture, and often not the sexual understanding provided by rep-resentatives of our church. Being centered, then, also means being countercultural, in this area as in every other area of our reli-gious lives; not going out of our way to find fault with our soci-9£1 May-ff~tne 1998 Goergen ¯ Calling Forth a Healthy Chaste L~ It does us no good to be countercuttural in one area of life alone. ety and culture, but not making them the object of our primary allegiance either. If being healthy and chaste implies a countercultural approach to our sexuality, it also implies being countercultural in all areas of our living. Too often we attempt to shore up a rationale for celibacy by dragging in the countercultural justification. But it does us no good to be countercultural in one area of life alone. This is where poverty, chastity, obedience, community, prayer, mission, and servanthood form a whole tapestry. Is our approach to our sexuality consistent with our approach to life as a whole? What good does it do to be sexually abstinent if we are addicted to work, are first-rate consumers, and enjoy almost all the comforts our society offers us? Can we truly say, then, that our center is in a spir-itual or "evangelical" way of life? The chal-lenge is not how to be both healthy and chaste, but how to be both healthy and countercultural. Does health imply adjust-ment to our sociocultural context? From where or whom do we derive our understanding of a healthy life? Could true health imply "unable to adjust to the demands of a secular world"? What does it mean to be "at home" in a society that is not "at home" with religious values? Now, I am not suggesting that Christianity and secularity are at irreconcilable odds with each other. Indeed, we search for seeds of sacrality in the soil of secularity. Yet secularity in the West does imply a neutrality toward religion that becomes an indiffer-ence to it, often even a hostility or a lack of respect--certainly towards religion as central or essential to social and human life. Secularized living neither values nor structurally supports reli-gion. It may give lip service to spirituality, but more often it favors spiritualities as marketable commodities. We ought :not be naive. And so I return to the question: What is the center, corner-stone, focus of my life and ministry? Of yours? Of your congre-gation or community or province? We must first be healthily centered and go from there. Another way of putting it is to ask: What is the ethos of your community, its atmosphere, character, sense of values? What does it structurally support? Is our way of being sexual consistent with that ethos? Is it sexuality that gets dis- Review for Religious torted, or does our sexuality simply manifest a deeper distortion in our lives: the loss of our center? To what does our congregation give witness? If we merrily go along with consumer society, defend capitalism at all costs, tolerate machismo, smugly see Western civilization as superior to others, and are sexually abstinent, then that is what we give witness to. In that context, sexual abstinence is hardly mean-ingful. One of the responsibilities of leadership is to cultivate a cli-mate, help develop an ethos, sketch out the vision, focus the mem-bership. In what sort of environment is it most likely that the men or women of the community will reach healthy maturity as chaste celibates? What threats are there to such an environment? The Credibility of the Gospel In our search for a healthy celibacy, a chaste sexuality, we must feel deeply that there is something important at stake, some value that gives our way of life meaning. We might each express that differently, but I will call this core value the gospel. I do not mean as such the four Gospels, but the gospel at the heart of the Gospels, the gospel of God that formed the center value in Jesus' own life and mission. Like Paul, we live "for the sake of the gospel" (1 Co 9:23).1 Thus a primary, urgent, felt concern in my own life is the credibility of the gospel, which is nothing other than the credi-bility of the God whom I preach. My witness helps to make it credible; it makes my life credible. This is the rationale for a healthy, culturally contextualized (even if countercultural) chastity. The gospel makes sense of my celibacy, and my celibacy must help to make sense of that gospel in our world, my world, at this period of its history. The gospel itself, of course, does not require celibacy, nor does ordained ministry in itself necessitate celibacy. But religious life does see celibacy as essential to its way of being in the world. As religious we freely choose to be celibate as one dimension of our way of living the gospel. This freely chosen celibacy for the sake of the gospel, then, cannot be taken lightly. It is central to who I am as a witness to the gospel, as a witness of the risen Lord, of the presence and power of the risen Christ and his Spirit in my life. The risen Christ and the Holy Spirit are the source of my May-June 1998 Goergen ¯ Calling Forth a Healthy Chaste Life celibacy, and I at least desire, even in my weakened humanity, to live what I believe. One of the most poignant questions raised by Pope Paul VI in his still unsurpassed apostolic exhortation on evangelization-- which so emphasized witness as the primary form of preaching-- was the question: Do you live what you believe? In fact he raised three questions: It is often said nowadays that the present century thirsts for authenticity. Especially in regard to young people it is said that they have a horror of the artificial or false and that they are searching above all for truth and honesty. These "signs of the times" should find us vigilant. Either tacidy or aloud--but always forcefully--we are being asked: Do you really believe what you are proclaiming? Do you live what you believe? Do you really preach what you live? The witness of life has become more than ever an essential condition for real effectiveness in preaching.' My faith in the resurrection, in the risen Jesus, my own human experiences of the risen Jesus, Jesus' self-presentation to me inviting me to follow him and my response of trust and faith, all these reconstruct me, reorient me, as a human being into being a witness to that grace which has been granted me. By that grace I trust God and God places trust in me. A witness is who I am. I desire never to betray that responsibility, any more than I would wish to betray th.e. most profound friendship given me in life. My witness includes a call to celibacy that I find in my own human experience of God as present to me in this world, Celibacy by itself does not witness to anything. But celibates are witnesses. And so the question is: To what do I give witness? If I am racist, sexist, consumerist, clericalist, arrogant, ambitious, greedy, and sexually abstinent, what I give witness to is racism, greed, male privilege, and sexual abstinence. Celibacy does not give witness, but Francis of Assisi did, and Mother Teresa did, and Cardinal Bernardin did, because the totality of their lives gave witness. Their celibacy made sense only in the context of their lives. And Francis of Assisi's celibacy did not make sense in the context of his world. By merely rational norms any generation would judge him a fool, but Francis's life made sense in the con-text of the gospel. That is the only context that makes sense of our own celibate lives. We are evangelists, not because we are some-how superhuman or something other than human, but because we are convinced that living the gospel is for us a better way to be Review for Religious human. My celibacy is a part of my own humanity and makes me more truly human. It is not necessary for being human, nor nec-essary for living a gospel-centered life, but it does make me to be the human being I am. Without a perspective such as this, there can be no healthy chastity, no freedom, no desire, only fear, only obligation. This is to say, not that living chastely and cslibately is easy, but that it is the only humane way for me to live. Becoming Human Together Beyond the sexuality promoted by the secular culture in which we find ourselves, there is another whole side: mature adult Christian sexuality understood in the context of our total human-ity, with its aspirations, its limitations, its vulnerabilities, its dis-appointments, its joys. We are vulnerable human beings through and through. In my own experience of leader-ship, I learned both how talented and how frag-ile my brothers are. Fragility is not just a matter of misplacing our center, of failing to live from within the depths of our souls, but it is also a matter of what chastity asks of us even when we are centered. It is not easy to be human. A friend of mine likes to say that we are not human beings struggling to be holy, but holy peo-ple struggling to be human. Achieving the deli-cate balance in our lives between the consoling compassionate gentleness of the gospel and its radical challenging demands is not easy, and never achieved or given once and for all. Our vision should be clear, expectations should be high, but our capacity for understanding deep. When there are failures in keeping the vow, the common good makes its demands, but so does the good of the individual human person created and loved by God. Leaders need to be able to distinguish between, on the one hand, some-one who manipulates us, exploits the fraternity or sisterhood or religious family, disregards the reputation of the community, or has been seduced by the false philosophy of our unliberated soci-ety and, on the other hand, the brother or sister who falls short, needs forgiveness, is moving toward deeper integration, and is genuinely caught up with the gospel of Jesus Christ. Here only the one without sin can cast a stone. Does the brother or sister have genuine affection for the com- Celibacy by itself does not witness to anything. May-June 1998 Goergen * Calling Forth a Healthy Chaste Life munity? Are we the source of his or her deepest identity? If so, then the one who is not against us is for us (Lk 9:50), and we give him or her the benefit of the doubt. Chastity is there, and growth in love and commitment to the gospel. If not, we are being used. If someone is stuck in some rationalized disregard for truth, then the one who is not with me is against me (Lk 11:23). Is the per-son genuinely "in the Spirit" or not? I would trust and help any-one grounded in the Spirit. I would help but not trust those who are grounded in their own agenda. Healthy chastity in a sexually saturated, religiously indifferent society is asking for heroism. Unfortunately, to be heroic is the only way we can go. Areas of Specific Concern. There are several areas of particular concern that have an impact on our living a chaste life. I comment on them only briefly here, but they can well be pursued further in community discus-sions. I have one hesitancy. Several years ago I spent several months in India. One thing I learned about India at that time is this: Regarding anything I might say, the opposite is equally true. Accordingly, I am mindful here that I can only raise or emphasize certain points that naturally leave many other points left unsaid. Gender and Individuality There are many reasons, feminist thinking among them, why gender receives much attention today. We have become accus-tomed to distinguishing between sex and gender, sex referring more to the biological aspects of sexual identity, and gender more to the pyschosocial and sociocultural aspects. I want to stress here, however, that individual differences are as important as differ-ences of gender, or even more so. One of the criticisms of Euro-American feminism by third-world feminists is our assumption that such a thing as "women's experience" can speak for all women. Culture, race, and class deeply affect who we are, So does our individuality. I am not speaking here of individuality individualistically understood, but of each one's unique personhood. When dealing with people, we must remember the significance of these individual differences. Men are not all alike. Gay men are not all alike. Black men are not all alike. A major fallacy in many gender studies may be to assume the insignificance of individual differences. Gender is to Review for Religious be understood not so much as two abstract categories into which we place people, but rather as people first of all, whose gender is secondary. Gender must accommodate itself to persons, rather than persons being made to conform to gender stereotypes. There is more than one way to be human, more than one way to be a man, more than one way to be a woman, more than one way to be gay or straight. The question behind gender is not what I am, but who I am. Along with this, let me include my hesitancy--simply a cau-tion- about topics like masculine spirituality, men's groups, and getting in touch with our maleness. Although there can be value in this movement, I am suspicious that it might buy into a misunderstanding of gender wherein my sexual identity becomes dependent upon group consciousness. I am very hesitant to use the word masculinity and give it precise con-tent. How are groups understanding it? With respect to the men's movement, who are the men we are talking about? What is it they have in com-mon? Maleness only? What is the underlying con-cept of masculinity operative in men's groups? Can one deviate from it? How flexible is it? Is there any stereotyping of femininity in such groups? I am not suggesting that there is no value in a men's movement, or in a gathering of males, but I am suggesting that critique is necessary if there is an underlying assumption that all men experience themselves as sexual beings in a common way. If men come together to interact around issues of "soul" and how soul or spirit manifests itself in our sexualities, that is clearly good. If coming together reinforces a sense of "us men," it perpetuates a false understanding of gender. The question behind gender is not what I am, but who I am. Homosexuality There is no question today but that homosexuality plays a significant role in discussions of celibate sexuality. To some degree this is the influence of our social context, of the gay liberation movement on both society and religion. HIV and the tragedy of AIDS also enter into the discussion. Again my comments here are necessarily brief. There is a place for homosexual or gay and lesbian people in religious life. They can be very creative, pastorally compassion-ate, and spiritually sensitive. Homosexuality is not accepted May-June 1998 socially, however, as of equal value to heterosexuality, although it is fairly well acknowledged psychologically that it is not intrinsi-cally pathological. The challenge for us, however, is not only how to screen in order to accept only healthy homosexual men or women and what our expectations of them should be as regards living a chaste life, but also how to clarify for ourselves whether all healthy homosexual or gay people are capable of living a celi-bate communal life. For our purposes here, I will make some distinctions, risky distinctions, but they can clarify discussion. (I refer here specifi-cally to communities of men.) I distinguish between gay men, homosexual men, and closeted men. Religious communities do not benefit from closeted homo-sextiality. I do not mean that men need to be public about their sexuality, a notion that seems to be an odd bane of our period of history. By closeted homosexuals I mean men who are closeted as regards their own selves. That is, they are significantly out of contact with their sexuality and thus unable to accept the degree or kind of homosexuality present in them; as a result, they are men who live in denial and fear and self-hatred. For homosexual men to live in religious communities, they need to be comfortable enough to be unafraid of their homosexuality, and they certainly need to be able to acknowledge who they are to trusted friends. The deeper issue is the distinction I make, for our purposes, between homosexual men and gay men. This is a distinction not ordinarily made in the gay community. There you are either gay or in the closet. But this has led people to make some mistakes, for the word gay is ambiguous and certainly not univocal. It can refer to gay culture or cultures, to people, to styles of life, even to an ethos, a set of beliefs, a movement~ When so .used, it is unhelp-ful for our purposes of discernment or our witness to the gospel. Although a particular "gay" person may very well be called to religious life and ministry, not everything that is gay is compati-ble with religious life. Many styles .of gay life, dimensions of gay cultures, even cofiamonly held assumptions among many gay men, all these may be quite incompatible with our call and our life. Religious life itself is a particular style of life, a particular sub-culture, grounded on certain convictions held in common. Thus I will here use the word homosexual to describe someone whose sexual orientation is predominantly homosexual, but whose deep-est source of identity is not his sexuality but his faith and its Review for Religious accompanying required way of life. A gay person's deepest iden-tity is frequently his sexual identity, or at least his sexual identity has for him a high level of significance. In other words, while it is possible for homosexual men to live and contribute immensely to religious life, the same cannot be naively said of all gay men or even all healthy gay men. If the network of significant relationships that a man feels he must main-tain for the sake of his identity and health is a gay network, then his heart and soul may lie more with the gay community than with a religious community, no matter how many gay men there may be in a religious community. The defining characteristic of a gay community is its sexuality, for a religious community its spirituality. A gay man can be deeply spiritual, and I place here no judgment on the realities of the gay worlds. I am simply saying that, whereas homosexuality is capable of integration into reli-gious life, gay life is not. Where does one's deepest commitment, heart, and soul lie? If one needs to express one's gay identity in the ways encouraged by secular gay life, so be it, but in religious life this cannot be one's defining identity. What I have said should in no way whatsoever be taken as legitimating homophobia or prejudice against homosexual people in religious life or gay and lesbian people in the society at large. Nor is it meant to disparage the legitimate struggles that people encounter as they attempt to mature sexually in religious life. This article is an effort to clarify who we are as religious commu-nities. We are not and never can be communities of gay men, no matter how many homosexual members there may be. We are and must be religious communities. Affectivity I want to underscore the importance of our affective lives. Among men in particular, this can be left undeveloped or its importance minimized. Although, as I said above, Ihave ques-tions about "the men's movement," I think it important that'men find affective support for themselves among their brethren in community and among women religious and other women too. Affective bonds not only sustain us in our lives and ministries. They also help us live the spiritual life deeply. Affective prayer is deeper than reflective prayer, and contemplative prayer even deeper than affective prayer. Affect ordinarily opens up for us deeper recesses of our being and thus allows us to live life more fully, May-June 1998 Goergen ¯ Calling Forth a Healthy Chaste Life beyond dull routine, addictiveness to work, and human bonding that is merely cerebral. If nothing else, our lives must be seen by others as loving, perhaps especially by prospective members. There is both a role for affection and a human need for it. The challenge is to live a balanced, integrated, wholesome life. And balance is not something achieved once and for all, but something regained daily. Life implies movement; perpetual sta-bility is death. Integration implies integrity, which is inner freedom graced by God and constant in pursuit of a worthy quest. There are individual and cultural differences in our affective lives, but the world to which we witness, the brothers and sisters to whom we are joined by profession, are asking us: Do you care? Do you feel? We need examples of affecdve maturity among us. Affective growth has a sexual component to it. Among the major reasons for pur-suing sexual maturity among us are the affective maturity that accompanies it and the increased spiritual maturity as well. Hope and Forgiveness I cannot here go into the complexities, difficulties, and vari-ations of sexual misconduct that we have had to confront in the past ten or fifteen years. I do not want anything I say here to minimize the seriousness of these issues or to lead us to excuse ourselves. Our concerns are for the good of our own members, the common good of our communities, along with our primary con-cern for the victims of abuse at the hands of community members who were occupying positions of trust. For the pastoral care of our members in crisis situations such as these and also for the future health of victims and of perpetrators as well, two things are impor-tant: hope and forgiveness. Whatever one's situation in life and whatever the condition of one's life, we cannot allow it to confine us to living without hope. At least three things can contribute to a healthy even if "non-normal" life for perpetrators, victims, and all of us: (1) personal support and clearly defined boundaries, (2) a deepening of one's spiritual life, and (3) personal involvement with available thera-peutic programs. We can all ask ourselves how woundedness in some cases gets transformed into the making of a wounded healer and how in other situations wounds end up in a cycle of wound-ing others. How are wounds "healed" even if never "cured"? Whatever the path we must take, hope is essential to recovery. This much I have learned from my own walking with perpetrators Review for Religious as well as victims: Never let anyone destroy your hope. Strangely, as I was revising this article, I saw the obituary of Viktor Frankl in the New York Times (4 September 1997). Certainly his three-year experience in a concentration camp contained every justifi-cation for giving up hope along with confirming him in the conviction that one's attitude in the face of suffering is essential to well-being. Every one of our brothers, whether a pedophile or a perpe-trator of some other abuse or one of our outstanding members, needs hope. People cannot survive much less thrive without it. All people, as brothers and sisters, need to experience forgive-ness from others in their lives if they are to move beyond various large or small crises towards healing; also, for this same healing, they may need to do some forgiving of their own. To live a whole human life, we must learn to forgive and to be forgiven. This ought not be precipitous. Perpetrators of abuse need to own their guilt and responsibility, go through cognitive restruc-turing, acknowledge their genuine need for reconciliation with victims, their community, and their God. When the way has been prepared, however, forgiveness and understanding need to be there for them if they are to have hope of being restored to their own lives. This does not predetermine how forgiveness happens. Acceptance, forgiveness, and love can be mediated, and must be, from somewhere within the perpetrators' network of relation-ships, from their Christian community. As with all of us, both perpetrators and victims must eventually feel God's presence in their struggle to remake their lives. Health is never a heart of stone. Even though victims cannot take risks and need to protect their increased vulnerability, the goal is not to be limited to resigned anger. It lies in learning a painful compassion. Of course, much more needs to be said here about our mem-bers who have violated the sacred trust placed in them. There has to be an owning of responsibility on their part; they have to have a genuine desire to reform their lives; there must be coop-eration with the congregation or province and its leadership. One thing all of us can learn from these crises is how important for our communities hope and forgiveness are When it comes to the vul-nerabilities in our lives, especially vulnerabilities in our sexual-ity, and most especially when these vulnerabilities become public. We need to learn forgiveness, to forgive and be forgiven, and to May-ffune 1998 Goergen ¯ Calling Forth a Healthy Chaste Life have hope. These two are at the heart of the Christian gospel to which we have given our lives. They are also pertinent to a healthy attitude toward sexuality. After formulating these reflections of my own, I found Sogyal Rinpoche's Tibetan Book of Living and Dying saying the same thing: "I would like to single out two points in giving spiritual help to the dying: giving hope, and finding for-giveness." 3 Common Fraternal Life Summ.ing up, I must say that the best way to promote a healthy sexuality and chastity among us is to promote healthy community life. The fraternity, sisterhood, or community itself is a significant formative context for us.4 How deep is the bond that unites us? Can the communal context of our living both chal-lenge us and enrich us? Does it come from that deeper spiritual desire, that deep spring, from which our lives and ministries ought to flow? Perhaps common life has suffered assault more than any-thing else during the past twenty-five years; the fraternal charac-ter of that common life has perhaps been too long neglected. If our community is not a deeply spiritual and humanly healthy con-text for the workings of the Holy Spirit, individuals find it a lonely struggle to live the heroic lives we are called upon to live, lives of selflessness in a society that rationalizes greed, arrogance, and exploitive forms of power for which obedience, poverty, and chastity are the only antidotes. And so, what do I ask of present-day leadership in this quest called religious life? --Call us to center ourselves; help us to remember who we truly are; challenge us to be our. best selves. Few things in life, very few things, are truly important. Help us to remember that. --Create a climate, an ethos, for healthy living, for open discussion, but also for the freedom to be spiritual and holy men and women and to give religious witness as well. --Respect and trust the brothers and sisters unless someone clearly manifests that such trust is unde-served. --Trust yourself, seek advice, and be human. --Keep an inner balance, keep your eye on extremes and help us to avoid them. Review for Religious --Be aware that there is a rhythm in our personal lives for all of us, like inhaling and exhaling, a time to plant and a time to reap. Do not supervise our personal growth. --Keep our focus on the charism, and keep our expec-tations clear. --Affirm the importance of sexuality in our lives, but help us to put it in perspective. It is not the be-all and end-all of life. --Call us to lives of integrity, but respect our wound-edness and be aware of how vulnerable we are. Help us to be caring, loving men and women. Teach us to pray. --Have a sense of humor. Life is a way of the cross, but help us to look at that cross from the vantage point of the resurrection. Give us hope. I close with some poetic reflections from a Protestant Brazilian liberation writer, Rubem Alves: What is hope? It is a presentiment that imagination is more real and reality less real than it looks. It is the hunch that the overwhelming brutality of facts that oppress and repress is not the last word. It is a suspicion that reality is more complex than realism wants us to believe and that the frontiers of the possible are not determined by the limits of the actual and that in a miraculous and unexpected way life is preparing the creative events which will open the way to freedom and resurrection. The two, suffering and hope, live from each other. Suffering without hope produces resentment and despair, hope without suffering creates illusions, naivet~, and drunkenness. Let us plant dates even though those who plant them will never eat them. We must live by the love of what we will never see. This is the secret discipline. It is a refusal to let the creative act be dissolved in immediate sense experience. It is a stubborn commitment to the future of our grandchildren. 273 --- May-June 1998 Goergen * Calling Forth a Healthy Chaste Life Such disciplined love is what has given the prophets, revolutionaries, and saints the courage to die for the future they envisaged. They make their own bodies the seed of their highest hope.5 Notes l On this point see letter 20, "Religious Life and the Gospel," in my Letters to My Brothers and Sisters (Dublin: Dominican Publications, 1996), pp. 137-142. Available through Dominican Central Province Office; 1909 South Ashland Avenue; Chicago, Illinois 60608. 2 Evangelii nuntiandi, §76. 3 The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying (San Francisco: Harper Collins, 1992), p. 212. A highly recommended spiritual book. 4 See letter 11, "On Community Life," pp. 75-79, and letter 17, "The Continuing Nature of Formation," pp. 115-121, in my Letters to My Brothers and Sisters. s Rubem A. Alves, Hijos del Magana (Salamanca: Ediciones Sigueme, 1976). The above lines have been gathered together from Alves's reflec-tions on pages 219-231. Morning Ear "Morning after morning, he opens my ear." --Isaiah I want to keep my ear wide open like a door foldingout to the sun, ready to receive all that the ball of fire spills across the threshold. I want the Word to trickle through the long canal to the heart and find a place to stretch out in a dream, then expand through my senses to some form in reality. I want it to grow sturdy like a tree that dances in every emotion of the wind, hearing music even when there is only silence. Patricia G. Rourke IHM Review for Religious MARTIN PABLE Skills Needed for Celibacy ~chonaset cIr aotfefde rc hisa sntoitty a, nboirb dlioc aIl e oxrp tlohreeo iltosg sipciarli truaatli oonr amley sf-or tical significance. Such reflections have in recent decades been put forth in masterful fashion by other writers. My purpose is different. Assuming that readers of this journal already have an understanding and appreciation of the value of religious chastity, I focus on this question: What skills ar.e required in order to live out this commitment in a faithful and life-giving manner? I was prompted toward offering an answer to this question by reading a couple of years ago Father Raymond Carey's "Psychosexuality and the Development of Celibacy Skills." As many readers may know, Carey favors a strongly behavioral approach to the assessment of candidates' fitness for priesthood or religious life. Instead of relying on someone's verbalizations about the value of celibacy (which may be impressively lofty and elo-quent without being grounded in lived experience) or even on psychological testing, Carey bases his assessment on the person's life history. The underlying principle is that the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior. In assessing people's capacity to live the vow of chastity, the key question would be: Is the can-didate for religious life developing the skills needed for celibate living? Martin Pable OFMCap has a doctorate in pastoral counseling, has taught courses in it, and has done extensive counseling. Besides giving retreats and workshops, he directs a wellness program for his order and does evangelization ministry. His address is House of Peace Community Center; P.O. Box 05656; M!lwaukee, Wisconsin 53205. 275 . May-3~une 1998 Pable * Skills Needed for Celibacy Carey went on to name--very briefly--twenty-seven such skills. I found his list a bit overwhelming, but I selected a few of the skills and worked out a retreat conference for religious who were already in final vows. The retreatants later encouraged me to put my talk into written form. That is the genesis of this arti-cle. I will follow Carey's distinction between intrapersonal skills (needed to manage internal conscious states) and interpersonal skills (for dealing with other persons), but sometimes my naming of the skills will differ from his. Intrapersonal Skills Self-knowledge Dr. William Menninger once noted that the first meaning of intimacy is "that which constitutes one's own inner self." This . implies, he said, that we must become intimate with ourselves-- know ourselves--before we can hope to be intimate with others. "Know thyself" is a well-known axiom of the ancients. St. Teresa of Avila used to say, "Almost all problems in the spiritual life stem from lack of self-knowledge." Why is self-knowledge so founda-tional? Because it is the precondition for freedom of choice. If I know when I am feeling sad or inadequate or confident or resent-ful or contented or discouraged, I will have important data for making better decisions; whereas, if I am unaware of these inter-nal states, I will likely fall or be driven into choices without really intending them. Then come the regrets: "Why in the world did I do that?" The same dynamics apply to my awareness--or lack of it--of long-standing patterns of people-pleasing or compulsive activity or competitiveness or demanding my own way. Without self-knowledge, change and conversion are not possible. Such self-knowledge is especially crucial in matters of chastity. I need to know what is driving me: my erotic feelings and desires? my tendency to seek companionship to feed my vanity or soothe my bruised ego? my need to feel important to at least one person so as to compensate for my sense of failure in my ministry? None of these necessarily precludes honest celibate living, but I need to be aware of them if I am to manage them. The skill here consists in the ability to tune in to and correctly identify these internal feelings and tendencies. How do we grow in self-knowledge? The basic tool is inter-nal reflection, such as the process described by Father George Review for Religious Aschenbrenner in his famous article "Consciousness Examen" (Review for Religious 31, no. 1 [January-February 1972]). Instruments such as the Myers-Briggs or the enneagram can be helpful in coming to know ourselves. So can the regular practice of journaling and the time-tested practice of spiritual direction. Enjoyment of One's Own Company We have all seen the opposite of this: people who seemingly cannot stand to be alone. This does not come naturally for those who are extroverts. Still, most extroverts do develop the capacity for solitude as they grow older; it is one of the tasks of midlife. Also, we find religious who always have to be busy doing something; they seem unable to just be still or engage in quiet reflection. One has to wonder: What are they avoiding or running away from? Perhaps it is some inner voice that keeps chiding, "You will never be good enough, will never measure up." In any case, celibates need to develop the ability to be alone, to enjoy their own company. This is simply a demand of reality. Having chosen not to marry, we can-not expect that someone will always be there for us. Even in the best of religious communities, there will be times when no one is around. It is the same in ministry, even in these days of collaboration. Much of our time may be spent alone--in our office, our cubicle, our car. The skill lies in the ability to accept that reality and deal with it creatively. Some religious may need therapy to help them understand and manage those inner voices and restless feelings that drive them to avoid solitude. But ordinarily the skill is acquired with time and practice. We begin to actually enjoy quiet time for read-ing, walking, listening to good music. To do that well, though, perhaps most of us will lneed a reasonably comfortable room or office and some degree of pleasant surroundings. It would be well to include here what Carey calls "skills to mon-itor fantasy." This would obviously exclude behavior such as indulging in sexually stimulating reading or viewing, but it would also exclude allowing oneself to fantasize about "what might have been" (or still could be) in terms of romantic/sexual relationships. It is certainly appropriate to do the necessary grieving over such renunciations, but not to keep revisiting them in one's imagination. Celibates need to develop the ability to be alone, to enjoy their own company. '277 May-June 1998 Pable * Skill~ Needed for Celibacy~ One of the instructive stories from the life of St. Francis of Assisi is related by St. Bonaventure. One night, when Francis was severely tempted by lust, he ran out into the snow and formed several snow figures. Then he said to himself, "Look, Francis, the larger one there is your wife and the others are your chil-dren. Now hurry up and find clothes and food for them--they are cold and hungry. But, if all the trouble it takes to look after them is too much for you, then keep your services for God alone." The story is a stark reminder of how chastity sometimes requires a hard dose of "reality therapy" to iolt us out of our dreamy fan-tasies. The "greener grass" on the other side can turn into a cold night and a hungry family. ~ Being grounded in the love of God, I recognize that this is not so much a skill as an attitude or conviction. But it needs to be acquired and strengthened through behavior. Initially, probably most of us accepted celibacy as part of the "package deal" of reli-gious life, or celibacy made sense because it gave us greater free-dom to be of service. But over the long haul that will not be enough to hold us in our commitment to chastity. Something more profound, more soul-inspiring is needed. Stephen Rossetti has called it "the celibacy experience" (Review for Religious 41, no. 5 [September-October 1982]). Rossetti quotes psychologist Ignace Lepp as saying that the chastity of those consecrated to Christ must be "counterbalanced by a genuinely mystical life." There must be, then, a necessary connection between celibacy and mysticism. Rossetti uses Karl Rahner's definition of mysticism as "a genuine though mediated experience of encounter and communication with the personal God." It is this personal experience of being held in the uncondi-tional embrace of God's love that protects religious chastity. It is not something that happens once and for all, but is a chain of real encounters that renew and strengthen the individual's surrender to God. Rossetti says: "It is this experience and the resulting vision which grounds the celibate's apostolate. The celibacy experience, which eventually grows into a total response to the radical question 'Do you love me?' provides the charter and gives life to his or her ministry. Without this growing intimacy with Christ, the celibate's ministry is without an anchor and will drift with every theological and psychological breeze that comes along" (p. 676). The skill required here, it seems to me, is to make oneself available to this experience and to foster it. In the concrete, this Review for Religious means regular, personal prayer. If celibacy is grounded in my per-sonal relationship with the living God embracing me with uncon-ditional love, that relationship can grow and be sustained only by communication, by opening myself to that Mystery, by allow-ing the risen Christ to address me as "friend." Psychotherapist A.W. Richard Sipe puts it very clearly: "Prayer is indispensable and fundamental for the celibate life, for there is no other effective way to confront God-Self-Other within the core of celibate reality. ¯ . All other relationships and friendships are grounded in this core or, in the end, they will fail from the point of view of celibacy or celibate love. In studying religious celibacy for thirty-five years, I have never found one exception to this fundamental rule: prayer is necessary to maintain the celibate process." Skill to Prize One's Sexuality Prizing one's sexuality involves at least two elements: first, appreciating one's sexuality as a positive life energy. In my recent book The Quest for the Male Soul, I note that one of the Hebrew words for "man" in the Bible is zakar, which literally refers to the male phallus. The rite of circumcision had deep spiritual sig-nificance for the Hebrew male: it was a sign of his covenant with God as well as of his ethnic identity. Therefore, every time he looked at or used his phallus he was reminded: "I am a Hebrew. I belong to God's chosen people. I am dedicated to God.'.' What a contrast with our own socialization into sexuality. There is no sacred ritual to help us to prize our sexuality. The culture around us tends to idolize it, while our religious training tends to make it an object of shame. It is crucial that celibates come to value their sexual energy as a positive gift of God that needs to be channeled toward nongenital forms of love and cre-ativity. Second, this skill involves coming to a peaceful sense of own-ership of one's sexual orientation¯ Thankfully, as the wider soci-ety is becoming more open about homosexuality, religious life is likewise becoming more open. It is now widely acknowledged that there are homosexual and bisexual brothers and sisters in our communities who are spiritually deep, ministerially effective, and faithfully celibate, just as there are heterosexual religious who embody these same qualities¯ We salute them all. Hopefully, we are growing to the point where we can say: (1) We will not tolerate or cover up deliberate violations of celibate chastity; (2) we will279 . ~Vlay-June 1998 Pable ¯ Skil~ Needed for Celiba not tolerate any discrimination against any brother or sister because of his or her sexual orientation; (3) we will not demand perfection in matters of chastity--only that each of us try to grow, even by our mistakes and sins, toward faithful and loving celibacy for the sake of the kingdom of God. Interpersonal Skills Most celibate religious eventually learn to control their gen-ital sexual drive--through common sense ("monitoring fantasy"), self-discipline, prayer, and the grace of God. What is often more difficult, however, is to deal with longings for emotional inti-macy: the experience of closeness, sharing, and exchange of affec-tion with at least one other person as a kind of healing for the sense of loneliness. Celibates know they are called to love the people entrusted to them, though this is often a one-way love with little reciprocity. Moreover, celibates can and do have good friendships marked by true mutuality. But the vow of chastity does require them to renounce the desire for "that one special

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

Issue 45.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1986. ; Volume 45 Number 4' July/August, 1986 REVIEW FOR REt.~G~OUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR RELiGiOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1986 by REVIEW FOR REI, IGIOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, M O. Single copies: $2,50. Subscription U.S.A. $11.00 a year; $20.00 for two years. Other countries: add $4.00 per year (postage). Airmail (Book Rate) $18.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor July/August, 1986 Volume 45 Number 4 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELtGtOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindeli Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVtEW FOR RELtCtOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N.Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, M! 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. A Letter to Priests: The Example of St. John Vianney John Paul H As he has done each year of his pontificate, Pope John Paul addressed a letter to priests for Holy Thursday, which is, par excellence, the Feast of Priesthood. The text is taken from L'Osservatore Romano, 24 March, 1986, pp. 1-3. Here we are again, about to celebrate Holy .Thursday, the day on which Christ J.esus instituted the Eucharist and at the same time our ministerial priesthood. "Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end."~ As the Good Shepherd, he was about to give his life for his sheep,2 to save man, to reconcile him with his Father and bring him into a new life. And already at the Last Supper he offered to the apostles as food his own body given up for them and his blood shed for them. Each year this day is an important one for all Christians: Like the first disciples, they come to receive the body and blood of Christ in the evening liturgy that renews the Last Supper. They receive from the Savior his testament of fraternal love, which must inspire their whole lives, and they begin to watch with him, in order to be united with him in his passion. You yourselves gather them together and guide their prayer. But this day is especially important for us, dear brother priests. It is the ¯ feast of priests. It is the birthday of our priesthood, which is a sharing in the one priesthood of Christ the mediator. On this day the priests of the whole world are invited to concelebrate the Eucharist with their bishops and with them to renew the promises of their priestly commitment to the service of Christ and his Church. As you know, I feel particularly close to each one of you on this 481 482 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 occasion. And, the same as every year, as a sign of our sacramental union in the same priesthood and impelled by my affectionate esteem for you and by my duty to confirm all my brothers in their service of the Lord, I wish to send you this letter to help you to stir up the wonderful gift that was conferred on you through the laying on of hands) This ministerial priest-hood which is our lot is also our vocation and our grace. It marks our whole life with the seal of the most necessary and most demanding of services, the salvation of souls. We are led to it by a host of predecessors. The Matchless Example of the Cur~ of Ars One of those predecessors remains particularly present in the memory of the Church, and he will be especially commemorated this year, on the second centenary of his birth: St. John Mary I"ianney, the Curb of Ars. Together we wish to thank Christ, the prince of pastors, for this extraordinary model of priestly life and service which the saintly Cur~ of Ars offers to the whole Church, and above all to us priests. How many of us prepared ourselves for the priesthood or today .exer-cise the difficult task of caring for souls, having before our eyes the figure of St.John Mary Vianney! His example cannot be forgotten. More than ever we need his witness, his intercession, in order to face the situations of our times when, in spite of a certain number of hopeful signs, evangeliza-tion is being contradicted by a growing secularization, when spiritual disci-pline is being neglected, when many are losing sight of the kingdom of God, when often even in the pastoral ministry there is a too exclusive concern for the social aspect, for temporal aims. In the. last century the Cur~ of Ars had to face difficulties which were perhaps of a different kind but which were no less serious. By his life and work he represented for the society of his time a great evangelical challenge that bore astonishing fruits of conversion. Let us not doubt that he still presents to us today the great evangelical challenge. I therefore invite you now to meditate on our priesthood in the pres.- ence of this matchless pastor, who illustrates both the fullest realization of the priestly ministry and the holiness of the minister. As you know, John Mary Baptist Vianney died at Ars on August 4, 1859, after some forty years of exhausting dedication. He was seventy-three years of age. When he arrived, Ars was a small and obscure village in the Diocese of Lyons, now in the Diocese of Belley. At the end of his life, people came from all over France, and his reputation for holiness, after he had been called home to God, soon attracted the attention of the universal Church. St. Plus X beatified him in 1905, Pius X1 canonized him in 1925 and then in 1929 declared him patron saint of the parish priests of the A Letter to Priests / 483 whole world. On the centenary of his death, Pope John XXIII wrote the encyclical Nostri Sacerdotii Primitias, to present the Cur6 of Ars as a model of priestly life and asceticism, a model of piety and eucharistic worship, a model of pastoral zeal, and this in the context of the needs of our time. Here, I would simply like to draw your attention to certain essential points so as to help us to rediscover and live our priesthood better. The Extraordinary Life of the Cur~ of Ars Preparing for the Priesthood The Cur~ of Ars is truly a model of strong will for those preparing for the priesthood. Many of the trials which followed one after another could have discouraged him: the effects of the upheaval of the French Revolu-tion, the lack of opportunities for education in his rural environment, the reluctance of his father, the need for him to do his share of work in the fields, the hazards of military service. Above all, and in spite of his intuitive intelligence and lively sensitivity, there was his great difficulty in learning and memorizing, and so in following the theological courses in Latin, all of which resulted in his dismissal from the seminary in Lyons. However, after the genuineness of his vocation had finally been acknowledged, at twenty-nine years of age he was able to be ordained. Through his tenacity in working and praying, he overcame all obstacles and limitations, just as he did later in his priestly life, by his perseverance in laboriously preparing his sermons or spending the evenings reading the works of theologians and spiritual writers. From his youth he was filled with a great desire to "win souls for the good of God" by being a priest, and he was supported by the confidence placed in him by the .parish priest of the neighboring town of Ecully, who never doubted his vocation and took charge of a good part of his training. What an example of courage for those who today experience the grace of being called to the priesthood ! His Love for Christ and for Souls The Cur6 of Ars is a model of priestly zeal for all pastors. This secret of his generosity is to be found without doubt in his love of God, lived without limits, in constant response to the love made manifest in Christ crucified. This is where he bases his desire to do everything to save the souls ransomed by Christ at such a great price and to bring them back to the love of God. Let us recall one of those pithy sayings which he had the knack of uttering: "The priesthood is the love of the heart of Jesus.-4 In his sermons and catechesis he continually returned to that love: "O my God, 1 prefer to die loving you than to live a single instant without loving you . I love you, my divine Savior, because you were crucified for us. because you 484 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 have me crucified for you."5 For the sake of Christ, he seeks to conform himself exactly to the radical demands that Jesus in the Gospel puts before the disciples whom he sends out: prayer, poverty, humility, self-denial, voluntary penance. And, like Christ, he has a love for his flock that leads him to extreme pastoral commitment and self-sacrifice. Rarely has a pastor been so acutely aware of his responsibilities, so consumed by a desire to wrest his people from their sins or their lukewarmness. "O my God, grant me the conversion of my parish: I consent to suffer whatever you wish, for as long as I live." Dear brother priests, nourished by the Second Vatican Council which has felicitously placed the priest's consecration within the framework of his pastoral mission, let us join St. John Mary Vianney and seek the dyna-mism of our pastoral zeal in the heart of Jesus, in his love for souls. If we do not draw from the same source, our ministry risks bearing little fruit! The Fruits of His Ministry In the case of the Cure of Ars, the results were indeed wonderful, somewhat as with Jesus in the Gospel. Through John Mary Vianney, who consecrates his Whole strength and his whole heart to him, Jesus saves souls. The Savior entrusts them to him, in abundance. First his parish--which numbered only two hundred thirty people when he arrived--which will be profoundly changed. One recalls that in that village there was a great deal of indifference and very little religious practice among the men. The bishop had warned John Mary Vianney: "There is not much love of God in that parish, you will put some there." But quite soon, far beyond his own village, the cure becomes the pastor of a multitude coming from the entire region, from different parts of France and from other countries. It is said that 80,000 came in the year 1858! People sometimes waited for days to see him, to go to confession to him. What attracted them to him was not merely curiosity nor even a reputation justified by miracles and extraordinary cures, which the saint would wish to hide. It was much more the realization of meeting a saint, amazing for his penance, so close to God in prayer, remarkable for his peace and humility in the midst of popular acclaim and, above all, so intuitive in responding to the inner disposition of souls and in freeing them from their burdens, especially in the confessional. Yes, God chose as a model for pastors one who could have appeared poor, weak, defenseless and con-temptible in the eyes of men.6 He graced him with his best gifts as a guide and healer of souls. While recognizing the special nature of the grace given to the Cur6 of Ars, is there not here a sign of hope for pastors today who are suffering A Letter to Priests from a kind of spiritual desert? The 1Vlinistry of the Curb of Ars Different Apostolic Approaches to the Essential John Mary Vianney dedicated himself essentially to teaching the faith and to purifying consciences, and these two ministries were directed toward the Eucharist. Should we not see here, today also, the three objectives of the priest's pastoral service? While the purpose is undoubtedly to bring the People of God together around the eucharistic mystery by means of catechesis and penance, other apostolic approaches, varying according to circumstances, are also neces-sary. Sometimes it is a simple presence, over the years, with the silent witness of faith in the midst of non-Christian surroundings; or being near to people, to families and their concerns; there is a preliminary evangeliza-tion that seeks to awaken to the faith unbelievers and the lukewarm; there is the witness of charity and justice shared with Christian lay people, which makes the faith more credible and puts it into practice. These give rise to a whole series of undertakings and apostolic works which prepare or con-tinue Christian formation. The Cur~ of Ars himself taxed his ingenuity to devise initiatives adapted to his time and his parishioners. However, all these priestly activities were centered on the Eucharist, catechesis and the sacrament of reconciliation. The Sacrament of Reconciliation It is undoubtedly his untiring devotion to the sacrament of reconcilia-tion which revealed the principle charism of the Cur~ of Ars and is rightly the reason for his renown. It is good that such an example should encour-age us today to restore to the ministry of reconciliation all the attention which it deserves and which the Synod of Bishops of 1983 so justly emphasized.7 Without the step of conversion, penance and seeking pardon that the Church's ministers ought untiringly to encourage and welcome, the much desired renewal will remain superficial and illusory. The first care of the Cur~ of Ars was to teach the faithful to desire repentance. He stressed the beauty of God's forgiveness. Was not all his priestly life and all his strength dedicated to the conversion of sinners? And it was above all in the confessional that God's mercy manifested itself. So he did not wish to get rid of the penitents who came from all parts and to whom he often devoted ten hours a day, sometimes fifteen or more. For him this was undoubtedly the greatest of his mortifications, a form of martyrdom. In the first place it was a martyrdom in the physical sense from the heat, the cold or the suffocating atmosphere. Second, in the moral Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 sense, for he himself suffered from the sins confessed and even more the lack of repentance: "I weep because you do not weep." In the face of these indifferent people, whom he welcomed as best he could and tried to awaken in them the love of God, the Lord enabled him to reconcile great sinners who were repentant, and also to guide to perfection souls thirsting for it. It was here above all that God asked him to share in the redemption. For our own part, we have rediscovered, better than during the last century, the community aspect of penance, preparation for forgiveness and thanksgiving after forgiveness. But sacramental forgiveness will always require a personal encounter with the crucified Christ through the media-tion of his minister,s Unfortunately it is often the case that penitents do not fervently hasten to the confessional, as in the time of the Cur~ of Ars. Now, just when a great number seem to stay away from confession completely for various reasons, it is a sign of the urgent need to develop a whole pastoral strategy of the sacrament of reconciliation. This will be done by constantly reminding Christians of the need to have a-real relationship with God, to have a sense of sin when one is closed to God and to others, the need to be converted and through the Church to receive forgiveness as a free gift of God. They also need to be reminded of the conditions that enable the sacrament to be celebrated well, and in this regard to overcome prejudices, baseless fears and routine.9 Such a situation at the same time requires that we ourselves should remain very available for this ministry of forgiveness, ready to devote to it the necessary time and care, and I would even say giving it priority over other activities. The faithful will then realize the value that we attach to it, as did the Cur~ of Ars. Of course, as I wrote in the post-synodal exhortation on penance,~0 the ministry undoubtedly remains the most difficult, the most delicate, the most taxing and the most demanding of all---especially when priests are in short supply. This ministry also presupposes on the part of the confessor great human qualities, above all, an intense and sincere spiritual life; it is necessary that the priest himself should make regular use of this sacrament. Always be convinced of this, dear brother priests: this ministry of mercy is one of the most beautiful and most consoling. It enables you to enlighten consciences, to forgive them and to give them fresh vigor in the name of the Lord Jesus. It enables you to be for them a spiritual physician and counselor; it remains "the irreplaceable manifestation and the test of the priestly ministry." ~ The Eucharist: Offering the Mass, Communion, Adoration The two sacraments of reconciliation and the Eucharist remain closely linked. Without a continually renewed conversion and the reception of the A Letter to Priests / 487 sacramental grace of forgiveness, participation in the Eucharist would not reach its full redemptive efficacy.~2 Just as Christ began his ministry with the words "Repent and believe in the Gospel,"~3 so the Cur6 of Ars gener-ally began each of his days with the ministry of forgiveness. But he was happy to direct his reconciled penitents to the Eucharist. The Eucharist was at the very center of his spiritual life and pastoral work. He said: "All good works put together are not equivalent to the sacrifice of the Mass, because they are the works of men and the holy Mass is'the work of God."~4 It is in the Mass that the sacrifice of Calvary is made present for the redemption of the world. Clearly, the priest must unite the daily gift of himself to the offering of the Mass: "How well a priest does, therefore, to offer himself to God in sacrifice every morning!"~5 "Holy communion and the holy sacrifice of the Mass are the two most efficacious actions for obtaining the conversion of hearts."~6 Thus the Mass was for John Mary Vianney the great joy and comfort of his priestly life. He took great care, despite the crowds of penitents, to spend more than a quarter of an hour in silent preparation. He celebrated with recollection, clearly expressing his adoration at the consecration and communion. He accurately remarked: "The cause of priestly laxity is not paying attention to the Mass!''~7 The Cur6 of Ars was particularly mindful of the permanence of Christ's real presence in the Eucharist. It was generally before the tabernacle that he spent long hours in adoration, before daybreak or in the evening; it was toward the tabernacle that he often turned during his homilies, saying with emotion: "He is there!" It was also for this reason that he, so poor in his presbytery, did not hesitate to spend large sums on embellishing his church. The appreciable result was that his parishioners quickly took up the habit of coming to pray before the Blessed Sacrament, discovering, through the attitude of their pastor, the grandeur of the mystery of faith. With such a testimony before our eyes, we think about what the Second Vatican Council says to us today on the subject of priests: "They exercise this sacred function of Christ most of all in the eucharistic liturgy." ~8 And more recently, the extraordinary synod in December, 1985, recalled: "The liturgy must favor and make shine brightly the sense of the sacred. It must be imbued with reverence, adoration and glorification of God . The Eucharist is the source and summit of all the Christian life."19 Dear brother priests, the example of the Cur6 of Ars invites us to a serious examination of conscience: What place do we give to the Mass in our daily lives? Is it, as on the day of our ordination--it was our first act as priests!--the principle of our apostolic work and personal sanctification? What care do we take in preparing for it? And in celebrating it? In praying 41111 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 before the Blessed Sacrament? In encouraging our faithful people to do the same? In making our churches the house of God to which the divine presence attracts the people of our times, who too often have the impres-sion of a world empty of God? Preaching and Catechesis The Cur~ of Ars was also careful never to neglect in any way the ministry of the Word, which is absolutely necessary in predisposing people to faith and conversion. He even said: "Our Lord, who is truth itself, considers his Word no less important than his body."20 We know how long he spent, especially at the beginning, in laboriously composing his Sunday sermons. Later on he came to express himself more spontaneously, always with lively and clear conviction, with images and comparisons taken from daily life and easily grasped by his flock. His catechetical instructions to the children also formed an important part of his ministry, and the adults gladly joined the children so as to profit from this matchless testimony which flowed from his heart. He had the courage to denounce evil in all its forms; he did not keep silent, for it was a question of the eternal salvation of his faithful people: "If a pastor remains silent when he sees God insulted and souls going astray, woe to him! If he does not want to be damned, and if there is some disorder in his parish, he must trample upon human respect and the fear of being despised or hated." This responsibility was his anguish as parish priest. But as a rule, "he preferred to show the attractive side of virtue rather than the ugliness of vice," and if he spoke--sometimes in tears-- about sin and the danger for salvation, he insisted on the tenderness of God who has been offended, and the happiness of being loved by God, united by God, living in his presence and for him. Dear brother priests, you are deeply convinced of the importance of proclaiming the Gospel, which the Second Vatican Council placed in the first rank of the functions of a priest.2~ You seek, through catechesis, through preaching and in other forms which also include the media, to touch the hearts of our contemporaries, with their hopes and uncertainties, in order to awaken and foster faith. Like the Cur6 of Ars and in accor-dance with the exhortation of the council,22 take care to teach the Word of God itself which calls people to conversion and holiness. The Identity of the Priest The Specific Ministry of the I~iest St. John Mary Vianney gives an eloquent answer to certain question-ings of the priest's identity which have manifested themselves in the course A Letter to Priests / 4119 of the last twenty years; in fact it seems that today a more balanced position is being reached. The priest always and in an unchangeable way finds the source of his identity in Christ the priest. It is not the world which determines his status, as though it depended on changing needs or ideas about social roles. The priest is marked with the seal of the priesthood of Christ in order to share in his function as the one mediator and redeemer. So, because of this fundamental bond, there opens before the priest the immense field of the service of souls, for their salvation in Christ and in the Church. This service must be completely inspired b.y love of souls in imita-tion of Christ who gives his life for them. It is God's wish that all people should be saved and that none of the little ones should be lost.23 "The priest must always be ready to respond to the needs of souls," said the Cur6 of Ars.24 "He is not for himself, he is for you."25 The priest is for the laity. He animates them and supports them in the exercise of the common priesthood of the baptized--so well illustrated by the Second Vatican Council--which consists in their making their lives a spiritual offering, in witnessing to the Christian spirit in the family, in taking charge of the temporal sphere and sharing in the evangelization of their brethren. But the service of the priest belongs to another order. He is ordained to act in the name of Christ the head, to bring people into the new life made accessible by Christ, to dispense to them the mysteries---the word, forgiveness, the bread of life--to gather them into his body, to help them to form themselves from within, to live and to act according to the saving plan of God. In a word, our identity as priests is manifested in the "creative" exercise of the love for souls communicated by Christ Jesus. Attempts to make the priest more like the laity are damaging to the Church. This does not mean in any way that the priest can remain remote from the human concerns of the laity. He must be. very near to them, as John Mary Vianney was, but as a priest, always in a perspective which is of their salvation and of the progress of the kingdom of God. He is the witness and dispenser of a life other than earthly life.26 It is essential to the Church that the identity of the priest be safeguarded with its vertical dimension. The life and personality enlightening and vigorous illustration of this. Configuration to Christ and Solidarity with Sinners St. John Mary Vianney did not content himself with the ritual carrying out of the activities of his ministry. It was his heart and his life which he sought to conform to Christ. Prayer was the soul of his life: silent and contemplative prayer, gener- 4~0 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 ally in his church at the foot of the tabernacle. Through Christ, his soul opened to the three divine persons, to whom he would entrust "his poor soul" in his last will and testament. "He kept a constant union with God in the middle of an extremely busy life," And he did not neglect the Office or the rosary. He turned spontaneously to the Virgin. His poverty was extraordinary. He literally stripped himself of every-thing for the poor. And he shunned honors. Chastity shone in his face. He knew the value of purity in order "to rediscover the source of love, which is God." Obedience to Christ consisted, for John Mary Vianney, in obedience to the Church and especially to the bishop. This obedience took the form of accepting the heavy charge of being a parish priest, which often fright-ened him. But the Gospel insists especially on renouncing self, on accepting the cross. Many were the crosses which presented themselves to the Cur6 of Ars in the course of his ministry: calumny on the part of the people, being misunderstood by an assistant priest or other confreres, contradictions, and also a mysterious struggle against the powers of hell, and sometimes even the temptation to despair in the midst of spiritual darkness. Nonetheless he did not content himself with just accepting these trials without complaining; he went beyond them by mortification, imposing on himself continual fasts and many other rugged practices in order ''to reduce his body to servitude," as St. Paul says. But what we must see clearly in this penance, which our age unhappily has little taste for, are his motives: love of God and the conversion of sinners. Thus he asks a discouraged fellow priest: "You have prayed . you have wept . but have you fasted, have you kept vigil?"27 Here we are close to the warning of Jesus to the apostles: "But this kind is cast out only by prayer and fasting."28 In a word, John Mary Vianney sanctified himself so as to be more able to sanctify others. Of course, conversion remains the secret of hearts, which are free in their actions, and the secret of God's grace. By his ministry, the priest can only enlighten people, guide them in the internal forum and give them the sacraments. The sacraments are, of course, actions of Christ, and their effectiveness is not diminished by the imperfection or unworthiness of the minister. But the results depend also on the dispositions of those who receive them, and these are greatly assisted by the personal holiness of the priest, by his perceptible witness, as also by the mysterious exchange of merits in the communion of saints. St. Paul said: "In my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the Church."29 John Mary Vianney in a sense Wished to force God to grant these graces of conversion, not only by his prayer but by the sacrifice of his whole life. He wished to love God for those who did not love him and even A Letter to Priests / 491 do the penance which they would not do. He was truly a pastor completely at one with his sinful people. Dear brother priests, let us not be afraid of this very personal commit-ment-- marked by asceticism and inspired by love--which God asks of us for the proper exercise of our priesthood. Let us remember the recent reflections of the synodal fathers: "It seems to us that in the difficulties of today God wishes to teach us more deeply the value, importance and central place of the cross of Jesus Christ."30 In the priest, Christ relives his passion for the sake of souls. Let us give thanks to God, who thus permits us to share in the redemption, in our hearts and in our fles!! For all these reasons, St. John Mary Vianney never ceases to be a witness, ever living, ever relevant, to the truth about the priestly vocation and service. We recall the convincing way in which he spoke of the great-ness of the priest and of the absolute need for him. Those who are already priests, those who are preparing for the priesthood and those who will be called to it must fix their eyes on his example and follow it. The faithful too will more clearly grasp, thanks to him, the mystery of the priesthood of their priests. No, the figure of the Cur6 of Ars does not fade. Conclusion Dear brothers, may these reflections renew your joy at being priests, your desire to be priests more profoundly! The witness of the Cur6 of Ars contains still other treasures to be discovered. We shall return to these themes at greater length during the pilgrimage which I shall have the joy of making next October, since the French bishops have invited me to Ars in honor of the second centenary of the birth of John Mary Vianney. I address this first meditation to you, dear brothers, for the solemnity of Holy Thursday. In each of our diocesan communities we are going to gather together, on this birthday of our priesthood, to renew the grace of the sacrament of orders, to stir up the love which is the mark of our vocation. We hear Christ saying to us as he said to the apostles: "Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends., I have called you friends.TM Before him who manifests love in its fullness, we priests and bishops renew our priestly commitments. We pray for one another, each for his brother and all for all. We ask the eternal Father that the memory of the Cur6 of Ars may help to stir up our zeal in his service. We beseech the Holy Spirit to call to the Church's service many priests of the caliber and holiness of the Cur6 of Ars: In our age she has so great a 492 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 need of them, and she is no less capable of bringing such vocations to full flower. And we entrust our priesthood to the Virgin Mary, the mother of priests, to whom John Mary Vianney ceaselessly had recourse with tender affection and total confidence. This was for him another reason for giving thanks: "Jesus Christ," he said, "having given us all that he could give us, also wishes to make us heirs of what is most precious to him, his holy mother.'S2 For my part, I assure you once more of my great affection, and with your bishop, I send you my apostolic blessing. From the Vatican, March 16, 1986, the fifth Sunday of Lent, in the eighth year of my pontificate. NOTES ~Jn 13:!. 2See Jn 10:11. ~See 2 Tm 1:6. aSee Jean-Marie Vianney, Curb d' Ars, Sa Pensee, Son Coeur, presented by Abbe Bernard Nodet, Editions Xavier Mappus, Le Puy, 1958, p. 100. Henceforth quoted as: Nodet. 5Nodet, p. 44. 6See 1 Co 1:28-19. 7See John Paul II, post-synodal apostolic exhortation Reconciliatio et Paenitentia (Dec. 2, 1984): AAS 77 (1985), pp. 185-275. sSee John Paul I1, encyclical letter Redemptor Hominis (March 14, 1979), no. 20: AAS 71 (1979), pp. 313-316. 9See Reconciliatio et Paenitentia, n. 28. ~°.See ibid, 29. ~'John Paul II, Letter to Priests for Holy Thursday, 1983, No. 3: AAS 75 (1983), Pars I, p. 419. ~2See Redemptor Hominis, n. 20. ~JMk 1:15. ~4Nodet, p. 108. ~5Ibid, p. 107. 161bid, p. 110. ~7Ibid, p. 108. taSecond Vatican Council, Lumen Gentium, n. 28. 191I, b, b/1 and c/l; see LG n. 11. 2°Nodet, p. 126. 2'Second Vatican Council, Presbyterorum Ordinis, n. 4. ~See ibid. 23See Mt 18:14. 24Nodet, p. 101. 2~Ibid, p. 102. ~6See Presbyterorum Ordinis, n. 3. 27Nodet, p. 193. 2SMt 17:21. 29Co1 1:24. 3°Final Report, D/2. 3lJn 15:13-15. 32Nodet, p. 252. Religious Life: God's Call and Our Response Christopher Kiesling, O P. Father Kiesling is professor emeritus of systematic theology at Aquinas Institute in St. Louis, and former editor of Spirituality Today. He may be addressed at liis residence: 97 Waterman Place, Saint Louis, Missouri 63112. What is religious life--an institution of life? Actually, it is both, but it does not make a difference how we view it primarily. From an observer's point of view, it is an institution, an organization of life to achieve a specific goal by particular means. From a participant's perspective, it is life which, as it unfolds, assumes a pattern. If we think of religious life first as an institution, emphasis falls on the organizational elements. It then appears as a more or less fixed framework existing "out there" into which people must learn to fit. On the other hand, if religious life is perceived primarily as life, the stress is on the religious development of the people who constitute a community. This article considers religious life from a participant's viewpoint and describes it as a call from God to which we respond, both call and response mediated by Jesus Christ, the Church, a religious congregation, and personal history. A call is something with which we are familiar. People call us to catch our attention when they want us to do something. We receive telephone calls. A call comes from outside of ourselves. It enters into us and evokes a response of attention or rejection and, if attention, a further response of action or refusal to act. Religious life'is aptly regarded as a call. We commonly refer to religious 493 4~1 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 life as a vocation, which means "call." We religious are aware that our religious life comes from outside of ourselves, that is, our controlling ego, whether we imagine the call as coming from above us or from the depths of our being. We can explain to people why we are religious. But even as we offer reasons for our choice of religious life, we are conscious that even the totality of answers does not adequately explain our choice. The "why" of our religious life always contains an element of mystery. In the light of faith, we attribute this mystery, not simply to our ignorance of our com-plex and often subconscious motivations, but to God's call as the ultimate and inexplicable reason for our being religious. God's call to choose this way of life has entered our controlling ego, caught our attention, and won a response of action from us. God's call is enduring. It continues to invite us to renew radically our choice of religious life or to choose activities which confirm our radical choice. God's call is effective. It accomplishes what it asks, provided that we do not place obstacles in the way. God called creation out of nothingness, Israel out of Egypt, Jesus out of death. So to say that religious life is a call from God is not to affirm only that it begins with God's catching our attention and proposing a way of life for our choice. God's call enables us to attend to it and to respond to it initially and continually. Our religious life, in other words, is God's work in us. Yet we freely choose religious life; it is also our work. One reason why explanations for our choice of religious life seem inadequate is that they do not amount to an absolutely compelling set of motives for our choice. We could have done, and even now can do, otherwise than follow this way of life. If we follow it, we have freely chosen to do so. Hence religious life is both God's efficacious call at work within us and our response freely given: it is life issuing from our own hearts as well as from God's call. As the call is enduring, so is the response in the form of periodic radical renewals of our choice of religious life and in the form of daily choices of activities confirm-ing the radical choice. How religious life can be the result of both God's efficacious call and our free response is, of course, a mystery which theologians over the centuries have not been able to illuminate, much less explain, in a way agreeable to all. It is a mystery we are forced to acknowledge, however, for we cannot deny our experience of freedom and respons~ibility on the one hand and, on the other, the necessity of God's grace for us sinners to live a life pleasing to God. Our response to God's call to religious life is not only.free but is meant to embrace the whole of our lives. Religious life is life. It is more than a Religious Ltfe: God's Call / 495 particular organization of life and more than a job to be done. It embraces our bodily being, sensible perception, emotional functioning, and spiritual operations. Following Bernard Lonergan's lead,~ we can list a host of activities which we can attribute to our spirit, a spirit of inquiry, and which we constantly perform as we go about daily living: we experience, observe, note, gather information, seek insight, discover intelligibility, conceptualize, find words to express our ideas, check our ideas against reality (that is reason about them), judge them to be true or false in comparison with what is, evaluate the goodness or badness of what we find in reality, decide whether or not to choose this or that good, choose, and act to carry out what is chosen. These activities prompted by the spirit of inquiry engage, it should be noted, not only intellectual operations (e.g., questioning, seeking insight, reasoning) but also bodily activities (e.g., experiencing, observing, noting), emotional reactions (e.g., evaluating), and operations of the will (e.g., choosing, acting). So the response which constitutes, with God's efficacious call, religious life is very comprehensive. Religious life as response to God's call entails the whole of life in several ways. It involves giving of the whole of ourselves to God, all the components of our persons and personalities. We are called to give the whole of our-selves wholly, that is, to direct all our energies to the giving of the whole of ourselves to God. And we are called to give the whole of ourselves wholly for the whole of life, for the vocation is not to a training period in religious behavior, or to an extended retreat, or to a supervised experience of com-munity living (as valuable as such experiences may be for some people), but to religious life. To achieve, or rather approach achievement, of such totality of response to God's call is a lifetime task. Religious life as composed of God's call and our response is, then, ongoing dialogue and interaction between God and ourselves. It is event, something that happens, a dynamic reality. It is highly personal. It is not a relatively rigid framework into which everyone must fit in exactly the same way, but cooperative,activity between ourselves and God. It assumes insti-tutional form because it is social and occurs in community. But it always overflows its organization because it is first of all life adapting itself to changing circumstances in dialogue and interaction with God. Periodic congregational and provincial chapters required by canon law are recogni-tion that religious life is primarily engendered in dialogue and interaction with God in changing situations, rather than being relatively unchangeable institutional organization. The Bible contains numerous stories of God's call to various persons and their responses. We think of God's call to Abraham (Gn 12:1-9), Moses (Ex 3:1-4:17), Joshua (Dt 31:14-15, 23; (Jos 1:1-9), Gideon (Jg 6:11-24), 4~6 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 Samuel (1 Sam 3:1-21), Saul (1 S 9:1-10:24), Isaiah (Is 6:1-13), Jeremiah (Jr 1:4-19), Ezekiel (Ezk 1:3-3:15), Joseph (Mt 1:18-25; 2:13-15, 19-23), Mary (Lk 1:26-28), Jesus (Mt 3:13-17), Simon, Andrew, James, and John (Mt 5:18-22; Lk 5:1-11), Matthew, or Levi (Mr 9:9), and Paul (Ac 9:1-19). These accounts of God's call and the initial response of certain biblical figures together with further narratives of their carrying out their response are a source of reflection for religious. They alert us to the variety of ways in which God calls people and the diversity of responses that are possible. They help us to hear God's call to us today, to interpret it, and to answer it appropriately. God's call is not a divine shout or whisper which we hear with our ears, or even an interior imagining of such a vocal invitation. God's call--and our response also--are mediated. They are mediated first of all through Jesus Christ. God's call comes to us in the urging of Jesus to follow him (Mt 4:18-22; 8:19-22; 9:9-13; 10:37-38; 19:16-30 and parallels in Luke and Mark). Religious life is rooted in Jesus' call to become his disciples, for religious life developed in the Church as a way of responding to Jesus' call to discipleship. The scriptural passages recounting Jesus' invitation to come after him are, therefore, important for religious to meditate on because in them they "hear" Jesus' call and, through that call, the call of God whom Jesus addressed as Abba (Father)? God's call is mediated not only by Jesus in his earthly life remembered in the Scriptures but also by Jesus in risen glory. The basis for saying this is the continuance of Jesus'. followers' discipleship after the resurrection (Ac 1:3) and their being sent by the risen Lord to forgive sin (Jn 20:21-23) and to preach his message throughout the whole world (Mt 28:18-20). Another basis is the resurrected Jesus' call of Saul on the road to Damascus (Ac 9:3-6). Still another foundation is the conviction of religious through the centuries that Jesus' call comes to them not merely in the memory of his earthly life recorded in Scripture, but that Jesus the risen Lord calls them personally now as he once called his followers after his resurrection in Palestine nearly two thousand years ago. Our response of religious life is also mediated by Jesus. By his self-offer-ing on the cross, Jesus reconciled us to God, removing the obstacles between us and God, and giving us access to God. His sacrifice won for us the divine help, grace, whereby we are enabled to live for God. The risen Jesus now "forever lives to intercede for us" (Heb 7:25). He prepares a kingdom, which includes the lives of religious, that he will hand over to his Father at the end of time (1 Co 15:24-25). He lives in us, making our discipleship in religious life a reality (Jn 15:4-5; Ga 2:20; Ep 4:16; Col 1:27). Jesus is the mediator of our response to God's call also in the sense that Religious Life: God's Call / 497 his life is the model for the kind of response we as religious seek to make to God's call. Our religious life, then, is like our liturgical worship: it is "through Christ our Lord," in regard to both God's call and our response. Jesus' call to religious life, both the earthly and the risen Jesus' call, is mediated to us by the Church. The celebration of the word and the sacra-ments in the liturgy, evangelization, catechesis, preaching, religious educa-tion, theology, pastoral counseling, spiritual direction, doctrinal teaching regarding faith and morals, dogmatic definitions--all these ecclesial activi-ties recall the memory of the earthly Jesus, convey the action of the risen Lord through his Spirit, and so extend God's call in Jesus to discipleship and thus to religious life. Not less worthy of consideration are the activities of parents, school teachers, religious sisters and brothers, parish priests, Newman chaplains, and others who in various ways make Jesus' call to discipleship a particular invitation to us. The Church, we must absolutely not forget, consists of all the baptized faithful, not only the clergy, or the bishops, or the pope, or the Roman curia. The Church's mediating Jesus' call to us is experienced chiefly in the direct encounters we have with a variety of Church members at a local level. The mediation of the Church is a crucial factor in God's call coming to us. The faithful gathering of God's people through the centuries for wor-ship, for care for one another, for all the needy, and for the reform of society has had an impact on people. It has raised questions in people's minds about the purpose of life and the value of their occupations. It has thus led to the discovery of God,s call in Jesus to discipleship and life with the Father and all his children. At times parts of the Church, whether among the clergy or the laity or the religious, have not been very edifying in their lives or credible vehicles conveying the call to follow Jesus. But God overrides these obstacles and somehow uses them, faulty as they may be, to quicken the life of his people. God raises up saints, canonized and noncanonized, in every age. Even the unchurched depend upon the Church, for if they have faith in Jesus Christ, if they treasure the Bible, if they seek to imitate the conduct of Jesus, they have inherited all these values from the community of the faithful, from the Church, which has preserved them over the centuries through times of unity and division, fervor and laxity, freedom and persecution. As we religious think of the Church as mediating God's call through Jesus, we ought not to romanticize our idea of the Church, but accept it in all its weakness, defects, and even sins. Despite imperfections and even perversities, it remains a vehicle whereby God communicates to us the divine word and the power to renew our lives. Through the Church we tlgl~ / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 have access to God. The Church may be a besmirched sacrament of God's union with humanity and of all men and women with one another--a sacrament badly in need of being cleansed and polished. But it is still that sacrament and our need of it is profound. And it may not be as badly besmirched as many people take for granted in this era of suspicion towards all institutions. The Church civilized barbarian Europe, preserved the vestiges of classical culture, and provided for the sick, handicapped, and poor until the modern state developed and could take over social concerns. Even now it is the Church, along with other voluntary associa-tions, which cares for people who fall between the cracks of social welfare in modern society. Not only is Jesus' call to religious life mediated by the Church but also our response. Founders of religious orders and congregations, the ancient commentators on monastic life, preachers of retreats, congregations' chap-ters, and canonical legislation over the centuries have interpreted the so-called evangelical counsels, laid down rules to safeguard their practice, and confirmed the constitutions of orders and congregations. Religious respond to God's call in Jesus by using this interpretation, these regulations, and these constitutions in the guidance of their lives. The Church, moreover, prays for religious. This is eminently obvious in the liturgies for religious profession, but appears also from time to time in the general intercessions at Mass and in the Liturgy of the Hours. Many members of God's people, such as parents or friends, pray for religious in unofficial ways. All these prayers intercede for religious, not simply that they be called by God, but that they cooperate with that call by responding with the gift of their lives. The apostolates which religious engage in are approved by the Church, or assigned by the Church, or carried out in the name of the Church, and serve the needs of the Church, both in its inner life and in its mission to the world. Insofar as the ministry of religious constitutes part of their response to God's and Jesus' call, that part of their response is also mediated by the Church. We religious need to be increasingly appreciative that the ecclesial life in which we participate is a concrete way of saying yes to God's call through Jesus Christ. God's call and our response, constitutive of religious life, are further mediated by a religious order or congregation. The call through Jesus and the Church comes to an individual through some community whose members, ideals, apostolate, and lifestyle attract attention and evoke a desire to participate. Perhaps only one religious community has ever been enticing, or several may have proved interesting but eventually one is singled out as the concrete form of God's call and of personal response. Sometimes the religious congregation that draws a person is one encoun- Religious Life: God's Call / 499 tered first in childhood; sometimes the one known most recently in adult-hood embodies God's call. The contact with the religious group may have been initiated through vocational literature or through acquaintance with some members of the congregation. The admissions procedure and basic formation program of a religious community mediate God's call either to that community or to some other group, or even to another way of Christian life. A community's constitutions, its chapters' decisions, and its ministries are all further mediations of God's call to the community's members. The congregation's life and mission, taken up and lived by the members of the community, become the concrete form in which they say yes to God's call through Jesus Christ mediated by the Church. Religious life as life which flows from the depths of persons toward God assumes a pattern of organization which characterizes a particular religious group. Hence the importance of appreciating one's congregational history, life, ministry, constitutions, and members, for they all convey concretely, existentially, in a down-to-earth way both God's call and our response through Jesus Christ and through the Church. Finally, God's call is mediated through our personal history. It is not difficult to see our response to God's call as mediated through personal history, for our response is precisely our living out in time our personal religious life. But personal history also mediates the call from God. Our temperament, character, personality, neuroses, talents that incline us to find religious life attractive and a particular congregation congenial have been inherited from parents, family, teachers, friends, and other significant people in our lives. The social environment in which we grew up, the schooling we had, work experiences, and events which made deep impressions on our psyches have all left traces in us which contribute to making religious life appealing and this order or congregation attractive. In religious life many similar factors enter into our history to confirm our continuation in that way of life. Still other factors peculiar to religious life support our further dedication, such as agreeable experiences of com-munity, enjoymeht and success in ministry, satisfaction of the desire for prayer, and the gratifying sense of helping others in need. Since we believe that our lives are guided by divine providence, we believe that all these factors which make religious life attractive and fulfill-ing are indeed God's call to us to follow Christ in religious life. Self-knowl-edge, then, plays an important role in discerning God's call to religious life and in assessing the quality of our response to that call. Why do we need to consider these mediations of God's call and our response? The answer is: to be realistic and avoid false idealism. We need to recognize that the mediation of God's call through Jesus, especially as 500 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 further mediated through the very human realities of the Church, a religious community, and personal history means that the call is now always going to be clear. At times we may scarcely "hear" it; at other times it will seem obvious. On some occasions it will appear to be a certain path on which to follow Jesus; but at other times it will seem risky, a gamble, of dubious value. The mediation of our response will sometimes be exciting, adventur-ous, a joyful and deeply satisfying enterprise; at other times it will be prosaic, routine, dull, and even boring; and at still other times it will be chaotic, exasperating, and exhausting physically and emotionally. So fidelity to the moments of obvious call and fulfilling response must tide us over times of obscurity and dullness. Young religious in particular are apt to idealize elements of religious life. They expect more from religious community than it can actually provide. Unrealistic expectations of the change that they can effect in the lives of individuals and society through their ministry can lead to disap-pointment and discouragement when those expectations are not fulfilled. But if we understand that even in these less satisfying and less brilliant moments of religious life God is efficaciously calling us and we are working out our response, some value can be found even in the commonplace and unsuccessful. Indeed, those situations can purify our motivation. We hear and answer God's call because it is God's call and we wish to give our lives to God, not because we find delight or satisfaction in the particular form in which God's call comes or in which our response is given. God's call is mediated through Jesus. Jesus referred to God as his Abba (Father) and so distinguished his person from the person of Abba. Our call to religious life, and the one to whom we respond, is ultimately the first person of the Trinity, the font of divine life in the Trinity, the origin without origin among the three divine persons. Jesus as Son is the image of the first person of the Trinity and in his humanity conveys to us the Father's call to share in the divine life. The Son incarnate also provides for us the model for sharing in the life of the Trinity, namely, to receive all we have from the Father and return it to the Father. We are enabled to regard the first person of the Trinity in this way and to have faith in the Son incarnate as conveying God's call to us and exemplifying for us our response because Jesus' Abba and the risen Jesus have poured forth into our hearts their Holy Spirit, the third person of the Trinity. The Spirit is the love binding Father and Son together in the divine life, and the Spirit then binds us into the triune life through the life which she engenders in our hearts. God's call and our response which constitute our religious life entails Religious Ltfe: God's Call / 501 our being related to each of the three divine persons of the Trinity: being called by the Father, responding by the power of the Spirit, hearing the call and making our response through the Son. NOTES ~Method in Theology (New York: Herder and Herder, 1972), pp. 2-20. 