Suchergebnisse

Issue 60.6 of the Review for Religious, 2001. ; ° R-eview for Re!igio~s b~lps people re~pon~ and befaithful to.God's, universal ~ail to holiness' ' " by making; available tO them the sl~irituai legades - " tb~t flow-~om the, charisms of Catbolicconsecrated life~ Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bimonthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ° Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ° Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP Mount St. Mary's Seminary; Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address chafiges to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2001 Review for Religious 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 pers6nal 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. vi,ew for religious LIVING OUR CATHOLIC LEGACIES Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe TracT Gramm Judy Sharp James and Joan Felling Adrian Gaudin SC Sr. Raymond Marie Gerard FSP Eugene Hensell OSB Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ Ernest E. Larkin OCarm Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ NOVEMBER DECEMBER 2001 VOLUME 60 NUMBER 6 contents 566 a wider mission The Interreligious World: A Nun's Experience There Mary C. Boys SNJM probes aspects of religious life in light of the Catholic-Jewish relationship and provides a testimony that emboldens her continued commitment to this lifeform. 581 'Unsuspected Mission A. Paul Dominic SJ identifies the mission of spiritual conversation as the basic apostolic work of Jesus and of all who are his followers. 594 spiritual directions On the Seventh Day God Rested Marie Beha OSC suggests ways of understanding and making more creative use of Sabbaths in our life. 602 Where Your Heart Is Donald Macdonald SMM sees in Jesus' journey to Jerusalem (in Luke) an ardor and constancy that our bonding with him through Sc~ipture's strong and burning words can accomplish also in us. Review for Religious evaluations 614 628 Criteria for Change: Women's Ministering to the Body of Christ Marie Brinkman SCL looks at the lives lived by sisters in the past as the foundation that must validate today's discernment criteria for the needed changes. Missionary or Mercenary Patrick Sean Moffett CFC offers a perspective on changes in membership, changes in collaboration, and changes in corporate commitment in order to stimulate discussion on community apostolates. 640 647 divine initiatives What Only God Can Make Ann Marie Paul SCC imaginatively ponders religious community pictured as a tree, with the trunk representing chastity, the branches poverty, and the leaves obedience. God's Will: Where Desires Commingle Denis Donoghue SJ ruminates on the seeking out of God's will and illustrates some principles of discernment in a personal'example. departments . 564 Prisms 655 Canonical Counsel: Readmission to a Religious Institute 661 Book Reviews 667 Indexes to Volume 60 November-Dece~nber 2001 prisms All of us have to be born and have to die. These "have to's" sound like some activity we must do, when both are rather something that happens to us. "Being born" and "being dying" are the leveling events that bookend all human life. What fills the space in between seems to spell out nothing but all the hills and valleys, rolling vineyards and desert wastelands, that represent the inequalities of human living. Some people are born into wealth, and they will never know want. Others are only fortunate enough at birth to have a mother healthy enough to give them mother's milk, but they will go through life malnour-ished and disease-prone. Some are born highly gifted and fail ever to develop their talents. Others struggle through life with a minimum of human endowments, but successfully act with a perennial zest. Some will spend their life in steel and glass skyscrapers, and others will know only the simplest of grass or plywood huts. Some will travel the world; others will know only their village. Except for "being born" and "being dying," we human beings seem to spend lifetimes of greatly unequal value. There seems to be no level playing field for all people to encounter each other on. God engages the inequalities of human life in the incarnation and birth of his Son. In the familiar hymn quoted in St. Paul's letter to the Philippians, our atti-tude must be "that of Christ: Though he was in the form of God, he did not deem equality with God something to be grasped at. Rather, he emptied himself and took the form of a slave, being born in the likeness of men. He was known to be of human estate, and it was thus that he humbled himself, obediendy accepting even death, death on a cross" (Ph 2: 5-9). Paul reflects that God takes on a true inequality. In becoming human, Christ goes from the fullness of divin- Review for Religious i'ty to the emptiness of humanity. Theologically, humanity is empty because everything that each of us has is gift, as Jesus reminds us in saying that all his words and his works are not his, but come from the Father. So in faith we know an inequality that is real between God and the human. But, then, in God's becoming human in Jesus, we come to know God's definitive action in breaking down all the appearances of inequality that divide us humans. Jesus entered into the leveling experience of all humans by "being born" and by "being dying." Through all the in-between time, he lived his life as an example and .taught by word and para-ble that the leveling process permeated the whole of human living. While friendly with rich and poor alike, with learned and unlearned, Jesus seems to violate our sense of leveling by his iden-tifying with the poor, with servants and slaves, with the marginal-ized. He reaches out to them in his care; he tells stories about them for our instruction. Jesus asks us to be like him--one who serves. In the Last Supper washing of the feet, Jesus stresses that he has given us an example. Jesus transfigures the language and meaning of slavery, ser-vice, and ministry. All these words now describe valued human interaction from a divine perspective. We all are meant to be helpers--in Scripture, sometimes called slaves, sometimes servants, sometimes minis-ters-- to one another in life. Helpers and those being helped are on the same level. One is not superior as a human being in either being the helper or minister or being the one being helped or ministered to. Jesus gave us an unforgettable image by answering "Who is my neighbor?" with the parable of the Good Samaritan. Th~ second half of the one commandment stresses that we love our neighbor as ourselves. Our love goes out to whomever, persons always on a level no different from ourselves. We neither reach down in helping nor reach up; we only reach across. By entering into our human level, God broke through all the specious levels that seem to divide humankind. By our entering into the divine experience of Jesus, we see and act as sons and daughters of a heav-enly Father. Every Christmas, we challenge ourselves anew about the Christian leveling of human life. By our faith we live life on the same level--the level has been forever divinely clarified because of the birth of Jesus. David L. Fleming SJ November-December 2001 a wider mission MARY C. BOYS The Interreligious World: A Nun's Experience There A great value of ecumenical and interreligious exchange is that it sheds light on one's own tradition. Seeing oneself through the eyes of others expands one's reflections, provokes absorbing questions, and clarifies values and modes of thought. While my roots in the religiously variegated Pacific Northwest mean I have long been in Protestant company, and my interest in Judaism dates back to my college years, it was only upon moving to New York City seven years ago that I staked my tent on ecumenical and inte~religious terrain. Teaching at the historically Protestant Union Theological Seminary and working in Christian-Jewish dialogue beyond Union's quadrangle afford new understandings not only of the religiously "other," but of Catholicism as well. And, by providing a flesh viewpoint on religious life, my situation exercises a profound personal effect) SandraSchneiders has observed that women religious seem able to work beyond the boundaries of Christianity while remaining deeply affiliated with it; we Mary C. Boys SNJM is the Skinner and McAlpin Professor of Practical Theology at Union Theological Seminary in New York City and the author of Has God Only One Blessing? Judaism as a Source of Christian Self-Understanding. Her address is Union Theological Seminary; 3041 Broadway; New York, N.Y. 10027. Review for Religious "are at once very deeply involved in institutional Catholicism and often widely and deeply involved in the experiences of spirituality beyond its denominational boundaries.''2 Yet, in exploring the topic of religious life and interreligious dialogue, she turns her gaze more to the East, to dialogue among monastics. By exploring the implications of interaction with Jews and Judaism, I hope to highlight a distinctive interreligious conversation that Schneiders touches on only tangentially, and thereby to add another layer to, and engage in occasional argument with, her outstanding scholarly study. Probing religious life, a topic on which I have never published, in light of the Catholic-Jewish relationship, on which I have published, challenges me to hold together two vital parts of my life. This essay, then, revolving around four "scenes," is deeply per-sonal, but I hope not solipsistic, for I intend it as a stimulus for conversation. I. London, June 2000, a Catholic-Jewish conference on "The Theology of Partnership." This conference involved participants principally from the United Kingdom and the United States, along with a few European and Israeli scholars and a Vatican delegation. Although the large number of participants hindered the flow of discussion, our exchange was for the most part candid and stimulating. In the latter part of the conference, one of the Catholics, a priest, launched into a romanticized mini-sermon about Mary as virgin and mother. Its traditionalist theology and tangential relation to the point under discussion elicited considerable skepticism, if one might judge by the body language of rolled eyes and heads held in hands. Many sought recognition by the chair to respond (including all the Catholic women), but I have less recollection of the rejoinders than I do of the comment by the woman next to me. A Reform rabbi from the United Kingdom, she wrote furiously on her notepad: "Mary. Virgin. Why don't they talk about real women?" Liminal. Marginal. Such terms, used by Schneiders (among others) to describe religious life strike a chord. Insofar as this lifeform has a prophetic character rather than a hierarchical status, religious life is indeed lived on the "thresholds where realities meet, dash, and merge.''3 Nonetheless, such terms are sometimes far too academic to describe moments of feeling just how odd and anomalous we religious are. While on one level I suspect I November-December 2001 Boy~ * The lnterreli¢ous Worm To be with Jews as a member of a religious congregation is to experience our liminality, our oddness, on a regular basis. understand what my table companion was objecting to, the starkness of her opposition of "virgin" and "real women" hit hard. In reflecting later, I realize I never use terminology about virginity to describe celibacy; not only does it connote a naive innocence, but it speaks only to the dimension of abstention from genital sexual intimacy. Without question, this self-chosen abstention---or, better, an abstention that is part of our being called to a distinctive way of life--has its ascetic aspects. Nevertheless, the term virginity seems to suggest that we have repressed our sexuality, thereby ceasing to be "real" women. Whether or not the Jungian-grounded theory of the "virgin archetype" or a similar perspective can overcome the cultural stereotypes of virginity is a real question, but this dimension of Finding the Treasure offers a compelling description of the inner autonomy celibacy can offer. In the halls of Union, being a nun (in the imprecise use of the term) is sometimes seen as a "weird" way of life. Yet consecrated celibacy is not unknown in Protestantism. Students of Hinduism and Buddhism, moreover, know about celibacy in those traditions. It, is, however, completely uncharacteristic of rabbinic Judaism, which places intense emphasis on family life and home-based ritual.4 So to be with Jews as a member of a religious congregation is to experience our liminality, our oddness, on a regular basis. While this experience can be jarring, as it was at that conference June 2000, in general it has increased my sensitivity to the peculiarities of religious life, a sensitivity that can be dulled by remaining in the more homogeneous company of one's religious congregation.5 At the same time, it makes the God question more prominent. Jews typically are more reticent in speaking about God, a healthy corrective to the overfamiliarity with which many Christians ~peak about the Holy One.6 The presence, however, of persons for whom the "God quest" is the principal explanation for their liminal way of life raises questions, at least implicitly, about the divine-human relationship. Perhaps, to balance the incident with which I began this section, I should report that recently, at the conclusion of a Review for Religious weekend spent as a scholar-in-residence at a synagogue, an elderly man came up to thank me. His eyes welling with tears, he said, "You answered God's call many years ago, and now you are able to be among us." II. November 2000, a gathering of Holocaust survivors in the New York metropolitan area. While giving a series of lectures in a Catholic parish on New York's East Side the previous September, I met Lewis Weinstein, a businessman who had just published a novel on the Spanish Inquisition, The Heretic. A few weeks later he phoned to ask if I would share the podium with him at an event sponsored by the New York area Holocaust survivors. They had invited him to speak about his book, and he in turn thought it would be good if I would speak about developments in the Catholic Church's relations with Jews. His historical novel portrays a grim time. The Inquisition bears witness to the ways in which the legacy of anti-Judaism became a justification for greed and intolerance and persecution. His selections mirrored the bleakness. For example, one of the principal characters, Friar Ricardo Perez, copies texts from the New Testament and early church writers such as Chrysostom in order to justify his hatred of Jews. Lew's final excerpt was from John Chrysostom, whose vitriol toward Jews is well known: "These Jews are gathering choruses of effeminates and a great rubbish heap of harlots. Their synagogues are brothels and theaters, dens of robbers and lodgings for wild beasts. Jews know but one thing: to fill their bellies and be drunk. Their condition is no better than that of pigs and goats. Refusing to accept Christ, they have made themselves fit for s!aughter. The synagogue is a dwelling of demons, and the Jews who pray there themselves are demons. If the Jews are acting against God, must they not be serving demons? For they did sacrifice their sons and daughters to demons. Jewish mother~ ate their own children, and the hands of Jewish women boiled their own children. Their synagogues are fortresses of the devil, and the pit of all perdition. The devil is a murderer, and the Jew demons who serve him are murderers, tOO.''7 The air hung heavy in the room. Then the chair introduced me in her heavily accented English. "Mr. Weinstein wanted this Sister Mary to come. I'm not sure why. I did not have such a good experience of nuns in Poland. Anyway, here's Sister Mary Boys." " "Oy ray," I thought on the way to the podium. "How did I get myself into this one--and what now?" November-December 2001 Boys ¯ The Interreligious Worm There was enormous anger in that room, much of it directed at the Catholic Church, which I represented to them. Their anger was not simply the church's failure to live the gospel during the Shoah (Holocaust), but also their experience as children. These were men and women who had been taunted, even beaten, as "Christ-killers," who feared--with good reason--walking by a church, who were terrified to go out in the streets on "Good" Friday. I had with me the 1997 "Declaration of Repentance" by the French bishops. Its words came to life before my eyes: In the judgment of historians, it is a well-proven fact that for centuries, up until Vatican Council II, an anti-Jewish traditibn stamped its mark in differing ways on Christian doctrine and teaching, in theology, apologetics, preaching, and in the liturgy. It was on such ground that the venomous plant of hatred for the Jews was able to flourish. Hence the heavy inheritance we still bear in our century, with all its consequences which are so difficult to wipe out. Hence our still open wounds? To work as a Catholic with Jews is to witness many "open wounds," wounds from the "heavy inheritance" of our own tradition. For this reason, the Catholic-Jewish encounter is sui generis in the interreligious sphere, a point Schneiders overlooks in saying that the interreligious encounter differs "in virtually every way from the ecumenical one. It involves an encounter not between separated siblings, but between virtually total strangers.''9 We Catholics and Jews are indeed separated siblings, and that separation has been bitter, violent, and tragic. We are not strangers; we have been enemies--and to work for reconciliation is an obligation of justice. It is difficult enough for us as Catholic women to deal with church structures that mute our voices. It is even more disillusioning to study the long history of Christian contempt for Jews, the tradition of adversus Judaeos: how rivalry hardened into contempt, and contempt fostered disputation, and disputation developed into demonization, and demonization fertilized this "venomous plant of h~tred for the Jews." Like all of history's stories, the church's relationship with Jews and Judaism is a complicated tale--with significant contextual factors in every age, occasions of amity and respect and of prophets with a different vision. Nonetheless, it is largely a story of moral blindness, imperialism, and violence. While I am not personally complicit, it is Revie~v for Religious a story of which I am deeply ashamed--and one that demands I examine my complicity in other betrayals of the gospel. I am grateful for the privilege, difficult though it is, of facing those whom our history has hurt. Meeting survivors and knowing children of survivors (and, for that matter, knowing any Jews at all, for who among them has not been touched in some way by the Shoah?) means not only reading this history with deepened sensitivity, but also being emboldened to act differendy so that "the spoiled seeds of anti-Semitism should never again take root in the human heart."1° Nevertheless, confronting this history causes anguish and compounds my problems as a feminist with the institutional church. The "open wound" of which the French bishops spoke festers even as I struggle with my Catholic identity in a church that treats women as second-class citizens. I live, too, with the irony that the official church seems more committed to dialogue with Jews than with their own women. The confrontation with history, moreover, triggers another crisis, a dark night of the soul. If "the most acutely painful point of intersection between the postmodern sensibility and religious faith is the God-image,'' 11 then the Shoah is the starkest event in this intersection. It brings one face-to-face with the "abusing God," requiring us to ponder unbearable questions about the One to whom we pray22 As grateful as I am for all I have learned (and continue to learn) about prayer from my sisters, we seem reluctant to address these searing questions in our common prayer. Indeed, I cannot recall any occasion in which the Shoah and its challenges to our understanding of God have been raised to the conscious level in the communal prayer of my own congregation, the Sisters of the Holy Names of Jesus and Mary. This leads me to wonder whether any congregation, with the exception of the Sisters of Sion, confronts "God issues" that swirl around the Shoah23 The way that many Jews, especially in this post-Holocaust period, address God in a challenging manner has much to teach us. Elie Wiesel says that those who stand within the covenant have the To work as a Catholic with Jews is to witness many "open wounds," wounds from the "heavy inheritance" of our own tradition. Nbvember-December 2001 Boys * The Interreh~ious Worm right to say anything to God--even blasphemy.