2For studies of these scriptural passages in relation to religious life, see Francis Moloney, Disciples and Prophets (New York: Crossroads, 1981) pp. 9-12, 19-31, 62-63, 89-90, 105-14, 133-54; John M. Lozano, Discipleship: Toward an Understanding of Religious life (Chicago: Claret Center for Resources in Spirituality, 1980), pp. 5-18, 31-38. Christ the Center of Our Vowed Life b.v Boniface Ramsey, O.P. Father Ramsey's three articles on the vows of religion are available as a single reprint: i - The Center of Religious Poverty ii - Christocentric Celibacy iii - Cruciform Obedience Price: $1.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. .St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Expectations in Religious Community James Fitz, S.M. Father Fitz is a member of the provincial administration of the Cincinnati province of his community. Prior to that, he was director of novices for six years. He may be addressed at the Marianist Provincialate; 4435 East Patterson Road; Dayton, Ohio 45430-1095. In the Old Testament, God and Israel are major partners in covenant. God has certain expectations of Israel; Israel has certain expectations of God. These mutual expectations become a source of security for Israel and a call for Israel to be what it is capable of becoming. The very nature of covenant implies life-enhancing expectations. In the New Testament, we, the Church, have become the people of the new covenant. Again expecta-tions are part of the covenant. For example, "This is my commandment: love one another as I have loved you"(Jn 15:12). Faithfulness to the cove-nant is one of the characteristics of our God; unfaithfulness has often been our response. However, God continues to call us, his people, to all that we are capable of becoming. Our God is faithful even when we are unfaithful. Covenant is the basis of our commitment to one another in religious communities. We join communities because we can do some things in community that we cannot do alone. In community we find the support and challenge to be the disciples of Christ that we are called to be. The Christian call is a continual call. We are made to be in union with others; none of us is complete in ourselves. Since we are made in the image and likeness of our God who is loving, generative and faithful, we will not be fulfilled unless we love, give life and are faithful. In the covenant communities we form as religious, we too have expec-tations of one another. Although expectations are not the only ingredient 502 Expectations in Religious Community / 503 for good community, I have learned during the past nine years in a leader-ship role in religious community the important role expectations play in building community and also the problematical role of hidden and unreal expectations. There are two important dynamics in terms of our expecta-tions in community. First, it is important that members of communities identify their expectations of one another in order that hidden expectations do not lead to unnecessary tension and conflict. Secondly, after expecta-tions are identified, it is important to sort out which are life-enhancing and which are not. It is important to identify expectations that we are capable of meeting, which call us to be the persons God calls us to be, and in which it is worth investing our energy. I have found it helpful to understand clearly what are fai? and realistic expectations. These expectations are based on who we are and what we are capable of becoming. On the one hand, we cannot expect from others something that is not truly possible for them to be. On the other hand, our expectations should call them to be the best that they can be. Since our expectatigns are to be fair and realistic, there are some things we cannot expect. We can hope that they happen, but we cannot expect them. An example may be illustrative. We can hope that we will have a deep friend-ship with each member of our local community. However we cannot expect or demand that each becomes our friend. Friendship is a gi~ that must be received, not an expectation that can be demanded. Fair and realistic expectations, clearly stated, are the building blocks for a Gospel community of one mind and one heart. With obvious room for forgiveness for human failings, it is important in covenant community that we invite and challenge each other to meet the fair and realistic expectations we have set in our covenant. If we grant that clear expectations are important to community, then it is important to identify the realistic expectations we can have in Christian community. What are the expectations that call us forth to build together the community of one mind and one heart that is the invitation of the New Testament Scriptures? There are probably many that could be listed. My experience has surfaced five important expectations: respect, honesty, care, forgiveness and faithfulness. Respect The dignity of the human person is one of the basic principles of Catholic social thought and an important basis for building Christian community. Therefore, the mutual respect of the dignity of each person is an important expectation in community. Members of a community will never bring their human potential to actuality unless there is a true respect 51~4 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 of that potential and the invitation to use it. There are many ways that we can demonstrate respect for one another in community. For example, it is important that we listen to one another when we speak. We do not have to agree with others, but the Gospel calls us to give others our full attention when they speak. For example, do 1 try to hear another's concern? Do I listen well enough to be able to feed back that concern, or am I busy formulating a response before I really hear what is being said? Do I try to be sensitive to nonverbal as well as verbal messages? Another form of respect would be to respect one another's privacy and .need for quiet, to respect one another's personal belongings. Examples of respect could be multiplied. It should be clear that without a mutual respect, little can be done to build a rich community experience. Honesty Honesty is one of the basic elements for building any type of relation-ship but especially a trust relationship. Since some level of trust is necessary for community, honesty is an important covenant expectation. The honesty about which I speak is not a harsh, brutal honesty but an honesty that proceeds from a loving and compassionate heart modeled on Jesus. It is an honesty based on the conviction that the truth will set us free (Jn 8:32). I find that the lack of honesty in community is one of the principal obstacles to real growth in the common heart and soul to which we are invited by the New Testament experience. Religious, in my experience, often have difficulty expressing and dealing with their true feelings, whether positive or negative. Fearful of phony affirmation, some religious are afraid to say what they like about their brothers and sisters. Others of us have difficulty accepting positive affirmation when it comes our way. We also have problems with negative feelings. Somehow we hope that they will go away or no one will notice. However, as we know, negative feelings generally do get expressed, sometimes in passive-aggressive behavior. I sometimes marvel at how long it takes us to express our negative feelings when a discussion of them could eliminate a great deal of tension. Our fear of confrontation can lead us to hold onto our negative feelings. But have we not also learned that the honest and charitable discussion of our feelings can lead to deeper and more understanding relationships? Some of my best friendships have come to fruition because I have honestly shared some negative feelings in a desire to create deeper relationships. Even when honesty has not led to deeper, relationship, the mutual understanding and respect has most often led to the lessening of tension. One of the greatest hurts for me in community is hearing criticism second hand. It bothers me Expectations in Religious Community because it means the possibility of deeper relationship is blocked. When we care enough for others to affirm and confront them honestly, there is a possibility of deeper relationship and for a union of hearts. Compassionate and loving honesty is not the only ingredient for unity in community. But no community can develop without it. Without an expe-rience of honesty, we can never feel secure enough to trust one another, and share on the level that bonds more deeply in our mutual covenant. Care The expectation of care flows from the call of the Gospel: "Whatever you do to the least of my brothers and sisters, you do unto me" (Mt 25:40). We are called upon to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the sick (notice the Gospel does not say we must be attracted by them). We are asked to care. In community we should care about each of our brothers and sisters. We should care about their spiritual growth, their physical health, and their other needs for full life. It would be a tragedy in my mind if a brother in my community were in the hospital and none of us had the time to visit, if a brother was struggling with his commitment to celibacy and no one cared enough to talk to him about the issue, or if a brother was drinking himself into the grave and no one intervened. It is true that if we are not careful some can manipulate us in this area by trying to lay guilt on us. But that should not stop us from honestly giving of ourselves in care of others. In fact our care should lead us to challenge the manipulating brother or sister; it should lead us to challenge him or her firmly and compassionately to adult living. In order to avoid unreal expectations, it is important to distinguish care from friendship. Care and friendship are not the same. We can honestly care for a brother or sister who is not a friend. Friendship is a relationship of mutual attraction, sharing and trust. In Christian community, we can reasonably expect some care when we are sick or hungry or lonely. How-ever, we cannot demand friendship. We can offer the gift of care, love, and trust and hope for a response to that gift, but we must remember that these can never become a demand. Forgiveness Forgiveness is also an important expectation in community. We are all imperfect human persons in process towards fullness of life; we are reli-gious on a journey. Like St. Paul, we do the things we do not want to do and do not do the things we want to do. Therefore, we must be willing to forgive our brothers and sisters when they ask for forgiveness. Forgiveness does not necessarily mean to forget as some popular wisdom has it. But it 506 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 does mean to heal the events of our lives. Some of the hurts in our relationships with fellow community members may be hard to forget but healing will lead us to remember the events in a new way. We can grow to view these events as moments of grace in our relationship and remember them in that way. They become moments of reconciliation. So we need to forgive others and to forgive ourselves; we need others to forgive us. Both dynamics are necessary if we are to grow together in the common heart and soul of the New Testament ideal. Faithfulness Finally, I .feel we can expect faithfulness in community since we are made in the image and likeness of a faithful God. This faithfulness is expressed, for example, in community agreements and in the community mission. If, for our growth as a faith community, we agree to pray together in the morning and evening, then it is fair to expect members of the community to be present. If we agree to meet on Monday evening to develop and coordinate our common mission, then it is fair to expect that we will all be there for the meeting. If we decide to live simply by sharing the cooking, then we can expect all to share the task. Obviously we can make exceptions to an agreement. But those with whom we have made an agreement have a voice in the exception. For example, if we have agreed to do the cooking, and one member finds it difficult or impossible to do, he or she should share that with the community either at the time the agreement is made or when he or she finds out that it is impossible to fulfill the terms of the agreement. Then we can renegotiate the agreement in some way satisfactory or at least acceptable to all involved. We are made in the image and likeness of a faithful God; we should invite and challenge one another to be the faithful people we are capable of becoming. Conclusion There are probably other expectations that are fair and realistic in covenant community. But the ones developed in this article are essential if our community life is to have a healthy sense of security and is to be life-enhancing. Communities can even agree to more expectations of one another (times of prayer, sharing personal faith, simple living statements, and so forth). The important thing for developing a community of one mind and one heart is that expectations be as clear as possible. Without clear expectations we create an environment for tension and conflict. Clarified expectations will not lead to deep community life. This is only a start. As I mentioned at the beginning, expectations are not the only ingredient in good Christian religious community. I have found that good Expectations in Religious Community / 507 community goes beyond expectations. There are many attitudes that con-tribute to good community life: trust, generosity, patience, and so forth. In focusing on expectations, the most important attitude to keep in mind is generosity. "If your brother (or sister) asks you to go one mile, go two" (Mt 6:41). We should not count in community. We should not first be concerned about how others perform. We should examine our own per-formance. "Remove the plank from your own eye first; then you will see clearly to take the speck from your brother's (sister's) eye" (Mt 7:5). Our God is faithful to us even when we are unfaithful. To be a creative agent of community we must remain faithful to our covenant even when our brother or sister is unfaithful. We should be generous as our God in heaven has been generous with us. "Love one another as I have loved you" (1 Jn 15:12). God has taken the initiative in our lives; we are called to do the same for our brothers and sisters. If everyone is giving generously in community, we have the foundation on which deep Christian community can develop. We have the strongest foundation for a life of one mind and one heart. Friendship It seems but a word on this page. It cannot, does not, describe-- a patient listening, a gentle touch; soft, comforting nearness, forgiveness--waiting ready before the hurt, hilarity shared together (Snoopy-dancing--you are a crazy person, you know!) tears--hard-coming, yet trustingly dampen my heart, insights, thoughts, dreams, ESP?. yes! remembering--in prayer, close to my heart honest, pulling and dragging (sometimes fearfully) each the other-- forward, closer, faithful It cannot contain--my friend, my other self., this mere word Love. Sister Mary Therese Macys, S.S.C. 2601 W. Marquette Road Chicago, Illinois 60629 ToSee the Other Side. George J. Schemel, S.J. Father Schemel is founder and director of the newly formed Institute for Contempor-ary Spirituality at the University of Scranton (Scranton, Pennsylvania 18510). An earlier article of Father Schemel was "In Time of Consolation." which appeared in the issue of January/February, 1985. The need for enabling and empowering structures for groups increases as the group's complexity increases. There are just and unjust structures right within our own apostolic and community operations. To be insensitive to our own unjust structures and processes makes us less believable when we address such structures in society at large. The injustice is found in the very process of coming to decision. It is this unjust process that allows us to walk over the deeply held personal values of another. It is truly a personally oppressive structure, inefficient in method and leading to poor apostolic decisions. Yet it passes unnoticed and uncorrected because of ignorance and lack of awareness in this area, though often little personal culpability is involved. The objective wrong is great, however, and cannot be condoned just because of ignorance or lack of awareness. The average community meeting, with its amorphous structure and ill-defined processes is often a nightmare of unjust structures. In general there are few, if any, haphazardly just structures. What just structures and processes there are, flourish because of much examination, evaluation, and consistent implementation. Not to be consciously structured is usually to be unjustly structured. It is my observation and experience that most unjust structures in religious life, both on the one-to-one interpersonal level and on the level of . 5O8 To See the Other Side. / 509 the group apostolate or community, come from lack of "thinking" as this is understood in the Jungian perspective. This notion of thinking is character-ized by discursive logic and the isolation of variables. There are other sources of injustice in our apostolates and community life, of course,~ but none is so pervasive as this lack of thinking. The orientation and cast of our religious apostolates and communities are so overwhelmingly affective that the lack of formal thinking is not even noticed directly. We become aware of it only in its effects; the disruption and confusion caused by processes which largely ignore the thinking function. It is taken as axiomatic in the realm of interpersonal relationship that we must not hurt anyone's feelings. It is my contention that one's thinking is due the same respect and care; this is far from obvious in most religious circles today. I would like to present a proper process of coming to decision that will be just, efficient and phenomenologically correct. Reflecting on the process will also help "convict and convert" attitudes; unjust processes and atti-tudes will show up in high relief. The process will involve achieving consen-sus on different levels of an issue and moving through to a final decision. It will move from an assimilation of pertinent facts and data, through an appreciation of the interrelatedness, interconnections, and potentialities of the data and facts, through a discursive rationality of necessary causal nexus, to final judgment of fittingness and suitability. It will follow the functionally sequential "gradient of more difficult consensus." S--N--T--F In order to establish an adequate vocabulary with which to talk about this problem, I would like to call on the matrix of psychological types elaborated by C.G. Jung and its current popularization by the Myers Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI). I will give only a short summary here, and refer those interested in a further development of psychological types and the MBTI to other sources where a more complete understanding may be pursued.2 Those already very familiar with type theory may want to skip to page 513. Type Theory In order to account for certain consistencies and inconsistencies in behavior that he observed among different types of people, Jung elabo-rated his theory of psychological type. The theory, in essence, sees all conscious mental activity as reducible to two main processes, perception and judgment. Perception is a process of "becoming aware of."; of gathering data, taking in information. It is a non-rational process. We do this work of ~$'10 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 taking in data in one of two ways: either by "sensation" or by "intuition." Actually of course we use both these functions, Sensation and iNtuition, to gather in information, but we have a decided preference for one way or the other. We cannot take in data by both Sensation and iNtuition at the same time. At best, they can operate sequentially, but one way will be decidedly preferred to the other. (Note that it is common usage to indicate Sensation by "S" and intuition by "N'; 'T' is reserved for Introversion). Sensation is perception or data gathering by the concrete singular. It takes in specifics, by use of the five senses. It perceives things one at a time. Sensation is tolerant of routine, sameness, specified procedures. Sometimes it can't see the forest for the tree. Sensation has a present-time orientation. The other form of perception is intuition. It perceives in terms of patterns, relationships; intuition sees possibilities, interconnections, impli-cations. It is perception by way of the unconscious. INtuition likes variety, challenge, is future-time oriented. Sometimes it can't see the tree for the forest. Besides the non-rational perceptive functions Sensation and intuition which simply take in information and gather data, there are two rational functions, Thinking and Feeling. The rational functions prioritize, rank, sort out the data taken in. They hierarchize the information and make judgments on it. They come to closure on perceptions. These are the two judging functions whose work it is to come to conclusions about the data taken in. They are opposing ways of judging, and cannot proceed at the same time. At best they can be sequential.3 Thinking moves to conclusion from principles, logically attending to necessary connections and cause-effect relationships. Consistency and validity are important, and principles are applied objectively, "whether I like it or not." The value sought is "The True." Thinking has an a-temporal and un-contextualized time orientation. Feeling comes to conclusion by an associative process, by analogy, comparison, association. Harmony and suitability are important, and are judged from a more subjective stance. The value orientation is toward "The Good." Feeling has a past and traditional time orientation. One of these, either Thinking or Feeling, will be much preferred to the other for making judgments and coming to conclusions. It is important to note that we cannot use opposing functions at the same time. Sensing halts Intuiting; Intuiting halts Sensing. Thinking halts Feeling; Feeling halts Thinking. Neither can we perceive and judge at the same time. Judging halts perceiving; perceiving halts judging. Nor do we use all four functions with equal skill and confidence. Yet quality decisions are made only with the adequate contributions of all four functions. Indi- To See the Other Side. / 511 vidually and especially in groups, it is important to implement structures which assure the application of all four functions to any given issue. Since the natural autonomy, even antipathy, among the four functions precludes their being applied at the same time, they must be applied sequentially. A person will have an attitude toward the outside world that takes its cue from the judging functions (Thinking or Feeling) and will be called a Judging attitude, or he or she will have an attitude toward the outside world that takes its cue from the perceiving functions Sensation or iNtui- " tion) and will be called a Perceiving attitude. Note that both these attitudes, J and P, are toward the outside world. This attitude toward the outside world J or P is not to be confused with Extraversion or Introversion, which indicates the person's "preferred world." The preference for the world inside oneself--the world of ideas and thoughts and inner feeling is known as Introversion. Its opposite, a prefer-ence for the world outside oneself--the world of people, events, happen-ings, objects--is known as Extraversion. Both introverts and extraverts have an attitude, either J or P, toward the outside world. For a treatment of Extraversion and Introversion see Gifts Differing. A person's type is constituted in large part by his or her preference for one of the two perceiving functions, S or N, and one of the two judging functions, T or E The possibilities are: ST, SF, NT, NE One perceiving . function plus one judging function constitute the preferred functionality of the person. Of these two functions, however, one will be favored and preferred over the other. One will be the "boss" function, and the other the helper function. So an individual will be one of the following: ST, ST, SF, SF, NT, NT, NF, NF, where the underlined function is the "boss" or Dominant function and the other is the helper or Auxiliary function. The dominant function is the real rudder or kingpin of the psychological type. In "conflict of interest" cases, the dominant always gets its way. For an understanding of the Judging and Perceiving attitudes and the Extraverted and Introverted attitudes, which also throw much light on meeting dynamics, see some of the literature cited. There is a dangerous misunderstanding current concerning the Feeling function--"F"--among those who use the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator and the psychological matrix of C. G. Jung which undergirds it. It is widespread even among those who administer and teach the instrument. It is doubly dangerous because it leads to a misunderstanding of the correlate of Feeling, which is the Thinking function, "T." One frequently hears the (mistaken) pronouncements: "Feeling is interested in values, Thinking is interested in principles and logic." "Feeling is personal, Thinking is impersonal." Both of these statements are half- 512 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 truths, and therefore very dangerous and misleading. Let us analyze the Thinking and Feeling functions for a more accurate understanding than these too-easy assessments afford. To say that Feeling is interested in values and Thinking is interested in principles and logic is to compare apples and oranges, process and product. The value that attracts Feeling is "The Good." The value that attracts Thinking is "The True." The process used by Thinking is objective (in that sense impersonal) proceeding from principles, using logic and cause-and-effect relationships. The process of Feeling is a subjective (in that sense personal) associative process, a process of comparison, analogy, using per-sonal association and past experience. Neither Thinking nor Feeling in the first instance says anything about emotion. Emotion is the first register of value in the human person, whether that value is seen as coming under the aegis of "The Good," (Feeling), or as coming under the aegis of "The True" (Thinking). Both Thinking and Feeling according to Jung are rational functions. They both hierarchize, rank, come to closure, judge on the basis of the value that attracts them: The Good for Feeling and The True for Think-ing. Ideally, or one might say transcendentally, both The Good and The True are the same. But each person has a particular and delimited appreci-ation of that higher unity according as he or she judges by Thinking or by Feeling.4 An example may further help clarify and distinguish the Feeling func-tion from its first register of value, emotion. (The first register of value for the Thinking function is also emotion.) St. Thomas Aquinas addresses the question: "Whether Christ's mother remained a virgin after his birth?" (S.T. Ilia, Q.28, a.3) St. Thomas cites several well-known texts from Scripture that would indicate that Mary had other children after the birth of Jesus: Mt 1:18, 1:20, 1:24, Rm 8:29, Jn 2:12, Mt 27:55, Jn 19:25. He then puts together these last two texts to form an argument that Mary had other children after the birth of Jesus. Mt 27 says: "Many women were there [that is, by the cross of Christ] watching from a distance, the same women who had followed Jesus from Galilee and looked after him. Among them were Mary of Magdala, Mary the mother of James and Joseph, and the mother of Zebedee's sons." Thomas puts this together with the Jn 19 text: "There stood by the cross of Jesus, Mary his mother." It follows that if Mary the mother of Jesus who was standing by the cross and the Mary who was the mother of James and Joseph was the same Mary, then Mary had other children besides Jesus. St. Thomas takes care of the exegetical questions adroitly enough, so that Scripture is not gainsaid. The clinching reasons against Mary having other children after the birth of To See the Other Side. / 513 Jesus, however, are Feeling reasons, in the true sense of Feeling. He says it is unthinkable that Mary would have other children besides Jesus, because, ". as he [Jesus] is in his divine nature the only-begotten of the Father and his Son, perfect in every respect, so it was fitting that he should be the only-begotten of his mother, as being her perfect offspring." Another rea-son Thomas gives--a Feeling reason--is that it would make Mary seem ungrateful, not to be content with such a Son. Note that these are not the same kind of reasons given for Jesus not being the only child of Mary: If the Mary of Mt. 27 (mother of James and Joseph) Is the Mary of Jn 19 (the mother of Jesus) Then Jesus was not the only child of Mary. This is "T"--Thinking rationality. But ". as he was the only-begotten of His Father, so He was the only-begotten of His Mother" is not "T," Thinking rationality, it is "F," Feeling rationality. It is a reason from fittingness, appropriateness, seemliness; it is ~'becoming" that Jesus be the only child of Mary. This is the meaning of Feeling in the Jungian matrix and the Myers-Briggs. It is not emotion or feeling in the common parlance, but a judgment of fittingness, seemliness, becomingness. It is brought to bear after the Thinking judgment has done what it can with the data, not before Thinking or instead of Thinking. It is the ambit of "F," Feeling rationality, to historicize and contextual-ize the a-temporal judgment of "T," Thinking, but not replace it.5 Feeling needs to be fed and focused by the objectivity of Thinking. Otherwise one has inauthentic Feeling and a too subjective Feeling judgment. Thinking needs the completion of another rationality, one not necessitated by logic and cause-effect relationships, but personalized/subjectivized and opened out to a wider gestalt. Feeling, without the backbone of Thinking behind it, is purely subjec-tive, personal and, therefore, not interpersonal. It can indeed become emo-tion and not be a rationality of fittingness or suitability, but mere whim or fancy. This is what is meant by a "mood," which is not a personal expe-rience. The mood has the person rather than the person having the mood. It is the opening door to projections and confusion, especially in a group. Application to Meetings Equipped with this understanding of psychological functionality, let us reflect on the relatively unstructured or poorly structured meeting. The purpose of most group meetings is to come to some kind of consensus. That is why the meeting is held in the first place. Many come to a meeting assuming there is already a consensus on a given issue. This is 5111 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 often more counterproductive than assuming that there is not. A consensus is a delicate affair; it is a "con-sentire," a "feeling-together-with." An assumption either that there is a consensus on a given issue or that there is not, is vastly disruptive of the possibility of arriving at a consensus. Since a consensus is a delicate affair, it must be wooed, as a lover is wooed. One has to have the tact to know where to begin to discover what consensus is there already, and to raise it to the level of insight and usabil-ity. An attempt to "build a consensus" on a given issue is counterproduc-tive. Rather, one first discovers what consensus actually exists, and brings that to consciousness and articulation. Once that consensus is recognized and owned, the scene is set to pass on to a higher level of "con-sentire." The process of arriving at consensus is not a "building"; this has too much the connotation of hammer and nail, muscular effort to persuade, even coer-cion. Rather, the process of arriving at consensus is one of discovery and articulation. Once a group (meeting) articulates a true consensus, it has already passed beyond it, and it is ready for the next discovery, the new and higher level of consensus. It must be, however, the articulation of a true consen-sus. It must not be assumed. It must be articulated and all must agree to the lower level of consensus before attempting to arrive at a higher level. Perhaps this will come as a surprise, after saying how delicate is the matter of arriving at consensus, and that one should not assume that there is a consensus on a given issue. There is, however, always a consensus in a group! Perhaps not on a given issue, or on the level of consensus one would like, but there is always a consensus in a group. Otherwise the group would not be meeting. This is the key assumption that I am making. A moment's thought will indicate that if a group (not a "crowd" or a "gang") comes together, it is coming together for a purpose. Implicit in this broad purpose are concrete points of consensus and a desire for further consensus. There already exists the consensus that "we want" a "con-sentire'" if at all possible. There is the further shared hope that we can arrive at a consensus on some particular issues. There are many other points of concrete consensus in the group also. (Deficiency in these attitudes will indicate the highly controlling or manipulative person.) The place to start looking for consensus on pro-gram level issues is here, among the patterns of consensus that already are resident in the group. A group does not arrive at a consensus by building from the top down any more than a construction company builds a building from the top down. One starts from the bottom up. One begins at the bottom and works up. Whenever a group can articulate a consensus, it has already passed beyond it and is ready for the next level of insight and consensus. Once it To See the Other Side. / 515 has articulated and owned that next level of insight and consensus, it is ready for the next, and so on. Thus the group is moving toward its limit of consensus consciousness bit by bit--by articulating known levels of con-sensus and allowing the group to find its way to ever higher and more specific and programmatic levels of con-sentire. A functional, structural way to help a group move from a lower and perhaps largely unconscious level (myth level) of consensus to an ever higher level of programmatic consensus is to follow the natural order of perceiving, then judging. The schema herein suggested implicitly takes into account dominant and auxiliary functions and introverted and extraverted functions. Since coming to a consensus judgment implies a need to perceive in order to judge, there is a "natural" sequential order to arriving at quality decisions, whether personal or group decisions. Perceiving comes before judging. In attempting to unearth any resident consensus in the group and free it to move toward higher levels of programmatic consensus, the natural sequential dependence of the functions should be followed: S--N--T--F The group, just as an individual, will have a strong bias to spend time and energy in its Dominant and Auxiliary functions. It sometimes wants to wallow in its Dominant, without using even its Auxiliary, let alone using its non-preferred functions. It is here too that many religious groups with a preponderance of people with a preference for "F" rationality unwittingly thwart their own process of coming to consensus. Almost always they begin looking for consensus on the "F" level. This is to begin the process at its end-point! Each individual has a preference for one of the two perceiving func-tions (either Sensation or iNtuition), and one of the two judging functions Thinking or Feeling) already established in the Dominant and Auxiliary (with an inclination more toward perceiving or more toward judging). Most often, the importance of the other perceiving function and the other judging function is not recognized. Yet these less preferred functions are also necessary not only for quality decision making, but even for adequate decision making. Thus a person who is an NT will naturally prefer to do his perceiving by iNtuition and his judging by Thinking; but he needs the help of Sensate perception and Feeling judgment if his decisions are to be quality decisions, reflecting the objectivity and contextuality of sensate perception and feeling rationality. So with all the various preferences. 516 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 Both Sensate and intuitive perception are necessary for judging. Intui-tion depends on Sensate details, however slightly noted, for registering Intuitive connections and possibilities. The Sensate process may be less conscious, but the Sensate function is always at work recording sensate impressions. The Intuitive process may be less conscious, but the intuitive function is always registering connections and relations among sensate data perceived. Even when the Thinking function is not preferred or developed, the Thinking function first examines intuited connections and possibilities and determines inevitable cause-effect consequences. Whether carefully attended to or slight and unobserved, the Thinking function provides the Feeling function with an an.alysis of what has been perceived. The Feeling function receives what has been thus perceived and judged, and examines it in the light of contextual suitability. Whether carefully attended to or slight and unobserved, the Feeling function completes the judgment of present per-ceptions and present consequences in their historical context and in terms of the rationality of suitability, appropriateness, fittingness. Just as each individual has her profile and preferences, so a group has its profile and its preferences. The group profile is the sum and extrapola-tion of the profiles of the individuals who compose it.6 The disciplined group asks its members to first "S" it on a given issue, to use the Sensate function. Get the raw data. Get the concrete informa-tion. While doing this, those who naturally prefer "S" as their perceiving function are in their element, and the Intuitives are asked to stretch a bit, as the whole group strives .to assimilate the Sensate data. Once that task is accomplished, the Sensate data is handed over to intuitive perception to see the possibilities inherent in the data; to see the interconnections and implications and future potentialities. During this part of the group's task the iNtuitives will be in their element and the Sensates will be required to do the stretching now. But it is a temporary inconvenience for a permanent improvement; the group now knows "what it is talking about." The issue has been perceived with no prejudice as to function; all perceptions have been honored. We have moved thus in the natural sequence: S~N Now comes a big moment. It is time to hand over the matter perceived to judgment. Here the group must be very careful that it does not get into the final Feeling judgment. It is not yet asking the final question, the "go or no-go" decision. It is not asking yet "what will the traffic bear?" Or "should we do it or not?" It is asking for the Thinking judgment of the group to be applied. It is looking for inevitable consequences, cause-effect relation- To See the Other Side. / 517 ships, what are the necessities involved. Symbolically it can be represented like this: S--N--T Perceiving is finished, and the group is entering into the first stage of judgment, Thinking judgment. Now all are asked to "T" it--to use Think-ing judgment. Here those who naturally prefer Thinking judgment for coming to closure and conclusion are in their element, and those who prefer Feeling judgment are asked to stretch a bit. If this phase is neglected, even those who naturally prefer the Feeling function for their decision making will feel restless and insecure in their Feeling judgment. It will be almost intolerable for those who naturally prefer the Thinking function for their decision making if this phase is slighted; as intolerable for Thinkers as it would be for Feelers if no Feeling function were ever brought to bear. A Thinker might well be feeling: "I won't hurt your feeling if you don't hurt my thinking." That is, there are certain aspects of rationality that must be taken care of or the Thinker is "stuck"; he can't go forward. He cannot proceed to a "con-sentire,"a feeling-together-with, to a fruitful and con-textualized judgment of fittingness--the Feeling judgment. Having done its perceiving by both Sensation and intuition, and handed the matter thus perceived over to the first phase ofjudgment--"T" rationality, the group is now ready to pass on to the final and most difficult phase of consensus seeking, that of Feeling rationality. S--N--T--F In this phase the judgments of fittingness, suitability, appropriateness are in order--but not before this phase. This is the ". all things consid-ered, this is where I am" time. But a group should not be in that time unless it has passed through the previous three phases in sequence. This is in accord with what was said above--letting the group move upward from consensus to consensus from the lower to the higher "con-sentire." Note that moving according to the sequential dependence of the functions: S--N--T--F is following "the gradient of more difficult consensus." The easiest area to find consensus is in the sensate data. It is the area most open to "consensus consciousness." Sensate data is available to the five senses, is the most objective kind of perception and is least open to subjective and idiosyn-cratic interpretation. There is no judgment involved; it is simply reporting "the facts." Next in order of ease of arriving at consensus consciousness is 5111 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 still perception, but now iNtuitive perception. INtuitive perception takes in many things that "are not there" for Sensate perception--interconnections, relatedness, future possibilities--yet which can be assimilated by Sensation rather easily once they are pointed out. Now comes "the great divide." Moving into the area of judgment poses a new level of difficulty in coming to consensus consciousness. Though Thinking judgment, the fir~st phase of rational judgment, is more objective than Feeling judgment, it is still a quantum leap in trying to arrive at consensus here over against consensus in perception. Still, there are cause-effect relationships and necessary consequences, and a compelling logic to help find the consensus in this area of Thinking rationality. S--N--T The most difficult area for consensus consciousness to emerge is in the area of Feeling judgment. This is the most personal-subjective area of judgment--the judgments of fittingness, suitability, appropriateness-- "what I like"; "what I want." Still, a true suitability and appropriateness can unify and focus a group, especially if the prior phases of Sensate and iNtuitive perception and Thinking rationality have prepared the way. S--N--T--F The various levels of consensus, of con-sentire, are, again, not some kind of equality in emotional states, but an experience of union in the proper object of the function S or N or T or F. It may, further, be an experience of union in the transcendental concern of that function--The One, The Beautiful, The True, The Good. This latter was briefly treated in the Essay on The Constructive Use of Differences. Thus, to go against or violate the "gradient of more difficult consensus" is self-defeating. Many religious groups immediately jump in to the area of Feeling judgment in considering an issue, and try to begin the consensus seeking process at its end-point. They move directly against the gradient of consensus. They go against traffic on a one-way street, and leave all kinds of mayhem and injustice in their wake. If a group hopes to focus and harness the energies and commitment of its members in a consensus decision by a process that does justice to all, following the gradient of consensus, S -- N -- T ~ F will prove a graced and productive structure. Summary In this article 1 have tried to point out: 1) Religious groups that are composed mostly of people who prefer To See the Other Side. / 519 Feeling rationality to Thinking rationality should be especially careful to employ structures that invite the contribution of Thinking rationality to decision making. Truly unjust structures can ensue from this neglect. 2) Feeling judgment in the Jungian and MBTI matrices is not emotion or sentiment; it is a judgment of suitability or appropriateness, and has noetic reference. Emotion is the first register of value for both Thinking and Feeling. 3) Consensus is a "con-sentire," a "feeling-together-with." There is always a consensus in a convening group. This resident consensus is the place to start in seeking further consensus. By the process of articulating what consensus is present in the group, the group has already passed beyond that consensus and is moving toward a new and higher level of consensus. 4) Following the sequential dependence of the functions, the "gradient of more difficult consensus" S -- N -- T -- F is a graceful structure in group work, and its understanding and application can greatly help the attitudes and contributions of those involved. NOTES tOne thinks of course of projecting our own neglected psychic concerns on others, stereotyping, transferences, and so forth. These are always present, especially, but by no means exclusively, where men and women work together. 2See Isabel Briggs Myers, with Peter B. Myers, Gifts Differing, (Palo Alto: Consulting Psychologists Press, 1980); Isabel Briggs Myers, Introduction to Type, (Gainsville: Center for Applications of Psychological Type, 1980); George J. Schemel and James A. Borbely, Facing Your Type, (Wernersville: Typrofile Press, 1982); C.G. Jung, Psy-chological Type, vol. 6, Bolingen Series XX, (Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1971). 3"Rational judgment is based not merely on objective but also on subjective data. The predominance of one or the other factor, however, as a result of psychic disposition often existing from early youth, will give the judgment a corresponding bias. A judg-ment that is truly rational will appeal to the objective and the subjective factor equally and do justice to both. But that would be an ideal case and wouldpresuppose an equal development of both extraversion and introversion. In practice, however, either movement excludes the other, and, so long as this dilemma remains, they cannot exist side by side but at best successively. Under ordinary conditions, therefore, an ideal rationality is impossible." C. G. Jung, Psychological Types [644]. 4Noting the correspondence of the four transcendentals with the four functions is not Jung's observation, but my own. The One--Sensation; the Good--Feeling; the Beauti-ful- Intuition; the True--Thinking. See Facing Your Type, pp. 3 and 4. 5George J. Schemel and James A. Borbely, Facing Your Type, (Wernersville: Typrofile Press, 1982), pp. I l- 12. 6See Facing Your Type, pp. 17-20. Religious Charism: Definition, Rediscovery and Implications Jean Marie Renfro, S.S.S. This article is based on a talk given by Sister Renfro, of the Sisters of Social Service, at a regional meeting last fall of California's Catholic Conference (CCC), the CMSM and the LCWR. Sister Renfro may be addressed at her residence: 1120 Westchester Place; Los Angeles, California 90019. We are indebted to Paul of Tarsus for putting the word charism into our religious vocabularies. We are indebted to Paul VI for giving the expression a specific meaning for us as religious women and men.~ Although Paul the Apostle used the Greek charismata a number of times, and it was often translated into Latin as "gift" or "grace," the most striking use of the word is in his first letter to the Corinthians? The classic passage speaks of (a) the great variety of gifts, (b) which the Spirit gives, (c) each one different from the other, (d) each given for the common good, (e) each given for the building up of the Body of Christ. The apostle makes a key point: he is not speaking of the baptismal grace of the presence of the Holy Spirit which belongs to all baptized Christians, but of special gifts given people with special missions. The passage is not so much about gifts as it is about the Spirit who gives the charismata. That Spirit is the one whom Jesus describes as wind which blows where it will; that Spirit whom Luke says is like a dove, a bird which takes off and flies; that Spirit who in Acts is fire and in John is living water. Now wind, fire, water are hard to contain, hard to pin down. In speaking of religious charism the underlying, fundamental premise is that Religious Charism / 52"1 we are in the realm of that unpredictable Holy Spirit. Charism was not a commonly used word down the ages, but it did strike a chord in the hearts of the Fathers of the Second Vatican Council, who used it in the same sense as did the Apostle Paul. By choosing the expression a number of times, although never in relation to religious life, they made it quite clear that the special gifts of the Spirit are not restricted to the apostolic community. Having defined the Church as the People of God, Lumen Gentium points out that there are special graces of the Spirit ("apart from the sacraments and the ministrations of the Church") which are distributed "among the faithful of every rank," gifts which make the people "fit and ready to undertake the renewal, and whether these charisms be very remarkable or more simple and widely diffused., they are fitting and useful for the needs of the Church." At the end of the passage bishops are charged with judging the genuineness and proper use of these charisms and at the same time they are reminded that their office is not to extinguish the Spirit.3 The renewal of the Church then, while under the guidance of the bishops, is truly the work of God the Holy Spirit. Religious Charisms Now if charisms are given "to the faithful of every rank," it follows that religious must also receive the Spirit's special grace. In November 1964 that seemed an obvious enough statement and it caught no one's attention. Neither Lumen Gentium's Chapter VI on religious, nor Perfectae Caritatis (October 1965) specifically used the word charism in relation to religious life; however, the concept of charism, of special gifts given for the development of religious life, was not new. For centuries there had been a common belief that the founding persons of religious communities were the recipients of special grace. The Jesuit, Jerome Nadal, writing in 1554 said: When God wants to help his Church, he first raises up a person and gives him or her a special grace and impulse under which he or she may serve God in a particular manner. This is what he did in the case of St. Francis: God gave him a particular grace for his personal growth as well as for his companions . In the same way he raised up Ignatius and granted him a grace, and through him to us . ,,4 For a millennium, pope after pope had commented on the unique gifts given to this founder, and (after a few centuries) to that foundress. This concept, together with the direction the council documents had taken, surely paved the way for the expression used by Paul VI in his Apostolic Exhortation, Evangelica Testificatio, On the Renewal of Religious Life. The Pope said that religious who wish to be faithful to the teaching of the council are those who, seeking God before all else, combine contempla- 522 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 tion with apostolic love. He continued: "By the former they cling to God in mind and heart; by the latter they strive to associate themselves with the work of redemption and to spread the kingdom of God. Only in this way you will be able to reawaken hearts to truth and to divine love in accordance with the charism of your founders, who were raised up by God within his Church."5 (Emphasis mine) The expression has been used again and again in subsequent papal docu-ments. Evangelica Testificatio was dated June 29, 1971, and countless communities were already well into the work of renewal. To understand what that phrase, "charism of your founders," meant and has come to mean to us, it is necessary to look for a moment at religious life in the 50s. The Leveling of Religious Life for Women The following observations may not apply to men's communities. They flow from my own experience of two dozen women's communities with whom I worked closely and sometimes stayed between 1953 and 1968. If anything can be said of religious women when the council began, it must be that we were faithful. We were faithful to the Church, to the pope, to our foundresses, to our constitutions, and to our communities. We meticulously kept the rule, performed our apostolates, learned to walk, to write, to speak and to dress exactly as Mother Mary Someone did one hundred, or perhaps two hundred years before somewhere in Europe. We kept her customs to perfection, whether or not they made any sense in our culture, because we believed that was what God and the Church asked of us. Consider one example among many. Visualize a group of healthy American women, some with Ph.D.s, sitting at table in silence, passing around a pan of suds to wash their dishes. No wonder we were the quaint little nuns! We reverenced everything about our lives. And everything had equal value. The special gifts which the Spirit gave the foundress were on a par with how people in her culture peeled potatoes. We were equally careful about both. Everything was leveled. Our special charism, our uniqueness, our gifts from the Holy Spirit were lost in a sea of trivia. We could have invented Trivial Pursuit. Nor was that totally our fault. In a sense the whole Church behaved in that way. We were taught to give the same credence to the teaching on Limbo and the doctrine of Resurrection. Recently I had an experience which let me see in an instant how communities lost sight of their charisms. I went to Sequoia National Park on a field trip with a geographer, who on the way up pointed out character-istics of various trees to be found in the forest we would visit. He described the giant sequoias, the biggest, the oldest trees in the world. Trees which live for two thousand years, but trees with a very shallow root system, Religious Charism having roots which extend from the trunk for yards, but always very near the surface. Because of this shallowness the sequoia needs a fire from time to time to clear the surface brush so that its roots can get the necessary nutrients. The tree itself is protected from fire by a very heavy bark with a high content of tanic acid. The sequoia is totally different from the juniper, which has an extremely long tap root, quite capable of making its way through granite, thus allowing the juniper to live on the edge of a precipice, to survive comfortably where the sequoia would never take root. Each tree has a wholeness in itself, its own beauty, its own reflection of the creative magnitude of God. I had been thinking about charism for a long time and the parallel was obvious. A few hours later I was walking in the forest, caught up in its lavish-ness. For a moment I was alone, in silence and in awe, when the silence was broken by a voice coming from the trail below me. Someone said, "Oh, sequoias, junipers, cedars--to me they are all just trees!" In an instant that person had leveled the wonders of that forest to just trees. Gone the marvelous integrity of each species. They were all just trees. That is what happened to women's communities before the Council called us to search for our own charism. We were all leveled to be just "the sisters." First everything in our lives was of equal importance, and secondly, we might as well have been one gigantic community. We knew we were different from one another and meant by God to be different, but it was an intuitive kind of knowl.edge, with not much to support it. To the rest of the world we were distinguished from one another only by some aspect of our dress. (And when we started studying the Gospels we found that the only group distinguished by its clothing had broad phylacteries and long tassels.) Frequently we did not even have a name. People, including our clerical brothers, simply said, "Sister," and we replied. Canon law leveled us still further, qqaere were pages and pages of canons that required communities of women to do things in a uniform way. Communities founded in the twentieth century ended up with virtually the same constitution as all the others, with only a paragraph, or at best a page which pertained to itself alone. I once indexed our constitution and was astounded that a Society called Sisters of Social Service had only one reference to social welfare. One final word about the leveling process. The Vatican Council, in telling us to find our own integrity, our own identity, called a sudden, sharp halt to the leveling, at least for a time. But it does continue. People find it easier to deal with, or perhaps to dismiss, the quaint little nun in her medieval garb than they do with many of today's religious women. We have educated ourselves about our charisms and their implications, but we 594 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 have not educated others. Having gone through much to discover and attempt to be faithful to our own charisms, it is painful to have people-- sometimes those who should understand--seemingly seek to level us again. For example, while I greatly admire Teresa of Calcutta, it is problematic to see her work and her way of life held up as the ideal for our day. It is the leveling process at work again; we do not all have the same charism. The Call to Renew In 1962, when the Holy Spirit and John XXIII convoked the Council, most of that amorphous mass called "the sisters," absolutely dedicated to faithfulness to the Church, were quite ready to do as we were asked--to undertake an interior renewal and to make exterior adaptations suitable to our own time. No one .yet spoke of "charism" as the Council Fathers presented us with the now famous steps to renewal. First, since the "final norm of religious life is the following of Christ as it is put before us in the Gospel, this must be taken as its supreme rule by all institutes." In other words, we were told to go back to Scripture and make it, like the Eucharist, our daily bread. Secondly, the Council Fathers were at pains to point out in several passages that there is a "wonderful variety of religious communi-ties," and that variety needed to be reemphasized. To bring about renewal we were to seek the authentic spirit of our individual founding persons, but what exactly did that mean, and how were we to go about it? Finally, since the whole Church had to learn to read and respond to the signs of the times, certainly we did, too. But how were we to adapt our lives to the changed conditions without destroying ourselves, since we saw our lives as a seamless garment. Entering into the work renewal asked of us, sparked a variety of responses in the early days. Some said we do not need to renew; we have never departed from the vision and way of life of our founder. Some women's communities, desirous of becoming fully competent in ministry, were already into Sister Formation, and were hungry for what renewal promised. We were at various stages of our journey when in 1971, Paul VI, in Evangelica Testificatio, spoke of the charism of your founders. The expression was noticed immediately because it shed great light on our search for the authentic spirit of the founder, for ''the primitive inspira-tion of the institute." By definition, charism is gift from the Spirit, generally for the good of others, but sometimes a personal gift as well. Charismata, if accepted and freely given back to the People of God, build up the Church. The concept of "charism of the founder" narrowed the focus of our search from the founder's whole way of life to how God worked in him. It led us to concentrate on the way the Spirit gifted the foundress, rather than on the Religious Charism / 525 accidents of her culture. To be told by the Church that the cultural mores of another age were not essential to our vocation was at once startling and freeing. Never again could everything about our life be valued equally. It now became urgent that we rediscover our unique identity, that we sort out the charism from the cultural traditions. Simultaneously we searched the past and the present. I suspect many communities shared the experience of my own community, the Sisters of Social Work. It seemed perfectly evident that if there is such a thing as a community charism, then it must somehow be lived by us, its members. We looked around and we were/are all so different. We asked what do we hold in common? What we shared was so obvious that we missed it at first. We did not know that we knew who we are. We did know that we were founded by women already working to alleviate and prevent social evils, and we knew we would die out if we ever ceased to fight contemporary social problems. We knew that since we often work alone on uncharted paths our ministry demanded an attentiveness to the Spirit. We knew that we were not Benedictine sisters, yet our spirit is powerfully influenced by the Benedictine tradition. We knew we were not Religious as such, but rather members of a Society of Common Life (now "Apostolic Life"). Different as we were, we shared these elements with each other; gradually we realized they came from our foundresses and define us. The late 70s were a time when many communities, struggling to find their true identity, finally understood that they did know their own unique essence, that they did know more of their own integrity than they could easily verbalize. But first many questions had to be answered. Charism and the Gospel One of the first questions with which we had to come to grips was how the Gospel, now the supreme rule of our lives, related to our charism. Some of us, overwhelmed with a new reading of the Word of God, asked why do we need anything more than the Gospel? Is not everything necessary for renewal right there? It was an honest question, for indeed it is all there. But everything needed for a holy life in any lifestyle is there. The G0spel points the way for all invited to Christian baptism, not just for religious. Then it became clear. No one person, no one community could manifest all the attributes of the Lord. Each religious family reflects a particular aspect, or a particular combination of aspects of the Gospel. Margaret Slachta, the foundress of the Sisters of Social Service, some fifty years ago, spoke of the concept of charism, although she did not name it as such. She said: God has all perfection. It's as if the perfections of God are a great globe 526 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 and religious communities are a thousand mirrors reflecting one or other of the divine attributes. The Franciscans reflect the spirit of poverty to a world always attracted to riches. The Dominicans reflect truth to a world ever flirting with error, while we reflect the sanctifying love of God to a world which does not know the Spirit.6 All of us need the Gospel as the final measuring rod of our lives, but each community needs its own special gift or specific combination of Gospel attributes or gifts from the Spirit to give it its own identity. The Founding Charism A unique gift or combination of gifts was originally the special charism of our founding mothers or fathers. That raised many questions which needed answers.7 What aspects of the Gospel were especially attractive to our founder? What ignited a flame in the heart of our foundress? What combination of Christian characteristics makes this religious family different from that one? These questions sent us scurrying back to our earliest documents, back through legend and history to the flesh-and-blood men and women through whom God gave us life. To clearly describe our founding charism it was necessary to go back to the founding person's historic life, necessary to learn the culture, the social and political situation in which the founder awoke to a personal call from God. It was necessary to see how the foundress responded to the signs of her times. We searched our primary sources with new eyes as we sought to find how the Spirit of God was manifested to our founding persons. What was the conversion experience from which there was no turning back? Was it in a cave like Subiaco or Manresa, or as with the foundress of my community, after coming home from a colorful, exciting ball in a luxurious salon in Budapest? How was the challenge met? How did the person read the message? What did Benedict or Francis or Dominic or Ignatius or John Bosco intend as they gathered disciples, as they structured a way of life which would allow their disciples to experience God as they had? What was the intent of Angela Merici, Louise de Marillac, Catherine McCauley, Elizabeth Seton, Frances Cabrini, or Margaret Slachta as they found like-minded women and began to pray with them, began to prepare them to attack some grave need felt by the People of God? We found life-giving answers to our questions. We discovered the why our founders did what they did, and the how was no longer so important. Most of their customs were the ordinary customs of their day. Take clothing for example. Many founding persons, both women and men, in many different centuries and different places wore the oridinary clothing of the poor or of the common people of their time. What they wore was the least Religious Charism / 527 of their concerns. Of course the "why" and the "hows" of the past brought us up sharply to the present and another set of questions. How does the present moment relate to what the founder was all about? In our great faithfulness to the foundress, to her customs and her way of doing things, did we lose sight of her vision? What would the founder do if called by God to begin the community now, today? Which of the foundress' gifts are being incarnated in the members of the community today? We have become very aware that the heart of the charism given our founding person must be enfleshed in our time or we have no deep ties with our roots. In our communities we are very conscious of our diversity, of the richness of personality of our members. Each of us comes with valued and often unique gifts from the Spirit which become the treasure of the whole community, yet we are also aware that we share, and in a radical way, the attraction, the charism of our founding person. Personal Charism of the Founder/Foundress Most communities discovered that the charism of the founding person was somewhat different from the charism of the community itself. Some gifts of the Spirit were for the foundress alone, some aspects of the founder's charism necessary only to the work of foundation, some strengths needed to give life to the new group in its formative years. In seeking out our own individual roots many of us became very conscious that the founder's specific time in history was so unlike our own, that the foundress brought the community to life often out of a specific need of her culture which does not exist in our technological age. Again it became evident that customs, manner of responding to need, which were a part of the initial environment in which the community was created, may have been a part of the personal charism of the foundress, but were not a part of the community's charism. If the charism is at the heart of the community's identity then the charism must transcend both the time and the culture in which the community was founded. Elements of Religious Charism The charism of a religious community is that gift or combination of gifts which God the Holy Spirit gave to the founding person so that the community might come into existence in the first place. The gifts reflect certain attributes of God, or in more contemporary language, aspects of the Gospel which the founding person lived out in her or his life. The gifts were given for the common good, to build the Body of Christ in the time in which they were first manifested. This gift, or special combination of girls, 5211 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 is not limited by time or culture and is found in, and is enfleshed by, the present-day followers of the founding person, enabling them to live his or her vision in our own time. The charism gives the community its basic identity, provides it with its own wholeness, gives it its own unique meaning within the total family of religious institutes. Because the charism is the gift of the Spirit, its expression is never static, it can lead a group in unpredict-able ways, and as the bishops were told in Mutuae Relationes, Mutual Relations Between Bishops and Religious, sometimes it can be quite trouble-some to deal with.8 Founders, foundresses and their religious communities have generally discovered that following one's charism usually involves a risk, always a challenge, and not infrequently, misunderstanding. As initially the primitive charism did not bring riches, honor, power, neither does its rediscovery. Charism and Daily Life If we want a wholeness about our lives, consciously or unconsciously we take our charism into consideration in all that we do. Formation personnel should be very clear about the community's charism, should test candidates precisely in the area of the charism. In the matter of the vows which the new members will take, we profess the evangelical counsels within the context of a particular religious family with its own particular charism. We understand our vows and live out our vocation as the com-munity understan

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

Issue 38.1 of the Review for Religious, 1979. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X) is edited in collaboration with faculty members of the Department of Theology of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. © 1979 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $2.00. Subscription U.S.A.: $8.00 a year; $15,00 for two years. Other countries: $9.00 a year, $17.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor January, 1979 Volume 38 Number 1 Correspondence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REVIEW Fort R~LICIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gailen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19131. "Out of print" issues and articles not re-issued as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 North Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Review for Religious Volume 38, 1979 Editorial Offices 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428 Saint Louis, Missouri 63108" Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Joseph F. Gallen, SJ. Miss Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Associate 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 © 1979 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Stewardship, Justice and the Religious Purpose in Education William J. Byron, S.J. Father Byron is President'of Scranton Univergity; Scranton, PA 18510. ere are three ideas°ar'ound which I would like toor, ganize this essay. The first two., stewardship and justice, will be relat~ ely brief. The tfiird notion concerns ou~" religious purpose in edu'cation. I holSe to develop it'in~ a way that will make a case for the educ~itional apostolate as'an +xercise of stewardship arid an instrument of justice. Stewardship It has been interesting to obser~ve in the 15as! several°years a renewed' interest in the notion of s~eWardshil5°in the Catholic 'community. We are discove'ring (or rediscoverifig) that"riOt ~0nly is stewardship a simple term, it is also an uncbmplicated~solutioh to significant portions "of some major s~ciai prolSlems. In practice, stewardship is an instrument of social justice. Reflo~ztiOn°ofi'ste~a~dghil~ might begin with the first verse of the Twdfity-fourth Ps~l~a: '"The earth is the Lord's iind"the fulhess thereof." All of material 6reation, as Well as all wealth flowing from it, b~longs to God. Wealth possessed ~r~produced by human persons is owne~ by' God. We own nothing abs0iut~ly; all We have we hold in trust. Thi~ is the ffiith foundation of th6 stewardship perspective. As composites c~f body and soul, we include our intellectual and spiritual resources as part, of the basic endowment which belongs ~to the Lord: Our use of both ~nateri~l and immaterial r~sources is intended to be an exercise of ste,.wafdshio.~ , .~ 4 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 All we have we hold in trust for other~for those who inhabit this planet with us.now, and for those who will live here in the future. Stewardship has inescapable societal obligations. Why do I say all we have is held in trust for others? Why not owned by God and held by me for my personal use? Why the social dimension? Possession of a particular share of created resources may be private, but that private share cannot be used without regard for others. There are two considerations here: one of equity, the other of responsibility. On the equity side I have to ask, "Is my share a fair one relative to the needs and claims of others?" Put another way, does my share represent an unfair gain taken at the expense of others?" The equity issue quite obvi-ously relates more immediately to the possession and use of material re-sources rather than to those that are spiritual and intellectual. It is not necessary for someone to .know less mathematics so that I might know more. My food supply, however, may be held at the expense of someone less fortunate than I. Broadening the equity consideration from the individhal person to a larger group (as, for instance, one's race or nation) one can ask the equity question this way: does my group's share represent an unfair gain taken at the expense of other groups-? The responsibility consideration looks to the future. Are resources being used now in a way that will provide for future generations a secure basis for their existence? Again, this is easier to see with respect to material re-sources. If we depli~e our oil supplies, will they have an alternative source of-energy? If we pollute our lakes and streams, will they have ffater to drink? If we fail to sustain our soil, will they have bread to sustain their lives? What we refer to as "our" resources are also theirs, for they, like us, are sons and daughters of the sole owner, the Lord, who has entrusted his creation to our care and for our use. We are stewards. We own nothing absolutely. All we have we hold in trust. As inhabitants of this earth at this time, we religious educators, like our feilow~ on this planet, have stewardship responsibilities. As members of a religious community, moreover, we possess a tradition, a history, a style, some physical assets and an impressive array of spiritual and intellectual resources. We own none of these absolutely; all of these we hold in trust. We are stewards of this collective religious-community endowment. We face, therefore, considerations of equity and responsibility as we manage our collective endowment. The equity donsideration relates directly to justice and will be discussed in the next part of this article when we have to ask ourselves whether our share of these resources represents an unfair gain taken ai the expense of others. The responsibility consideration looks, as I suggested earlier, to the future. Are we using our resources, particularly our intellec.tual and spir-itual resources, in a way that is likely to enrich the lives of future inhabitants Stewardship, Justice and Purpose in Education of this planet?°The steward is in charge ofla household he does not.own. Is that ho, usehold being maintained by us in a state of apostolic readiness for effective service now and in the future? The story in ,Luke 16:1-8 of the "unjust steward" or "dishonest manager" serqi~s as a reminder that we can miSlase or misapply our heri-tage; we can indeed violate the trust that is ours. Failure to meet our responsibilities as stewards would mean failure to preserve a heritage that the Lord, the dominus, the owner of the householdmay well intend to have available for the service of future generations. To take my own Jesuit household as an example, I would include in my list of the central elements of the heritage that is now ours tb use and to preserve for the future these four: (1) The Spiritual Exercises, (2) development of the intellect, (3) service to the Holy See, and (4) apostolic flexibility. These four elements suggest that the Society of Jesus intends to foster in itself an embodiment of(1) holiness, (2)learning, (3) service to the Church, and (4)availability for necessary service ~an. ywhere in the world. ,~ Further specification of these elements rais'es four disturbing questions and one simple observation. The questions are these: 1. Does the prefer-ence .for poverty which characterizes The Spiritual Exercises also charac-terize the holiness of the Society today? 2. Does the emphasis on learning, present at the origins of the Society, remain an active emphasis in thisstage of the Society's growth and in all stages of the individual Jesuit's growth? 3. Does service to the Church of Christ and to the Vicar of Christ charac-terize our labors now as in the days of our origins? 4. Are we individually and collectively free to move our heritage and our resources in the direction of the greatest need, wherever that may be? The one observation I ~ould want to make in connection with the stewardship of the Jesuit heritage is this: formal education through the operation of schools, although part of the Jesuit tradition, is neither essen-tial to the heritage nor identifiable as an element that characterizes, the origins of the Society of Jesus. Similar reflection~, questions and observations can be directed toward the heritage and "household management" of any other religious commu-nity. " .~ o,~ 7 Justice Justice is symbolized by trays in balance on a scale. We speak of the "scale~ of justice." ~Vhen one tray yields weight to the other and imbalance occurs, the weights have to be adjusted to restore the balance. Imbalance symbolizes injustice; compen.sation makes adjustment (ad-just-ment), '~the achievement of justice, possible. Three years ago it was my privilege to address the New Orleans (Jesu'it) Province Assembly on th~ justice dimension of our apostolates~ In that paper I asked, "is ~our corporate apostolic service compensatory; are we 6 /ReviewforReligious; Volum~e 38, 197911. throwing our weight ~onto .the side of the oppressed?" I went on to say Symbolidally, justice is ~+l~resented by trays in balance on a scale.- The unbaladce of social injustice, where one group's advantage (th 'down tray) is taken at the expense .of another group (the up tray) calls for compensatory action.As a social group, we Jesuits should sh~ft our weight over to the weak stde. We see gaps between r, ch and poor, powerful and powerless, advantaged and disadvantaged. In exercising our min- " istry of justice, by whatever apostolic instruments, we sl~duld, it seems to me. trans- "' late the ideal of the Third Mode of humility into practice by choosing to be with Christ and as Christ---on the short side of all those gaps. Where do we throw our weight? Where do we throw our wealth, our income, our apostolic energy? One of the delegat6s to that assembly was the talented young lawyer-activist Alfred C. Kammer, S.J. In the question peribd following my talk, he expressed his personal view that the Society, as a group, occupier solidly and squarely the down tray in most" of the gap-comparisons that come to mind. In his recent contribution to Studies in the' Spirituality of Jesuitst Fr. Kammer~returns to my question, "Where d6 we throw our weight? Where do we throw our wealth, our income; our apostolic ener-gy?" and addresses it in these words: Th~ activist answers Father Byi'on's question by saying that the Society largely casts ' its weight with the "haves.'"with those who at best "don't care" and at worst are'the oppressors. He sees the institutional and personal weight of the Society lined up with the "haves" in such popular dichotomies as .these: white vs. black white vs. brown male vs. female U.S. vs. Third;World powerful vs. , powerless rich vs. poor . suburban vs. urban well-educated vs. poorly educated And, Fr. Kammer continues, "the,activist concludes that no matter how much Jesuits 'tinker' with their present .institutional commitments to facilitate the entry of some minority composed of the poor or disadvan, taged, th~e,.Society's weight is stii! .cgs.t overwhelmingly on the side of the well-off" (p~p. 10-11). I think Fred Kammer locates us Jesuits correctly. Weigh'ted do~v~ with the advantages of education, nutrition, health care, secure housing and all the other physical things necessary for our work, as well as those things less necessary but useful and convenient, we are on the down. tray, on the side of the well-off. Now_this raises many quegtions. What is the relatedness or relati0nship-between us and those who are less well off, those on the up tray, the disadvantaged. Are we Wher~we are because they are where they are? Has our gain been taken at their expense? With whom do we side when the issue ~" 'Burn-out' Contemporary Dilemma for the Jesuit Social Activist." Vol. X. No. 1, January 1978. Stewardship~ Justice and Purpos~e in Education is ,raised of redressing the balance? Without attempting to answer these difficult questions, I raise another that resurrects the,notion of stewardship. What are we do~ing ._with what we have? Do we manage it responsibly, share its, apply it,to the i,mprovement of life for others now and in the future? The Religious, CommUnity's Purpose in Education Many if,not most of us religious in America are stewarding our resources in an institutional educational environment. Will our stewardship-have anything .significant to contribute to .the promotion of justice? It may well be true that ~tinkering with our institutional arrangements will not shift our weight completely and existentially to the side of the poor and powerless. One need not conclude, however, that we must abandon our advantages. Nor does it follow that the down tray is necessarily the wrong place for' many religious to be. If we de=institutionalized our works, if wee gave away every physical asset we igossess ~nd went to live with the poor, poverty wo(dd be fieither relieved nor ~r~duced. We ar~ ~lo~t,lbcked 'into an adversary rel~ti6h~hip on the side ofth( rich againstth6 po6÷, 0n the side of whites against the blacks, on the side of a@ dominantgroup agaii~st any oppressed minoi'ity. We are in a position to'convert the "versus" linkages into hyphens find to forge connecting links of ~:econciliation between rich and poor, black and white, and other- di~,ided ~roups. A~dmittedly, many if not :most of us, a?e on the down tray. Admittedly, all occupants of the down tray will have to give somethingup if some semblance of balance is to b~.realized, and'most are unwilling to give up anything. And admittedly, the effort tO~'fi'chieve a balance between the trays is uphill and long range. But that is ttie.hatu're of the work we are called to do. Are we'free enough to do l~h~at i,v~b{k well? Central to an~ educational ~ork isthe develop~ment 0f"tiun~a~] potential. Human potential stretches into eternity;~the positive~side toward union with the Creatoi"bf that human p0t.e0[i-hl; the negative side points to the possibil: ity of eterh~i! alienation. , Formai education's inte{ests are coextensive with the entire range of positi~,e p~ssibiliti~s for human development. Recognition of this fact came early in Jesuit historY,. For more th~n four centuries now, we have been choosing formal education as an extr~brdinarily v~luable instrument for our work in the development of hum~.n potential. Many other religious in-sii'tutes have made'the same decision. ,:~ ,,~ ¯ At.this moment in our history, we Jesuits of the United States are faced with a.decline in numbers,'a fairly widespread loss.of nerve, some uneasi-ness ,about the appropriateness of our life-style and our ability, to live harmoniously and work effectively in companionship, and we are also faced with nagging doubts about.the apostolic value of what we are doing in,our schools. Our experience is.not uriique. In addition, we Jesuits have~lSeen challenged to redefifi~ ourselves~.and our mission.in terms of the service of 8 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 faith and the promotion of justice: Can this redefinition and concommitant rededication happen without abandonment:of our commitment.to formal educatiori? I think it can. Our Jesuit purpose in education is a logical extension of our stewardship and justice responsibilities.~And the same is true for many other religious. Formal education's interests are coextensive with the entire range of positive possibilities for human development. That is why religious communities choose formal education for their members, and choose to offer formal education to others. Higher education touches that ra.nge" of positive possibilities in a priv-ileged way. Wisdom is areal possibility at the stage of human development associated with higher education. At this level it is the privilege of educa-tors to group themselves into communities of inquiry which may become or beget wisdom communities,. The religious purpose in higher education is to move the minds and hearts of developing persons. The direction of this movement is Godward. The norm is truth. The outcome, it is to be hoped, is wisdom. And wisdom, we would all agree, is a gift from God. As the religious is a faith-committed person, so religious education is intended to be faith-commjttedactivity. If, as faith directs, everything depends on God, then wisdom would suggest that every'thing must be entrusted to God. If such wisdom is present with us at the beginning of religiously sponsored education, it may well be expected to reside with our students at the end of the edpcati0nal experi-ence. Any religious experience involves a search for God's will. This search, in the vocabulary of spirituality, goes b.y the name of discernment. And discernment, as we all know, is a wisdom characteristic. As any Jesuit knows, the Igna.tian way of discernment cannot be learned, from books. It can only be exp,grienced under the direction of a sensitive gpide. Hence, a special task, a privileged opportunity for Jesuits in higher education is to offer the e,xperience' of The Spiritual Exercises to those in .the learning community who want to grow spiritually. In the context o'f the Exercises, as in the classroom, learning should be directed by a motivator-organizer and assimilated by an active participant in the process. As a classroom educator or spiritual guide, the Jesuit, as an instrument of God's grace, is expected to assist the Spirit in moving the minds and hearts of those who want to grow. -' In the domain of higher education, there are many with the potential for wisdom. That is why Jesuits gather there to work. Their task is not only to teach and search for truth in all its forms, but also to share their founder's special grace with those who want to grow the Ignatian way. The Ignatian way toward wisdom is part of the heritage, the endowment over which every Jesuit exercises a stew~irdship responsibility. His antecedent respon-sibility; of course, is to have internalized the Ignatian way. His educational methods :will; not surprisingly, reflect it. Normally, his desire will be to live and work in companionship with others who are familiar with the Ignatian Stewardship, Justice and Purpose in Education way. And the Jesuit's hope, wherever he works, will be to share this way Or see it shared with others. That is responsible stewardship. It is also part of the Jesuit purpose in education. Parallel purposes, hopes and apostolic approaches characterize the work of other religious who are educators. There is much of a practical nature that (ould be said of education-for-justice efforts now underway in Catholic educational institutions. A lot of experience is accumulating. Rather than listing courses, projects and field experiences of demonstrated value, I would prefer to mention only one program that is designed to assist all educators in addressing the world hunger issue. Atthe 1974 World Food Conference in Rome, Secretary of State Henry Kissinger pledged the cooperation of the United States to work with other nations so that "within a decade no child will go to bed hungry" anywhere in the world. In hopes of facilitating contributions from educational institu-tions toward this goal, Bread for the World Educational Fund launched in 1976 a Decade of Commitment on World Hunger (DCWH). The program is designed for institutions of higher education. It provides conference oppor-tunities for administrators, faculty, campus ministers, career guidance counselors and students to share ways of placing and keeping hunger on the academic agenda. Emphasis is placed on four areas within which colleges ~:an deal with the hunger issue: curriculum, research, campus ministry and career choices made by students ("In the face of the world hunger problem, what are.you going to do with your life?").?~ Som~ of.the best work in justice-education is happening in secondary schools. Again I refrain from listing the specifics. I would, however, like to say a word about the person of the secondary educator. To put it more pr.ecisely, I would like to repeat a great theologian's reflections on the value of the person and importance of the work of the religious who is a high school_teacher. The Jesuit secondary educator is the man John Courtney Murray, de-scribed with admiration and affection as "The Schoolmaster." He spoke of the schoolmaster as the grammarian, the person who is knowledgeable in the elements of his subject, whose knowledge is, in this sense, elementary but certainly not superficial. The schoolmaster is devoted to the communi-cation of these elements as a lifetime work. Being a schoolmaster, said Fr. Murray to a Jesuit audience at Woodstock in 1961, is '~being on the growing edge of things, beca.use the growing edge is youth." "We are supposed to be Jesuit ministers of growth," he added, "'ad profectum animarum." "We are supposed to be men of tomorrow. One of "~The Educational Fund, which can also provide worship aids and high school course-materials on hunger, is a separate corporation closely related to the Christian citi~.ens lobby known simply as Bread for the World (207 East 16th Street, New York City 10003). Membership in Bread for the World (annual dues $10) will keep one informed, by means of a monthly newsletter and background papers, about the hunger issue. "10 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 our earliest undertakings was to become schoolmasters, schoolmen. Doc-trina exacta et solida is first the tradition of the Church; it is also the tradition of reason. We are committed to an intellectual apostolate--a min-istry of and io intelligence." The schoolmaster imparts the skills and guides the maturation process. The more fully the religious schoolmaster or schoolmistress has assimilated the basic elements of his or her religious, heritage, the more valuable is he or she as a role model in the 'midst of the young. The classroom teacher's task is largely one of method and motivation; the object is to move both minds and hearts. Inevitably, the response the teacher stimulates will be a response to himself or herself. This is a privileged relationship. If the sct~oolmaster (or the scholar, for that matter) is a person of justice, a sense of justice will be communicated to the students. If the institution-alized set of arrangements known as a school embodies in its procedures relationships of justice, then those who teach and learn there will, in vary-ing degrees, embody in themselves the principles of justice. The religious schoolmaster has, of course, a life outside the classroom. There are pastoral opportunities and citizenship responsibilities. The apostolic base, the school, can and should.be a place from which the religious reaches out to the Christian and civic communities for the service of faith and promotion.of justice. That outreach will, it might be expected, involve both witness and advocacy roles in 'the cause of justice as an expression of faith. Education for justice is a challenge we religious are capable of meeting. We should have no doubt about that. Whether we will. meet it or not is another matter. But we can, if we choose. The educational outcomes, the results of our efforts to educate for justice, depend on powers beyond our own. There is no reason to believe that the Lord will not raise up men and women of justice in our midst and in our times. I recognize that there is no bne method known now to be the most effective in educating for justice. The argument over method goes back to the Aristotelian notion that the one who does justice will come to under-stand justice; and back as well to Plato's view that the one who first understands justice will then act justly. In this important matter of educat-ing for justice, we Catholic educators have a laboratory system in our American schools and colleges. We can try different methods in different situations and compare results. The findings of our experiments in educa-tion for justice can be shared with other educators in other systems. We can make a difference here. As we do it our way, in the intellectual-educational mode, unjust, ex-pioitative, discriminatory and oppressive situations will remain in our world. But in direct proportion to our success in educating fqr justice, future world situations will have a reduced share of injustice. It is a Chris-tian characteristic not to give up on the future. Stewardship, Justice and Purpose in Education / 11 Father BenWren, a New Orleans Province Jesuit whose scholarly inter-ests include Eastern mysticism, tells me that there is a Chinese saying to0the effect that one who is concerned with planning for a year should plant rice; the person interested in planning for a decade should plant trees. But one who wants to plan for a century will surely want to educate people. There.is a religious purpose in education. That purpose is consistent, for example, with our contemporary Jesuit focus on the service of faith and the specification of that service in the promotion ofjustice. The activist impulse suggested by the word promotion is quite congenial with our purpose and style of education. Through education; we can touch both trays on the scalEs of justice. When we work with the advantaged, we should have the disadvantaged in mind. We can challenge ourselves and all others who occupy the down tray to dedicate ourselves in conscience to making life livable for the poorest of the poor. When we work directly with the e~onom-ically disadvantaged, we can assist them in developing the competencies that can help them move toward a better life. The earliest Jesuit schools were free. But never, so far as I can deter-mine, were Jesuit schools exclusively for the poor or exclusively for the rich. Today, we are with the rich,much more than we are with the poor in our educational work. Who can say that we cannot somehow, somewhere in the decades ahead bring our educational energies into more direct contact with the poor? Who can say that we will not, in the meantime, find new and effective ways of bringing the "haves" with wtiom we work to an accept~ ance of their obligations injustice toward the "have nots"? And who woul~l want to take responsibility for disengaging ourselves from the apostolate that makes either option possible? That last question, in my view, highlights the importance of personal and community life-style for those who work in the educational apostolate. We religious in America are perfectly capable of going soft. We can indeed insulate and isolate ourselves from the condition of the disadvantaged masses. We are capable of-violating our stewardship. If that should happen, justice will not be served and the religious purpose in education will have lost its salt. In The American Mind (Yale, 1950), Henry Steele Commager remarks that for Willa Cather, the past was significant for its moral qualities. Her long literary life was, according to Commager, an elaborate remembrance of things past--the past of the pioneers who had built the West, of the immigrants who had carried with them into the New World their sense of beauty and art, of those earlier spiritual pathfinders, the Franciscans and Jesuits, who had served their fellowmen and their God so selflessly. And all her novels and stories., were animated by a single great theme as they w.ere graced by a single felicitous style, the theme was that of the supremacy of moral and spiritual over material values, the ever recurrent but inexhaustible theme of gaining the whole world and losing one's soul (p. 150). Dealing, as she did, with the frontier as the setting for many of her 12 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 stories, Miss Cather apparently found inspiration in the frontier idea and saw it as a setting for clarification, and dramatization of moral issues. Hence, as Commager points out, the passing of the pioneer generation meant, to Miss Cather, the passing of all the old virtues, "and she was incapable of believing that there could be different virtues in a civilization whose standards were those of the countinghouse, whose habits were predatory, and whose rewards were social and ostentatious rather than spiritual and private" (p. 154). Commager cites a tribute to Nebraska writ-ten by Willa Cather in the early 1920's: We must face the fact that the splendid story of the pioneers is finished and that no new story worthy to take its place has yet begun . The generation now in the driver's seat hates to make anything, wants to live and die in an automobile, scudding past those acres where the old man used to follow the corn rows up and down. They want to buy everything ready-made: clothes, food., education, music, pleasure; Will the third generation--the full-blooded joyous ones just coming over the hill--be fooled? Will it believe that to live easily is to live happily.'? (p. 154). Two generations have passed since those words were written. Religious at work in Nebraska and elsewhere in America are prepared to admit that many of us in many different driver's seats have been fooled. Regrettably, some of us, by witness and word, have foolishly encouraged others to believe that to live easily is to live happily. The "new story" thatoWilla Cather was looking for in Nebraska,can be written anywhere in America by contemporary religious educators, if they choose to. I suspect that "the full-blooded joyous ones just coming over the hill" are not now being fooled; they recognize that if we want to live happily, we will want to do what we can to make life livable for the poorest of the poor. Schools alone cannot do it and they certainly cannot do it right away. But without the schools, it will not be done at all:. Discipleship and Loneliness: A Marcan Meditation Michael T. Winstanley, S.D.B. Father Winstanley lectures in New Testament Studies at Ushaw College, the Senior Seminary for the Northern Dioceses of Eng_l, and. He lives in the Salesian community attached to Ushaw College; Durham DH7 9RH; England. His last article, "'Jesus, Poverty and the Kingdom," appeared in the July, 1977 issue. Your vow to remain unmarried for the sake of God's kingdom will draw you into the loneliness of the cross of Jesus and reveal the basic loneliness of every man.1 In his,book The Calvary Christ Gerald O'Collins writes: "Too often a cloud of stale words covers Calvary. Theologians and exegetes can use a language remote from anything we feel. Conventional-religious art asks for our conventional reaction. Tendencies .towards evasion in all of us allow this art to continue and the dull language to grind on. We accept the old fo.rmulas, the familiar crucifixes and the ponderous pronouncements of scholars with a mixture of loyalty and mystification. We need to find and fashi6n ways of reflecting on the crucifixion which can let it speak to us again with. new power.'' How far this statement mirrors our feelings and experience, each indi-viduai must judge. I should like to suggest that one way of reflecting on the crucifixion which can indeed let it speak to us again with new power is to tRulefor a New Brother (London; Darton, Longman & Todd, 1973), p. 16. 2G. O'Collins, The Calvary Christ (London, SCM, 1977), p. ix. 13 14 / Review for Religious, Volume 38,~ 1979/1 take one evangelist's presentation of the passion of Jesus, to meditate on it, and to allow its impact to challenge our lives. For each of the evangelists narrates the story in his own way, with his own particular emphases, highlighting different aspects of the drama, f~cusing different facets of the person of Jesus,.communicating his own theological vision and understand-ing of the significance of the event. Unfortunately, the originality of each approach is often blurred, and the sharpness blunted by the comfortably generalized picture which most of us have. In this article I shall concentrate on one of the motifs which dominates the passion according to Mark, namely the loneliness of Jesus.3 It is this which constitutes his greatest suffering, far more than any physical pain. In fact, Mark, as indeed the other three evangelists, evinces little interest in the physical torments of the Master, laying little stress upon them. Mark's Gospel has been called a passion narrative with a long introduction. This reminds us to view the passion within the framework of the whole Gospel; consequently, in our consideration of some of the elements of the narrative, it will be necessary to refer back to earlier sections of the Gospel. The earliest passion narratives probably began with the arrest scene. "Suddenly, while he was still speaking, Judas, one of the twelve, appeared, and with him was a crowd armed with swords and ~cudgels; sent by the chief priests, lawyers and elders." The man responsi.ble .for the success of the arrest is not one of those whose constant opposition had dogged Jesus' tracks, but "one of the twelve," one of his friends. Our minds flash back to an earlier scene in which Jesus "then went up into the hill country and called the men he wanted: and they went and joined him. He appointed twelve to be with him, to be sent out to proclaim the gospel, with a commis-sion to drive out devils. So he appointed the twelve .-." (3,13-16). Discipleship is primarily a personal call to the intimacy of friendship, a being "singled out" in order to "be with." It is one of these chosen ones who had shared his fellowship who is the traitor; and the sign of his treach, ery is the normal sign of respect and friendship: "When he reached the spot, he stepped forward at once and said to Jesus, 'Rabbi,' and kissed him. Then they seized him and held him fast." The verb Mark uses here means a particularly ~iffectionate kiss, a firm embrace. After a futile act of token resist~ince which served only to emphasize Jesus' defenselessness, "they deserted him and fled, every one of them," including the~youthful follower who narrowly evaded capture. , Mark recounts this Scene with a laconic matter-of-factness that is chill-ingly disconcerting. Earlier that evening, as they walked together from the supper room to the garden, Jesus had predicted their flight: "You will all fall from .your faith; for it stands written: 'I will strike the shepherd down and the sheep will be scattered.'" And Peter, not untypically, had insisted that he would die even, rather than disown Jesus. "And they all said the same" 3cf. Hendrickx, The Passian Narratives (Manila, East Asian Pastoral Institute, 1977). Discipleship and Loneliness: A Marcan Meditation / 15 (14, 26-31). Yet they were not Slow to seek their own safety and leave Jesus to face his fate alone. This flight and abandonment, the memory of which haunted the early Christians, was in fact the culmination of that failure on the part of the disciples both to understand and to accept the messiahship of Jesus which Mark traces throughout this Gospel, especially after Caesarea Philippi in Chapter Eight. On that occasion, in answer to Jesus' questioning concerning people's opinions about him~ and his further probing as to the views of the disciples, Peter, as their spokesman, professed Jesus' messiahship. Jesus responded by speaking openly about his passion for the first time, which provoked a bewildered attempt to dissuade him. At this time Jesus rebuked Peter in ~strong terms for his thinking as men think rather than as God thinks, and proceeded to outline the nature of discipleship: "~nyone who wishes to be a follower of mine must leave self behind, he must take up his cross and come with me" (8,34). A little later in the narrative, as they journeyed through Galilee, Jesus again spoke of his passion, "but they did not understand what he said and were afraid to ask" (9,32). And on their way they argued about seniority and importance and greatness. Jesus predicted his passion for the third, time on the road going up to Jerusalem in terms which were unmistakably clear. The failure of the disciples to understand is illustrated by the next incident, in which the two sons of Zebedee made a bid for the top jobs in the Kingdom. The rest were naturally indignant about this, a row broke, out, and Jesus, in patient frustra-tion, attempted to open their minds to the nature of his messiahship and of his kingdom, and to the real meaning of discipleship in terms of service (10,44-45). It is this inability or unwillingness to grasp and to accept what messiah-ship meant for Jesus when this proved to be different from what the twelve were expecting and hopiag for; this inability or unwillingness to embrace in vision and in lifestyle the kind of discipleship such a messiah demanded, which expressed itself so decisively in their garden choice not to be "with him," to care for their own safety (8,35), to forsake him and flee. The next scene in the passion drama, comprises Jesus' trial before the Sanhedrin and the denials of Peter; the~e two incidents are closely inter-locked in Mark's account. '~Then they led Jesus away to the High Priest's. house, where the chief priests, elders and doctors of the law were all assembling." Already Mark has clearly designated the Jewish leaders as the ones responsible for Jesus' arrest (14,43), and he indicates each section that made up the San.hedrin, the supreme religious and legislative body. For Mark, these are his real enemies. From the early stages of the public ¯ ministry they have consistently opposed him. In Chapter Two, when the paralytic is brought to Jesus, the doctors of the law consider his talk about 16 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 forgiving sins quite blasphemous, and Jesus vainly attempts to open their eyes as he cures the poor man. A little while la.ter, after the call of Levi, when Jesus is at table with tax-gatherers and sinners, the Pharisees com-plain~ to his disciples about the types he"mixes with; Jesus, on hearing this, retorts, not without a touch of irony: "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick; I did not come to invite virtuous people, but sinners" (2,17). Mark now records the Pharisees' criticism of the disciples for plucking corn on the Sabbath, a complaint which stung Jesus to challenge their basic tenets in enunciating the principle that people mattered more than sabbath regulations. This incident is followed by an episode which underlines the mounting hostility, the failure of Jesus to win acceptance of the religious ~lite. It is a sabbath and Jesus goes to the synagogue, where there is a man with a withered arm. "And they were watching to see whether Jesus would cure him on the sabbath, so that they could bring a charge against him." Aware of their malicious intentions, Jesus tries to draw them, to make them aware of the perversion of religion, the distortion of the image of God, that adherence to legalistic casuistry entailed. He encountered an obstinate and ominous silence, saddening and frustrating. "But the Pharisees, on leaving the synagogue, began plotting against him with the partisans of Herod to see how they could make away with hirh." Thereafter Jesus is obliged to live and to work under the shadow of this threat. The rift widens as the ministry continues, and eventually, as the conflict approaches its climax, Jesus takes the game into their own court, openly challenging them by expelling the money-lenders and merchants from the temple .precincts. On hearing of this, the chief priests and doctors of the Law "sought some means of making away with him, for they were afraid of him, because the whole crowd was spellbound by his teaching" (11,18). Not long afterwards Jesus spoke that indictment-parable of the wicked husbandmen. The inevitable result was that -they began to look for a way to arrest him, for they saw that the parable was aimed at them; but they were afraid of the people, so they left him alone and went away" (12,12). As that fateful final week progresses we hear of the attempts by the Phari-sees and Herod's party to entrap him in regard to the Caesar tribute (12,13), and by the Sadducees in regard to the resurrection (12,18-27); and we hear Jesus word-lash the doctors of the Law (12,38-40). And so, finally, as the Passover feast approaches, "the chief priests and doctors of the Law were trying to devise some cunning plan to seize him and put him to death" (14,1). Now these men have Jesus in their power at last. From the commence-ment of the so-called trial or enquiry, their intentions are firm and limpid; with cynical singlemindedness "they sought testimony against Jesus to put .him to death" (14,.56). Mark paints the scene in a few, bold, vivid strokes: the balking incompetence of the false witnesses; the silent, dignified, isolated figure of Jesus; his foes bent unanimously on his destruction. Discipleship and Loneliness: A Marcan Meditation Swiftly the evangelist brings the matter to a head, as the high priest asks Jesus whether he is in fact the Christ. At Jesus' open affirmation, the high priest, with an elaborate dlsplay of passionate horror, accuses him of blas-phemy; and the gathering ends as planned: "they all condemned him as deserving death' '--again Mark emphasizes the unanimity of the opposition, and the utter aloneness of Jesus. Whilst, in an atmosphe.re of frenzied hate and delighted success, Jesus is beaten and mockbd and humiliated, Mark shifts our attention to the courtyard where Peter stands by the fire warming himself in the chill night air. We are familiar with the painful description of Peter's triple denial of the Master. Mark skiifully orders them in a crescendo pattern so that the third denial is the most intense, accompanied by curses and a solemn oath. Some scholars suggest that Peter, still under fire in spite of his first two denials, resorts to the strongest possible manner of dissociating himself from Jesus by actually cursing him; this is the force to be given to that staggering disavowal: "I do not know this man you speak of"--an even more emphatic restatement of his earlier rejection of Jesus' messianic way at Caesarea Philippi. Peter, singled out to be with him, decisively opts in public not to be with him. Mark heightens the effect of this by juxtaposing the incident with the trial .scene: Jesus, true to himself and his mission, affirms what he cannot deny, his messiahship; and he is rejected by the religious leaders of his own people and by his closest follower. Alone and in chains, he is led away and handed over to pagan power (15,1). The rejection and isolation of Jesus is further accentuated in the subse-quent scene when the ordinary people shout for his death. The fickleness of crowds, the fragility of public opinion, is a commonly recognized phe-nomenon. From the statements of the Pharisees cited earlier, it would seem that Jesus continued to enjoy a considerable amount of popularity with the masses. Yet their acclaim was always suspect. Quite early in the Gospel, Mark describes the wave of enthusiasm and excitement sparked by Jesus' miracles and teaching; the people flocked to him with their sick, and hung on his words. But their response went little deeper. For the most part, they misunderstood the nature of his kingdom, the,genre of his peculiar messia-nism. They were not won to faith; they were prone to disappointment and disillusionment, with the resentful antagonism that this engenders. Now, when Pilate in a desperate effort to release him, offered the mob the option of choosing "Jesus Barabbas," as he was probably called, a freedom fighter convicted of murder, or Jesus of Nazareth, the crowd, incited by the chief priests, clamored for the insurrectionist, and screamed for Jesus to be committed to the hideous torture-death of crucifixion. We should not allow our familiarity with the story to dull our sensitivity to the poignant pain of that scene, the dreadful irony as the nation whose whole history pointed to this moment, the nation chosen out of all peoples on the face of the earth to be God's own people (Dt 7,6ff.), disowned their 11~ / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 Emmanuel. Jesus stands there in the open, alone, the impassioned cries of the people that was his people ringing in his ears, as they chant his rejection. His bitter desolation is intensified by a sense of injustice. Even Pilate was convinced of his innocence: "Why, what harm has he done?" Thus he is abandoned tothe Roman soldiery. In his economic description of the crucifixion and death of Jesus, Mark emphasizes the solitude of Jesus by mentioning details which, because of our acquaintance with the versions of Luke and John, we are apt to over-look. After the passers-by had hurled abuse at him and mocked him in his helpless anguish, and the lawyers had jested and gibed, "even those who were crucified with him taunted him" (15,32). At the end the robbers, too, renounce his companionship; Jesus does not belong even with his fellow-sufferers. Similarly, it is only after the death of Jesus that mention is made of the women who had followed him from Galilee, and who "were watching from a distance" (15,40). At the foot of the cross there is no mother, no beloved disciple; Jesus died utterly alone. The searing anguish of his pain and loneliness arid failure is focused and captured in the loud cry from the cross: "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" But he died "without a word or a wink from God to reassure him that, whatever the gawking crowd might think, he knew that Jesus was not only innocent, but valid where it mattered.''4 Jesus' sense of total rejection by men is compounded and intensified by his feeling abandoned by the Father,.by his experience of estrangement and alienation that be-longs to our sinfulness. The psalm that Jesus is citing is a psalm of uncon-ditional trust in God's love and ultimate vindication. The last words of Jesus are a radical expresSion of his loneliness, and a "radical expression of a devotion to God which endures in every adverse experience--a devotion which continues to claim God as 'my' God and will not let him go although he can be experienced only as the absent One who has'forsaken the peti-tioner.''~ It is this surrender in love and trust that is our window into the mystery of his personality, for it is the human expression of what.we have come to call divine sonship; it is this surrender in the brokenness of death which, like the buried grain, is the source of our life.6 It is, I believe, true that Mark's way of presenting the passion of Jesus can allow it to "speak to us again with new power," speak to us with hope and with challenge in the center of our experience. All of us know at first hand the meaning of loneliness. I still vividly remember my feelings of desolate helplessness on the occasion of my first day at school as mother walked out of the playground beyond the iron fence. Or years later, when, having spent three years in enclosed quasi-monastic surroundings, I went to sit my finals in London, sporting a large 4L. E. Keck, A Future for the Historical Jesus (London, SCM, 1972), p. 229. ~E. Schweizer, The Good News according to Mark (London, SPCK, 1971), p. 353. ncf. my article "Trust--the Life-Attitude of Jesus" in Doctrine and Life, Nov. "76, pp. 803 ft. Discipleship and Loneliness: A Marcan Meditation Roman collar at twenty-one; everything and everyone seemed to be telling me that I did not belong~°I recall also the numbing sense'of lostness that came over me as' the train hissed noisily to a halt in Wigan station the evening 'my father died. Loneliness has many forms: the jarring sadness of bereavement, the corrosive listlessness of loss and separation, the anguished alienation and shame.of guilt and sin, thedisappointment of failure, the isolation of intense physigal suffering or imprisonment; the d(structive discouragement and paralysis of non-acceptance and rejection, the pain of misunderstanding and estrangement, the gnawing emptiness of unfulfilled longing for intimacy and genuine cbmpanionship, the absence of~God. Loneliness is thic.kly woven into the fabric of our lives, it.is a facet of our human poverty, our poverty of being. But Mark assures us that it is an aspect of being human that Jesus-fully shared throughout his ministry and especially in hi~ final hours. Most of us are anxious to avoid pain, physical pain; our medical and pharmaceutical experts have mercifully developed many varieties of anal-gesic. Most of us, likewise, sedulously attempt to avoid the pain of loneli-ness; and our society has developed a wide range of would-be anaesthetics--from discos to little dog~--to soften the abrasive harshness of our experience. I, for one, am very grateful for the refuge and comfort afforded by the telephone! And yet I wonder whether Mark is challenging us as disciples of Jesus to Cope with our loneliness m. ore creatively. Whilst recognizing with thanks the extent to which he made the experience of loneliness his own, perhaps we are reluctant to recognize that he did what most of us, most of the time, seek to .shun. In spite of gripping fear and instinctive repugnance, he did not run away from it; and his steadfastness transformed it into a life-giving element of redemption. Perhaps it is here that Mark is speaking to us again with new power; perhaps the challenge for disciples of Jesus consists in transforming the pain of loneliness into a source of personal growth and of life for others. It is very important that instead of taking one of the numerous escape roads open to us, we learn to come to terms with our loneliness and listen to our own feelings and struggles, our aspirations and questions, and live themacceptingly. It is here in the unique my.stery'of our personal selfhood, in the depths of our being, that we must have the courage to allow God to find us. It is here that his call is to be heard: "Do not be afraid, for I am with you . " So often God seems absent for the simple reason that we are fearfully evading his loving presence. Loneliness is paradoxically a poten-tial source of enrichment, for it can teach us the meaning of poverty of spirit, which opens us to the gift of God's kingly rule through the Spirit poured into our hearts, that surrender in loving and trusting obedience which is the hallmark of the Master.7 rI'his is developed by Henri J. M. Nouwen, Reaching Out (London, Collins, 1976), pp. 25-101. 90 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 In learning to come to terms with our loneliness, we may learn like Jesus, to love more genuinely, more compassionately. Our going out to others will be legs oriented to answering our own needs for companionship and fulfillment, and will become an expression of authentic service which can liberate and heal and enliven. At Caesarea Philippi, Jesus asked Peter and the other eleven: ~' And you, who do you say I am?" He reiterates this question to each Christian daily. Peter was able to acknowledge J~esus as Messiah, but his response was inadequate, it did not involve a willingness to follow in his way; he jibbed at the implications of discipleship. Loneliness, failure, misunderstanding, rejection are always painful, very painful, and are a constant in our human experience; a constant, however, shot through with hope because of the paschal mystery of Christ. Our answer as disciples to the challenging ques-tion of Jesus must be expressed in our willingness to take up this cross and go "with him." A Lamb Looks Through the Fence (Where the grass appears to be greener) The grass is greener on the other side: At least, it seems that way. Shepherd, give me a heart content To praise, to server to stay. This is the pasture of Your choice, And lessons here await: Calm the longings of my heart And bid the storms abate. For fences also keep us safe, Hedged in with loving care, Provided for and protected from The lion and the bear. Teach me to trust--this humble prayer Removes the restless yen: Some day we'll see from a higher view How green our side has been. Vi~la Jacobson Berg 5 Roosevelt Ave. Malverne, NY 11565 Reflections of a Bishop on Religious Communities Leonard J. Crowley Leonard J. Crowley, Titular Bishop of Mons in Numedia, is Auxiliary Bishop of Montreal. He is Director Of the Office for English Language Affairs in the archdiocese; 2000 Sherbrooke St. West; Montreal, Que. H3H IG4; Canada. n the very fitting context of the Feast of Pentecost last year, two Roman Congregations (The Congregation for Bishops and the Congregation for Religious and for Secular Institutes) promulgated a very significant docu-ment on Directives for the Mutual Relations Between Bishops and Reli-gious in the Church. The statement is significant, for its very existence admits that there is room for growth in understanding between the episcopal office and religious communities. For far too long within the Church's often turbulent history there has been too little fruitful communication between the overseers of the faith and those specialists who have a particular and time-honored gift to share with the faithful. Th~ warning of John Cassian to his monks in the fourth century seems, even today, to express a deep-seated mistrust: "The two groups you must avoid at all times are women and the bishops." The Diocesan/Religious Rivalry This basic antipathy often shows itself as well in the ranks of those from whom the residential bishop is normally chosen in North America--the diocesan clergy. What some may naively call a healthy rivalry between religious and diocesan groups is often~ at root, a basic distrust of one another's real motives and abilities in the exercise of the apostolate. 21 22 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 This recent document addresses itself directly to this sorry condition where it exhorts that "efforts should be made to renew the bonds of fratero nity and cooperation between the diocesan clergy and communities of religious." It even suggests the context of "simple and informal" gather-ings "which serve to increase mutual trust, apostolic solidarity, and fra-ternal harmony" (37). The duty for seeing to it that such fraternal gattierings take place and grow in significance and depth is placed squarely, as it should be, on the shoulders of the bishop. Furthermore, it is the duty of the bishop to so blend the services of diocesan and religious groups that each recognize members of outstanding talent and together support their promotion to positions of service commensurate with their capabilities; for "the bishop should . . . exhort the diocesan priests to recognize gratefully the fruitful contribution made by religious to their Church and to approve willingly their nomination to positions of greater responsibility which are consbnant with their vocation and competency" (55). In basic fact, if we truly are to witness to the mystery of the Lord Jesus in our midst, then there should be no rivalry but only harmony in the service we render. The bishop and his diocesan assistants should rejoice in the presence of specialists who bring a particular talent to minister ina certain area to the People of God. In such a context, "bishops, along with their clergy, should be convinced advo-cates of the consecrated life, defenders of religious communities, promoters of vocations, firm guardians of the specific character of each religious family both in the spiritual and in ihe apostolic field" (28). As a matter of fact, it is the bishop's "specific office to defend consecrated life, to foster and animate the fidelity and authenticity of religious and .~o, help them become part of the communion and of the evangelizing action of his church, acc.ording to their distinctive nature" (52). ~ Difficulties of Identification But herein lies the crux of the problem. Many a bishop would be hard pressed to identify the "distinctive nature" of the religious groups en-trusted to his watchful overseeing. In many instances there seems to have ¯ been a loss of clear identity on the part of religious communities. The bishop i~ fully aware, in most instances, that "the very nature of apostolic action requires that [he] give precedence to interior recollection and to the life of prayer;" but he is also frustrated by the realization that some religious apparently have not taken to heart the realization that they must, "in conformity with their distinctive nature, renew themselves in depth and be assiduous in prayer" (23a). What a bishop must be seeking from religious who reside in or enter his diocese is a specific dedication and consecration to a form of spirituality and to an apostolic witness that is as clear and as vital as it was when the Ruleo that embodies that life was first written. The bishop must be concerned with the future of his flock; but he wants that future founded solidly in the values that have come out of the past. Therefore he must be in search of"religious Reflections of a Bishop on Religious Communities [who], even while showing a particular spirit of enterprise and foresight for the future, [are] intensely loyal to the intention and spirit of their insti-tute." (34). However, the simple fact appears to be that many religious groups have maintained a loyalty to their institute but have lost sight of both its intention and its spirit. The Second, Vatican Council has urged. The Adaptation and Renewal of Religious Life to begin with a sincere return to the spirit and the mind of the Founder and from that unique font to build anew a personal and communal zeal for the spread of the Gospel, in all its richness. It is obvious that many, if not all, religious communities have adapted themselves, their customs, their habits, to the contemporary condition--not without a great deal of soul-searching, painful compromise, and interminable meetings. But adaptation was the easier half of the challenge and directive laid down by Perfectae Caritatis. How many communities have gone on to embrace a radical renewal of their original spirit? For it is in the light of that question that one can honestly ask about the future relevance of religious life. Ignorance of Specific Spirit In many instances, individual religious find it all but impossible to dis-tinguish the uniqueness of their charism from that of other religious commu-nities. Beyond a loyal chauvinism for their own institute, many admit that their vision, their mission, their methodology is essentially the same as evi~ryone else's. The historical reasons that called: the original foundation into existence often are gone now, the needs alleviated, the witness fulfi!led, the expectations satisfied. The more specific the historical reason for the foundation, the more difficult becomes the task of pinpointing its relevance now in the latter part of the twentieth century. This quandary has caused much frustration on the part of dedicated and deeply concerned men and women who recognize the values of their traditions, see a need for apostolic zeal within the mission of the Church, but find it difficult to wed the two into an effective and realistic union within the contemporary con-text. What has happened in the minds of many young religious is to say, "Forget the past. Deal with the present and prepare for the future." But such an outlook definitely isolates one frbmthe ~rich traditions that give reason for the continuing existence of the particular institute. It truly ap-pears that too many religious today are ignorant of the spirit that enkindled the foundation of their community. They may know its historical back-ground; but they have done little to identify with .the charismatic zeal that gives them a uniqueness and an individuality so necessary in building up the full experience that is Church. For there appears today to be little difference between one religious community and another except in terms of an accident of history or geography. Beyond the clear distinctions offered by the stric~tly contemplative and monastic communities, religious orders and societies seem to have Ihid aside those distinctions that called them into 24 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 existence. Many individuals apparently responded to a vocational urging as personified in a particular individual: a teacher, a pastor, a chaplain, a family friend. The specific community to which that individual belonged meant little, except that it was the obvious context within which the indi-vidual was to pursue his vocation if he intended to follow the lead of his childhood hero. Thus many young men have gone in pursuit of the priest-hood, not as a diocesan priest or as a member of a religious community, but as a priest like Father Racine, or Father Joe, or Father O'Brien. Many young ladies simply continued their religious quest in the same context as the academy or the convent school to which they were sent by parents desirous of the best education possible for their offspring and knowing that the "good sisters" would provide just that. Symbol of Identity Of course, as the individual comes to identify with the community to which he has gone, to learn of its traditions and history during his years of postulancy and novitiate, he doubtless grows in love for and identification with the order or the congregation. That identity used to be symbolized .very powerfully in the reception of the religious habit. More than anything else, the habit had been the external symbol of an internal commitment. For many communities of religious women, the bishop was called upon to participate in this very important step in identification with the spirit of the Founder and the vision of the order. But, for many communities today, the habit stands as a symbol of the past. And the search for a clear, contempo-rary sign of identification whereby new members might feel a sense of oneness with the community has been a very frustrating one. Yet, in the beginning, it was not the habit that gave identity; it was the spirit and zeal of the Founder, as these drives inspired the community, giving a clear sense of purpose and single-mindedness to all who embraced the Holy Rule. It is that spirit which must be renewed in religious communities today if the symbols of religious life are to have any role to fulfill within the Church. The Problem of Stability Because many religious communities have been established for the ministry of the Universal Church and not for the local church alone, many within a diocese, often the bishop himself, tend to resent the fluidity of a religious community's commitment to a particular apostolic endeavor. For such persons, whose commitment to the local church is total, there is a very deep-seated hesitancy to entrust the fulfillment of a ministry to a group whose commitment often seems to be as long as its superior's vision is far-reaching. Such an anxiety seems natural and even fortified by the gospel parable about the hireling and the good shepherd. However, what many, whose commitment to the local church is so intense, fail to recognize or to acknowledge is that the purpose of religious exemption is "so that institutes Reflections of a Bishop on Religious Communities carl express their identity more adequately and devote themselves~to ,the common good with special generosity and on a wider scale" (22). If all who work together within the diocesan community have a proper appreciation of the exempt status as "a certain expression of that pastoral concern which unites them intimately with the Roman Pontiff for the universal care of all people," such an awareness "will promote greatly increased apostolic' ini-tiative and missionary zeal in every particular church" (22). ' Of course, every religious community that comes to ~erve the local church, even if it does beloia~ to an institute of pontifical right, "should feel themselves truly a part of the diocesan family" (18b). Therefore their com-mitment should be as deep find their solicitude as pervasive as every other apostolic witness within thediocese. However, in those situations where an institution finds itself "unable to carry on a given undertaking, its superiors should, in good time andwith~confidence; make known the factors hinder-ing its continuance at least in its actual form, especially if this lack is due to personnel. For~his part, ti~e local ordinary should consider sympatheti-cally the re~luest to withdraw from the undertaking and in common accord with the superiors seek a suitable solu'tion" (47). in other words, every local Church must always see itself as a vital organ of the universal People of God under the guidance of the Holy F~ther. None of us can afford to allow our apostolic vision to become so myopic as to blind us to the needs beyond our own backyard. Bishops~ especially, must realize that the zealous service of religious in his pastoral domain is always carried on'with a sense-of ministry to the Universal Church. Such a presence, then, is a blessing as it broadens the horizons of our apostolic perspective and helps us to appreciate more deeply the total concern of the Father for all his children. Thus as religious come and go within a diocese, neither the ordinary nor his diocesan assistants should resent their fluidity but shoiald see, in their willingriess to move as the Spirit calls them, a vivid reminder that we all are a pilgrim people on the move to the home that we can ohly begin to build toward in this world. The Church is larger and more loving than any of us. We must always st.rive to be of humble service to her needs and to free those who feel the ardent call to another vineyard, to another manifestation of the Spirit's solicitude in the midst of the people of God. Future Expectations Religious ~ommunities are ~:alled today to "devote themselves with full awareness and zeal to the task 0f incarnating and manife.sting in the diocese the specific witness and the genuine mission of their institute" (22). This is the value and the service that the bishops, are going to be searching for in the future, all the more so ,as they realize quite clearly that they "are entrusted with the duty of caring for religious charisms . [For] in this way;" by fostering religious life and protecting it in conformity with its own Review for Religious, Volume 38,~!~979/1 definite characteristics, bishops fulfill a real. pastoral duty" (9c). Thus the bi~hopJs going to be in search of and solicitous for those communities that. are responding in the modem day to the needs of the Church after the spirit and .with the zeal of their founders. Quite obviously, then, "religious supe-i- iors have a grave duty, their foremost responsibility in fact, to assure'the fidelity of the members to the charism of the Founder, by fostering :the renewal prescribed by the Council and required by the.times" (14c). The future of religious life will lie in the oab!ljty that each religious community has to move away from the mentali~ty of being an embattled camp; of~asse~ting, by quality of performanceoand depth of, solicitude, the recognition that "every institute exists.for the Church and must enrich her with its.~distinctive characteristics, according~to a particular spirit,and a specific mission" (14b). Eacho!n,stitute-is a shepherd, not a hireling-~.,~but only, ifoit speaks with the voice of its Founder who echoes the voice of the Good Shepherd. "The very charism of the founders appears a_s "an experi-ence of the Spirit' transmitted to their ,disciples to be lived, safeguarded, deepened and constantly developed by them, in harm~gny with the Body of Christ, continually in the process oLgrowth" (11). o. The future of the religious life de, pends, then, on a renewal that will be as much new as it will be re-. Besides a deep appreciation of the~historical origin and vision of one's community, each one,must se, ek innovative and creative ways w~ith which to bringthe wisdom an~t°~technology of contempo-rary society to bear upon the timeless values articulated, by the Lord Jesus and specifi.cally~ pursued within a particular religious context. The more clearly and more wholesomely we can make those value~"'li.~,e in our own day, the more relevant and essential becohaes the role we intend to.fulfillS' That is one reason why the renewal of the religio~us life remains ~such a crucial issue. However, that renewal is feasible only if each in~stitiate ,and every member is clearly aware that"it is necessary to preserve the identity of each institute so securely, that the danger of an ill-defined situation be avoide.d, le§t0religi,ous, failing to give .due consideration to the .particular mode of action proper to their character, become part of the ]if~"of the Ch.urch.in~a vague and ambiguous way" (11). ~_ Personal Reflection' As a bishop, I have been renewed by this document from the two ¯ Congregations, with a sense of the very serious responsibility that I have for the religious communities who minister to the people .I w.atgh o.ver.~I have always hoped that the religious who come into our midst would bring their special gifts and talents to' bea~- however or wherever thei.r apostolic pre~s-ence took them. Now I realize more clearlyothat, together wit.h my brother bishops, !' have a duty to help.directly and distinctly the religious commu~ nities in our midst to remain true to their founders' ideals and to fulfill ~their, specific mission in th.e w_ay that they alone °can do. In other words, 9s bishop, it is my duty to see to it that the apostolic commitment of each ~ ~ ~ ., ~ Refie~ctions.-bf a Bishop on Religigus Communities / 27 community is in keeping with and true to the spirit of their Rule. I must be available to help each religious entrusted to my pastoral care--and that includes every one in the diocese where I ministeruto be true to the specific charism of his or her community. It is my deep hope and confident prayer that religious, for their part, will serve each diocese in which they labor, not as general practitioners of gospel values (nor will: they accept ministries which would expect such an approach), but rather will share the fruits of their own foundations with the whole people of God in the particular and unique way that they are able. Admittedly such an approach demands a restructuring on the part of young and old alike. But that revamping is essential to the future flowering of the religious life and the future fulfillment of the Church. Unity Through Diversity In conclusion, the renewal of every religious community is eventually going to bring each congregation to the realization that we are all struggling toward the day when Jesus will be "'all in all," where there will be no distinct communities because the vision of every founder will finally be focused together in~ the one reality of the Lord Jesus. And there will be'no more religious communities because there will be only one religious Com-munity in the City of Goti; there will be, in the-~0rds of St.'Aug~astine, "one Christ loving himself." Yet, as we move toward that day of fulfillment, we musl move in the paradoxical fashion of human naturemfor~we move toward unity through .diversity. It is that great diversity of religious ingight and,~xp~erience which must be shared.with the Christian Community'in order that its unity might be achieved mor~ effectively and all-inclusively. In order to accomplish that objective; y,oung religious must take gr~at pride in the"tradition to which they ~ commit themselves, a pride that will make them zealous sharers, with all'God's people, of:the girls entrusted by the Spirit to their care. For ,those girls shall be, preserved only if they are generously commu-nicated to and'for the Church. And religious must learn to see in the bishop ,a source of support and solicitude, no longer the "'enemy,''-~but a loving brother, deeply concerned for their well-being and their growth. For the bishop clearly should understand that the future of religiousfife is the future life of the Church. - ~0 As the~Spirit shared the great diversity of his charisms on. that first Pentecost, magi the message that Mother Church has given to her ministers on this past Pentecost Sunday fill all of us ~4ith deep respect and concern for the building up of the girls entrusted to each of us for the life of the Church. Th, en.the grace of the Ho!y ,Spirit will fio~d fulfillment in us all as we bec~me truly one in Christ to the glory of God "the Father. From.""Ministry'' tO"Church Work" The.Fate of Tired Souls Paul Marceau, C.S.C.' " Father Marceau is a doctoral candidate in spirituality at the Graduate Theological Union, .Berkeley, CA. Presently he is on the staff of Moreau Seminary; Notre Dame, IN 46556. n the aftermath of the recen~ papal election a news commentator referred to one of Pope John Paul's distant predecessors who, after assuming the office, said that he spent so much time tending to the needs of others that he was in danger of becoming a stranger to himself. The problem of the threat of'being consumed by the demands of ministry is not a new one. Jesus himself seemed to recognize this danger and from time to,time would draw the disciples aside to rest (Mt 14:13f.). In this articl6 I~will sketch what 1 believe ~to be a particular form which that problem' takes 'in apostolic religious life today: the phenomenon of the over-burdened, under-cared-for religious who is being consumed by apostolic and community work and who, in the process, may be dying a slow and painful death as a human being, a minister, and a religious. As the life of such a person gets frag-mented by the constant demands of apostolic ministry there is a danger of losing one's personal center, and one's relationship with God becomes threatened in the process. Whenthat happens in the life of any minister in the Church I would suggest'that the apostolic activity of such an individual ceases to be "ministry" °and becomes only "church work." Most reiigious in apostolic communities have found (and continue to find) the early years of ministry an intoxicating experience. The apostolic life which they enter after their years in formation is challenging and de-manding. There seems to be so much to be done, so many needs to be 28 From ,"Ministry" to '~Church Work" attended. Within a short time the religious begins to feel needed and ap-preciated in ways that were unknown and perhaps impossible in the years of formation? There. develops a greater sense of self-worth as the person begins to do what he or she could only reflect upon or do only in a controlled and well-regulated way in the years of formation. There is a sense that one is finally fully immersed in ministry and with that comes the sense that one isat last doing something with his or her life, and not simply preparing to do so. A.new dimension of the personality develops and becomes more cen-tral: that of the hainister and apostle. The focus shifts from what ~was, in the years of fOrmation, substantially pr.eparatory, receptive, and to a large degre,e inner-directed and reflective to the active, the outward, the full immersion in ministry. The apostplate in these early years after formation makes heavy de-mands on self and time but most individuals are excited by this and would not want it to be otherwise. With the constant need and cpnstant demand of the apo.stolate, however, there come problems with the m.anagement of one's time and, ,indeed, of one's life. There is less and less time (and perhaps even desire) for leisure, for one's own concerns, for reflection upon one's life. Given the choice between the needs of others and one's "free time"0 (and there doe~ not alw.ays seem to be a choice), the religious often sacrific~es w.tlat .is the e~siest to sacrifice: personal time and space. Prior to the Changes in religious iife'which took place following Vatican I1, time for prayer and reflection was protected, at least in theory,2 by being built into~ the schedule. Such tim(for private ~'ea.ding, prayer, and refl+ction, how-ever, isnow no longer "given"; it has to be found and it seems ~ncreasingly difficult.to find it. Personal prayer and reflection gradually have come to be nudged out of the lives of many by the hectic ~nd busy pace of their apostolic.life. Indeed, there was a time in the past decade when such times aside f(om'ministry were rl.o.t only considered luxuries but were Iobked upon as 'selfish luxuries, as time stolen from the service of others in need. Perso'n~l prayer beco~n"e~, problematic, even for those with the best of intentions. Few, if any.~,fiaiike a conscious decision to give UP personal prayer; it gimply gets~ pushed out by the "more important" and more immediate concerns of Io~,e and service to others. It is a gradual process by which people's lives simply become so overwhelmed by the 9postolic and. qn the past. of course, apostolic involvement during the years of formation w~s minimal. Young religious were protected from such "outside" distractions. As a result, for people trained in such a context, immersion into full-time ministry,provided a shocking change from . their years of formation, The change is less abrupt today since significant apostolic involve-ment is seen as a critical part of formation. Nevertheless, the "full-time" ministry has a dynamic of its own which can really be experienced only in the doing of it, no matter how well one is prepared for it. zWhile time for meditation, spiritual ~'eading, examination of conscience, and so forth, may have been provided in previous schedules, there is certainly enough evidence to wonder to what extent such schedules were ac~tually honored--other than by those in formation. 30 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 community demands that there is simply no time "left over" for oneself., Finding time for' personal prayer becomes a terrible.struggle, the wagingof, ahopeless, losing war. For some, the loss of,,that dimension of their re-ligious life is easily justified by their appeal .to the demands of ministry; for others Such loss is--the Source of much shame and guilt.~ Foi" many, prayer has bedome a time squeezed into'fi hectic and already' cluttered day. It is ~so~ething to be fitted in between Walter Crorikite ahd'~ an evenin~g meeting, or between a dis~tressing hous~ meeting arid the celebration of the Eticharist.:These patterns of prayer-time tend to reflect their livegt prayer time itselfis'9 hectic and bdsy,°'often cluttered, time. Even when the time is fotindfor it, prayer is'filled with the concerns of 0ne's~ day. It is a time full of distractions, a very busy and unfocused time, filled~ with the hundreds of stimuli that the individual brings off ~he street with him: The time which one struggles to have alone'with God becomes a time to do a lot Of religious "business," a trine for pra~,ing for the concerns ministry, .for commending to ~he Lord all the. wounded who ha~d tbuched one's life that day. The time "aside" is really no time aside at'fill but simply a 'diffei-erit'fOi'um for doing what"one had been doing all'day long. " " For"others, the dynamic of personal prayer shiftg from "time aside" to prayer-on-the-i'un, a kind of "are you running ~vith me~, 'Jesus" format. There is sirrligly no 'time to tend to the'personal reli~gidoiums e"n °s i~o'n~ "o:f ~ o' n~e* :s~ ' life, and God is put on "hofoldr "~ n'"creas"~ °ngly lon"g ~er. "p~e ,r i.~ods of time. Not infrequently i'eligious m~ke little bargains with God, prom'ising to return to him at a latCr date when there is more time available: "I'm g?ing tO be very busy this s~'ineste~ and I reall3i won't have mucl~time for prayer ' but I'll get back t'~3ibu at Chris~tmasvacation or during the~summer when things let up a liitle." But Chrqst~n°~s o~:summer vacation corhes along, and when there ts finally t~me for prayer, such individuals find that they can no longer pray as they once d~d because they have fallen out of the habit of personal prayer. The closeness and the ~nt~macy ~s no longer there; God seems to be further away. The more personal, direct and intimat~'relationship~vith God that one might have known in quieter and mor~ peaceful ti~e~ is gone. There is a dis-ea'se about one's relationship to God, and the times alone with him are f0un'd~{o be somewhat strained and uncomfortable. The struggle to fi'nd some t~me aside does not, aftei- all, seem to' be quite worth it because thOre does not seem to be much pbint to it. " ~ Iwshort, given the difficulty of finding times for prayer,~ and the busy and hectic pace we experience,e.ven when they fire found, prayer time becomes~ more and more minimalT"and what there is becomes increasingly lesg satisfying. As a.result,, m~ore and more weight for the spiritual life comes to be put on community, or on "apostolic prayer." Liturgy and'common prayer become the focus and substance of the prayer life .of many to the exclusion of~all other forms. But with that, .there is often felt an, uncom-fortable dissonance between what one says in his~ministry and'what one' From "Ministry" ,to "Church Work" d0es.-,Thus~, although he may preach eloquently; celebrate reverently, discuss the gospel enthusiastically and be complimented and affirmed by his parishioners, students, and fellow community members as being a good priest andreligious, the spiritual dimension of apostolic and community I.ife seems to have no echO;in his ownolife: He believes the message and is sincere when he tblls others about it, but at times it seems very far frorfi what he himselffis experiencing. Neverthe!ess, sharing sacraments,and common prayer~with others is at least a lifeline for many. When there is a dis-ease and a discomfort about being too alone with oneself and with°G0d, one can often find solace in participating in the more formal, more .struc-ttired ,forms of prayer, such as the sacraments and Office, since slach f/arms allow 'one to approach God without being too alone before him. Just as p~ople must build up habits of pr.aYer with time and practice, so it is that they fall out of the habits of personal prayer. Thps, ~hen a pe,rson's life become~ overwhelmed and fragmented by a busy and hectic apostolic ministry, personal prayer becomes difficult not only because of time con-siderations but because the doing of it becomes an uns~itigfying thing. For one who has fallen out of the practice .of personal prayer, moments o~f aloneness can become very frightening, and so instead of struggling tofind such times of alonene'gs and of the oppo~:tunity to foc~us within, the religio0,s may eventually fipd h~mself strugghng to avotd focusing w~th~n for fear of seeing too deeply, with to6"~uch clarity, ~hat may be happening to his fraghaehted life. When tli~it' h~ppens, the 'i~dividual spends an enor~mous amount of time and psychic energy fleeing such moments, protecting him: self from God. P~rsons sensing this dis-ease a, bout the'Jr relationship with God may read about God, talk al~out God, may do'the works of the Church and~ma~ even°hpproach G~d. in the company of othersobut they are often unable to bear facing God' in their aloneness, to be ~ilent before him. If such.is.the fate of n.ot a few apostolic religious in the past decade (and I believe it has b, een), then the task for them, again, becomes one of the struggle t9 av.oid, such moments. The apostolate, itself a contributory cause to this state of affairs, becomes a welcome and easily legitimized.distraction from facing oneself. Religious can throw themselves into their_work and give themselves over to be consumed by the apostqlic need which, as a matter of fact, is always ~,aiting there to be cared for. But this is not the zeal of those early y~ears of their ministry; it is, in fact, just the oppqsite. The work, what one does, is now.no longer ,a way of sharing what is inside, but a way of avoiding it. Instead of zeal andenthusiasm driving one from within to sha~e what.~e .has pers.onally experienced and discovered about'life and about God,,there is flightto the work for its own sake, a flight away from the i,nterior self. ~with diminishing personal energies and resources.tq ~driye and sustain himself, he becomes willingly carried along by the demands of the apostolat~e, .and~ lifebecomes one busy apostolic distraction. When ihat .happen,s, when,a person becomes emptied inside and can live .only on'the 32 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 outside, then he is:no longer engaged in the doing of ministry but.is simply busy about doing what I would call simply "church work." The irony of all this is that a person may be, and very frequently is at this same time in life, just h!tting his professional stride, doing the kinds of things that he always wanted to do in ministry,~with all the requisite pro-fessional training, and receiving very reassuring feedback from others about his ministry--and yet the.re seems to be something terribly missing, and he cannot understand why~ He may be doing very good work, pro-fessionally satisfying, assisting others in. living their lives and yet feel that he.is not doing a very good job of living his own. He might say to himself: "I should be happy but I am not. What is the matter with me?" As one person expressed it to me: "I am good and successful at what I am doing. ! enjPy it and find satisfaction in it--but why do I feel like I am dying?" The constant concerns and needs of others (and the constaht need to be focusing outside oneself), the very things .which used to energize and sus-tain the person in the early years of ministry, now only drain energies and makes the indiviidpal feel th~it his whole life', by choice"or by abdication, is being consumed by the apostolate. The apostolate has become for him a thousand-tentacled monster, constantly making demands, never letting up, constantly draining him of diminished or even exhausted personal energies. For the weary church worker the apostolate becomes a.two-edged sword: it is a welcome distraction protectin.g him from looking too closely within and, at the same time, a drain upon his personal energies even to the point of exhaustion. There is a variation to the above theme ~f the one who allows his life to become c~onsumed by the apostolate~ in order to avoid what may be dying inside, and this variation is marked by the opposite of involvement: with-drawal. For this person the apostolate becomes an eight-hour-a-day (or less)job and he is quite capable of walking away from it in order, as he sees it, to preserve his own necessary personal time and space; Having created sixteen hours of personal time and space of the twenty-four, however, the task he faces then becomes One Of filling up his space and time so that he will dot be left alone with it. In order to defend himself from se6ing the void within, the individual will do anything to fill up that time, to be distracted. He will read novels and magazines for hours (this may be his'version of "'being alone"). He may spend evening after evening watching television without really knowing or caring what is on the screen. He may arrange a heavy social schedule.'He will do anything rather than face the emptiness and discomfort that is within him. The weary church worker's life has become overwhelmed and frag-mented by the consuming demands of today's apostolate. He may be a victim of the work but. in the end; he knows that b,~ ,.'s a willing victim. He m'ay even see himself in the role of a martyr, giving his all that the world rr]ay be saved (or at least a little'more saved). But underneath the hectic and clu~ttered life of today's church worker, there is the danger of building up F¢om "Ministry" to "Church Work" /,33 increasing levels of resentment against those whom he serves. The de-mands never let up and nobody will leave hi~n alone. He may be tired. There may be a lot of suppressed anger and resentment. But worse than either of these, as long as he seems-to be good and successful in his work, is the fact that nobody seems to care about what is dying inside him and how he feels about himself and his ministry. The problem, in fact, is that no one can see what is dying inside him. All the outward signs appear to be good. The iridividual is busy, involved, committed to the apostolate, and actually doing good work there. He is sociable and affable in community, relating well there. No one can see what is happening inside him because no one is allowed to see it. The individual may have a difficult time even bringing himself tO see it and there may be too much shame and guilt to allow anyone else to see it. All the while the person may be saying: "they (superiors, fellow religious, fellow ministers) are themselves too busy ministering to others and I cannot burden them with my problems; I know what I~feel like when one more problem comes my way and I don't want to be just one more problem for' them." There is a final, cruel irony in the situation of the apostolic religious who, by the process described above, has been turned into a busy church WorkeL There is a rehewed interest and concern for spirituality and praye~ in the Church today--and that is w~lcomed. Religious are once more con-cerned about their relationship with God. But, as often a~ not, that concern is a source of guilt rather'than a source of strength. Concern for spirituality and prayer--whether the concern is assumed or imposed~--isjust one more ~lemhnd placed upon the life oLthe already tired religious. Instead of one's i'elationship with God being the source of personal energy and an impetus to ministry, it can become just one more thing to worry about along with.all the others~ one more thing with which the religious has neither the timenor the energy to contend. Instead of being the place of rest where he no longer has to be doing and Working, his prayer becomeg just one more thing to do and to work at. Instead of his relationship with God being the source and center of life, it is thrown in with all the other things which clamor for attention in a life which has lost its center. Apostolic religious communities in America today are running the risk of producing amongtheir members merely weary church workers suffering from battle fatigue. In the long run, however, there will be a price to pay in human suffering and tragedy, as suppressed anger and resentment can be suppressed no longer and begin to surface, Often in indirect but destructive ways. Religious will retire too Soon from the battle, burnt out men and women who will no longer be driven or taken advantage of. They will unclutter their lives of hectic apostolic activity and then turn and fill them up with other more relaxing distractions; but whether busy with apostolate or busy with relaxing distractions, many will be leading lives of quiet desperation because their lives no longer have any focus or center to hold them together. Review for Religious, Volunie°38, 1979/1 There are alternatives, I think, to the way we live apostolic religious life and the way we do ministrytoday. Just ~as~we do no good for a.materialistic society if we ourselves get caught up in its materialistic ethos, likewise we do little good for a society that runs at an insane pace, fragmenting the lives of its people when we ourselves run at; that.~same pace, becoming quite as fragmented in our own lives. A different style and pace of apostolic religious life need not mean that apostolic ministry be less involx;ed, less concerned, or less whole-hearted than it is now. .~ . ~.," Finding the meaning of one's life in one's relationship to God and sustaining that relationship personally through reflection and prayermmany indeed "take time away from others" but it may also allow us to offer them something more than what had been our busy, overburdened lives. G~'ound-ing our personal lives outside of the work we do may both'free us from the apostolate and, at the same time. free us for it. We will be freed from the apostolate not in the sense that we will lose the apostOlic dimension of our life in favor of the comtemplative life but rather in'!the sense that the meaning of our lives, as individuals and as communities, would no longer be tied to this specific apostolate and this particular work. "We would be freed from the works of our own hands to pursue and minister to the needs of people wherever and whatever they may.be, On .the other hand, it may well be that we would be doing the same kinds of. things ,that we are ,doing now,. but the person doing them will be different: still busy, but less frantic, and bringing to those situations a life which is a little calmer, a little more rootedand peaceful. Our apostolic ministry might be less cluttered but, at the same time, more deeply involved; we might be less frenzied, but also more zealous about the things we do. Finding the focus and center of one's life in God and taking time to tend to that dimension of life will give impetus and focus to our ministry. It will take :nothing away from it but will, instead, make ministry all the more importantmand all the more possible. "Promises to Keep"' A Homily for Final Vows J.Peter Schineller, S.J. Father Schineller, ~ member of the faculty of the Jesuit School of Theology in Chicago (JSTC), shared with those who witnessed his final vows in the Society of Jesus the't~houghts and movements that were his then. He resides at 5554 s. Woodlawn Ave.; Chicago, IL 60637. While'I was visiting "my brother and sister-in-law over the Christmas hblidays, as oftenhappens with a new toy, an argument arose betweeh their two children. The younger boy was unwilling to let his big sister play with his new eiectriC helicopter. The conversation went something like this: "It's my t6rn! You'have to let me play ffith~it."" "I don't want to and 1 don't have to." "You have to, and you know you have to." "I don't ~have to,' and I ~on't." "You have to, because you promised!" "Well, OK." My five year old nephew was trapped. He was caught by his promise, and he kne~ it. He knew in his child's wisdom that a prom~ise is something special, something sacred, and not just any old word. Promises make a difference.' "The child in me made promises more than 18 years ago, not about toys, but about how to spend my whole life*; promises not to ariother pers6n, but promises to God, tlie Father of all persons. And here I am this ~evening, to *The Jesuit's "first vows," taken at the end of the novitiate, include the perpetual vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. (Editor)' 35 36 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 renew and to finalize those promises in my profession of "final vows," and to renew the promises with joy and enthusiasm. And so in these last few moments in which I am still a Jesuit scholastic, I would :like to share a few thoughts on 1) how I see these promises, 2) where the inspiration to make the promises comes from, and 3) how it is possible for anyone to make a profession of vows. First of all, what am I promising and vowing this evening? In one sense, it is nothing new, nothing beyond what I promised eighteen years ago, a life of poverty, chastity and obedience in the Society of Jesus. It is not a new turn, a grandiose new option, but rather a public statement of my choice tO continue on the road begun. Yet in another sense, it is a new choosing, because with eyes far more open than 18 years ago, I am saying, "This is the path for me, and I promise to take this path as long as I live." The promises I make tonight are promises that I can only make tonight, and could not have haade five, ten--or eighteen years ago. Much has been written about the meaning of the vowed life. i donit intend'to present a new theory, but let me say briefly how.I see what I am promising. In the vow of obedience, I am saying that I will not try to build ~a career for myself. Rather my life is a responding life in the Society of Jesus, a response to the call of God as seen in the needs of others. In chastity I am foregoing the joys, pleasures and anxieties of building a home and family and thus establishing family roots. My basic community will be the Jesuits I live, work, and move with. In this way I hope to be available for loving service, wherever the good news of God's love is called for. In poverty I am saying that I will look upon my time, talents, education as always God's gift to me, not for myself, but to be shared in the service of others. Finally, I promise to do all of this as a member of the Society of Jesus. That is much easier to grasp and to explain. For it means living, growing, working, enjoying life, and dying with many of the persons you see here. And it is quite a group: young and old, tall and short, from all over the United States, and even from around the world. What do w,e have in common? All of us are engaged in the serious convers.~ition and ctiallenges of Christian life and ministry, in the~.tradition of Ignatius and the many .great Jesuits of the past and present. We are trying-in many different ways to let the good news of the love of God break into this world. ~ Secondly, where do I get the urge or inspiration to make these vows and promises? If it comes simply from my own imagination, then I could make and break these promises without further ado. But years ago, in quiet and diverse ways, the idea crept into my head to be a Jestlit and a priest. The idea came fr.om reading books, from conversation; from the example of my family, parish priests, and from Jesuits who taught me, And so I responded. "Promises to Keep," A,Homily for Final Vows But it was a long time ago that the journey began. Today where do I get the inspiration to make this profession of final 'vows? It seems to me that the process is quite similar. You, so many here, and so many who couldn't be here, in your own ways, have kept ~the vision and ideal of being a Jesuit priest before my eyes. YOU have been sending me signals, challenging, pushing, leading m.e, ~and so I respond. You have been sending me signals,' as I read them, that indicate that what I am about is good, and is from God. Signals have come from the parish at Harvey, Where I help on Sundays, to friends and teachers at the University of Chicago; from Jesuits in New York to students I teach and learn with here at the Jesu.itSchool of Theology; from fellow faculty members, friends of Hyde Park, to those I live with at Jesuit House. And I have to rely on :these signals, signals which have given me hope, courage, and confidence .,that 1 am on the right path. There is one conviction that has grown over the years, that while the vows are finally from God and made to God, it is according to his plan and purpose that the desire and courage to take and renew the promises of vows always comes mediated through.human lives. I sensed today a new insight into, or application of the parable of the last judgment in Matthew 25. If I might dare paraphrase it, I would say, "what I prpmise or vow to you, the least ofGod's brothers and sisters, I am vowing to God himself." But thirdly, how it is ppssible to make and live such promises? Many would say that this way of life is inhuman, psychologically unhealthy, or even un-Christian. How can i be sure that this is truly the will of God for me? How can I avoid the danger of the vows, the danger of being un-loving, irresponsible, the danger of pride in thinking that I have chosen a "better w~y" than n0n-vowed life? How can I'choose or control the future, and say where I wish to be ten or thirty years from now? Am I not fighting against Christian freedom, the freedom of the Spirit? Finally, and most trouble-some, how can I promise to God what he alone can give true obedience, holy poverty, and perfect chastity? These virtues are his gifts, and so how dare I promise or vow them'before God? The answer to these difficulties and°dangers must be an answer in faith, hope, and loving trust. Let me explain: I used to think I could figure it out--and had figured it out. I had what I thought was an adequate view of God, a solid enough view.of myself and the meaning and possibiliti~es of human life. I thought that on the basis of this perspective I could pronounce and keep my vows. They made a lot of sense. Now I see it is ndt so easy. For I see that vowed life, in common with all life, is, to use Karl Rahner's phrase, "a surrender to the mystery and incomprehensibility of God." I can't give a complete and adequate rational account or grounding for vowed life, for myself or anyone else. But on the basis of expei'ience and prayerful reflection, I dare to say that this life is not only.possible, but it is God's will and graced way for me. Living the vows as I have been about and encoun- 311 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/'1 tering the mystery of God in and through them is. their only final justification. Th.ey have been, are, and I say tonight, will continue to be my way to meet God, to be myself, and to respond to the needs .of God's people., Just as the Jesuit-.style of life has shaped my daily existence, so, in a.mysteriou.s way, the vowed life has shaped and formed my faith-filled idea of God himself. The God, revealed to me through the vows is a God I can and must stand before in trust. He is the one. who gives joy, peace, fulfillment, and a sense of purpose and mission far deeper tha~ any that I could create or grasp on my own. Moving to the center of the mystery of the possibility of the vows, I dare to say in and through these vows that God, the incomprehensible one, is not distant, far-off, uninvolved, but rather he is somehow present and working as the one who makes possible these promises in the first place. I find I am almost forced to say that he, in his Holy Spirit, is making the vbws and promises in and through me. And go only on this basis.do I dare to promise what God alone can give as gift. For I am convinced that it is a response to his impulse and urge that pushes me to make this commitment. I began these reflections with the story of a child:s pr~mise at Christ-mastime. Let me conclude with a poet's words on promises. In the midst ofa busy Week in a snow filled winter in Chicago, a pocida of Robert'Frost is perhaps most appropriate, "Stopping by Woods on a Siaowy Evening." It is good that we are here together, pausing; ~stopping not by woo~is, but in the city i~f Chicago in Augustana Lutheran Church.Tlie poet, stopping with his horse and carriage explains, "The woods are lovely, d~rk and deelS." And ~peaking formyself, Isay, yes,the woods I have journeyed through over ,the past eighteen years have been lovely, dark and deep. The woods a~re lovely--exciting, encouraging, adventuresome and challenging years, with beautiful moments of joy and peace, so lovely that~ I gla.dly, freely continue down this path. The woods are dark--filled with the .unexpected, from a pre-Vatican II Church onward towards Vatican III, with the graced paradox of a Jesuit pronouncing his final vows in a Lutheran church. Final-ly, the woods are deep if nottiing else the years of th~ journey have been deep, far too deep for me to understand and explain all that led me here tonight,, and all that is involved in this celebration, far tro deep for me to adequa.tely thank all who have supported and e, ncouraged me. Yes, the woods have been deep--filled with the mysterious presence of God in one humari life. The,,woods I,have journeyed through have been lovely, dark and deep, and I am saying in effect tonight that I would not trade a~0ay this way of, life through the woods for any other way. I say this joyfully, and as strongly as I can. But we can't stop here and pause here too long in-snow filled Chicago. For as the poet reminds us,'and as his poem concludes: "Promises to Keep," A Homily for Final Vows / 39 The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep. May God who is Father, Son and Spirit continue to strengthen and guide each one of us on our journeys in the miles ahead. REPRINTS FROM THE REVIEW "A Method for Eliminating Method in Prayer," H. F. Smith, S.J . 