~4 In the concluding section of his profound meditation on God and abuse (including the Shoah, but also sexual abuse), David Blumenthal composes darifig prayers for use in Jewish liturgical services. He cautions that prayers of this type require preparation: One must have a deep commitment to God, a deep desire to want to be with God, to want to have a relationship with God. It must be important, indeed a matter of spiritual life and death, to be able to address God. One must have, too, deep and abiding faith in the covenant, in our ability to address God no matter what the circumstances and no matter how severe our prayer may be; and in God's desire to hear us and to help us address God. One must also have a sense of proportion about our relationship to God. We are creatures, not Creator. We are innocent, as victims of abuse; but we are sinners, in many other matters. We are accusers, yet we are children. This creates a tension in our images of ourselves, of God, and of the proper relationship between us; yet we must live, think, and pray within this tension.~s Facing the history of our relationship with Jews and learning Jewish ways of addressing God have provided depth and texture to my own prayer. I~I. Friday nights: a guest at the dinner table for Sbabbat. Passover: a guest at the Seder. I feel deeply privileged to join jewish friends for Shabbat or for the Seder. I have learned more than I can say from the lively conversations and observing the ways in which they su'ive to lead lives of integrity in fidelity to Torah. Without idealizing the tradition, I find much cause for "holy envy": its depth of prayer mirrored in the Siddur and in the cycle of festivals, the intellectual vitality (especially the value placed on study), the prizing of family, and home-based religious practices. My relationships leave me no doubt that Judaism fosters a holy way of life and that the ways of Torah are salvific for those committed to walking in its ways. The privilege accorded me in coming to know the power of another religious tradition finds little reflection in the recent Vatican declaration Dominus Iesus (D1).16 My experience provides a different vantage point from which to view other religious traditions. Even as DI recognizes that the dialogue between Christianity and other religions raises new questions that should be "addressed through pursuing new paths of research, advancing proposals, and Review for Religious suggesting ways of acting that call for attentive discernment" (§3), it reiterates traditional formulations of faith in arguing against pluralism. It condemns the mentality of indifferentism "characterized by a religious relativism which leads to the belief that 'one religion is as good as another'" (§22). The declaration refutes those who regard the Catholic Church as merely "one way of salvation alongside those constituted by the other religions" (§21). Rather, "Jesus Christ is the mediator and universal redeemer" (§11). Further, "one can and must say that Jesus Christ has a significance and a value for the human race and its history which are unique and singular, proper to him alone, exclusive, universal, and absolute. Jesus is, in fact, the Word of God made man for the salvation of all" (§15). According to the Congre-gation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF), one may still speak of equality in interreligious dialogue, but only in reference to the "equal personal dignity of the parties in dialogue, not to doctrinal content nor even less to the position of Jesus Christ . Thus, the certainty of the universal salvific will of God does not diminish but rather increases the duty and urgency of the proclamation of salvation and of conversion to the Lord Jesus Christ" (§22). Without entering into detailed theological analysis of Dominus Iesus, I simply want to call attention here to one of its primary deficiencies. The declaration has no sense of the relational, no feel for human interchange. Other religions are an abstraction, a category, an it. DI pays no attention to these religions as they exist in the lives of real people; it shows no sensitivity to the "thick" texture of other traditions. The writers, rather, claim objectivity: "Objectively speaking, they [other religions] are in a gravely deficient situation." Such a judgment ignores theologies of pluralism that allow one to privilege his or her own convictions while taking account of the reasonability of others' beliefs.~7 In judging dialogue from a position of omniscience, the declaration bears no indication of what we might learn from the religious other. Facing the history of our relationship with Jews and learning Jewish ways of addressing God have provided depth and texture to my own prayer. Noventber-December 2001 Boys ¯ The Into'religious Worm On the explicit level, DI says little about the church's relationship with Judaism.~ DI refers to Jews just once (§13): "The first Christians encountered the Jewish people, showing them the fulfillment of salvation that went beyond the Law," thus implicitly porraying Judaism as legalistic. DI then falls silent about Judaism. Nonetheless, its judgment~ seem to encompass Judaism, because DI notes no exceptions. It works only with three categories: Roman Catholicism, other Christian churches (distinguishing between those with apostolic succession and a valid Eucharist and "ecclesiastical communities which have not preserved the valid episcopate and the genuine and integral substance of the eucharistic mystery [and therefore] are not churches in the proper sense" §17), and non-Christian religions. In view of such a sweeping scope, readers may reasonably infer that the CDF includes Judaism within the rubric of non-Christian religions. Jews, therefore, seem also to be subject to the claim that, because "Jesus Christ is the . . . universal mediator" (§11), "one can and must say" that his significance and value for "the human race and its history., are unique and singular, proper to him alone, exclusive, universal, and absolute., for the salvation of all" (§ 15). For Catholics this means being "committed to proclaiming tq all people the truth definitively revealed by the Lord and to announcing the necessity of conversion to Jesus Christ and of adherence to the church through baptism and the other sacraments in order to participate fully in communion with God, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit" (§22). Such a view stands in tension with my own experience.~9 As one privileged to be a frequent guest in Jewish homes, to learn from Jewish scholars, to experience something of the profundity of Jewish liturgy and prayer, and, above all, to have close Jewish friends, I have an abiding respect, even awe, for the depth of Judaism. The way of Torah certainly seems to me salvific for those who walk in it. I cannot.in conscience seek the conversion of a Jew. This is not a matter of indifferentism, but rather a glimpse of the incomprehensible God whose ways transcend our under-standing. IV. Three items: Item: "Jesus' relations with women seem to have been remarkably free, given the reserve that Jewish custom in his day required."2° Item: "At the historical moment when Jesus was born Review for Religious into the world, the stares of Jewish women had never been lower . By the time of Jesus' birth, many decades of rabbinic commentary and custom had surrounded Old Testament literature. And these rabbinic traditions considerably lowered the status of women.'m Item: "Palestinian Hebrew women were among the poorest in the world in Jesus' day. This was probably because they had no inheritance rights and could be divorced for the flimsiest of reasons. Hebrew men could divorce their wives for anything from burning the dinner (Hillel) to adultery (Shammat). Yet Hebrew women were not allowed to divorce their husbands .A. Hebrew woman had minimal to no property rights A. .child was held to be Jewish only if the mother was Jewish. Most Jewish girls were betrothed by their fathers at a young age. Jewish women were held to be unclean while menstruating. If she inadvertently touched a man while having her menses, he was obliged to undergo a week-long purification ritual before worshiping at the Temple . In early Judaism women did proclaim and prophesy, but in Jesus' day they weren't permitted to proclaim Torah at synagogue because of their periodic 'uncleanness.' As a rule, only the rabbis' wives were so educated. Women were not accepted as witnesses in Jewish law, nor could they teach the law. Women had no official religious or leadership roles in first-century Judaism. Jesus' behavior toward women, even viewed through the androcentric lens of the gospel texts, is remarkable.''2z I could multiply such examples; they seem ubiquitous in feminist writing, both scholarly (less now, though more common among feminist authors from the third world and the East) and pastoral. These perspectives are communicated widely among women's communities and beyond them. My encounter with Judaism helps me look at such claims critically, especially those related to the Second Temple period and the early church. I am sympathetic to the desire to understand Jesus as one who liberated his followers--including (perhaps especially) women--from the oppressive structures of religious authorities. (Yes, many of us consider some religious authorities oppressive in our time.) Nonetheless, I have come to agree with Mary Rose D'Angelo that portraying Jesus as the one "who saves women from Judaism" bothoversimplifies and distorts the situation of Jewish women in lst-century Palestine23 It does indeed seem that, in many feminist and liberationist circles, "no plot is complete witho.uLt a-575- November-December 2001 Boys ¯ The Interreligious Worm reference to the 'Jewish patriarchal system,' although very rare are comments on the similarly patriarchal pagan cultures of antiquity.''24 Sadly, I have come to see that many who do theology under the rubric of feminism have drunk all too deeply from the wells of anti-Judaism. Despite the rich literature on the Pharisees, most notably that of Anthony Saldarini,25 in many liberal and feminist circles they function as the symbol of precisely what is wrong with religious authorities. (For example: "[The Pharisees and their colleagues the scribes] tried to keep control over people's access to God through control of the Law. Jesus denounced this pretension and returned to the people the true means of access to God: love and com-passion." 26) In many feminist writings, moreover, the laws of ritual purity, which the Pharisees are portrayed as championing, serve as the source of the clearest contrast between oppressive Judaism and the liberating Jesus. We are instructed about the "dehumanizing situation in which the women of the time were enslaved." We learn how menstruating women were "discriminated against, degraded, and dehumanized,m7 In short, some feminist writers contrast Jewish women of the Second Temple period with New Testament narratives to support their claims that, "at its inception, pristine Christianity and Jesus himself were free of any misogyny or gender bias." Thereby they implicitly buttress the argument of Christian superiority over Judaism.28 Thus I differ with Sandra Schneiders's portrayal of Jesus vis-a-vis his Jewish contemporaries. While I appreciate--and agree wholeheartedly with--her larger argument about the way in which the prophetic character of religious life places communities in tension with ecclesiastical authorities, I disagree with claims such as "Jesus was rejected by official Judaism" and the more subtle assertion that, "like Jesus, who taught both respect for ecclesiastical leaders insofar as they legitimately hold office and resistance to ecclesiastical oppression, religious must stand with and for the disempowered in the church (cf. Mt 23:2-5 [the scathing denunciation of the scribes and Pharisees]).''z9 The Pharisees, despite their depiction in the Gospels, cannot historically be regarded as representatives of "official" Judaism (there was no such official body), and we should not use them as symbols of clericalism, however useful that might be to feminist causes. They were not the equivalent of ecclesiastical leaders. We would do well to listen to Jewish feminists--such as Paula Review for Religious Fredriksen's observations about the purity laws,3° Ross Kraemer's critique of rabbinic prooftexting,3~ and Rabbi Elyse Goldstein's wrestling with the meaning of the purity rules for her own life.32 To recognize that "Jewish hopes of a new and transformed world made the movement begun by Jesus and his companions and early Christian communities forums for participation and leadership for women" necessitates refining our argument, but in no way diminishes it.33 To acknowledge the complexity of patriarchy in antiquity as well as in early Christianity entails facing the arrogance of our own limited perspectives. In sum, my encounter with Jews and Judaism has brought deepened appreciation for the distinctiveness of religious life in the Catholic tradition. It has challenged me to face the long shadow of our history and to grapple with many questions about God in light of the Shoah. It shapes my theological vantage point on Dominus Iesus as well as various feminist writings. Above all, my encounter inspires hope. For all that lies unresolved within our church in regard to relations with Jews, what has happened between Christians and Jews in our time testifies to the power of the Spirit to bring healing and new life--a testimony that emboldens my own commitment to religious life. Notes ~ This is an edited version of a paper presented at the conference on "The Nun in the Postmodern World," sponsored by the Suenens Foundation in Leuven, Belgium, 31 May--4 June 2001. My thanks to Dr. Doris Donnelly, director of the Suenens Foundation and to Mariana Murphy SNJM, to whom I dedicated it on the occasion of her 70th anniversary of religious profession. 2 Sandra M. Schneiders, Finding the Treasure: Locating Catholic Religious Life in a New Ecclesial and Cultural Context, Vol. 1 of Religious Life in a New Millennium (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 2000), p. 348. 3 Schneiders, Finding, p. 330. 4 Celibacy seems to have been characteristic only of the Therapeutae, a lst-centuryJewish ascetic group near Alexandria, Egypt. Scholars debate whether the covenanters at Qumran were celibate and, if so, whether that was a permanent or temporary state. See Lawrence Schiffman, Reclaiming the Dead Sea Scrolls (New York: Doubleday, 1994), pp. 127-143, and Joseph Fitzmyer, Responses to 101 Questions on the Dead Sea Scrolls (New York: Paulist Press, 1992), p. 66. s Schneiders speaks of religious life as "nonnatural" insofar as it involves bypassing the most fundamental natural mediations of the God- November-December 2001 Boys ¯ The Interreligious World human engagement. She distinguishes "nonnatural" from unnatural or antinatural "because nothing is mote fundamental to our humanity than the quest for God." She also notes that this path is fraught with danger, including "ascetical extremism, rigidity, misanthropy, false mysticism, gnosticism and esotericism, elitism" (Finding, pp. 131-132). 6 For an analysis of this reticence, including its problematical character, see Steven M. Cohen and Arnold M. Eisen, The Jew 14/Tthin: Self, Family, and Community in America (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2000), esp. chap. 6, "God and the Synagogue," pp. 155-180. 7 Lewis Weinstein, The Heretic (New York: goodnewfiction.com, 2000), p. 158. Later Weinstein has Perez use Chrysostom in a sermon at the cathedral (see pp. 242-244). s Quoted in Secretariat for Ecumenical and Interreligious Affairs, Catholics Remember the Holocaust (Washington, D.C.: United States Catholic Conference, 1998), p. 32. 9 Finding, p. 336. 10 This is the conclusion of the 1998 Vatican document We Remember: A Reflection on the Shoab; see Catholics Remember the Holocaust. The United States Conference of Catholi~ Bishops (USCCB) has now published a companion volume, Catholic Teaching on the Shoah: Implementing the Holy See's "We Remember" (2001). II Schneiders, Finding, p. 195. 12 I take the phrase "abusing God" from the work of David R. Blumenthal, Facing the Abusing God: A Theology of Protest (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1993). 13 On the Sisters of Sion, see my Has God Only One Blessing?Judaimt as a Source of Christian Self-Understanding (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 2000), pp. 17-22. 14 "The questions man poses to God may be the same God poses to man. Nevertheless, it is man who must live--and formulate--it. In so doing, he challenges God, which is perm. issible, indeed required. He who says no to God is not necessarily a renegade. Everything depends on the way he says it, and why. One can say anything as long as it is for man, not against him, as long as one remains inside the covenant; only if you repudiate and judge your people from the outside will you become a renegade." Elie Wiesel, One Generation AJ~er (New York: Avon, 1972), p. 216. ,s Blumenthal, Facing the Abusing God, pp. 284-285. 16 "'Dominus Iesus': On the Unicity and. Salvific Universality of Jesus Christ and the Church," Origins 30, no. 14 (14 September 2000). It is dated 6 August 2000 and was issued on 5 September 2001--ironically, the same week as Jewish scholars released Dabru Emet, an eight-point statement responding to Christian attempts to come to terms with anti- Judaism. (For Dabru Emet, see www.jcrelations.net or www.icjs.org; also Tikva Frymer-Kensky, David Novak, Peter Ochs, David Fox Sandmel, ReviewforReligious and Michael Signer, Christianity in Jewish Terms (Boulder: Westview Press, 2000). ,7 See, e.g., Michael Barnes, Christian Identity and Religious Pluralism: Religions in Conversation (Nashville: Abingdon, 1989), and S. Mark Heim, Salvations: Truth and Difference in Religion (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1995). ~8 See my "Dominus Iesus and Judaism," forthcoming in Richard Sparks, ed., Proceedings of the Fi~h-sixth Annual Convention of the Catholic Theological Society of America. 19 For an account of something of what I have learned from Jews, see my Jewish Christian Dialogue: One Woman's Experience (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1997). 20 Monique Alexandre, "Early Christian Women," in/t History of Women in the West, Vol. 1, From Ancient Goddesses to Christian Saints, ed. Pauline Schmitt Pantel (Cambridge: Belknap Press, 1992), pp. 407-444 (citation, p. 420). 21 Cited in Judith Plaskow, "Feminist Anti-Judaism and the Christian God," Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 7, no. 2 (Fall 1991): 104-107; in Helen P. Fry, Christian-Jewish Dialogue: A Reader (Exeter, U.K.: University of Exeter Press, 1996), p. 233. 22 Christine Schenk CSJ, "Celebrating the Inclusive Jesus," Celebration: An Ecumenical Worship Resource (February 2000): 80-84 (citation, 81-82). 23 Mary Rose D'Angelo, "Gender in the Origins of Christianity: Jewish Hopes and Imperial Exigencies," in Joseph Martos and Pierre Hegy, eds., Equal at the Creation: Sexism, Society, and Christian Thought (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998), pp. 25-48 (citation, p. 25). 24 Amy-Jill Levine, "Lilies of the Field and Wandering Jews: Biblical Scholarship, Women's Roles, and Social Location," in Ingrid Rosa Kitzberger, ed., Transformative Encounters: Jesus and Women Re-Viewed (Leiden: Brill, 1999): pp. 330-352 (citation, p. 332). 