30 "An Apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice," M. Oliva, S.J . 50 "CelibateGerhtality," W. F. Kraft . 50 "Celibacy and Contemplatio~n,'~ D. Dennehy, S.J . 30 "Colloquy of God with a Soul that Truly Seeks Him" . 3.0. "Consciousness Exhmen," G: A. Aschenbrenner, S.J. . ~.50 "Hidden in Jesus Before the Father," G. A. Asch~ffbrenner, S.J . 50 "Institutional Business Administration & Religious," Flanagan and O'Connor . 30 "Instruction on the Renewal of Religious Formation;' S.C. for Rel!gious . ~ . .~. . 35 "Prayer-of Personal Reminiscence," D. J,' Hassel, S.J .6.0. '~Profile of the Spirit: A Theology of .Disdernment of Spirits," J. R. Sheets, S.J. ' . 50 "Psychosexual Maturity in CelibateDevelopment," P. Cristatitiello . . . ~ . 60 "Retirement or Vigil," B. Ashley, O,P. .~.3.0 "The 'Active-Contemplative' Problem," D. M. Knight .7.5. "The Contemporary Spirituality of ihe Monastic Lectio," M, Neuman, O.S.B: . ~. . 50 "The Four Momeiats of Prayer," J. R. Sheets, S.J .5.0. "The Healing of Memories," F. Martin . . . 35 "The Nature and Value of a Directed Retreat," H. F. Smith,oS.J . :.° . .35 Orders for the' above should be sent to: Review for Religious Room 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St~ Louis, MO 63108 Destructive Passivity Spiritual Direction in Judith Roemer Sister Judith is a member of the staff of the Jesuit Center for Spiritual Growth; Church Road; Wernersville, PA 19565. ecently, I have become aware of the work of Aar.on a.nd Jacqui Schiff on psychological aspects of passivity (T. A. Journal, 1:1, January, 1971). As I read some of their findings, I began to see applications to the situation of spiritual direction. I began to realize how important it is for directors to be more alert in detecting patterns of destructive passivity in their directees. I came to recognize how important it is not to foster such patterns. It.seems to me, then, that noting and examining the categories of these psychologists regarding negative passivity can be highly productive in improving the process of spiritual direction. ~ "Passivity" has long been esteemed in the spiritual life. For that reason, it seems necessary to distinguish clearly from the start precisely what is the subject of this paper. There definitely is a time for activity, and a time for passivity. What seems essential is that passivity, as a way of responding, be carefully chosen. When, after looking at a situation and being in touch with my faith, my intelligence, and my affectivity, I decide to do nothing, I have made good use of passivity. This paper is not about those freely-chosen, well-thought-'out, peacefully and joyfully chosen situations. On the con-trary, this paper is concerned .with a form of passivity which inhibits adult responsibility and substitutes an unproductive way of acting for a decision. Previously I had thought of passivity in terms of "'dging nothing," However, the unproductive types of passivity wear many masks. Along 40 Destructive Passivity in Spirit.ual Direction / lll with "doing. nothing," passivity can take the form of "over-adaptation," "agitation," "incapacitation," and "violence." Each form in turn has many other forms as the category is expanded. In writing about the situation of spiritual~direction, my assumption is that, for the most part, I am dealing with normal, productive adults. Hen~e~ without pushing Schiffs' original categories of abnormal behavior beyond their intent, I suggest that the destructive areas of passive behavior noted by them do have potential tendencies that are also to be~found ~n the situation of directing healthy adults. Both director and directee carl profit by being aware of them. Secondly, I want to show that the Spiritual Exer-cises of St. Ignatius contain some useful tactics for cou.nteracting destruc-. tive passivity. Using these tactics can be the occasion for providing quality decisions for the furtherance of the Kingdom. Doing Nothing In religious circles we often smile knowingly at the self-made martyr; we chide one another with the standard phrase, "Offer it up." We are indignant at the priest and levite who preceded the Good Samaritan and passed by the wounded stranger because it wasn't their business. We scoff at Cain as iii~ asks about being his brother's keeper. All of these are simply good exam-ples of the first category of destructive passivity, of doing nothing. Not quite so obvious is the example of a person who gathers data ad infinitum; waiting endlessly for the perfect insight, the perfect moment, before con-cretizing his dream in decision. Close to him is the example of the person who is caught in speculation to the point of paralysis. His personal intui-tions convolute beyond time and talent, becoming a threatening burden rather than a beaconing light. Substituting one a~tivity for another, washing the car instead of writing the checks, is yet another form of "doing nothing." A quite obvious form is plain indecisiveness. Not quite so easy to detect would be falling into a certain disproportionate balance of activity and passivity in prayer. One of the greatest struggles in prayer is knowing when to let go of activity in order to be quiet. As a person moves from a meditative stance to a contemplative stance, he is faced with the decision to choose or to resist passivity. Instinctively he would tend to resist whatever would challenge his depen-dence on word, fantasy, clarity or concept. In prayer, though, a person at some time is faced with the necessity of choosing the darkness of faith in place of his familiar dependency on thoughts and feelings. In the Exercises of St. Ignatius, the First Principle and Foundation (23) gives a clear direction against ~'doiflg nothingi': "The other things., are created for man to help him . Hence he ought to make use of them insofar as they help., and to rid himself of them insofar as they prove a hindrance." Later, in the Kingdom (91-98) the id quod volo (grace desired) is indicat- 49 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 ed in the petition to be "prompt and diligent., not to be deaf." Further on, the Three Classes of Men (149-155) portray sets of persons in the midst of decisions. At one extreme is the destructively passive man, who, filled with hopes, dreams, doubts, and attachments, comes to the end of~ his life uncommitted, not having "made use of any means." At the other end is the man of the ThirdClass who has developed a sense of freedom, a willingness to work with many options "to be better able to serve God our Lord." Many,, times people are unaware that there is any way out of their unproductive passivity, and thus see "doing nothing" as a way of survival. But this neednot be the case. A director who insists on careful discernment encourages his directee to find and develop many alternatives, thus lessen-ing the need for anyone to be locked into a single unproductive mode of ¯ acting. Over-adaptation A second, kind of passivity is over-adaptation; taking another's goal as one's own. Unlike the former category of "doing nothing," this one of over-adaptation appears to be busy and productive. Yet the exaggerated dependency role continues to operate and the results are destructive. Fear and "peace at any price" are common manifestations of over-adaptation in religious life. Yet it is often close to ordinary adaptation, which is a necessary~part of human existence. Hence over:gdaptation is difficult~to spot externally. However, careful listening to a directee can give a director many hints of how the directee is going to excessive pains not to cause trouble, to be nice, to be cooperative. Unfortunately it is not uncommon to hear of difficult or even impossible situations in which a person chooses to "sit" on his thoughts and feelings, to "adapt" rather than confront another person or a structure. The pain is often "offered up," and the unhealthy situation persists lest the individual be considered unmortified, or narrow-minded. Fear, too, can be used to mask over-adaptation. Especially among reli-gious women, being timid sometimes has an air of virtue about it. The timid woman wants to be rescued, preferably by a male spiritual director who will protect, reassure, and comfort her without suggesting that she move out of her unproductivity :and decide, with his help, what she is to do about it. Rather insidiously, this kind ofpassivity can be a mask for a deeper kind of aggression. It is difficult to challenge someone who is "trying so hard" to cooperate. Consciously or unconsciously, it doesn't take too long for the over-adapter to learn how much control can be gained in such a situation. Unfortunately, this kind of over-adaptation is often canonized as "docility." ,. Ironically, gaining control through over-adaptation often proves frus-trating. In the effort to mold, regulate and maintain the climate of safety created by over-adaptation, the directee often cannot hear the voice of the Destructive Passivity in Spiritua[ Direction Spirit. This kind of person has set up an atmosphere in which he does not have to give up his security. In clinging to safety he has substantially cut himself off from the world of inspiration and challenge. Directors often see this in directees who cannot believe that God could possibly be leading them beyond their self-made rules, beyond their self-made security and safety. Directees see this in directors who speak only of asceticism, never of mysticism, who prefer devotions and practices instead of fidelity to the Spirit. In some way those who claim they have no time for prayer as well as those who claim they cannot be involved with their neighbors both have fallen heir to passivity,in the form of over-adaptation. The former have let the rat race rather than their own head, heart and faith decide their destiny. The latter have refused to be molded by the poverty, particularity, and concreteness of the Incarnation.' Lastly, in our day, we often fail victim to concern for public relations. Our assumptions about what the bishop will think, what the lay teachers will think, what our community will think, what the Protestants Will think, what the children will think, and so on, endlessly, often decide the course of important events ?Further, they are used as a justification and motivation for over-adapting, for decisions which are unworthy of our faith experi-ence. Over-adaptation is an excellent example of how the "angel of darkness" comes disguised as an "angel of light" (Ex 332). We are all familiar with the monsters that have arisen in the guise of virtue under such "headings as availability, community, poverty, or blind obedience. Burning the candle at both ends, :navel gazing, stinginess, and the ill-use of human talents are all destructive~and.unworthy of the Kingdom. Those who have suffered these delusions might well look less to over-adaptation and more to considered responsiveness in their future decision-making. The Exercises are intended to be a celebration of one's gift of spiritual freedom. Key to that~disposition is ~ spirit of indifference. 1 can use things when I need them and put them aside when they hinder'rme. I canchoose the one or the other, not being unduly influenced by position, location or advancement. Such a stance demands a sense of presence: pres~ence to myself ag I accept the wonder and agony of who I am; and presence'to God as I accept the reality of Someone beyond'me who loves me, At the peak~ of the Ignatian ,experience, the exercitant becomes a cor~templative-in-action. Again and again, each one of the exercises faces him with the question: "What do I want?" He is asked to identify his desire and pray for what he needs. He is asked to face the reality of what he can do, what he needs to ask for, what he plans to do about it all. As though this were not enough, he is asked to order his de~i~es, prioritize his Iongings, lest he assume the posture of the man of the Secon~l Class (Ex 154), thus leaving himself open 44 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 to compromise and mediocrity, It is comforting to note that over-adaptation is often the easiest of the unproductive passivities to remedy. Most people who are negatively pas-sive have done a lot 0fthinking :to arrive at such a position. They are equally capable of assimilating new. information, though. For this reason, it would be a good thing for a director to confront such negative passivity directly. Thinking seriously about developing more positive options, a director and directee can develop new alternatives that lead to more creative results. Agitation The third category of unproductive passivity is agitation, the repetition of actions that have no meaning in terms of what the individual is seeking. In prayer this often shows itself in the kind of spiritual gluttony that ex-cludes the invitation to the darkness of faith. Most of us who pray consistently catch ourselves at times trying too hard, attempting to "program" a religious experience by learning the new-est techniques, and then clinging to the resultant experience as though it were God. Once an individual has fallen into this, it ultimately comes to him asa surprise to find that faith is~dark. His experience with this darkness then arouses anger, possessiveness, the demand that God come to him on his terms. His first experience with this reality often brings about more agita-tion in the form of worry, fretting, the gloomy exaggeration of his situation out of all proportion to its reality. Many persons tend to drop prayer at this point; "Nothing is happening," they say. Or they become over, involved in new techniques, in more interesting works, or in other people, rather than take the effort to learn to live comfortably with dark faith. Since religious people tend to be idealistic, they tend to strive for goals so high that the gap between the real self and the ideal self creates depres-sion rather than energy. Here is where good direction offers an opportunity for balance. Directors should be on the alert for extremes. Wild imaginings in time of prayer, quickly changing moods of sadness, exuberance, fear, or zeal need testing. It seems unlikely that experiences of being "bugged by God" about small ~hings or "being made to suffer" by God hold up in the pro.cess of good discernment. It is more likely that persons have allowed themselves the "luxury" of agitation as a replacement for the decision to accept fully the implication's of their call. Such a decision, lived, is sobering. Life with God becomes quiet, gentle, strong, and often hidden. One must be willing to give up the excitement of flurry, th.e pride of being a "martyr to the cause," the prestigiousness of extraordinary phenomena. The con-crete decision i.s amazingly simple, poor, and hidden, just as it was when the Word was made Flesh. St. Ignatius has many suggestions for coun~teracting agitation. In the Rules for Discernment for the First W~eek (313-327) he describes the behav-ior that is characteristic of those facing their own sinfulness. He warns Destructive Passivity in Spiritual Direction against secrecy, sadness, false reasoning, restiessness, frames of mind that lead to lack of faith, hope, and love. In the Second Week's Rules for Discernment (328-336) he describes the experience of agitation as "'violent, noisy, and disturbing." These, he counsels, are from the evil one. Again, [the course of thoughts suggested to us] may end in what weakens the soul, or disquiets it; or by destroying the peace, tranquility, and quiet which it had before, it may cause disturbance to the soul. These things are a clear sign that the thoughts are proceeding from the evil spirit, the enemy of our progress and eternal salvation ~333). Unfortunately, many enjoy their agitation. Not only does it substitute for their having to make a decision, but they can often find convincing reasons to suggest why it is actually accomplishing something. However, this would be a dangerous area to cultivate.Little that is long-lasting for the K~ngdom is accomplished through such agitation. Further, the'anxiety that I am arousing can move me into the more destructive aspects of passivity: incapacitation or violence. For the director, little or nothing is accom-plished by cooperating with the agitation ofhis directee. In fact, trying to dialog logically with a person in this state often brings the directee more deeply into a dependency role, delaying a good decision. In these cases an effort should be made by both director and directee to calm the agitation, moving it back to an over-adaptive situation where, temporarily at least, the director can give calm instructions that will provide a better atmosphere for the directee to think of alternatives and decide on more productive options. Incapacitation A more entrenched kind of passivity is the fourth type: incapacitation. 'One of the most common manifestations of freezing or incapacitation tn spirituality is stubbornness, an unwillingness to move one step further until I fully understand where I am going. This kind of stubbornness commonly occurs during the transition from meditation to contemplation. "I don't know what is going to happen, and I will not let go until I do," The result is that I stay where I am, often giving up mental prayer as a result. Hand-maid to stubbornness is scruple, a fear of doing something good lest I be wrong or at least somewhat ill-motivated, Much good can be left undone while a person worries about whether or not he is proud, vain, or ambitious, The Exercises answer this frame of mind. lfl such cases one should raise his mind to his Creator and Lord, and if he sees what fie is about to do is in keeping with God's service~, or at least not opposed to it, he should act directly against the temptation. According to St. Bernard, we must answer the tempter, "" I did not undertake this because of you, and I a.m not going to relinquish it~because of you" (351). Refusing to let go of an emotion, pleasant or agonizing, is another form of incapacitation. "'I can only pray provided it is a high experience." ""Io have grown comfortable with my anger (resentment, low self-image) and 46 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 the atmosphere I create helps me feel secure. I control my environment." Unfortunately, the situation backfires and shields the individual from life, i~ssenin'g the likelihood of his loving or suffering, rejoicing or crying with the rhythms of the real world. Having entrenched himself in his low self-image, he begins to project distorting 'images on God. God becomes the Great Controller, the Life-Taker, the Divine Exactor, rather than the Evoker of Freedom and the Loving Father. Lastly, incapacitation demon-strates itself as an unwillingness, an inability to look at one's blind spots. Fear of losing the security of his images often prevents the individual from being called beyond his own devices to the darkness of faith by the whispers of the Spirit. The Ex~rcises face incapacitation firmly by asking the individual to seek for the gift of knowing that he is deeply loved and ~knowing that he is at the same time sinful. Coupled with that grace is his growing realization of who he i~the wonder and the agonywthat leads him to grow comfortable and free with his own reality. In the protection of this new freedom the person does not.have to struggle for survival. He has experienced love. He knows that he is "precious in his sight" (Is 43:4). The Exercises would stir him out of his inactivity, bidding him to look at his secret stubbornnesses as a "false lover" who readily leaves as soon as he is discovered (326). In #325, I am admonished to face the temptation boldly so that it can be put to flight. My willingness to renounce my incapacitation reaches a high .moment when I honest|y put myse|f before Christ on the Cross "as one friend speaks to another" and hear myself own the answers to the triple question, " What have I done for Christ? What am I doing for Christ? What ought I to do for Christ?" (53). Paradoxically, the most extreme kind of passivity is violence. In it I give up my responsibility for thinking and loving to vent my energy on destruc-tion. Among religious people the violence is often inward: psychosomatic illness, masturbation, guilt, tortured imaginings. These are a poor substitute for the ecstacy to which I am called. The individual prefers the certainty of destruction to the uncertainty of wonder. Even worse, ,he can cloak the mess he has created in a false rationalization of the Third Degree of Humil-ity (Ex 167),thinking that these passivities are his way of bearing poverty, humiliation, and scorn with Christ. Eventually the fruits of distress and frustration, both in himself and in those who have to live with him, will hopefully bring him to his senses. The fruits of true Christian suffering and a true participation in Christ's life always bring forth peace and joy in the depths of the spirit. Violence can also be outwardly directed. We religious may not throw a chair through a window, but we do impose verbal burdens

Part one of an interview with Dorothy Giadone Poirier. Topics include: Where in Italy her grandparents came from and what they were like. Her father's work history. What her parents were like. The foods her mother would prepare. What her parents thought when Dottie's first marriage ended and their acceptance of her new husband. Memories of her family. Dottie is half Italian and half Sicilian. What family meals were like when Dottie was growing up. How Fitchburg, MA has changed over time. Her family moved to Leominster, MA. Her father's activity in the community and in politics. Memories of working in her father's furniture store. How her father got into the business. What it was like when her father passed away. What the customers were like at the furniture store. ; 1 DOTTIE: Oh, I bumped into her a lot at [Shritzer] or whatever. SPEAKER 1: [Unintelligible - 00:00:09]. DOTTIE: Joe and Alice. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. DOTTIE: A lot of times they say well, come by and have a drink before, and I say no I'm going out. Uh, so I met him in the parking lot, and he said you better not say you can't meet -- you can't come for breakfast. Oh, I says, no. I'll be there. SPEAKER 1: Okay. [Unintelligible - 00:00:27] with the Center for Italian Culture 1002, and being interviewed five minutes of eleven. So thank you, Dottie. DOTTIE: Pleasure. SPEAKER 1: So you were telling me a little bit about your father, your father Bill Giadone. DOTTIE: Yes. Yes. SPEAKER 1: And just how influential he was in Fitchburg. DOTTIE: Very, very. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. Can you tell me a little bit? Mm-hmm. LINDAY: Oh yes. His grand -- his mother and father both, they were still -- I mean, they didn't die until I was, had -- I was a young adult. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. DOTTIE: Uh, his father was a very typical Italian, very stern. Mother was the salt of the earth. Just a sweet lady. In fact, one time I made a comment, I says to my husband, "Gee, sorry you didn't meet my grandmother, you would have just adored her." And then I says, "My grandfather—this is no baloney—you would have gotten along good with him." So he was man's man, my grandfather. But as a child, you don't realize that and you became frightened of him. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. DOTTIE: If he said be quiet, be quiet, except my younger sister. SPEAKER 1: Where did they come from? DOTTIE: My grandfather came from a small town in Sicily called [Pepepezzia]. 2 SPEAKER 1: Would you know how to spell…? DOTTIE: [Unintelligible - 00:01:43]. SPEAKER 1: Okay. So he came from Sicily? DOTTIE: Yes. SPEAKER 1: What about your grandma? DOTTIE: My grandmother also. They were both -- came over. I'm not sure of the exact -- well, maybe if we kind of -- my father was born in 1908, and he came here when he was six years old. So that was 1913? SPEAKER 1: Fourteen. DOTTIE: Fourteen, yeah. So that's when they came here. And they settled in Fitchburg, but I'm not sure exactly where they -- well, I guess at one time they lived on Hale Street when they were kids. I mean, I don't remember. I mean, back when my father was a kid. And my father went to -- I think he went to start the sixth grade, and then he left, and he worked around here in a bakery shop, I guess. I think it was Padua. And when he was 15, 16 years old, he [unintelligible - 00:02:40] something for a young fella to do that. And, I guess he went with some fellas, his friends from the area, and they got an apartment. And the reason he started shaving with a straight razor, which because every time he went to shave his razors were gone or dull or whatever. So he says I'll fix them. I'm going to learn how to shave with a straight razor. So he shaved with a straight razor up until the time he got an electric razor. SPEAKER 1: Really. DOTTIE: Yeah. So as a kid growing up, he shaved with a -- he had the strap and he shaved with a straight razor. SPEAKER 1: So you remember watching him do that? DOTTIE: Yes. Yes. And then he said that he worked his way up to bellboy, bell captain. He worked for the Yale Club in New York, and he said he got an education there as being a bellboy with the guys from Yale. Also, while he was in New York, he said he only did it for a while because the people were not clean at [unintelligible - 00:04:00]. I guess he tried everything, 3 and he says -- my mother tells the story, and she said, "Well, he gave that up quickly because someone came in that wasn't clean," so your father says, not doing this. So then he came back to Fitchburg for maybe a visit, and at the time they would have dances, and that's how he met my mother. He was running a dance thing. And he started an oil business and married in '32, so almost right away, and he had that oil business -- I want to say until [Audies], and that's when he started a furniture store. Actually, it was -- he was selling appliances. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. Right on Water Street? DOTTIE: Right on Water Street. And then he had a small little store, and then he bought a larger store where we lived. The bottom part was the store, and then upstairs was -- we had a fairly large apartment. SPEAKER 1: And that was at 3 -- 320 Water Street. DOTTIE: 320 Water Street. SPEAKER 1: Now, the oil business that he started, do you remember -- do you know the name of that? DOTTIE: Yes. Giadone's. And then he also had a gas station. SPEAKER 1: Now, how did he get involved in that? Do you know? DOTTIE: I don't remember. All I know is he had the gas station and he also had the oil business. I guess he started the gas business as someplace to put his trucks. So -- and he also, I guess, they delivered ice at the time too. SPEAKER 1: Okay. Do you remember…? DOTTIE: My mother, Fiona [Barzarelli], she was in Fitchburg, and it came from [unintelligible - 00:06:01]. SPEAKER 1: Okay. So they first were connected in New York? DOTTIE: Yeah, that area. That's where -- but she was very young. When she -- my mother had a very, very hard life because her mother was paralyzed, so she had to feed and clothe my grandmother, plus she had to do all the cooking. She had two brothers that she had to do the cooking and cleaning for. SPEAKER 1: And this was in Fitchburg by that time.4 DOTTIE: This was in Fitchburg, yeah. So…. SPEAKER 1: What did her father do? DOTTIE: Her father worked at a foundry in Fitchburg [unintelligible - 00:06:35] another foundry. And he worked in the Fitchburg area. And my grandfather too. I forget where he worked, but he worked in the area. SPEAKER 1: Now, did you know them also? DOTTIE: My grandmother I didn't remember. She died when I think I was two or three years old. I mean, these are the stories that -- Alice would know my grandmother better because she was older. SPEAKER 1: Okay. And Alice…. DOTTIE: Adante, yes. SPEAKER 1: Is she a [unintelligible - 00:06:59]? I don't remember. DOTTIE: Yes. Yes. Her father and my mother were brothers and sisters, so. And we were brought up close. She has -- well, she had -- there's only three now because one passed away. She had four brothers. SPEAKER 1: Okay. DOTTIE: And her mother and my mother were very close even though they were sister-in-laws. So my mother was close with my father's sister also. SPEAKER 1: So your mother had to take care of her mother? What happened when she got married? DOTTIE: Her father lived with us. My grandfather lived with us until I think I was seven or eight years old. I remember him just a little. Then my mother's brother, the other brother, went away and came home with this cousin of theirs, and he lived with us until he passed away. And he was only a cousin, and my mother would get -- 'cause men, you know, have as they get older they get a little sloppier and stuff. So my father would [unintelligible - 00:08:04] a relative. SPEAKER 1: So was that kind of expected back then…? DOTTIE: Yes. Just take care of your mother and father. They lived, like I said, they lived with us. My father, really -- today most men I don't think put up 5 with it. But my mother took care of her parents and her cousin. I mean, they never lived alone as a couple. SPEAKER 1: Ever lived alone? DOTTIE: Nope. Because when they got married she had my grandmother, and then she had my grandfather, and then we got Renaldo, which was her cousin. Excuse me. And then the kids came along. SPEAKER 1: Now, when grandparents live with their daughter or a son, what happens when…? DOTTIE: Well, see I wasn't too young to have known that, but as far as I know it's because of the way my father was. I'm sure he made the decision. When I was -- my grandfather was a very quiet man, my mother's father, so I don't know about the mother, because like I said, I was only two or three when she died, and I don't remember her. She had arthritis; her hands were closed. But my mother said she was a strong lady as far as her personality, because she would stick a broom in her hand, you know, this way, and make sure her bed was made to her satisfaction. And my mother cooked like better than most chefs. SPEAKER 1: Your mother did? DOTTIE: Not even having recipes and stuff, and she would just -- unbelievable. My friends would say, we're going to take you to a restaurant that you're not going to complain about. And I'd say, well, okay. But even today, to this day I go out and I still complain about where we've been and what we've -- you know, the food is not -- like I said, my mother was such a good cook. SPEAKER 1: Give me some examples of what she would cook. DOTTIE: Anything. I mean, we never had -- I mean, I'd come home and her dining room buffet would be covered with all kinds of pastries. I'd go, "Ma, we having company?" And she says, "No, I felt like baking," and she baked, but every night we had some form of pasta, because my father liked a little dish of pasta, or it would be soup or a little dish of spaghetti. But he always had to have his meat and vegetables and salads. We always had a balanced meal, and we didn't even know it because, we'd have the pasta 6 first, and then we'd have meat, and vegetables and we'd have salad last. And we'd have dessert. And that was -- I mean, that's how we ate. I mean, when the holidays came around, I mean, we had a little more, but every -- they would say, do you eat like that all the time? And we'd say, what do you mean? We just took that for granted because that's how my mother cooked. My father didn't like leftovers. So if he had a meeting or something, she would call my friends and say come for supper, and we're having leftovers, and my girlfriend's husband says, Fiona's leftovers are better than most restaurants' first course. So they came. I mean, she'd switch around, right. She'd call Tommy and [unintelligible - 00:11:39] and say come for supper, and my father didn't like beef stew or stuff like that. So if he was going to be away or a meeting or going to go to a convention or something, we would have that when my father wasn't around. So she would do things that. I mean, she pleased my father -- my father came first. If my father -- we would have the store closed at 6:00 so we would have dinner at 6:30. So my father got stuck with a customer, we would not eat until my father came home. So it was -- we had sat down to have dinner every night together. And when I started working at the store and then my father would say, he'd start talking about business and then I'd start clearing the table and my mother would say, "Well, I'm not done." I'd say, "Well, I am," because she would, you know, I would say, "Dad, you know what? You're a great father, but a boss, you leave a lot to be desired." SPEAKER 1: And how did he…? DOTTIE: He laughed. But he was an ace. Oh, you're lucky [unintelligible - 00:12:47]. "What are you, crazy? I can't take a day off." The day off I get is the day I have. I can't take just the day off and tell him I'm going shopping. What are you, crazy? Well, play sick. I live at home. How can I play sick? SPEAKER 1: But you stayed? 7 DOTTIE: Yeah. Stayed there until I got married. So I mean, you do what you do because -- we had a girl working for us, and she would be black and blue because my father would go -- he would start, you know, you didn't do this right, you didn't do that right, and I'd be pitching it because I didn't want to answer him. And so she'd go, "He's your father." I'd go, but he's wrong. I'd be, "Josie, if he's told you this was black and it was white and you would say, 'Yes, Bill, you're right.'" I'd go, "Josie, that's not right." And she'd say, "But he's your father and he's your boss. You've got to say yes," and I'd go, I can't do this. SPEAKER 1: But evidently he liked having you around. DOTTIE: God, yes, because we argued, but we still, you know, he would say, "Well, my daughter will -- she'll pick out the colors for you, and she'll do, you know, whatever," but he was tough. But I loved him dearly. I mean, he was, you know -- my first husband I separated from and I started to date Teddy, and I wasn't really -- your father that you're dating again. You know, I'm in my 30s now, I mean, I'm still -- but you know what they got you over here. SPEAKER 1: [Unintelligible - 00:14:35]? DOTTIE: Yep. So I go and I tell -- I said, "Dad, I'm dating," and he says, "Yes, I know." I mean, who told you? He says nobody. He says your whole personality changed. SPEAKER 1: And he waited for you to say. DOTTIE: Yes. But I, you know, if you think they don't. You think they don't know you but they do. LINSAY: Now, did you move back in with your parents when you got separated? DOTTIE: Yes, I did. But I got separated and I went back home, and then we got together again and we went back to an apartment, and then the second time I just stayed in the apartment. SPEAKER 1: What did your parents think of your getting separated? DOTTIE: Well, they were glad because they didn't really like him. Teddy, they adored. Teddy they adored, because he was wonderful to my parents. He 8 was absolutely -- if he did nothing else for me he was just wonderful to my parents. To me, it was important. I mean, he -- my father called him and said I have to go here. He'd go, "Okay, Bill. When?" and I'll pick you up and whatever. He would do that. And my mother by then was in a nursing home. Before that, he just loved her. So he, you know, would take her out to dinner, and she just loved that, because my father was always busy with other things, and so we'd take her. And she just, you know, she just thought Teddy was -- she'd say, I want to go somewhere that we don't bump into someone he knows, because he was that type of person. If he didn't know someone when we walked into the place, he knew them when we left. That's sure. I actually believe, and the reason it's felt that way is because when -- I think they had a French priest that baptized my mother, and he couldn't -- that was how he felt it. So that's how -- the only other person that has that name is a cousin. SPEAKER 1: And was she named after her? DOTTIE: I think maybe she -- her real name is Virginia. In fact when people refer to her as Virginia… but you knew her as, you know, we always called her [Bunah]. SPEAKER 1: But her first name is Virginia? JENNIEFER: Yes. SPEAKER 1: Okay. DOTTIE: And she was -- her father died before she was born, which was my mother's brother. My mother had two brothers, and the two brothers had large families. Alice comes from -- which there was five and the other was eight. And this last one that was born was the Balderelli, but she never met her father because he died before she was born. The mother was pregnant for him when he died. That's a large family. And my mother's nieces and nephews were all close. They would all stop by and see her -- not every day, but three of the girls were -- I mean, they would come at least once a week to see her. SPEAKER 1: Now, what made them so close?9 DOTTIE: My mother -- one of my mother's niece was getting married and the father didn't approve, so my mother and father did the wedding for them. And for one reason or another, she was -- but even the guys would -- one of the guys worked for my father, and we'd just -- I don't know, I just can't explain it. And my father's family too, we were close, too. I never had any brothers, and my two cousins on my father's side are the brothers that I never had. During the holidays, my father's -- not so much the Balderellis because they were such a large family and they, you know, they but on the holidays, my father's brother and sister, we would always get together on Christmas Eve, and then it got to be too much for my mother, and then one of my cousins took over on Christmas Eve over at his house. And then as we got older, everybody, you know, got their own family. So we started to go to my sister's home. SPEAKER 1: Now, did your mother work? DOTTIE: She worked at the store. UNKNOWN: She also worked at home. DOTTIE: My father never had her on the payroll until later, until the doctor says, you know what, she works as hard as anybody, in fact, when the help saw my mother come, they'd go, oh, my God. She would work as hard as anybody. She cleaned the store. She decorated the store. She did the windows until later on. I mean, she worked as hard, so when she became -- when it came time for her to collect Social Security, they came and interviewed me. I and her. So this little twirp, I said, would you fire your mother? He's such a -- he's so -- he didn't even ask for help if she came into work. I mean, we weren't lying. She worked there as hard as anybody else. SPEAKER 1: But there wasn't any record? DOTTIE: There wasn't any record until later on when he put on her the payroll, but it wasn't really a record type thing. So they said, well, she never -- I says, well she worked harder here than most of us did. SPEAKER 1: So you mentioned the doctor? 10 DOTTIE: Dr. Silva was a close friend of my father's, and he said you should have her on the books because she's there as much as anybody. And so my father said, yeah, you're right. So he put her on his, you know, in [unintelligible - 00:20:43]. SPEAKER 1: So how did you mother feel about that? Was that kind of liberating, or…? DOTTIE: No. She didn't care one way or another. I mean, my father paid for everything. You know, we would just, you know, he would -- my mother'd go uptown and she'd, you know, the [unintelligible - 00:20:58] charges all over. And so she says your father is gonna complain. I says, "Ma, if you spend $5 or $500, he's going to complain. So spend the $500. He's going to complain one way or another." I says, "Ma, he's been saying that since you've been married he's going to shut your account. Did he ever do it? No, he's not going to do it." SPEAKER 1: Before we turn the recorder on, you had mentioned that you're half Italian, half Sicilian. DOTTIE: Yes. SPEAKER 1: So tell me about that. DOTTIE: I mean, I never thought about it. I just said, if anybody asked me what I was, I would say I'm Italian. And so I still say I'm Italian. But people who live in Sicily and other -- see, they figure that's the boot part and we're close to Africa. It was just a big joke. And it still is. But I feel that I'm Italian, and in my heart I know I am. So I say I'm half [Mathogen] and half Sicilian, which I am. And I'm proud of my heritage. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. So if you could think of what attributes are given to the Sicilians? DOTTIE: I don't know. I just think that what I could -- the only thing I could see is because my mother is such a good cook, and that's one thing, and my father was forceful in his -- and that's how I perceive to be a Sicilian. They're kind of, you know, forceful. And the [Mathies] are on the quiet side because my uncles were quiet. Well, I don't remember the one that 11 died early, but my other uncle was just this solemn man and just a sweetheart. I mean, just [unintelligible - 00:22:44]. SPEAKER 1: Was there any good-natured jesting done? DOTTIE: Yes. SPEAKER 1: You know, about being Sicilian in the house. DOTTIE: Oh yes. Oh god, between my Uncle Jeff, you're lucky that my sister married you and you're Sicilian, you're up close to Africa. I mean, just jokingly, you know. But when my uncle was [unintelligible - 00:23:06] took sick, he and my father went on a trip for almost two months. They toured the United States, and my father would say, "Oh my god, if you stopped in this restaurant and your uncle looked at it, he'd say we're not eating here." He said, he'd be starving but if he didn't like the looks of it, he said we'd have to drive another 50 miles. SPEAKER 1: So food was very important? DOTTIE: Yes. SPEAKER 1: To the family? DOTTIE: Yes. My uncle married a French woman, and she cooked as good as my mother. Alice's mother is French. And she was as good a cook as my mother. SPEAKER 1: Tell me about the preparation of the food and the table, you get the impression all of that is very important, the presentation. DOTTIE: Yeah. When I tell you it's -- another thing my mother had a knack to do, if my father came home with five extra people for dinner and didn't call my mother, there was still enough food to serve these people. If he phoned after a meeting with people, my mother would put out a spread, and I'd look at sisters and say, where did she get that? She just had a knack of, you know, putting things together and making it look beautiful. In fact, my husband did all the cooking and I set the table so it looked pretty. SPEAKER 1: But did your mother also set the table each day too? DOTTIE: Well, I guess, us kids did that. But it was -- when we all sat down to dinner together, both sisters got married early so there was -- if I was 12 working she'd say, okay, and I was living in my own apartment, she says, "Well, come for supper before you go home," and I'd say, yeah okay. My sisters say, "Oh, you're lazy. You don't want to cook." I'd go, yep, you're right. So she would make sure that we stopped at least two or three nights, and most of the time if it was someone's birthday, she would have us all for dinner and cook our special, whatever we liked. And it was obvious whoever's birthday it was, and most of the time it was one of the other sisters that was there. So one night we're all there and my father says, whose birthday is it because nobody assisted, and we called everybody. But most of the time, I mean, she'd -- I mean, she could have 10 people at dinner and think nothing of it. SPEAKER 1: So there was always enough to eat? DOTTIE: Oh. If you asked my mother if you wanted her to go shopping at [Filene's] or go to a gourmet grocery store, she'd say I want to go to the gourmet grocery store. I mean, she -- I'm going into Boston in the north end and like to try different -- she says, "Okay, I got to go to the grocery store before you take me home." I said I just got to go in for a loaf of bread and she'd be in there an hour. I'd say, "Ma, Ma, you said a loaf of bread." "Well, I decided I need to get this, this, and this." Mm-hmm. Things that people consider gourmet now. We had polentas growing up. We had risotto growing up. We had baked Alaska pie growing up. I mean, we had lobster [nugood]. We had baked stuffed lobster. We had razor clams. Some people don't even know what razor clams are today. SPEAKER 1: Tell me, how would she make those? I'm familiar with them. DOTTIE: Razor clams. She would just -- what she would do is steam them first, take the, you know, the clams out and then chop them up and make stuffing with it, and then put them back in the shell and put a little bread crumbs and bake them in the oven. I think they were absolutely delicious. I'm telling my husband about razor clams, he says, "I've never hear of razor clams." We're at the [unintelligible - 00:27:18] walk in the beach 13 and I said see, see that, see that clam? That's a razor clam. Of course, I think you had to -- I hadn't seen them in years. SPEAKER 1: I never see them in the stores. I've seen them at the beach. DOTTIE: Yeah. I've never, ever seen them -- I haven't seen them in the stores for years. And another thing is that -- well, she didn't do this because there were certain things that she didn't make. Uncle did. SPEAKER 1: French uncle? DOTTIE: No, my Italian uncle on my father's sister's husband. I think he was from Poland. My middle sister was the finicky eater. I mean, my father would say, "Barbara, have a little wine." "But daddy, I don't like it." "Honey, just try the wine, it'd do you good." So, but my sister and I would, you know, we always had the wine and the champagne. We've had the, you know, he always made sure we had a little just so that when we were older that we were accustomed to drinking and we didn't go out, and you know, and the cabinets would be -- whatever was in the house would be open to all of us. All of us. So now my sister gets married and she lives upstairs from my aunt and uncle, and she called and said, "Oh, Uncle Charlie made me --" we called them "babaluccis" in Italian, and I said, oh yeah. My sister says, "That's nice, thank you. Bye," and hung up. I called and I said, "Uncle Charlie, you like Barbara better than me." He says, no honey—because he had an accent—I like you both the same. I said nope. Oh no, he says, I like you both. I said, well, you make Barbara babaluccis and I didn't get any. The next day I had a pair. SPEAKER 1: What are babaluccis. DOTTIE: They're the snails. They're little snails -- he used to do them in a sauce that was absolutely delicious. And another thing my mother never made was tripe. And I never had it because I didn't like the smell. My grandmother would cook it and it was ugh. It was bad. They bought it and they had to clean it, and it was terrible. So now I used to have to go with Teddy, and we'd go out and they have tripe. I got ugh. So he goes, try it. So I say okay. I tried it. Delicious. Now, my aunt's sister-in-law 14 comes from New Jersey, and she makes a whole batch for my husband, but my mother still never cooked that. That was one thing she never cooked, and baccala. But 99 percent of everything else, she did, so. My favorite was that she used to do this roast pork with the center cut that she used to have, then we cut the bone so that we could have the bone. We would fight for the pork, so she'd make sure that we'd all get a piece of it. But that was my favorite, favorite dish that she did. SPEAKER 1: Now, I know that everyone would sit at the table. Was your father given priority, first serving? DOTTIE: He was given the first serving, but we all had -- the only thing that we didn't have that he had because we didn't like it was liver, because he liked liver occasionally. But he was served first. But whatever he had, we had. And the other thing, I don't think as kids, we didn't like lamb chops, so my mother would make something else for us. But now lamb is my favorite meal now. But you know, like I said whatever my father had, we had. Nothing was taken from us. I mean, he would serve for us. But if he had steak, we had steak. I mean, we'd choose not to have it. That was because didn't want it. But I have a friend that came from a family of nine, and father would have butter and the kids would have margarine, and so we said that if he could have steak and the kids would have something else, and so we had a brother, so this brother says, "When am I going to have this steak and butter?" He says when you start to work, and you know, contribute. They came home and he says, well, here's my money I want steak and butter or whatever, and the father says, oh no, some of it's for your room, some of it's for the clothes, and some of it's for this. You still don't have enough money for steak. SPEAKER 1: Now, who served the food at the table? DOTTIE: My mother never sat down. She did. I should say she was always on the edge. My father -- we always ate in the dining room in Leominster because we'd -- I'd say 90 percent of the time -- we had a large kitchen but my father felt claustrophobic, so 90 percent of the time we ate in the 15 dining room because it was it the stove and this thing was here and the dining room was here. So it was actually closer to the dining room than it was to go across the kitchen to the other part. But my mother served. SPEAKER 1: Now, would your father…? DOTTIE: It didn't matter. No. It didn't matter. SPEAKER 1: You know what I want to do? It's because just that you're… DOTTIE: Sure. I'm sorry. SPEAKER 1: No, right here, because you're… DOTTIE: Oh, I'm sorry. SPEAKER 1: No. It's all right. I'm just afraid it will [unintelligible - 00:33:02]. Okay. Back to your father. Do you have any idea why his parents chose Fitchburg? DOTTIE: They must have had friends here. Not really. No. I don't know why they really, no, I don't -- no, I don't. No, I don't remember hearing why they choose here. SPEAKER 1: And also, but I think the recorder wasn't on; you were talking about an experience… DOTTIE: They just said that it was tough growing up because they originally -- they lived in the patch, which is considered Italian when they were growing up. First it was Irish, and then they moved out and then the Italians moved in, and they moved out. Now I think it's the Puerto Ricans that live mostly in that area. I don't think there's anybody left even down, you know, beyond it, because this is Water Street, and down this way almost every house was Italian. SPEAKER 1: Well, there's Doris… DOTTIE: Oh yeah, she's still there. Yeah, she's still there. I forgot. Yes, she is. She lives down Railroad Street. Yes. Lovely lady. I mean, you see her, she makes you feel she's so happy to see you. She comes and gives you -- so good to see you. SPEAKER 1: She's special. DOTTIE: Yes, she really is. 16 SPEAKER 1: So do you remember any…? DOTTIE: All I can remember is that, you know, I grew up there. I worked there, and so I was, you know, eight years ago. So I was there, you know, all my life, and you see the changes as, you know, you grow up but… SPEAKER 1: So tell me about the changes. DOTTIE: Well, you could walk down the street, and you know, you knew everybody, and it was amazing how many [unintelligible - 00:34:57] that was on that street growing up, and each one of them -- I don't know how they survived, because each one of them had a large family, and there must have been a dozen stores from 5th Street to 1st Street. And they had -- there was [colors] and there was the [Cabones], there was [Ilinestis]. There was another two Cabones. There was a [Casthetes]. There was a Gloria chain, which is -- I still, I don't know if they should have one in Leominster too, but part of the Gloria chain was in where our store is now. It was -- my father's furniture store originally was built as the garage where they would park cars. And when we were across the street, he bought this building, and he converted it into a furniture store. And one time, Coca-Cola had rented the warehouse, and they had 12 trucks on the roof of this building. The building is still standing very, very strong. Some of the parts of the building are fallout shelters. That's how -- 'cause it was built so well. And it is -- it [unintelligible - 00:36:37] Water Street up to Spruce Street up to Hale Street, 'cause when you look at the building in the front, it doesn't appear to be latched. It goes all the way up to Spruce Street and Hale. Spuce Street is the street just before the store. Okay. And Hale Street is the street that runs parallel with Water Street. So that building goes all the way up to Hale Street. SPEAKER 1: And you mentioned that it was a fall out? DOTTIE: Part of it is. SPEAKER 1: Wow. Yeah. And when did that come about? DOTTIE: Well, I think World War II. They came in and they, you know, they check out the buildings and stuff and put up these things. 1953, that's when he 17 converted the garage into the store because, well, right now, if you were to go in there the ceilings don't appear high, but there is six more feet. They dropped the ceiling. Or they dropped it to a, you know, a fall ceiling. But beyond that there's six more feet. SPEAKER 1: I thought you just mentioned -- were those grocery stores? DOTTIE: Yes, they were little groceries, and… SPEAKER 1: Your mother must have been in heaven. DOTTIE: She did -- she [unintelligible - 00:37:49] I said no. I'm going to a different store. Well, this one has this one in her [unintelligible - 00:37:53], and as they stopped, you know, maybe they'll pass away or whatever, they, you know, they spaced up, because there's nothing on there now. There's not a grocery store on Water Street now. Maybe there is, but up for a -- but after they stopped existing -- she bought very, very little meat from the supermarkets. She bought it from Sal's Grocery Store up in -- they would deliver to -- 'cause I've been everywhere in Leominster. They would deliver to the store, then we'd take it. I would say, "I want a pound of this, I want a pound of that. I want two pounds," whatever she wants, she'd give them an order and he'd deliver it. SPEAKER 1: So they still have these grocery stores, they weren't run by the -- they were run from daughters? DOTTIE: Maybe, not really, no. I can just remember just one. It was -- he adopted, but it was not even a son. It was someone that worked for him, but he ran it for a while. And it's actually a parking lot now of this [unintelligible - 00:39:04]. There was a grocery store there in the building up above it. I mean, they had like tenement houses that we needed parking lots, so then my father bought that building and tore it down. SPEAKER 1: Know everyone who lived in the patch more or less. DOTTIE: More or less. In fact, it was about -- I wanna say 12 years ago, they had a patch reunion, and it was wonderful. They had, you know, it was some people you hadn't see in years and wonderful. We should do it again, of 18 course. It's a lot of work, but no one has, you know, taken any initiative and done it again. SPEAKER 1: Did anyone take pictures? DOTTIE: But I do remember, I had this lady, this Mrs. [Impressor], was just a sweetheart of a lady and sometimes she would just come in the store just to fill her -- she was turning 100, and [unintelligible - 00:40:01] called me. She says, "Dottie, how come you haven't sent in your return?" I says, I was hurt, because one of my girlfriends got invited, and I says, I wonder why [unintelligible - 00:40:11] sisters, Dottie? How come you didn't send in the return?" I says, 'cause I didn't get -- that was when, again all Italians were there, so it was, I went to a wedding and hadn't seen people in a lot of years. SPEAKER 1: So do you remember who the organizers were of the class reunion? I may like to talk to them. DOTTIE: I'm going to say Marie Cabone had something to do with it, but that's not her married name, her married name is… SPEAKER 1: We can get it later. DOTTIE: Okay. She may have had something to do with it. I'm not sure. SPEAKER 1: So tell me about the changes in the patch. So when did… DOTTIE: Interesting. You know what? You go to work every day you're going to see some things -- I want to say it started to change -- my aunt was walking down in front of the store, someone knocked her down and stole her bag. I says, I don't this believe this happening. First of all, it's my aunt, and second of all, in front of our store, so that was heartbreaking. SPEAKER 1: When was that about? DOTTIE: I want to say maybe 30 years ago. SPEAKER 1: Wow. DOTTIE: Time goes by so fast, because my aunt's been dead since I want to say '80. Time goes by so fast, maybe it was 25 years ago. At that time they'd leave the doors open, and you know, you never locked your doors or anything. You never thought about it, never thought about having an alarm system.19 SPEAKER 1: Did you ever [unintelligible - 00:41:57]? DOTTIE: No. First of all to let the store, anything [unintelligible - 00:42:04] built a store for furniture must be, and we had it, so we just -- fortunately we had a good clientele, and things were, you know, we were all right as far as, you know, our customers would come in and we'd advertise, so it was fine up until [unintelligible - 00:42:27] and then it just wasn't fun anymore. SPEAKER 1: Did your parents continue living about? DOTTIE: No, no, we moved to Leominster when I was… and we moved to… SPEAKER 1: Why was that done? DOTTIE: Why was that done? Well, my father and mother needed -- they bought the land on I'd say Ellis Street, and at that time my uncle, who was a plasterer and bricklayer, came and said to my father and mother there's a beautiful house in Leominster that's for sale. It's only six months old, and my father and mother went to look at it, and they fell in love with it because it was -- it is a brick Tudor, I want to say an English Tudor. And it was at that time one of the nicest houses in Leominster. So they got it for a good deal so they bought it. SPEAKER 1: Did life change after moving from [unintelligible - 00:43:32] Street? DOTTIE: No, because we still went to church in Fitchburg, I still worked, all my friends were in Fitchburg, I went to school in Fitchburg. In fact, someone said to me later on in life Dottie, how do you like living in Leominster, I said I've lived here most of my life, they said you wouldn't think so. In fact, up until a few years ago, people would ask me where I was from and I would say Fitchburg, and I'd say -- now I'd tell them I'm from Leominster because things have changed you know, it's a different… it's changed immensely. It's not the small community that it was. In fact, up until I worked, because I had property in Fitchburg I voted in Fitchburg up until ten years ago. SPEAKER 1: Ten years ago.20 DOTTIE: I would say. Of course I wasn't active like I was when I was working. I belonged to the Chamber of Commerce; I belonged to the government stations. And when you retire, you get away from that, and it isn't as… see, my father was active in everything, he was active in politics, he was active in the community, he was active in the church, he was active in the Sons of Italy, he was active in politics, so he was very active in the community. In fact he and a couple of his friends were instrumental in him getting elected mayor. SPEAKER 1: So he was instrumental with that. DOTTIE: They were very good friends, yep. In fact he was instrumental in John Volpe becoming governor. SPEAKER 1: Really? Tell me about that. DOTTIE: He and John Volpe became friendly when they belonged to the Sons of Italy on a state level. So John Volpe called my father and said to him, "I am running for governor," and "Can you help?" My father said sure. So he called one of his, campaign manager called my father and he says, "We're coming into Fitchburg on Monday, can you introduce him to -- or can I introduce him to a lot of people in a short period of time?" So he actually closed the store down and had every one of us call our friends, customers that we thought would come, and he had open house at his house. And at that time, well he still, he belonged to the Rotary and he belonged to… I don't know if he belonged to [unintelligible - 00:46:19] we got the book and we just called people up and said… I'm not Republican, they said we don't care, just come, we want faces, a lot of people. So we booked. It was the early part of June so he says we'll have it outside, and at that time there was too many people and it wasn't enough time, so we had to have it catered. 21 So I called the caterer, he had all the summer furniture in the store delivered to the house and was going to have it outside. Well, it poured like you can't believe. We had tons and tons of people still and he called my father a few days later and he says Bill, if I have six friends like you throughout the state I'll be elected, and he was elected. SPEAKER 1: [Unintelligible - 00:47:07]. DOTTIE: No, the only job my father ever got for that was -- and because Joe Adante asked him to take it was to be on the Board of [unintelligible - 00:47:18] and so he took that. The only thing he go from helping so much was people would come in and say can you get me a low number plate, and he would buy the letter, and I got a low number plate. In fact because sometimes you don't think, I got my number plate is 99G, so I got that. But the woman that did it had to do some research because it was the ninth month, the ninth day in [unintelligible - 00:47:54]. And my father had -- in fact my brother-in-law still had, it's 52W, he was 52 years old [unintelligible - 00:48:03] the first time. He had 52W. So now he's running again, and Joe Ward is running against him, and he's from Fitchburg. My father, I says, "Are you crazy? You can't go out and campaign for him," I said, "It's suicide." I said, "You have a business." He said, "I also have the right to choose who I want to vote for." So he called up Joe Ward and he says to him, "Joe, I've known you for a good many years, but you know my affiliation with John. We've been friends for years. I would say that if John wasn't running I would help you campaign." He says, "I can't thank you enough for calling, and I still think you're gentleman." He also was Republican chairman in Fitchburg and Leominster area for a long time. SPEAKER 1: Who was? DOTTIE: My father. SPEAKER 1: Your father? DOTTIE: Yeah.22 SPEAKER 1: How did he get involved in politics? DOTTIE: Well, because [unintelligible - 00:49:15] like Pete Levante was running for mayor. That way, he was active with -- he'd gotten involved with John Volpe, and then he just was campaigning, he was Republican chairman for a long time in Fitchburg and Leominster area. That's how he got involved in it. And he would always take people home to the house and we got involved in it. This is changing the subject because he would say yes to you, if someone asked him something and he couldn't do, well he could do it, but to take someone somewhere he'd say yes that's fine, we'll do it. He'd say, "Dorothy, do this," and I'd get angry and I'd say I can't make a decision on my own, but I always had a -- especially with the nuns, when I was young they didn't drive, they didn't have their own car. So if they had to go somewhere, they would rely on the community of, you know, our parish to take them somewhere. Because we always had two cars, they would call my father and say I have to go such and such a place. "No problem. Dorothy, take them." I'd say, "Why do you do that?" He says, "What do you mean why do I do what?" Make decisions for me. He says "I don't make decisions, you do." But it was fun. One time he called me from Florida and said you have to be in so-and-so's wedding. I says dad, I don't know them. He said that's all right. I knew the family but I didn't really know, you know I didn't know the bride at all. He said that's all right, I do. I said but dad, I'm already in five weddings, I can't afford it. He said that's all right, I'll pay for it. So I'm in this wedding, didn't really -- well, I knew the guy that was with me because it was, you know, I knew the family, but the bride and groom. Marty's father, you know Pete Levante, was because most of them were Italian, he was invited to all of the weddings, but he says Dorothy, I says what, he says, you're doing this for a living. My sisters were quiet and 23 they never worked at the store. I should say my middle sister's quiet, my other sister, we call her Mouth because she has to have last lip Susie, she has to have the last word. SPEAKER 1: And from the church, your father was involved with the church also? DOTTIE: He was, you know he'd collect on Sundays, and also if they needed money they'd come and he'd help collect. When I was young they used to have these carnivals or you know when they have people at merry go rounds with stuff. SPEAKER 1: Like an amusement… DOTTIE: Thank you, yes. And they would run those in summer months, and he became very friendly with the pastor. In fact they would go away for a few -- you know, like to go to Florida. My mother wouldn't go because she had us kids, and so my father would go with the priest. SPEAKER 1: And what was his name? DOTTIE: Father [Campanelli]. He ended up being in Worcester, he was Monsignor Campanelli. And we had Father John Capolano who was at our parish for a long time. So one time I said can I have a new dress, not this week, "Well if Father John came and asked you for money you'd give it to him." He'd say, "Listen here, young lady, anything I gave to the church I always got back tenfold." So he was, you know [unintelligible - 00:53:00] he was involved with that. But I was baptized, communion, confirmation, got married out of there, probably die and be buried out of there. So definitely, definitely. SPEAKER 1: Do you think… DOTTIE: That generation, the men were superior. I have two cousins that my father treated, I mean he was wonderful to us, but he treated these guys like they were his sons. And he was just good to them. In fact one of them worked for him for quite awhile, and he's a multimillionaire now in Leominster. SPEAKER 1: Who's that?24 DOTTIE: Charles Tito. But he started with my father, and his brother worked for -- no, Sam never worked for us, maybe on the summer or something. I was close with them, just thought these guys were the best. SPEAKER 1: Was education? DOTTIE: Yes, but he never had it. But he thought it should be, you know, you should have -- in fact I could have gone longer but I chose not to. Then after, two or three years later I decided, I said I think I want to -- he said well if you want to go back you've got to pay. I said well if the [unintelligible - 00:54:39]. SPEAKER 1: Was it an option for you to work at the store or was it just assumed? DOTTIE: Assumed. Because first of all if I had left, when I left [Deed], I should have gone to work out of town for a few years just to get an idea of how things are run differently. But it was assumed that I would come to the store and stay there. Everything. I said it's a good thing I wasn't a boy because… no, good thing I never learned how to drive the truck, because if I did he would have sent me out on the truck too, because I did everything there. I mean, you didn't say, you know, when you go to a store today they go that's not my department or that's not my job. Those words did not exist with my father. I'll never forget one time he says to me call this person up, they owe us money. I says, okay, "Hello, Mrs. Jones or Mr. [unintelligible - 00:55:49]?" And he says, "You haven't been in for a while," and he hung up. So I said he hung up on me, I mean no one ever did that to me. So he said call him back. He says, "If you don't stop calling me back, I'm going to come down and hit you with a baseball bat." Well, I mean I started to cry. My father said, "Give me that phone." But then after a while you learn how… I mean, if he did that to me now I'd say go ahead, come, I'll have one too. 25 But as a kid, I mean first of all you wouldn't talk to anybody that way, we weren't brought up -- I mean, even to this day you know how you see policemen you get nervous, you were always brought up to respect your elders and authority. But today, you know, even like if you said the teacher said this, you never went home and said the teacher said this because they'd say whatever you did you deserved it. But today… I have a friend that's a teacher. He came in the store and his hands were all scratched. I says, "What happened to you." He says, "I was taking a second grader to the principal and he was scratching me." SPEAKER 1: That would have been unheard of? DOTTIE: You would never, ever. I mean, if the teacher said whatever, you never went home and said the teacher said or did whatever, because they were always right no matter what. SPEAKER 1: Did you ever feel that you were treated differently? DOTTIE: I'll tell you what, because all my friends were Italian. In fact, I told this to Alice just recently. I says I was blessed because there's a big difference between my sister and I, there's like almost eight years difference. I was the first girl born in the family, I was the first child born in my mother and father's close friends. So I was [unintelligible - 00:57:55]. I had grandparents that weren't my grandparents that, you know, my mother and father's friend's parents, I mean they couldn't treat me any better if I was their grandchildren. Back then grandchildren missed out because they passed away before, you know, they had kids. So I had -- everybody was my, you know, I was loved a lot, my uncles, my father's friends, my aunt. Like I said I was the first girl in the family. My aunt had two boys, but I was the only girl. And the others didn't have children until later on, so I came along and my sisters came later. And my father wasn't as busy when I was born. And as my sisters came along, he became more and more active in the community. In fact he was even 26 president -- not president, he was treasurer of the Boy Scouts in Nashoba Valley, and he never had any boys. SPEAKER 1: So it seems as though he… DOTTIE: That's right, he was always, he was president of the Chamber of Commerce a couple of times, he was involved with Rotary. SPEAKER 1: What was that about him? DOTTIE: He liked people. He liked to be active. He liked to be busy. See, that was his hobby more or less because he didn't golf, he didn't do any of those things. So he kept busy and active in politics and whatnot. SPEAKER 1: Did he ever have a talk with you as far as being [unintelligible - 00:59:42]? DOTTIE: Maybe we just kind of -- no, I don't think so. I think he just took it for granted that, you know, it was amazing how far he came, he had a lot of foresight because he took chances where, you know, it was unheard of. Like he bought this building that was like a shell, and he -- the man that built was… bought it to… he built it to park cars and it… and my father turned around and he said, "Well we could put a store there, right?" and he did. SPEAKER 1: Well, how did he get involved in the furniture business? DOTTIE: He started with the oil business, then from the oil business he started -- he went to school to learn how to install burners, you know oil burners, 'cause he was selling the oil then he needed the burners. Then from that there he started to sell appliances, and from appliances he started to -- you know, furniture, you know, little by little, and then he would go to the furniture shows and started the [unintelligible - 01:00:55]. SPEAKER 1: Did he have [unintelligible - 01:00:58]. DOTTIE: No. SPEAKER 1: No. DOTTIE: People would say, "Oh yeah, he had [unintelligible - 01:01:02]." No. One time he went to the bank to borrow money because he didn't have -- he wanted to buy I think a car load of, I don't know, refrigerators or 27 something, and he went to borrow I want to say a thousand dollars. I don't remember the exact amount. And because he was not really established, they said no. And he -- the doctor that was friendly with us, he loaned him the money. SPEAKER 1: What was his name again? DOTTIE: The house. But she was -- I said why don't you use this. Oh I can do it quicker. SPEAKER 1: Yeah, I think sometimes, you know, by the time you rent [unintelligible - 01:01:46] you know. Anyway, we just had to replace the batteries, and now we're back in business. So you said -- you were talking about your father and the furniture business, how the doctor helped him, loaned him money. DOTTIE: Yes, and he paid him back, and then they remained… he was like a brother… they were the closest thing to a brother. I mean, he was Jewish, and -- but they really remained friends until they both passed away. SPEAKER 1: Really? DOTTIE: Yes. He was -- in fact, on Christmas day my father and I would… we would go to visit them, bring a gift to both of them, he and his wife, and we would have coffee or whatever on Christmas. We would do that Christmas morning, or was it before? I can't remember if it was Christmas morning or just before Christmas, because -- I mean, they just were you know… he never ever did, never! He had, you know, basically the same friends that he had all his life. [Unintelligible - 01:03:01] too. Where I have, you know, the same friends as we had since I was a kid, I don't -- you know, you acquire a few on the way, but basically the same people I've been involved with most of my life. Well, of course I never… I never moved out of the area, so… My sister one time said that if I was on welfare, I would still be a millionaire because of my friends. Yes, yes. So like I said feel I've been blessed in 28 that respect. Priest last night says how would I want to be remembered? I want to be remembered that I loved and I was loved. SPEAKER 1: Yes, that's… DOTTIE: Well, if you really want to make money you can make money. But I think friendship is more important than anything, because you can't buy that. 'Cause once the money is gone, the people that you bought are gone. You have money going up and you don't coming down and you have true friends; your friends are going to be there for you. Not really, no, I think that's an individual thing. I don't know, 'cause I -- first of all I think because my mother and father always entertained, I tend to still do that. I don't do it as much because my husband was the one that did the cooking and stuff, so not a lot of, you know, people coming into dinner and… SPEAKER 1: You and me. DOTTIE: I mean we would have brunches like, we'd invite half the, you know, the complex. I mean… SPEAKER 1: Did you live in Maine or was that… DOTTIE: We just had a summer -- I mean, it was the condo that we would go in, in the winter months, but not like going in the summer. We would still just go on the weekends. But I would take Saturday… I'd work Saturday and leave Saturday, and then I would take Monday and Tuesday off instead of taking a -- sometimes I would take a couple of weeks, but towards the end we just would take longer weekends [unintelligible - 01:05:21]. So we had it up until… I sold it -- it's going to be three years. We were together about 25 years but legally married about 12, I guess. Eighty-four, but he was just a -- like I said, like the people that we went last night to the funeral, they said we were just talking about Teddy Christmas time. He was the type that -- like I said, he would holler and scream, but that would be over within two seconds. And I mean, he just 29 [unintelligible - 01:06:00] go get him, give him a cup of coffee, get him a drink, do this. I think so. I'm not so much as business-minded, but personality wise I think he had a lot of my father's traits because they all, they both like people. SPEAKER 1: [Unintelligible - 01:06:20] furniture store? DOTTIE: He was actually a leather [unintelligible - 01:06:25] he managed -- he was bartender and he managed it. It was at that -- right now it's where the weather vane is. It used to be called King's Corner, and he worked there for a good many -- but he looked after when my father passed away and I had to run the store so he would come in to help out, but not really work at it. But he helped out. SPEAKER 1: When did your father pass away? DOTTIE: 1984, the year I got married. SPEAKER 1: Oh. [Unintelligible - 01:06:54] DOTTIE: Yes, yes, yes. SPEAKER 1: What was that like? DOTTIE: That was not as enjoyable, because first of all I loved, I loved to wait on customers, and you know, sew and decorate. That was my forte. Than I had to worry about bills, I had to worry about hiring, I had to worry about firing, I had to worry, had to -- all the responsibilities that go with running a business, and it wasn't as fun. One time Teddy said I stopped doing that because it wasn't fun. I guess it comes to that point when you realize, 'cause I -- you know, sometimes it's "Oh, I hate going to work, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it." But you say that just to [unintelligible - 01:07:41]. Actually I enjoyed working with the customers, and even to this day if I'm out and they said, "Oh, I'm sorry you don't have the store anymore," or, "You know what? I still have the sofa that you sold me 20 years ago." So it's just a store, it was when it was time to close it. So I know what I 30 should have probably done, and I still have the building, which has been up for sale, really, for the last couple of years… of last year, but it's, you know, we should have done it two years ago. SPEAKER 1: So you were involved for so long in this store. How long did you work there about? DOTTIE: I got out at -- let's see I was 18, 19, 20… till I was about 58, so 20 to 58. SPEAKER 1: I imagine your customer base, did it change over time? DOTTIE: Believe it or not, if we started with the grandmother and father, then we got the daughter or the son, and then we got the son's kids, and so we're -- a lot of it was just the same generation. I mean, we got new customers; don't get me wrong. I think the biggest -- at one time we had Devon's, you know, Devon used to have soldiers, okay, so I said it was Fort Devon's. And I had a customer come in and said so and so sent me, and I says -- of course the name didn't hit a bell, and they says, "Oh yeah, they were in Germany." Excuse me? Yeah they said they knew we were coming here, and they said we'll need furniture, and they said to make sure they said you come see us. And we did we got a lot of word of mouth and had one customer that they would come in every week, and I would chat with them and they'd buy a chair or something small. I'd give them -- we always had coffee, we had coffee, so we'd offer my customers coffee. I mean, I would tell the girls or the people that were selling -- when they come in that door you treat them like they are coming into your home and bring me to them. So when a customer -- I would try to cultivate them. And so like this customer buys this enormous house, and now they need it furnished, and so now they also need draperies and… oh, my sister [unintelligible - 01:10:25] just had a flair for decorating. You are going to handle the drapes, you are going to -- we have this company that we 31 dealt with where, you know, on a small basis as far as if you came in and said I want some draperies, I said, "Okay, measure your walls and whatever," and we had a small company that we would deal with. So this was -- and when I tell you, this house, they called it the castle. I mean, it had -- it was unbelievable! Now she did all the draperies, and I sold them every room of furniture except I think they had already bought a dining room set, but everything else I did. Now, at the time -- this is over 20 years ago, thousand dollars, so that was a lot of money, but with the furniture, [unintelligible - 01:11:19] says, "Well, how are they going to pay for this?" I says, "I don't know." I just was going crazy. About two or three days later the lady walks in and she says, "Can we go somewhere?" "Yeah, we can go in my father's office," so she closed the door, and she goes boom-boom-boom, she whipped out $20,000 of cash. I almost had a heart attack. That was my biggest sale. I mean, one person. Did they have a complaint on anything? Nothing, except something I gave them -- the man says, "Oh, the top of the shelf is scratched." I said, "Oh, you didn't pay for that." Oh, okay. It was pebble stone base, and it was going to be [unintelligible - 01:12:07] going to put a statue on it. So I said well, I'm not going to charge you for this because it's got a few scratches on it. So he says everything's okay except, you know, the base of this is scratched. I said, "Well, you didn't pay for that." "Oh, okay. Thank you." SPEAKER 1: So how in the beginning of your involvement, how did customers pay? DOTTIE: How do they pay? On a weekly basis. They would come in, and they would -- I don't even know if we charged them interest. I guess then we started doing what we called a pre-payment plan, which was considered cash in 90 days, but it had to be broken into three payments. 32 And then we had the company that would buy the paper if, you know, rather than carry -- I forget the company we used. I don't know if it was… one of those companies. And then sometimes if it was a good customer that's been doing business they didn't want to go through that, then we would charge them the interest for the year, however long it took. And then we had customers that just paid weekly that came in for years and years and years. That was part of their, I mean, weekly… I had friends that would come in just to have coffee. I mean, they would have the day off, and they'd come in with their -- one friend had a grandmother that was -- she says, "Oh, let's go see Dottie. We'll have a cup of coffee." That like that Mrs. [unintelligible - 01:13:42], she's like, "Oh, let's go see Dottie. We'll have coffee with her." So I miss that part; I miss that closeness with the customers. Like I said, I treated my customers like they were my friends. Just because -- I did it mainly because it was easier to sell them, and then they kept coming back. And like I said, I enjoyed that part of it. Well, the trends went from outer out -- you know, they have the outer margin, and then it went to your country, which stayed in for until I almost closed, and then they had a lot of traditional, which was -- I remember one time a customer came in and said, "That sofa is down the street for $500 less," and I says, "I don't think… /AT/pa/mb/es