2s See Anthony J. Saldarini, Pharisees, Scribes, and Sadducees in Palestinian Society (Wilmington: Michael Glazier, 1988); also his "Pharisees," in David Noel Freedman et al., eds., The Anchor Bible Dictionary, Vol. 5 (New York: Doubleday, 1992), pp. 289-303. 26 Tereza Cavalcanti, "Jesus, the Penitent Woman, and the Pharisee," Journal of Hispanic/Latino Theology 2, no. 1 (1994): 28-40 (citation, 40). 27 H. Kinukawa, Women and Jesus in Mark: A Japanese Feminist Perspective (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1994), pp. 12, 27. 28 See Ross S. Kraemer, "Jewish Women and Christian Women: Some Caveats," in Kraemer and Mary Rose D'Angelo, eds., Women and Christian Origins (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), pp. 35-49 (citation, p. 36). 29 Schneiders, Finding, pp. 334 and 255, respectively. I am also uncomfortable with her section on Jesus as a prophetic model in her otherwise superb 2000 Madeleva Lecture, With Oil in Their Lamps: Faith, Feminism, and the Future (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 2000), pp. 97-108. In my November-December 2001 Boys ¯ Tbe lnterreligious Worm judgment, greater sensitivity to the heterogeneity of lst-century Judaism (arguments about Sabbath observance and the Temple [see pp. 100-101] were part of this heterogeneity), recognition that the Roman prefect controlled appointment of the high priest ("Nevertheless Jesus was executed by the Romans on the charge brought against him by the official of Judaism," p. 100), and contextualizing of phrases such as the "narrowness that had marred religion from long before his birth in the exclusivity of the Jews" would provide a more nuanced context for her claims. 30 Paula Fredriksen, Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews: A Jewish Life and the Emergence of Christianity (New York: Alfred Knopf, 1999), esp. pp. 197-207. 3, Kraemer, "Jewish Women and Chrisfan Origins, pp. 37-39. 32 Elyse Goldstein, ReVisions: Seeing Torah through a Feminist Lens (Woodstock, Vermont: Jewish Lights Publishing, 1998), esp. pp. 94-114. 33 D'Angelo, "Gender Hopes," p. 25. Mary at the Window Tawdry as any plastic trinket outshopped To some Asian source, and mass-produced In garish glass-like gold and blue To catch the sun, Mary Most Holy is reduced To a window ornament, turning to face out, Turning on filaments again for facing in On household disorder, dissension, kitchenwork, Children at play on the floor, where a thin Shaft of shining blue light circles one Dazzled child looking up: Mary catches a son. Nancy G. Westerfield R~vie~v for Religious A. PAUL DOMINIC Unsuspected Mission MeisSion, which is much more talked about than put into xecution by talkers, is at bottom a very simple human experience of sharing with others our living faith in God. As such it is accessible to all of us anywhere, if only we are interested in it. It can begin whenever we meet others and spontaneously converse with them. It seems that not enough has been said or even thought about these ordinary human encounters, without which no mission can be started or sustained, whereas perhaps too much has been said about progressive modes of mission. Genesis of a New Mission With the founding of the Society of Jesus, St. Ignatius Loyola surely initiated a whole new saga of mission in the world of his time. The saga, however, may not be or even seem new any more. In fact, since Vatican Council II, there has been quite a legitimate revision of his ideas about promoting and defending the faith. But one exercise of that old mission has still not lost its newness; it is relevant today, but without making a splash. That exercise is simply, to quote St. Ignatius's own words, "to be profitable to individuals by spiritual conversation.''~ Accordingly, unlike the monasteries in mountain solitudes from the time of St. Benedict in the 6th century or the hermitages erected in earlier times in the desert far away from the evil world, the Jesuit residences came to be situated near the centers of towns and cities, where people would gather and A. Paul Dominic sJ writes again from Satyodayam; 12-5-33 S. Lallaguda; Secunderabad 500 017; India. November-December 2001 Dominic ¯ Unsuspected Mission Different from preaching, the mission of spiritual conversation is best characterized and distinguished as pure and simple conversation. intermingle. Only then would the Jesuits be able to meet the people naturally enough, have normal dealings with them, and, as occasions arose, converse with them spiritually. That was an unassuming exercise of mission with an enduring validity, for there can be no time when personal mission, that is, reaching out to specific individuals wherever we are and keeping them company, will be out of tune with the times. The movement of new mission, which in God's providence the Society of Jesus came to be and even stand for, was itself a product of person-to-person missions that Ignatius himself exercised. Having sensed the working of God in himself, he could not keep the experience to himself, but felt an urge to share it with others. He would have certainly loved the angel Raphael's words: "It is good to conceal the secret of a king, but to acknowledge and reveal the works of God, and with fitting honor to acknowledge him" (Tb 12:7, NRSV unless otherwise indicated), Sharing with others his treasured experience of God gradually became a mode of life for him. He came to see it as a matter of course for him: to glorify God and at the same time be of help to others within his reach. Whereas his first contacts were the women whom he chanced upon at his usual haunts of the chapel or hospital, his fame)us beneficiaries were Pierre Favre (now a blessed) and Francis Xavier (now a saint) and a few others at the University in Paris, who with him came to form the Society of Jesus. It is no wonder that people who experienced the charm of his spiritual conversation tried to. be like him. It seems that the early Jesuits' fecundity in mission was in no small way owing to their exercise of spiritual conversation. Xavier, who blazed the trail of mission for the nascent Jesuit order and for the church of his day, was known for his extraordinary expertise in spiritual conversation. Not only companions of his like Peter Canisius (now a saint) witnessed to itfl but also the people of Bologna, who could say twenty years after his short stay with them: "He spoke little, but with great persuasivene.ss. He talked of divine things with great Review for Religious ¯ devotion, and his words penetrated into the hearts of his hearers and held them fast.''3 Itis a pity that those who have criticized Xavier's mission outreach with their post-Vatican II historical hindsight have failed woefully the postmodern mission by their ignorance of the practical skill in which Xavier excelled, namely, conversational mission--which, to be sure, will be out of date when humans cease speaking and being sociable. The Makeup of Conversational Mission Though the expression "conversational mission" used just now, and the equivalent expressions used earlier, are self-explanatory enough, there is nothing like getting full information straight from the horse's mouth. What did Ignatius himself say when he spoke to his little band of friends regarding their kind of preaching. We get some idea from his answer to a Dominican authority's peremptory question "Whatever do you preach?" Ignatius answered: "We do not preach but do speak familiarly of spiritual things with people, as one does after dinner, with those who invite us." In this brief and frank response--which, however, his interlocutor considered equivocal--one may discern and recognize three elements of the conversational mission: (1) conversation itself, (2) a veering to spiritual matters, and (3) a pleasant, familiar tone of voice. Notice that this Ignatian anecdote itself demonstrates spiritual conversation. A contrasting example may clarify the matter. Gregory of Nyssa had observed Christians in the marketplace of Constantinople. He reported: Constantinople is full of mechanics and slaves, who are all of them profound theologians, preaching in the shops and the streets. If you want a man to change a piece of silver, he informs you wherein the Son differs from the Father; if you ask the price of a loaf, you are told by way of reply that the Son is inferior to the Father; and, if you inquire whether the bath is ready, the answer is that the Son is made out of nothing,s This is certainly not true spiritual conversation, having only a specious similarity to it. Different from preaching, the mission of spiritual conversation is best characterized and distinguished as pure and simple conversation. It is that first and foremost, with no agenda except being present to others and getting acquainted.6 One talks with a November-December 2001 Dominic * Unsuspected Mission single individual or a small cluster, not a crowd. Such a conversation happens when we adopt towards people a welcoming attitude, perhaps forgoing for the time being our own business or preoccupation. It unfolds when we are truly ourselves, without putting on airs or having an ax to grind. It is engaging by its very nature, as we respond sensitively to the personal and situational stimuli around, now by word, now by silence, and all through by our bearing. Such a conversation does not follow any pattern except that of people letting one another's personalities freely rise to the occasion according to the twists and turns of the talk and the topics. If there is any way of programming it from beginning to end, it is by eager and attentive listening. Such conversing is like the breath of wind whose coming and going is beyond our reckoning, but which refreshes us and gives us pleasure. It is as natural and spirited as that. Engaging in it, we take others' measure and strive to bring out the best in them, thereby improving and testing ourselves (Si 9:14; 27:5). When people open the homes of their hearts in this hospitable way, Abha-God cannot be far away (1 Jn 4:12). If the art of dealing and conversing with people is, obviously enough, a natural human talent or acquirement, it is also, according to the mind of Ignatius, a grace.7 Perhaps such an understanding may be read between the lines of Paul's "Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone" (Col 4:6, NIV). Surely any conversation done ¯ in the reverent awareness of the Lord Jesus (Col 3:17; 1 P 3:15) will enable us to be at our best, natural or supernatural. Thinking along this line, perhaps, Kahlil Gibran could counsel: "When you meet your friend on the roadside or in the marketplace, let the spirit in you move your lips and direct your tongue.''8 Those who make sense of this and make spa~e for the Spirit will come to know how the~ are led, even in the face of the unfriendly, to talk without anxious forethought and yet reveal a truth that they themselves are not directly aware of (Mr 10:17-20). Besides such inspired moments, however, there are bound to be routine occasions or chance meetings when they will have to exercise their grace of conversation on a more deliberate, reflective level. At the appropriate time they will speak on spiritual affairs, as Sirach counseled long ago: "Let your conversation be with intelligent people, and let all your discussion be about the law of the Most High. Let the. righteous be your dinner companions, and let your glory be in the fear of the Lord" (Si 9:15-16). And the more Review for Religious they speak from the abundance of their heart, the better (Mt 12:34), following Paul's declaration "we believe, and so we speak" (2 Co 4:13). They will not resort to spiritual generalities, but will offer a specifically personal spiritual word of witness arising from whatever God has produced in the recesses of their heart and the externals of their life, as St. Paul does often (2 Co 1:4). In general, such conversational talk of God will be directed to what the partners in conversation require (Col 4:6). Far from anything bordering on evil, it will be "only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that [our] words may give grace to those who hear" (Ep 4:29), furthering their interior progress and stimulating their power for good in a society that hungers for more than small mercies: namely, justice, freedom, good faith, neighborliness, equality, and, not least, economic sufficiency, the proof of all the above? This conversational mission is to be carried on, for all its spiritual vision, in pleasant, discreet, and wholesome familiarity, the kind that may be witnessed (as Ignatius remarks) between the glad host and the happy guest who take time after a good meal to share what is in their hearts. Familiarity is the climate in which the conversational seeds of the spirit are best sown and harvested. Familiarity, however, is of different levels. The greater the familiarity, the better the opportunity for spiritual conversation. And so it is worthwhile to work discreedy towards deepening the familiarity. Familiarity or intimacy being the opposite of imposition, no conversational mission can be attempted if people make us aware that they would rather be left alone. Avoiding the least intrusion into their privacy, then, we must gendy gain their favor by our genuine respect for them, our interest in them as individuals with unique endowments, and our concern for any particular needs they may have. It is a matter of sincere accommodation, becoming all things to all people (I Co 9:22), all the while being sensitive to their ideals, their finer spiritual instincts. This is neighborliness towards them, without which no mission for their spiritual welfare can ever be thought of. So, even if they are not well disposed towards us, we deal with them pro-actively and seek to win them over, as God does. It is our familiarity with God that should overflow in our relation with others and make them feel at home with us. If we ever succeeded in this way of living, we would perhaps never meet anyone, however far gone in error, without effecting a change for the better. Blessed Pierre Favre was known precisely for such surprisingly wonderful encounters as November-December 2001 Dominic ¯ Unsus~ected Mission he spoke about God without boring or annoying anyone, and so was lauded by Ignatius himself as one who could draw the water of grace from hardened souls. For those who would learn from him, here is a little precious lesson that he confided in a letter to a friend: In the first place., anyone who desires to be serviceable to heretics of the present age should hold them in great affection, . . . putting out of his heart all thoughts and feelings that tend to their discredit. The next thing he must do is win their goodwill and love by friendly dealings and converse on matters about which there is no difference between us, taking care to avoid all controversial subjects that lead to bickering and mutual recriminations. The things that unite us ought to be the first ground of our approach, not the things that keep us apart?~ Scriptural Suggestiveness Speaking about his spiritual discipleship, Ignatius confided that he was taught by God as a child by his master. In sharing his spiritual knowledge with others, however, he used theological and scriptural ideas and language, as in evident in his Spiritual Exercises. The question arises, then, whether there are scriptural indications behind his idea of conversational mission? Rescued by Jesus for Abba-God, Ignatius bums with desire to follow suit: looking for ways to edify and help his neighbors, he discovers that spiritual conversation significantly serves that purpose. Advocating this practice expressly and officially in the Jesuit Constitutions, he advances this reason: "The Lord has given care of his neighbor to everyone."~2 There seems to be reference to Sirach 17:12 or 17:14b and Luke 10:25-37, and certain other passages have a bearing on his divinely favored understanding of the mission of conversation. One is: "Proclaim the message; be persistent when the time is favorable or unfavorable; convince, rebuke, and encourage, with the utmost patience in teaching" (2 Tm 4:2). Is there much in common between proclaiming and conversing? Proclaiming is the activity which is described by the Greek verb kerussein here in 2 Timothy. Elsewhere in the New Testament, the " leprous man and the demoniac who were healed by Jesus, and the friends who witnessed Jesus' healing of the deaf and dumb man, are later "proclaiming" the blessing they received. Obviously, their proclaiming cannot be anything other than simply and Review for Religious enthusiastically telling people everywhere about their good fortune (Mk 1:45; 5:20; 7:36). This would have been conversation, involving relatively few people here and there--particularly impressive ahd contagious conversation, to be sure, but conversation nonetheless. Does the same sense hold when kerussein is used to denote the proclaiming activity of Jesus?13 Does kerussein have the same connotation of conversation here too? It does, for the following reason. Jesus himself presents his characteristic way of mission in terms of eating and drinking, while contrasting himself with his predecessor (Mt 11:19). In so doing he does not simply distinguish his way as the path of enjoyment or pleasure as opposed to the other's ascetical approach; but rather reveals himself in his mission as one who welcomes and enjoys and also extends fellowship with people, not of a class, but of all classes, brushing aside all prevalent social and religious taboos. So as he honors meal invitations--whether from Pharisees like Simon, tax collectors like Levi, friends like Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, or the hosts of wedding celebrations as at Cana, he in ~rn welcomes and plays host not only to his disciples but also--something that escapes people's attention--to public sinners and to social outcasts like the poor, the crippled, and the blind. If table companionship, being a guest or a kind of host, is characteristic of his ministry, it is not, as the Pharisees judge, by way of being a glutton and a drunkard, but of doing what goes with moderate eating and drinking, that is, having a conversation. C.S. Lewis remark, "The table is from time immemorial the place for talk." 14 This was particularly the case at feasts or parties that Jesus went to, with people reclining at table and engaging in prolonged conversation, valuing it more than food and drink.Is And, if a rabbi like Jesus is the chief guest, he has an excellent opportunity to cast his pearls26 Jesus makes use of such occasions to meet and converse with people at leisure and at length about what they miss and long for in life.17 When Jesus sends his disciples on their mission, he wants them to do no more than what they have seen him doing (Mk 3:14; 6:12). He bids them stay in the houses where they are welcome, in accordance with the sacred duty of hospitality in the East; there, during mealtime and at other times, they are sure to find Is there much in common between proclaiming and conversing? November-December 2001 Dominic ¯ Unsuspected Mission opportunities for spiritual conversation. No matter how variously mission was carried on in the early church, kerussein in the sense explained above was surely part of the picture. It is interesting and revealing that, like his Master, Peter was accused of eating with those outside his Jewish fold. He was doing what he had seen Jesus doing, namely, conversing with those at table, sharing with them the word of God, and bringing them graces of the kingdom of Abba-God. And Paul too, despite the popular impression of him as addressing small and large crowds, no doubt employed the conversational mode of mission, especially towards the end during his two years of semicaptivity at Rome, as Luke's use of the word kerussein at the conclusion of Acts seems to suggest. The Practice of Unobtrusive Missioners The conversational mission, as traced above, is not something apart from life, but is very much part of it. One may find this confirmed in St. Paul's general exhortation: "Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom" (Col 3:16). Though Ignatius specialized in the art of the conversational word and trained his Jesuit companions in it, one should not consider it something only for initiates.