Part one of an interview with John Clementi. Topics include: Memories of John's father, Sandro Clementi. His father's work history and how he became an executive in the plastics business. His father's business contacts in Italy. How his father brought new designs to his company and how the company grew. His father owned a pool hall. John's memories of the family trips to Italy they would every summer when he was growing up. What Italy was like around 1960. Speaking Italian in the United States and in Italy. Italian dialects. John's thoughts on discrimination. John's experiences at Leominster High School and at Deerfield. How John went to Boston College Law School. John left litigation work and joined his father at Plastican. How he met his wife. What Latvia, his wife's homeland, is like. How John and his father divide tasks at Plastican. What sort of products the company makes. The ethnic diversity that exists within the company. ; 1 LINDA ROSENLUND:This is Linda [Rosenlund] with the Center for Italian Culture. Today we're with John Clementi, a [Plastican] located on Industrial Road in Leominster. And today is Thursday, December 13, 2001. John is the son of Sandro Clementi and brother of Anna Canlangelo. So, John, um, could you tell about, first of all, your father, your -- you were telling me before I turned the microphone on that he's really… JOHN CLEMENTI: Yeah. Um, he, um… you know, I think that people that know him, that have known him for any given amount of time would, um… what I think, would all agree that he's just a, an extremely talented, um, gifted person, uh, has the ability to, uh, look beyond the present. He, he, he has a remarkable gift for, for being able to predict trends the way that, that the world is heading. He has a wonderful knowledge of, uh, human nature, um, which is [unintelligible - 00:01:14]. And he – and he's just a very talented executive. I think he has, um, he possesses all of the skills that one would think of in terms of being a very, very effective, uh, executive. Um, and, and I, I think he, he's been able to… exhibit those skills in all sorts of different situations and venues. [Unintelligible - 00:01:34] remain a constant, at least in my experience, having worked with him over the course of the last, uh, 25 years or so. LINDA ROSENLUND:Growing up, was, was he the owner of the… JOHN CLEMENTI: Well, um, growing -- no, I think that he… Plastican really wasn't formed until, um, late '60s, early '70s. Uh, I remember my dad in various roles. I remember him as the proprietor of a, um… of a pool hall. Um, and, and going with him on Sunday mornings, uh, to go clean the pool hall up. I remember him, um, as a, um… as a foreman in a plastics factory, um, working at the [unintelligible - 00:02:21]. And, uh, him sort of coming home, um, eating dinner and then go work another job, so, you know. I 2 think I -- my first true recollections of my dad are probably in that capacity. I still remember the blue uniform and the, you know, the grease and the plastic chip. I mean, I was at an age, I think at that time, I was probably maybe four or five years old. And if he did, then I wasn't old enough to understand. I clearly remember is that, you know, he would come home briefly and back. It's still sort of a joke. At the time, the Mickey Mouse Club was the popular children's show. They came on at five o'clock. And if you would ask my father, to this day, Mickey Mouse, he sort of has this negative psychological reaction because it was sort of his signal that it was time to go to work to the other job. And so that's sort of the way I remember my dad coming home and spending with us, you know, a brief amount of time around dinner and then going back out to work another shift. LINDA ROSENLUND:Asking him how it was that he became involved with Plastican, and it's my memory that he was perhaps worked in sales? JOHN CLEMENTI: Yes. I think we need to kind of go back before Plastican. His first involvement with a proprietary company was with Yankee Plastics. And that would have been back, I think, in 1956. And I think that's where the story comes in about the real estate agent and being made aware of this particular company. It would be around the time that I was talking about earlier. He was working in a plastics company anyway. He was working at Star Manufacturing Company as a shift supervisor. And as such, he more or less had to know the ins and outs of operating the plow from -- I mean, even as a child, in those days, he was literally hands-on. He would come home, as I say, covered with grease and plastic dust in his hair and on his clothes and so forth. He knew intimately the details of running a plastics operation. 3 He was also fortunate, you know, I think he would tell you that he was, in that the owner of that company was an Italian himself. And his name was Nick Dimassa, D-I-M-A-S-S-A. And Nick had been in the United States for a long time. He was the kind of person who -- you know, he was a boy, he was a very elegant figure, you know, just sort of the [block] of white hair and always had a [unintelligible – 00:05:25]. He was a successful manufacturer back in those days and my dad worked for him. And my dad often tells me the story that… you know, I think Mr. Dimassa told him, you know, that instead of making money for him, for Mr. Dimassa, that at some point maybe… well, because he was too talented to work for other people. Then the opportunity arose with this company, Yankee Plastics, which was a small action molder or custom molder that manufactured the kinds of things that are really no longer manufactured in the United States anymore. And by that, I mean… LINDA ROSENLUND:Making that no longer made. JOHN CLEMENTI: Right. So… LINDA ROSENLUND:Like what? JOHN CLEMENTI: Like, you know trinkets and giveaway items—small, little things. And basically for other companies, for other people. It wasn't a proprietary line. It was a line of products that were manufactured for the others. And the product line, from what I could tell, at least at that time as a child, you know, seem to have evolved and that the things that he made were bigger. You know, [unintelligible - 00:06:32] larger. And that line seemed to evolve from the kinds of things that we were just talking about into things like pitchers. And the company evolved into a proprietary housewares manufacturer. And I think probably the turning point for that company, for Yankee Platsics, happened to… in the early '60s, that probably had emerged as a leader in 4 design, especially in plastic design. Because I think it's safe to say that plastics is an ersatz material, a substitute for something else—wood or net, or -- in a sort of view it's a surrogate, whereas in Italy, at the time, emerging from the war, plastics was a new material. It was different. It had a higher value to most people. And subsequently, extraordinarily talented designers in Italy were designing plastic housewares, and my dad saw that and realized that very mundane items were being designed to be extraordinarily beautiful, and brought some of those designs to the United States and began to manufacture them on a proprietary basis, and began selling them to companies that were at the time, you know, the equivalent of the big-box retailers that we know of now as K-Mart or Walmart. It would have been a Woolworths or WT Grant. And so he started manufacturing these products for those kinds of companies, and I think that's really where the company began to assume a different… LINDA ROSENLUND:Now, did he hire anyone from [ideas forward]? JOHN CLEMENTI: Well, it was interesting at the time. From around 1960 on, we would spend a good part of our summers in Italy. We would go back to the ancestral town, Corfinio, and the whole family would. And, you know, while we were there, my dad made business contacts in the north of Italy, Turin and Milan, where the plastics business was happening—not only just for Italy but for Europe, in a way. And he made contact with various designers, the most prominent of which was a house called Leonardo, and had some designs done for plastic housewares. And I mean mixer, decanter design, that was just kind of thing where, if you saw it today, it would be just as beautiful today as it was. You know, classic, modern design. And he picked up on that. And, you know, purchased some designs from that house and began to sell them, manufacture the products and sell them. 5 He didn't even know the process but continued, I think is… you know as we continue to maintain a relationship with Italy in terms of going there in the summer, I think he was probably more aware of what was going on in Europe, both by way of Danish and Swedish and Finnish. Right from the very start his proprietary line probably had an edge in terms of quality. I think he was probably… he was a leverage, I think, pretty much to the Hilton those days. But I think that what happened was, once these designs hit, they were just enormously successful. In fact, there was one item, I think if you ask him specifically, there was one item that really was all the [doctoring gamble], which item was sort of a revolutionary item. It was the decanter that now I think we all probably recognize, the one with the measuring lines on the outside and the flip top, little spout on the top, you know, where you take the soft lid and put it on top. And now it's an archaic item, but in those days I think it was a bit revolutionary in that it replaced, you know, the glass pitcher that lemonade would go in, for example. That, I think, was probably the item that provided most of the working capital to go ahead. I would say that was the most significant item. LINDA ROSENLUND:Ask for a design they have an idea of art and then they make contact with? JOHN CLEMENTI: Well, in those days there was a—and there still is, in fact—a national houseware show in Chicago. And I believe that they saw it in Chicago, because my dad would exhibit with everybody else. And I think they saw the item and liked it and tried it on, and it became wildly successful [unintelligible - 00:11:42] a springboard for other items. In fact, I think that was the first, and then the items from Italy that were really high fashion came later. So that, I think that was probably the item that really made the difference. And of course, you could -- the world thinks that 6 came from that. In other words, you had the decanter, now you make the tumblers that go with the decanter, and it sort of becomes a set, and off you go. And there are other sets then, you know, that… pitchers and tumblers, you need bowls, and so you make bowls. And then you need colanders. You know, all of that sort of houseware items that we've come to realize is sort of … you know, the staples of plastic housewares—laundry baskets, lace baskets, all of those things. The line eventually evolved and grew so that it went from things like small tumblers to wastebaskets and trash receptacles, big, 34-gallon trash receptacles. The company evolved, such that from, let's say, from, 1967 it went from a small custom molder to a full-blown housewares manufacturer with a proprietary line. There's a real difference. I mean, custom molder, you're a job shop working for other people. And then as a proprietary line, you are a brand name, and you are manufacturing for yourself. And I think that was a crucial revolution, really, as far as… LINDA ROSENLUND:After more… JOHN CLEMENT: Yeah, I think -- you know, in Leominster, where in those days there were scores of custom molders, custom molders being people who manufactured items for other companies. You know, I think everybody's dream was to have their own proprietary line because you could essentially control you own fate. And my dad was… you know, enough of a visionary to realize that even early on, and thus the importance of coming up with designs that were at the time, at least, you know, innovative and different and would provide an [entrée] in places like Woolworths, for example, that he might not otherwise ever be able to get into given the existence of companies like Rubbermaid at the time. So I think that was a big, a major factor in, you know, being successful going forward. 7 No. Mr. Dimassa was the owner and chief executive of the company called Star Manufacturing, and that's where my dad was a shift foreman, where he learned the art and science of plastics. And he left Star Manufacturing to purchase Yankee Plastics, which was not much more than a garage type operation, very small manufacturing plant with, you know, with not much in terms of sales and not much in terms of machines. But he left Star Manufacturing to buy Yankee Plastics with his life savings and start, you know, in the business as a proprietor. I heard them talk about it. And I heard my dad talk about it and… basically say, I think, with a lot of admiration, that my mother just -- my mother never ever reminded him of what he was doing and what the risks were involved and, you know, the potential downside. Basically, she was there to support him in whatever he felt he needed to do, and that she always basically had faith in what he was doing. She never had much doubt that it was going to be successful. Yes, yes, yes. LINDA ROSENLUND:… while he was at Star Manufacturing? JOHN CLEMENTI: I'm not sure of that, but I'm pretty sure, I'm pretty sure that he was doing both, yes. He was working two jobs at the time. LINDA ROSENLUND:I never really understood… JOHS CLEMENTI: Well, I think it's… again, I hate to speak for him in that regard, but I think it's because it was a [solicit] income that didn't require a tremendous amount of sophistication if terms of the language, in terms of, you know, business relationships, banks, regulatory agencies. You know? It's a pool hall. People put down money and play pool, and that's that. So it's fairly straightforward, easy kind of business to get into. That doesn't mean you're necessarily successful at it, but it's… you know, if I had to guess, I would think that was the reason. 8 LINDA ROSENLUND:Well, I don't want to put words into his mouth or your mouth either, but I can remember, when asking him about social clubs, he said, "Oh, no. I never belonged to a club," but I got the impression that the pool hall was… JOHN CLEMENTI: I don't know. I don't know about that. I think he probably met a lot of people that way that he might not have met otherwise. But I never had any impression from him that it was a social thing. To me, it was strictly, from what I could tell, a business thing. And it wasn't… again, from what I could tell, the clientele there was not… Italian. It wasn't Italian American. It was just at the pool hall in another town and, you know, in the early '50s. And my dad would always say that, you know, was unfortunate, but pool halls always did well when economies didn't do well. Because people were laid off and had time on their hands, you know, what do you do? And, you know, the pool hall is strictly, from what I could tell at least, an economic thing. LINDA ROSENLUND:At the pool hall, when he fought Yankee… JOHN CLEMENTI: I believe he did. You know, I'm pretty sure that he did. In fact, I think that it was before he did that, and it wasn't simultaneous in my recollection. LINDA ROSENLUND:Are there any differences in your whole life… JOHN CLEMENTI: Gee, you know, to tell you the truth, no. My life, my social life was more or less the same as it always was, which is substantially different from the way things are nowadays in a sense that, you know, people visited each other unannounced. You know, people would show, you know, the Italian talking about the Italian, relatives and friends and acquaintances. There was certain informality, you know? It was not unusual maybe a couple nights a week to have people show up at your house for coffee after dinner and talk, or in the summertime to show up and sit up on the porch or whatever. You know, and that continued 9 right on through. So to that extent, nothing really changed. My dad had been working a lot of hours anyway, so he continued to work a lot of hours. And really, our lives… you know, at least for a child, which is what I was, really didn't change. I mean, I think it's fair to say things, you know, things got moved. When I was in the second grade, we moved to another house that was newer and nicer. But substantially, not different from what it was before. So I can't say that life really changed at all at that time. Again, I didn't perceive that anything had changed. The big thing that would've convinced me as a child that we, you know, that we were doing well and that, you know, my dad was a successful person, was, you know, the trips that we would take to Italy in the summertime. Because at a certain point, I realized that not everybody went to Europe every summer. You know, as time went on I realized what a big deal that really was. LINDA ROSENLUND:Were you going to… JOHN CLEMENTI: At the beginning… I can't remember exactly. I don't think she was still living there, but we had -- we just had lots and lots of relatives there. And we have -- the ancestral home was there, and it's still there, the house that my dad grew up in. And at the time, there was sort of a ritual that happens with Italian immigrants from Central Italy and Southern Italy that have kind of gone on this, you know, sort of the… the exodus from Italy, especially in the post-war. They returned in the summertime, usually for the month of August. And it's a little known fact, but there are… tens, if not hundreds of thousands, of Italian immigrants in places like Australia, Argentina, Canada, huge number of Italian immigrants. France, Germany, Luxembourg, Belgium. And these people in the summertime returned to Italy because, among other things, it's vacation in Europe the whole month of August in Italy. No one works. It's a vacation month. 10 And people -- it's kind of a class reunion for everybody. And so, for example, I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that our little town of a 1,000 people becomes a town of maybe 3,000 people in August. And so this became sort of a ritual with our family that we would go back for the month of August and… you know, my dad would basically see the people he grew up with, his classmates, his friends, his relatives. And my mother too, because obviously my mother was brought up there as well. And so, you know, it sort of became, as I said, a ritual, or something that was expected. Of course, in the meantime, my dad was, you know, was also doing business, going to design houses, mold makers and talking to the people in the business in Italy who were sort of making it happen over there. And, you know, would build some tools in Italy, get some ideas et cetera. SPEKAER 1: Do you want me to stop this? JOHN CLEMENTI: Yeah. And as I say, for my dad it was business and pleasure, you know, well… nice for me because it afforded me a chance to see cities like Milan and spend some time in big cities whereas… you know, outside of the usual tourist traps, if you will, and get to visit, you know, some companies, and to see Italy as an economic entity as opposed to a tourist entity. And I have to say it was a significant education to me. Because among other things, it allowed me to keep the language, which, you know, was usually lost at some point. But that became I think a very important part of our lives, because for 10 years, I'd say from 1960 to 1970, I think we went every year. Yeah. And just last year my daughter, who is now a senior at Dartmouth, learned Italian and spent a term in Sienna. And we were able to visit her there and that was just a real joy. I was thrilled that she decided on her own that Italian was the language she wanted to learn. And so that was sort of gratifying. But we, 11 the family has been back to Italy, and… I think they enjoy very much and I think they're proud of that side of the family that it's of Italian heritage. I hope that they, you know, continue on and will… learn more about Italy and become more involved with the culture. But that's something they almost have to do on their own, simply because having married someone who is an Italian, it becomes a little bit more difficult. LINDA ROSENLUND:… recruit some of his friends in Italy that have come to America? JOHN CLEMENTI: No. I think… interesting, going back to Italy in those years… I never perceived an overwhelming desire on anybody's part at that time to come to America. Because I think by then, it was pretty much over. Italy was enjoying an economic boom. People were doing well. There was a migration in Italy. People from the south went to the north to work—places like Turin and Milan—to work for companies like Fiat, you know, Pirelli. You know, big companies. And so, there was very little impetus at that time for anybody to come to the United States. I think that was pretty much over. LINDA ROSENLUND:Now, when you… JOHN CLEMENTI: All the time. And it was, it was sort of a wakeup call, because when we first went to… Italy in 1960, it… it was a lot different from what it is today, in many ways. Our little village was primitive. There were maybe three automobiles. There were only a couple of television sets, and they belonged to fraternal organizations. There was no television before until eight o'clock in the evening. It was just so different from what we as Americans expected in terms of lifestyle. Most of the houses didn't have full indoor plumbing. Animals—horses, oxen—were used for transportation. People worked in the fields largely with their own physical labor. It was a very rudimentary agrarian 12 economy, much like what you would see in a third world country today. It would be unfair to call it a third world country because there were obviously other things going on in the big cities, et cetera. But for a ten-year-old child, it was a real eye opener. It was very exciting in many ways to be able to be stepping back in time. But by the same token, I realized that it was a life that was substantially harder than what I was used to. And the natural result of that was to think, "Boy, if we didn't come to the United States, this is the way we would be living now." LINDA ROSENLUND:… back to the village? JOHN CLEMENTI: Well, extraordinarily well. All of our relatives and friends were happy to see us. I mean, they really couldn't have done more for us. They were very lavish in their hospitality and would just about do anything for you to the point of almost being an embarrassment. And so to that extent it was just wonderful. For me, it was a lot of fun because, as I said before, at that time there was a language gap. I'd learned Italian before I learned English, but then I went to school, and, like most American kids, children of immigrants, you don't want to speak the language in public. And so the Italian, while you could understand it, you were always hesitant to speak it. And so when I got to Italy, if I wanted to communicate, I realized that I got to try to speak it as well. And… they had some fun with me and, you know, my brand, my version of the dialect that's spoken in our little village. But we got along well and we had a lot of fun, and it just sort of drew from there to the point where when I was in high school, going back -- I don't think that it was sort of like, "Oh, he's back again." And, you know, I knew everybody and they all knew me, and it was sort of like going to a summerhouse, like [unintelligible - 00:29:35] or something. It was, it became that kind of thing. 13 LINDA ROSENLUND:… dad must have spoken the dialect as well? JOHN CLEMENTI: Yes. LINDA ROSENLUND:So how did he communicate with the businessmen…? JOHN CLEMENTI: Oh, it's interesting, this whole notion of the dialect. I think you'll find, even in Italy today, that some sort of switch goes on and off when you enter the region or when you enter the village. You speak dialect, but when you're anywhere else you speak Italian. It's a phenomenon that I don't think exists here in the United States, where people speak both pure Italian and dialect. And this is true wherever you go. And I noticed this when we do business, as we still do today, with companies in Italy, especially up north. We communicate in Italian or in English, but I know that the people that I'm dealing with, the principals, they'll communicate with their employees in their dialect, which I absolutely don't understand. And if I communicated with my relatives with them present, they wouldn't understand me either. LINDA ROSENLUND:I thought that was more of a recent… JOHN CLEMENTI: I would think, and I hate to speak for Italians, but I think what they would tell you is that people who -- descendants of peasants, say, for a lack of a better term, when they would go to the big city, would speak relatively poor Italian, simply because they spent all their time speaking dialect. But they would know, they would know what they should be saying. And so as time has evolved and education became such that everybody is literate, everybody in Italy speaks the same language. But when they go home, they speak their dialect. And it's a really interesting phenomenon that I don't think as an American I would ever come close to understanding if I didn't go over there to see it firsthand, how someone could be extremely literate. Well, for example, I have a cousin who has written a book—actually, I think books—about classical history, Julius Cesar et 14 cetera. Extremely literate in Italian, and yet when he walks down to the piazza to talk with the guys, boom. He speaks dialect, and just as quickly can go in and out of that mode. So it's a phenomenon that I think still exists, probably to a lesser extent, because I think young people with mass media, watching television, listening to the radio, the Italian becomes modernized, and it is what it is. LINDA ROSENLUND:… now there find it difficult being [unintelligible - 00:32:44]? JOHN CLEMENTI: It's in central Italy. LINDA ROSENLUND:But did he found it difficult going to the north and being taken on seriously by the businessmen up there? JOHN CLEMENTI: You know, I don't think that occurred because… let's not forget, I mean, in the business world he was American. And it was an American company. And even though he spoke Italian, speaks Italian, knows the culture, you know, I think that's the way he was dealing. I think he was always taken very seriously. However, that doesn't discount the fact that there is a, to this day, a dichotomy between north and south. There is a certain… I don't know how to put it, but there's a definite culture clash between the north and the south of Italy. And the northerners view themselves as much more sophisticated, refined than the southerners. And as the southerners, you know, have a similar view of themselves compared to the northerners. In fact, there was actually a movement in the north of Italy to secede from the country. There were this movement, as recently as four or five years ago, for people from the Po Valley to create a country called Padania and secede from the country of Italy. And it doesn't look like it could be real, but I assure you, very real phenomenon. But that was there, and I think that's still there. But I don't think it ever affected my father's ability to do business there. 15 LINDA ROSENLUND:What about accent? JOHN CLEMENTI: You know, again, I think that America has been remarkably fair and welcoming to my father and people like my father. I've probably been -- you know, my father, and people like him who have accents that become self-conscious about it and so forth, I think my dad would tell you that he's been treated fairly, you know, by banks, local banks, who had faith in him early on. And I don't think he's ever forgotten that. I honestly believe that when it comes to discrimination, I think it's there, but I think that to be fair about it, I don't think it's ever been an impediment to me or to meet people, Italian Americans who have a certain sensibility, a certain sensitivity, you know, that it exists. I mean, you know, there will always be… you know, the untoward comment, the, you know, the references, you know, the mafia references that [unintelligible - 00:36:02] me personally. LINDA ROSENLUND:Not even at… JOHN CLEMENTI: Not even at Deerfield. In fact, particularly not at Deerfield. And that's one of the reasons why I personally love the place so much. Because, you know, I think everybody knows and everybody knew at the time, you know, Deerfield was sort of the quintessential Yankee. But the headmaster at the time, Mr. Boyden, Frank Boyden, who's sort of a giant in secondary education, he treated us all the same, and I never… certainly institutionalized from Deerfield. You would get a wise comment from a kid here or there, you know? I chucked out to the usual ignorance that you would find in a high school. I felt that Deerfield, to me, was crucial in my life. I think it was the single most important… Well, let's see. The ethos at Deerfield then and even now was, work hard, play hard. And a certain discipline at the place. By discipline I don't mean a military style discipline, but there was a 16 lot of work to do. It was hard. It was a real interaction between the faculty and the students. And I often tell people, we were as students probably respected by the faculty far more than we deserved. And the place sort or inculcated a sense of responsibility, a sense of giving back to the community. You know, a sense of [unintelligible - 00:37:50] your affairs in a courtly manner. You know, being mind and being understanding. You know, I don't think that was necessarily happening in high school for me. I think it just took my… just took who I was and sort of took me to another level, sort of challenged me, stretched me. I often feel I could've graduated from Deerfield and not gone to college, I'm not sure how much of a difference… It was mine. I mean, I was just going through my sophomore year. You have to realize, it was 1966, and the world was sort of getting to be a little topsy-turvy. You know, the drug culture had made [unintelligible – 00:38:38] in Leominster. And, you know, it was just a confused age. I was doing well in school, at least in terms of grades, but I didn't feel I was achieving very much. But I was probably doing well in a group of… really doing all that well. I thought I was just going through the motions, to tell you the truth, and I felt this sense of malaise about it that, you know, that hammer is going to fall here sometime. And you know, I don't like the way this… and, you know, I just started researching prep schools. I just thought I need to get out of here, down to Deerfield. There were kids that I'd gone to school with who had left and gone… More than anything, what happened was I went --when I was feeling this malaise, I just decided to go to the library and pull out catalogs, where I can get some catalogs. And, to tell the truth, they were very exciting. You know, [area in Dover], 17 Deerfield, you know, the idea that you could play sports on any level, you could study subjects that weren't necessarily offered in high school, and I think the idea of being away from home. I wasn't afraid of it because I've, you know, gone to Europe. It was kind of all of those things put together. I mean, my parents were a little bit taken aback, "Why do you want to leave? What's this all about?" But, you know, after going through the process, the tours and all of that, I think they kind of said okay, and so off we went. LINDA ROSENLUND:So you apparently knew… JOHN CLEMENTI: Yeah. But at time it was fairly clear that we could afford it. I think I knew that in my mind. After all, as I said before, we've been going to Italy now for, you know, at that time, seven, eight years, six, seven years. And so I didn't doubt that that was the case, so… LINDA ROSENLUND:… get the sense that your family was very successful and perhaps -- so [unintelligible - 00:40:58] the other students. JOHN CLEMENTI: [Unintelligible - 00:41:01] at Leominster High? I mean, I had that sense, you know, occasionally, but it really wasn't an overriding factor. I mean, I was pretty much of a happy camper in a way. I had a lot of friends, I loved sports. I was on teams with people. I never felt different, I never felt singled out, I never felt exceptional. It was really… as I said before, it was more a question of worrying about sliding down the slippery slope, if you will. Because, you know, I knew friends that, you know, one year were afraid to go to a dance and in the next year were dropping acid. So it became a kind of thing where I really felt that I wasn't going to progress hanging around. I thought I needed a change of venue. You know, I mean, the factual answer is yes. But I never -- it was important in a sense that they monitored my grades and spoke to my teachers and made sure 18 that I was doing what I ought to have been doing. But I think as time went on, as I got into high school, I think their ability to influence what was going on became less and less, simply because the issues I think became more and more complex. And, you know, they were dealing with them was less and less, simply because now instead of talking to a teacher, you have to talk to every one of these teachers and you need to have a better knowledge of what was going on. I think another thing that I've realized quite honestly is I think is the reverse of what you were asking. I was a sophomore in high school. I believe there was a switch for my philosophy of tracking students to a philosophy of open classrooms. And I have been attending school with same group of kids more or less since seventh grade. And as a sophomore, all of a sudden I realized I was in classes with kids that I'd never been in classes with before. And I think I came to the realization, and then I looked around and I thought it was me, and I thought, "Oh, I'm no longer in the top group. I'm now in the lesser group." But then I realized there were another two, three kids that I knew were very bright, that I knew were, you know, smart as anybody in the class, if not smarter, that were with me, but that there were classes where all the kids were bright. I don't know if this is true, but I surmised that if your parents were on the ball, if your parents knew what the score was in school, that they knew who the good teachers were. And along with the program, then you would be one of the guinea pigs in the open classroom. And this is sort of getting back to your question, "Why did you go to Deerfield?" I think what really set me off was an English class that I was in, in which… it was pretty clear that the class remain in the [gamut] from the brightest kids in the school to probably the least talented in the college curriculum. And the class 19 became a series of same kids putting up their hands, coming up with the answer, being ridiculed by the kids that didn't have the answer, who felt insecure and [badly]. And then what would happen is you would just realize this wasn't advancing the knowledge of the class. And so I thought: "If this is the way it's going to be, then it may be time for me to…" that was another; that was a pretty important fact that I neglected to mention, but… I felt badly for the teacher. Because what happened was she just started teaching to the mean. It all fell apart, in my opinion. [Laughter] SPEKAER 1: And I'm talking about… during high school. JOHN CLEMENTI: You know, I hate to speak for him, but wouldn't have surprised me if he did. I think he probably did. LINDA ROSENLUND:Did he push you for an education to go to college, or… JOHN CLEMENTI: Oh, I don't think he ever did. I don't think he ever expected me not to go to college. And by that time, having gone to Deerfield, you know, that was a totally different culture. And, you know, everybody was going to go to college. In fact, the game changed when I went to Deerfield. Another big reason why I went to Deerfield is in those days I really wanted to go to an Ivy League college. Go to on Ivy League college? Well, interestingly, my sophomore year in high school I was on the debate team, and we had a pretty good debating team in those days. And we went to [unintelligible - 00:46:37] which were up at Dartmouth and Hanover. And I remember to this day, because it was in February and it was classically Hanover, snowing all day long. But… I just, you know, I want to do it, this is where I want to go. You know, I want to go here. At that point, I think that kind of finalized the decision to leave Leominster, because my ability to get there would be seriously stained. And so, you know, I started applying to these other places, [unintelligible - 00:47:11] whole 20 thing evolved. My parents had interestingly -- it's funny, because I had a discussion with my dad about it. You know, my dad, his recollection is he sent me there. My recollection is I wanted to go there. Because really, we have no relationship to any of those kinds of schools. Back to funny story. When I… about that time, and it was in the winter, was in February, I think, I had applied to all these schools and I was now on my schedule. And my dad was still working, you know, hands-on. And I'll never forget, we had an interview at Phillips Andover Academy. And my dad was still, you know, he picked me up, he was still dressed in his work clothes. We went to Phillips, sitting in the admission's building. You know, there's old piano, old room, books, and a fireplace roaring. And it was really warm, and dad was just exhausted. And he just fell asleep. Officer was critiquing my [laughter]. And so, you know, that was kind of my recollection of that episode, which now I think is really funny and is really kind of -- but now I think about it, it's like, "Sure, he was tired. The guy was working really, really hard. He was exhausted." I mean, I dragged him out of the plant to come to this… I knew what was going on, you know, in those days. Not then, you know, they didn't know. They kind of got it from other people, it's the kind of deal was, you know, Philly, you know, that kind of thing. And I think in Deerfield they kind of started to get the idea, because Deerfield was the soul, it really still is. It's just, you know, [unintelligible - 00:49:12]. And don't forget, it was 1966. You know, [GI dye] shirts, long hair, the whole bit. Boom, Deerfield, you know? Coats and ties, suits, you know? You think they were kind of blown away by that. I think they thought to themselves, "This is the best thing that ever happened." You know? My mother tells me now that it broke her heart when I left. 21 LINDA ROSENLUND:What were parents' weekends like or parents'…? JOHN CLEMENTI: It was… it was fine. You have to realize, going back, in a way. And so, you know, I think that kind of went away. There's a kid growing up and that's why I see these Hispanic people working here a lot, and I really emphasize. I know what it's like. You know, they want the same things we want. We all want the same things. But Deerfield was… my parents, I think they're very proud of Deerfield. They… it's something I wish they had, gone to public schools, but quite frankly, I just… in this day and age I just never felt… I just didn't feel that public schools were living up to -- I went to Bancroft school in Worcester, and then they went to Deerfield. My girls went to Deerfield and my son is at Deer- -- I have a long Deerfield tradition. LINDA ROSENLUND:You keep the tradition? JOHN CLEMENTI: But I can get them to go elsewhere but they keep following me. So [unintelligible - 00:51:06] letters at Dartmouth. I have senior and freshmen, both of whom went to Deerfield. They've had wonderful careers. Now I have a son, Alex is a freshmen at Deerfield, and… yeah, I think when I went it was $3,700 a year. It really is. It's a… LINDA ROSENLUND:Follow up with you a little bit, then you decided to pursue a law degree? JOHN CLEMENTI: Yeah, I went to law school. You know, it's something I wanted to do from when I was in high school, really. And you know, it was… I went to Boston College Law School. But, you know, I had to decide what I wanted to do—did I want to go to a big city and, you know, could I come back here. I'd been interning here for this firm that I eventually joined. And they liked me and I liked them, and so when it came to, you know, the time to figure out what I wanted to do for a living, I'd lived in Boston at that time for three years. And that was great, but I -- there was a 22 chance to, you know, make an impact going back to my hometown and going to a small town all the time. You know, all the time. And, you know, I think it was just… have a guaranteed job in the city and all that stuff. I thought that that's what I wanted to do. So I joined the law firm and… I enjoyed it and had fun. I liked the people a lot and I liked the law a lot. And it was really a joy with people I met in the law. And at the time I was doing mostly litigation. I was mostly in court doing mostly criminal work. And… that was fun. But at a certain point I realized that's not what I really wanted to do for the rest of my life. And just about at the same time I came to that conclusion, this company, Plastican had been formed and had been a going concern for about… seven or eight years. And… we had a plant; you know, in Leominster, about 70,000 square foot plant, and there was potential to get it bigger and to do other things. But my dad, at that point the jobs and so forth became much more specific in a point became this, "Listen, there's a lot to do here. There's a lot of potential here, but I'm at the age where I'm not going to do it. I'm not going to go [unintelligible - 00:53:56] all over the United States to do what we need to do." And so, I thought about it and realized that it was exciting, it was a lot of upside potential, and so I left the law and joined the company, and in sort of a COO, beneath my father. And the first task at hand was to set up some sort of a operation in the west, and so I went out and scouted the west and decided upon Dallas. And we… at the warehouse operation there we built a plant, begin to manufacture product there, and established a plant in Dallas in Texas. That was in 1978. And off we went. And then, a few years later, we realized that we had a plant in the east, a plant in the west, but there was a lot of business in the southeast. Florida 23 was a growing state. Georgia, the Carolinas. We really needed a place, a plant there. And so I, you know, we did the same thing, and I went down to and scouted the Southeast and came upon Macon, Georgia after much research and lots of trips to Georgia. In the meantime we add it on to the plant in Dallas, and since add it on to the plant in Macon. And then three years ago we built, we purchased a plant in Phoenix, Arizona, and so now we have a plant in Arizona. As for the Plastican side, we have four plants, and we're selling people coast to coast, so to speak. LINDA ROSENLUND:Now, you get an experience with the plastic industry? JOHN CLEMENTI: Oh, yeah. You know, in high school was the summer job, you know, was… you know, before it was time to go to Italy, in June, July, we worked in the plant, and so… but it was all about in terms of how it works and what you do. I had experience with that. I was here all the time in the summer, so I knew everybody and I knew everything that was going on. Well, you know, that's interesting. Yes, because I did have a part time job after school working at a local accountant's kind of doing arithmet- that was sort of after school from, like, 2:30 to 5:00. So I guess the answer is yes. I don't know how that happened, but I did have a part-time job, yeah. I think it was just the winter, because I didn't play any sports in the winter. LINDA ROSENLUND:… that you were [soft]? JOHN CLEMENTI: No. To be honest with you, I don't remember. I think I probably wanted the money. You know, in high school you could use a little more money. Yeah, I played baseball. It's the sport I cared about most. And I played football too. And that was another reason actually that I went to Deerfield, because Deerfield had great baseball, got my hand at another level. And so that was another impetus. 24 I think they just assumed that that's what kids do. It's interesting because… my parents never saw me play. You know, my dad was always working and my mother, you know, didn't really care, which was fine with me. And… it's another story. My dad saw me play the last game I ever played on the parents' weekend, right before graduation. And it was interesting, because he… you know, he was sitting in the stands and so forth and so on. And… so, we played the game and that was at that. After the game he said to me, "You know, I was talking to this really nice man in the stands, and he said that he thought you were a pretty good player." "Well, that's nice," I said. He said, "Well, you know, it's interesting. His name was DiMaggio." Well, it wasn't Joe DiMaggio, and I don't know if he was related to him. As it turns out, it was Dom DiMaggio, who played for the Red Sox, played centerfield for the Red Sox, and his son Paul was in my class. And, you know, it was kind of funny that, you know, Dom DiMaggio tells my father that kid's pretty good. Who's that kid? And he says, "That's my kid." And it was the only game he ever saw me play. And to this day, I have this sort of… conflict, you know, when I see, you know, soccer moms and little league parents and so forth. I think myself, all the fun I had playing, my parents weren't there. And I'm thinking, "You know, maybe I had a lot of fun because they weren't there." And I didn't have to do anything for anybody, you know? You know, I played, and whatever would happen, happened. And inevitably I had fun, and that was at the end of it. You know, I didn't have any dad telling me what I should have done or mom screaming at me for doing something or -- you know, it was kind of -- I left it there. So when I talk to parents now about that whole thing, you know, who feel compelled to see every single game, the every single practice. And I personally don't feel that way; I just don't 25 feel that way. I go to watch my kid play football, but, you know, if I don't go I don't feel it as a big deal. I don't have to do it. You know, that's another story. And so, the Dom DiMaggio thing was really, was a fun thing, to this day. LINDA ROSENLUND:Did you ever feel like you could go beyond? JOHN CLEMENTI: As I got older I realized how far I was away from going on. At Deerfield I played with guys that went to the major leagues. And, you know, I realized what the difference is. There's a difference, you know? [Laughter] LINDA ROSENLUND:… like who? Who played in the major league? JOHN CLEMENTI: Well, there's a guy who's now the coach at Brandeis, a guy named Pete Varney who's a footnote in history because he was the fellow that caught the famous pass in the Harvard-Yale game, 29-29 tie with the… the headline in the school paper was: "Harvard defeats Yale: 29-29." They scored I think, 26 points in, like, three minutes to tie the game, and he caught the extra point that tied the game with no time left on the clock. So Pete Varney was a footnote in history. But he played for the Chicago Red Sox and, you know, he's a big, strapping guy that could really hit. And the, [Ralph Teiner], the announcer of the [unintelligible – 01:00:45] for the Giants was at Deerfield. You know, just the slew of kids. A kid named Willie Roberts who played for the Houston Oilers and footballer Gary Bonner who said, "All the Russian records are…" you know, you can tell. I mean, there's a difference. I wasn't a very good athlete. I was a good player because I really liked the game and I knew how to play it, but I didn't have the ability to become [laughter]. I wish I did, but I didn't. LINDA ROSENLUND:And getting back, we talked about this just a little bit before I turned the recorder on.26 JOHN CLEMENTI: Oh, well. I mean, I ask the same question you were asking me. Because their kids, you know, they were… people from our village, from Corfinio, that are living here in Leominster who gave their children Italian names—Sandro, Pulino, Vega, Rosana—I mean, real Italian names, which are lovely and I love -- you know, I love them. And I said, "You know what's this, John? Why not Giovanni?" And dad and mother both said, "No! We named you John on purpose so you wouldn't get stuck with one of those names." Kind of interesting that they were thinking that way. To me it was kind of surprising that they were thinking that, because, you know, I think about it now, my dad was 22 and my mom was 21. It took a little bit of thinking, you know? No, I was born… LINDA ROSENLUND:But coming in, I thought you were born in Italy. JOHN CLEMENTI: Well, that's kind of interesting the way life works too, because she is very similar to me in the sense that her parents immigrated at just about the same time. And they were born in Latvia and were displaced people because they were invaded by the Russians, and then by the Germans. And they were taken to war camps in Germany. And her parents met in the war camp in Germany. All of these people who were displaced people were given the option of returning to their homeland or [remain there]. And because Latvia had been occupied by the Soviet Union, by the Russians, the word had gotten out as to what life was like on the other side. They decided not to go back to Latvia, and I guess were able to immigrate to the United States through the auspices of a church group, essentially as refugees, but even more so. So my wife was born in Germany. They didn't emigrate until… they immigrated though. It's interesting, you know, marrying a Mediterranean, marrying a [unintelligible - 01:03:52], 27 essentially in Nordic culture. But I think the common bind, you know, bound, being bound together by the immigrant thing, we understand a lot of the same things. You know, the bit about all of that stuff. All of the things, the feeling awkward, the sharing understanding of those things. Grew up in New Jersey. And it's really funny, you know, I've… her dad was a very successful contractor. And… she and her siblings all went to private schools. She went to private school. It was sort of like the same thing. The same thing happened, you know. You think you're unique and you realize you're far from it. LINDA ROSENLUND:How did you meet her? JOHN CLEMENTI: Blind date. Blind date. It was the Feast of St. Anthony in the North End. And law school at the time and a friend of mine who was living in Boston who said, "J, you know, my girlfriend has a friend, you know, up from New Jersey," and, you know, "would you like to go out with her?" "Sure, why not?" In those days, and I guess still today, every week in the summer there's some feast or another, and I go up there. It was a bit of a happening, and so… we had a blind date, and that was that. LINDA ROSENLUND:[Unintelligible – 01:05:29] JOHN CLEMENTI: Yes, it's really… I think back now, and it really is. Because you know, immigration, from Western Europe was over for the most part, by then. You know, there were very few immigrants that came to this country, you know, much after, 1948, '49. I meant, from Western Europe. I mean, they came from other places, from South America and Asia, Africa, but not many from Western Europe. So, it was -- yeah, it was… I think so. Yeah, definitely. You know, I guess, of the heart, it doesn't work that way. [Laughter] LINDA ROSENLUND:And a different religion. 28 JOHN CLEMENTI: Yes, she's a Lutheran. Yeah, I think it… my parents were remarkably disciplined in bearing, in that regard. And so were hers. They were both smart enough to know that, you know, if this has been what's… you know, go along and let's respect the choices and… you know. You know, it's been fine. It's really interesting. They feel both. As I say, my oldest one speaks Italian. My middle one really looks Italian. And my little guy, you know, I think he's at that age where, you know, he doesn't really feel -- but, we went to Latvia last summer, visited Latvia for a week. And it was great because I wanted to go, I wanted to see one of these former Soviet countries and see what life is like there. But it was good for them to see where their grandparents came from and, you know, to really get -- when I say, you know, they've been to both places and I think it's fair to say they feel a real affinity for both places. It really was… the impression you come away with is that it's a country that's really trying hard. Very interesting. You see construction cranes everywhere in the capital city, which is Riga. And very interesting phenomenon there. The country is divided in half ethnically. Half of them are ethnic Russians and half of them are ethnic Latvians. Who are, the Latvians are basically Teutonic in what they are, you know? They're very Germanic. And the Russians are Russian. And there's a real split there. And there's a great deal of resentment left over from the Soviet occupation. And there's resentment both ways. And the leadership of the country is very interesting, because when the country was liberated, children of immigrants -- and immigrants could come back as citizens. And so the prime minister of Latvia is a Canadian woman. And all of the signs in Latvia are written in three languages: Latvian first, English second, and Russians are not too thrilled about that. But the Latvians understand that, 29 you know, English is the -- it's really interesting. I mean, it's just, watching the country develop. You know, the average income there is, like, $250 a month, you know? They email some in Latvia. They're fully aware of everything that's going on in our culture, movies, CNN. Kind of, like… community is in sort of a weak fog, everything that's happened in the last 20 years up an away, and kind of bringing the country into the modern period without having to go through all the baggage of what has gone before. So, it's a real eye opener because all of the vestiges of Soviet domination are still there. I mean, these horribly snotty apartment buildings that are so depressing. You know, it's depressing architecture. And on the other side, avant-garde, hard music. It's a country that is leaping, you know, just jumping right out of the '40s into the, you know, the 2000s without anything in between. And it's happening. LINDA ROSENLUND:Are you hoping to do business…? JOHN CLEMENTI: Honestly, we don't export much of our products, so I never really thought -- on a personal level, no. I think it's just the… it's interesting. You fly through Frankfurt, boom. You know? Connect to Riga. Yeah, it's only an hour. Then from Riga we went to Stockholm, Sweden, which is only an hour. And there's a flight to Estonia. LINDA ROSENLUND:From Stockholm? JOHN CLEMENTI: Mm-hmm. Probably. We were in Stockholm this summer ourselves, we were in June, been there in June. LINDA ROSENLUND:Is there actually, by Stockholm, it was the… JOHN CLEMENTI: Yes, I was surprised. I don't know why I was surprised, but Stockholm just impressed me massively. It's a really beautiful, beautiful city, very impressive. You know, they have that magnificent park across the bridge, really impressive to me. LINDA ROSENLUND:… all of a sudden they've been able to…30 JOHN CLEMENTI: Infiltrate [laughter]. You know, that's a funny kind of situation. By the time that I became a member of the club, I think there was no longer any need to infiltrate. I think that that had changed completely. I remember a very dear friend of mine who was a member at the time—I was a lot younger—asking me if I wanted to be a member. Really hadn't given it much thought, and I said no. And since I've spoken to Jewish people, it was a real thing there. You know, there was, there were clear notions of the time when a Jewish person couldn't be a member. And I think some of those people sort of said, "Well, you know, that was then. This is now." So, you know, to me, I kind of view it as a… doesn't have nearly as social significance it might have had 20 years ago, or 25 years ago, when it really [unintelligible - 01:12:13]. It's no longer relevant to me. I don't think it's any longer a symbol of anything. I don't think so. LINDA ROSENLUND:No? JOHN CLEMENTI: No, I really don't. No. I think those days are long gone, honestly. You know, they may exist somewhere, you know? In the South, or you know, New York. Maybe it's important what club do you belong, but I don't think it's important at all. SPEKAER 1: … product these days at Plastican? JOHN CLEMENTI: Five-gallon bucket is and always has been the most important product. It's the workhorse of the rigid packaging industry. You know, we package everything from swimming pool chlorine, driveway sealer, paint, driveway, drywall compound, detergents, industrial chemicals, you name it. And back then it's five-gallon buckets. So it's a staple item. Lots of them, but that's the good news. The bad news is there are lots of us doing it, and so it's a very competitive business. You know, technology has always been an important part of what we do, and so…we try to keep on the cutting edge in terms 31 of technology. And only can make them quickly but also to make them well, so that the quality of the product is consistent over time. Packaging products get transported vast distances, and so it's important that the seal is really good and that the product is real good. We purchase recycled resins, and so we manufacture product out of recycled plastic, reclaim containers from customers that want us to so that we can assist in closing the circle. We have a very interesting product, which is the curbside recycling bin, the blue boxes you see on the side of the road. We manufacture those as well, and we manufacture those for the state of Massachusetts. And what we do there is we use recycled resin to manufacture the recycling bins, and so it's kind of -- well, I don't know. The way we kind of divided the tasks in the end, I basically run the day-to-day operations. I'm [unintelligible - 01:14:42] marketing personnel, human resources, purchasing, for the most part, the day-to-day operations of things. My dad, on the other hand, is concerned with things like capital purchases, big machines, molds. And he purchases raw material, resins. You know, the raw material. That's kind of the way we divide things. So, you know, the day-in-day-out headaches are mine. And [unintelligible - 01:15:19] aspect is his. That way, you know, we're constantly talking, so it's… we're always engaged in a dialogue about how we should do this how we should do that. And when one of us is on vacation or away, obviously the other takes up the slack. You know, I think it will continue to be more competitive going forward, you know? With globalization and consolidation, there are fewer and fewer companies to sell to. And this is an issue, that more and more purchasing power. And so the only alternative is to become more and more competitive. So… you know, I will be focusing our efforts on ways in which 32 we can make the company more competitive and more user-friendly to the buyers. One of the things about consolidation is with the added mass these companies are adding, what they do is they expect their vendors to provide more and more by way of service. Whereas you might have had good quality and good price, I think going forward that might not be enough. We have some products for the swimming pool industry in particular that are really innovative. "How I get these darn things off?" And with consumers [unintelligible - 01:16:50] is that you have to make sure that they don't come off. And so if you run into a conflict -- but we think we designed some products that make it easier to take the lid off and put it back on while making sure that nothing leaks in the meantime. So that's where -- I think that's the most exciting item that we're introducing. For those who have a one-gallon paint can, that has revolutionized things as well. LINDA ROSENLUND:Packaging? I mean, do you do everything on…? JOHN CLEMENTI: R&D? Marketing, mostly. So yeah, I will do that here. So this is our latest baby. LINDA ROSENLUND:Is that on the market yet? JOHN CLEMENTI: No. Not yet. LINDA ROSENLUND:… revolution. I think the other… JOHN CLEMENTI: Maybe. [Laughter] LINDA ROSENLUND:Well, you never know… JOHN CLEMENTI: You never know. SPEKAER 1: Is security an issue here? JOHN CLEMENTI: In terms of intellectual property? Yeah, it's an issue everywhere. So far so good, though. I mean, our products have been patented. We spend a lot of time and effort. I think we're pretty secure, but who knows? Here, I think in Plastican we have about 300. I think companywide we -- I think we have a very good 33 track record. I mean, I'd bet that fact that four employees that are going to be celebrating 30 years with us in a couple of months. We have very little turnover management, almost none. As far as our shift employees are concerned, the day shifts are very stable. It's really the -- it goes with the nature of the beast. When you're running 24 hours a day, there are some people that would only work 11 to 7 and 11. And there are other people that would never do it. The toughest shift tends to be 3 to 11, because it's kind of in the middle of the day and… that shift. But other than that, we're pretty fortunate with turnover here. Yeah, I think it's safe to say that we're no different from any other manufacturers in the Commonwealth. We have a lot of people of Hispanic -- I think we have a cross section of the people who live here. LINDA ROSENLUND:Can you mention that again? JOHN CLEMENTI: Yeah. Well, we have a lot of Hispanic employees. I'd say it's probably the major ethnic group that we have. And we also have a lot of Asians—Koreans, Vietnamese, Hmong. And so it's pretty much the reflection of the people that live in our area. I would hope so. I'd like to think that we've give people opportunities to advance themselves, you know, professionally, economically. I too provide opportunities to people. As I said before, we've been fortunate in that our recruitment and retention, we've just been very successful people come here. But I think everybody wants to leave a legacy of fairness and opportunity, and I hope to do the same./AT/lj/es

Part one of an interview with Arthur DiGeronimo. Topics include: Arthur's family history and how his father came to the United States. Arthur's early life growing up in Fitchburg and Leominster, MA. Memories of visiting his grandparents in East Boston. His father's military service and work history. Arthur visited his father's birthplace, Lacedonia, in Italy. His childhood memories of visiting Lake Samosa, working for his father's market, and going to school in Fitchburg. Arthur's family life in general growing up. The importance of education. Arthur attended Becker College. His time in the service during World War II. What it means to be an Italian American. The traditions his family has carried on. Arthur's thoughts on the difference between his generation and his parent's. How his sons joined the family supermarket business. How life will be different for the later generations of his family. ; 1 LINDA ROSENLUND: This is Linda Rosenlund with the Center for Italian Culture. It's Thursday, September 27 at 2:35, and we're here with Arthur DiGeronimo and Anne [Rosevero]. And I'm Linda Rosenlund, like I said. So Arthur, thank you for making time for us. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Well, it's nice of you to come, after a little telephone tag [laughter]. LINDA ROSENLUND: Right, that's what happens with busy people. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yes. LINDA ROSENLUND: So can you tell me your full name and when you were born? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Sure. Arthur Paul DiGeronimo. I was born right here in Leominster. We're at the office at my executive offices for my business, supermarket business. And funny thing, right across the street was where I was born, by the North Main Street. This is 75 North Main Street. I was born right across the street from here. That was in nineteen -- not sure it's 1926. LINDA ROSENLUND: Wow. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: A couple of years ago. [Laughter] And you want something about my family, probably? LINDA ROSENLUND: Sure. First tell us your parent's names. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Sure. My mother's name was Mildred, and my father's name was James. LINDA ROSENLUND: Okay. Now, did they come to -- they came to this country, didn't they? You can shut that all the way. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: My mother was born in Fitchburg, and my father was born in Italy, in Lacedonia, Italy. My father… came to this country when he was nine years old. LINDA ROSENLUND: Okay. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: With his father and two of his brothers. 2 LINDA ROSENLUND: Now, what region is Lacedonia in? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Lacedonia is… it's in Naples. It's Avellino, but they call us… Napolitans, which is from Naples County. Even though it was a quite few miles from… Naples. It was about, Avellino was about maybe 50 miles, and Lacedonia is another 30 miles going out toward the other coast. ANNA ROSEVERO: [Adriatic]. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Right. LINDA ROSENLUND: So, you said that your mother was born here? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: My mother was born in Fitchburg, right at -- they call it the Patch, on Water Street in Fitchburg, which I was very proud of even though I don't know where they got that name from, but that's that. And there was strictly more Italians there than anywhere. Mostly Italians lived on that Water Street section of Fitchburg. And then I went to school in… well, that's right. I was born in Leominster, we moved to Fitchburg in the first grade. And so I went to Fitchburg School until my sophomore year, and then we moved to Leominster right on North Main Street, right near here, too. And… 124 North Main Street, to be exact, and we're 75 North Main Street at the office here. And I finished my junior and senior year in Leominster High School. LINDA ROSENLUND: Okay. So when did you move back to Fitchburg? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: We moved when I was six years old. LINDA ROSENLUND: Six. Now, did you move back to the Patch? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: No, no, we moved from the south side of Fitchburg, which was called [the South Pole]. Yeah, it was on Mountain Avenue in Fitchburg, which is off of South Street. LINDA ROSENLUND: Okay. So, can you tell me a little bit about the Patch? Anything that you remember?3 ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: No, other than… I mean, I never lived there, but I can tell you too much about all the years when they used to have markets. They used to have [Gloria chain] markets and DiMinno's market, who was a cousin of ours, the DiMinno family. The DiMinno family's mother and my father were brother and sister, so those are my first cousins. LINDA ROSENLUND: So your mother grew up on Market Street? I mean, the Patch? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Water Street. Water Street. Yes, yes. LINDA ROSENLUND: So did you know your mother's parents? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Oh, very well, yes. Yeah. They were Spadafora. They had a street tenement block, and downstairs was a drug store by the name of [Darmin] Drug Store if I remember correctly. My memory isn't as good as it used to be. And… my grandmother and grandfather lived on the second floor, and my aunt and uncle on the third floor. LINDA ROSENLUND: And what were your grandparents' names? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: My grandparents' was Spadafora, Michael and… Marianne. LINDA ROSENLUND: So can you tell me a little bit about visits with them? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Oh, yes. A lot of visits. But they did move to Boston, to my mother's sister. She went to live in Boston with my mother's sister's family. And that was in East Boston, you know, on Bennington Street in the East Boston. LINDA ROSENLUND: How old were you at that time? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: I don't recall that. I would think it would be early in life, maybe even… no. If it comes to me, I'll let you know about how old I was. At this point I can't… and I remember going to Boston to visit quite a bit, Sundays with my father, his only day off from the market. He started the business, my father and uncle started the business, and I 4 remember as a child him driving my family to Boston to visit with my aunt and uncle and my grandmother and grandfather. We got to know cousins who were involved. And my aunt had five daughters. She didn't have any sons. So, when I went down for a visit, they treated me like a brother, you know? I'm talking about the cousins, the girls. They were about my age, and they loved to see us come, my brother and I. I didn't mention my brother Michael. I had a brother, Michael, who was killed in World War Two in the Yankee division during the Battle of the Bulge. It's skipping all around, but this is the way it's coming to me, you know? LINDA ROSENLUND: Oh, that's all right. That's how it happened. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: My aunt's name? Aunt Jeanette. LINDA ROSENLUND: Jeanette? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: My aunt Jeanette and my uncle was uncle Peter. [Foralla], their last name was [Foralla]. LINDA ROSENLUND: Okay. Okay. So basically, you remember visiting your grandparents… ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Oh, quite often. LINDA ROSENLUND: … in East Boston, but not really Fitchburg? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: In Fitchburg… well, you know, I don't recall. Yes, yes, because I remember when my grandfather died, I was old enough… to see my grandfather when he passed away. So… so, yes. I recall, I recall going to Boston as I got older, you know? Like, I'm talking about the years, maybe, when I -- my teen, my teen years, we used to go to Boston. And Fitchburg, my grandmother and grandfather were… I was a lot younger then. LINDA ROSENLUND: So what were dinners like? 5 ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: We used to love to go to for dinner. Actually, Italian food, the pasta, the meatballs, slashes in the pork, yeah. Fond memories are there. I can always remember the good eating times [laughter]. LINDA ROSENLUND: So tell me what a Sunday was like when you would go visit. Did you go to church, or…? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Well, no, we'd go to church here. We'd leave after church and drive down -- fond memories of [unintelligible - 00:09:17] we couldn't make it in an hour, it took a little longer. But our mother, what fascinated me the most was going through the tunnel. It's not the Callahan, the [unintelligible - 00:09:32] Tunnel, yeah. [Unintelligible - 00:09:34] We got to go through a tunnel, you go underwater, you know, and you're just a little, you're not too old, and it was thrilling to do it, you know? And we'd always, I'd always kid my mother, I'd say, "Gee, can we move to Boston?" because it was fascinating, you know? It was so much different than being in the small, small town, you know? But we had some nice times there. My uncle, which is my mother's brother, Uncle Tony, he was a druggist. And on the first floor tenement home in East Boston, he had a drug store on the bottom floor. But what a great guy he was also. All my uncles were, but… I can remember fond memories of him. We would raid his drug store when we were at the… because they lived on the second floor, my grandmother and grandfather and uncle, and business was on the first floor. And my uncle Tony and his wife lived there also. And he would open up that, he would -- we could go downstairs five times a day and have ice cream. He used to make ice cream, sodas and we used to raid the place and he never complained once. We'd 6 come in, he'd leave his customers to come and take care for us, you know? Because we didn't go every week, you know? Maybe once a month or twice a month, something like that, you know? So, it wasn't that we went a lot of times. But fond memories of eating ice cream cones and… I'll never get vanilla ice cream sodas; I used to have three or four before we'd leave come back Sunday. And he loved doing that. And my grandfather, God love him, he was a very quiet man. But he was, if you got to know him, he was very, very witty. You know, I can remember him doing little dances for us. And before we left, every one of us kids got a half a dollar. In them days, you know, that's like, probably like a donut, you know? We enjoyed them. And I have a son, Michael, that I named Michael, who's -- I think you know Michael too. He's very like my grandfather on my mother's side—very quiet, and yet he has the same characteristics as my grandfather. Very, very similar. I mean, he is today too. It's funny that I named him Michael, you know? And I named him Michael because of my brother, who was killed in the service, and my grandfather. And my grandfather on my father's side. I mean, my -- yeah. My grandfather on my… LINDA ROSENLUND: Your great-grandfather or you grandfather? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: My grandfather, his name was Michelangelo. So a lot of Michaels in the DiGeronimos. LINDA ROSENLUND: Interesting. Now, those sodas that you were talking about and the ice cream, was there any place like that in Fitchburg or in Leominster that you used to go to? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Oh, yeah. Downstairs at [Dormin's], and I don't really recall that going into drug stores when I was too young. 7 But, you know, the general ice cream cone has taken us to places around town for ice cream cones and things like that. Yes. LINDA ROSENLUND: So tell me about your father. How old was he when he came here? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: My father was nine years old. Yeah. And he entered the service in nineteen… when the war broke out, the World War One, now. Okay. He went, he was drafted, went in the service, he served. Then when he got out, he went to work in a foundry, and he didn't like to work there because for health reasons, you know, the breathing and everything, working in the foundry. And that's when he went to business with his brother who, Michael, who was killed, who was wounded in the World War One. And the two of them started with a supermarket in 1923. Not supermarket, I'm sorry, market. [Laughter] You'd thought it was big. Oh, about twice the size of this office! [Laughter] And that's what they started on Mechanic Street in Leominster. LINDA ROSENLUND: Okay. Now, about your father, who did he come here with? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: He came here with two of his brothers, and his father brought them over. My grandfather was married three times. And it wasn't because he divorced or anything, but his first wife died very, very young, and his second wife was my grandmother. And I never knew her. She died of a -- I don't think, she was just close to 40 years old. She died very young also. But she had a lot of children, many. I would think about a lot of them, probably, with the [unintelligible - 00:15:21] then after she died, he went to Italy and he married, he brought back another Italian lady that was to be my… step grandmother. And she had one, 8 which would be -- you probably know… my uncle Tony DiGeronimo, whose son is a priest, Michael DiGeronimo. So they're related, you know, they're half. He was a half-brother to my father. LINDA ROSENLUND: Why did your father decided to come to Fitchburg? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Well, no. No, we were in Leominster first. We moved -- yeah, we moved to Fitchburg. I'm sorry, yeah. LINDA ROSENLUND: Okay, so… ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: We moved to Fitchburg when I was six, so I lived here until I was six years old. LINDA ROSENLUND: Okay. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: And then we moved to Fitchburg and then we moved back my junior year, my sophomore year. LINDA ROSENLUND: So, why Leominster then? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Well, the business is in Leominster. We all -- why did we go to Fitchburg? LINDA ROSENLUND: No, I'm sorry. [Laughter] ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: That's right. LINDA ROSENLUND: Why did your grandfather choose Leominster to settle? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: I don't know if I can give you an answer to that, really. Just coming into this country, yeah, I think it had something -- it must have something to do with building of the railroads, I think. Something -- I really, I would have to ask. Maybe my sister would probably know. LINDA ROSENLUND: Okay. I was just wondering if there were any family stories of why Leominster was chosen. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: I don't know. I really… I'd have to think about that one. LINDA ROSENLUND: Now, was your grandfather a laborer in Italy? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yes. Not a laborer, no. He was like a sheriff. He was in charge of a jail. He didn't own it. I mean, he just worked as the principal in the jail that they had in Lacedonia.9 LINDA ROSENLUND: Now, that's a new one. I haven't heard that yet [laughter]. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yeah. That's the truth too. And I guess he left just to get to better things in America, like a lot of the Italians who came here. But he came earlier, that was in his first trip over. He came earlier then went back and got two of his sons and daughters and brought them back. Yeah. LINDA ROSENLUND: Have you been back to the village? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: I certainly have. LINDA ROSENLUND: Tell me about that. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yeah. A few years back my wife and I and my sister and her husband, Mike [DeBitteto], the four of us went to Italy for 17 days. Just a few years back, not a lot, a lot of years, maybe seven or eight years ago. And naturally, we had to go to… you know, when you're in Rome and then you go to Naples and you go to Capri and Positano, Amalfi Drive and the things like that. And then, oh it's time to go find Lacedonia. Well, what a job finding that! I mean, well, it's near Avellino, that's the thing. So, we got our directions and we took a ride through the [Malfi Drive], and… oh, humorous story. We rented a limo for the day with the driver, and I don't want to drive out there not knowing where I was going. And I asked him, I says… he says, "Where are you going?" We said, "We're going to Avellino. I want to go find out where my father was born, and that's in Lacedonia." And he says, "Yeah? This is Lacedonia. You never heard of it?" Now, here's a kind of a guy who should know his way around Italy, right? So, he says, "It's near Avellino?" I said, "Yeah," so we got out of Avellino. Well, he stuck. He didn't know where to go from there. So he started asking different people. And we couldn't talk Italian. My mother and father never spoke to 10 me, and I regret today, I would love to have had them to talk Italian to me every day. And, you know, besides the English language, I would have loved to really learn it. But I can understand a little, few things here and there, you know? I pick up on something. In fact, I know a few words in Italian. Not bad ones either, I'm talking about some pretty [laughter]. I can start off a little. Anyway, he finally talked to someone in this town there about Lacedonia. And he says, "Lacedonia?" He says, "That's about 30 0r 35 miles toward the Adriatic, right?" And I said, "Fine, let's go!" right? And the he says, "No, no, no," he says, "You gave me $300 to take you to Avellino," he says. I said, "Look, take me there. Whatever it is, I'll take care of you. Don't worry," you know? So, anyway, he complained all day long that he had to drive another 35 or so miles. So as we drove through -- and nice highways, up that way, gee, I saw a sign that said [Forgio] about 20 miles. And we were near Lacedonia, but it was kind of like Lacedonia was this way and Forgio -- I didn't know we were that close to Forgio. And I'm always kidding my friends who, their parents are from Forgio -- Forgians, they call them. And I kid them that, "Oh, that's not even in Italy," you know, "just Lacedonia is in Italy" [laughter]. But, so we got up there. It was up a little mountain. You could see it from a highway, you know? It was out in the -- cute little place. And we got into town, and I'll never forget… we saw my father's birthplace, of which we surely took pictures. I have pictures of all that. You know, one of the biggest shows of my life was going to see where my father was born. Don't mind me. I break up a little. But we did that. We went to -- oh, we were 11 walking along one of these streets, and I look down the road and I see DiGeronimo Market. LINDA ROSENLUND: A market? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yeah. I forget -- what was the name for market, do you know? ANNA ROSEVERO: Is it [unintelligible - 00:23:05] bodega? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Something like that. But they had a big sign on the road and everything. I really got excited at that. So I went down, and there was a little, small inn, about as big as this, about as big as my office here, no bigger than that. And he had all kinds of meats, fresh meats and cold cuts. He didn't have canned goods. It wasn't a full market, you know? But he had fish and different refrigeration cases, little produce, no groceries, really. So I walked in there and he was still waiting on a customer. Now, he doesn't know me. I didn't know him and he doesn't know -- his name was John DiGeronimo. And I… I didn't know how to start talking, because he started asking me, you know, what do I want to buy, you know? So I took my license plate and my license number, right, out of my wallet, and I handed it to him. I said, "I'm a DiGeronimo." He looked, he come, and he hugged me. He, "Follow me." My wife and I and my sister, we go, closes the market up right across the street to his home, right across the street. And there we met -- now, this has got to be a distant cousin I have, we couldn't even put out parents, but we must have been related somehow, you know, distance, [unintelligible - 00:24:52]. But we went over there and we met his wife, a lovely lady with two of the nicest daughters, and they were, they treated us as if they had known us… you know, we were so thrilled, and 12 they wanted us to stay overnight with them. I mean, they couldn't have been any more far, you know? And they didn't know we were coming or who we were, you know? They just -- we had some pictures with us, and we showed them pictures of my father, things about my father lived, he was born here and things like that, you know. But that was one of the nicest things. And naturally, they wouldn't let us go. We had to eat, we had to eat before we -- and now, the little guy is getting real nervous. When we finally left—and we must've stayed at least two or three hours with them—they wouldn't let us go. We kept saying that we got to go, and they actually stopped us. And we didn't want to barge on anybody, you know? So, anyway, we had a good time with them exchanging our family pin. Gloria did most of the talk, because Gloria, my wife's mother and father, were from Italy also. And that's another story, but you probably don't want to hear that one, I don't know. But they're from… I'd say Abruzzi, Corfinio and Abruzzi, and we went there too. Yeah, we -- I'll tell you a little bit about that. LINDA ROSENLUND: Yeah. Now, what year are we talking when you went back? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: When we went back? Oh, I'd say five, six years ago. LINDA ROSENLUND: Interesting. Did you see any family resemblance? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Oh, yes, yes. Definitely DiGeronimo trait, and don't ask me what it is. We got to the nicest man, and I can't say enough about him. And we correspond, we used to. Now we haven't for the last couple of years. But first when we got home, we started back and forth, but it was nice. We sent them things and they sent us things, stuff like that. But it's a warm feeling, you know? 13 LINDA ROSENLUND: I have to ask you something, and it's not even about this, but you just mentioned -- did you mention your sister was married to… Michael? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: DiBitteto. LINDA ROSENLUND: Oh, it's very strange because I went to Assumption College with Mike DeBitteto. But when I came here and heard you talking, I thought of him immediately. Because there's something about you. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Well, it's got to be. It's got to be Michael. LINDA ROSENLUND: He worked at the insurance, yes? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yes, right across the street. LINDA ROSENLUND: [Laughter] I've lost touch with him now, but I used to know him very well, and somehow you… you resemble him a little bit. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: He is my nephew. LINDA ROSENLUND: Very strange. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yes. Nice boy, very nice boy. LINDA ROSENLUND: As soon as you said the name, I thought, "I have to share this." [Laughter] ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Are you going to leave a [catch], or I can tell him… LINDA ROSENLUND: I don't have one, but I'll leave my name. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Name? Yeah, yeah. I'd love to tell him about it. Yeah, great. LINDA ROSENLUND: Good. Interesting. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yeah, that's who I was with, his mother, with his mother and father on that trip, 17 days. We had a great time. LINDA ROSENLUND: Did you? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yes. We want to go back now. They want to go back, so it's just, "Whenever you're ready." But I was playing on something next year, but I hope we'll be able to go by then. Things may be under control. They may have enough of 14 these maniacs so that we can live our lives again, you know? LINDA ROSENLUND: I was with a woman this morning who has a son that lives in Spain, and she told me that he told her that they arrested 30 people yesterday from Spain. Terrorists. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Oh, wow. LINDA ROSENLUND: So, I think there's a lot happening in other countries. Maybe we're not even hearing about it. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Oh yeah? That's right, that's right. LINDA ROSENLUND: And that's scaring themselves to think that somebody [unintelligible - 00:28:57]. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: I know. LINDA ROSENLUND: So, why don't you tell me a little bit about growing up in Leominster? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: In Leominster? Shoot, Leominster I can't. Leominster I can't… LINDA ROSENLUND: Oh, I know, in Fitchburg, I'm sorry. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: This is the first grade. Oh, in fact, we moved from North Main before we went to Fitchburg. We moved from North Main Street here, we moved down to French Hill on 8th Street. And that's where I lived until we moved. I lived maybe five years there until we moved to Fitchburg. I'm surprised why you didn't ask me why we didn't move to Fitchburg with here from Leominster and my father's business in Leominster. Well, I had an uncle. I had an Uncle Mike who was closer to my father then my Uncle Louie, who came into business with my father. And he had a barber shop in Fitchburg. And he had a two-tenement house on the south side of Fitchburg, a nice, nice area and everything. And he wanted my father to move. He had the downstairs; he wanted [unintelligible - 00:30:18] live 15 upstairs and he wanted my father downstairs. So that's when we moved to Fitchburg. Now, my uncle never drove, and he… everywhere my father went, took his brother. They were so close. You know, a lot of brothers are close, but these two, I've never seen two brothers that close. I mean, they just lived their whole lives together. And he died of cancer on Easter Sunday. I'll never forget the barber. He was 46 years old. Yes, that's Ernie DiGeronimo's father. Yes, Doctor Ernie, you know him? LINDA ROSENLUND: And this is Michael? Michael? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: His name was Michael. LINDA ROSENLUND: Michael. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yeah. I told you, a lot of Michaels. [Laughter] But he was a great guy. My father, we had a camp down at Lake [Samosa], in the early '30s, and his family, we'd get in the car and the truck, and we'd get down the lake. He was always there. As a kid, I can always remember him being there. And we got along great until he passed away. Then my father was so shook he wanted to move back to Leominster. And that's when he bought the home on North Main Street. LINDA ROSENLUND: So tell me about Lake [Samosa]. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yes, Lake [Samosa] No, I can remember my young [laughter] the days down there. My father, his business, we used to close Wednesday afternoon, 12 o'clock, we used to close. That was -- and Sunday, both the only days that market wasn't open. And naturally, in the summer months, that's where we used to spend all our time. In fact, we used to stay there, not just visit, not just go down for the day. You know, my mother used to stay there with the kids and everything. My father used to commute back and forth. 16 That's when I really [laughter], that's when I really started to work at the [laughter] in the market, in my father's market because, you know, he's going to work and I'm nine years old. And in them days, that's when the fathers wanted their sons—at least my father—wanted us to learn the business and do the things that we could do to help in his business. That's how we get started in my father's business. We used to -- you know, today everything comes in a 10-pound bag. In them days a 100-pound bag and you had to get a paper bushel bag, and we had to scoop the potatoes and then tie them up with twine. And that's how they sold potatoes in them days. And, I mean, it's the same thing is to have to bag those, and there were other things that we did. And I used to deliver my father's circulars, which today is an advertising thing like this. But it wasn't like that in them days; it was just maybe a piece of paper with the items that he was featuring. And we couldn't mail them. The mail was too expensive to mail them. And so my cousin Joe and I used to, once a week, a certain day, we used to deliver these to every home—not every home in Leominster, not the ones way out, but French Hill, the Italian section, West Side. We used to deliver these to every home, just drop them off at the door and keep going. I never [laughter], I never liked dogs because [laughter] -- that's why I've never had a dog to my children. They always said, "Dad, get me a dog." I had an experience with one and, you know, I was delivering, and he took a chunk out of me. But it wasn't serious, but it was enough to scare me from dogs. But Joe and I used to, we used to kid each other about it. We'd say, "Uh-oh, who's got to take this house?" [Laughter] God forbid if we had to do it, I mean, 17 you go back there, there's [imitates growling], you know. There we skipped a few houses [laughter]. You've got to answer to your father. LINDA ROSENLUND: Would you walk or take your bike? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Oh, walk. LINDA ROSENLUND: Walk? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Walk. Yeah. I didn't have a bike. LINDA ROSENLUND: No? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Well, we -- you know, we didn't have a lot of money in them days. And I remember having bikes, but I was a little older when I got a bike. LINDA ROSENLUND: Do you have any of those old fliers? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: No. LINDA ROSENLUND: No? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: No, I don't. I may have some ads I used to put in the… oh, that's when we had the business here. I go back that far. LINDA ROSENLUND: So tell me what a day was like for you when you were about eight or nine? For example, did you go to school first, and then… ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yes, oh, yes. Oh, I had to go to school, yes. LINDA ROSENLUND: So just tell me, give me an example of what a day was like in your life when you were about that age. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Well, I'll tell you maybe in Fitchburg, because I was six years old when we moved to Fitchburg and there was a school on South Street, Steep Hill in Fitchburg. You know where it is, because it's back and forth all the time, right? Hosmer School it was called, H-O-S-M-E-R, Hosmer School. It's a different thing now. Well, I went there for my second grade to my eighth grade. And from where I lived in Mountain Avenue, I had to walk down that hill. And you wouldn't mind it. Today I would mind if I had to 18 climb up, right? We had to walk to school. There were no buses, you know, school buses. You walked. And then when I went to Fitchburg High School, I had to walk from way up from Mountain Avenue all the way to Fitchburg High School, which was at the other, almost at the other end of town, right? But getting back to what you had asked me, yeah, I remember teachers' names. I remember… [Crotty], the principal. And she had that little whip, that little -- and she wasn't afraid to use it, you know? LINDA ROSENLUND: But I'm sure you never misbehaved. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: No, no, no. I never got hit, but I got some -- you know, a few taps and words, you know? Then there was a Miss O'Brien. She was my seventh grade teacher. I had a hard time with her, I don't know why. I don't think she liked me. You know, I'm not going to say this, because I don't want you to, I don't think she liked Italians. LINDA ROSENLUND: Oh, no? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Well, that's what I always thought. Because my brother would say boo, he had a mouthful, because my brother -- and I was quiet. I was really quiet, and I still am, but no one believes it. [Laughter] She had Michael, and then three years later she had me. And she gave Michael a really hard time. And Michael told me, he says, "Oh, you're going to get Miss O'Brien," and I says, "Yeah, I know it." But there are other -- Miss [Cunahan], and there was another O'Brien in the third grade. She was a peach. She was [unintelligible - 00:38:43]. I can still remember her, short, heavy-set woman, the nicest, a good teacher. I learned a lot from her. Geez, I'm surprised I remember these names. They're coming to me. LINDA ROSENLUND: It's funny how it comes back.19 ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: It's coming to me after, you know. But I enjoyed Hosmer. I played basketball as a kid at Hosmer. We played other elementary schools and things like that. And Miss Crotty, she was -- we used to have a field day at [Trocca] field, and we used to wear our… the same colors of the school. I think I was in yellow. I can't remember now. But we used to always dress with the colors, and we were proud of our Hosmer School, you know? Forget about Nolan School. You probably went to Nolan, didn't you? Sure. And, well, we were from Hosmer, and naturally, you know, everyone from there, [Wallow] Street School. We used to play basketball to all these schools, and it was nice. We'd get to meet other kids. But you always came from the best school, right? LINDA ROSENLUND: What would you do during your field day? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: I don't know. What would we do? I can't recall, but I remember going to Crocker Field with the family, and playing different games and things like that. Yes. LINDA ROSENLUND: So getting back to working, though. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Oh, no. I've got a good story. I've got a good story. But we'll all get back to work. All right. I got to be a pretty good basketball player. My freshmen year, our team went undefeated, and we were going to the junior high. They called it junior high in them days. Now, the freshmen, the seniors, it's all high school now. So we left [unintelligible - 00:40:41], which was our junior high school. And my team was undefeated. The same guys were going into high school. Well, as I was getting older, my father kept relying on me more and more to do work. And, you know, so I never told him about the basketball. I was a little too young to have to report every day. But you know, I got to 20 be a sophomore, he kind of wanted me there mostly every day. Now, I had to come, get on a bus, come to Leominster. And I'll never forget my sophomore year, [unintelligible – 00:41:37] basketball season came, all the guys, we all went out for basketball. And I heard all the other guys I played with on the first team, they went to the varsity in their sophomore year and I was very unusual, because I wasn't going to be there. I went the first day to practice, and I didn't tell my parents. So my father thought, after school I'll have to come down to the market, and when he closes at six we go home, right? Well, I got there around five, 5:30 and, "Where you've been?" I says, "Dad," I says, "I'm going to play basketball for the high school [unintelligible- 00:42:24] Coach Oliver." Do you remember Johnny Oliver? Yeah? He lived at the corner of Mountain Avenue. And then I says, "Maybe he's putting me on the varsity because I'm a neighbor." It was my old team. It wasn't just me, you know? So anyway, "Playing basketball? But you got to work." Well, I never played another game. And you know, today it's so much different. You push your children to play sports and things like that, but my father was a lovely man, but he was very, very strict. I suppose he had to be at the business he had to run, and he relied on me. And you know, to him, that was all right, because I probably I wouldn't have had this if I tried to do something else in life. You know? So I always praise my father. I say, "Dad, thank god you disciplined me enough…" it broke my heart, you know? I'm only -- how old am I, 15 years old, you know? Fourteen, 15, and not to be able to play, which, I loved the sport anyway. LINDA ROSENLUND: Were you different with your own children? 21 ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Oh, totally. [Laughter] Yes. And they all… most of them -- Jay, my oldest boy, David was the captain of the basketball team. Steven was captain of the basketball team his year and his year. So they were real -- they must've got a little few genes from me. Michael didn't go out for sports, and Jay didn't go out for sports. David played in the band. Oh, he enjoyed that too. He has a group now, they don't call them the… it will come. But they play locally. They're a band, they're a rock band. They play loud, loud music. I've gone a couple of times, but it's not my music. LINDA ROSENLUND: So he's not played for the Leominster band then? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: No. He played for the Leominster High School when he was in high school. Yeah. LINDA ROSENLUND: Okay. So tell me about the neighborhood that you lived in. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Here, I can't remember it all, because I don't think I was two years old when we moved down to French Hill on 8th Street. I remember down at 8th Street, though, the… no, I was on 7th Street. I'm sorry. 8th street was bound. The next street over, and I'm thinking the Lombardis. The Lombardis and Finney, they lived on 8th Street, and our backyards were together. And the Lombardis they were good friends of ours many years, and we're still very, very friendly with them. And they had a mother who did all the gardens and did all the cooking, and her husband passed away. And she brought up all their family. And I don't know how she did it, but she was an amazing woman. And she was very friendly with my mother, Clementine Lombardi. Her and my mother were like sisters, you know. And she used to make the bread, and you could smell it, but you know, we could smell it, and in the summer months especially, you know. But that's the young years that I can 22 remember, you know, playing with your sleds and things like that you do when you're kid, and hanging out the summertime in the yard with the Lombardi family and all the neighborhood. I had some good neighbors. I had some friends. But you know, to be that young and remember, you still have good memories of those things. Playing in the garden -- she never, Clementine never complained. Everything that she had was ours too, and she treated us like her own. She really did, she was a wonderful lady. She lived to be close to 100, yeah, Clementine. Lovely lady. And always visiting my mother. I'd drive her down, or Paul would take her down to my mother's, and my mother would get down there. So they were very, very close. She lived much longer than my mother, passed away at 79. Clementine lived to the almost a 100. Ninety-eight, I think. Wonderful, wonderful, hardworking lady. Boy, she worked. Of course, my mother didn't work, because my mother had to look kids. We had five. But those were nice days. LINDA ROSENLUND: You had five? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: I got six. My mother. Yeah. I had two brothers and two sisters. LINDA ROSENLUND: Okay. When I read some information about you, just from the Fitchburg Historical Society, they only listed your brothers for some reason. I don't know why. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: My brothers? LINDA ROSENLUND: Well, your brother. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Are you sure it wasn't my son? LINDA ROSENLUND: Arthur and Michael. There was no mention of sisters. So I didn't even know that you had any. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Oh, really? 23 LINDA ROSENLUND: It was just an article, so maybe they were concentrating on the business, so they didn't… ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Oh, all right. I'm going to give you this. You're going to read it and if you can pick anything from it that you'd like, that's fine with me. You don't have to mention the business. I don't -- you know, if that's not part of it, that's fine. LINDA ROSENLUND: Oh, it may be part of it, but it's just that we're trying to center on the history. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yeah. LINDA ROSENLUND: Fitchburg and Leominster and the Italians coming in. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Sure. LINDA ROSENLUND: So how was life different for your sisters then, growing up in your family? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Well, I don't know… other than being close to the brothers and brother and sister relationship, we got to live in -- well, we had a five-bedroom when we were up in Fitchburg, and my sister had… I remember my brother and I had a double bed, and Rita was the third one, and she had a single bed in the same room and everything. I mean, you never hear of that today. They want their own room, you know? It's a little different. And there was a closeness, because at night we talked and, you know, fight and whatever, you know? Not physically, but, you know, verbally. But you get very close to the family that way, you really do. Because my brother Michael was killed in the services two years older than I was, yet he treated -- I mean, he was with his friends. You know, three years, growing up, is a big difference. But he never treated me like too young to hang around with. My brother was very good to me. And I was good to him. Well, he was good to me. Let's put it that way. I 24 might have been a pain sometimes [laughter], you know? Little brothers are. LINDA ROSENLUND: So your sisters, though, were they expected to work at the supermarket? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: No. They had to take care of the home. That's what my mother had to do, bringing them up. And the girls had the different life. You know, in them days I don't think there were many high school women or girls who worked at the store, really. Maybe it's because I never saw my daughter or my sisters work, you know? But no, my father never called on the girls to come and do work in the store. And you know what? In my business, we never pushed ahead my daughters. I never pushed them. My daughters can do the business. Of course, my brother Jimmy, he's got the three boys, and Joe's got the two girls, but they never came into the -- Joe's, they never came into the business either. Just I don't know why but he just didn't push it. Not that they wouldn't come in. Like Jane, my daughter Jane, I mean, coming into the business, sure, they went to work as a cashier in the store, but they didn't come down to do the things that my sons do versus what my daughters. Like Lisa, when they got 16, they worked at my market. Not full-time, part-time, like a high school girl work. You know, cashier or stuff like that. Yeah, they did, but they didn't come into the business as such. LINDA ROSENLUND: Was education important to your family when you were growing up? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Oh, yeah. Yeah. They all went to -- you mean, you don't mean my family? You mean my… LINDA ROSENLUND: Your parents. Was it important to your parents?25 ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Oh, yes. Yes. Well, we were in the service, and we all went to college. I went to Becker's College, and I got an associate's degree in business. And then I was going to further my education and go for my bachelor's degree, but my father lost his stepbrother, who worked quite a bit for him. His stepbrother, yeah. And he went into business for himself, and he left when I was just starting another year of business school. And I guess I was the one who only went for two years. My cousins went for four years, so they couldn't come into the business. So I was the first one into my father's business full-time after my education at Becker College. I came in. My father needed help very bad, and so I says, "Dad, this is going to be my living." And I stopped going, and I came into the business. I had to help him out. Because, you know, my father and uncle, they couldn't do a lot of things that my step-uncle could do. He took all the [wasted] delivery; he took all of the orders. He could write clearer than my father and my uncle. And when he left, it left a big void in my father's business, and that's when I went in, in 1950. 1950 I went into my father's business. And in '55 we opened up, this was our first supermarket. Yeah, five years later. Yes. And I had… my two cousins who came into the business after finished college, so they came in. My brother Jimmy, who had the four years left to go, he didn't come in until four years later. It will be a lot in there if you read, you can get some stuff out of. LINDA ROSENLUND: It sounds as if you never thought of doing anything else, about working? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: No, that's when I made the decision that that's what I wanted to do. And not only to help my father, naturally, 26 but to, you know -- because I got married in 1951, so I had to make up my mind to go full-time to work, you know? And that's what I knew most of over the years growing up and [unintelligible - 00:55:16] in the service. I spent two years in the service. Went overseas, 18 years old. LINDA ROSENLUND: After graduating from high school? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yeah. Yeah, 1944. LINDA ROSENLUND: Tell me a little bit about that. I know it must be painful for you to talk about it. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Well, I took my basic training, and then, the Battle of the Bulge, I was just through my basic training. I was going overseas, and we got word that my brother was killed. And I went overseas as an infantry replacement, because so many Americans got killed at that time that they were calling. They shortened my basic training, and I'm on the ship going overseas, and I joined my officer right after the Bulge in Bastogne, Germany as just the rifleman, an 18-year-old. I didn't know what it was about and all, but I got through it. I don't know how, but we did. LINDA ROSENLUND: So you got active duty then? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yes. Yes. I was -- once a bullet goes over your head, you get a combat badge. And I'm very proud of it. I still have it on top of my bureau. It's a blue picture of a rifle, and the only time you could get it is if you were… LINDA ROSENLUND: I've been watching that special HBO, have you seen that? It's called Band of Brothers. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: I watched part of it. I didn't watch too much of it. I went to see a Ryan, what's that? LINDA ROSENLUND: Private Ryan. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Private Ryan. It stayed with me a little. Usually stuff like that doesn't, you know? I went two years ago, when it first 27 came out, and my wife says, "Do you really want to go see that?" And I says, "Yeah." But you know, we were [unintelligible – 00:57:31] at the time, let me tell you. And my daughter Lisa was down for a week. She was [unintelligible - 00:57:34]. And she was down with her husband and we went to the theater, and we went to see the Ryan movie, right? Private Ryan. And my daughter and my wife went to see some other movie in the same building. I can't say I enjoyed it, you know. It was so real, it really was. But I get over it. I mean, you know, but that's why I haven't looked, but they tell me it's a great series. LINDA ROSENLUND: So last Sunday, the segment was called "The Replacement," so -- and you just told me… ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Wow, really? LINDA ROSENLUND: Yeah. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yeah, that's how it went over. You know, it would have been nice if I could have gone over with [unintelligible - 00:58:37] same guys and everything when you go for replacement. LINDA ROSENLUND: I never even thought of it before. But then watching it, just to see how hard that was. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yeah. LINDA ROSENLUND: You weren't even sure who was on your team and who wasn't. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Oh, yes. Yes. Well, I lived in the [unintelligible - 00:58:57] and I don't brag about that. I was in the foxhole for two weeks. It was just [unintelligible – 00:59:01] and chocolates and… just keep your head down, they said. Keep your head down; the artillery will take care of everything.28 LINDA ROSENLUND: So you actually stay in that foxhole? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Oh, yes. Yeah. It's like a dream, "Did it really happen?" You know, "Did this really happen?" And we lost half a battalion. We went to a town in Germany, and we were dug in, and we were supposed to take the town over but we heard there was some SS troops, German troops—those were the tough ones, the SS. And the air force didn't want to bomb before we went in. They didn't think there was that much in there, but we had heard there were, you know? So the air force didn't want to bomb, so they made us go in, and we lost a lot of our guys. They could've bombed that town, but maybe they didn't want to hit the civilians. You know how we are in America. LINDA ROSENLUND: They showed something like that last week. There was, you know, the infantry comes in and they kind of case the area, and they saw a German tank. But the tank was hidden by a brick building. So one of the infantry soldiers ran up to a British tank and told the guy, "There's a tank right there around the building." And he said, "I was told not to damage any buildings." ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Oh, boy. LINDA ROSENLUND: So he was forced… ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Oh, I've got to watch that. That's quite different from Private Ryan, isn't it? LINDA ROSENLUND: And what's nice about it, it's just one hour. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yes. That's enough. LINDA ROSENLUND: A little bit too much. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yes. LINDA ROSENLUND: So tell me about being Italian. What does that mean to you? 29 ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: I don't know. Being Italian. You know, we're all Americans, but I don't know, there's just something, I have such respect for the Italians that… like they can do no wrong. But I know there's bad in every nationality. But I'm very proud of being Italian. I'm an American, but very proud of the heritage. I don't know, I'm proud of it because I'm proud of my father's heritage. But you know, I think now, what about my children? I mean, they have to be proud that I'm an American. And I was proud my father was an American also, you know? Though it isn't that -- I was so young when we came from Italy that he really was an American. You know? I mean, he didn't go to the only one -- he finished the eighth grade, and that was it, then he had to go to work. So in them days, that's the way it was. But I don't know if I answered your question, but yes, I'm very proud. LINDA ROSENLUND: You said that you're proud of the heritage. What does that mean, that you're proud of the [unintelligible – 01:02:22]? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: What the Italians brought to this country, you know? I got books, the magazines that I read on some of the famous Italians, who -- you know, I like to read about them. Anything to do with Italian, I'll -- you know, I'll spend time doing a lot of reading. But normally I'm not a big reader. I couldn't sit, takes me a -- even on a cruise, to do one book? Forget it. I can't even do a book on a cruise, you know what I mean? I'm not really a reader. I'm a short reader. LINDA ROSENLUND: So did you ever feel differently then maybe some of your friends that weren't Italian while you were growing up? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Not a bit. Not one single bit. I had a friend here that lived on the North Main Street here. His name was Bill [Chase]; 30 he was one of the closest friends of mine. He didn't have to be Italian, no. But, you know, I've had a lot of Italian friends also. But no, it never bothered me no matter what nationality they were. I was friends with some Jewish boys, nice boys. It never -- you know, sure, I'm proud of being Italian. I can kid someone say… you know, I can dig the Irish or something like that, but… or the French, nothing like… a lot of the times when I'm in their company, I'll say, "Too bad you're not Italian," you know, "we're the best." Kiddingly, you know, different thing. But never really mean it. I had some close Irish friends, very close Irish friends too. I tell them jokes about the Irish, something like that, and they tell me about being Italian. But no, there never -- all these years in business when the salesmen came in, if he was Italian, it didn't make a bit of difference or whatever nationality he was. If they had the goods and I wanted to buy, I bought it. I don't care. I did business with Jewish companies, wholesale companies. And you know what I can say? Maybe I shouldn't say it [laughter]. The Jewish people are good business people. They respect getting business from you and really, they are… it's amazing. It's amazing how you, in America, at least, a lot of people -- doesn't make any difference. We're Americans. That's the way I look at it. Yet I love the Italians. So, you know? LINDA ROSENLUND: Are there any customs or traditions that you tried to carry over in your own family? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Like pasta on Sunday? Definitely. My wife, every Sunday, she's got to make the sauce and -- all from scratch. The meatballs, the sausage, the pork. You put some pork in there too. All my kids and… no one can make meatballs 31 like my wife. And my wife has taught my daughter-in-laws exact, and they do the exact thing, and what do you think the kids will say? "How come it doesn't taste like granny's?" It's wonderful to have a reputation like that, isn't it? [Laughter] And I play bocce. For years I played bocce. And I love the sport. And you know what? There are -- now that I'm in two leagues [unintelligible – 01:06:28] and Italian center league, and there is many non-Italians that can play bocce as good as Italians. And you say, "Gee, how come?" You know? It's in our blood, but I guess all through the years that we played with some French and Irish and you know what nationality, they're as good as any Italian playing bocce. They know why. You know, you think that would be -- see, there's where the Americanism comes in. If you want to play, you can be Irish, you can play. And you get to be as good as anybody if you play at it. Golfers, look at the golfers today. You know, there aren't many Italian golfers. I don't know, you know? But anyway… LINDA ROSENLUND: I was thinking of the hockey players, how they all used to be Canadian. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: French. You know, but if you get away from that… I'm not a hockey enthusiast, but there are a lot, there aren't that many black hockey players. And I wonder why. They're fast. But in basketball, it's all you see now in basketball, you know? But football you see a lot of Italians in football. Why I don't know, but you do, but not in basketball. Not in basketball. You got to be fast, you got to be tall and fast. And I always kid my two boys who played basketball, I say to them, "David and Steven, oh, you guys only had the speed that some of the blacks have." There's something 32 about the blacks. They've got those flight feet, you know? But I don't mind them either. I like to watch basketball, and they're a big percentage of them. If it bothered me, I wouldn't get so interested in it. But I do. LINDA ROSENLUND: What kind of celebrations did you have for, let's say, Christmas? Have you followed tradition? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Oh, yes. Yeah. Night before Christmas, we have our seven fishes. We don't have any sauce that night. That comes the next day, with the ravioli. Now and today, we look forward, my kids look forward to the Christmas Eve dinner versus Christmas Day dinner. I don't know why, but you know? Christmas Day, you might have turkey, roast beef, and you have your ravioli. But that night you don't have any of that. It's all fish. It's all fish. The kids, the calamari, the pasta, the sauce, the -- what do they call it -- the [aglio e olio], right? Pour that white sauce over the pasta, as good as the red one [laughter]. But that's the tradition. And we exchange our gifts that night. Because if the kids, when the kids were young, the boys wanted to be Christmas morning with their kids, with their own kids, where they can open up their gifts and then they can put together the toys that they got. And then at night they come over to our house after they've had the day with themselves. But they will stay the night before until 11 or 12 o'clock. But then we give all the gifts out, you know? LINDA ROSENLUND: Do you feel like your generation rejected any values from the first generation? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: No, I can't think… the only thing I would say was… my father being that strict and no sports was on his game. I mean, his business is bringing up the same [unintelligible - 01:11:16] working hard. But you know, I never… I don't 33 know if I could ever tell my son, "I need you in the business. You can't play basketball." You know, especially if they're good at it. You know what I mean? But you know, you don't have to be that good now today. As long as they play the game, as long as they play the sport, it's the only thing I can really… I didn't reject it. Disappointed, yes. But I learned a lesson from it. When I got married, I said, "I'm not going to let it happen to my kids. If they want to play." It was a different situation. My father couldn't afford to pay people to do work in the store, you know? And today we have a business that we don't have to rely on -- I don't have to have my Sean, who just started college, I don't have to have him work in the business. He did. He worked in high school. David had him working in high school, but it isn't that he had to, you know what I mean? But it's good for him. It's good for all. I've got my little Katie, who turned 16, she's at St. Bernard's, and she works in the store. That's wonderful. But they don't take away from soccer or sports or Sean's baseball for the high school. He was their catcher for three years. And my son David never stopped; he never said no, he had to get to work at the Victory. And it's just a different world. It's different. It's a better world. I think it's a better world when you can have your kids, you know, spoil them rotten. [Laughter] What the heck. And, you know, the parents enjoy it as much as the kids do, playing ball. You can't miss a game. When Sean was playing over the [unintelligible - 01:13:29] field, what do you think I wouldn't do? I'd leave the office and go to watch the game. I didn't want to miss it. We missed that, yeah. In the years I was building the business, you know, if I 34 couldn't drive the kids to the play—and they all played little league and basketball and soccer—my wife used to drive them there if I get home from work late from the store, but, you know, throughout the years of this business. But truth is it's nice they can do these things today that we weren't able to, that my father wasn't able to do. And I'm sure if he lived in this generation, I know he'd be the same way. He wouldn't… how can you say it? I don't know. I'm trying to think of a word, it won't come out, but that's all right. LINDA ROSENLUND: Would you have been understanding if your sons didn't want to join you in the market business? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Well, there's another -- where do you get all these questions from? [Laughter] They are good. I'll never forget. I'll tell them when they get out of college -- my first boy, Jay, went to college, he went to Georgetown, three more years, became a lawyer. I wanted to set him up in an office in Leominster. I says, "We've got a good name in Leominster, you've got a good start." I says—and this is the way I put it—"Do you want cocktails for lunch, Saturdays and Sundays off? Or do you want to come to another business and work night and day, Saturdays, Sundays and nights." He said, "Dad, I want the business." And he helped build the business to what it is today. It's 20 years now. He's been the president of our company, and if it wasn't for him I probably would have sold out a few years back, you know? And my other boys they did the same thing. They finished their college, they all went to four years college, and I says to David, my next boy, "You want to come into the business?" "Yep, I'm ready." And I says, "You don't have to. If you can find something else 35 that you like, go ahead and try it. And then you can come back into the business. I never, never, never said: "No, you're coming to the business," not one of them. And they know that. You can ask them. I always said to them, "God forbid if the business didn't go, I don't want you to say that I forced you into the business." I want a clear mind on that, right? And my other two, I did the same thing to them. They all wanted to come into the business. It's very unusual, you know? Of course, you have family too? That's wonderful, yes. LINDA ROSENLUND: But they all got the hard work ethic? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yes. They're all good workers too. They're not -- you know, they like this sport and stuff like that, and they have to take their children here and there, fine. But they do their job. They all do their job, which is very nice, you know? I'm very proud of them. I'm proud of my wife for bringing them up too, when I was still in business. You know, this guy's got me. I've got to share. If they didn't come over for two days, I've got to go up his house. LINDA ROSENLUND: Now, that's your grandson? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yes. LINDA ROSENLUND: What's his name? He's your youngest grandson. ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Jack. LINDA ROSENLUND: Jack? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Yes, Jack. And I don't mean to single him out, don't worry. I had a lot of fun with all my others too. But this time I'm a little older and I've got a little more time, you know. If I go home for lunch, which I did today, she wasn't there today, I was disappointed. I thought she'd be there. [Laughter] She was [unintelligible - 01:17:41] devil, spoiled rotten and everything else. You should see 36 when he comes into this office, my. He's got to sit, I let him sit here. And then when we have to leave, right? He won't go. I've got to pick him up, pick him up to the car. He thinks I'm going with him and I don't, he's screaming out there. [Laughter] LINDA ROSENLUND: So how do you foresee your grandchildren's life different, as it will be different from yours? ARTHUR DIGERONIMO: Well, gee… you know, bringing up that question now, it's… when I've seen this happen, when this broke out, I didn't think of me, I thought of my kids and my grandchildren. What kind of a life is it going to be for them? You know, we were lucky. We were lucky, right, Ann? We had all this freedom for so many years, and now it's gone, but we can't act that way. We have to go forward as if everything's going to be all right. But you know, who knows what's going to happen? And I think that my four grandchildren, my kids too, because they're all in there. My daughters in their 30s, and my boys in their 40s, you know, they're still young, too, [unintelligible - 01:19:06] world, you know? Sorry, Jay. Jay, come on! Say hello to Anne and Linda. This is the guy I've been talking about. We're doing a little Italian culture. Maybe you can help me in a few questions. [Laughter] No, not the business. Why didn't grandpa, why didn't your great-grandfather come over to this? I know he took dad. He took your grandfather, and uncle… why did he come to Leominster, Fitchburg?/AT/lj/es

The Mercury November, 1909 HELP THOSE WHO HELP US. The Intercollegiate Bureau of Academic Costume. Cotrell & Leonard, ALBANY, N. Y. Mak^« °f CAPS AND GOWNS To Gettysburg College, Lafayette, Lehigh, Dickinson, State College, Univ. of PeMi -ylvania, Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Wellesley, Bryn Mawr and the others. Class Contracts a Specialty. Correct Hoods of Degrees To The Class of '10. We have begun our college campaign for next Spring and Summer. Over 25,000 employers look to Hapgoods for their men in sales, offices and technical positions in all departments. Most of these Arms use college men. They arrange with us to cover the en ire college world for them. We have a unique preposition of in mediate interest to any college man who will be open for a propo-sition. Let us tell you about it. Write to-day. TXL _,_^ _j c^ 17^ ,-~ " TIM JVJtTJOJVJJ, ORGJJYMZJITtOJV Of HfipGrOQEltB, BMUMM- BUOHMUBS. Commonwealth Trust Building, Philadelphia, Pa. HOTEL GETTYSBURG, Headquarters for BANQUETS. 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XVII GETTYSBURG, PA., NOVEMBER, 1909 No. 6 CONTENTS. THE WBONG OP WASTE 2 DAVID M. CRIST, '10. FEESCOING A LOST ART 3 ELMER STOUFFER, '11. A HALLOWE'EN STOEY 7 SAMUEL BOWER, '10. THE VOTEE'S DOMINANT PBINCIPLES: WHAT THEY SHOULD BE 12 ROT V. DERR, '10. IS GEEMANY A MENACE TO THE WORLD'S PEACE? 15 C. M. ALLABACH, '11. A NAEEOW ESCAPE 16 R. L. MCNALLY, '13. THE "BACK HOME" BOY 20 EDWIN C. MORROW, '12. THE EVOLUTION OP THE BEAST 22 EDWARD N. FRYE, '10. THE SPIEIT OP THE PLACE 24 HARVEY S. HOSHOUR, '10. EDITORIALS '. 29 EXCHANGES 31 GETTYSBURG COLLEGE Gettysburg, Pa. | - LIBRARY - I THE MERCURY. THE WRONG OF WASTE. DAVID M. CRIST, '10. jO the contemplative mind one of the saddest things in the world is the waste that is going on, and has gone on ever since civilization dawned. Much of this waste is wretched, needless, wicked; it means human efforts thrown away; it is one form of homicide for it sacrifices life and the material that life thrives on, and thus it hampers progress. What does a grain of corn amount to? Nothing, we hear the wasteful man say. Yet the secretary of agriculture of Missouri computes that one grain on every ear of corn grown in his State alone would add one hundred thousand dollars to the wealth of the State each year. We have all been told what a large sum the saving of a few cents a day will amount to, if allowed to roll up for a period of years, yet we all go through life really unmindful of the possi-bilities there are in such little things. A Kansas statistician has recently figured that the men of that State are constantly wearing on their coat sleeves eighty thousand dollars worth of buttons which serve no earthly use. It is easy enough, of course, to over do economy and make it ridiculous, and it is often most difficult to say whether a given policy is wasteful or economical. In this country our railroads work their locomotives very hard, and wear them out in a few years, whereas in England locomotives are used very carefully, and are kept in service several times as long. The English blame our railroads for being wasteful in this, whereas our au-thorities hold that it is better to get the best wear out of any ma-chine in a reasonable time, and then scrap-heap it, and replace it with something newer and better. Large scale producers such as the Carnegie Steel Company of Pittsburg, have owed their success in no small degree to their lavish expenditures, or industrial experiments, and for the in-stallation of new machinery as soon as its superiority to that in use has been demonstrated. So ideas to what is waste will differ. Unquestionably we are wasting our coal, oil, natural gas, and THE MERCURY. 6 timber supplies in this country, but under the conditions it does not pay to husband these material resources. A few years ago the world became alarmed because its fuel supply seemed to be coming to an end. Now, we are harnessing the rivers, water-falls, and even the glaciers, and making them do much of the work that coal hitherto has done. There is no small doubt that before the coal supply is ex-hausted the world will be so completely electrified that the use of coal will have become obsolete. The waste of timber is more serious, and yet as lumber rises in price other materials will be developed to take its place, witness the present rapid introduc-tion of concrete for building purposes. This country would not be what it is if it had been developed UDcler such a saving policy as has necessarily dominated the rise of European nations, so it would be well for us to remember the words of Benjamin Franklin when he said: "What maintains one vice would bring up two children. Eemember many a little makes a nickle. and farther, beware of little expenses; a small leak will sink a great ship." FRESCOING A LOST ART. ELMER STOUFFER, '11. EW people realize that the frescos which they see on the walls of buildings are the remnants of a once great art. An art which for the number of men who were engaged at it and scope of application never had an equal. The history of this great form of art is long and of itself interesting to read. It is not the purpose in this article to give the history beyond what is necessary to the illustration of the subject in hand. It shall be our purpose to discuss the art as we know it, and the methods of the frescoer of to-day. It is claimed by many that the art of frescoing was known to the ancient Egyptians, but this is doubtful. If they knew any-thing at all about it, it could not have been more than enough THE MERCURY. •to cover the walls of their houses with the crudest and coarsest kinds of earth colors mixed with water. True one can find buildings decorated in patterns which are supposed to be genu-ine reproductions of ideas found on the walls of Egyptian ruins, but the methods of getting these actual designs are never told. The whole is fanciful and not certain enough to receive much consideration. The Greeks were familiar with the art of fres-coing but the extent to which they developed the art is uncer-tain. The excavations of Schlieman have brought forth some old decorated pieces of walls which were thought to be frescoes, but careful examination has shown them to be mere earth colors applied in various designs. The Hebrews it is certain knew nothing of frescoing. It was not until the beginning of the Christian era that the art rose to its fullest development. The Christian artist wanted an art which would properly express the emotions. The stirring scenes of the early Christian times were the subjects for the •church decorator to work upon. The art which he would use must be able to express faith, hope, joy, sorrow, grief, pain and things of that nature. Sculpture, the art of the Greeks, would not answer his purpose for that is essentially an art of repose. Frescoing seemed the only one capable of answering his purposes so he employed it. Even then the early decorator was held in check by ecclesiastical interference. In decorating the churches he was not permitted, even though he had the impulse, to use any type not traditional. For this reason we find nearly all the fres-coes of this period consist of the gaunt, pinched bodies of an-chorites and saints. In the sixteenth century this art reached its highest state of development. In this period some of the world's most famous frescoers lived, and some of the most noted frescoers were executed. Several of the works produced in this period are extant to this day. The wave of Iconoclast fanaticism which swept over Europe in the sixteenth century struck the art a blow from which it has never wholly recovered. In England nearly all the paintings were destroyed. In some churches they were merely defaced, hut in those churches where the frescoes could not be destroyed without permanently injuring the buildings, the despoilers cov- THE MERCURY. «red them up with lime. On the continent of Europe the hatred was not so intense, and it is doubtful whether any works of real value were destroyed. It is true, however, that when the Icono-clastic wave had swept away, the art was practically dead. In America very little is known about frescoing. Our near-est approach to it are the distemper paintings with which we decorate our theatres and churches. Several reasons might be mentioned for this, but the most reasonable seems to be that Americans are too impatient to apply themselves to a trade in which the first and chief requisite is painstaking precision. The Americans as a class are too much in a hurry to take the time which it is necessary to do a good work of frescoing. The aver-age American does not care what a piece of work costs but he invariably does want his work done at once. So little interest is taken in the art in America that not one color manufacturer is to be found who so much as manufacture the kind of color which mural decorators use. The American decorator must depend upon the shops of Germany for the colors which he uses. German workshops also supply America with her supply of deco-rators. Frescoing as clone in former times required a great deal more skill than it does to-day. The work was all done while the plaster was still soft. The decorator decided in the morning just about how much surface he wished to cover that day. The plasterer, who worked right with him, then finished that much. With a sharp pointed awl or some other instrument the deco-rator then marked the design in the plaster, and proceeded to his task. Sometimes a small design of the work in hand was made and kept lying by to refer to in case the decorator became puz-zled as to how to proceed. The necessity of this can readily be seen when one remembers that some of the great works of this kind were fifteen and sometimes twenty years in the accomplish-ment. If all which was marked could not be done in the day the plasterer cut the unfinished portion off and they began all over again. An almost perfect knowledge of pigments was ab-solutely essential to the decorator of the old time. Lime in dry-ing causes many colors to fade and some to become darker. It was necessary for the mechanic to know just what effect the lime tf**ftiufvrxv GETTYSBURG COLLEGE * Gettysburg, Pa. LIBRARY 10 THE MEBCURY. "An unlucky spot," sighed Proud Patrick. "He ain't the first, nor thirteenth to be tuk tar." Hattie came running in with the holy water bottle and Mis-tress Proud Patrick eagerly bathed poor Oiney's head. As the cold drops fell showering upon his face Oiney winced in spite of himself. "The color is comin' to his cheeks," said Hattie as she knelt over him solicitously. "The fire is warmin' him. He's comin' roun' all right." "God be thanked for holy water bottle said Mrs. Proud Pat-rick. "Let's raise him up a bit," said Del. "An' a drop of nice warm sweet milk with a pinch o' ginger and sugar might do the poor fello' good," said Hattie. "Bether couldn't be," said Del. "An' a bowl o' tea," added Chris. "An' a drop o' spirits," said Joe. At this insinuation a perceptible glow over-spread the features of the unconscious one and to the delight of Del and eve^one there, a sigh escaped his lips. "God be thanked," said Hattie. Del bent over his patient and softly whispered, "Oiney." Oiney slowly opened his eyes and looked wonderingly and in-quiringly about him. "Del—is—is—thet—you ?" "Yis, yis, me darlint." "Del—where an' where can I be?" "Make yer min' aisy, ye are in a dacent house an' with dacent folks. Mister Proud Patrick and Mistress and Hattie McPher-son. Del then asked for a drop of whiskey and tried to persuade Oiney to take it but he refused. "Just a drop," said Del. "Only a toothful," said Mrs. Proud Patrick," and take it as medicine. It'll send the blood through yer veins." But Oiney looked gratefully at Mrs. Proud Patrick and ten-derly at Hattie, but still refused to touch the whiskey. The patient grew rapidly stronger on the beef tea which was THE MEKCURY. 11 tendered by loving hands and thanked the whole family for the trouble they had gone to in his behalf. "But ah, ye knows I can't be kapin' ye dacent folk out o' bed all night—it's almost mornin' now." "Oh, that's all right," volunteered Hattie. "It's no bother an' as to me uncle an' aunt, there, they can go to bed any time now seein' ye are on the fair way to mendin' yerself; an' me an' Eosie-an' Matthew 'ill tarry a while an' git ye somethin' to eat." "Uncle," she continued, "you an' me aunt can now take yer-selves off to bed seein' poor ill Oiney here is gettin' along bet-ter. Myself an' Eosie an' Matthew 'ill take care of him jes as good as if you was here." So with more thanks Oiney bade them good night and wished them a sound sleep and pleasant dreams, and assured them he would never forget their timely generosity. Then Hattie warmed some sweet milk and supported Oiney while he drank it. He was soon sufficiently strengthened to make his way to the fireside with the help of Hattie and Eosie, where he and Hattie sat down together. Oh, I'm ever so glad you're comin' roun' so fast," Said Hattie. "Faith an' I know the doctor I'm thankin' for the same," re-plied Oiney, his eyes beaming upon her. "Och, don't bother me Oiney, it's a poet you should a' been born—you've a tongue as sweet as any poet's." "Well, it's no poet you should a' been born, darlin' but in the Garden of Aiden." "Array, go way with ye." "Yis. in the Garden of Aiden, when man was alone an' com-fortless." "But the Bible never mentioned Adam takin' 'fever gortach," and Oiney reflected. "Oh, Adam would a' got it some how if he had a thot that it would a brot you in its wake." "Houl on Oiney. Take yer arm away out o' that. Take it away. Tre' ain't no danger o' my takin' waikness—no fear of it." "An' thr' all blamin' poor Adam 'cause he ate the apple"— went on Oiney, philosophical!}', gazing into the fire, still keeping ^■^■i^^n^^^^^^^^^^^H 12 THE MERCURY. his arm across her as if absentmindedly. "I know well if I was Adam an' some people I know was Eve, an' that if this partick-ler Eve offered me the same size o' rat pizen and sayed, Here Adam, my sweet, take this, its good, I'd swallowed it an' swared it was honey." "My, what a nice fellow you'd make for the lucky woman that gits ye," said Hattic. "But will ye take away yerself an' take yer arm out o' thet." "Oh," said Oiney in surprise. "Is that where my arm is?" Yet absentmindedly he went on philosophizing upon man's lonely lot had not God given him lovely woman to be a joy and a blessing forever. Del whiled away the early morning hours for Eosie, the maid, and poor Chris and Joe Eegan smoked their pieces of pipe. When the gray dawn began to filter through the blackness of the night, Hattie and Eosie who now had to begin their day's work, bade their sweethearts a merry good-bye after promising to meet them on Sunday evening at the Crooked Bridge. THE VOTER'S DOMINANT PRINCIPLES SHOULD BE. WHAT THEY ROY V. DERR, '10. .NDIVIDUAL right of franchise is the heart of a demo-cratic government. The stability and perpetuity of a nation such as ours depend upon the righteous use of the ballot-box j while corruption and dissolution are the fruit of its abuse. The right to vote becomes a cherished privi-lege by the young man as he approaches twenty-one. At this point a searching question confronts him. Will he be influenced by seductive tradition and paternal inheritance? Will he con-tinue to cast his vote as father always did? Or will he permit his privilege to be directed by certain guiding principles? This is the vital question. When one thinks of the untutored multi-tudes who become the prey of scheming politicians, it becomes an THE MERCURY. 13 important question. But what should these dominant motives, of action be? If our voter is a man of any education or good judgment, he will seek to have a general knowledge of the country's condition and needs. He aims to know the issues at stake, and the plat-form of his chosen party with regard to them. Why ? That he may decide whether the candidate in question is fully qualified for the position. In other words he will endeavor to vote intel-ligently. Not merely boasting a long ancestry who were stal-wart Democrats or life-long Eepublicans. Very often such a spirit is but ignorant pride and betrays the lack of intelligence and reason. The voter should not only be able to state his party,, but also to tell why it is his preference. But the careful voter will not stop with an investigation into the ability of the candidate to fill the duties of office. He goes further and deeper. He will seek to know the aspiring office seeker as a man. What is his character? A man of self-con-trol and integrity ? Will he prove faithful to the trust ? These questions must be answered affirmatively by the conscientious voter. Strict sense of civic duty demands nothing less. The loyal citizen will not cast his vote for incompetent or unworthy men out of mere favor or friendly acquaintance. To do so weak-ens the dictates of his moral conscience. The highest motives should control our franchise; the prosperity of the State, the-welfare of the community, and the best interests' of all concerned. This is true loyalty and genuine patriotism. Above all, for the thoughtful man the dominant principle will be party subordinate to the man. Some one may ask would not such universal independent voting destroy political parties? They are essential to counter-balance one another in government. In answer the true voter will use his influence in securing the best men on the party ticket of his preference, if for some reason these are not chosen, but undesirable nominees instead, the strict sense of civic duty will compel him to refuse to vote for those men. Partisanship must bow before right and duty. Prejudice and tradition must yield to justice and intelligence. It is bet-ter to cut one's ticket and prove traitor to one's party than to iise one's franchise in voting for incompetent or unworthy men. Then he will have nothing to regret. L GETTYSBURG COLLEGEI Gettysburg, Pa. LIBRARY ^^^■^^^^B^^^H 14 THE MERCURY. Who is to blame for corruption in politics? For partisan legislation and bad government? Those holding office we say. But our nation is a democracy! We boast of the rule of the-people! The boomerang springs back upon the voter himself. Corrupt legislation reflects itself upon the public at large. If office holders prove unloyal to their country's trust, it shows that the voters were not careful enough to elect the best men. This situation is but a practical application of the fable in which the indulgent master gives shelter, under his tent, to the imploring ass who in turn ungratefully kicks him out! What, then, should be the voter's dominant principles? To serve his country and State, not only party and self. To know the needs and conditions of his nation or community. To elect the man best fitted to fill the position, that is the man of capabil-ity and character. The former involves the ability to discharge his duties well and efficiently. The latter includes those quali-ties of honesty and integrity as will enable the office holder to stand fearlessly against bribery, partiality or injustice. Such is the type of man whom the true voter will strive to elect. So long as the right of franchise is jealously guarded and highly prized, there will be no need to fear the downfall of our repub-lic. But she shall ascend higher as a moving power in the eyes of the civilized world. Her destiny will not approach soon, but with the oncoming years, she shall exert an untold influence-among the nations of the world. THE MERCURY. 15 IS GERMANY A MENACE TO THE WORLD'S PEACE ? C. M. ALLABACH, '11. T can hardly be denied by those who have noticed the trend of international politics that Germany is the greatest obstacle to the world's peace to-day. This has become strikingly evident in recent years. Diplomatic relations between the English and Germans have been strained for more than a decade. The famous Kruger tele-gram of 1896, the intense commercial rivalry, the hostile attitude of the German people during the Boer War, the biting criticism of the press, and finally, the manifest intention of Germany to wrest from Great Britain her maritime supremacy, have all com-bined to make the situation critical. To England, this mari-time supremacy is a matter of life and death; to Germany, it is an object of mere desire or ambition. Examples of German aggressiveness are numerous. The first American experience of it was in the Samoan Islands in 1888, and a second in 1898, when Germany sent a powerful fleet to the Philippine Islands. Japan felt it in 1895 when Germany joined Russia and France in forcing her to recede from the Liao-Tung Peninsula which bore no small weight in furthering and hasten-ing the outbreak of the Russo-Japanese War. All Europe and America was unfavorably impressed by the attitude of the Ger-mans in the Boxer uprising. Then, too, it is generally known that Germany took the initiative in the Venezuelan blockade in 1M2, and since the power of Russia has been considerably les-sened by the Russo-Japanese War, the Germans appear to be even more aggressive than before. These actions truly speak louder than words, but the words are not lacking either. The German Kaiser's speeches are teeming with expressions which clearly reveal the German attitude. Among many others he said at Cologne in 1897: "We have great duties in the world. There are Germans everywhere whom we must protect. German prestige must be preserved abroad. The trident belongs in our hands." In 1900, upon delegating to Prince Henry the command of the Oriental fleet, he said: "Im-perial power is sea power. The two are mutually dependent. 16 THE MERCURY. Should anyone infringe our rights, then use the mailed fist and earn your laurel wreath." To departing soldiers he used such terms as these: "Spare nobody." "Take no prisoners." "Give no quarter." Such expressions are not the mere workings of an individual's maind, but are the sentiments of a nation expressed through its chief executive. It is true, too, that Germany is the greatest obstacle to the policy of limitation of armaments and obligatory arbitration. It was with great difficulty that the German government was per-suaded to consent to the establishment of the permanent Court of Arbitration. She opposed nearly every policy advocated by England. She held strict views of belligerant rights and voted against every specific proposal of obligatory arbitration. The Germans have rejected the advances since made by the English to enter upon an Anglo-German understanding concern-ing the cost and extent of their naval programs, claiming that no formal proposal has been made and therefore no official transac-tions have followed. Since Germany was not in harmony with the proposals of the Hague Conference, there seems to be but one remedy to check the steadily growing martial spirit of the sturdy Germans, namely, an alliance between the two greatest branches of the Anglo-Saxon race, England and America. Unless some such alliance is formed, the law of "the survival of the fittest" will be the outcome; of which the fittest is the strongest, the best or-ganized, and the most unscrupulous. A NARROW ESCAPE. R. L. MCNALLY, '13. JHNEAKEY was feeling blue that night as we sat together in the lobby of The Eoyal. He awaiting the arrival of a certain well-padded person, whom he pleased to call his victim,—and very impressibly informed me would be his last one,—while I was trying to pass away the night of idleness. Sneakey started to tell me all about his intended re- THE MERCURY. 17 form, and was in the midst of a "profound resolve" with his fist in the air intending to bring it down on the handle of my chair, when the arrival of a ponderous white steam car arrested his at-tention and without a sign or signal he arose from where he sat walked over to the door where the fat and hearty autoist would have to enter. Only once did he glance back at me, and then very quickly. I thought 1 noticed a shade of distress in that glance, but dismissed the thought of the fact that Sneakey, above all, would ever shrink from a job. Sneakey followed this particular individual over to the desk and watched him register, lighting a cigarette in a cool and un-interested fashion, but carefully noticing in his mind the rooms to be occupied by this person. He didn't return to where I was sitting, a very wise thing on his part, but strolled over to the bil-liard room, where fifteen minutes later, I found him actively en-gaged in a game with a stately looking, shifting-eyed sport. I walked on through and out on the street, took a car, and was soon in my room snugly seated in my large chair, planning, and thinking I had spotted a large elegantly finished mansion across the park, occupied solely by an old gentleman of eccentric habits. his brother, two house maids, and a general utility man. Next morning after breakfast I strolled across the park to in-vestigate my intended loot and map out a course that would be sure to bring me safely to my goal. I bought a paper afterwards and nothing could be printed clearer, nor more prominent to me than the little three-lined announcement that Sneakey, the one and only friend I had to depend upon, had been intercepted in an attempt to enter the rooms of a wealthy guest and was being held for trial. Of all the news, this was the most distressing. But what could I do but accept it as a present from our dreaded enemies, the plain clothes men. I did not know what to do for tools, and to attempt such a task alone would be almost fool-hardy, and Sneakey's presence was an excellent solution to both of these quanderies. But, since he was taken into the strong arms of the police, I could do nothing else than depend on luck. It was now 10.30 A. M., and I thought I might run across an old acquaintance, but there was none I could think of, let alone trust as an accomplice. After dinner I made a list of what I t^^^m^^^m 18 THE MERCURY. was in need of and among the things I needed most was a pair of wire nippers in case I would need them. Now I knew that Sneakey had a pair so I walked over to his room, having to pass the seat of my night's work, and picked the lock. Hanging across the back of a chair was a coat made up with the lining of a smoking jacket. I quickly realized its value and took it over to a tailor's and ordered it pressed, and put into proper shape. In the pocket of this coat I found a cigar which I took as a charm for my safety because I found it in the pocket of the most valuable tool I could have possibly came across. Placing the cigar carefully in my pocket the next thing to do was to get a mate at all hazzards. Scotty kept a rather notable pool room where I had been in the habit of spending some time and where I knew I could find a collection of choicest men of my profession. On entering I could hardly believe myself when who should step up and shake my hand but Harry Musser. I hadn't seen him for years, and why, I'm sure, is not because he had fallen into the same ill luck as Sneakey. I told him all of my plans and asked him to go along and help "cinch it," but woe for my hopes; he had a job on hand at White Flains, and was leaving that night on the 11.30 boat to ge to White Plains about 2 A. M., and be safe from all view to carry out his aim. Well, this was the last hope, and I decided to go alone. I saw Harry off and returning to my room put on the coat nicely tailored, and walked across the park and on around to the rear entrance of this house. Just as I entered the hedge I heard West Hall Hedge clock strike one. Walking up to the porch I started operations by climbing the vine, since I had to dispense with Sneakey's excellent tact of pitching a rope ladder. Gaining the level of the window sill I swung across and caught hold of the sill and hung suspended until I could grasp the shutter and pull myself up so that I could place my foot against the opposite side of the window frame and gradually work myself up inch by inch until I was standing on the sill holding on to the shutters. I was starting to work on the win-dow when I heard somebody walking on the pavement. When he got opposite the place where I was he stopped, lit a cigar and gazing aimlessly about, turned his steps and walked up the gravel walk and sat down on the porch almost under me and smoked. THE MERCURY. 19 After about fifteen minutes I did not see or hear him stir, and concluded he was asleep. Much was my chagrin when I found the window pulled up tight against the upper frame. To get in was almost impossible, and to get back to where I came from, was impossible. I had to decide some way. I knew that it would be safer to get out through the house than to get past that night watchman below, so taking a small finger-nail clip from my pocket, I dig two crescent shaped holes in the window frame, and placing my fingers in them bent all my effort toward pulling it down. It yielded, and carefully lowering it, I climbed in, down on the floor and I thought noislessly over to view my room in general, when all of a sudden, the lights were turned on brightly and a small buz sounded on the wall which I knew was a signal. Then locating the door, I made for it, but was barred by a huge porpous of a man whom I concluded was the butler. I had to pass him to liberty, and being much smaller, knew a struggle would be useless. I waited until he charged, then side-stepping I gave him a lucky stroke in the stomach. He wasn't long in the fight. Throwing my hat in a corner, I ran my fingers through my hair, put the coat inside out, the cigar in my mouth, ran down to the front door, to escape, preparing lest the police should arrive before I got away. Two officers were coming down the pavement at a good speed. I did not know what to do in so-tight a place. I decided to use strategy, so assuming a horrified expression, I called to them that here was the place, and ex-plained that the old gentleman had became suddenly worse, and that I was sent by him to bring his son, who lived some distance-from the house. That story wasn't believed in full by them, and! they decided to go along with me to bring his son. The two fol-lowed me for a square, and then stopping, I reasoned that two of them should go back to the old man, and assist the butler in car-ing for him, while the other officer and I went for the son. To this they agreed, and we two sped, where, I did not know until, reaching into the pocket of this coat, my hand fell upon the wire nippers. I just happened to think of Sneakey. I knew he wouldn't be in his room so I made a short cut there and pound-ing on the door received no reply, until a doctor next door put his head outside the door and informed us that that gentleman mi^^^^^^^^^^^^mwg^^^^^^^^^^^^^m 20 THE MEECUET. had left yesterday morning and had not returned yet. Now I knew to go along back to the house would mean my arrest so I told the officer that he should go on back to assist the other officer and the butler, while I awaited until this doctor would dress and go along with me, that we would follow in a few moments. When the officer left, I feigning that I intended to wait, followed after him down to the street level and proceded over by a back street to my rooms. Next day I learned of Sneakey's sentence of two years and went around, packed up his furniture to store it. In the pro-cess of this packing I was assisted by this doctor who told me of the very strange call he had last night. THE "BACK HOME" BOY. EDWIK C. HOBBOW, '12. EE we, the great American people, interested in the farmer boy? "We are. Why should the attention of the richest, most commercial nation of the earth turn to the humble youth of sunburnt face and freckled nose "back home ?" There are several conspiring reasons which cause the lines of national interest to deflect from their normal course toward that obscure spot on the map where is growing to man-hood the average country boy. One of the first reasons, perhaps, is to be found in the fact that he is "the boy back home." Somebody has said, "God made the country, but man made the town." Well, what man made the town? It was the man from the country; and it is the man from the country who is making the town grow and prosper to-day. It is from the hay-field rather than from the gutter; from the garden rather than from the crowded quarters of the town, that men are being drafted to fight the great battle of the world's market place and public halls. The bulk of brains, the brawn, and the character of this country has come from the country; and from the country will come at least many of our big men of the succeeding gen-eration. THE MERCURY. 21 The country boy is running America to-day; his name is legion. Abraham Lincoln, the greatest monument in American history, has established a standard of idealism for all American frontier boys. President Eoosevelt was a western rancher. William Jennings Bryan, who, despite conflicting views and re-gardless of politics, is an international character, wears overalls on his Nebraska farm. Anthony Comstock, one of the greatest and best moral forces in America to-day, came from a New Eng-land farm. Homer Davenport, one of the best known political cartoonists in the country, grew up on a far western farm. And so the list may continue down along the directory of the "Who is Who"—including United States senators, merchant princes, economic, scientific and philosophic authorities; light of the bar and pulpit; writers, artists and musicians; there is no seat of the mighty where the farmer boy has not sat. If there is anybody in this whole country of ours who is a free citizen, it is the country boy. He is as free as everything about him,—the air, the sunshine, the birds, the snow. Out here in God's own country, a boy can not help growing to manhood brave and strong and clear-minded. Simple taste, simple appe-tites, a simple home, these are a wholesome curriculum for a boy's individual education. Plain food, regular hours, and plenty of healthful exercise,—these create a strong body, the only fit setting for a strong mind. The farmer boy grows up away from the atmosphere of riotous vice. He is not bred in the shadow of corporate domination and "higher ups;" he recognizes no "higher up" in this world than his Father. He is imbued with the faith that a man who dares can, and that a man who can should. He has confidence in himself, and belief in his future. That is what we by times call by one of several names: Energy, backbone, enterprise, jasm, initiative, perseverance, grit, gump-. tion. Whatever it is, it is a winnig quality,—it is power. The thoughtful men are realizing this to-day as they never-did before. Employers know it and want young men from the country; educators feel it and rejoice over the country bred scholar. The voter knows it; and the politician knows that he knows it, with the result that we get in office to-day some honest and fearless men, who stand for the best in American polities,, though tied until almost powerless. 22 THE MERCURY. It is no disgrace to have come from the country, and the boy from the country need not be afraid to apply for a job. His record is good, and nothing need stand between him and success. THE EVOLUTION OF THE BEAST. EDWARD N. FRYE, '10. |OWJST from the mountains came two beasts into a plain upon which grew a few blades of grass; they stood facing each other with snarls. Finally the battle be-gan to rage as to which should get those few blades. It became a life and death struggle, and the turmoil was great. It was a case of the survival of the fittest. The strong one con-quered and the grass was his. The other lay in the dust and gore with his life slowly ebbing away. Thus as I look out over this great country and see the strug-gle of man for life, for liberty and for progress, and then think that he is called beast and materialist, I am reminded of the story of the beasts. The charge is not wholly untrue. Man is a materialist, but a materialist by necessity, a materialist because he is a creature of society and society is warring to keep him bound. His materialism is a bread and butter problem. His materialisms are the necessities of life, nourishment of the body and a life with its comforts. The problem is how shall he pro-cure those necessities upon which his life depends, and how can he add to his daily life those comforts. These are the foremost thoughts in his mind. His hunger must be satisfied and his body clothed, likewise he must care for his wife and his children. Of course he is a materialist and what else could he be. What would give him existence? Surely not spiritualism. The life of man is made up of more or less materialistic wants. And he has been called a materialist because he is forced to center all thought on these wants. He has been called a materialist be-cause he is demanding that which by right is his and which so-ciety will not grant. He has been called a materialist because the other big beast, capitalism, is contending with him for the THE MERCURY. 23 last blade of grass. He is being driven to the very brink of de-spair with only one thought: "How can I live," and with one problem to solve: "How can I procure bread and butter." He is forced further and further to the point of starvation and still that mighty hand reaches out to grasp more from his little to swell its fortune or fill its coffers. Thus the working man is forced to lift up his voice and cry for his rights when the Ameri-can aristocracy consider him nothing more than a machine to further their interests. Whentheworkingman is reduced to a thing he becomes a materialist by necessity. He cannot lie back on the oars and pray that the Almighty God may give him bread, for then he would starve. He is therefore compelled to concentrate his energy, to rise up against such conditions and let his voice be, heard in order that he may receive that which by divine right is his. Then only when he receives that right can he turn his at-tention to the other phase of life, the spiritual side. To bring this about there must be an evolution of social condi-tions, not a revolution as the one who stands without the turmoil describes. The working man must rise up out of his present condition and let it be known that he is not a mere beast for the purpose of serving capitalistic interests and when of no more use to be turned off to starve or to be an object of charity. The capitalist, who is the real materialist, and in a sense a pragma-tist, must realize that the so-called brute is his social brother, born with all the privileges of a human being and with a soul that is equally precious in the sight of God. The capitalist must recognize that life is not a mere dream for the other fellow, but that it is a reality demanding a certain share of this world's goods to make it a joy and to prepare that soul for its rightful inheritance. This will take place when he ceases to say of his social brother: "Beast, beast," and in turn shows him his love. If the capitalist would change his perspective what a change would surely be in human affairs and in human lives. How much strife would be eliminated and how much deeper would be the spiritual life. Then man could think more seriously of things that are spiritual. The stomach of the working man would be filled and his physical wants attended to. You must satisfy those physical wants before you can hope to have him seek the wants of the soul or to develop him spiritually. 24 THE MERCURY. THE SPIRIT OF THE PLACE. HARVEY S. HOSHOUR, '10. S the autumn twilight closed in upon the old Thomaaton campus, so fraught with traditions and memories of a century's existence, there seemed to be an element of discontent, quite foreign to the place indeed, which per-meated everyone. Grant Hilsey, if the conversations which were conducted in low tones throughout the quadrangle were correct, the cause of all this discord, was throwing off his football togs in a room luxuriously furnished in every appointment. He then took a quick shower and dressed thoughtfully. Yes he was right. Something would happen tonight. Something must happen. What should he do ? Should he go to the mass-meeting or stay in his room? What was best for the college? All these ques-tions played havoc in Hilsey's mind while he was dressing and while he ate a late supper at the training table: The old chapel on the hill was that night the scene of the largest mass meeting Thomaston had ever known. Tomorrow-was the day for the "big" game with Greenvale, and the slogan of the meeting was, "Thomaston expects every man to do his duty." After speeches short and to the point by various mem-bers of the faculty, the 'Varsity men were called for one by one, and responded with short talks, promising their best efforts on the morrow. "What's the matter with Captain Hilsey?" shouted the cheer leader. The answer was an irresolute, "He's all right," amid a hubbub of hisses and jeers. The cheer leader looked aghast. "Let's see him. We want Hilsey," clamored the crowd, seem-ingly ashamed of its first action. Every one turned to the rear whence they expected Hilsey to come but there was no answer. Hilsey was not there. The captain had come into the meeting late and had sat in the rear, listening to his men as they spoke. He, too, would do his best to win. How could he lose, leading men with such spirit? Then came the jeers. He had known they must come, but he could not check the hot tears that kept swelling to his eyes. There was still one chance. He was in the rear seat and had not THE MERCURY. 25 been noticed in the excitement of the evening. H suited his ac-tion to the thought, and when the crowd turned to look for him, he had gone forth, unseen and alone. The leader shook his megaphone for silence and said in a voice that quivered just a bit, for he was a friend of the captain, "Pel-lows, tonight we have insulted one of the best captains Thomas-ton has ever known. He has picked the team with the best in-terests of the college at heart, regardless of what his enemies may say. For four years we have seen Grant Hilsey fighting for Thomaston honor. Where is the man who ever saw him betray the college. We have elected him captain, and upon him our hopes of beating Greenvale depend, and yet we hear criticisms, "improvements," and even jeers on the eve of our gratest game. It's mighty fortunate he isn't here to see this, for you know the Hilsey pride and its hard to tell what any one of us wouldn't do under his circumstances. Now fellows, lets make it so he can hear it. "What's the matter with Hilsey?" "He's all right," came back witht the roar of thunder. The dissatisfaction over the picking of the team and the captain himself seemed to be go-ing fast. "Who's all right?" Hilsey," re-echoed the crowd. "We want Hilsey," they yelled, but none appeared. The leader again motioned for silence. "Boys," he said, "one more rick-etyax for Captain Hilsey." The yell was given with a lust. All feeling was gone now in the spirit of the place which gripped every man in a way which was irresistible. With a "last long ray for the 'Varsity," the most successful mass meeting Thomas-ton had ever seen was over. When Grant Hilsey emerged from the building all seemed a confused mass. He had been publicly insulted and even jeered at. Last year, after the season which had ended by "sweeping Greenvale off the face of the earth," as the Thomastonian had it, he had been the hero of the college. He had made the run that had won for his Alma Mater, and it was quite natural that Hil-sey should be elected captain of next year's eleven. The election had been unanimous. He had come back this fall eager to pro-duce another victorious team, but the material was new and hard to get into shape. He had done his best, fairly and squarely, with the result that his associates characterized him as a deserter, for he had not chosen the, team entirely from his own "clique." 26 THE MERCURY. He was too fair for that. He was also criticized by that class of students—all too common everywhere—whose chief concern it is to kick, who are too good for everybody, yet whom nobody wants, and who still, somehow or other, exercise an influence,—probably only due to their persistency,—on every college community. The result was that Hilsey had become the most unpopular man in the college. As he walked through the campus he had grown to love, his mind was crowded to overflowing. What should he do? The Hilsey pride asserted itself. He would show them. No Hilsey could be played with in this manner. They had said that his team was "crooked." Let them improve on it. They would see that they couldn't do without Grant Hil-sey. Eevenge would be his and sweet would be his revenge. Instead of going to his room Hilsey went across the campus to his fraternity house. It too was deserted. He would send for his trunk after the game. As he sat musing on the porch the old walls loomed up before him. How he longed to graduate. But he was a Hilsey and a Hilsey never gave in. What did he care for the place anyhow? There were surely others just as good. The night train for Watauga was almost empty that night. All traffic was turned toward Thomaston for the morrow's big game. It was too late for Hilsey to go home when the train got in, so he resolved to stop at the hotel till the next day. Through-out the night and the morning his mind was in one vast whirl. He would wait till evening before going home. He remembered that all his people were at Thomaston to see the game. Some-how or other he felt that he was shirking something. Maybe he ought to go back to Thomaston even though his fellows had de-serted him. What did these unworthy sons have to do with old Thomaston anyhow ? He remembered a little essay of his on college spirit, on which he had been complimented highly. He was a Freshman then. He remembered the past three years, their ups and downs, their fortunes and misfortunes. Yes, they were happy years, all too happy but they were gone for good now. The Hilsey pride had shown itself. But that essay on college spirit kept forcing itself into his mind. That was theory he knew, rather sentimental at that. Was there such a thing at Thomaston as real live college THE MERCUKY. 27 spirit? He had done his best but did he have the spirit which could endure all for the sake of the college. Anything but gibes, he thought. But what else had he endured. He had failed at the first trial. He was a failure, a quitter, and Thomaston had expected every man to do his duty. Again the college walls loomed up in his mind. Yes, he loved them, he loved their •every stone, he loved their traditions and their lore. He looked at his watch. Could he make it? The Thomaston spirit asserted itself. He signalled a passing car, which he recognized as one of his father's. "Fast as you can to Thomaston," were his orders. It was a long ride but never for an instant did Hilsey's intentions change. There was such a thing as college spirit, Thomaston spirit. He was completely in its spell. As the car neared the campus he heard the cheer leader call, "Now then Thomaston." It thrilled his very heart. That was Thomaston, his Thomaston. "To my room," he fairly yelled to the chauffeur. The campus was de-serted. Over the green hedge which surrounded the athletic field, he could see a mass of crimson and gold. That meant Thomaston, the Thomaston he longed to fight for. It was the work of a few minutes to jump into his togs. Never was he so proud of the hugh "T" on his sweater. To think that he was so near forfeiting the privilege of wearing it. As he neared the field he heard a count—one-two-three—and then a long drawn out —nothing, all from the opposing side. His heart gave a throb. There was a chance yet. He flung off his sweater. He would show them that the Hil-sey pride was swallowed up in his college spirit. A great shout arose as the wearers of the crimson and gold saw Hilsey. They forgot enmities. He, their only hope, had come back to make them win. His judgment had been vindicated for his team had played wonderfully, and, but for a beautiful kick would have held Greenvale to no score. "Ten minutes to play," announced the time-keeper as Hilsey took his place at quarter. The team had been holding well be-fore. Now with a leader they played an aggressive game. Slowly they marched up the gridiron. Once they lost the ball, only to regain it on downs. Thomaston enthusiasm knew no bounds. There were no spectacular runs, ten yards being the greatest 28 THE MERCURY. single gain. With one minute to play a touch-down was made and the goal kicked. "What's the matter with Hilsey?" again shouted the leader. Never was such a yell heard as when they cried, "He's all right." The game was over. Again the colors of Thomaston flew high. Hilsey was late for supper again that evening. The sun was setting beyond the chapel hill with a blaze of crimson and gold, which seemed to him to be in honor of Thomaston's victory, his victory. The old chapel looked dearer than ever. In a few short months he would receive his diploma there. "It's the spirit of the place," he murmured as a crowd of students came down the street, wood in one hand and oil cans in the other. "There he is now. We want Hilsey," they cried." Yes," he muttered, as he was being hoisted upon the shoulders of his ad-miring fellows, "its the spirit of the place, the college spirit, the Thomaston spirit." I H E HE RCU RV Entered at the Postoffi.ee at Gettysburg as second-class Matter. VOL. XVII GETTYSBURG, PA., NOVEMBER, 1909 No. 6 Editor in-Chief SAMUEL FAUSOLD, 'IO. Exchange Editor G. E. BOWERSOX, 'io Business Manager PAUL S. MILLER, 'IO Ass't Bus. Managers C. M. ALLABACH,'ii S. T. BAKER, 'II Assistant Editor RALPH E. RUDISILL, 'IO Associate Editors E. J. BOWMAN, 'II C. M. DAVIS, 'II Advisory Board PROF. G. F. SANDERS, A. M. PROF. P. M. BIKLE, FH. D. PROF. C. J. GRIMM, PH. 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 IS cents. Notice to discontinue sending THE MERCURY to any address must be ac-companied by all arrearages. Students, Professors and Alumni are cordially invited to contribute. All subscriptions and business matter should be addressed to the Business Manager. Articles for publication should be addressed to the Editor. Address THE MERCURY, GETTYSBURG, PA. EDITORIALS. fore, his duty to cultivate it. THE CONYERSA- What a world TIONALIST. of meaning this word contains! What a flood of memories it brings to us! Un-consciously there leaps to the im-agination the pictures of talkers who have given us many a pleas-ant hour. The human voice is probably man's greatest gift. It is his dis-tinguishing feature. It is, there- Indeed this should be his ambi- ^■■■^^^■H 30 THE MEECUEY. tion: to be affable, clear, optimistic and pleasant; to develop a ready wit and the happy accomplishment of speaking the right word at the right time. Indeed to keep silent always is as great a fault as constant babbling. Franklin expressed the idea as follows: "As we must account for every idle word, so we must for every idle silence. Conversation is not a wooden thing; it is elastic, happy and free; it runs, hops and skips. Indeed man's greatest asset is speech and harmonious conversation between two or more should be made the supreme pleasure of life. Conversation costs us nothing in dollars and cents; it com-pletes our education; discovers friends for us and can be enjoyed at all times and in all places. Although conversation is common to all ages, we believe the golden age of youth makes most of it. The young man or woman—particularly the college man or woman—uses the gift of speech to give expression to the bright-est hopes for the future. The collegian, in fact, lives in the fuT ture and oh! what a loss it would be to him to be deprived of the pleasure of building castles in the air. Talk is the great instrument of friendship. By it as Steven-son says, "Men and women contend for each other in the lists of love like rival mesmerists. By it friends can measure strength and enjoy that amicable counter-assertion of personality which is the gauge of relations and the sport of life." Conversation generally drifts to the two great subjects, "You and I." Of course the third party may be given passing consid-eration but vain humanity can not long escape the subjective. This fact is quite noticeable in the chat of two college chums. It invariably has to with the welfare of the speakers directly or in-directly. This being the case the conversationalist should be careful to clothe his old subjects in new garments and to bring them forth from the mint, as it were, with new and ever delight-ful aspects. Yes, let us continue to talk! Let us enjoy our talks, but let us seek to find more and more ways to benefit from them. THE American business world is a rapidly flowing river. To get into this rapidly moving stream, man must hustle and not be slothful. The competitions of modern life have become so keen THE MERCURY. 31 that there are no opportunities for the lazy. Man must either work or go to the wall. In every community this fact is under-stood but too often not believed. Should not these student days be hours of industry and benefit ? Many a night is spent in folly and the following day suffers. The only real and lasting enjoy-ment in life is to be found in work. Everything which man creates decays when neglected, but nothing in nature goes to pieces so fast as man in idleness. The conditions of all our faculties and enjoyments are found in the full exercise of all our powers to the limit of their capacity. There are examples of college men ad inflnitissium whose voice touches no sympathetic chord in the activities of to-day. Their thoughts never got beyond college politics and rivalries of secret societies. They have always been idlers and now are hopeless failures. As in the lower life the busy bees have no room for the drone, so in a college community the diligent students have no room for the dilatory. Let us conscientiously answer the ever-present question would our parents approve of their money's time and benefit ? and give tireless attention to our own work and advancement and when the commencement clock strikes we shall all be ready for our liberal professions. EXCHANGES. | GAIN it becomes our pleasant duty to examine and com-ment on our exchanges. We are gratified to see so many of the former papers again appear this year; as well as many new ones. A few of the former ex-changes have not yet made their appearance, but we trust it is only a matter of a short time until we shall again have the pleas-ure of receiving them. The matter of criticism is quite a relative one; some papers choose to tear every thread of good out of productions by hostile criticism; others are too apt in praising. It has always been our custom to act the part of appreciative critics in dealing with our friends. Of course there is often a necessity to make the harsher 32 THE MERCURY. kind of criticism, but in so doing we shall always do it with a friendly spirit and trust no offense is taken. Of the few exchanges to reach our hands this year one of the best is "The Gilford Collegian;" its departments are all well ordered and literary contributions are of a high order. The ora-tion, "The Solid South," is a very pertinent production; it deals in a broad and sensible manner with the reasons of southern solidity and shows how the causes for it no longer exist and that the idea belonging to a past time should be relegated to its pro-per place by the thoughtful citizens. The story, "The Heart of a Woman," in the same issue is very clearly written and not only causes much amusement but some serious thought. The October issue of "The College Student" is filled with well written articles. "The Crime of the Congo" and "The Crucible of Life" show much preparation and skillful arrangement of material. "We gratefully acknowledge all exchanges received. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. IN this Drama of Four Year's Course, Play your part without dad's horse ; This to do is up to you With just a little tact between each yearly act, In some domain take a stroll And sell ALUMINUM for next year's Role (roll). Every summer hundreds of students make BIG MONEY selling Aluminum Cooking Utensils. For particulars address LOUIS HETZEL, Gettysburg College, GETTYSBURG, PA. THE STEWART & STEEN CO., COLLEGE ENGRAVERS, 1024 Arch Street, PHILADELPHIA. MAKERS OF INVITATIONS, PROGRAMS, MENUS, VISITING CARDS, DANCE CARDS, MONOGRAMS, CLASS AND FRATERNITY STATIONERY. P. S. MILLER, '10, Representative, Who has a full line of samples. EDUCATION The times an .1 the Schools demand that the best things shall be done and in the best manner. Watermans^FountainPen accomplishes everything that can be required of a good writing in-strument. Made to last for years of service and give its owner the satisfaction which comes with owning "the best." From all dealers. The Globe trade-mark i» our guarantee .742 Market St. San Frm 136 St. Jftinei St., Moi.trenl 12 Golden L*n«. ton-ton G Ru« A* lUnovm Paris PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. FUIOTTU^E Mattresses, Bed Springs, Iron Beds, Picture Frames, Repair Work done promptly. Under-taking a specialty. - Telephone No. 97. H. B. BENDER. 37 Baltimore Street, Gettysburg, Pa. EDGAR C. TAWNEY BAKER West Middle Street. J. B. WINEMAN, DEALER IN CHOICE FAMILY GROCERIES, PROVISIONS AND FRUITS, BOARDING CLUBS A SPECIALTY. L. WEIGAND, DEALER IN FRESH AND CURED MEATS OF ALL KINDS-Boarding Clubs a Specialty. §003^5 f^e5tQUPQDt, No. 7 Chambersburg Street. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. EMIL ZOTHE, College Emblems, Engraver, Designer and Manufacturing Jeweler, 722 Chestnut St., Phil delphia. Specialties: Masonic Marks, Society Badges, College Buttons, Pins, Scarf Pins, Stick Pins and Athletic Prizes. All Goods ordered through G. F. Kieffer. Charles S. Mumper, DEALER IN FURNITURE, PICTURE FRAMES OF ALL SORTS REPAIR WORK DONE PROMPTLY I will also BUY or EXCHANGE any SECOND-HAND FURNITURE No. 4 Chambersburg street, Gettysburg, Pa. D. J. Swartz, DEALER IN COUNTRY PRODUCE, GROCERIES, CIGARS AND TOBACCO. GETTYSBURG. —IS— OHLER BRO.'S RESTAURANT, First National Bank Bld'g. The place to eat the best Ice Cream. QUICK LUNCH and Oysters in season. Your Photographer, If not, why not? 41 Baltimore St., Gettysburg. FLEMMING I BAIR'S LIVERY, Baltimore Street, First Square, Gettysburg, Pa. Competent Guides for all parts of the Battlefield. Arrange-ments by telegram or letter. Dock Bock 257. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. WINDSOR HOTEL, W. T. BRUBAKEB, Manager. Midway between Broad St. Station and Reading Terminal on Filbert St. A convenient and homelike place to stay while in the city shopping. An excellent restaurant where good service combines with low prices. BOOMS $1.00 PER DAY AND UP. The only moderate priced hotel of reputation and consequence in PHILADELPHIA. The Modern Steam Laundry . . OF YORK . . Offers the COLLEGE STUDENTS first-class work at Special Low Prices. E. C. STOUFFER, Local Agt. C. D. SMITH, Prop. The Baltimore Medical College Preliminary Fall Course begins September ist. Regular Winter Course begins September 20th. Liberal teaching facilities ; Modern college buildings; Comfortable lecture hall and amphitheatres ; Large and complete equipped laboratories; Capacious hospital and dispensary; Lying-in department for teaching clinical obstetrics ; Large clinics. Send for catalogue. Address DAVID STREETT, M. D., Dean, N. E. Cor. Madison St., and Linden Ave., Baltimore, Md. COMPILER IMPRINT ON JOB WORK MEANS TASTY WORK CAREFULLY DONE. MENU CARDS WINDOW" POSTERS LETTER HEADS ENVELOPES DANCE CARDS TICKETS Programs of all kinds. Everything the College Man wants in Paper and Ink. Specially designed work. Latest Effects in Paper, done in Colors along lines of College Men's Associations. Catalog and Book work. The Gettysburg Compiler will keep old and new students in touch with town and college life.