~s There can be no doubt that ordinary Christians in all times and climes have, like Ignatius in the first flush of his conversion, taken spontaneously to the conversational mission, and with tangible results. Their names have not come down to us, but they are in the company of the little Hebrew servant girl whose brief remark led Naaman the Syrian to find the true, unseen God (2 K 5:1-19). Describing the (Protestant Christian) mission that flourished in the mid 19th century among the Telugus in Andhra, South India, Rajaiah D. Paul can say: "From the very beginning of the movement., the work of evangelization was carried on by the infant native church itself, commencing with one individual and then extending, by natural and inevitable growth, like that of a living tree . The people followed much their own impulses . The quiet conversation when visiting friends and relations, the zealous defense of the truth when Christianity was assailed by others, the simple enunciation of belief when a reason for the hope that is in them was demanded; these, accompanied by a life consistent with the demands of the new religion, were what Review for Religious produced fruit in fresh accessions to Christianity." ~9 Reflecting on such experience of mission, which is perhaps more common than many suspect, one may discern an interplay of Christian fecundity and mission. The word fecundity, incidentally, may not be in common parlance now; but, as Henri Nouwen said, "it is a word worth reclaiming, for it can put us in touch with our deepest human potential to bring forth life"2° even in the ordinary circumstances of life. He tells a story of a bereaved South American mother. After celebrating Mass in memory of her young son killed in a tragic accident, he tried to condole with her. Caught up, however, with his own sorrow for her, he was not looking at her and not listening to her invitation to come home and have a meal with the family. Sensing this, the woman went closer to him and spoke to him gently, looking into his eyes: "Don't be so depressed, Father. Don't you know that God loves our Antonio, that God gave him to us for a few years and now wants to bring him to heaven? We are grateful that he was with us and we are grateful too that he can now be with God forever. We are grateful to you also. God loves us all and cares for us all.''21 One of the most dramatic and recent exponents of spiritual conversation is the North American woman named Peace Pilgrim. The Wise Choice of Celebrated Missioners Besides these anonymous but locally fecund missioners, there are celebrities in the international scene, like Frank Buchman (1879-1961), who made the most of spiritual conversation. For instance, along with swaying groups and governments by his moral authority as founder of the then quite active movement called Moral Re-Armament, Buchman also converted and gave life to all sorts of religious or secular-minded people by his individual conversations and dealings with them, and he inspired them to do likewise. A story is told of his stay at a hotel in Milan a few months before he died: "There were three barmen at the hotel. Frank Buchman did not buy drink from them. He went into their bar and gave them the bread of life. They and their families all found November-December 2001 Dominic ¯ Unsuspected Mission something new from their friendship with him. One of then said of him, 'Dr. Buchman is different from most of the people I see. We have cleaned things up here since he came. Most of the leaders of Italy come to this bar sooner or later. The Foreign Minister was here the other day. He was so interested in what we told him about Buchman that he almost forgot his drink.'''22 One of the most dramatic and recent exponents of spiritual conversation is the North American woman named Peace Pilgrim (1908-1981). Not a Christian, she described herself as a religions woman with a vision of peace for the world. Keeping to her self-chosen double-barreled name, she committed herself to walking prayerfully as a pilgrim among people, eager to meet them and talk to them about the chances for peace. For this purpose she sported a short tunic with "Peace Pilgrim" in front and "25,000 Miles on Foot for Peace" on the back; she succeeded in drawing people into engaging conversations on the possibilities of peace in the modern world. To her pleasant surprise, she found the general response positive, with either a lively curiosity or a genuine interest in peace efforts. Her humble mission, basically human and Christian, touched people's hearts and even became a media phenomenon. This is how she recalls its beginning: "The birthplace of the pilgrimage was at the Tournament of Roses parade in Pasadena, California. I walked ahead along the line of the march, talking to people and handing out peace messages, and noticing that the holiday spirit did not lessen the genuine interest in peace. When I had gone about halfway, a policeman put his hand on my shoulder and I thought he was going to tell me to get off the line of the march. Instead he said, 'What we need is thousands like you.'''23 Her personal encounters soon became media events spreading her message of peace. What began fruitfully on 1 January 1953 continued with greater and greater effectiveness till her death in 1981 during her seventh talking pilgrimage. The Like Choice in India Ignatius, too, began his mission as an obscure pilgrim on the move. Thinking, as an Indian, of the pilgrim Ignatius and others before and after him in the Christian world, I cannot but admire the sureness of their spiritual instinct, which many Indians have as well. India, too, is an ancient land of pilgrims going on regular Review for Religious pilgrimages, besides, of course, the lifelong pilgrims who keep moving across the length and breadth of the country or stay put in a monastery (math) or in a forest area. It is pleasant to recall that, as Peace Pilgrim was exercising her newfound permanent mission in the American world, two (Catholic) Christians--Joseph Thambi in Andhra Pradesh and Peter Reddy (a convert from Hinduism through Lutheranism) ir~ Tamil Nadu--were living in India a life much like that of the sannyasis, going about and sharing their spiritual pleasure and treasure with others who came their way. Even before them Sadhu Sunder Singh of Punjab, a Sikh-turned-(Anglican) Christian, had blazed a sannyasi kind of mission trail as early as 1908.24 Part of "Vie Voyag~re" However unusual and surprising their vocation may have been, the personalities mentioned above knew how to exercise their mission in ways not only unusual but most ordinary. They used the ordinary human capacity of conversation to excite and evoke spiritual awareness in people. Such spiritual talk, being part of normal sofiial intercourse, can and ought to thrive among Christians anywhere; all they need is a good measure of the Christian spirit of people on pilgrimage (Heb 3:12-4:11; 11:8-16). This was the sure but unforeseen way by which even the risen Jesus, making his return pilgrimage to his Abba-Father, reached out to his lost or fallen disciples and sent them on their new mission. Who has not enjoyed the narratives of his accosting them, drawing them to speak to him from their heart, and then with inspiriting w~rds arousing their drooping spirits for mission? It is up to us, partners in a holy heavenly calling, to keep our eyes on Jesus and, thus encouraged, to encourage one another day after day on our mission journey, a journey at once inward and heavenward (Heb 3:1, 13). Such was characteristically the vie voyagkre or missionary life of Mary, too, whom Marguerite Bourgeoys (1620-1700), the foundress of the Congregation de Notre-Dame de Montreal, contemplated as the model of conversation with others. After composing my own article, I learned this from Mary Anne Foley's recent article.25 Because of the reported affinity of her spirituality with the lgnatian variety, I suspect that the Sisters of Notre-Dame may well have more to say about Marguerite's conversational mission, adding to what I, have said about Ignatius's. November-December 2001 Dominic ¯ Unsuspected Mission Notes t St. Ignatius of Loyola, The Constitutions of the Society of Jesns, trans. George E. Ganss SJ (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1970), p. 283, no. [648]. 2 See Thomas H. Clancy SJ, The Conversational Word of God (Anand, India: Gujarat Sahitya Prakash, 1978), pp. 59, 63. 3 So Schurhammer, Francis Xavier, Vol. 1, as in Clancy, The Conversational Word of God, p. 11. ~ See Clancy, Conversational Word, p. 9. 5 William Barclay, The Letters to Timothy, Titus, and Philemon (Bangalore: Theological Publications in India, 1990), p. 127. 6 In an exhortation Jer6nimo Nadal shares what he has learned about this from Ignatius. See Clancy, Conversational Word,~pp. 53-54. 7 St. Ignatius, Constitutions, pp. 277, 332-333, nos. [624d] and [814]. s Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet (New Delhi: Allied Publishers, 1976), p. 72. 9 See St. Ignatius, Constitutions, pp. 113,283, nos. [115] and [650]. l0 See Clancy, Conversational Word, pp. 53, 65. I I See Clancy, Conversational Word, pp. 20-21. 12 St. Ignatius, Constitutions, p. 113, no. [115]. ~3 See Lucien Legrand, Mission in the Bible (Pune, India: Ishvani Publication, 1992), p. 60. ~4 C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves (Glasgow: Collins Fount Paperbacks, 1977), p. 91. t5 See Albert Nolan, Jesus before Christianity (London: Darton, LongTnan, and Todd, 1977), p. 38. t6 See William Barclay, The Gospel of Luke (Bangalore, India: Theological Publications in India, 1975), p. 94. ~7 The objection that Jesus' table talk does not qualify to be kerussein since it lacks the usual fanfare of publicity of the kerux or royal herald can be met by remarking that Jesus, being the herald of the compassionate God, does not carry himself like the heralds of proud earthly rulers. 's See William Barclay, The Letters to Pbilippians. Colossians, and Thessalonians (Bangalore: Theological Publications in India, 1975), p. 126. ~9 Cecil Hargreaves, Asian Christian Thinking (Delhi: ISPCK, 1979), p. 97. 20 Henri J.M. Nouwen, In the House of the Lord (London: Darton, Longrnan, and Todd, 1986), p. 33. 2~ Nouwen, House, p. 49. 22 Peter Howard, Frank Buchman's Secret (Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 1962), p. 2. Review for Religious 23 Peace Pilgrim, compiled by some of her friends (Santa Fe, New Mexico: Ocean Tree Books, 1994), p. 27. 24 See P.A. Augustine, "On a Pilgrimage to Rampur," Vidyajyoti Journal, March 2001, pp. 205-213. ~s See Mary Anne Foley CND, "Spirituality for Mission: Marguerite Bourgeoys and the Ignatian Tradition," Review for Religious 60, no. 1 (lanuary-February 2001): 53-57. Straggler Because he was youngest, his gift ranked least among the others, last of the lambing. But somewhere between the start of his journey and its final stretch he'd lost the creature, himself lost as well. Then he followed the star, as told, so stumbled upon the stable by accident, or design, call it what you will. Afraid, empty-handed, embarrassed, yet drawn to the manger, he knelt, close as a whisper. "I lost my gift." The Babe's mother, softly, "No, child, yours is best of all." Leonard Cochran OP November-December 2001 MARIE BEHA On the Seventh Day God Rested spiritual directions Maybe God rested (Gn 2:3), but we cannot. God could afford to rest; after all, creation was finished and "it was very good," but we rarely experience the luxury of seeing our work completed or of feeling satisfied with it. So we find Sabbath observance hard, whether it is the day of rest at the end of our work week or those mini- Sabbaths that occur naturally in our lives. Our tendency to fill all these times makes them anything but restful, even though it seems that resting should be at the heart of Sabbath observance, our own as well as God's. Sabbath Fillers Mmost any "thing" will do to fill up Sabbath time and minimize rest: work left over from the previous week, or getting ahead on the week to come. Fun and games can keep us busy. "Good works," everything from returning phone calls (or catching up with email, as though that were possible) to a frantic round of visiting sick relatives or neighbors, fill in the hours. Even an overload of required worship can make Sabbath more a burden than a rest. Marie Beha OSC writes from the Monastery of St. Clare; 1916 North Pleasantburg Drive; Greenville, South Carolina 29609. Revie'w for Religious So, you ask, what is a person to do? The problem with all of the above is not with the what but with the why and bow of our doing. The need for accomplishment that motivates us is revealed in the satisfied but weary sigh that accompanies our Sunday evening summation: "I really got a lot done this weekend" or the equally tired but dissatisfied confession "My to-do list is as long as ever." Why are we so driven to do? Too often we fill our days, including our Sundays, to fill ourselves. No wonder there are never enough hours in the week. "Resting" risks having to face the reveal-ing silence, the emptiness inside. So we hurry on, stuffing every day, including the Sabbath, with self-satisfying work. Even our worship can be performance oriented. What does "We had such a good liturgy this morning!" really mean? Are our criteria the spirited music, the well-delivered homily, and the smooth flow of the service--or being moved to heartfelt prayer and challenged to genuine interior conversion? Hopefully, the music and the homily prepare the way for "worship in spirit and truth" On 4:24), but they may simply leave us entertained and content. Worship can become crowded as though more equals better. When that is the case, we can hardly expect to "rest secure" (Ps 16:9). Nor can we if haste to have it finished clocks our obser-vance. Shortening periods of silence in order to get through our quota of prayers is anything but worshipful. The pace of our performance, in liturgy or elsewhere, may also keep us "worried and distracted by many things" (Lk 10:41). We are still meeting deadlines, even when being together is itself the goal. Family time has to be scheduled with the precision of airport takeoffs and land-ings, surface activity substituting for person.al relationships. Though we are together, we do not allow ourselves opportunity to really enjoy each other, much less become intimate. Scheduling every moment, hurrying through one activity to begin the next before the first is really completed, all adds up to workday pressure. Though we are weary, it seems we cannot stop or slow down. Our attempts at relaxation only add more stress. Even our sleeping late is restless. So we come to the end of our Sabbath lacking any sense of re-creation. The motivation for such crowding and overscheduling of even leisure time has a lot to do with our self-image, Which stems from our deeply felt need to see ourselves as creative achievers. God has no such need and so can rest, and asks us to begin to do the same. November-December 2001 Beha ¯ On the Seventh Day God Rested Becoming a Sabbath People But you say, "I know all this, know it too well. What I don't understand is howto keep the Sabbath holy" (Dr 5:12). Rather than insisting on utterly severe limitations of activity on the Sabbath, as some Pharisees in the Gospels seem to have done, our recent Catechism (§2185) says nothing about "servile work"; it simply says we should "refrain from . . . work or activities that hinder the worship owed to God, the joy proper to the Lord's Day, the performance of the works of mercy, and the appropriate relax-ation of mind and body." Especially for the many of us who do almost no manual (or "servile") work on weekdays, spading in the garden may be a wonderful thing to do on Sundays. Churchgoing is not supposed to be the only activity that makes the seventh day special, though some neglect even this. For those who do partic-ipate in Sunday worship, however, it may become just one more item packed into a hectic weekend schedule. After it, we may feel permitted to spend the remainder of the day on ourselves--and then squander it on hecticness that neither praises God nor refreshes us. And that is precisely the problem with much of our Sabbath observance. This is God's day. Like God, we are to work most days at cre-ating this world, making a garden of it, if you will. But also, like God, we are to rest from our labor one day and so gain something of the divine perspective. Work is meant to predominate since this is the way our world takes form and shape--and we ourselves are likewise formed by that very shaping. Through work we become what we are meant to be: responsible cocreators of this beautiful world of ours. Made from this earth, we are called to care for it, to be nourished by it, and in the end to return to it. But there is more to our human vocation than this. Though made from the earth, of the earth, we are ultimately from and for God. Sabbath observance rhythmically registers this reality of human existence in our lives. Between this week's labor and the next, we stop and look up. Like God, we rest. Although our Sabbath observance is brief and limited, it is there to prevent our being worn down by the activity needed to work out our salvation. Sabbath prepares us for an eternal rest when our work will be complete and our being-with-God just begun. The original commandment, "Keep holy the Sabbath," is the third commandment, after those forbidding worship of false gods and taking God's name in vain, All three put us in the context of Review for Religious God's original covenant with his chosen people. Observing these commandments is our covenantal response. More than moral law, the Sabbath describes a relationship. Since we are God's people, we need to be holy as God is holy, working and resting as God does. Observing the Sabbath forms us into the divine image, helping us realize our identity as individuals and as a people. Why did God rest on the seventh day? To enjoy the goodness of that wondrous creation. We do the same. Enjoyment, part of our human capacity for contemplation, moves us beyond the every-day criteria of use and usefulness. All too often, when we experience something new, our question "What's this?" is followed at once by "What's it good for?" Sabbath offers us a respite from such a utilitarian viewpoint; it gives us an opportunity to affirm reality as good in itself. We receive it as a divine gift, even before we discover whether if fits into our schema of things. We appreciate its beauty, even if it is not to our taste. We accept its truth without need to compre-hend, much less control, its mystery. Besides deepening our capacity for appreciation, Sabbath leisure forms us into a free people. Originally a way for the Jewish people to celebrate their liberation from Egypt's oppres-sion, it can open us to similar possibilities. We are not meant to be slave laborers, nor to enslave others to relentless productivity. Stepping back from what we do six days a week enables us to see where we are oppressed, where we may be oppressors. In the leisure that this seventh day provides, we are free to ask ourselves what we would like to do if we had the time. What would re-create us? No matter if our answers would require more demanding activity than our everyday work; perhaps that is what we would find renewing. After being tied all week to a desk, we may really enjoy discovering and using our bodies at least one day a week. Professionals may relax in an activity that allows them the leisure to be rank amateurs, while people whose everyday is dull or dreary discover their potential as "professional" chefs or musicians. Seeing each other in more creative ways keeps us open to the surprises that lie untapped in the hearts of us all. Someone who lacks both time and talent for learning to play music well can still More than moral law, the Sabbath describes a relationship. November-December 2001 Beha ¯ On the Seventh Day God Re, ted enjoy the creativity of a less-than-professional performance. Attempting portrait painting may not produce a recognizable like-ness, much less something that can be sold, yet it can fill someone's need for self-expression. Sabbath Free Time The