COMPILER PRINT HELP THOSK WHO HELP US. The Intercollegiate Bureau of Academic Costume, Cotrell & Leonard, ALBANY, N. Y. H^1^ CAPS AND GOWNS To Gettysburg College. Lrtfnyctte, Lehigh. Dickinson. State College, Univ. of Penn-sylvania Harvard, Yale, Princeton. WeUesley, Bryn Mawr and the others. Class Contracts a Specialty. Correct Hoods for Degrees, AFTER COMMENCEMENT, WHAT? Time for the young college man to decide what line of work to take up. Employers are already taking their pick of 1907 grad-uates. You can't afford to delay, if you intend to begin work in the early summer or fall. "The College Man's Opportunity" tells what we have done and are doing for college men—what we can do for you if you intend to enter business, teaching or techuical work. Write for it today. Offices in 12 cities. Commonwealth Trust Building, Philadelphia, Pa. HOTEL GETTYSBURG, Headquarters for BANQUETS. Electric Lights, Steam Heat, All Conveniences. Free Bus to and from station. Convenient for ttt>ft««»««««* *#»*ft**n»«£#*#« ■ Essentially the instruments for criti-cal and discriminating buyers. -Super- ;}', ior in every detail of construction and 7 superb instruments for the production "j* of a great variety of musical effects "j" and the finest shades of expression. " Close Prices. Easy Terms. Old Instruments Exchanged. t WEAVER ORGAN AND PIANO CO., MANUFACTURERS, 1- YORK, PA , U S A. $r**-•?*«•:«-•^•r*—•f~-Ji)—''—ft—:!:—:.'--*;—H^fi—Pi—T-.-'---ii:-r*f^--'?*—'>*- -*i::—4- Students' Headquarters —FOR— HATS, SHOES, AND GENT'S FURNISHING. Sole Agent for WALK-OVER SHOE ECKERT'S STORE. Prices Always Right Tljfi Lutheran. Publication. Society No 1424 Arch Street, PHILADELPHIA, PA Acknowledged Headquarters for anything and everything in the way of Books for Churches. Colleges. Families and Schools, and literature for Sunday Schools. PLEASE REMEMBER That by sending your orders to us you help build up and develop one of the church in-stitutions with pecuniary ad-vantage to yourself. Address HENRY S. BONER, Sup't. T H E HE RC U R V The Literary Journal of Gettysburg College. VOL. XV GETTYSBURG, PA., OCTOBER 1907 No. 5 CONTENTS PRINCIPLE AND PRACTICE.—Junior Oratorical Oration. 2 W. A. BEKKEY, '08. MAN, THE MARVEL OF CREATION. Honorable Mention Junior Oratorical. H. M. BOWEK, '08. PUMPKIN PIE. GEO. W. KESSLER, '08. THREE GREAT PHILOSOPHERS.—Essay. Socrates.—Part I. CHARLES W. HEATHCOTE, '08. 10 SOLDIERLY QUALITIES.—Essay. MARY HAY HIMES, '08. lf> MY FIRST DAY AS TEACHER IN A COUNTY SCHOOL. 19 E. E. SNYDER, '09. OUR NATION'S DANGER.—Poem. H. D. SWANK, '11. 21 A VISIT TO SING SING.-Essay. BY 1908. 22 SCHEDULED TIME.—Essay. EDITORIALS. EXCHANGES. 2& 28, 31 THE MERCURY. PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE. Junior Prize Oration. W. A. BEHKEY, '08. THOUSAND years hence the history of the United States will be studied with an interest that shall equal if not excel that which is now manifested for Greece, Eome, or any of the nations whose history is already made. . The unparalleled rise and development of our nation is a truism. Our standing and supremacy among the other nations of the world is indeed unique. Little wonder is it that the heads of European nations grow dizzy when they see the progress of their own countries during hundreds of years equalled and excelled in a few scores of years by the American people. Of first importance to the student, then, will be this incomparably rapid development. Various prophesies and predictions have been made about the destiny of our republic. The whole of history has been scanned for a parallel of principles and practice which will indicate her ultimate character and function. The question how long our republic will endure was answered very profoundly by James Russell Lowewll: "So long as the ideas of the men who found-ed it continue dominant." To some people the character of our age seems so evident, since they themselves form a part of it, that it presents no ques-tions of inquiry. To the student who surveys carefully the principles and practice dominating and shaping the trend of our growth, there appear tendencies, various, conflicting and inconsistent to such a degree, that the scene is one of intermi-nable confusion. Among the nations of the world, none wields such power and prestige for bringing about peace, as our own When Nicholas of Russia extended a call to the nations for a world parliament at The Hague, and afterwards refused to follow the very prin-ciples which he advocated; when England, the leading nation of Western Europe was willing to block the way of international peace; when the Hague conference, the grandest ideal ever at-tempted, seemed to result in utter fruitlessness ;then it was that the United States on the occasion of the Venezuelan trouble. THE MERCURY. 3 brought back to life this grandest movement of history. When Japan and Eussia, failing to come to terms of peace, were on the point of resuming a war that was inhuman in its character, and unjustified in its object, it was again through the mediation of U. S. that peace was effected satisfactorily to all the world. But on the other hand, if our nation wields such an influence for peace, honesty, integrity of character and justice, how can we reconcile this with the inner life of our nation—with such facts &s are disclosed by the Life Insurance Investigation, the monopolists, the Capitol graft, in our own state which is but a type of what is occurring in some form or other in nearly every large city; the corruption of our politics; the startling statistics of crime; the constant strife between the different races in our own land; the lack of a public conscience in our courts of jus-tice. These glaring facts seem to indicate an utter disregard of the principles of peace, honesty, liberty, and justice, upon which our nation is founded. Statistics show that the IT. S. has the greatest criminal record of any other nation on earth. We pride ourselves in claiming that one of our great national principles is the equality of man. and we point to the 15th Amendment of our Constitution as an achievement which must outshine any enactment, decree, or legislation in the world. In practice, however, we discriminate against the negro. States are openly disavowing and nullifying the 15th Amendment by inserting in their constitutions suffer-age provisions which are in direct conflict with the spirit of the Federal Constitution. Separate coaches on lines of transporta-tion, and restriction of residence to certain portions of the city are not matters of the dim past. We dilate each year on the growing feeling of peace between the North and South, and yet when a Southerner comes to the North, he is a mark of curiosity—a rebel—alive, and in the North. It was but a few months ago when a prominent South-erner, during his visit to a wealthy shoe manufacturer of Boston was utterly embarrassed by the curiosity of the people, which reached its climax in the question from the most refined lady to the Southerner: "Since the war is over, don't you Southern-ers feel ashamed for causing it ?" We eulogise American democracy for the principles which THE MERCURY. govern her political system. Yet we have come to such a status in which it seems the majority of men are willing to abdicate the sovereignty entrusted to them, to allow a boss to dictate their votes, and all too frequently, to compromise with one fac-tion or tiie other for a price. Do we not regard our own government with too much com-placency ? A feeling' that it cannot go wrong, it has been maintained that the glory of American democracy consists in the manner in which people of the most various races and na-tions have been absorbed and adapted by the vigor of the Aiheri-ean spirit. Hugo Munsterburg says of this: "The foreign ele-ments which come of their own choice to Germany, have been as thoroughly assimilated by the monarchy as the American emi-grants by the democracy. America's whole success in that di-rection, hi' says, is determined by her geographical and economi-cal situation, but not by her form of government." We make no apology for this seeming pessimism. Such is not our view. We have no sympathy with the view that every-thing is corruption and that all the picture should be dark and threatening. The last decade has been marked by prosperity never known heroic: by progress in international relations never dreamed of in all history. There has been illgotten gain and corruption in many places. But, the abuses which in' condemn only cause the principles in which we hare such profound faith, to stand out by contrast in their full orbed glory. The questions which present themselves are these: How can the 1'. S. maintain and exert such an influence for peace and honesty, when internal conditions are so inconsistent ? If the rest of the world is really aware of the true conditions, what is the secret of our influence ? If the rest of the world is not aware, how long will it be until the corruption comes to the sur-face and our prestige falls ? We do not believe even that danger is imminent. But we must admit that the people do not want to hear and seemingly are almost unwilling to believe that our destiny as a nation is affected by forces such as these. 1'eare is not the greatest word. Honor and Justice are far greater. We must remain true to the principles which we maintain. We must endeavor to practice them universally. We cannot close our eyes to facts. We have • little time for the student or teacher of science who refuses to THE MERCURY. -open Eds eyes to the (acts of investigation which lie beneath the surface. So with the individual who refuses to recognize the •disharmony between his principles and the facts of his practice. One of the most dramatic lessons in history is Demostheness pleading with the people of Athens. Demosthenes well knew that Athens could stand only as she was true to the principles ■of the fathers. Not because they were the principles of the fathers, but because their fathers had been faithful to the message of Demosthenes to Athens remains a message to every republic—a message of life. The people in their assemb-lies applauded the fine sentiments, enjoyed the praises of the fathers, passed eloquent resolutions,—and shirked their duties. They depended upon leaders—bosses—to attend to all the affairs •of the state. "In old. days," Demosthenes said, "the people was master of its statesman. Now it is their servant." These seeming inconsistencies are only warnings directing us where our principles which are ideal might become real. If ■there can be any evident reason for our progress at home and abroad during the last six years, it is because we have a man at the head of our government who practices the principles for which the nation stands. His, the work of one man,-shows us the secret of a principle of progress—the individual. The thinker sees problems in their relations. The inconsistencies which he finds become a burden, and this very burden of incon-sistency between principle and practice gives the impulse which, leads him to their solution. THE MERCURY MAN, THE MARVEL OF CREATION. Honorable Mention, Junior Oratorical. H. M. BOWER, '08. ITII the advancement of civilization and the rapid pro-gress of modern times, the truth of the assertion that man is a wonderful piece of mechanism becomes more and more apparent. In his forward movement he leaps the chasm of mysteries, forces the strongholds of igno-rance, and surmounts the seemingly impossible. Prom the very beginning, created from the dust, guided by the Omnipotent Hand, he is by his very nature, not only a vir-tual compendium of proceeding stages of creation; but as such is an exponent of the power and wisdom and goodness of God. For in him the laws of matter are to find their interpreter, the vegetable kingdom its uses, animal and all creation its subordi-nate completion and end. "He is a being who besides being a continuous link in the chain of the divine manifestation, could,, as the creation to whom the manifestation is made, turn round and look back upon that chain and by that very act show himself to be the most important part cf it." In this new creature we behold a being capable of knowing and distinctly conscious of a three-fold element of knowledge—of himself as a dictinct ex-istence; of the finite creation to which he belongs and from which he derives his sensation; and of the Infinite Maker of both, presupposed by their existence. Still more: Ileie is a person, a being, influenced by motives and determined by will, and having a high moral end cf his own. He is a creature in whose mysterious constitution law and liberty—perfect law and conscious liberty—harmoniously co-exist. It is the universal law that all things develop gradually. Man with all his wonderful endowments, his emotion, his intellect, his will, once latent gradually arose to his present stage of in-telligence. But he possessed the germ of power which burst forth into a mighty volcano of achievement—the power of his perception, which enables him to remember and compare, the power of his imagination which, at times indeed, leads him into perplexities and errors, but without the aid of which Newton would never have passed from a falling apple to a falling moon; THE MERCURY. the power of his thought by which an inventor finds his wonder-ful analogies; the power of his will by which he determines his destinies. What mind is there large enough to grasp the great achieve-ments that man has wrought. He revels among the stars and says that they are suns. He delves into the bowels of the earth and says there is fire. Archimedes exclaimed: "Give me a place to stand and I will move the earth." Man has found a standng place and he literally moves the earth, not, it is true, from its place among the stars, but that he brings every part nearer the other, and bends the forces of nature to his own pur-poses. He crushes a ton of granite or cracks an egg with equal •ease. He lifts thousands of tons as easily as he raises a finger. The deepest valleys and the highest mountains are his play-things-— he bridges the one and tunnels the other. He makes a messenger of the lightening and harnesses vapor to his chariot. At his command the spirits of air, water, fire, and earth do his every bidding. They propel his steam ships, railway cars, and mighty energies. They make his garments; they build his houses; they harvest his crops; then illuminate his cities; for him they make ice in the tropics or oranges grow amid the snow; for him they fan heated atmosphere into cooling breezes, banish icy winds. They.flash his news around the world; carry his voice for thousands of miles; or preserve it after he is dead. What are the causes of man's progress ? His indominatable will and the gift of Immortality are the true and real causes. His will, the very image of the Divine will, which is unconquer-able, enables him to control the lower creation as well as him-self. God has given to man immortality. He leads and guides man so that he will be worthy, at His call to assume the crown ■of immortality. No wonder Hamlet exclaimed: "What a piece of work is man ! How noble in reason !, How infinite in faculty, in form and movement, how expressed and admirable ! In action how like an angel! In apprehension how like a god! The beauty of the world ! The paragon of animals !" *Baker, '08, also received honorable mention. THE MERCURY. PUMPKIN PIE. GEO. W. KESSLER. '"08. • EXT to pudding, pumpkin pie is one of the best of the toothsome inventions of our New England ancestors. The modern substitute is made of squash, and very good it often is. But s-q-u-a-s-h is a dreadful name. The man who invented it ought to have a hard shelled Hubbard hurled at his head, as Ichabod Crane was served with a pump-kin, in the "Legend of Sleepy Hollow." Pumpkin is quite a different word , whether it adorns a bill of fare, is woven into poetry, or is flattened into "pu-n-n-kin"in the vernacular. It is one of the old fashioned vegetables that has held its own among upstart rivals for one hundred years or more. Precious little help has the pumpkin had from the propagating gardeners, who are so intent on improving nature's products in other fields. The pumpkin is the same honest, homespun, self-made sort of vegetable vagabond that it was when it straggled through the cornfields and dotted the autumn landscape with spots of golden color in the pioneer days when luxuries were not necessities and wants were few. They pretend to say that the quality has de-teriorated, like some stiains of blood in men whose heads this useful vegetable has most uncharitably been made to symbolize, and that the flesh is pale and poor compared with the yellow richness of fonner years. Yet this may be only the woi k of the old-time worshippers. But when made "tine to name" in just the right way, and served before it gets cold, a pumpkin pie is a thing of beauty and a joy—while it lasts ! 1 know there is an attempt made by certain super-civilized persons to make abstinence from pie a test of refinement. Some of them haven't gastric juice enough to digest anything but tea and toast, but others are just putting on airs. I wouldn't trust some of these fellows who make a virtue of abhoring pie alone with a whole one behind the pantry door, even at 11 o'clock at night. 1 take my seat with Emerson, who, when lunching at a railroad eating house with a party of literary and scientific friends, asked them each in turn if they would ha,ve a piece of the pie before him. When all had politely declined the philosopher helped himself to a gen-erous pie«e and, beaming upon the company with his benevolent THE MERCURY. 9 smile asked: "What is pie for, gentlemen ?" Judge the diet i)v its results ! Was not our New England sage a hundred times healthier and saner with his pie than crabbed old Thomas Carlyle was with his oat meal porridge and dyspepsia ? A well made pie of the right sort is a good deal more wholesome than half of the modern messes concocted as a concession to dyspep-tics who charge upon healthful foods, the natural results of their own sin and ignorance in living without exercise, sleeping too little, smoking too much and neglecting the normal condi-tions of health. But to return to my pie. I scorn to make a cook book of this essay with my present rather scant supply of technical knowledge. But I do know that for a good pumpkin pie you want plenty of milk, just enough eggs, not a judicious sprink-want plenty of milk, just enough eggs, not too much pumpkin, a lump DI' butter and a judicious sprinkling of spices, princi-pally cinnamon and ginger—omitting, if you please, the nut-megs and cloves. The concoction when made ready for the oven, in a "bottom crust" that is tender and flaky when baked, should be about the consistency of good thick cream. Pies that cut out only a little less firm than a pine board—those that will "wobble" without breaking, like a piece of leather—and those that run about loose on your plate are alike to be avoided. About an inch and a half strikes me as a good depth for the filling; two inches is better than the miserable, thin plasters one some-times sees at boarding houses, that look for all the world like pumpkin flap-jacks. The expressive phrase, "too thin" must have come from such lean parodies on pumpkin pies. With the pastry light, tender and not too-rich, and a generous filling of smooth, spiced sweetness, a little "trembly" as to consistency, and delicately browned on top, a perfect pumpkin pie, eaten within a few hours after baking, is one of the real additions made by American cookery to the good things of the world. For the first pumpkin pie of the season, flanked by a liberal cut of creamy"cheese, I prefer to sit clown, as the French gour-mand said about his boiled young turkey—"with just two of us; myself and the turkey." Company is apt to distract from the attention—and subtract from the pie. IO THE MERCURY THREE GREAT PHILOSOPHERS SOCRATES. Parti. CHARLES W. HEATHCOTE, '08. HE ideal which the citizens of ancient Greece held in; mind was that the state should not be too large, so. that each one personally would be able to take a large share in civic affairs. The divided condition of the country made it difficult for the ideal to be realized, for in-tense rivalries sprang up continually between the various com-munities and the result was that national life was destroyed. Though confederacies were formed, nevertheless they were short-lived and in th end this rival spirit resulted in Greece losing her liberty. . Thus when Xerxes had invaded Greece with his Persian hordes, Athens and Sparta were active in repelling the invasion. Subsequent years found Athens the leader in Grecian affairs. She became weaithy and brilliant. Intense rivalry and jealousy on the part of Sparta and many other Greek states who had formed a confederacy with Athens led to an open revolt. Athens was accused of appropriating funds for her own use, which did not belong to her. In the struggle that followed Athens lost her political supremacy from which she never recovered. Al-though she remained intellectual queen of the world for years afterward. In order that the state might be strong each citizen lived pri-marily for the state. Though the state may be ever so small each citizen participated in the government in a personal and direct manner. The citizen formed and made up the leisure' class of society. The people were therefore able to devote all their time to civic, religious, intellectual and artistic pursuits, since their menial tasks were performed by slaves. The intense rivalry of various states and factions within the-state and the mountainous condition of Greece prevented a firm union. A diversity of interests sprang up. The state was unable to grow or develop. It was ideal in its conception, ■ but there was breathed into its structure an air of artificiality. The true development of the state was also hampered by the-union of their so-called protecting divinities and civic ideals: They developed all knds of fantastic ideas about gods, divinities'. THE MERCURY II and deities. The various so-called priests multiplied the con-ceptions of numberless gods. Their religion was lacking in unity and stability. Forbes.well says: "That the more stable elements in the Athenian constitution had been greatly weaken-ed, and the general aim was to make all legislation and admin-istration a reflection of the immediate feeling of the citizens, a rationalizing process in matters of faith and principle had been gaining among the more cultured Greeks, and its results had been filtering through philosophic teaching and poetry into the minds of a wider circle." Since the priests were not true guides in the religious affairs, the moral life of the people degenerated. However, the time would come when the religious and moral tone of the native would undergo a complete revolution. Poets and philosophers would seek to know and explain the mysteries of life. Specula-tive thinkers desired to know the origin of things. About (600 B. C.) Hales of Milatus begins to philosophize upon these things. After him followed Anaxmander, Heraclitus, Pytho-goras, Xenophanes, Parmenides, Zeno, Anaxagoras, and others who sought to explain the ultimate reality of things. About 450 B. C. a transition is noticed in Greek thought. The Sophist School became the leaders in Greek philosophical thought. The reasonings and teachings of the Sophists were empty and to a great measure false. Ueberney says: "In the doctrine of the Sophists the transition was effected from philosophy as cosmology to philosophy as concerning itself with the thinking and willing subject. Yet the reflection of the Sophist extended only to the recognition of the subject in his immediate individual character, and was incompetent, therefore, to establish on a scientific basis the theory of cognition and sci-ence of morals, for which it prepared the way. The chief rep-resentatives of this tendency were Protogoras the Individualist, Gorgias the Nihilist, Hippias the Polymathist, and Prodicus the Moralist. These men were followed by a younger genera-ton of Sophists, who perverted the philosophical principle of subjectionism more and more, till it ended in mere frivolity." Furthermore the Sophistic teachings led to a confusion of thought, a corruption of morals and skepticism. Selfishness and self-conceit everywhere were prevalent. Men claimed to know everything, when in reality thy knew nothing. An atmosphere 12 THE MERCURY entirely foreign to the earlier days of the Athenians hung over the city. The citizens were unable to receive justice at the courts. Wealth, luxury, indifference, immorality, atheism and selfishness had resulted in bringing chaos to Greek life. A cricis, faced the people. Who would arouse the citizens from their leth-argy ? To whom could they look for help ? They were in-different to their condition. This work was to be started and accomplished in part by Soc-rates. Kitch el I says: "There were great evils existing in men and society about him. To those evils he was particularly sen-sitive, owing to the peculiar quality of his intellectual and moral nature. For those evils he was persuaded that he had the only and sufficient remedy. The application of the remedy in order to overcome those evils was the work of his life. His great aim was to make men care, not so much for their bodies, or money, or office, as for righteousnes, and virtue and the things of the-snul." He spent his time among his fellow-citizens, in the con-stant and public quest of truth, with them and for their good. He was convinced that as only could he do his part in counter-acting the evils in men and society about him." Socrates was born at Alopece near Athens about 469 B. C. His father, Sophoniscus, was a sculptor and his mother's name was Phaenarete. His father was a freeman and was in humble circumstances. At an early age he was instructed in gymnas-tics, lyric poetry (JKOWEK^)" and literary art. Tradition, says that some one gave him sufficient money to attend a special course of lectures given by a rhetorician in mathematics, logic and ethics. For a time he followed the art of his father, but not with very mueh success. He was dissatisfied with this profession and at length abandoned it to devote all of his time to phi-losophy. However to live in Athens in the days of Socrates was an education in itself. He lived at the time of the confederacy of Delos, the great poet Pindar, and the three brilliant dramatists, Aeschyus, Sophocles and Euripides. It was the great age of Pericles. Athens was the intellectual-queen of the world. He saw the great development Athens was making. He was also conscious of the immorality and skepticism which was prevalent everywhere. Without a doubt as he contemplated and reflected. THE MERCURY J& upon the condition of his beloved' city, lie realized how great a mission he had to fulfill. During this period the Sophists, Pro-tagoras and Gorgias, lived and taught, and it is very likely that Socrates attacked them and argued with them in regard to the-principles they advocated and taught. The mind of Socrates, as his personal appearance, was unique. Kitchell says: "That his eyes projected like a crab's, his nos-trils were upturned like an ape's and his lips were thick." He was independent in his thought. In his conversation with men. he sought to find out the relation of things. His mind was keenly analytic. The principle that governed his teaching was "Know Thyself." • He had wonderful control over his body and mind. As Soc-rates so St Paul had this power as is illustrated in his letter to the Corinthians (i Cor., IX, 26, 27)—so fight i as not heating the air, but I buffet my body and bring it into bondage. His: remarkable fortitude was revealed in the military expedition to Potidaea in 432 B. C. At this time he was in the prime of life. The winter was severe and the food supplies were short and the soldiers suffered intensely. But Socrates went for days without food and went about very thinly clad and marched in his bare feet over the snow and ice. He also took part in the battle of' Delium, Amphipolis and Arguinsal. In these battles he exhibi-ted the same moral courage as at Potidea when he rescued Al-eibiades from the enemy at the peril of his own life. Of the home life of Socrates very little is known. Late in> life he married Xanthippe. Several sons were born to them. Xanthippe's fame as a common scold is proverbial. However, she had much to contend with. Socrates was very seldom at home and did not provide very well for the wants of his family. For days at a time and perhaps for weeks Xanthippe and her hungry children saw very little of Socrates. He was engaged and interested in nothing else than his great philosophic mis-sion. Tradition says that when the needs of the family became too apparent Socrates would make some piece of sculpture and sell it and give the proceeds to Xanthippe to provide for the famished household. Socrates' wants were few and he got the-necessaries of life wherever it was possible. It is very likely that his friend, admirer and pupil, Crito, did much toward sup-porting his family. Perhaps some of the cross things she may 14 THE MERCURY have said to Socrates may be overlooked. It is seen that Socra-tes was more interested in his work than in his home life, as many great men have been. He felt that he had not only a mission to carry out but that God had called him to do this particular line of work. Every-where he came in contact with men. He knew and understood human nature. He was ever ready to question men upon their knowledge of life. He was sincere in his convictions. He loved Athens but he pointed out the wrong views of life her citizens held. He was in the quest of truth and he was ready to learn from every source and he was always willing to impart truth to his hearers. He was practical. He wanted living con-trol with men of action and reflection. Thus he was different from the thought uttered by Wordsworth : "One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good Than all the sages can." Socrates believed in the divinities which were wworshiped by the citizns of Athens. Every moyning lie offered prayer and sacrifice to the rising sun. He believed that the gods took an active part in the af-fairs of men. From his childhood he claimed to be guided by a voice. He obeyed that voice implicitly and he always listened to be guided by it. This voice he termed the Sai^oviov arj/xilov This voice revealed to him his mission as a philosopher. He be-lieved it to be the voce of God. He was guided by it only in regard to the future actions. Thus Fisher well says: "Socrates asserted the doctrine of theism, and taught and ex-emplified the spiritual nature of religion. It is true that he be-lieved in 'gods many and lords many.'" But he believed in one supreme, personal being, to whom the deepest reverence was to be paid. He taught the truth of a universal Providence. "He was persuaded," says Xenaphon, "that the gods watch over the actions and affairs of men in a way altogether different from what the vulgar imagined; for while -these limited their knowl-edge to some particulars only, Socrates, on the contrary, extend-ed it to all; firmly persuaded that every word, every action, nay THE MERCURY even our most retired deliberations, are open to this view; that they are everywhere present, and communicate to mankind all such knowledge as relates to the conduct of human life." He had only one prayer, that the gods would give him those things that were good of which they alone were the competent judges. \'o service is so acceptable to the Deity as that of a pure and pious soul. With Socrates a new era begins in philosophy. He knew his-, knowledge was limited and he knew how far to proceed and that made him the great man of his age. His influence and power over men was striking. His command was, "Follow me and thou shalt learn." Thus, as Socrates taught and questioned all with whom he came in contact, he started to get at the basic principle of all knowledge. He worked with concrete examples and although many of them were crude and simple, nevertheless they served his purpose. He studied the soul and strove for the improvement of man's moral nature. His method was entirely introspective. Xeno-phon tells us that he endeavored to have his pupils distinguish between "what was pious; what impious; what honorable; what base; what just; what unjust; what wisdom; what folly; what courage; what cowardice;" etc. i6 THE MERCURY SOLDIERLY QUALITIES. MAST HAT HIKES, '08. HOM of men do the people as individuals or as a nation love and revere so mueh while living or pay such honor to when dead as the true soldier ? To the . heart of the small boy in childhood the game which is perhaps the most delightful is that of "playing soldier," and when lie grows older lie reads with admiration of the brave lives of warriors and of the worthy deeds-of knights and, at school lias his taste of hero-worship. What makes the true soldier what he is, what are the qualities which distinguish him 'i If we were to paint our ideal soldier—ideal in every way— the picture would show a man tall, well-built, and impressive, of powerful strength, whose brow shows intellect, and whose eyes though keen are kind and glow with the light of a mighty and noble purpose. The lines in his tanned and weatherbeaten face which is alight with enthusiasm, reveal the strong determination and endurance of the one who overcomes. His whole appear-ance impresses us with his remarkable power in things physical, mental, and moral. He is physically perfect, and, mentally, he is a man of keen-sightedness and wise decision. However these physical and mental traits are not essential for the making of a true soldier. The qualities which are most distinguished as soldierly are the moral ones. One could lie one of the truest soldiers even though not physically or mentally gifted;'for after all the moral battles are the greatest tests. One of the first soldierly qualities to be brought into play is that of patriotism ; however, this must signify devotion to duty. The love of his country leads one to give up much, but not un-less it proves his duty, does the true soldier seek war. There is nothing shallow or fleeting about his patriotism. In the camp the true soldier is distinguished by his honorable-ness. His respect for the cause which is his goal is too great for him to forget himself and his duty. Everything must be con-ducive to the end which he seeks, at least not detrimental to it. The cause is worthy of his risking suffering and death, therefore it is worthy of an upright life. He is truthful and faithful to any trust; holding his honor dearer than his life. When hard- ? 1 i THE MERCURY >7 ships come he is patient and conquers himself so far as to stifle all complaints. He is unselfish, thinking always of others and considering their welfare before his own, even denying himself necessary food at times of short rations in order that another may have a better fare. When he goes to battle he faces the enemy with bravery, not that brute courage which is a "free gift of the gods," but that kind which is inspired by duty, which enables a man to approach the fire though his knees tremble so that he can hardly stand. He fights, not because he hates men, and enjoys felling them, one after another, but because his sense of duty compels him and makes him say with Luther: "Mere 1 stand, I cannot do other-wise." One of the essential characteristics of a soldier in battle is obedience to authority. He must learn to obey without question the one who has the right to command, and this obedience as well as everything else which he does must be prompt and accur-ate. This quality of promptness is, also, a very necessary thing for the soldier, for the delay of a few seconds has often been the cause of the destruction F much life and of heavy losses. The soldier is never at his best unless he has perfect confidence in his commander, for prompt obedience is like the power which naturally springs up under this as the warm spring sunshine.' The true soldier must be a hero doing great deeds if the oc-casion is offered, but doing them always'quietly, unostentatious-ly. He has been brave and he rejoices if he is permitted to go still farther and to give to duty a richer offering, an act of hero-ism. Xext I would mention two qualities whose names when read seem to stand for two extremes, enthusiasm and endurance; for the former seems so full of life and the latter so stolid, almost dead. However the former may impart life to the latter. En-durance is a very essential soldierly quality. Battles are often, indeed nearly always won through the endurance of the soldiers. Enthusiasm is the oil which makes the steady flame of endur-ance grow strong and last as well as excites new energy. The soldier's enthusiasm encourages his comrades to make greater and more effective efforts. Mercy has not generally been associated with the grim coun- THE MERCURY. tenance of Mars, but I believe that the true soldier is merciful. Since he is fighting against a bad cause, not against men, he must be as merciful as possible to his prisoner if he gets control of any, and, in the olden combats, honor forbade the one par-ticipant to strike the other while he was down. Dina Gibson represents in one of his pictures the characteris-tic of the present day soldier, who sits, whole and strong before a veteran of bygone days who had then been deprived of several limbs, recounting with evident relish tales of the terrors he has just experienced, the very recital of which .brings horror to the old man's face. This quality does not belong to the true soldier, as the picture may help to illustrate. A true soldier at home when he tells of the brave deeds of the war invariabty omits, his own share in the glory. The true soldier possesses the quality of modesty—he has done deeds which speak for themselves, he need not boast. So, I have given some of the qualities which are necessary for a true soldier to possess, the qualities which I consider most be-coming to a soldier, and in that sense soldierly. Especially would I emphasize those which may be found in the persons around iis who are fighters in silent battles of which the world seldom dreams. THE MERCURY 19 MY FIRST DAY AS TEACHER IN A COUNTRY SCHOOL. E. E. SNYDEH, '09. XE bright autumn morning, some few years ago, after receiving much good advice from my father and many admonitions from my mother, I set out to walk about five miles to a little country school house to spend my first day as a teacher. It was a beautiful autumn morning; the sun throwing its first firey gleams across a distant eastern mountain, the light of which danced and glimmered on the many colored leaves of the forest through which I passed; the rustling of the corn in the Held just beyond; the noisy chattering of the scolding squirrel; the frequent noisy flight of the quail and pheasant, were enough to arouse one to a more than ordinary interest in the life and beauty about him, but I saw them not, or heeded not, for my thoughts and fancies were all centered on that little white school house which I had never seen. 1 a 1 rived at the school house about 7.30 A. M. and at once began to sum up my duties and to speculate upon my chances for fame amid such surroundings. I found that the school house was situated in an old field partly covered with shrubby pines, locusts, and wild grape vines. It was about two miles to the borne of the nearest pupils and about half a mile from any traveled road. To a more experienced mind the impression would have been anything but favorable, but I was blind to everything unfavorable, and was well pleased with the surround-ings. Taking from my pocket a ring that contained four or five keys I immediately opened the door, and began to examine the in-terior of the school house. I found a room about twenty by thirty feet with one row of desks on each side, and a few others scattered promiscuously around. A slate blackboard ran across the room and immediately in front of this was the teacher's desk and chair. I at once directed my steps thither, sat down on the chair, made a careful survey of the entire room, and felt, for the first time the dignity and power of one in authority. About 8 A. M. the pupils began to arrive; I at once talked to them, and endeavored in every way possiblel to gain their re-spect and friendship. This was not hard to do; for there were 20 THE MERCURY only six of them and they were all bright, mischievous children, four hoys and two girls. When 9 o'clock arrived, we were already fast friends and our real work began. I rang a large bell, which was altogether un-necessary, and once more walked forward to the teacher's desk. After reading a chapter from the Bible 1 attempted to make my opening speech. It was a very brief one, and I was never able afterward to recall what 1 said; but I noticed that the pupils seemed to be getting restless and I thought I had better try some other means of instruction. Accordingly I unlocked a small book-case in one corner of the room and began to distri-bute the books. This, under ordinary circumstances, would have required but a short time; but we spent fully one hour at it, and, by the time we were done, it was time for recess period. After recess we began our class work and the remainder of the forenoon was spent in assigning lessons and arranging a pro-gram. The noon hour was spent gathering chestnuts from some large trees nearby. At 1 o'clock we returned to the school house eager for the afternoon's work. After a series of recita-tions, another recess period and then another period of recita-tions, we found it was time to dismiss, which was immediately done, and my first day's school was over. THE MERCURY OUR NATION'S DANGER. \. 1). SWANK, 1911. United States ! Thou land of lands ! Where once the savage Indian roved. Through forests dense, o'er desert sands, The rude primevial dweller moved. From this vast waste with Time's sure aid, By Culture's and Invention's hands A great republic, grand, was made! And year by year resourceful mines (live forth their rich, unstinted ore. Our fields, our woods of oak and pines, All yield to us their plenteous store ! Our land extends from sea to sea, With plain, broad vale, high hill, rich field, We hold fair isles by us set free, A land which seals and gold doth yield ! Material wealth, abundant ours! But heed ! Success may be a bane, Unless man's soul be pure as flowers And he from guile and greed abstain. Anon comes some calamity, And man is moved by conscious dread, Lest, lacking fellow-amity, Just chast'ning fall upon his head. Take warning from the earthquake's force,. The flood, the dread volcano's fire, That men below have no recourse, ", And cannot flee their Maker's ire. 21 Beware ! Great land, lest thou some day Shouldst sink before material glare, And should'st to gold thy homage pay,, Unlieedful how thy Soul doth fare. Keep us from greed, 0 God, we pray, Let mammon not our actoins sway \ 22 THE MERCURY A VISIT TO SING SING. BY .1908. FEW years ago I had occasion to visit Osining and had an opportunity of visiting Sing Sing Prison. It is unique in more respects than one. Thirteen hundred men breakfast and dine together "in the mess hall, the largest eating room in New York state. The prison workshops turn ont the refuse cans and ash i arts used by the Street Clean-ing; Department of New York City. The mats at the entrance to the Capitol and State House at Albany are made by the pris-oners, and they manufacture the uniforms worn by the officials of the various state institutions. The workshops are hives of industry. They supply every-thing the men wear, from the caps on their heads to the shoes on their feet. 'Hie sheets they sleep on and the quilts that cover them come from the hosiery department. They make the towels that dry their hands and the brooms that sweep the prison floors, Cratches, wardrobes and typewriter desks are manufactur-ed in the cabinet department. The bread they eat, their soup, meat, potatoes and coffee are prepared by prisoners assigned to kitchen duty. Even the classes1 in school are taught by men ce-lected through the head teachers. A chosen few edit and print the prison paper, Star of Hope. The txtiipation of a new prisoner is recorded in the warden's office. He is then assigned to the department in which his tal-ents will be best employed. It is no easy matter for the warden to determine where he shall utilize some of the new-comers. Suppose a trapeze performer or a manufacturer of fireworks should come to the prison. Are they fitted for the mat depart-ment ? What shall be done with a theatrical agent, a coal dealer and an architect ? These are some of the problems that the warden must solve. Places must also be found for letter tamers, hankers, journalists, art dealers, physicians, railroad conductors, insurance agents, musicians, silk merchants, police-men, nurses, messengers, florists, stenographers and grocers. If the new arrival is without a trade or profession he may ehoose his work. The, most popular departments are the knit-ting and hesiery and ihat where the mats arc made. Two Iron- THE MERCURY. 23 dred and thirty-two men are employed in these departments, or nearly a third of the entire number at wort in the different shops. In the mat department the beginner is set at work braiding the rope. The men are seated on chairs and stools, they are in their shirt sleeves, and soon learn to make good head-way. They tie the ends of the ropes to pegs on the wall while the loose mass falls to the floor nea"rby. With a dexterious twist of the hand they braid the rope in a heavy coil, winding it on a piece of wood. The coil goes to another branch of the department and here it is woven over frames into its final form. Bristle mats are also manufactured. The men are seated before upright frames and weave the rope back and forth into the compact form in which the mats are sold. Thousands arc dis-posed each year to the various public buildings throughout the state. One of the most interesting shops is that where the shoes are made. There are eighty-two men in the various sections of the department and they turn out better boots and shoes than are sold in the cities. One set of men makes lasts, while another cuts the leather into shape. In the sewing room the second stage is gone through withjthe men are seated on theeir benches and work as cheerily as if they were in a factory. The room is com-fortably heated and no one wears his coat during working hours. A pleasant effect is gained.by the sunlight which streams in through the windows, lighting np the large room. It has a cheerful influence on the men as they talk and work. Upstairs in the polishing department the shoes receive their final touch, and are then placed in the stock room. The enormous total of 25,000 pairs of shoes, slippers, and boots indicates the fine show-ing of that branch in one year. The clothing department is the noisiest of all the shops. Great piles of clothing are scattered on the tables up and down the room. The material is cut, hemmed and sewn in the'most skillful manner. In another room the hand sewing is carried on. Caps and overcoats are made in addition to suits. The men do all the work, from the handling of the raw bolt of cloth until the finished product is ready. Their own clothing is gray, without stripes if they are serving their first term. Two stripes-close together indicate "second term" men ;three stripes show 24 THE MERCURY. that the prisoner has been in jail twice before. A red bar on the sleeve means that its wearer has one year of good behavior to his credit. Additional bars are added while the mam's record is satisfactory until the fifth year, when he gets a star. That is a mark of confidence, and he gets many privileges which are not granted to those who have disregarded the rufes. He may buy extra tobacco, cigars and the daily pa-pers. Two or three stars are Seen on some of the prisoners sleeves, and the scheme is carried out to the termination of the sentence. More than ordinary interest attaches to the mattress depart-ment. It is in this branch of the prison that a noted convict is at work. He is serving out his life sentence by keeping the books of the shop. He also keeps track of the output of the sash and door department. An allied indiistry is that where the wood carving is carried on. Beautiful examples of what the men have done in that line are shown in the warden's office. Few are aware that there is a prison newspaper, which is en-tirely the product of the inmates. They do all the work inci-dental to the writing of the matter, setting the type and print-ing the paper. There is modem machinery and every facility in tire way of presses and type. It is fittingly named the "Star of Hope," and is a-means of intellectual improvement to a great, many men. They readily admit, it is said, that they have been helped and trained by their efforts to supply contributions,- some of which are particularly interesting. General news items occupy the remainder of the pages. The cleanliness of the kitchen would delight any housewife: The utensils, tables, and floors are as neat as wax. The im-mense ovens are in the rear and in another part of the great kitchen is a long cooking apparatus, with large boiler shaped vessels for making coffee and ovens for roasting meats and po-tatoes. It is no small task to prepare food for 1300 men, and the kitchen force is one of thee largest and most efficient in the prison. For the morning and midday meals the men are marched from their cells and workshops in companies, to the large mess hall. Every one faces in one direction. Fun and laughter is the order cf the meal, and there is no disposition on the part of THE MERCURY. 25 the guards to interfere unduly with the men. The evening meal is at half-past four, immediately after which thee men are lock-ed in their cells. In addition to the plain and wholesome food of the prison, dainties, such as fruit and pastry, are allowed to the trusted inmeates. Their friends may send these in or permission is given them to buy outside the prison walls. On Sunday all work is suspended. At half-past eight the men assemble in the chapel for devotional services. There is a first rate volunteer choir and addresses are made by the chap-lain and visitors. Even the small pipe organ which is used in chapel was made by one of the prisoners and is played by him. It is not an easy matter for a prisoner to escape from Sing Sing Prison for it is well guarded on all sides. The prison is situated on the very edge of the Hudson River which forms a very strong natural hindrance to those who wish to escape in that way. In addition to this there are guard houses on every side of the prison and at each' corner and even visitors are chal-lenged by the guards. A visit to Sing Sing Prison is both interesting and instruct-ive. I write this brief article with the intention of giving you some idea of the way in which the state prisoners are treated. 26 THE MERCURY. SCHEDULED TIME. S. FRANK SNYDEK, '09. BEEMAN HUNT has said, "The best laid plans, the most important affairs, the fortunes of individuals, the weal of nations, honor, and life itself are daily sacrificed because somebody is behind time." The question of time is one of the greatest importance to eacli individual, because our success in life largely depends upon what use we make of the golden moments that have been en-trusted to us. And the question is only to be decided once, as time that is lost cannot be recalled and invested in some other way, but once spent means forever. In this day of competition in every department of life, he who is not upon the scene of action at the scheduled hour has very little chance for success. The merchant who is careless about opening his store at the proper hour in the morning will lose custom. The manufacturer who promises to have a piece of work done for a customer at a certain time and then fails to have it at the time promised must suffer the loss of the custo-mer's confidence and possibly his patronage. To draw an ex-ample of the same principle from our college life, if the profes-sor comes to class more than five minutes after the clock strikes he is almost sure to fail to teach that hour. On the other hand the teachers insist that the students come promptly to each reci-tation at the scheduled hour for at least two reasons: 1st, If the recitation is to be conducted successfully, each member of the class must be present and the work commenced at once. The student that comes in late loses a part of the recitation and also disturbs the class. 2nd, The man who will'be successful in the larger school of life must learn to meet each engagement at the appointed hour. In college is the place to acquire this habit which will contribute so much to success. The successful business man carefully estimates the gain on each dollar that he has invested, so we should carefully estimate the gain that we receive from each hour of invested time. As we study the lives of those men whose names are written high amo^g the heroes of the cr-4!\ wc fr.d *hat b- making the most of time they have been enabled to reach such high attainments. THE MERCURY. 27 Abraham Lincoln by using each golden minute of his early life to an advantage acquired the power of body and mind which enabled him to stand at the head of a great nation and lead it successfully through the dark hours of war. A student being asked by a friend why he did not read more good literature replied, "I have not time." Said his friend, "You have all the time there is." Time is given to everyone alike. But why do some students seem to have time for all kinds of work: athletics, literary society, Y. M. C. A., etc., while others have not. Longfellow explained it when he wrote: "The heights of great men reached and kept Were not attained by sudden flight. But they while their companions slept Were toiling upward in the night." .Some time ago in one of the western cities a man was seen niching down a street at break-neck speed trying to catch a train. You may ask the question did he get there in time. The answer is no. Then you may ask why, was he not going fast enough. And the answer is yes, he was going fast enough, but lie did not start in time. Is this not the frequent experience of everyone? Often when we are rushed with our work, is not the real trouble due to the fact that we have not started in time? The men who have accomplished the most in their lives are they who have recognized the importance of the present, the great principle of the now. It is not for us to worry about the failures of the past or be apprehensive about the future; but get right into the line of duty and fill our place in.life faith-fully day by day. I K E HE RCU RV Entered at the Postoffice at Gettysburg as second-class Matter. VOL. XV GETTYSBURG, PA., OCTOBER 1907 No. 5 Editor in-Chief EDMUND L. MANGES, '08 Exchange Editor ROBERT W. MICHAEL, '08 Business Manager HENRY M. BOWER, '08 Ass't Bus. Managers LESLIE L. TAYLOR, '09 CHARLES L. KOPP, '09 Assistant Editor MARKLEY C. ALBRIGHT, '08 Associate Editors PAUL E. BLOOMHART, '09 E. E. SNYDER, '09 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 contri-bute. All subscriptions and business matter should be addressed to the Business Manager. Articles for publication should be. addressed to the Editor. Address THE MERCURY, GETTYSBURG, PA. EDITORIALS. Another school year GREETING lms very favorable and promising conditions. To the student body, more especially the new men, the MERCUEY extends its most hearty gjeetings and best wishes. Those of us who have been at school for sonic time can appreciate what great oppor-tunities we have had. Some of us, no doubt, all of us, will have to say, but with regret, tbatwe THE MERCURY. 29 have not used them to the greatest advantage. To some, the college course has meant more than to others simply because those who have received the greatest benefit have been those who have applied themselves most. Let us say at this point to the new men that college is going to mean to them just as much as they make it mean. The whole question rests with each indi-vidual. This observation has been made before, but in our estimation, we feel that it may he used again to advantage. Every man who has the idea that he will receive an education by merely going to college is mistaken. It is true he will receive something that he may call an education bnt the term will have to be considered in a very narrow sense. Anyone with any amount of training will realize that knoyledge is infinite. Let each one of us take an introspective view and see how much we know compared to what it is possible to know. We can think of no suitable comparison. To say it is like a drop of water compared to the ocean is putting it mildly. Realizing that diligent application is going to mean much in our education let us all put forth our best efforts for an excellent training. THE BEGINNING No longer riUI we> tue members of the class OF THE END of 1908, anticipate another year in college; no longer can we rely upon next year to accomplish what we have failed to accomplish during the present year. A few years since we entered these halls with the ambition to do our work well, but the most of us have worked along unconcernedly, car-ing foi the present only, paying but little attention to the past and letting the future take care of itself. But now we are facing the stern realization that we have entered upon the be-ginning of the end of our college careers. There remains but one short year in which to complete our college education. Now is the time to take a retrospective view into the golden past and compare it with the future which, before seemed dim and distant, now looms up before us as something near at hand to be reached only too soon. It has been wisely and justly said that the Senior in college is one who knows and knows that he knows. Above all he should know himself; know wherein he has failed and in what respects his education has been neglected. Let each individual member of the class learn what phase of 3° THE MERCURY. his education he lias slighted and at once make strenuous efforts to accomplish the desired results. Our last year at college is here with a great opportunity. Let us seize upon this opportu-nity with all the vigor and energy that we command. Let us make the last lap "the embodiment of dash and vigor." Com-mencement will soon he a matter of history. Then, shall we recall our college days with a spirit of regret or shall we '-dwell upon memories" of faithfulness and sincerity in our college duties ? Let it be said of noone that he is a college man in name only, and little deserving of the title. THE MERCURY. EXCHANGES. 3i ITH the opening of college we have j>repared our desk to welcome the first numbers of our old friends,"The Exchanges." We hope also to receive many new ones. And we ask all to help us in making our pa-per by their criticisms, and that our criticisms of other papers may be received as they are intended for the benefit of the paper and writer. Hoping to hear from all our old "Exchanges" and new ones, we wish you all a successful year. The new cover of "The College Student" makes a big im-provement and also the arrangement of the material add to it. "Nemesis," of the October number, is a well written article and shows much thought and preparation. The poem entitled "The Picture," in the October number of the "Augustana Observer" is a well written article. * * * * We have received several others which are making a good start, among them are the "Otterbein Aegis," "Drury Mirror," "Sta teCollegian," "Dickinsonian" and "Crimson and White." PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. Fl/fOTTt/^E Mattresses, Bed Springs, Iron Beds, Picture Frames, Repair Work done promptly. Under-taking a specialty. - Telephone No. 97. X3I. ZB_ ZE3er3.a.er, 37 HalHmort St., : : : : : : Gttlyhnrg; I'a 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- I). A. I«ii|>p" L. E. Eiiterline. THE "R k E" STORE 36 Baltimore Street, PT'TTV^T^TTP Cr PA Next Citizens'Trust Company, WJll 1 1 I WC U *UU, lA. SUNDAY SCHOOL LESSON HELPS AND SUPPLIES, P. ANSTADT & SONS, Publishers, Book and Job Printing of all Kinds Write for Prices YORK, PA. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. THE BEST PEN FOR COLLEGE MEN There's no pen that gives such all-round satisfaction as Conklin's Self-Filling Fountain Pen. It's the best pen for College Men. When an ordinary fountain pen runs dry in the middle of a word, it means you've got to stop right there, hunt up a rubber squirt gun, fill ycur pen to overflowing, clean both pen and dropper, wash your hands, and then endeavor as best you can to collect your lost train of thought. It's different with CONKLIN'S .SSSb FOUNTAIN PEN "THE PEN WITH THE CRESCENT-FILLER" To fill, just dip it in any ink, press the Crescent-Filler, and the Conklin is filled and ready to write instantly. You can't over-fill it Hence no inky fingers, no loss of time, no ruffled temper. The feed of the Conklin is No waiting for ink to come—no jerking—no slips, balks or blots. Leading dealers handle the Conklin. If yours does not, order direct. Look for the Crescent-Filler and refuse substitutes. Prices, $3.00 and up. Send at once for handsome new catalog. THE CONKLIN PEN CO., 310 Manhattan Building Toledo, Ohio. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS EMIL ZOTHE COL^G S!EM3 ENGRAVER, DESIGNER, AND MANUFACTURING JEWELER 722 Chestnut St, Phila. SPECIALTIES : MASONIC MARKS, SOCIETY BADGES, COLLEGE BUTTONS, PINS, SCARF PINS, STICK PINS AND ATHLETIC PRIZES. All Goods trdered through G. F. Kieffer, CHARLES S. MUMRER, iu:.n.i:n IJV TTTTT? TTTTTTT? T j. H- 8°Hep, 115 Baltimore St., near C urt House GOOD WORK GUARANTEED. —IS— Your Photographer ? If not, why not? 41 BALTIMORE ST., GETTYSBURG, PA. 8EFT0N i FLEMMING'S LIVERY, Baltimore Street, First Square, Gettysburg, Pa. Competent Guides tor all parts of the Battlefield. Arrange-ments toy telegram or letter. Lock Box 257. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. The Most Popular College Sc>ngs A welcome gift in any borne. The Most Popular College Songs % .50 50 New College Songs - .'.0 Songs of ALL the Colleges 1.50 Songs ofthe WESTERN Colleges 1.25 Songs ofthe EASTERN Colleges l.Si SCHOOL Songs with COLLEGE Flavor - .!0 Songs ofthe Flag and Nation - .50 100 New Kindergarten Songs . - - New Songs for College Glee Clubs 1.00 -!C New Songs for Male Quartets - .50 Songs of the University of Pennsylvania 1.5ti Songs of the University of Michigan - 1.S5 Songs of Washington and Jefferson College - l.ar. Songs of Haverford College - 1.26 New Songs and Anthems tor Church Quartets, {Eleven Numbers) each .10 to .30 HINDS, NOBLE & ELDREDGE, Publ shcrs 31 -33 35 West 15th St. New York City COMPILER IMPRINT ON JOB WORK MEANS TASTY WORK CAREFULLY DONE. MENU CARDS. WINDOW POSTERS. DANCE CARDS-LETTER HEADS, ENVELOPES, TICKETS, Programs of all kinds. Hverythirtg the College Man wants in •-•aper and Ink. Specially designed work. Latest Effects in Paper, done in Colors along lines of College Men's Associations. Catalog and Book work. The Gettysburg Compiler will keep old and new students in touch with town and college life. L

The Mercury December. 1895 ADVERTISEMENTS. Eagle H°tel, 0) >- IS si ♦ I e 9 ©©ttysburcj, IPa. W. T. ZIEGLER, PROPRIETOR. THE CHARLES H. ELLIOTT CO., Carriages for the Battlefield can be secured at the office. John fl. Minnigh^ onfeetionepxj ^|©e^peam, OYSTERS Stewed and Fried. No. 17 Baltimore St. S. A, Fl^OXEL'S •illiarcL M Wool WiOmtiB BdLTIMOQLE ST •*P©NSOSB MYBfiS,^ WAT6HMAKER AND rTEWELER, Gettysburg Souvenir Spoons, College Souvenir Spoons, No. 10 Baltimore Street, GETTYSBURG, PENN'A. ''{mm &C;0" Hats and Gent's Furnisher, 33 North Third Street, Opera House Block, HARRISBURG.PA. Latest Styles in ^£&v Sttj*»Mt, R M. ELLIOTT'S IT. B.—Stiff Hats undo to Fit the Head in two minutes. Eckenrode &* Earner, DEALERS IN Iptresto ieefc'Vealc (karat,, Pork5 Paddlteg,, Sa«o sag©» tCacrasj, B.aird!» &c" Chambersburg Street. i^lJII 60I2FE6TIOI2E^Y AND IGE 6REAM. ©YSTE&S IH SEASOT, NEWS DEPOT AND SUBSCRIPTION AGENCY. Main St. ITZIL}ILLEJ( NATS, CAPS, —~" BOOTS*SHOES. G^Satisfaction Gua ra nteed.Sja Afa. (5 J?. Baltimore Street, GETTYSBURG. PA. -*LEVI REINECKER,^ DEALER IN FINE GROCERIES AND NOTIONS, » Nos. 16 and 18 W. German Street, BALTIMORE, Offer to the trade their large and well-selected stock of Make a specialty to have on hand everything required by Pharmacists. A complete stock can at any time be selected or wants supplied. ALQNZQ L. THOMSEN,^- BACK, WINDER, SHAEP AND LEADENHALL STS., p. O. Box 557, Baltimore, Md, I heg to call to tlie attention or the Trade tliat I have re-cently added to my Want a complete set of Drug Milling Ma-chinery ot the most Improved pattern. " G. ». SPMGLB8, ~ Successor to J. W. Eicholtz & Co., DEALEB IN VMMOS, ORGANS, MUSIC, MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS, STRINGS, Etc. No. 21 BALTIMORE STREET, Gettysburg. A temperance house. Pleasant and home-like. Teams and Guides to all points of interest on the battle-field. -StJggSQeY&B&B 2&$ZW£.=S2?0 No. 127 Chambersburg St., GETTYSBURG, PA. JOHN E. PITZER, MEMBER POST 9, G. A. R. ABB' ic -DEALER IX-Hats, Shirts, Shoes, Ties, Umbrellas, Gloves, Satchels, Hose, (Pocket (Books, Trunks, Telescopes, (Rubber, Etc., Etc. AMOS ECKERT. H ( (LWY HOT Gettysburg, Pa. JOfil] E, HUSHES, PROFIT Tins Hotel is situated on Main street, one square from P. and It. and W. M. R. R. Depots and within one-half minute's walk of the Diamond. Every room is heated, and lighted by electricity. Parlors on first and second floors. Bath and Toilet rooms on second floor, gratis to guests. Rates $1 50 to $2.50 per day. Rooms without Board 50 cents and upward according to location. Excellent accommo-dations for 250 people. Electric cars stop at the door eveiy half hour. Livery Connected, with first-class Teams, and Battle-field Guides at Low Hates. Dinner with Drive over the Battle-field SI.35. The College Mefcufy. VOL. HI. GETTYSBURG, PA., DECEMBER, 1895. No. 8. THE COLLEGE MEHCUHT, Published each month during the college year by the Students of Pennsylvania (Gettysburg) College. STAFF. Editor: D. EDGAR RICE, '96. Associate Editors : EDNA M. LOOMIS, '96. GRAYSON Z. STUP, '96. HARLEN E. GLAZIER, '96. WEBSTER C. SPAYDE, '96. WILLIAM E. WHEELER, '97, HERBERT D. SHIMER, '96. ROBIN B. WOLF, '97. Alumni Association Editor: .REV. D. FRANK GARLAND, A. M., Baltimore, Md. Business Manager : WILLIAM G. BRUBAKER, '96. Assistant Business Manager: E. A. ARMSTRONG, '97. »"",,". /One volume (ten months). . . . $i.rn iLiiars. |slngle copies .15 Payable in advance All Students are requested to hand us matter for publication. The Alumni and ex-members or the college, will favor us by sending Information concerning their whereabouts or any Items they may think would be interesting for publication. All subscriptions and business matters should be addressed to the business manager. Matter Intended for publication should be addressed to the Editor Address, THE COLLEGE MERCURY, Gettysburg, Pa. CONTENTS. EDITORIALS, THE DUTIES OF THE WEALTHY TO SOCIETY, A FANCY, -- COLLEGE LOCALS, ALUMNI NOTES, FRATERNITY NOTES, ATHLETICS, --- TOWN AND SEMINARY NOTES, - - - - 128 129 132 132 135 136 137 139 LITERARY SOCIETIES, EXCHANGES, - 141 - Hi EDITORIAL. THE subject of student self-government has of late been receiving considerable attention from the students of various colleges, and the general sentiment seems to be that its adoption would effect a great improvement in college life. It is our intention to present the subject to the students of Gettysburg College, in the hope that they will at least think of the advisa-bility of its adoption here, and if it is consid-ered at all practicable, that they will use the columns of the MERCURY for its discussion. The plan originated at Amherst and has been in successful operation there for quite a number of years, and is briefly as follows : In addition to the Faculty there is a student Senate, selected by the students, and consist-ing of four Seniors, three Juniors two Sopho-mores, and one Freshman, to which matters of decorum, and all others pertaining to the stu-dents are referred. The decisions of the Sen-ate are passed upon by the Faculty, and of course may be reversed by it if considered ex-pedient, but such reversals would undoubtedly be infrequent. Such a system, being, as we believe, entirely practicable, could be adopted by ourcollege with great advantage to both the students and the in-stitution. Much is said about student honor, but oneis compelled to believe that under the present system of college legislation this quality of the student receives but little recognition and en-couragement. Instead of being left free to act of his own accord in a manner to which the training of a Christian home and his gentle-manly instincts would prompt him, he is met on every side with rules and prohibitions. He is compelled to attend public worship on Sun-day and chapel during the week, and required to promise that he will refrain from profanity, 129 THE COLLEGE MERCURY. Sabbath desecration, and in short the whole catalogue of sins to which young men are prone. While we readily admit that all these re-quirements are just and proper, yet we are not willing to believe that compulsion is necessary in order to have students observe them. Those who are naturally well disposed grow restless at being compelled to do what they would most gladly do of their own free will, while those who have no inherent regard for right or propriety will generally do as they please de-spite the rules and prohibitions. The result of this method of treating the student has been »to create in him the feeling that the Faculty is hostile to him rather than friendly, and chafing under the restrictions placed upon him, he loses the respect for his instructors which they really deserve, and which it is necessary for him to have in order to obtain the most satisfactory results of his work. The Faculty on the other hand, by the discontent and constant opposition of the stu-dents become more confirmed in the opinion that they are to be suppressed by stronger re-strictions, rather than pacified by the removal of the restrictions. It is gratifying to see that this feeling of un-friendliness between Faculty and students is generally growing less, but if the students were given a part in their own government, it would disappear entirely. As soon as they would realize that the Faculty are willing, in a practical wa}', to recognize the fact that stu-dents have noble motives which influence them more strongly than compulsion, their feelings toward the Faculty would be greatly changed, and they would take delight in doing that which is now distasteful, simply because it is compulsory. Another very important advantage of the co-operative system is that a stricter discipline could be enforced than the Faculty acting-alone, is able to maintain. We do not wish to be understood as saying that the discipline in our college is more lax than formerly, for we do not believe it is, but the fact is nevertheless evident that there is much room for improve-ment in the conduct of the students. There are numerous instances of misconduct which are disgraceful not only to those who commit them, but to the whole body of students, as well as injurious to the reputation of the col-lege. These acts are, indeed, strongly de-nounced by all the students who have a regard for the right, but as none are willing to incur the unpopularity attached to one who gives evidence against his fellow student, the Fac-ulty is in many cases unable to punish the offenders as they deserve. If, however, the students were giv.m a share in their own gov-ernment, they would take a greater interest in preserving the reputation of the college, and cases which would come before them would be almost sure to be decided justly and impar-tially. Being entirely in the hands of the stu-dents, no individual unpopularity would result from any decisions of the Senate, but they would be supported by the whole body of stu-dents, and their enforcement made more cer-tain. Of course this whole matter of self-govern-ment rests on the question as to whether our students wish to raise the moral standard of our college, or are willing to let matters re-main as they are. The expressions of dissat-isfaction with prevailing conditions are suf-ficiently numerous and general, but if it is to stop at this, nothing more need be said. If, however, some definite action is desirable to improve these conditions, the self-government system is at least worthy of consideration. * ** SUPPLEMENTING the remarks made in our last issue concerning the recommendation of the West Pennsylvania Synod to prohibit our intercollegiate foot-ball contests, we wish to give the following statements, which we think will serve to show that it is not the sentiment of the larger colleges that these foot-ball con-tests be prohibited. The first is from an address to the Senior class on Nov. 4th, by President Patton, of Princeton, and is a most decided approval of THE COLLEGE MERCURY. 1.30 intercollegiate contests. He said in substsnce: "I am well aware that many forces operate to make a college and no one appreciates the benefits arising from intercollegiate athletics more than I. Foot-ball is a factor that cannot be overlooked in building up a college, and I was heartily gratified to learn of the amicable ar-rangement for annual games with Harvard. I The intellectual and moral sides of college life are paramount, but going hand in hand with these are the healthy exercise of mind and body, and the attainment of physical culture." The evidence of a man of so great experi-ence in presiding over a college as Dr. Patton is deserving of much consideration, for it is in the larger colleges, if anywhere, that evil re-sults follow these intercollegiate contests. The second article is from President An-drews, of Brown University, and if we can be-lieve him to be a careful observer, the game which is generally spoken against as so very i brutal, is not as dangerous as other college athletics. In his annual report Dr. Andrews . says : "For those in perfect health and trained to it, foot-ball is safer than either rowing, ! yachting, gunning or running hounds. Row-ing appears to be many times as fatal. So is base-ball. Even tennis is worse." These statements, coming from the presi-dents of two of our largest institutions may be taken as the expression of the sentiment of all ! the larger colleges, and surely there is nothing in them to indicate that intercollegiate foot-ball is losing favor as a college sport. On the contrary, they show that its importance is be-coming more and more recognized. Disregarding the merits of the game itself, the Synod seems to show partiality or rather inconsistency in thus discriminating against Gettysburg College. Midland College, Kan-' sas, which is supported directly by the appro-priations of various synods, boasts of having one of the best foot-ball teams in the state of Kansas, and yet we have not heard of any reso-lutions recommending the cessation of foot-ball contests. Other Lutheran colleges also pay great ■ attention to their athletics without any objection being raised, and why Gettysburg is singled out is more than we can understand. * * * OUR foot-ball season closed early on account of the many difficulties with which the man-agement had to contend, but we hope that dur-ing the coming year these difficulties may be-come less instead of greater, and that next season we may achieve the success of which we are capable under favorable circumstances. AT Franklin and Marshall recently, Presi-dent Stahr announced that by a resolution of the Faculty every student not a member of a literary society must of necessity be a member of the classes in elocution, in addition to the extra work in composition, etc., before re-quired. It would be well if our Faculty would follow the example of the F. and M. Faculty, and enforce strictly the rules they have made in regard to joining literary societies. More interest must be taken in our societies if we do not wish them to decline, and as per-suasion and argument seem useless, the socie-ties ought to insist that the Faculty enforce the rules which have been made on this subject. * * * OUR students have been very fortunate within the past month, in having the oppor-tunity to hear the series of lectures on the social problem by Dr. Stuckenberg. This prob-lem is one of the most serious and important of the present time, and all who heard Dr. Stuckenberg's able discussion of it were very much enlightened and benefited thereby. THE DUTIES OF THE WEALTHY TO SOCIETY. Seldom does a wealthy man hear the injunc-tion, "Sell that thou hast and give to the poor." Once, long ago, a young ruler heard these words, and it is recorded that he "went away sorrowful for he had great possessions." It would seem that a rich man's first duty is to give to the poor. He has an abundance and can give, not with sparing hand, but roy i-31 THE COLLEGE MERCURY. ally. He is not compelled to limit charity to the beggar at his gates ; he can found institu-tions that shall bring knowledge or health or even life, to thousands, and his name shall be blessed by many. " Wealth brings power, and power always brings responsibility. The wealthy man may have neither a brilliant intellect nor unusual talent ; in this case he will be excused from moving millions by ''one ink drop on a single thought," he will be excused from making any great inventions, and he will hardly be expected to revolutionize the world by his startling discoveries in the realms of science and art. His duty lies in a different direction. Let him take care how he spends his money. There are plenty of brilliant intellects going to waste from lack of money to cultivate them. If the rich man invests some of his wealth in a poor man's brains he may be able to do great things in the intellectual world by proxy. This is the next best thing to doing them in person. There are plenty of college.? needing endowments ; it may almost be said of them that their name is Legion. What more last-ing monument can any man erect to his mem-ory than a fine college building ? And, pos-sibly, some of the students will enjoy their comfortable quarters more than the epic which the founder might have written, had he been a poet. Such is the depravity of human na-ture. Money means so much. As long as the soul dwells in the earthly body it longs for material comforts and luxuries. All these the rich man has at his command. If he does his duty, he will not keep them all to himself; life is un-certain, and he may enjoy them only a day. He will divide them up a little and find his greatest delight in the pleasure of others. But he need not stop with this. Money means far more than material enjoyment. The rich man with an average amount of brain power has no excuse for not knowing some-thing. He is released from the drudgery that wearies the rest of the world. His time is at his disposal, and if he wastes this, what can be said of him ? It is his duty to give to the poor, but it is also his duty to give something to his poor soul, and not let it go starving into eternity. God gives him the grandest oppor-tunities, and what can he say if these are neg-lected ? When the wealthy class are educated and cultured, it will be the fashion to be educated and cultured. They are the leaders in society and they can do more for its elevation than any one else. They can open their doors to those who are fitted, by nature and learning, to move in the best circles, and close them against those whose admission is only bought by money. Society need not be merely a show, a hollow pretense. It should be some-thing more satisfying than this. It lies with the rich to uphold the standards of truth and right ; yes, and the standards of purity and common sense. The wealth}' woman can, per-haps, do more for society than the wealthy man. The spending of her dollars has such an influence upon the spending of her poorer sisters' dimes. If her church dress is of silk or velvet, she may still gain a great deal of benefit from the sermon ; but how is it with her neighbors? Possibly, one whose plain gown is pretty and suitable feels a little stir-ring of envy in the depths of her soul. If if she could only array himself like that. Another one, perhaps, whose shabby gown is brought out in startling relief by so much ele-gance, firmly determines to stay away from that church in the future. Well is it, if she does not go further and pronounce church-goers a vain lot. Yet, the wealthy ought not to deprive them-selves of all beautiful, luxurious things. They are a part of the blessing of wealth. A wealthy man has a right to a beautiful home and to elegant surroundings. The)' tend to refine-ment and culture. There is no reason in the world why he should not gratify his tastes in this direction ; there is strong reasons why he should. If art, music, and literature are to be kept alive at all, they must be kept alive by the wealthy classes. The wise use of money THE COLLEGE MERCURY. 132 has nothing whatever to do with penury in the case of a man who has an abundance. If he has a wise, good heart, he may spend his money f.eely, even for self gratification, and 110 one will suffer thereby.' ;A woman who distinguishes between things temporal and things eternal may be attired elegantly without proving a stumbling block in the way of any one. It is hard to observe the fitness of things when pride comes in ; but things fall into their proper places of themselves when one remem-bers that "the glory of man is as the flower of grass." To the wealthy are given great responsibili-ties, but great privileges. The responsibility of power and influence and example ; the re-sponsibility of spending wealth ; of settling the standards of society, and of influencing their fellow men. They have the privilege of receiving blessings from many grateful lips and of hastening the day when social purity and justice shall reign. God gives to some his good things in keeping, and let them be care-ful how thev fulfill the trust. E. M. L., '96. COLLEGE LOCALS. GRAYSON Z. STUP and ROBBIN B. WOLF, Editors. A FANCY. Very early one Autumn morn. Before the first flush of coming dawn Had touched the sky with roseate hue, Or scattered the morning mist of dew, I saw—afar in the cloudless sky— Crescent-pointed, sailing high, The waning moon, like a tiny hoat, In a sea of boundless blue afloat; Just a slender, silvery, thread Sailing serenely overhead. Oh, where are you going, little boat. As through the azure dome you float? Where are you bound, as you sail along Thro' all the silent, starry throng. Is there some dim and distant strand Far, far away from this mortal land, Some celestial, glorious shore To which you are sailing evermore? And do you hope, some day, to reach The haven of that shining beach ? Sail on oh, little fairy boat Still onward thro' the azure float, Who knows what precious freight you bear, What wealth of heavenly treasures rare. Perchance some bright, angelic band You carry to that shining strand. We do not know, we only see Thee, sailing onward silently, And wonder at the silver boat In heaven's boundless blue afloat. A. R. W., '99. Thanksgiving ! Big dinners ! Institute ! School marms ! Get ready for examination, boys. Long vacation this Christmas. College closes on Dec. 20th at noon and opens again for the winter term on Jan. 7th, 1896. Thanksgiving day dawned very beautifully. It was an ideal day, and even the heart of the most ungrateful wretch must have felt like giving praise on such a ,day. The boys were especially happy, because the day was given as a holiday. Not even the first recita-tion was heard. Many of the boys went home. Those who stayed here lived off the fat of the land at their respective boarding places, and after their feasts were over many were seen on the streets and in the country, walking with friends and fair ladies—many of them modest little school teachers. While the Institute, with its many teachers, is fresh in our minds, we might notice some effects upon college life in general. No one would question that the Institute is a good thing for Gettysburg. It has proved so as re-gards the college boys. Many of them, who were never known to be out much with the ladies, have decided to take lessons under their instructions. Quite a few had courage enough to venture upon the campus with them, even though their fellows, from the dormitory win-dows, whistled that familiar march so well known. Their courage did not fail, even, when they were invited to bring back the col-lar and handkerchiefs they had borrowed. The college athletic field is about completed. The fence is being put up and, in fact, is nearly finished. It is eight and a half feet high, and is made entirely of chestnut. The grass seed is up nicely, and by next spring the field will present a first-class condition for base ball. We ought to have a strong team to initiate the work on the new field. Gymnasium work began on Nov. 4th, with Physical Director Wheeler, dressed in his best suit of tights, ready to take charge of the classes. He was a little nervous when he looked up and saw the gallery filled with spec-tators, among whom appeared some of the 133 THE COLLEGE MERCURY. co-eds. But in spite of all the eyes fixed on him Billy gave the command—"Attention"— and everybody obeyed. He is getting along very well with his work. About three weeks ago a glee club was formed, consisting of eight members. On ac-count of the number it is denominated "The College Octet." It originated out of an invi-tation extended to the musical clubs of the col-lege to furnish music at the Institute. There being no Banjo nor Mandolin clubs, some of the boys in the old Glee Club, with one new fnan, formed the organization. The members are as follows : Nicholas, '98, and Ott, '97, first tenors; White, '97, and Stup, '96, seco.id tenors; Lark, '98, and Koller, '98, first bass; Stamets, '99, and Manges, '97, second bass. The Octet furnished music on Monday and Tuesday evenings for the Institute. Many very favorable criticisms were passed on the songs. On Monday evening, Nov. nth, a good trick was played at College. Good, '99, was reported to have been stoned by those pestifer-ous town boys and it was said that his face was cut very badly. Naturally the boys' sym-pathy would be aroused and no very urgent invitation would be needed to get them to go to his room to see him. When they got there this is what they found. A number of boys in the study room, a dim light in the bed-room, and a form in the bed. The faces of the boys had that woe-be-gone expression that in-dicates the awfulness of something ; the light was so dim that it suggested the chamber of death ; and the form in the bed had the ap-pearance of a human being. However, when the sympathizing visitors were led up to the bedside silently on tiptoe, and the other long-faced boys were standing around, the dim light was suddenly turned up and the cover thrown back, then it was that the form of a good-sized pillow was seen. Then the longitude of those boys' faces standing around suddenly changed into latitude. From time to time the hearty peals of laughter that were heard told that another fellow, who had per-haps gotten up out of his nice warm bed, had been victimized. Just about a hundred boys, from every class in College, and some from Prep, were faked. So effectually did the trick work that Good, who was up town during the evening, was made a victim, his chum having been reported to be the unlucky one. Some of the Seniors were fooled so badly that they got sick, and flunks were quite in style the next morning. So it will not do to have many such experiences. One good trick goes a long dis-tance. The boys will have to get hungry be-fore they will bite on such bait again. A series of six lectures on Sociology by J. H. W. Stuckenberg, D. D., was given in Brua Chapel from Nov. 18th to 23rd. The lectures were given in the evening and lasted a little over an hour. The main auditorium of the chapel was well filled each evening, and much interest was manifested. Dr. Stuckenberg is an able speaker, and his reputation as a scholar brought many strangers to hear him discuss the great problem of society. The public is indebted to the Missionary Society of the Seminary tor Dr. Stuckenberg's stay with us. The balance of the money remaining after ex-penses are paid will go for the purpose of fit-ting up the new gymnasium in the Seminary. The following is a list of tlie subjects lectured upon : 1. What is the Meaning of the Social Prob-lem ? 2. What are the Causes of the Problem ? 3. The Social Problem in the United States. 4. Solution by Revolution : Communism, The Social Democracy, Anarchism. 5. The Solution by Evolution. 6. The Function of the State in the Solution of the Problem. The Lecture Course Committee takes pleas-ure in announcing the course of entertainments for this season. The course is an excellent one, surpassing that of last year in price. The committee, being very desirous of having Gen. Gordon, had to sacrifice the arrangement of the entertainments. This explains why they are in such close succession. The following is the course : Jan. 22—Lovett's Boston Stars. Jan. 27—Col. Copelaud. Feb. 22—Gen. J. B. Gordon. Feb. 25—New York Male Quartette. Mar. 17—Rev. A. A. Willets, D. D. Somebody said that he thought Bruby had very hopeful signs of being married before long. When asked why, he said: "I see that the arch is up." The boys must have seen the arch when they were out to the Battlefield Hotel fire. Prof. H.—What is the object of a minister? Ans.—Saving souls. Prof. H.—How does he do it? Ans. (after long reflection)—By not walk-ing on them. THE COLLEGE MERCURY. 134 Messrs. Brubaker, '96, and Lutz, '98, have purchased a graphophoue. About two weeks ago they gave an entertainment in Brua Chapel for the benefit of the Athletic Associa-tion. The instrument is an improvement over the phonograph and reproduces the music very nicely. The proprietors were well advertised on the bulletin board before the concert. A crowd of sympathizing Freshmen, wish-ing to aid in a charitable cause, recently sub-scribed the necessary amount for another scientific man to have his curly locks trimmed. The collection was gladly accepted, and now the curly-headed lad no longer gets late at church. Dr. H.—Whom did the Lord tell Moses to take along up into the mountain ? S., Jr., '99—His brother Exodus. M., '96; suprised the class in astronomy the other morning when he said that an eclipse has the effect of making birds and other ani-mals go to roost. Mr. W., '95, reading Bacon's essay on "Studies," said: "Reading maketh a man full." Even Prof. H. could not restrain his laughter. Mr. L-, '98, was lately seen strolling over Balto. Hill prominently exposing his suspend-ers. Many of the boys spent Thanksgiving day and the remainder of the week at their respect-ive homes. They can hardly know how good Adams county turkey is. Mr. S., '97, while at Mr. B.'s reception, spied the olives and asked one of the young ladies to pass him the pickled plums. Mr. Z., '98, had just passed the P. & R. depot and was telling a freshman how high the snow had drifted there last winter and how his whole class conspired to stay out of mathe-matical recitation the day of the blizzard. Just then Dr. N. loomed out of the darkness and said: "Yes, and I'll catch you some day." Very sad, indeed, was the disappointment of the boys who went to St. Mary's to see the foot-ball game when they found that the game had been cancelled. The class of '97 was royally entertained on Tuesday evening, Oct. 28th, by Mr. H. W. Bikle. It was our first reception and the boys looked forward to it with great expectations. Our expectations were not only realized but far surpassed. The class assembled at the home of the host about half-past eight. Great was our joy when we beheld some of the fair sex of G. 011 hand who were to share the hon-ors of our co-eds. Everybody was cordially received by Dr. and Mrs. Bikle who then re-tired, having given the young people full charge. The first part of the evening was spent in pitching bean bags. This game was enjoyed by all since some of the boys could not' even hit the board. The winning side then went out to the dining-room where a bountifully laden table awaited them. Every-thing was served beautifully and the refresh-ments were enjoyed by all. The winning side then retired to the parlor to give the losers an opportunity to enjoy the feast. While the losers were eating they were entertained by the melodious voices of the Avalon Sextette. After the party was again united in the parlor the}' were entertained Mr. S.'s jigs and piano music by the young ladies. Then we all sang —except Pearl, who has not acquired the art— till our throats and music were exhausted. The clock had passed the hour of midnight when we adjourned, thanking Mr. B. for his kindness and congratulating him on his capac-ity as a host. It was an event which will be long remembered by us all. Many of the boys attended Institute during the past week and had the customary good time with the school marms. Some of them were so much interested in the work that it seriously affected their recitations. Mr. E. of Prep., displayed the Persian fond-ness for strangers by sitting in church with his arm around one of our co-eds. The Juniors are hard at work on their Spec-trum. The Spectrum will be of special interest since it includes matter of the last two years. If any of the students or Alumni have not sub-scribed for it they should do so immediately. If Gettysburg College is to publish an annual it must have the support of all its friends. Mr. B., '96, who has lately been troubled with nervous fluctuations of the heart, finds it a wonderful restorative, when calling on young ladies, to keep on his overcoat and gloves. That's hard luck, Bruby. One of the most able men in the Junior class, after he had been out with the ladies all morn-ing, suddenly asked the boys at the dinner table whether a duck was the he of a geese. He must have been suffering from temporary aberration, his mind wandering after his duckie. '-35 THE COLLEGE MERCURY. While Mr. Bikle, '97, was working in chem- j ical laboratory recently, he had an accident by which he was seriously burned about the eyes by sulphuric acid. He has the sympathy of all his fellow-students. The following is a brief lesson in '97's nom-enclature. One Friday, when the Duck was out strolling, she was sud- , denly attacked by the Mange(s). She at once went to the \ Miller and asked him what she Ott to do to get rid of it. The Miller said he was not Abel to give her a remedy. But as the Duck walked along, it made her Sh(r)iver to see a White Wolf in the bushes eating (h)Erbs. The Wolf was just about to sieze the Duck when the Smith came riding down the road on his Bik(l)e, and he, being very Armstrong, slew the Wolf with his Kain. The Smith then got on his Wheel(er) and brought the Duck safely to her Stahl. BEFORE THE FRESHMAN-PEEP. GAME. Before you crash 'gainst Freshies' line Just think it over. The challenge, Sirs, do not decline, ■ But think it over. . It is not wise to be too new Because, before the game is through, Your bright prospects may all turn blue, So think it over. Don't spend your cash for painted signs, But think it over. The score towards you of course inclines But, think it over. We've heard of teams beaten before With a smaller difference in the score, And it might be done just once more. So think it over. We did not practice, Sirs, to lose. So think it over. We care not for a break or bruise So think it over. As soon as our men reach the field, It certainly won't be to yield. But henceforth shall the score be sealed. So think it over. H. M. C, '99. Y. M. C. A. NOTES. We were glad to see the interest taken in our meetings during the week of prayer. Al-though there were none who openly professed Christ as their Saviour, we are sure that none could have attended the meetings without re-ceiving much benefit. The topics for discus-sion during the week were : "For What has God Created Me?"