Sabbath also provides us with "free time," allowing us to "waste" some of it. For productive Americans the mere phrase "wasting time" sounds vaguely immoral, even though time is a giJ~. We cannot earn even a single additional day of life, nor are we billed for the ones we have received. Sabbath observance opens us to the possibility of"doing nothing." Even a brief period given over to deliberate inactivity can, if nothing else, show us how enslaved we have become to filling time. When not doing some-thing useful, we feel threatened by nonexistence: what are we good for? Doing nothing translates readily into being nothing; that is why it is painful, at least at first. But, with patient practice and a willingness to go below surface unease, we can discover a deepening quiet underneath all our activity. As with a swiftly moving river, there is a silence inside that is full of life and awaits the exploration of our doing nothing. Enjoying what is, being free to do something nonproductive that in fact re-creates us, can be forms of Sabbath worship for us creatures as we learn who we are and why we were made. Personal relationships require a certain spaciousness, and this is true of our friendship with God. On the Sabbath we and God spend time together. Sometimes we talk or argue, sometimes we are simply together in comfortable or uncomfortable silence, but we are together. That is what matters. That is the heart of any obser-vance of the Sabbath. And those observances are multiple. Seventh-day observance is paradigmatic but not exhaustive. We can expand one day to a week of R and R: rest, recuperation, or retreat. Or, and this is more common, we can compress Sabbath-like observances to take advantage of moments of free time that open up in any day or that we build into it. The former include snippets of time we often vainly fret away: when the elevator takes forever to arrive, when the answering machine advises us to "hold" until the "next available operator" responds, or when the receptionist explains that "the doctor is running l~te today." Also, we can choose to sit quietly Review for Religious on the side of our bed when we first awaken, we can stretch quietly during a long morning at the computer, we can take a breath of morning air as we walk to the car. All of these can be pieces of Sabbath rest. They can break into our everydayness, much as seventh days interrupt the steady pace of work weeks. They can refresh us. Or they can be uneasy gaps we hasten to fill with nervous activity. How else explain doodling on telephone pads, tapping our feet, consulting our watch at fifteen-second intervals, or rushing our moments of transition. Using Sabbath Leisure Well Taking advantage of all the Sabbath times in our lives requires creative discipline. One suggestion: that we follow the traffic direc-tive "Be prepared to stop." Be ready to allow the seventh day--and the small intervals that force themselves into our best-planned days-- to evoke in us a willingness to surrender to something, to Someone, beyond our own self-interest. Willingness to set our own interests aside opens us to the more of mystery. The capacity for such transcendence demands life-long discipline, a way of living that includes. Sabbath observance. Preparation for Sunday's resting in the Lord begins when Saturday makes some change in our everyday routine. Though the day itself may well be packed full, it can hold its own refreshment, the peace and joy of taking care of things we had to put off earlier in the week. The danger is that "things to do" can take on a life of their own and invade our Sabbath time. Setting some time limits and then prioritizing what most needs to be done is one way of extending Sabbath observance to the vigil. Another is to include in this day of preparation something we like to do, something we look forward to doing: perhaps a special supper menu, a phone visit with a friend, a more leisurely bath, some quiet time before going to bed. The endless possibilities need only be tailored to our own preference. Fruitful observance of the Sabbath itself, like the great com-mandments of loving God, neighbor, and self, revolves around worship, reaching out to others, and re-creative leisure. As we Wil,tingness to set our own interests aside opens us to the more of mystery. November-December 2001 Beba * On the Seventh Da~ God Rested know only too well, these will not happen unless we are prepared to make them happen. Time for worship is probably the easiest of these to schedule, but we still need careful planning lest we end up in such a rush that we spend most of the service becoming quiet enough to worship. Of course, if some truly unforeseen great need comes into our life, we worship by responding to that need. But on most weekends we can prepare for worship at least as carefully as we would for any other important appointment. If a scheduled meeting with an employer requires some attention to appearance and promptness and some thought preparation, worship of our God surely merits the same. Once the time for communal worship has been determined, the rest of the day can revolve around it. How begin our Sabbath day in such a way as to open our heart more fully to God? A slower start, a long shower, a more leisurely breakfast, not only make this day special but also quiet our restlessness, enabling us to be more present in worship. Getting outside for some early morning exercise can do the same, while some silent reflection may help others to change pace and be ready for prayer. Getting to church in ample time seems a necessity if weekday patterns are to be converted into Sabbath stillness. Letting the drivenness, competition, and workday worry fall away prepares our heads as well as our hearts to "hear the word of the Lord" (Is 1:10). Even an unsuccessful effort to attain inner peace and quiet is a form of worship. We are trying to give God's time back to God. Coming into God's presence along with others reminds us that all our worship is communal. We join with others, not only those with whom we immediately share sacred space this week, but all the people of God gathered for worship, observing their Sabbaths on Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Sons and daughters of God, we are all children of Abraham as well, our core unity greater than our all too apparent diversity. Gathering in a common worship space lets us take these theological realities and translate them into practical charity. What begins with the community of worship can flow out to a much wider world or can be focused on care of a family member or a needy neighbor next door. Because we do this together, our charity becomes expansive and yet not abstract. We are reminded of needs that we ourselves may never have experienced or been exposed to, and we are challenged not to forget the small service Review for Religious that has no glamour and wins no notice. In both cases we are stretched beyond ourselves, an attitude basic to any true worship. A third element in our Sabbath observance is leisure, some rest, an opportunity to be made new in re-creation. Unless given some thought, all our Sabbath time can disappear in the more evi-dent good works of prayer and care for others. But a leisure that renews us is basic to true love of God and of others. Something we really enjoy needs to be included in our Sabbath observance if we are to be faithful to a Creator God who first saw that everything was good and then rested in that joy. So Sabbath observance includes time to just be, to play in the world, to enjoy the good-ness that God has made. Our rest is worshipful because it is filled with the truth that this is God's world wrapped in God's care. Sabbath beyond the Sabbath Other Sabbaths beyond seventh-day observance are three-day weekends, full weeks of retreat, and full sabbaticals every seventh year. Smaller Sabbaths can occur at intervals on ordinary days. All of these can contribute to forming us into people of the Sabbath, people who are free and not slaves to what we do. We are wor-shipers in what we do for God, for others, and even for ourselves. Our day can begin with a personal offering of our day to God along with our getting out of bed. It can end with a night prayer that is part of our stretching out in bed and getting comfortable for sleep. What is important is a habit of praying that, over time, becomes worshipful living. Willingness to expose ourselves to worldwide concerns is part of our everyday Sabbath observance. Ordinary caring for others on ordinary days opens our hearts, making more room for God in our life as we do on our Sundays. Sabbath observance is not a narrowing of our lives. It is a grand and glorious expansion that is an image of eternity. -50! November-December 2001 DONALD MACDONALD Where Your Heart Is Adrug pusher in prison said that he well understood the evil effects of drugs, but if he left prison tomorrow the temptation to go back to drugs would be irresistible. He knew of no other way where so much money could be made so easily. He had neith'er the skills nor the connections to obtain a similar lifestyle any other way. A young merchant seaman on shore leave in his home port said that, each rime he d6cked and met his friends, he noticed that their lifestyles had progressed to levels.he could never hope to reach, no matter how hard he worked. They too dealt in drugs. For these and others, the attraction of a lifestyle for self and family funded by illicit drugs almost overwhelmed the power of reason, community feeling, or the gospel to offer something better. Famine of God's Word Many people growing up in our postmodern climate assume that there is no such thing as objective truth; that, even if there is, it is beyond our reach. There was a time when people assumed that reason ruled, or at least could provide us with a guide to life for the benefit of all. Two world wars later, the cruelty of various civil wars and the unavoidable evidence of global human suffering have shown that confidence in reason alone is misplaced. Even the rocketing progress of technology, with its potential for Donald Macdonald SMM writes again from Montfort House; Darnley Road; Barrhead, Glasgow; G78 1TA Scotland, U.K. Review for Religious good, has a number of self-destruct buttons, one or other of which someone is sure to press. The many forms of the media offer access to much that is good, but may also expose us to what is bad or sadly deficient. Western Christians, for example, are aware that a good many writers and producers of television seem to hold that any reverent mention of God is nonsense, and that it is open season for attack-ing the Catholic Church. There are many occasions for people, especially young people, to be misled or bewildered. If this assess-ment is accurate, that does not mean that people cannot avoid being hypnotized or depressed by it all. There is a blunt alterna-tive in the invitation to accept the challenge to "repent and to believe in the gospel" (Mk 1:15). It is crucial that those blessed with the gift of faith understand this as a viable alternative or, better, that, with the confidence of the early church, they give themselves to it as "The Way." ¯ Otherwise, time and energy will be wasted in a possibly dispirited response to what are judged to be the ills of society. To react forever and not initiate risks clouding Ourselves in perpetual negativity. The seemingly omnipotent secular battalions set the agenda, and Christians hurry to set some defenses up, almost breathless in a sadly polluted atmosphere. "Repent".has a 19th-century ring to it and, on that assump-tion, may be dismissed by those who thoroughly accept contem-porary culture. It is, in fact, a call to change our minds, to turn from being self-centered, to open ourselves to the will and guidance of God. It is a dynamic challenge, not a static ruefulness, and it offers a new perspective on life. It may so take hold of us that we become "a living sacrifice," giving ourselves completely to God in response to the wonder of God giving himself to us in Christ (see Rm 12:1-2). Whether it be "us" or "them," Christian tradition recognizes the seed of sin in everyone. It is not the whole picture, but it has its effect on human behavior. Cardinal Newman found "the being of God [to be] as certain to me as the certainty of my own existence." Regarding the society of his day, he said, "There I see a sight which fills me with unspeakable distress., the defeat of good, the success of evil, physical pain, mental anguish, the preva-lence and intensity of sin, the pervading idolatries, the corrup-tions, the dreary hopeless irreligion . [All of this] inflicts upon the mind the sense of a profound mystery, which is absolutely November-December 2001 Macdonald ¯ Where Your Heart Is beyond human solution . Either there is no Creator, or this living society., is in a true sense discarded from his presence." 1 Each category he mentions can be documented today--and perhaps the personal distress, too. Newman famously concluded that, "if there be a God, since there is a God, the human race is implicated in some terrible aboriginal calamity. It is out of joint with the purposes of its Creator.''2 The call to "repent and to believe" is the way out of this morass. "Bad religion" will not do it, and numbers of people have been hurt by it. But before so much hurt and "the dreary hopeless irreligion," with its miasmic presence stunting so much growth, the authentic way of Jesus Christ can guide us. This is the path religious walk on the jour-ney to God. The challenge is as insistent today as it was for the 1st or the 19th century; our century, like earlier ones, needs to hear the Good News. Pope John Paul said recently: "Even in countries evan-gelized many centuries ago, the reality of a 'Christian society' which . . . measured itself explicitly on gospel values is now gone. Today we must courageously face a situation which is becoming increasingly diversified and demanding" (§40).3 The church und.erstandably tries to come to terms with chang-ing structures in the contemporary world. Religious are often sad-dled with plant and too few personnel. Time and energy go into dismantling the structures, with pain to people and religious who have grown up seeing them as part of themselves. For many, this appears a sunset with nothing but darkness ahead to bury a once lively hope. But what if it indicates sunrise and the possibility of a graced opportunity to walk in newness of life, alive to God in Christ Jesus? Approach the Word To be open to thatl "we must rekindle in ourselves the impetus of the beginnings and allow ourselves to be filled with the ardor of the apostolic preaching" (§40). The zeal forming the church in the beginning came from the experienced presence of the Spirit of our risen Loi-d. To view the contemporary from within that perspective is to find ourselves with Someone who faced all that life could do to him, including crucifixion in his mother's presence, and who is alive with us today. Faced by contemporary relativism in a consequently fragmented society, Christians and Review for Religious especially religious would have so much more to offer, and so much more for themselves to believe in, if they realized that "holiness, a message that convinces without need for words, is the living reflection of the face of Christ" (§7). Familiarity with the authen-tic Jesus allows us to reflect him almost intuitively, as our faith is rekindled by who we see in the Gospel. It may then be impossible not to want to share what we have seen and heard. A glance at the Lukan Jerusalem journey (Lk 9:51-19:28) may help us glimpse something of the world of the early church, where the odds against Christians con-tin- uing to exist and influence society were immeasurably greater than anything we face. St. Luke's account begins with a thrice-repeated warning to consider where accompa-nying Jesus may lead, since "[Jesus] set his face to go to Jerusalem" and Samaritan villagers refused him hospitality "because his face was set toward Jerusalem" (9:51, 53). This is serious, not a day trip to the beach. The ostensibly encouraging "I will follow you wherever you go" (9:57) was not met with open arms by Jesus, but by a sharp warning to the individual to examine every syllable and consider what he meant. Does he really intend to volunteer for the same insecurity as his Leader, "the Son of Man [with] nowhere to lay his head" (9:58)? To come with Jesus may mean finding himself left like a leaf in a gutter--does he really want that? Another was bluntly told that commitment to Jesus comes before all family obligations: "Let the dead bury their own dead. ¯ . . You go and proclaim the kingdom of God" (9:60). Another would-be follower said he Would come, "but let me first say farewell to those at my home" (9:61). Jesus would leave by the time he came back, he was told; come now or not at all. The call is for mature persons who, once they have put hand to the 'plow, never look back. The humane pastoral concern of the Lukan Gospel is evident here in view of what happened at journey's end. No doubt this pattern was repeated time and again in the early years of the church. St. Luke's experience led him to believe that, while attrac-tion to Jesus is wonderful, it must include a realistic appraisal of what this means. We need to face ourselves as we face Christ; we Fami!iarity with the authentic Jesus allows us to reflect him almost intuitively. November-December 2001 Macdonald ¯ Where Your Heart Is must engage in true discernment. If Jesus himself "set his face," steeling himself to stay at one with his Father's will, would-be fol- ¯ lowers can do no less on the journey, unless they come as specta-tors and not companions. Fidelity to God's will as the guide to life is a daily and life-long challenge: "I must go on my way today and tomorrow and the day following, for it cannot be that a prophet should perish outside Jerusalem" (13:33). Jesus had to face his greatest challenge, one that would cost him his life. He did so after thoughtful reflec-tion, not as a witless victim. In the light of experience, he honestly asks no less of us. Later on the journey, at a time when "large crowds were traveling with him" (14:25), the message is reinforced as Jesus asks them why they are there: "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father arid mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple" (14:25-26). Even while noting that Hebrew has no word for prefer, we get the point. Every natural and rational tie must take second place to the gift of myself to Christ. This is not meant to put people off. It asks us to consider seriously what we undertake if we accompany Jesus. We will always have Jesus, but perhaps at the cost of losing much else and, as it may appear, Jesus as we would want him to be. How much are we prepared to pay for that? We are asked to really consider this as we look to give ourselves to the gospel challenge. Our attraction to Jesus has to be constant and compelling if we are to genuinely repent and believe in him. Realistic Lukan pastoral care has Jesus ask yet again for mature thought about what it means to accompany him through life: "Which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise . . . not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him" (14:28-29). A second parable suggests pondering the consequences of going to war with ten thousand against an oppo-nent who has twenty thousand (14:3 i). This reflects the almost unbearable concern of Jesus and the evangelist, who have journeyed together and know the implica-tions of accepting the invitation to come with them. The verses . immediately before and after these challenging parables tell us why: "whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple . . . so, therefore, none of you can be my Review for Religious disciple if you do not give up all your possessions" (14:27, 33). The rest is surely silence, with mature prayer, reflection, and advice to help us see where we go from here.4 The Power of the Word Bearing one's cross is both a superb challenge and practical advice in view of the implications of accompanying Jesus. Even at first reading, we pick up the implied heroism, the need for great courage and strength. Yet, on gospel evidence, Jesus' closest disciples display a humanity that we can recognize in ourselves. There is, then, something attainable here. We should not put the challenge on the shelf as an impossible ideal. There is never a suggestion that it is a mistake to accompany Jesus. There must be something superlatively attractive in the per-son of Jesus that enables his disciples to hear such a challenge and actually take it up. The desire to understand how that enablement works is reason for opening our-selves to God's Word in Scripture. This is what was done at the beginning of monastic and reli-gious life. The desert fathers and mothers wanted to know from experience what it meant to leave all for Jesus, to accept the Sermon on the Mount's challenge to live without cares in the freedom promised by the gospel. Scripture helped them make the attempt and persevere. They and their contemporaries saw how Scripture's power could form them into people who have nothing as the world would understand it, yet were themselves rich in the currency of the gospel and able to make others similarly rich. They were truly influential people. The gospel, finding lodging in individual hearts, made for intimacy with God and love for others. As subsequent centuries learned, time given to Scripture, and to the Spirit of our risen Lord found therein, can make abounding love for others available to us too. Disciplined daily reading--allowing the words to register with us, and gently persuading us that we are hearing them for the first time--can transfigure us too. We need such transfiguring to approach a Lukan conclusion: "So, therefore, whoever of you does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple" (14:33). Jesus" closest disciples display a humanity that we can recognize in ourselves. November-December 2001 Macdonald ¯ [~here Your Heart Is Nearer our time, that challenge was taken up by Charles de Foucauld, and his life is yet another proof of the transforming power of the word. He took the challenge of the Jerusalem jour-ney to heart. A religious, photocopying his "self-offering," offered me copies to send to friends. The gothic lettering was beautiful, but as I read it I wondered whether I had the courage to keep a copy beside me, much less send one to others. It reads in part: "Father, I abandon myself into your hands. Do with me what-you will. Whatever you may do, I thank you. I am ready for all. I accept all. Let only your will be done in me and in all your creatures. I wish no more than this, O Lord. to surrender myself into your hands without reserve, and with confidence beyond all question-ing, because you are my Father." Here are the terms of acceptance for accompanying Jesus on the journey through life. To invoke the prayer and patronage of such a man in Christ and, if I dare, to keep his self-dedication where I can see it--these things can help me join others on the Jerusalem journey. They can lead me to the sources that fed him. They are necessary in a world where so much competes for my self. Jesus on the Jerusalem journey points out that the heart may not be left empty. Even when all that is evil is forced from the heart, evil may return with immense power and bring "seven other spirits more evil than itself.and the last state of that person is worse thanthe first" (11:26). The evangelists, ~e fathers, Charles de Foucauld, and others can only encourage us to open our hearts to the power that made them mirrors of the gospel. With this shared enthusiasm for God in Christ continually fed by what we see in them, we in turn become faithful members of the company of Jesus. This is not for everyone, but it may be for us. Among the obstacles to accompanying Jesus as sketched in the Jerusalem journey is the risk of having a divided heart. Pressure to back away, to be close but not too close to Jesus, is always .there in one form or another. While it helps to steep ourselves in the gospel and invite the influence of those who clearly live for God alone in Christ, we must also try to live simply and so nourish detachment from everything but God's will. The less clutter around us, the freer are we to give ourselves to what w~ are asked. Often, tO want something is to get it. We get into a car, pick up a phone, write a check, press a key, or ask for it--and presently we have it. This is not true for vast tracts of the world, but it is true for much of it; and, given the chance, most people on every con- Review for Religious tinent seem to want to live like that. Religious professedly "poor in fact and spirit" share that same humanity. Because of this human tendency to acquire, they need constant vigilance, personal disci-pline, and continually renewed motivation in order to accompany Jesus on his gospel journey. Our circumstances need to reflect the authentic gospel challenge. Otherwise, despite our intent the cri-teria offered by the Lukan Jerusalem journey will seem an impos-sible ideal--the sort of ideal someone had in mind when saying archly that, with the Ten Commandments, "as in any examina-tion, only five need be attempted." Without the insight of faith, our postmodern environmental circumstances are likely to keep sug-gesting a "more reasonable" way of life, and we are likely to accept it unthinkingly. The chapel of a religious community, open on Sunday for Mass to a hundred or so people, presented a stark picture during Lent. The crucifix and statues were covered. A large swathe of purple material across the front of the altar ended in a symbolically overturned chalice. The lecterns from where Scripture was read and the gospel preached were engulfed in purple. The branches of a leafless tree reached up and out from its purpled-wrapped trunk. To the visitor it said that for this community Lent really meant something. Something has happened here. For the people wor-shiping here on Sunday, if the words spoken were at one with the setting, they could scarcely be less than disturbing. If, however, the religious community's life were at one with those words and those symbols, people attending would receive sufficient support and encouragement. The chapel inside the house, however, where the community prayed and worshiped with a few people during the week, was rather differe.nt. There was no suggestion of purple, aridity, or stark challenge in the folksy, chatty chapel. It was, in a word, domestic. There was no provision, no place, for a moment of pri-vacy in which individuals might face themselves before God; the chairs around the orange carpet formed a square with the altar, and people spoke and laughed easily across the space. A visitor asked how the community could issue so sharp a statement to people coming on Sunday from the pressures of their postmodern environment, and yet offer so little challenge in the chapel where they themselves were at home. They may have spent the night in prayer, dined on bread and water, and been selfless in serving the poor, but the climate they chose for themselves for November-December 2001 Macdonald * Where Your Heart Is addressed and told to consider whether we can leave everything, even life itself, to accompany Jesus. worship and prayer did not suggest that. The Sunday chapel may have been a liturgical or catechetical visual-aid for others; but, if they were to accompany their Lord to Jerusalem's summit, much more than a public gesture was necessary. It might be a good idea to have a framed copy of Charles de Foucauld's "dedication" in both chapels, but, for us and others to glimpse the simplicity of what he saw, we need to recognize that environment and appro-priate symbols matter, that we must make special efforts to free ourselves from many assumptions of contemporary society. Unless we do this, an easy acceptance of what we see around us in matters of lifestyle, furnishings, and aspirations will inevitably lead us into a certain secularity. Earlier history and the evidence of the last thirty years surely make that point incontrovertible. There can be no objective and globally acceptable standard here, but, for people who think of accepting the blunt challenge of the Jerusalem journey, surroundings do matter. One by one we are addressed and told to consider whether we can leave every-thing, even life itself, to accompany OFle by oFle we are Jesus. As ever, the situation is made plain in the Lukan approach: "Go on your way. I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no. purse, no bag, no sandals, and greet no one on the road. What-ever house you enter, first say, 'Peace to this house'" (10:3-5). Our sole security lies in being with Jesus, but, for such security to be ours, we must leave much else on which people around us reasonably rely. To behave differently we must see other than they do. In our dedication to the gospel, we scarcely have time for normal civilities, and yet we frequently offer the gift of peace and expect our words to have effect. We must accompany our risen Lord closely to function like that. Even if we sometimes see bringing some peace as a short-term mission, the effort may still be a weighty burden, and one that is clearly related to the rest of the Jerusalem journey. If our following of Jesus occurs in "the real world" (where being a lamb among wolves argues no future and scarcely any pre-sent), temptations to go through a gap in the hedge for a respite from the effort of keeping close to Jesus will inevitably occur. Lukan pastoral care admits as much: "Whoever denies me before others will be denied before the angels of God" (12:8-9). On arriv-ing in Jerusalem, the disciples collapsed under the pressure and did deny Jesus. In a postmodern world, we too are frail human beings, and the pressure to distance ourselves from him, not least by a more "reasonable" lifestyle, will always be there. To prevent this, we need to know where our real wealth is. "Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also" (12:34). Jesus' answer to the rich young man's question, "What shall I do to inherit eternal life?" left him sad, "for he had great possessions" (18:18, 22) and his heart was not as close to Jesus as he had sup-posed. "Jesus looking at him said, 'How hard it is for those who have riches to enter the kingdom of God. For it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle" (18:24-25). Money and the power it brings opens most doors here on earth, but Jesus makes it unmistakably plain that it cannot buy anyone's way into his company. But for the grace of God, it would perhaps be an insuperable obstacle. Delight in the Word Inviting and challenging, Jesus looks at us too. He wants our company so much that he has risen from a grave to enable us to enter into his kingdom. There is a personal.relationship here. Intimacy with God and living at one with God's will, these are what living life to the full means. Here is human purpose, and our purpose. "Jesus rejoiced in the Holy Spirit and said, 'I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and intelligent and have revealed them to infants . All things have been handed over to me by my .Father" (10:21-22). These words are spoken after the disciples' excited return from venturing out among the people supported only by trust in Jesus' word. Now they know from experience something of the possibilities and power of his message. Many others who seem better placed than they to understand do not know what the disciples know. Jesus is ecstatic. "Thrilled with joy in the Holy Spirit," he looks in wonder at these "infants" who were coming to know him and his Father. On our journey you and I ake in the company of our risen Lord; we. are not isolated strangers at a bus stop waiting for something to turn up. We should be full of wonder at who we are November-December 2001 Macdonald ¯ Where Your Heart Is and what we have in Christ, and never take our identity primarily from people lacking the insight of faith. In Christ, who has "given you authority., over all the power of the enemy, and nothing will hurt you" (10:19), Satanic power can be successfully challenged. "Then, turning to the disciples, Jesus said to them privately, 'Blessed are the eyes that see what you see! . . . many prophets and kings desired to see what you see, and did not see it, and to hear what you hear, and did not hear it'" (10:2,3-24). Like John the Baptist, these people, for all their insight, could only prepare for or point to what the disciples were enjoying from within the company of Jesus. To those outside that company, his parables and teaching might be helpful stories to take or leave; but, for the "infants" around Jesus; these words reached both mind and heart and helped form their consciences as guides to life. There is much more for us to see if we "infants" develop genuine receptivity to and then realization of the gift of God in the risen Christ. Insofar as the wonder of that gift is ours, we will have the "stick-to-itive-ness," courage, and conviction to share .it with others on the jour-ney. We know that We are treasured by our risen Lord, and so we come to treasure him. He is where our heart is! For perhaps significant numbers of religious and would-be religious, it is asking too much to make more that a notional con-nection between words then and work now. The biblical word is respected, but even in generally literate societies words do not always communicate in depth, often because there are just too many of them to hold our attention. Yet, to this day in the his-tory of the church and consecrated life, Scripture has had an intrin-sic power which people have felt and which has energized for God some of the greatest evangelical witnesses. A contemporary vade mecum of consecrated life--P~'ta conse-crata-- points to Scripture as "the first source of all Christian spir-ituality." There is undoubtedly a wider awareness of this in recent .decades, but we may have some way to go before all of us have the view that "the primacy of holiness and prayer is inconceivable without a renewed listening to the word of God, . . . a life-giving encounter., which draws from the biblical text the living word which questions, directs, and shapes our lives" (§39). Only some-one like the Holy Father, speaking from experience of that back-ground and also very aware of the contemporary challenge to the gospel, could be convinced that, while "we do not know what the new millennium has in store for us,., we are certain that it is safe Revie't.v for Religious in the hands of Christ." (§35). The Lukan Jerusalem journey, approached from within that mindset, would produce a like conviction. Pope John Paul saw the pilgrims in Rome for Jubilee 2000 as representative of so many others, each individual reflecting "the story of someone whom Christ had met, and who in dialogue with him was setting out again on a journey of hope" (§8). As an older brother, perhaps, on the journey, he has learned from experience that, "if Christ is presented to young people as he really is, they experience him as an answer that is convincing and they can accept his message, even when it is demanding and bears the mark of the cross" (§9). This is why he does not hesitate to challenge and call on them "to make a radical choice of faith and life., a stupen-dous task; to become 'morning watchmen' (Is 21:11-12) at the dawn of the new millennium" (§9). Consecrated people, glimpsing Christ "as he really is" from the Gospel pages, might feel called to respond to that same challenge as they journey together, eager to share their delight in their risen Lord. "Remaining firmly anchored in Scripture, we open ourselves to the action of the Spirit" (§17), and who can say where that may lead us? Notes t John Henry Newman, Apologia pro Vita Sua (Longmans Green, 1890), p. 241. 2 Newman, Apologia, p. 242. 3 John Paul II, Apostolic Letter, Novo Millennio Ineunte, Rome, 6 January 2001. Numbers here and subsequently refer to paragraphs. 4 Walter J. Ciszek sJ, He Leadeth Me, repays rereading for an appre-ciation of faith today. through/be ~do~n! ~nd Cbri~tmo~ t~ b/~6~ing~ of ~oat'~ ~nt~dng into $ia creation in November-December 2001 church and MARIE BRINKMAN Criteria for Change: Women's Ministering to the Body of Christ ministry To search in the past for signs of a viable future for reli-gious women's communities is to reverse the usual order of things, but that is what I intend. I offer a rationale for searching there. I seek, however, not criteria for esti-mating outcomes of change, but rather the foundation made up of sisters' lives which itself takes the measure of other criteria and thus provides the framework for wise discernment. The dawn of a new millennium suggests radical change, much of it underway, yet brings from some quarters hints of probable demise. We know that, for the authors of the many articles and books on the present situation of religious men and women, the good of God's people is the primary concern. And we well know that, if religious communities are to survive, they will do so in response to that people's need and in fidelity to the gospel, particularly its radical counsels. These are any century's religious foundations and the basis for all reform and renewal. But, in the life of religious communities of women, what in particular urges their Marie Brinkman SCL presented this paper at the History of Women Religious Conference at Marquette University in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, in June 2001. She is a professor at Saint Mary College; 4100 South Fourth Street; Leavenworth, Kansas 6604-8. Review for Religious continuance? What characteristics should serve as norms for appropriate change, in the face of diminishing numbers, advancing median ages, and increasing opportunities for minis-tering to God's people in lay and secular life? In her hopeful assessment of a third-millennial future for women religious, Jo Ann Kay McNamara observes that sisters from the "young" African and Asian churches "are already in the process of changing their worlds as their foremothers in the West did for so many centuries." And she foresees "a larger global sisterhood" in which religious women of the West will revise their institutions and women of all cultures will devise new forms of rule, commu-nity, and ministry (pp. 643-644). Ways of envisioning and shaping such inevitabilities are what we must seek. In this regard Joel Giallanza csc asserts that "the quality and integrity of religious life as a sign of unity in the church for the future is direcdy related to the quality and integrity which religious life embodies today" (pp. 468-469). That quality and integrity must inform any criteria for discerning constructive change in community and ministry. When communities, particularly apostolic ones, revisit their charism (as Vatican documents on religious life have urged) and when they engage laypersons as associates (communal or profes-sional) in the realization of that charism, even in these charted waters they run risks described by Francis W. Danella OSFS. While believing that "efforts to recapture the spirit of the foundation have been the singularly most hopeful development in religious life since the council" (p. 266), Danella cites a major risk, that of failure to integrate individual needs and community priorities, personal growth and the common good. We might well add that it is a risk rooted in human nature that has become greater in the last three decades. It takes subtle forms that only habitual and rigorous spiritual discernment at every level of decision making and leadership can recognize. Mary Anne Foley CND, in her careful critique of two widely read works of the past decade, Ann Carey's Sisters in Crisis and Quifionez and Turner's Transformation of ,4merican Catholic Sisters, asks for continuing dialogue between the polarized constituencies studied by these authors (pp. 342-357). She acknowledges serious inadequacies attending the documentation of their views, but is convinced that nonetheless the Spirit speaks to us through one another, within our diverse limitations. Her most significant obser- November-December 2001 Brinkman ¯ Criteria for Chan~e The fundamental question before us, I think, is whether personal relationship to God, in its rhythm of continuing call and free response, has taken directions in the lives of religious women so concrete as to be guidelines for the future. vation, I think, follows a statement that Christian men and women have for centuries linked their lives to God by means of vows. She adds: "They have done this not., primarily as a witness to oth-ers, but because God has somehow reached into their lives, and so, in being true to themselves, they structure their lives around their rela-tionship to God" (my emphasis; pp. 351,356). She credits Edward Vacek sJ for the latter concept. Here we draw close to the source of continuity over two thousand years of religious commu-nity life, regardless of what reforms or renewals have attended it. The same source or cause will guarantee its contin-uance throughout another millennium. Michael Himes would call the source a radical poverty, an ultimate dependency that he says is "the key value in the vows" (p. 21). Joan Chittister would call it the ultimate commitment and radical atten-tiveness to the presence of God in every aspect of a vowed life. It is my contention, hardly'unique, that this centrality of God, this fact of personal relationship to God, realized and grasped as the origin and end of all resolve and purpose, and of all consequent rela-tionship and mission, is the efficacious cause of continuing life in religious com-munity. All change and adaptation, all forms of communal living and ministry that may develop, will be tested and must be evaluated by this criterion. But spiritual reality must take sensible form if it is to become a human measure of worth. As adaptations and innovations multiply, so do reports and projections. More significant are potentially prophetic voices that try to discern the Spirit in radical change and the reactions it pro-vokes. Few--scholars and prophets included--would presume to forecast the future with confidence. Some contemplate the end of our life as we have known it, or its evolution into confederations, syneisactic (Greek syneisdgein, to. bring in together) communities of mixed genders and terms of commitment, new monastic/apos- Review for Religious tolic arrangements, or vowed ministry within a church defined in nonhierarchical terms. The fundamental question before us, I think, is whether per-sonal relationship to God, in its rhythm of continuing call and free response, has taken directions in the lives of religious women so concrete as to be guidelines for the future--directions, in fact, so clear as to suggest qualities essential to the continuance and integrity of these women's communities. The limitation of aca-d