—Dr. Valentine; "Christ our Righteousness"—Rev. Black; "An Invi-tation to All"—Dr. McKnight; "Excuses"— Rev. A. R. Steck ; "What Shall I do with Jesus Which is Called Christ?"—Dr. Bill-heimer. Our delegates to the Y. M. C. A. Conven-tion at Erie, brought home a very interesting and gratifying report. May the great Y. M. C. A. work go on. No one can estimate the value of good music. It perhaps exerts more influence in our meetings than the words which are spoken. Everybody come and help us sing. We shall appreciate your presence. The Missionary Bible Class is exceedingly interested in the study of God's Word. We would be glad to see interest in work of this kind more general. The Bible will admit of the profoundest stud5'. On Wednesday evening, Nov. 13th, Rev. M. S. Kemp delivered an address in the Pres-byterian church, on his summer's work in Adams county for the Bible Society. The fol-lowing are statistics given : Number of fam-ilies visited, 3250 ; number of families found entirely destitute of the Bible, and which he supplied by sale or gift, 230 ; number of fami-lies who had nothing but a large Family Bible, 519; number of families who, though not en-tirely destitute, needed the Bible, yet were too poor to buy, and which he supplied, 260 ; number of Roman Catholic families to whom he sold Bibles (King James Version), 25; number of Roman Catholic families who were supplied, 60; number of copies of the Bible sold and donated throughout the county, 419 ; number of Testaments and other parts of the Bible sold and donated, 744 ; total number of books sold and donated, 1163 ; amounting to the value of $400. ALUwiNl. H. D. SHIMER, Editor. '53. Rev. W. F. Ulery was in Gettysburg for a few days recently. '57. Rev. Dr. L. A. Gotwald, Professor of Practical Theology in Wittenberg Theological Seminary, was stricken with paralysis a few weeks ago. Dr. Gotwald's illness is a source of great anxiety to the entire church. Our latest intelligence is that his condition is im-proving. '57. Rev. Dr. H. Louis Baugher has lately returned from his western trip. '58. Rev. Dr. A. R. Home, whose cut was lately published in one of the leading papers, is editor of the National Educator. Dr. Home THE COLLEGE MERCURY. 136 is well known throughout the State as an educator, and is worthy of the position he holds. '63. Rev. Dr. E. J. Wolf assisted in the re-dedication of the Lutheran Church, at Seven Valley, York county, Nov. 17. '64. Dr. T. L- Seip, president of Muhlen-berg College, was appointed by Governor Hastings a member of the College and Univer-sity Council of the State of Pennsylvania, and by them elected chairman of the Council. '68. Rev. L. M. Heilman, D. D., of Chi-cago, now about to take charge at Harrisburg, Pa., was the recipient of very cordial expres-sions of love and good wishes from his Chi-cago people. '71. Mr. M. Allen Emory has located at Frenchtown, N. J., and is enjoying a lucrative law practice. '73. Rev. J. A. Singmaster, D. D., of Al-lentown, Pa., has received an increase of $300 per year 011 his salar3'. '73. Rev. Wm. S. Freas, D. D., of York, Pa., president of the Board of Church Exten-sion, was elected the principal speaker at the Luther League meetings, held in New York city and Brooklyn, on Nov. 10th and nth. '75. Rev. Dr. E. D. Weigle has decided to accept the call from the Lutheran congrega-tion of Mechanicsburg. It will be remembered that a call was extended him a few weeks ago, which he refused at the request of the people of the charge which he is now serving in Al-toona. '75. Rev. E. G. Hay was in Gettysburg during November, visiting Prof. Himes and family. '76. Rev. S. E. Smith, pastor of Punxsu-tawney, Pa., is hard-working and successful in his parish efforts. '79. Rev. Geo. S. Diven has been called to St. Paul's Lutheran church, Iredell county, S. C. '84. Rev. L. M. Zimmerman, pastor of Christ English Lutheran church, Baltimore, Md., recently preached upon the subject: "Who are Lutherans." The Morning Herald, of October 28th, contains an excellent extract from it. '88. On Thursday afternoon and evening, November 14th, the semi-annual meeting of the Central Lutheran Association of Pittsburg and vicinity, was held in Bethany church, East End. Rev. S. D. Daugherly was one of the speakers. '90. Rev. J. F. W. Kitzmeyer, of Davis, W. Va., has been called to the new English Mis-sion in New York city. '91. Rev. S. Griug Hefelbower's address is 'changed from 13 Emilien street to Floss Platz, Leipsic, Germany. '92. Dr. August Pohlman, of Baltimore, a graduate of Pennsylvania College, has been elected valedictorian by the graduating class oi the Baltimore Medical College. '92. Rev. George Beiswanger has changed his residence from No. 2233 Gough street to No. 1722 Fulton avenue, Baltimore, Md. '92. Emanuel W. Herman, Esq., of Luther-ville, Md., was elected to the Maryland House of Delegates at the election held in November. '93. We are glad to note that George C. Baum, who is a member of the Senior class in the School of Architecture at Philadelghia, re-ceived second mention from the Society of Beaux-Arts Architecture, awarded on the last competitions of that society. '93. Mr. D. Floyd Culler is pursuing a graduate course in Romance Philology at Yale University. '94. Margaret R. Himes is suffering from a severe attack of pneumonia. FRATERNuY NOTES. PHI KAPPA PSI. The Chapter will celebrate its fortieth anni-versary this month. . D. P. Forney, '57, has been elected presi-dent of the Adams County Farmers' Associa-tion. Rev. L. A. Gottwald, D. D., '57, was stricken with paralysis at his home, in Spring-field, O. John C. Bowers, '93, attended the wedding of a former classmate at Frederick last week. Keefer, '95, has entered a business firm in Reading. Witman, '95, attended the Seminary conven-tion at Lancaster last month. Graff, '97, has gone into the lumber busi-ness in Duluth, Minn. '37 THE COLLEGE MERCURY. Reitzell, Eisenhart, Kueudig and Lark spent Thanksgiving day at their respective homes. Weaver, '99, spent the holiday in Philadel-phia. PHI GAMMA DELTA. Bro. Meade D. Detweiler, '84, was re-elected District Attorney of Dauphin county at the last election. He managed the affairs of the office so satisfactorily to all that he was re-elected by a majority greater than the num-ber of votes cast for his opponent. Bros. Alleman and Garland attended the lectures delivered by Dr. Stuckenberg. Bro. H. M. Roth, of Bucknell Chapter, was a visitor to Gettysburg recently. Bro. Fite represented the Chapter at the 47th annual convention held at Eastou, last week. Bros. Rice and Shaar spent Thanksgiving at their respective homes. Bro. C. H. Smith, attended the reception at Irving, Thanksgiving night. Bro. Neudewitz preached at Rossville, last Sunday. Bros. Valentine, Ph. D., '80, Stabler, '82, and Bliut, '90, were recent visitors in town. PHI DELTA THETA. Bro. J. F. Seibert, '89, paid the Chapter a visit the beginning of the month. Bro. E. O. Grover, N. H. Alpha, '94, spent last week in town, in the interests of Kellogg &Co. Bro. Sloop spent Sunday, Nov. 17, with his parents, at Steeltou, Pa. Bro. Meiseuhelder spent Thanksgiving at his home, in Hanover, Pa. Bros. Smith and Friday spent election day at their respective homes. Bros. Kain and Meiseuhelder attended the Alpha Province Convention, held at Schenec-tady, N. Y., with N. Y. Beta, Oct. 31-Nov. 2. SIGMA CHI. Bro. Garnet Gehr, '91, was recently ap-pointed attorney for Wolf & Co., a large man-ufacturing firm of Chambersburg. Bro. Edwin J. McKee, '88, gave the address of welcome to the visiting firemen at Hagers-town, Md., on Thanksgiving Day. He is also a member of the board of directors of the Hagerstowu Athletic Association. Bro. Leisenring spent Thanksgiving with his parents at Chambersburg, Pa. Bro. Lawyer spent Thanksgiving with his parents at Westminster, Md. The Chapter recently- had their pictures taken in a group in front of the Chapter lodge. Brother William Hersh, '91, will be married on the nth inst. to Miss Edith Eunice Rahter. The best wishes of the Chapter are extended to him. C. E. Stable, '87, visited the Atlanta Expo-sition. ALPHA TAU OMEGA. W. B. Nipple, '97, spent Thanksgiving Day with friends at Harrkburg. M. R. Zullinger, '98, was home over Thanksgiving Day. C. W. Spayde, '99, spent some time recently at his home in Harrisburg. P. W. Roller, '94, of the Seminary, spent a week recently at Lancaster, Pa. Geo. W. Kyner, '89, of Chambersburg, was in town on business some time ago. ATHLETICS. WILLIAM E. WHEELER, Editor. The last game of foot-ball for this season was played with Swarthmore at Harrisburg, on Nov. 2nd. The Harrisburg papers, com-menting upon the game, said : It was one of the prettiest ever played here. Both teams played with a dash and brilliancy, surprising even the admir-ers of the game. The teams were about evenly matched, and it is out of the question to say one out-played the other. The ball was first put into play by Gettys-burg kicking well into Swarthmore's territory and downed there. S. lost on downs and Get-tysburg took ball, but was unable to advance it and lost it also on downs. By short, sharp dashes through lines S. rushed ball to 20-yd. line and there lost it. Gettysburg made some very fine runs around S.'s ends, and the ball was back on their 30-yd. line. Here it was lost on a fumble to S., who advanced it by massed plays through the line to Gettysburg's 25-yd. line; but Gettysburg held S., compell-ing them to kick. The ball was blocked and secured by Loudon, who had an open field be-fore him. He was overtaken by Hodge, after making a fine run of 45 yds. Swarthmore got the ball for holding in the line, and by runs THE COLLEGE MERCURY. 138 around end and massed plays carried ball up 1 the field, scoring first touchdown. Time was I called with the ball in Swarthmore's territory. Swarthmore kicked off in the second half and downed the ball on G.'s 35-yd. line. Brilliant j runs by White' and Loudon, and plunges [ through line by Sheely, carried the ball stead- i ily back to S.'s 15 yd. line, and then lost on a miserable fumble. S. kicked to midfield, and the ball moved backwards and forwards for some time. One of the most remarkable runs ever made on a field happened by Hodge secur-ing the ball and making a run of 80yds., scor-ing second touchdown. In the run the cap-tain of S. jumped clear over the head of one of G.'s men, who attempted to tackle him. The play called forth much applause. Hodge then kicked goal, and the game was ended with score 10 to o in favor of Swarthmore. The line up of the teams was as follows : GETTYSBURG. POSITION. SWARTHMORE. Moser, (Capt.1 left-end Wilson Manges left-tackle Firth Wierman left-guard Fouse Williams centre Morrison Tholan right-guard Clarke Menges right-tackle Wills Loudon right-end Cahill Carty quarter (Capt.) Hodge Shinier right-half Cloty White left-half Knauer Sheely full-back Kapplcr Umpire—Hickok. Referree—Beruheisel. Linesman—Fick-inger. Touchdowns—Hodge and Kappler. Goals—Hodge- Thirty-minute halves. In our last issue we spoke of the advisabil-ity of more intef-class spirit as far as athletics were concerned. The suggestion was favor-ably commented upon by the student body, and as a result several inter-class games of foot-ball were played, viz.: Freshmen vs. Preps, and Seniors vs. Freshmen. While these games do not affect the standing of the college teams yet they do, in a great measure, keep aflame the athletic spirit. Our place in the ranks with our sister institutions next year will, in part, be due to our interest and assist-ance this Fall. Show the spirit now and the work will surely manifest itself. The Freshman-Prep game was played Sat-urday afternoon, Nov. 16th. It was a very nice game and stubbornly contested. The Freshmen may have had the benefit of longer practice, but what the. Prep's lacked in prac-tice they made up in aggressiveness and weight. The Freshmen scored on a fumble in the first half, Devinney crossing the line for a touchdown and Spayde kicked goal. The second half was marked by quick, sharp play-ing on the part of the Preps. Determination to score showed itself in the play, and this they did in about twelve minutes after play was called. The score was now a tie and neither side was able to score again before time was called. The game was prettily played and both classes were elated over their, teams. The line up was as follows : FRESHMAN. POSITION. PREP. Weeter left-end Kahler Devinney left-tackle Young Cumbler left-guard Dielll Smith, J centre Williams Reisch right-guard Hollinger Brumbaugh right-tackle Mcllhenny Herman right-end Brandt Good quarter (Capt.) Huber Doty (Capt.) right-half Eberly Spayde left-half Lawyer Trimble full-back Wisotzki Umpire-Rudisill. Referee—Kump. Linesmen—White and Menges. Touchdowns—Divinuey, Eberly. Goals—Spayde, Wisotzki. The Senior-Freshman game was played the following Saturday, Nov. 23rd, and was quite a surprise to those who looked for an over-whelming deleat of the Freshmen. They played a much better game than was expected, preventing the Seniors from scoring in the first half. Several times the ball was lost to each side on downs, and time was called with the ball in the Freshmen's territory. The second half was even more marked by the efforts of each side to score. The Freshmen by repeated rushes and a pretty run by Doty got the ball within one foot of a touchdown. Here the superior strength and weight of the Seniors showed itself in preventing the ball from going over the line. They got the ball on downs and immediately rushed it down the field for a touchdown. This seemed to unnerve the Freshmen and the Seniors made two more touchdowns before time was called. Taking into account the greater weight of the Seniors and the fact that several of their men belonged to the college team, praise is due the Fresh-men for their well-played game. The follow-ing was the line up. SENIORS. POSITION. FRESHMEN. Moser (Capt.) left-end Weeter Shaar left-tackle Hoover Jlrubaker left-guard Cumbler Ritter centre Smith, J. Reitzell right-guard Hickman Shinier right-tackle Brumbaugh Wolf right end Herman Rice right-half (Capt.) Doty London left-half Spaj'de Menges full-back Trimble Carty quarter Good Umpire—Geesy. Referee—Wolf. Linesmen—Kitzmeyerand Meisenhelder. Touchdowns—Loudon 2, Rice. Goals—Menges. '39 THE COLLEGE MERCURY At a recent meeting of the Athletic Associa-tion the following were elected for the ensuing year: Manager of Baseball, Armstrong, '97; Manager of Track Athletics, Wheeler, '97; and Manager of Tennis Tournament, Lark, '98. The various managers, are at work dis-cussing'iplans and outlining the work for next season. Now that the foot-ball season is over, we very naturally turn to the next thing of inter-est and importance, namely, base ball and track athletics. Our record on the diamond is by no means bad, in fact it is here that we demonstrated our ability and worthiness to take our place in the ranks with other colleges. But we can't rest on past reputations and achievements. Everyone interested in base ball should be willing and ready to lend a hand. The places of the old players, now out of college, must be filled, and you can do it. Track athletics are not entirely unknown, since attempts have been made to organize a team, but without success. The fault lay not with the management, but with the students. We surely have the material out of which a creditable team can be made, and at the same time facilities for the training and practicing of such a team. Indifference to the need and importance of track work causes all the trouble. Once get the idea that we MUST have a team, and we will have it. The treasurer of the athletic association will call on all members during the next week who are in arrears for dues and fees. Be ready with your cash. TOWN /\ND SEWIINARY NOTES. WEBSTER C SPAYDE, Editor. TOWN. At the Missionary Convention of the Luth-eran Church, which met in Carlisle several weeks ago, Mrs. E. Breideubaugh was elected treasurer; Mrs. P. M. Bikle and Mrs. Baugher, members of the Literary Committee; Miss Maggie McClean and Mrs. C. H. Ruff on the Adams County Conference. The Veteran Association of the 76th Pa. Regiment held their re-union here on Wednes-day, Oct. 23rd. The party included twenty-six of the survivors, many of them accom-panied by their wives and daughters. Two magnificently illustrated lectures by the Rev. M. W. Hamma, D. D., of Washington, were given in Christ church, Wednesday and Thursday evenings, Nov. 6th and 7th. Sub-ject of first lecture: "Southern Norway—'The Wonderland of the North.' " Second lecture: "Through Denmark, Sweden and Northern Norwav to the North Cape under the Light of 'The Midnight Sun.' " On Wednesday, Oct. 23rd. General John Taylor, General j. P. S. Gobin, Colonel John P. Nicholson and Colonel R. Bruce Ricketts, with the artist, H. K. Bush-Brown, and other friends, among them Geo. Alfred Town'send, the war correspondent, viewed the statue of Major General Geo. G. Meade, and, owing to the delay in the granite pedestal, postponed dedication of this, as well as the Hancock statue, until next June. The Hancock statue was approved by the State Commission and an order given for the payment of its cost. The same gentlemen met at Harrisburg, on their way here, and inspected designs for the Rey-nolds monument, but no action was taken. The three massive granite blocks composing the base of the Meade statue are set and the imposing statue, which has been previously described in these columns, placed in position. On the one face are the words, "Major Gen-eral George Gordon Meade, United States Army, Commander of the Army of the Poto-lnac." On the other, "Born December 31, 1815. Died November 6, 1872." Rev. A. R. Steck, pastor of St. James Luth-eran church, assisted at the re-opening exer-cises of St. Matthew's Lutheran church, Han-over, on Sunday, Nov. 3rd. While the Skelly & Warner corner, form-erly the Fahnestock building, was being in part torn down recently, Mr. John M. Warner found an old paper which seems to be an offic-ial list of the men who formed Company E, 2d Regiment, Penua. Volunteers. Dr. J. H. W. Stuckenberg, of Cambridge, Mass., preached in Christ Lutheran church on Sunday morning, Nov. 17th. He also filled the pulpit of the same church on the morning of Nov. 24th. In pursuance of the general plan of restor-ing the battlefield as nearly as practicable to its appearance in 1863, the Government Com-mission has purchased a large number of trees, including leading varieties of oak, maple, ash, elm, and other indigenous trees with which to renew the portions of Ziegler's and Reynolds's groves, which have been cut away since the THE COLLEGE MERCURY. 140 battle. The work of planting them is in charge of Mr. Mclntire, representing Con-tractor O'Connell, of Philadelphia, who furn-ished the trees. About 2.30 o'clock Sunday morning, Nov. 10th, the Colonial Hotel was discovered to be on fire and the alarm was quickly given. The fire was first discovered by Mrs. Tate, wife of the proprietor, C. B. Tate, who noticed the smell of smoke. She aroused the family and the guests, all of whom escaped, but some were in extreme danger. The firemen quickly responded to the alarm but before they could get water the whole building was wrapt in flames. They turned their attention to the surrounding buildings, all of which were in imminent clanger, espec-ially those on the east and south. The resi-dence of J. A. Kitztniller, Esq., across the street, directly within the line of the wind, caught several times but a slate roof saved it. The ice-house, closely attached to the hotel, was destroyed, but the barn was saved. As to the cause of the fire nothing definite can be stated. Mr. Tate says that he has no idea how it could have started. Those who saw the fire early think that it began in or near the bar-room in the basement. All of the furniture and wearing apparel in the house was destroyed, and a small stock of liquors. The hotel was insured to the amount of about $8,000. A plan is on foot in Gettysburg to introduce a telephone system. Some of the business men have been approached, all of whom, we are told, think the plan a good one. It is pro-posed also, if the venture is a success in Get-tysburg, to connect with the surrounding towns. The anniversary exercises of the Women's Bible Society were held on Sunday evening, Nov. 17th. In the Presbyterirn church the services were conducted by Revs. Dr. Barkley and Black; St. James Lutheran, Rev. Gilchrist and Dr. Billheimer; Christ Lutheran, Revs. Steck and Carver and Dr. Stuckenberg. The Christian Endeavor Society of St. James Lutheran church held their seventh anniver-sary on Sunday, Nov. 24II1. In the morning Rev. C. C. Benson, of Williamsport, Pa., de-livered a very able discourse based on the text: "Thy Kingdom Come." In the evening ap-propriate services were held, conducted by the pastor, Rev. A. R. Steck. The St. James and Christ Lutheran congre-gations held a union Thanksgiving service in St. James Luthern church on Thursday morn-ing, Nov. 28th, at 10 o'clock. Rev. L. S. Black preached the sermon. Services were also held in the Presbyterian and Reformed churches in the morning. The firemen of this place had a parade on Thursday afternoon, Nov. 28th. The hose-carriage was drawn by some of the firemen, the engine and ladder truck were drawn by horses. Music was furnished by the Gettys-burg band. One of the most popular auxiliaries of the evening lectures at the Adams Count}' Teach-ers' Institute was the "Graphophone Exhibi-tion" by two of our boys—Messrs. Lutz and Brubaker. The audience was carried away; every selection was applauded. And so de-lighted were both audience and manager that their service was secured for a second night with equal success. We congratulate the boys on their splendid success in so large a hall and before so large an audience. SEMINARY. • Rev. J. Albert, on account of ill health, has given up his work at Seminary and has re-turned to his Mission in the West. Rev. A. Bredenbek and Rev. M. J. Killian preached at Good Intent on the 10th and 17th of November, respectively. On the 3rd of November, Rev. G. W. Enders, Jr., preached at Newport, Perry county. In the absence of Rev. Steck, Nov. 3rd, Rev. M. J. Kline filled St. James pulpit in the morning, and Rev. George M. Diffenderfer in the evening. Rev. A. A. Kelly preached in the Trindal Spring church, Mechanicsburg, Pa., Novem-rer 24th. Rev. Chas. P. Wiles preached for Rev. Hesse, New Oxford, Pa., Nov. 24th. The pulpit of the Second Lutheran church, Carlisle, Pa., was filled by Rev. H. B. Stock, Nov. 24th. Owing to ill health, Rev. M. J. Kline was advised to return to his home, Frederick, Md., for a short time. Rev. F. Hilton returned to Seminary several weeks ago. i4r THE COLLEGE MERCURY. On Nov. 24th, Rev. E. E. Parson preached at Freedom, Md. Rev. J. F. Crigler assisted Rev. M. P. Hocker, Steelton, Pa., Nov. 10th. Rev. J. C. Bowers preached at Rossville, Pa., Nov. 17th. The following 'Seminarians attended the meeting of the American Inter-Seminary Mis-sionary Alliance, which was held in Lancaster, Pa.: Messrs. Ehrhart, Diffenderfer, Kline, Rndisill, Stock, Heffner, Bare, Oberholtzer, Koller, Ibach, Cromer, Harms, Whitman, Cox and Killian. Each day during the week beginning Nov. 17th, Dr. J. H. W. Stuchenberg lectured to the Seminarians on Philosophy and Christian Sociology. Rev. W. A. Kump preached at Round-Top, Sunday evening, Nov. 10th. On November 24th, Rev. W. O. Ibach pre-sided at the pipe organ in Christ Lutheran church. LIJERARV SOCIETIES. EDNA M. LOOMIS, Editor. PHILO. The society has decided to make some needed improvements in the reading room. As Dr. Stuckenberg's lecture occupied the evening of Ncv. 22nd, and the Teachers' In-stitue the evening of Nov. 29th, no meetings were held on those dates. The new members of Philo are Brumbaugh, '99, and Bregenzer, 1900. The special program of Dec. 6th will be de-voted to Robert Louis Stevenson. PHRENA. Our special meeting on Nov. 1, which was in charge of our new initiates, was a grand success. The hall was filled to overflowing, and all went home well pleased with the even-ing's entertainment. Our new men deserve to be congratulated. The following new names were added to our roll during the past month: J. H. Straw, '99; David P. Deatrick, H. B. Ernest and Alex-ander O'Neal, of the Preparatory Department. On Wednesday evening, Nov. 6, our de-bating club elected the following officers: Pres., Woods, '9S; V. Pres., Staley, Jr., '99; Rec. Sec, Krafit, '98; Treas., Sprenkle, '98. Phrena will render a special program on Friday evening, Dec. 6th, entitled the "New Woman." Declamation, "A Dream of Possibilities," - - WOODS Essay, '"The 'New Woman' in the World of Sport," - CARNEY Declamation, "A Fearful state of Things/' - - LAUFFEH Oration, "The 'New Woman' in Politics," - - - OTT DEBATE: . "Which Makes the Better Wife, the 'New Woman' or the 'Conservative Woman?'" Aff (.FLECK, I MEISENHELDER, E. W., ' J STOCKSLAGER. .•»=»• J AJOSER. Declamation, "Will She?" . ROEHNER Oration, "The 'New Woman' in the Intellectual World," WOLF EXCHANGES. We are glad to add to our exchanges the Maryland Collegian, Lutherville, Md. It con-tains a good editorial department, and well written contributions, and is in every respect an excellent monthly. The Wittenberger among its foot-ball notes says of our former centre-rush : "Rank's cheerful voice is heard at all stages of the game. The darker the prospects, the more encouraging is our right guard's call." A recent number ot the same paper contains a good editorial on the honor system of gov-erning students. The Dickinsonian seems desirous of empha-sizing the fact, by mentioning it in several places, that the Dickinson students who wit-nessed the Buckuell-Gettysburg game, "root-ed" for Bucknell. It is fortunate they took this opportunity to yell for the winning side, as it is about the only one they have had this season. The Irving Skctch-Book begins its second volume with a very creditable number. This is one of the most attractive exchanges we re-ceive, and is always read with special pleasure. JTor all the latest styles in .uitini and Trousers, AND PULL LINE OF Cents' Furnishing Goods, Call on D. H. WELSH, York, Pa. (gO TO^ *H0m GETTYSBURG* TIMBER SHOP.*- Centre Square. <*^__B. M. SEFTON. ADVERTISEMENTS. A. G. SpaSding & Bros., roof BALL SUPPLIES A SPECIALTY. Every Requisite fop the Game. Jackets, Pants, Jerseys, Sweaters, Shoes, Caps, Belts, Stockings, Morrill's Nose Mask, Rubber Mouth-piece, Shin Guards, Head Harness. Spaldiiiy's Official Intercolle-giate Foot Ball Must be used in all Match Games. PRICE - - - ^s.oo Webster9s IM&ioaiary Invaluable in Office, School, and.Some Successor of the "Unabridged." Standard cf tho U. 0. Gov't Printing OGico, the U. S. Supreme Courfc,a:id of nearly all the Schoolbooka. SPALDING'S OFFICIAL FOOT BALL GU I DE~ N EW RULES-PICTURES OF ALL THE LEADING PLAYERS. Price 10c ttCUOSOttt WAUSTRMtO VOfM 6M_\_ CM\\_QQUt Sim TRtt NEW YORK. PHILADELPHIA. CHICAGO. Til HORACE PARTRIDGE CO. "Warmly commended by State Superintendents of Schools, and other Educators almost without number. THE BEST FOR EVERYBODY rt . . *. j ^. BECAUSE it is easy to find the word wanted. Words nre (riven their correct alphabetical placea, each one beginning a paragraph. [1 is easy to ascertain the pronunciation. The pronunciation is Indicated by the ordinary dlacrit. ically mariced letters used iuthoschoolbooks It is easy to trace the growth of a word. The etymologies nre full, unllhe different meanings are given in the order of 1 in ir development. It is easy t o learn what o word means. The definitions are clear, explicit, and full, and each 13 contained in a separate paragraph. G. & C. MEItRTAM CO., Publishers, Springfield, Mass., XJ. S. A. 03-Specimen pages, etc., Bent on application. BOj^R/JDIILTGh By Day, \A/eel< or Month. RATES REASONABLE. MOUSE EQUIPPED WITH ALL MODERN IMPROVEMENTS. 335 Washington St.,, BOSTON, WIASS. Grocery Store In same building. Full line of Goods kept and sold at small profits. House and Store located on Cor. of College Campus, opposite Brua Chapel. figj^Public Patronage Solicited. SAMUEL H. TAUaHINBAUSH, Prop'r. ifiiil M|iM| Isiliillfc Base Ball and % 9 & © Tgqqis Supplies : -t^fi -A SPECIALTY. 'T3-?i IVIr. \A/. H, MENGES, Our authorized agent at Gettysburg. N j Troy, N. Y., DANY, MAMOTACTOBBK OF SUPEfUOH BELLS. The 2,000 pound bell now ringing in the tower of Pennsylvania College was manufac-tured at this foundry. ADVERTISEMENTS. I V A V [ \ I. Classical Course for the Degree of A. B. II. Scientific Course for the Degree of B. S. III. Pest-Graduate Course for the Degree of Ph. D. IV. Special Course in all Departments. V. Elective Studies in Junior and Senior Year.-. VI. New Testament Greek and Hebrew in English Bible Department. Observatory, Laboratories and new Gymnasium. Four large buildings. All buildings heated with steam from central plant. Libraries, 25,000 volumes. Fine Museum. Expenses low. Department of Hygiene and Physical Culture in charge of an experienced physician. Accessible by frequent railroad trains. Location, on BATTLEFIELD of Gettysburg; most pleasant and healthy. PREPARATORY DEPARTMENT, in separate buildings, for boys and young men preparing for business or college, under special care of the principal and three assistants, residing with students in the building. For full particulars, apply for catalogue to HARVEY w. MCKNIGHT, D. D., LL. D., PKES'T.

10The Students' Attitudes Toward the Instructor's Code Switching in EFL Classroom Yesi Sehiling S1 Sastra Inggris, Fakultas Bahasa dan Seni Universitas Negeri Surabaya, Indonesia yesisehiling@gmail.com Abstract English has a big influence in the world. It can be seen that almost all of the country around the world put English as one of the foreign language which is taught in any level of the institutions. In Indonesia, English is taught from kindergarten until university level which is called as English as Foreign language. It is because the awareness that almost information around the world is provided in English, which is the key to make the generation moves forward following modern era.Because English is a foreign language, it may be hard to be learned to Indonesian society. So, to make it interesting, English should be delivered as enjoyable as possible and in the right way so that the learner can get the English learning well. Teaching English in Indonesia is usually delivered in English. But, there are some instructors sometimes use Indonesian to switch the code from English when teaching in the classroom. This study focuses on the use of code switching by the instructor and the students' attitudes toward the teacher's code switching in EFL clasroom. In fact, the researcher would like to know whether the language choice in teaching EFL classroom may influences the students' attitudes toward the language or not. This study used qualitative approach. The instruments which are used are some notes, video recorder and the researcher itself. To collect the data, this study uses observation, interview and questionnaire. The Objects of the study are in EFL classrooms (senior high school, English department and Indonesian department). The subjects of the study are the English teacher and the students. The findings of the study show that the use of code switching may be as simply talks and within any reason and perpose. The further findings indicate that the students' attitudes toward code switching by the instructor are largely influenced by the students' English proficiency. The less proficient students preferred the instructor to use both language which English should be minimized and Indonesian more explored. The more proficient students preferred the instructor to minimize the use of code switching if it is not needed enough and more explore English. Keywords: code switching, attitude, language attitude, EFL. Introduction Language is the most important thing for human life. By using language, the people can express their thought and sense to others (Humaidah, 2009: 2). But the most main function of language (Whatmough, 1957 :12) is to communicate each other. Communication is a kind of interaction which uses code that must be dealt by the speaker and the listener. If between the deliverer and the interlocutor does not know their code each other, their communication means nothing. Even though what they deliver consist some information, they will not be able to get what information is. In global world, people are obligated to be bilingual or multilingual which international language is included. It aims to make the people are able to interact with all the people around the world. Besides, all the world information must be provided in International language. By being able to understand International language, the people can access the information. English is an international language. It has a big influence. Almost all the countries in the world learn English. Indonesia does too. English is an important subject of school in Indonesia. It is taught in any level of school started from kindergarten, elementary school, junior high school, senior high school and university. It is hoped that the availability of English language as the subject of their school can contribute to the students' English language competence, which is the key to access information in the world. Besides, learning English aims that they are able to communicate using international language and have relation in international world considering international relationship is very important for life. In Indonesia, English is most taught as foreign language in formal setting. They are put in the classroom where the learning takes place. In this situation, the classroom is called as EFL (English as Foreign Language) classroom considering that Indonesia is non-English speaking country. According to Yletyinen (2004: 4), in EFL classroom, the learner learns English in an environment where there is only a little natural use of the language. Furthermore, the foreign language is treated equally to the other subjects with its homework and test. In EFL classroom in Indonesia, the teacher teaches the students English in order to make the students understand English by listening, reading, doing written and oral activities. The language of teaching is usually English. However, there are teachers sometimes change from English to Indonesian and vice versa in delivering the subject. This phenomenon is called as code switching. Code switching is very common in bilingual and multilingual societies. Wardhaugh (2006: 101) says that code switching is changing of codes from one code to another code or to mix the code in the same conversation. In the other words, code switching is the use of two or more languages in the same conversation. The code switching usage (Uys, 2000: 2) by the teacher in the class may have any reason or purpose such as the teacher uses code switching as strategy (Yletyinen, 2004: 53; Uys, 2000: 11) to explain in order to make the students understand what she/he has told or may be because she/he has less competence (Yletyinen, 2004: 72) in speaking English so she/he uses much Indonesian. This problem is very interesting topic to be discussed in this study especially related to student's attitude toward this phenomenon. Attitude is something that is got by the people through interaction with an object or accident. Attitude is not brought since baby but it is created through learning process in environment. There are factors that can change someone's attitude that are feeling, knowledge, experience and motive. Language is also related to attitude. Attitude toward language is called as language attitude. Language attitude is someone's attitude in choosing and deciding which language to be used. Language attitude is quite influenced by background and something happen in the environment. The students of Senior High School are in the high level of learning in school world under university students. They are expected to have good English skill after they graduate. In this case, the way of teaching them must also different from the previous grade. The capacity of using English rather than Indonesian of the teacher must influence the student's ability of English especially in speaking. In simply, using code switching by the teacher whether it is favored or disfavored by the students is focused in this study. There are earlier studies related to this paper done by Yletyinen (2004) which is titled the function of code switching in EFL Classrom. Then, Arrifin and Husin (2011) which is titled Code Switching and Code Mixing of English and Bahasa Malaysia in Content-Based Classroom and Alenezi (2010) which is titled Students' Language attitude Towards Using Code Switching as a Medium of Instruction in the College of Health Sciences: An Exploratory Study. Both of the studies analyze the language attitude towards code switching as a medium of instruction. The present study focused on the situation of code switching which is used by the teacher in the classroom and the student's attitude toward code switching by the instructor too. Research Question This research is guided by the following questions: Under what situation does the teacher use code switching in the classroom? How do the students take attitudes toward the teacher's code switching in the classroom? Purpose of the Study Related to the background of the study and the research question, the purposes of the study are: Describe the situation of the instructor's code switching in the classroom. Describe the students' attitudes toward the instructor's code switching. Significance of The Study The result of the study is hoped that can give contribution to sociolinguistics especially in the term of code switching and the attitudes toward code switching. But the most contribution may be for the teacher who teach EFL classroom in guiding the class to optimize positive attitude of the students toward English to get the better result of students' competence. Moreover, this study can give description to the people who will have research as this present study. Method Research method is the most important part of a research because it shows how the study is organized. This study uses qualitative method. Qualitative method is research procedure that produces descriptive data in the form of written words from the people or attitude that can be researched. This chapter consists of research design, subject, object, and the location, sources of the data, data collection techniques, instruments and data analysis. Research Design This study uses descriptive qualitative and quantitative data. According to Bodgan and Taylor on Margana's Disertasi (2012), descriptive qualitative uses data in the form of word, phrase, or clause whether written or spoken which is used to give overview of a certain description of phenomena about code switching. The quantitative data (Litosseliti, 2010: 52) enabless the the researcher to compare relatively large numbers of the students' attitudes in EFL classroom of the research which is as the main focus of the present study. Objects, subjects and location The objects of the study were classrooms of Senior High School, Indonesian department and English department that Senior High School was the main object and the others were to compare the result of the data. However, not all classrooms of the departments were researched but only one class of each department which was chosen randomly by the instructor. The objects were taken to compare the result considering their different level. Why should those objects be compared? Firstly, Senior High School is the highest level of obligated education program by Indonesian government. After graduating from this level, they were not obligated to continue their education in university. So that's why, they have to be given good skill in order to be able to get good enough job. It is quite related with their English skill because people who have good English competence and performance will get good/higher position than low English competence one of a company. Secondly, Indonesian department are the higher level of Senior High School. The perception is that the students of Indonesian have higher competence than Senior High School. But they may favor Indonesian rather than English considering their choice to choose Indonesian department rather than English department. Thirdly, English department is the department which the society use most English in their communication in the context of learning. All the students may have good English ability considering their ability to interact each other using English in the class. This object was used to compare and to get more varied data considering the different level and the English competence. The subjects of the study were all the societies in each classroom including the English teacher and the students. In this case, the teachers followed to answer Question 1 and the students followed to answer Question 2. Talking about the location, all of them are in East Java. Senior High School took place in SMA 1 Wonoayu. It is located in Pagerngumbuk village, Wonoayu, Sidoarjo. And, Indonesian department and English department took place in Universitas Negeri Surabaya which is located in Lidah Wetan village, Lakarsantri, Surabaya. Most societies of the institutions are multilingual (Javanese, Indonesian, and English). But, the language which is most used in classroom is Indonesian considering Indonesian is the formal language in Indonesia. However, it is the exception of English subject which English is most used. Moreover, the location takes place around the researcher's environment that could help the researcher to get the data easier. Data and Sources of Data This present study classifies the data into two types. They are linguistics and information data. The linguistics data is the situation of code switching by the teacher and the students' attitudes toward the code switching. The information data is obtained when the researcher conducted interview of the instructors about the reason of the use of code switching in the classroom and the interview and questionnaire of the students about the acceptability of the code switching by the instructor. The questions of the interview of the teacher was not listed but developed by each situation in each classroom. In the other hand, the interview of the students were listed which can be seen in Appendix 4 and the questionnaire which is adopted from the Likert scale (Arrifin and Husin, 2011) which was drawn below. No. Statement Strongly Agree Agree Disagree Strongly Disagree There were three kinds of source of data in the present study. They were people, place, and papers. The people were the instructors and the students of the institutions. The place was in the classroom. The papers were from the related theories which were gotten from the books, previous studies and internet. Research Instrument The instrument is used to facilitate and get the data. In this study, the data were collected by direct observation, questionnaire and interview. In doing the research, some tools were used to save the data by using some notes and video recorder. The gotten data is analyzed and related to the theories/previous studies. Question 1 : Under what situation does the instructor use code switching in the classroom? In order to answer question 1, direct observation and interview were used. Interview was used for the teacher to get more information about the reason of using code switching. In the interview activity, it was not made interview sheet because the interview was done directly based on the situation of code switching in each classroom. See Appendix 1,2 and 3 to get more details information. Question 2: How do the students take attitudes toward the teacher's code switching in the classroom? In order to answer question 2, questionnaire, interview and direct observation were used for the students. Questionnaire sheet was used to answer the Question. The interview and direct observation were also used to strengthen the data. The tools were video recorder. The data from the instrument was analyzed which also needed some theories relating to the study in analyzing the data. However, the researcher was the key instrument to answer those two questions. The researcher as the instrument means that the researcher became the determiner in collecting data. She paid attention, followed, took a note and analyzed the data. Data Collection Technique Data collection technique of this study was done by doing observation, interviewing, and giving questionnaire. Observation Direct observation was used to get the data. It was done to see the phenomenon of code switching by the instructor directly and how the students take attitudes toward the use of code switching by the instructor and to take a note the whole learning activity in the classroom. The direct observation was also video recorded. Interview This study uses spoken interview to collect the data. Both teacher and the students were interviewed. The tool was video recorder. Interview for the teacher (see Appendix 1,2,3) was done after the observation. In contrast, interview for the students (see Appendix 4) was done before the observation. The students who were interviewed was chosen randomly based on their English competence, higher competence and lower competence. The categorization of their English Competence was based on their score. Each instructor has their characteristic of giving score and categorizing the students whether they are less competence or more competence. The teacher of senior high school had requirement that the students who have score under 80, they are categorized as less competence and upper 80 as more competence. The lecturer of English department did say so. Whereas the lecturer of Indonesian department gave score under 70 for less competence and upper 70 for more competent students. Questionnaire Questionnaire was used for the students. There were 8 statements of the questionnaire. The questionnaire was given to all students in the classroom according to their presence when the research was done. Data Analysis In analyzing the data, there are some steps below: The data were classified according to the situation or specific time of the use of code switching by the instructor and the students' attitudes toward the use of code switching. However, the data collections of the interview were transcribed. The data were then analyzed based on the theories and previous studies. The data were interpreted and made conclusion about the result of the study and also provided some suggestion for the future study by the researcher. Results and Discussion The use of code switching The data reveal a clear pattern of instructor's language use in the classroom. All of the institutes above showed the use of code switching English-Indonesian or Indonesian-English by the instructor was common practice phenomenon. The characteristics of each institute also influence the frequent of the use code switching or the languages whether the more frequent was English or Indonesian. Senior high school institute used code switching balance whether English-Indonesian or Indonesian-English. It was different with Indonesian department that the institute used more frequent in Indonesian and unaware in using English. On the other side, the lecturer of English department used English more frequent in the classroom and Indonesian was just used in simply talks or just to give more explanation and example. Eventhough the institutes had their own characteristics, here the results of the code switching use in each institute were summerized into one. Those, code switching by the instructors in the classroom happened under situation below: Code switching happened in explaining the material which was used to make the explanation clearer to be understood by the students. According to Yletyinen (2004: 53), there are different strategies for explaining the material being taught by mentioning repetition, reformulation, clarification and exemplification. In the present data, code switching in explaining material is common which was happened in all the institutions whether in senior high school, Indonesian department and English department of university. This result supports Yletyinen's thesis (2004: 53) and Uys (2000: 44) which they found that the teacher has to clarify his/her message by code switching to the students' mother tongue and thus making the students more understand the material and do what the teacher asks to do. However, the code switching was most used in the senior high school. Code switching was used as the student's requirement. This reason of code switching is the same result with Youkhana (2010: 15) that the students tend to ask the teacher to change the code into mother tongue because they discomfort to the English used because it makes them confused to understand the instructor's speech. Code switching was used in joking. According to Weng, this function of code switching is called as poetic function that the speaker inserted some jokes, stories, some poetic quotation in the conversation. Joking (Uys, 2000: 44) in mother tongue is more understandable and felt rather that in foreign language because mother tongue has stronger role to catch the meaning. This finding is supported by Wardhaugh (2006: 112). He said that code switching can be used for humorous effect. In other words, code switching has purpose of joking. Code switching happened in simply talks which were with unawareness. This phenomenon is often happened. It was found in the three institutes in the research. The code switching was spoken accidentally, since it was not required. According to Yletyinen (2004: 95), this code switching is called lapse. Lapse was most frequent happened in Indonesian department which the instructor delivered her speech most in Indonesian and slipped English words sometimes. It is different with senior high school and English department which are commonly slipped Indonesian words. Code switching was used when the instructor was disappointed with the students. This code switching (Yletyinen: 2004: 89) is called as teacher admonition. She said that the mother tongue sometimes has more power in the foreign language classroom. This is also called as expressive function of code switching (Weng's article: 4) that the teacher uses code switching to express the emotion and mother tongue is often inserted to express the true feelings. This strategy by the instructor will make the students more alert, they response better to their mother tongue. Furthermore, they know that they do not have an excuse by appealing not to understand the teacher. In this case, code switching used when reprimanding students is the effective strategy. Code switching happened to get the students' attention. This is named directive function (Weng's article: 4). In the direct observation, the teacher asked "How many groups that have finished the assignment?" Almost of the students just kept silent. Then, the teacher asked again "berapa banyak group yang sudah menyelesaikan tugasnya?" The students answered the question by raising hands. Implicitly, The use of mother tongue had a purpose that was to get the students attention the teacher's speech. According to Yletyinen's thesis (2004: 70), code switching can be used in helping the less competent students to answer a question that the teacher asks. Yletyinen's statement supports the idea above that the teacher changed the code into Indonesian to help the students who most of them were less competent to understand the teacher's question and answer it. The use of Indonesian here was also aimed to help the students understand the question so that the students could answer the teacher's question. Not only that, code switching (Wardhaugh, 2006: 112) that is by choosing the preferred language of the students, the message will be easier to catch. The students' attitude This study shows that code switching of English and Indonesian is a common communicative behavior in the classrooms. However, this study is aimed to explore students' attitude towards the language of teaching in English class and the effects of the instructors' code switching to the students' English performance. The findings of this study indicate that the students' attitude toward code switching in the English class was largely influenced by the students' English language competence. Although in fact, The classrooms had each characteristics which senior high school class was the neutral one which was not in Indonesian department class or English department class. It is because the students commonly more favor the language they took as their majure than another one. The students of Indonesian department showed their favor to Indonesian much and the students of English department showed their favor to English. It was proved by their decision of taking those majure. So, eventhough they were in English subject classroom, they tended to consider their own majure. In the other hand, the students of senior high school take attitudes about code switching that were purely influenced by the students' English competence. The results show that the students with less proficiency prefer their teacher to use both English and Indonesian in the same capacity or larger use Indonesian. Alenezi (2010: 7) said that the students more desirable and believe that code switching of the teacher makes the course easy to understand. They would get difficulties to catch the meaning of the speech if the instructor used English a lot. Meanwhile the students with higher proficiency prefer their teacher to use more English. The findings are supported by the Arrifin's and Hussin's (2011: 237) study that the students with less English proficiency were more tolerant to the instructors' code switching compared to the more proficient group. The students with higher proficiency might believe that the use of English by the teacher could improve their language competence specifically in vocabulary. Weng's article also found that it can help the students to understand new vocabulary. The results are rather different in the English department which shows that the students were sometimes confused about the use of code switching by their lecturer that did not add their vocabulary. They believed that for adding vocabulary, it depends on their desire and their effort by reading English books, watching movie and listening the musics. They further argued that the use of code switching should be minimized. The argument was also founded in David's article (2008: 78) that it should be minimized because it is bad for the learner. It assumed that if the teacher often used that, it can make the bad behavior to the next generation and will be more difficult to avoid. However, all the students agreed that the use of code switching can increase their comprehension toward the lesson. Riegelhaupth (2000: 210) argued that bilinguals use the language that the people they speak to know best. In this case, the use of code switching has function to repeat the speech for better comprehension. The results also showed that code switching by the teacher had each effect to their psychology aspect. The lower proficient students were not confidence to speak English to the teacher who was using code switching. They tended to use Indonesian because they were afraid of making mistakes or troubles to their speaking if they use English. They thought that they had poor vocabulary and poor understanding of grammar. But if the teacher spoke in English, they would try speaking English too then use Indonesian to the words which they did not know the meaning. Different with the lower proficient students, the higher proficient students were still confidence to speak in English to the teacher who was using code switching even though in a simple sentence. However, sometimes, they tended to use Indonesian or code switching because they did not want to be seen showing off their English competence. Again and again, the students of English department had different results. The lecturer's code switching did not influence their confidence. Whatever language the lecturer used, they were still confident to speak English but sometimes they followed the language the lelcturer used just to respect him. It is supported by Spolsky (1998: 49) that one tends to respect people who are socially superior to one self. Conclusion and Suggestion Conclusion This chapter is summary of the findings in order to make the reader get a better understanding through reading the findings of this thesis. Actually, the main objective of this present study is to investigate the students' attitude toward the instructor's code switching behavior in EFL classroom. After doing the research, the results are: The first finding is the situation of code switching phenomena by the instructor which is about the reason or the purpose of using code switching in the classroom that is drawn commonly below: Code switching happened in explaining the material which was used to make the explanation clearer to be understood by the students' code switching was used as the student's requirement Code switching was used in joking Code switching happened in simply talks which were with unawareness. Code switching was used as admonition which is used when the instructor was disappointed with the students. Code switching happened to get the students' attention. There are also additional findings that the instructors' frequency of using English or the Indonesian is largely influenced by the characteristic of the classroom. Senior high school institute used code switching balance as a mean the same frequency whether English-Indonesian or Indonesian-English. It was different with Indonesian department that the institute used more frequent in Indonesian and unaware in using English. It is influenced by the students' favor toward Indonesian. On the other side, the lecturer of English department used English more frequent in the classroom and Indonesian was just used in simply talks or just to give more explanation and example. The second finding is the students' attitude toward the instructor's code switching in the classroom. The findings of this study indicate that the students' attitude toward code switching in the English class was largely influenced by the students' English language competence. Although in fact, The classrooms had each characteristics which senior high school class was the neutral one which was not in Indonesian department class or English department class. It is because the students commonly more favor the language they took as their majure than another one. The students of Indonesian department showed their favor to Indonesian much and the students of English department showed their favor to English. It was proved by their decision of taking those majure. So, eventhough they were in English subject classroom, they tended to consider their own majure. In the other hand, the students of senior high school take attitudes about code switching that were purely influenced by the students' English competence. The results show that the students with less proficiency prefer their teacher to use both English and Indonesian in the same capacity or larger use Indonesian. They would get difficulties to catch the meaning of the speech if the instructor used English a lot. Meanwhile the students with higher proficiency prefer their teacher to use more English. The students with higher proficiency might believe that the use of English by the teacher could improve their language competence specifically in vocabulary. The results are rather different in the English department which shows that the students were sometimes confused about the use of code switching by their lecturer that did not add their vocabulary. They believed that for adding vocabulary, it depends on their desire and their effort by reading English books, watching movie and listening the musics. The findings also showed that code switching by the teacher had each effect to their psychology aspect. The lower proficient students were not confidence to speak English to the teacher who was using code switching. They tended to use Indonesian because they were afraid of making mistakes or troubles to their speaking if they use English. They thought that they had poor vocabulary and poor understanding of grammar. But if the teacher spoke in English, they would try speaking English too then use Indonesian to the words which they did not know the meaning. Different with the lower proficient students, the higher proficient students were still confidence to speak in English to the teacher who was using code switching even though in a simple sentence. However, sometimes, they tended to use Indonesian or code switching because they did not want to be seen showing off their English competence. Again and again, the students of English department had different results. The lecturer's code switching did not influence their confidence. Whatever language the lecturer used, they were still confident to speak English but sometimes they followed the language the lelcturer used just to respect him. Suggestion The instructor in EFL classroom should know the students' attitude toward the language used well so that she/he can use the right way in teaching English in EFL classroom in order to get the best result of the students' English competence. This study may be far from being perfect. It is hoped that there will be further researchers who conduct the research on the phenomenon of code switching by the instructor in the classroom and the students' attitude toward it for more detail data/explanation and from many points of view. References Alenezi, Abdullah. (2010). Students' Language Attitude Towards Using Code-Switching as a Medium of Instruction in the College of Health Sciences: An Exploratory Study, vol.7, 1-22 Arrifin, Kamisah and Husin, MisyanaSusanti. (2011). "Code Switching and Code Mixing of English and Bahasa Malaysia in Content Based Classrooms: Frequency and Attitudes".The Linguistics Journal.Vol 5 issue 1 David. (Desember, 2008).Understanding Mixed Code and Classroom Code-Switching: Myths and Realities. Ongkong Institute of Education.Hongkong.Vol 56, No.3 Faris, NurulElfatul. 2012. Alih Kode Dalam Proses Belajar-MengajarKelas VII Mts "AL-KAutsar" Srono Banyuwangi.UniversitasJember, Jember. Gardner-Chloros, Penelope. 2009. Code Switching. UK: Cambridge University Press. Litosseteliti, Lia. 2010. Research Methods in Linguistics. New York: Continuum. Riegelhaupth, Florencia. 2000. Code Switching and Language Use in the Classroom. Research on Spanish in the U.S., ed. Ana Roca, 204-217. Somerville,MA: Cascadilla Press. Spolsky, Bernard. 1998. Sociolinguistics. UK: Oxford University Press. Uys, David. 2010. The functions of teachers' code switching in multilingual and multicultural high school classrooms in the Siyanda District of the Northern Cape Province: Stellenbosch University. Wardahugh, Ronald. 2006. An Introduction to Sociolinguistics. UK: Blackwell Publishing. Wardani, Devi. (2013), Skapbahasasiswaterhadapbahasa Indonesia: studikasus di SMA Negeri 1 Singaraja. E-Journal Program Pascasarjana Universitas Pendidikan Ganesha, Vol. 2 Weng, Pei-shi. Code Switching as a Strategy Use in an EFL Classroom in Taiwan.Tamkang University, Taiwan. Whatmough, Joshua. 1957. Language: A Modern Synthesis. New York: St. Martin's Press. Yletyinen, Hanna. 2004. The functions of code switching in EFL classroom. University of Jvyoskyl: Finland. Youkhana, Sana. 2010. Code Switching in the Foreign Language Classroom. Ogskolan: Jonkoping.

Part one of an interview with Irene Vilakari of Leominster, Massachusetts. Topics include: Irene Vilakari was born in Helsinki, Finland in 1922. Her parents both died while she was a child. She was cared for by her older sisters. They came to the U.S. just after World War II and lived with relatives in Boston. They got Social Security cards and then found jobs at the Harvard printing press. Their trouble staying in the U.S. legally as immigrants from Finland. What life was like in Helsinki. How Irene and her sisters got along after their parents died. The work they did. What life was like during World War II. How they moved to the U.S. from Finland. ; 1 SPEAKER 1: Mrs. Vilakari, where were you born? MRS. VILAKARI: I was born in Helsinki, Finland, 19… SPEAKER 1: What? MRS. VILAKARI: Uh, uh, 22. SPEAKER 1: Can you briefly describe your early years in your homeland, like your family, the jobs, your parents, things like that? MRS. VILAKARI: Yes, you know, uh I eh I was uh three years old were my father died and I was twelve years old when my mother died, and since, ever since I lived with my two sisters. And uh, uh they were uh two and uh three years older than I was. And ah, ah um I, I lived you know – I, I, I consider myself having now happy, happy life, you know. I never felt anything, you know, it wasn't too rich because there are no not too many rich people in Finland anyway. They're all uh kind of a middle class. And I, I had very happy childhood. And the only thing was, you know, when my parents died, that was the saddest part, which when you're young, your fortunate that you know it doesn't, it doesn't hit you as hard as you know if thus one you know… SPEAKER 1: Oh. MRS. VILAKARI: Experience something like that when your old – older, I mean. I know we are old. [Laughter] But, you know, my sisters died here just a few years ago and that was quite different. And uh then the war was the next uh, uh… the two wars, I was in Finland. I was right in Helsinki all the time, you know, when we had the 1939 War, First, the winter war. And then the Second World War, you know, it started in 1941. There was one year in between, you know, one year of peace. And then uh, you know, I uh I… right after that, I left for America. And we never had any idea. We had the uh our half-sister was living here, and uh after war she wrote to us that, you know, we – if we maybe would like to come to visit America, and we got at all excited. Of course, we wanted to come2 to visit America. And she said that maybe you like to live here, you know, if you like it well enough, so we started to get out papers ready. That is very hard to get them. I don't exactly know how to say it, you know. You have to have a permission to leave the country at that time, you know, because it was shortly after war. SPEAKER 1: Yeah. MRS. VILAKARI: And they were very short of men. And we were doing men's job because of the war. We have started to do a line at that operating in a newspaper. That's why they didn't want us to leave. So they say that, you know, they won't give us a permit because they said for sure we are not coming back if we go to America. They didn't know that you're just not going to stay in this country if you have a visitor's visa, you know. Everybody in Finland know that, you know, same as years before, if you came to this country, you could stay if you wanted to. SPEAKER 1: Yeah. MRS. VILAKARI: But, no, the laws were so strict at that time already, that you couldn't, you could have stayed if you never had anything to do with the law or if you didn't want to work with the permission and you could never have anything to do with the, whatever you have to do with the state or pensions or anything like that, you know. You could have – it's just like an outlaw, you know. You could have stayed here but, you know, not – we didn't want to… when we wanted to come here. And then again with the legal papers so that we know that we can stay and be citizens who are now these days. We have very nice here, you know, that year when we were here; that's why we liked it so well, you know. Our sister, half-sister, and her husband, of course, they had a – I don't know how you… would you call it rooming house? SPEAKER 1: Yeah, boarding house.3 MRS. VILAKARI: Boarding house, yes. But they didn't serve food, you know. They had students from MIT and Boston University. They bought an old millionaire's house on Commonwealth Avenue. SPEAKER 1: Wow. MRS. VILAKARI: And they had lots of students, so they were all young people. They cleaned their rooms and changed the linens you know, but no food. SPEAKER 1: No food. MRS. VILAKARI: No. And that's where we lived that first year and we had such a nice time that we didn't want to – SPEAKER 1: Just here visiting first. MRS. VILAKARI: Yes, yeah, that's right, yes. But, you know, do you have room enough you know? SPEAKER 1: Yeah. MRS. VILAKARI: So like I tell, I have a lot to tell. SPEAKER 1: Okay. MRS. VILAKARI: When we came, we told our brother-in-law because that's what they said on the boat, you know. The officials said many times that we cannot work because we had visitors visa, and when we came we told our brother-in-law that we wanted to work because we wanted to get some money for ourselves. But we said we cannot work because they said it's illegal, you know, because we have to have a permanent visa. SPEAKER 1: Working visa. MRS. VILAKARI: That's right, yes, if we are able to work. [Laughter] And he said that if we can get the Social Security card, that's the permission to work. I think that he really thought that that was the, you know… SPEAKER 1: The right to work. MRS. VILAKARI: Permission we needed, because when he came—I think now we would be more than 50 years ago—he didn't have to have any permission so, you know, he was so sure that if we get the Social Security Card…4 SPEAKER 1: That's all you need, yeah. MRS. VILAKARI: We are able to work. So we sent to the Social Security office. And they don't ask you a passport; they don't ask what kind of visa you have. Do you know that? SPEAKER 1: No. MRS. VILAKARI: No, they don't ask anything. And we didn't know English. We all got our Social Security cards and we were so happy. My goodness, why did they say so many times that we can't work if it's so easy? But we were just happy that we were able to work. So we went to Harvard; we worked at the Harvard Printing press that year. We went to Harvard, and they searched our papers very carefully and they have a special person – now I can't remember her name. But anyway, she was the person that knew all the research because there a lot of students that come from other countries, so they are very familiar with their visa business you know. And when we went there, that lady happened to be on a lunch, and they told us we have to go and see her. And then there was another person, a man, who was kind of a taking care of her business while she was on lunch. He shook our hands and said, "Welcome to work," and so we thought, "Aha, everything is okay." [Laughs] SPEAKER 1: Geez. MRS. VILAKARI: Wasn't that funny, you know? SPEAKER 1: Yeah. MRS. VILAKARI: That test? SPEAKER 1: Yeah, yeah, you were just lucky. MRS. VILAKARI: Luck, yes. When we think there so many places we had to go through and we always told the truth. And then we worked there until our visa… we had visa for one year. SPEAKER 1: Uh-huh.5 MRS. VILAKARI: And when six months was gone, it said in our papers that then we would have to ask permission for the other six months but we would get it but we would have to apply again. So we went to the Immigration office and we said we would like to have more visa. They asked right away, "How come you've been working?" Then we told, you know, they took us in separate rooms and interviewed us separately so that we wouldn't know what one was saying. But we decided, we said that we tell everything just as it is, so you know everybody would – SPEAKER 1: Everything was the truth. MRS. VILAKARI: That's right. SPEAKER 1: It was the truth. MRS. VILAKARI: Yeah. SPEAKER 1: It was just like you said. MRS. VILAKARI: Yes, I did, because it wasn't our fault. We told everybody that we have visitor's visa. And then they warned that the interview of me – I think that I know little more English than my sisters, you know, like some people learn a language a little bit better. I didn't know it well, but anyway, he wrote 17, you know, sheets of papers. SPEAKER 1: Wow. MRS. VILAKARI: And all very, very, very close, you know. He ended up with that much about, you know, that thing; I never think it would have been that bad. Then they said that now we have to see their boss and he will tell us what to do. And when we went to see the boss, oh he was so mad. We were crying, you know, because felt that we haven't done anything wrong. SPEAKER 1: Really? MRS. VILAKARI: But then the fellow who interviewed me—his name was Mr. Powers—he told the other fellow, "Please read the papers first and then decide if they have done so wrong." And then he said, "Okay, don't do anything now. Don't quit in Harvard before I write you a 6 letter. It would be coming in a week or two," he said, to know after he has a chance to read the interview. "Then I will let you know what you have to do." That was in April when we applied for more visa. SPEAKER 1: What year was this again? MRS. VILAKARI: April. SPEAKER 1: What year? MRS. VILAKARI: That was 1947. SPEAKER 1: Okay. MRS. VILAKARI: Yeah. But then when we applied for more visa, it was 1948 already because we came 1947 July, and then next spring we started to apply for more permission to stay. But that letter never came. It came in August the next year. He let us work because we said we don't have money to go back, that we have to make so much money. Because we understood that we can stay here if we wanted to, we never thought we have to leave, so it was kind of we came here with false pretense – how do you say…? SPEAKER 1: False pretence. MRS. VILAKARI: Yeah. Because we didn't know that you actually cannot work and you cannot stay here. They said that you have to first vote. SPEAKER 1: Where did you get your ideas from? The ones that you – because everybody else had told you it was… like your relatives? MRS. VILAKARI: Yes, no, all the emigrants that had come before. We were almost the only ones that left Finland at that time because after war, nobody could get the permission to go out from Finland SPEAKER 1: But everybody else had told you it was – MRS. VILAKARI: Yes. Oh everybody said, "Oh, you can." But, you know, they really thought so. SPEAKER 1: Yeah MRS. VILAKARI: They didn't know that the laws had changed, you know. They thought it was the same thing. When they stayed, you know, from 7 the boats, there were lots of seamen working on the boats. They came here and they stayed; they never had to go back. I don't remember what year it was when they changed the law that you cannot stay anymore. SPEAKER 1: But they didn't know why. MRS. VILAKARI: Everybody who had come 1920 before that could stay without any papers. I'm not saying that it is so but anyway I know that there was a year when they changed the law that you cannot stay without coming to this country with the proper papers. SPEAKER 1: And they never informed you people. MRS. VILAKARI: No, no, no. SPEAKER 1: So it was an innocent mistake, really. MRS. VILAKARI: Yeah, that's right, yes, because we didn't know. I was seventeen or… no, no, I was old at that time when we came here. When the war started, I was seventeen, but I think I was twenty-five, but I mean, you know… SPEAKER 1: Still young. MRS. VILAKARI: Yes. And when people told me it was so, I believed. I didn't even think that – because they had stayed here. My sister came here to study English. She was studying languages in Helsinki University and she came here to study English and, see, on one year's permission, but she got married, you know. SPEAKER 1: Yeah. MRS. VILAKARI: And that's how she stayed. But she could have stayed at that time, because it was before that time that the law was changed, so that's how, you know… [Laughter] You know, that's quite a story. SPEAKER 1: How about us go back to when you were living in Finland? What kind of jobs did your parents have? MRS. VILAKARI: My mother was a housewife, and my father was, in very early years, he was a blacksmith from his occupation, but then he had 8 the – I don't know. Maybe we'll call it trucking business, like the deliveries, you know. SPEAKER 1: Yeah. MRS. VILAKARI: He delivered things, you know, that kind of a business. Then before he died, you know, or later. Yes, because I was only three years old when he died, so I really don't remember much, and because I was only twelve when my mother died, you know… SPEAKER 1: So you could not – MRS. VILAKARI: There wasn't any that I could ask anything. SPEAKER 1: Remember anything. MRS. VILAKARI: Yeah, that's it. Now I am sorry because, you know, there would have been so many things I would like to know about the early years but I just know what people are telling and there are nobody close. My sisters were, you know, one was two years older than I and the other one was three years older than I, so they didn't know much better, you know. SPEAKER 1: Yeah. MRS. VILAKARI: That's why I – SPEAKER 1: Who brought you up? MRS. VILAKARI: We… just three of us. SPEAKER 1: Just three you girls? MRS. VILAKARI: Yeah, we're three girls. SPEAKER 1: You mean you didn't have anybody else to help you? MRS. VILAKARI: Well, you know, first, when our mother died, I was twelve and she was fifteen, so we couldn't live with just three of us. We had one lady that we used to live in Helsinki earlier. She was living in the next door and she was in Salvation Army, a very religious person, you know, and we always liked her so much and we know that she was living alone. And then when our mother died, first we lived with our aunt and then our cousins, but, you know, it was too much. They had three daughters themselves and then three of us,9 you know, it was too much for them and it wasn't nice for us either, because we really didn't have a… SPEAKER 1: Get along, yeah. MRS. VILAKARI: Kind of a home feeling. Yes. And we had a condominium; we own a condominium, and then we said that we would like to live in our own condominium and have somebody live with us, you know, adopt us. And when we went to ask Miss [Kowalkowski] was her name, she thought that it was a sign from the God that she had a thing to do, you know, to bring us up. SPEAKER 1: Yeah. MRS. VILAKARI: And then she lived with us until war, then she went to live with her own. I think they were her brother's daughters, you know, then she went there because they were living outside of the Helsinki and she didn't want to be in Helsinki when the war [broke] and everything. So, that's how she lived. SPEAKER 1: Who supported your family, though, that lady you sought? MRS. VILAKARI: No, we worked. SPEAKER 1: You all worked. MRS. VILAKARI: Yes, you know – SPEAKER 1: Did any of you go to school for a while? MRS. VILAKARI: Yes, yeah, you know, elementary school is a must in Finland, but then after that, you have to pay for your own schooling. You don't get high school for nothing like here. So we went to school at nights and we worked during daytime. SPEAKER 1: Oh. What kind of jobs did you do? MRS. VILAKARI: You know… SPEAKER 1: Besides – well, you told me about the [liner] type. MRS. VILAKARI: Yes. I was 13 years old when I went to do work for the newspaper as an errand girl. That's when I started. I was there since I came to this country. I was then already 50 years before I came to this country.10 SPEAKER 1: Wow. MRS. VILAKARI: And as an errand girl, I think I was couple of years and then they took me as an apprentice, you know, to the… SPEAKER 1: [That in the bottom]… MRS. VILAKARI: Yes, yes, that's right. SPEAKER 1: Did your sisters work in the same place? MRS. VILAKARI: Yes. Yeah, we all worked at the Helsinki Sanomat. That's Finland's biggest newspaper. SPEAKER 1: So you made enough to you made enough to live a comfortable life? MRS. VILAKARI: Oh, yes, you know, it's a very good, you know, very well paid occupation in Finland. SPEAKER 1: So it wasn't that difficult to live then? MRS. VILAKARI: No, no, we didn't had… and you know when you're young… I remember sometimes, not before, you know, it's a five-year apprenticeship so you don't get the pay so fast, you know, although you get it eventually but you don't [indulge] when we all didn't have so much, you know. Oh, we didn't have a worry. One thing was good that, you know, we didn't have to pay any rent. Our condominiums in Finland are so old already that they have them so long time. They are condominium that we owned. We didn't have to pay any rent; we got dividend. SPEAKER 1: Ah-huh. MRS. VILAKARI: Instead of paying rent every month, imagine, you know, we got quite a lot of dividend every year. We could live free and still get money from the place, because it was a big apartment house and they had oak stores on the street level, so those stores paid very good rent. That's why, you know, the other expenses were paid by the stores, so – SPEAKER 1: That really fortunate.11 MRS. VILAKARI: Yeah. Yes, it was. Sometimes I remember we didn't have much money, and we wanted to go to movies. Oh, American movies, boy, they were, they were the most. SPEAKER 1: Really? MRS. VILAKARI: Yes. Sometimes with our last money we went to movies and we said, "Oh somebody will lend us some money tomorrow," and we always got some money, you know. [Laughter] SPEAKER 1: Really? MRS. VILAKARI: Yes, next day, so that we lived to the next payday. Those were happy days. I never remember, you know, anything bad – SPEAKER 1: Well, you were younger during the depression time so… MRS. VILAKARI: Yes, yeah, I wasn't born exactly – no, no, yes, I was. I was, yes. SPEAKER 1: You found freedom. MRS. VILAKARI: Yes, yeah, that side, yes, because 32 was the depression. But I really don't remember having any famine. SPEAKER 1: Being hungry or anything. MRS. VILAKARI: And I don't think that that was so much felt in Finland because there, like in this country, they made it so big because there are so many rich that lost everything so it was felt so much. SPEAKER 1: Yeah. MRS. VILAKARI: But in Finland – SPEAKER 1: Even the common people felt that the bread lines… MRS. VILAKARI: Yeah, yes. SPEAKER 1: And people are starving, you know. MRS. VILAKARI: Yeah, that time, I don't remember at all. I don't think that there was anything like that. SPEAKER 1: Where you live, was it more country-like or…? MRS. VILAKARI: Yes, no Helsinki, it's just a… Sp SPEAKER 11: It's a city? MRS. VILAKARI: Yeah. SPEAKER 1: So you didn't have –12 MRS. VILAKARI: Five hundred thousand people. SPEAKER 1: Like you can grow your own food or anything. MRS. VILAKARI: No, no. SPEAKER 1: So you had to work. It was right in the city. MRS. VILAKARI: Yes, but I don't remember having shortage of food any other time but during war time. That was the only – SPEAKER 1: Was it that bad during war time? MRS. VILAKARI: It was kind of bad, you know, for people who would like [Swiss] and things, but we never cared for that. We never bought any black market stuff like that. We really were very fortunate. We like bread, you know, and you could get bread with coupon they give us, you know. They started very early because the First World War was so bad and they got experience from that. When this second war started… SPEAKER 1: They were ready for it. MRS. VILAKARI: Right, they started right away in Finland to ration it, so that they didn't run low first and then started but they said that it's better to start to do it right away so that we would have a little reserved. So, you know, even there war time wasn't bad, you know. We were in that age, you know, you don't worry too much. SPEAKER 1: You don't think about it. MRS. VILAKARI: That's right, it is. When you are under twenty, you know, you're kind of taking it day after day. The only thing was, you know, bombings were awful. SPEAKER 1: Oh, yeah, can you remember some of the military things like the bombings? MRS. VILAKARI: Yes, yeah, they were awful, you know. Very often we had to sit hours in a cellar. You know, they make kind of shelters in houses, in the cellar. But the worst was just before the peace came, you know, and they were bombing Helsinki, they came every tenth night.13 SPEAKER 1: Oh yeah. MRS. VILAKARI: They came three times in a row, and it started 7 o'clock at night and we stayed until daylight, you know. In the morning, it was you know… SPEAKER 1: It was horrible to come out and see what had happened. MRS. VILAKARI: Yes. But no – I don't know if this is nice to say, but it was so poor bombing that they didn't do nearly as much damage that, you know, as many bombs they dropped. SPEAKER 1: Yeah, that was very fortunate. MRS. VILAKARI: Yes. And Helsinki is so among sea that a lot of them went to sea, you know, in the water. There was a bomb dropped right next – you know, when we had our apartment here, a bomb dropped but it didn't explode. Wasn't it impossible? SPEAKER 1: You got a lot of luck, you know. MRS. VILAKARI: Yeah. It would have been a big one, you know. It's 500 kilos; that would have made lots of damage if it had exploded, but it didn't. And we didn't know. We were seating in a show. Then they were making, you know, dead tallies… SPEAKER 1: I know what you mean. MRS. VILAKARI: Yes, yeah. So we didn't even know, but afterwards they told us. It was sitting there and they said it was awfully exciting for the people who had to go there, you know. It had dropped in a hallway and then people had had their linen in a suit case, you know, so it would be easy if something came and you have to take your belongings if there's burning or something. You know, it was just a flat sheet of cloth and it was so heavy, the bomb, and it was it has been rolling under the suitcase that it had flattened the linen and all, you know, flat. But, you know, we were very fortune. I think almost everybody's windows were broken. I don't think that there were any home that didn't have any, that their whole windows left open when the war was ended. But we had only 14 cardboards; it was no sense to replace them during the war because, you know, they would have just a vibration, you know. It was so scary SPEAKER 1: Do you remember what it was like when peace finally came? Was there lots of celebrations? MRS. VILAKARI: Oh, it was it was wonderful feeling when the lights came on, on the streets. That time I remember to have a tickle, you know. SPEAKER 1: You could have a … MRS. VILAKARI: No. And everybody had to cover their window so that you couldn't see because they always came every night and, you know, they couldn't shoot them when they were in the dark; that's why they came during night. That was the only thing that I remember so clearly, that how happy we were when the streets lights came on and it look just like a heaven in a night, you know, when it was so light, but you get used to it. And it was funny, you know, people were, I think, much better during war time. There was no crimes or… SPEAKER 1: Everybody – MRS. VILAKARI: People were much more helpful and honest. SPEAKER 1: They had to be, to survive. MRS. VILAKARI: Yeah, that's right, you know. SPEAKER 1: And then when you weren't under pressure anymore? MRS. VILAKARI: People were much healthier when they couldn't get this rich food. They said people were much healthier because they were skinnier. No, no. SPEAKER 1: Probably. MRS. VILAKARI: Yeah, yes, all the cholesterol, you know. They had to do without then, you know. That's why all the doctors said that people were much healthier because they were so skinny. SPEAKER 1: It has its good and bad effects of the war.15 MRS. VILAKARI: Yes, that's right. Yes, there is always good and bad. You know, you couldn't think that you can take war so many years, but it's amazing, you know, and you don't even bother with all that fat – SPEAKER 1: You probably had to get used to that. MRS. VILAKARI: That's right, yes. Yes, you do, yes. But oh it was nice when it ended and you didn't have to think about the alarms, you know. You are all somehow thinking, especially those days when they were coming so frequently, "Now I'm here. Where is the next shelter in case? SPEAKER 1: That's usually part of war, you know. MRS. VILAKARI: Yes, you could see always when people are running, you know; you run after them. SPEAKER 1: So you came to this country, like it's to visit the first time. Why did you decide to come to this country to live? MRS. VILAKARI: Because we liked it so much. We liked it very well when we are here the first time. But when we went to Finland, we really didn't think about it. We went right away to the American embassy to put our name on a list. You have to wait for your turn; you have to get a number. And because in 19, I think, I don't really know. It was 1980 when they made the law so that how many people they know – they made the quota system. At that time, there were so few people coming from Finland. Finland got very low number, you know, so that there were only about 500 people allowed to leave Finland in a year – I mean to come to this country from Finland. So, you know, we had to wait. They said at first that we might have to wait three or four years. But I don't know what happened. It was two and half years when we got the notice from the embassy that "now your turn is coming; you better start to prepare your papers." Then after that, we didn't even think if we are coming back or not because we didn't have any bad life in Finland. We didn't. It was mostly because of the Russians; it's 16 just always that feeling that, you know – now it's different. It's kind of settled, but during that time, still it was… SPEAKER 1: You didn't know what was going to happen. The Russians were… MRS. VILAKARI: Yeah, yes, that's right yes, for us the uncertainty of thing, you know. That's why we thought that we would come back. But then when we got to the notice, then we got all excited again. [Laughs] We started to get our papers ready. SPEAKER 1: So you planned for everything? And how much time did they tell you will be able to go, when they give you the notice then? MRS. VILAKARI: It would happen, I suppose, you know in our own… when we could get our papers and packed. But the only thing was that we had to reserve the boat. SPEAKER 1: Passage, yeah. MRS. VILAKARI: Yes, because those were very hard to get at that time too, and that's why that was the only thing that we had to know when to leave. But, otherwise, you know, the papers –I'm sure that in time they would have become too old, but it wasn't anything in two months or so you have to go, but just you know to prepare your papers. But we had our number and that was our number. I don't know how many years they would have hold it, but because we had waited for the number, we had it – SPEAKER 1: All the time you are waiting to hear from them, you're probably still thinking how much how you want to go and everything. That didn't occupy your mind that much but it still was there. MRS. VILAKARI: Oh, yes, yes we were thinking that, you know, we were going someday, but we didn't think every moment that's all, boy… SPEAKER 1: After a couple of years of waiting, you don't… MRS. VILAKARI: That's right. You can't wait that long, you know, to think about it every minute. SPEAKER 1: How about other people? How did they feel about you going? Were they happy for you and or they tell not to?17 MRS. VILAKARI: No, no, they didn't tell us. They thought that we are very lucky to get here but they were sad that we were leaving. We have lots of very good friends in Finland. But otherwise they thought that we are very lucky to be able to because there were very few people who could do it. Financially and everything, you know, it's very expensive but we couldn't have paid our trip in Finnish money at that time. Finland didn't give dollars so we had to get the money from here and then pay back when we came here. SPEAKER 1: How did you go about doing that? Did you send it to the relatives? MRS. VILAKARI: Yes. We have that half-sister here but then, you know, when we came the second time… she's not my cousin, you know. She is her cousin from her mother's side; we have same father, and she sponsored us then, because when you sponsor three people to be an immigrant, you have to have a certain amount of money. And that time, they were just leaving from Boston to New Hampshire and they had everything in a kind of a mess, you know. I mean, not that not anything was wrong, but I mean, you know, everything was unsettled. So her cousin said that they were [taken] into it because they were very well off, you know. And then the second time, my sister was already living in New Hampshire, the half-sister, so we didn't want to go there; it was too much like country; we wanted to go the city. SPEAKER 1: How about, when did you leave your homeland? What was the date, do you remember? Well, even the month. MRS. VILAKARI: Yes, we arrived here the second time when we stayed permanently, 13 February. It took two weeks, so it must have been in the beginning of February. SPEAKER 1: What year was this, again? MRS. VILAKARI: 1951 was the one we came the second time. SPEAKER 1: And how did you come here? MRS. VILAKARI: First, we arrived in New York.18 SPEAKER 1: By boat? MRS. VILAKARI: Yes, by boat, by [Gripson] 51; we arrived by that boat. And our cousins and - no, no in the meantime, we had met some people from New Canaan in Connecticut we have met in Finland and they visited us and we took them around a lot. And when we came they said, "Please, come to our house first and then we will take you to Pittsburg – or Maine." We were going to Maine then. And that's how we spent one week, you know, with them in New Canaan first. It's so near New York and we spent one week with them and we went to New York to see [Anget Yogan]. [Laughs] We had very, very nice time there, and then we came to Maine and… SPEAKER 1: What was the cost, do you remember, the boat ride? How much it cost from over… MRS. VILAKARI: I think that for three for us, they took loan from a workers' credit union. That's how we asked. We said that you know if they can get the loan from somewhere that we can then pay back to straight to the bank so they don't have to tie their own money, and they did that – because we knew from the first time that you can do things like that. So in Pittsburg, you know, there is workers credit union and that's where they had borrowed the money. It was some 600 and something for three of us, I think, you know. I can't remember exactly but I remember it was something a little over 600 dollars. So it must have been 200 and something for one person, the ticket for the boat trip. SPEAKER 1: So who came with you? You had your two sisters? Anybody else you knew? MRS. VILAKARI: No, no. We met on the boat but there wasn't anybody with us, you know, just three of us./AT/jm/ee