Issue 57.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1998. ; f,o r r eltg ous Christian Heritages and Contempora~ Living SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER1998. VOLUME57. :NUMBER5 Review for Religious is a forum for shared reflection on the lived experience of all who 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, bistorical, 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 correspondence 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 per,nission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe TracT Gramm Jean Read James and Joan Felling Kathryn Richards FSP Joel Rippinger OSB Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wktberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1998 ¯ VOLUME 57 ¯ NUMBER 5 contents 454 feature Learning Communities: A Spirituality of Work for the Information Age Michael Skelley proposes that a spirituality which focuses on creating learning communities promises to be especially appropriate for work in the info~'mation age. He integrates theological concepts with ideas from organizational development research. 472 484 491 ignatian spirituality The Parables of Jesus and the Ignatian Exercises John J. Begley SJ offers a contemporary understanding of Jesus' parables that inserts their use within the Ignatian Exercises and so facilitates a retreatant's entering into the experience of Jesus. St. Ignatius and My Piano Anita J. Baly reflects on how her experience of the Ignatian Exercises gave her insight about playing the piano and praying as complementary processes that call on remarkably similar skills. consecrated life The Experience of God in Consecrated Life during the 20th Century Joseph A. Tetlow SJ sums up the differences between the pre-Vatican II and Vatican II approaches to consecrated life in terms of the postmodern understanding of experience as constructed, derivative, intentional, and dialogic. Review for Religious 513 Gathering the Fragments: Associate Leaders Reflect on Their Experience Roberta Archibald SSJ, Joanne Bauer SBS, and Jean Ustasiewski OSF share the experience of a group of associate leaders who meet regularly in the Philadelphia area. 522 529 536 prayer Unceasing Prayer: Romancing the Divine Jerry D. Keeney develops the image of romancing the Divine for shaping our relationship with God. Prayer Joseph McCloskey SJ draws upon his experience as a pray-er to describe some necessary elements in a prayer life. Renewal of Prayer Mary Terese Donze ASC explores ways in which the word of God inspires and nourishes our prayer life beyond and above every book on prayer. departments 452 Prisms 541 Canonical Counsel: The Evangelical Counsel of Obedience: Key Current Legislation 547 Book Reviews September-October 1998 That they may be one, as we are one. prisms Rpe John Paul II wrote the encyclical That They May Be One (Ut Unum Sint) in 1995. This document, dealing with our Christian commitment to ecumenism, took its title from the petition spoken by Jesus in his Last Supper discourse as remembered in the Gospel of St. John. Jesus prayed that all his followers would be blessed with the unity, the oneness which his Abba-Father and he enjoyed: "That all may be one as you, Father, are in me, and I in you; I pray that they may be one in us" On 17:21). A most pervasive tendency among us is to make a divi-sion of any grouping into "them" and "us." It happens in families, between those "siblings or relatives who are "out" and those who are "in." It occurs in the way male and female differences have become "them" and "us" in the gender movements of our day. It is evident in the struggles caused by racial, ethnic, or religious distinctions. Witness our contemporary history of the United States, Bosnia, Sudan, and Rwanda. It is found in the church whether between hierarchy/clergy and laity or between liberal and conservative/traditionalist. Even an official church action like excommunication pronounced by local bishops or by Vatican congregations seems to divide off members into a "them" against an "us." Historically it has been true that religious congregations vied with each other within the church, for example, the competition between branches of 14th-century Franciscans and between 17th-century Dominicans and Jesuits--something in consecrated life, Review for Religious thank the Spirit, which seems less a problem in our time. It is writ large in the struggles in our economic world between east and west and between north and south--the "have's and the have-not's." The "them" and "us" (or, at its personal ultimate, "the world" and "me") mentality seems to be in the very air we breathe. What does this year dedicated in a special way to the Spirit call forth in us? Our desire could well be that the Spirit gift us with various prisms through which to view life and our relation-. ships with others in more accepting ways. We might pray that the Spirit become for us the pervading atmosphere in which we live and move and have our being. We need to stir ourselves to take the first few steps away from "political maps" that divide everything into a "them" and "us." We could decide to take action by our daily examination of conscience~ We begin our examen by thanking God for the small ways in which we have allowed the Spirit to unite ourselves with others in our thinking about them and in our acting towards them. We then examine ourselves and note the occasions when we have succeeded in avoiding a "them" and "us" attitude and the occasions when we have not. We, moved by the Spirit, beg God's forgiveness for the obtuseness of our minds and the hardness of our hearts in choosing and reinforcing the deadly worldview of division in our behaviors of this day. Finally we ask ever more fervently for the outpouring of the Spirit upon us to strengthen us in our mission. Empowered by the Spirit, we dedicate ourselves anew to struggle at eliminating the "them" and "us" mentality in our family, in our community, in our parish life, in our work life, and in whatever other areas it seems to pre-vail. The Spirit is the Love-Reality, the very communio, of God's life. The Spirit, we might ~ay, is the Love-touch of God's life in us, and so the Spirit's presence in our lives means our communion of life with our Trinitarian God. The Spirit's activity is God's cre-ating the communio among all of us here and now. Christ's prayer, then, becomes more insistently our prayer and moves us so to work to bring about a world that is at once more human and more divine--that all may be one. David L. Fleming SJ September-October 1998 feature MICHAEL SKELLEY Learning Communities: A Spirituality of Work for the Information Age Many spiritualities of work have been developed by the world's religious traditions. The differences between these spiritualities come not only-from their various theological presuppositions, but also from the various economic and social realities they address. As the nature of work has changed over the course of human history, so too have the religious interpretations of work. We have entered a new era in the history of work, the information age. The new realities of the workplace pose an immense challenge to workers and to the theologians, pastoral counselors, and ministers who want to help them develop a spirituality of work. How can we articulate, fos-ter, and practice a spirituality of work appropriate to the information age? We may not simply assume that a spir-ituality deduced from past theologies will fit our present situation. If the nature of work truly has changed, then a different kind of spirituality will be required.~Nor can we assume that theologians have the competence by them-selves to develop a new spirituality of work. This task requires ~hat we dialogue with a wide range of scholars who study contemporary work organizations. The potential number of partners and possible agen-das for such a dialogue is immense, and we cannot engage Michael Skelley is a full-time faculty member and the director of the undergraduate program at DePaul University's School for New Learning. His research and publications have focused on spirituality, worship, work, and learning. His address is DePaul University; 243 S. Wabash, #700; Chicago, Illinois 60660. Re~iew for Religious them all. Nor will we survey the historical development of the theology of work; that has been done quite well elsewhere.~ We will integrate some insights from this tradition with a few ideas from scholars of information-age work. The growing consensus in the latter field is that the primary challenges and opportunities of the information-age workplace revolve around learning. In the Christian tradition, coincidentally, learning has long been seen as a path to holiness. This paper, therefore, will explore how a spirituality focused on transforming our workplaces into learn-ing communities might be an apt spirituality of work for the infor-mation age. The Spirituality of Work Throughout the Judeo-Christian tradition, work has been seen as both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, we some-times experience work as an opportunity to display our talents, develop our gifts, contribute to the common good, and exercise our creativity. When work is like that, it is joyful, engaging, and fulfilling. Such work experiences return intrinsic rewards that far outweigh their extrinsic compensations: they satisfy some of our deepest needs and highest aspirations. But, on the other hand, we also experience work as overwhelmed by impossible demands, torn by interpersonal conflicts, dehumanized by trivial proce-dures, and oppressed by unjust practices. Such work causes frus-tration, anger, and despair. Whatever compensation we receive, then, cannot repair the damage done to our spirits and bodies. When our work is like this, it poisons us and our family, friends, and communities. Work brings out the best and the worst in us. We need a spirituality of work precisely because work is so ambivalent. As our spiritual predecessors did in their own cir-cumstances, we search for ways of working which might help us taste more of work's blessings and fewer of its curses. We search, in other words, for ways to transform our ambivalent experiences of work into a consistent experience of God. Our positive expe-riences inspire us to believe in the goodness of work. Can we, then, find ways of working which regularly evoke the best in us and our work? Our negative experiences test our character and challenge us to change. Can-wE find ways of working which will liberate us from the destructive aspects of our work and our work-places? This transformation is the task of a spirituality of work. September- October 1998 Skelley ¯ Learning Communities A spirituality of work is a way of working that helps cowork-ers to achieve together our fullest development as human beings. Three points are important about this definition. Thefirst is that a spirituality of work is a way of working, not a way of promot-ing religious ideas and practices. Work can be integrated into spirituality without being interpreted in explicitly religious ways. We need to challenge that ancient legacy of dualist thinking which still conditions most people to assume that secular activities can-not, by definition, be sacred. That is why P~re Marie-Dominique Chenu, a pioneer, in the modern effort to develop theologies of work, said that the question of the relationship between nature and grace is fundamental to the spirituality of work.2 When people see grace and nature as separate and opposed realities, they think that the task of a spirituality of work is to make work explicitly religious. Spirituality then becomes the intrusion of something foreign into the work. Unfortunately, most of what is touted today as spirituality of work suffers from vari-ous degrees of this dualistic thinking. Such spiritualities impose religious ideas, language, and practices on work. The vigorous resistance that many working people have to these intrusions is justified, not simply because these spiritualities discourage humane work, but also because they encourage questionable theology. But when grace and nature are seen as inseparable, the task of a spirituality of work is to enhance something that is already pres-ent in the work. Spirituality then becomes a matter of making explicit what is already implicit. If, as Karl Rahner said;, our world is permeated with the divine self-communication, we can experi-ence God and achieve our fullest human potential even in the most ordinary kinds of work.3 Work becomes spiritual, not by becoming religious, but by becoming more truly work, by being true to the spiritual dimensions already part of its character. This does not diminish the important and proper place of religion; rather, it points to religion's roots in daily life. Such a spiritual-ity of work is concerned with fostering human development in ways which are appropriate to the workplace. It supports the potential we already know work possesses to engage our gifts and contribute to the common good. ~ Second, the definition above implies that a way of working is a form 6f spirituality to the extent that it supports our complete human development. Holiness is a matter of wholeness, and so whatever fosters our holistic human development leads us toward Review for Religious spiritual maturity as well.4 Or, as Irenaeus taught, God is glorified when human beings are fully alive. The major religious and spir-itual traditions of the world have proven successful at furthering the kind of human development we seek. They provide us with a wealth of complementary images of the breadth and depth of our potential as human beings. Obviously, each of these traditions has been guilty at times of fostering narrow-minded notions of virtue that highlight only some aspects of what we are capable of becoming. But, when they are seen together, it is clear that they share some fundamental values, attitudes, and standards that lead people toward fulfilling their human poten-tial and help them understand this effort,s The task of a spirituality of work is to root our ways of working in these basic understandings of holistic human development. This second point does not con-tradict the first one, namely, that the spirituality of work is a way of work-ing and not a way of promoting religious ideas. To say that a spir-ituality of work needs to be rooted in the values of the world's religious traditions is simply to propose that we need to be reflec-tive about the assumptions we bring to our work. The ways we work necessarily presuppose certain ideas, frequently muddled and usually unarticulated, about the values that guide our lives. The question is not whether we want to have a spirituality of work or not; everyone already has some sort of spirituality of work, although we are rarely conscious of this fact. Nor is the point to advocate the values of one particular religious tradition, no matter how emi-nent they may be. To do so would be to presume a consensus in the workplace about religion that is unlikely to exist. The goal is to be reflective about our fundamental values and to ensure that they support not only efficient and effective work, but fully humane work as well. We can do so by rooting our work in the most uni-versal possible expressions of basic human values. The third point we need to notice about the definition above is that a spirituality of work is about achieving our full human development together, in common, not just individually. It is a Work becomes spiritual, not by becoming religious, but by becoming more truly work, by being true to the spiritual dimensions already part of its character. Septentber-October 1998 Skelley ¯ Learning Communities way of working together with our coworkers for the transforma-tion of our work and our workplaces so that all of us can develop our full human potential. In other words, we need to challenge another kind of dualism, that between our private, individual selves and our public, communal selves. Popular spiritualities today typically identify the spiritual with an individual's interior experience. People seldom connect work with spirituality, for it is associated with the public and exterior dimensions of our lives.6 Popular attempts .to develop a spirituality of work typically assume that their task is to enhance our individual, interior development. They rarely reflect on how the spirituality of work could and should be something that all workers share. This dualistic think-ing does a disservice both to work and to spirituality. It ultimately reinforces the kind of depersonalized, mechanistic approach to work associated with Frederick Taylor, the inadequacies of which are now widely recognized.7 And it misses the critical insight of liberation and feminist theologies that transformation of the social, political, and communal dimensions of our lives is an essential part of spiritual development. Work in the Information Age: Organizational Learning After this review of the task faced by a spirituality Of work, we now need to explore how the information age has changed the nature of the work we do. This will prepare us to think about how a spirituality of work needs to be different today. At the beginning of this century, most workers in the United States were either farmers or domestic servants. By 1950 the com-position of the workforce had completely changed, and most workers were engaged in some form of industrial labor.8 The the-ologies and spiritualities of work that have appeared in the last fifty years focus on the issues of that industrial age, not recognizing how work has changed.9 At the end of the 20th century, it is clear that we have entered an entirely new age in the history of work. We live in a postindustrial society of "knowledge work," the infor-mation age. A significant but steadily shrinking number of work-ers are still employed in the industrial sector, and many others work in service jobs, but the largest portion of the workforce now consists of knowledge workers. By the year 2000, only ten percent of the workforce in the United States and other postindustrial countries will be directly involved in making things.19 Review for Religious While our parents and grandparents usually worked with their hands, moving and making things, most of us work with our heads. The work we do involves knowing, thinking, and learning. Our jobs do not simply require more educational preparation than the work of previous generations did. They require us to do some-thing fundamentally different: to create, interpret, organize, apply, transfer, and manage knowledge. Knowledge work radically changes the nature of a market economy and redefines the rela-tionship between workers and the means of production. This is a new kind of economy and a new kind of work.1~ As Peter Drucker has said, "The social center of gravity has shifted to the knowledge worker. M1 developed countries are becoming postbusiness, knowledge societies. Access to good jobs and career opportunities in developed countries increasingly requires a university diploma. Looked at one way, this is the !ogical result of a long evolution in which we moved from working by the sweat of our brow and by muscle to industrial work and finally to knowledge work. But the development also represents a sharp break with the past."12 Knowledge work requires new abilities to continually learn from and think with one's coworkers. In the past, tasks that required thinking could typically be carried out by individuals using general knowledge. Much of today's knowledge work, in contrast, is too complex for any generalist to accomplish alone. It requires the coordinated efforts of a variety of specialists. People must be able to share their expertise with one another for the work to get done. The primary agent of knowledge work, there-fore, is an organization, not an individual. This fact need not diminish the importance or dignity of the individual worker. It is a consequence of the highly specialized expertise that individ-ual knowledge workers have. Together they are able to create some-thing that none of them could create alone: Knowledge work is a multifaceted task that requires the collaboration of a variety of experts and specialists. It must be done by an organization con-centrated on a particular task. Effective organization, then, is a necessary condition for knowledge work.13 Consequently, as knowledge workers we must work not just for an organization, but at it. That is to say, we must work con-tinually at growing with our colleagues into a community that can do real knowledge work. The organization is not just where we work; it is an essential outcome of our work itself. The task of cre-ating an effective organization where knowledge work is possible Septe~tber- October 1998 Skelley ¯ Learning Communities is an inescapable part of each knowledge worker's creative efforts. The nature of knowledge work requires us to deal continually with organizational change, development, and transformation. The academic or professional discipline which concentrates on organizational change is commonly called organization develop-ment. L4.Organization development systematically applies behav-ioral science knowledge to the planned development of organizational strategies, structures, and processes in order to improve an organization's effectiveness.~s Organization develop-ment is practiced in many different ways. Most recent approaches, however, emphasize increasing the organization's capacity to learn.~6 For example, Peter Senge, director of the Center for Organizational Learning at MIT's Sloan School of Management, focuses on creating learning organizations, "organizations where people continually expand their capacity to create the results they truly desire, where new and expansive patterns of thinking are nurtured, where collective aspiration is set free, and where peo-ple are continually learning how to learn together."~7 Organizational change experts focus their efforts on organi-zational learning for many reasons. They hope that learning will simultaneously foster the development of the people in the orga-nization and provide superior economic performance. They see it as an extension of the movement to improve the quality of prod-ucts and services. They see it as a way of managing the increas-ingly rapid pace of social and technological change.~8 But, most basically, they recognize that there cannot be any consistent change for the better in work organizations unless these organi-zations are able to learn. All planned change presumes learning, and so leading change is a matter of facilitating learning. Argyris and Sch6n speak of this "learning imperative": "Now in the mid-1990s, it is conventional wisdom that business firms, governments, nongovernmental organizations, schools, health-care systems, regions, even whole nations and supranational insti-tutions need to adapt to changing environments, draw lessons from past successes and failures, detect and correct the errors of the past, anticipate and respond to impending threats, conduct experiments, engage in continuing innovation, build and realize images of a desirable future. There is a virtual consensus that we are all subject to a 'learning imperative,' and in the academic as well as the practical world, organizational learning has become an idea in good currency.'''9 Review for Religious But it is not proving easy to transform our work organiza-tions into learning communities. Organization-development spe-cialists agree that our work organizations have handicaps that prevent them from learning effectively. Senge thinks that funda-mental difficulties most organizations have in becoming learning communities can be traced in part to traditional Christian spiri-tualityd° He says that our work organizations have been rendered dysfunctional by three problems: reactiveness, fragmentation, and competition. These problems reflect deeper cultural problems that are due in large part to a tradition of dualistic thinking in Western society. From his reading of Thomas Merton, Joseph Campbell, Raine Eisler, and Elaine Pagels, Senge thinks that Christianity insti-tutionalized this dualistic thinking. Obviously, Senge's critique of Christianity would need to be more carefully nuanced and solidly supported, but in its broad outlines it is consistent with the critiques made by lib-eration, feminist, and ecological theologians.21 The problem is not spirituality per se,. but the consequences of dualistic, hierarchical, and patriarchal spiritual-ities. Dorothee Soelle, for example, says: "The tendency to isolate Christian faith from the social order has meant, among other things, that mainstream theology has failed to address work in the context of creation and redemption. It has ignored the worlds of pain created by the structural organization of our work. It has unconsciously or often even cynically obscured our creation as workers in the image of 'the great artist.' Christianity has a long record of complicity in bad, meaningless, or harmful work. This is the result not just of insufficient ethical reflection, but also of the inability to perceive Christ's work in returning the world to its people. Resurrection from sin's power happens in good work. We still wait for good work. Through good work we are revealed, in our creative empowerment, as children of God.''22 Senge is one of many organizational-change experts who see a pressing need for a new, holistic spirituality of information-age work.23 Senge's comments about spirituality and organizational change are particularly striking both because of the wide accep-tance his approach to organizational change has gained and because of the scholarly foundation that supports his work. The "Christianity has a long record of complicity in bad, meaningless, or harmful work." September-October 1998 Skelley ¯ Learning Communities fact that Senge and his colleagues stress spirituality so strongly, albeit clumsily, indicates that this area is being given more and more serious consideration by professionals in the field of orga-nization development. It is clear, therefore, that the only certainty amidst the turmoil in our workplaces today is that we must learn how to learn. A host of inexorable forces such as the explosion of information, the shrinking of the global marketplace, the reordering of social priorities, and the emergence of new technologies is reshaping every sector of the working world. Both the environment and our work requirements are changing, and changing more and more rapidly. In times of such pervasive change, neither individual workers nor work organizations are likely to be effective unless they can learn easily, quickly, and well. An important part of all knowledge work today is the transformation of our work organi-zations into learning communities. The Spirituality of Learning Learning is not only a critical issue for the information age; it is also a fruitful theme for spirituality. Learning has often been seen by the spiritual and religious traditions of the world as a path to holiness. Jean Leclercq's classic work on medieval monas-ticism, The Love of Learning and the Desire for God, beautifully cap-tures one manifestation of this intimate relationship between learning and spirituality.24 We do not have space here to sample all the rich and varied ways theologians have interpreted the role of learning in spirituality. We will focus instead on just one the-ologian who has had a widespread effect on contemporary Christian theology, Karl Rahner. Epistemological concerns are at the foundation of Rahner's understanding of Christianity, and in that sense his theology is a theology of learning. His insights can readily be translated into a spirituality of learning which deep-ens the way we see the purpose, process, and products of learning. First, Rahner changes the way we see the process of learning by showing us that learning always involves self-transcendence.2s For Rahner, learning is an activity which is necessarily rooted in our nonconceptual awareness of God. We can know finite things only because we can transcend them and experience God. Learning is possible for us because we are embodied spirits (Geist-irn- Welt) capable of self-transcendence. We are able to learn about Reviezv for Religious our material, temporal world precisely because we can reach beyond it and open ourselves to the infinite horizon of absolute mystery. This preapprehension (Vorgriff) of God is the condition for the possibility of any and every act of learning. Every time we learn anything, we experience our transcendental openness to God. When we explore the spirituality of learning, we are not introducing a transcendent element to the learning process, but rather affirming one that is already there. This means that we can never entirely understand, much less hope to control, the process of learning. We generally think of learning as a skill that we can direct and develop, and it is. Most of us expend energy throughout our lifetimes not only learning but learning how to learn. As teachers, parents, colleagues, or friends, we are also regularly called upon to direct the learning of others. We even assume that some people are such proficient learners that they will inevitably be master teachers. But the fact that our ability to learn depends upon our transcendental open-ness to the horizon of absolute mystery means that the learning process transcends our control. All learning requires that we sur-render ourselves to our capacity for self-transcendence. And, if we want to help others learn, we have to support their self-tran-scendence. We will generate very little new learning if we restrict or manipulate the learning process. Ultimately, learning is not a skill to be mastered but a mystery to be loved. Practicing a spir-ituality of learning, then, means creating space for the experience of self-transcendence to happen. Second, Rahner's theology of freedom changes the way we see the products of learning by showing that learning always involves our free self-creation.26 Learning is an expression of the capacity we have as embodied spirits to act freely. The prod-ucts of our free acts are not simply choices between particular goods. Freedom is also a process through which we create our-selves. Whenever we exercise our freedom, we not only make a choice about a particular good; we also make a choice about our-selves. The decisions we make determine who we are as persons in relationship to God and the world. Some of our free acts so totally engage us that they constitute fiandamental choices about who we are. Other acts engage us less completely and serve to confirm or,deny the fundamental selves we have chosen to become. But every exercise of our freedom in some way is an act of self-creation. Septentber-October 1998 Skelley ¯ Learning Communities Since we exercise our freedom whenever we learn, every act of learning is an act of self-creation. We usually assume that the products of learning are new ways of thinking and acting. But, for Rahner, our own self-creation is also a product of every act of learning. Whenever we learn, we not only learn about something particular; we also help determine who we will become as per-sons. Learning is not just a process through which we adopt new behaviors or ideas; it is a process of creating ourselves. Each choice we make about what, why, or how we will learn contributes in some way to our self-realization. The criteria by which we assess the products .of our learning, therefore, need to include the question of whether we are becoming more fully human, Measured by this criterion, learning which does not support holis-tic human development is fundamentally flawed. People who resist learning risk dehumanizing themselves just as much as those who resist loving. This is not to say that our value as persons is depen-dent upon how bright we are. Learning can no more be reduced to intelligence than love can be reduced to emotion. But learning and loving are critical to our self-realization because both are ways we fulfill our human potential for relationship with the world and the mystery of God. Practicing a spirituality of learning, therefore, means honoring this process of self-creati0n. Third, Rahner's theology of grace changes the way we see the purpose of learning.27 For Rahner, our transcendental orientation to the holy mystery has been universally graced by God's self-communication. Grace is not a gift from God but the gift of God, In our "natural" experience of transcendence, the absolute.mystery of God is present to us as the horizon which we can only approach asymptotically. We believe, however, that God has not remained the distant horizon of human transcendence, but has graciously drawn near to us as free and forgiving love. We never experience our transcendence, therefore, as purely natural and ungraced. The transcendence we actually experience has been radically trans-formed by God's self-gift, which is always present at least as an invitation made to our freedom. Grace is the fulfillment of our deepest human potential as embodied spirits to be filled with the infinite God. Grace makes possible for us the immediate experi-ence of God, which is always mediated by our historicity and mate-riality. But God becomes closer, not less of a mystery, in the experience of grace. Grace is the self-communication of God as the absolute mystery who remains absolute mystery. Review for Religious This theology of grace implies, then, that the ultimate purpose of learning is not to know more, but to be known more.28 When we learn, we do not simply gather new information or master additional skills; rather, we open ourselves to the self-communi-cation of God. The deepest purpose of learning is that it leads us to the point where we surrender to God's knowing of us. Learning is a privileged opportunity to enter more deeply into the abyss of the absolute mystery of God. Learning is at its best not simply when it is rooted in good principles of pedagogy or andragogy, but when it is a form of mystagogy. The process of learning, then, develops our potential to be mystics. Rahner believed that everyone is called to be a mystic.29 Mysticism is not primarily about paranormal experiences, but about attending to hidden experiences of the mystery of God in daily life. It is difficult to be a mystic, not because God is so distant, but because. God is so present. The challenge isto find ways to notice the gracious presence of God in the midst of everything in our lives, This is easier to do in some expe-riences than others. Oddly enough, our experiences of the goodness and beauty of life are not necessarily the best places to look for God. Rahner believed that we perceive the presence of God most clearly in those events in which we struggle with our limitations. Our experiences of lim-itation bring us right to the threshold of the presence of God. To the extent that we can attend to how we transcend the limita-tions we face, we open ourselves to the mystery of God. The pro-cess of learning offers abundant opportunities to struggle with limitations and experience God. Whenever we really attempt to learn, we strain to see beyond the limits of what we currently know. If we have the courage to face the limits of what we know, therefore, we invite God to enter more deeply into our lives. Rahner shows us that the process, products, and purpose of learning have spiritual depths that we normally overlook. Learning is not a neutral process of inquiry that only takes on a spiritual character when we choose to focus it on religious phenomena. Learning is intrinsically spiritual and is one of the most impor-tant ways we have to experience God. It is not surprising that tell- Learning can no more be reduced to intelligence than love can be reduced to emotion. September-October 1998 Skelley ¯ Learning Communities gious traditions throughout the world have revered learning as a path to holiness. Whatever enhances our capacity to learn fosters our spiritual, development, whether we recognize it as such or not. Disciplines for Creating Learning Communities As the 20th century draws to a close, we are beginning to glimpse how our lives will be different in the information age. But, because this new age of work is only now coming into focus, it is impossible to see yet what all of its spiritual opportunities and challenges will be. Nonetheless, we can be certain that learn-ing will become increasingly important to the work we do. The growing significance of learning makes a new way of integrating spirituality and work possible. The most effective spirituality of work for the information age will be one based on helping us transform our workplaces into learning communities. We defined the spirituality.of work above as a way of work-ing which fosters the transformation of our work and our work-places so that together with our coworkers we may achieve our fullest development as human beings. This means that a spiritu-ality of work should be a way of working, not a way of practicing religi6us activities or enjoying esoteric experiences. It should sup-port our complete human development. And it should foster the transformation of our work communities, not just our growth as individuals. A spirituality of work which is based on creating :learn-ing communities meets these three criteria. First, since it focuses on learning, such a spirituality advocates a way of working which is not explicitly religious, and which is appropriate, even vital, to the information-age workplace. Second, since the learning process engages the fundamental basis of our human identity, our capac-ity for self-transcendence, the process of learning is a particu-larly powerful way of supporting holistic human development. Third, such a spirituality of work draws us beyond caring for our individual growth into building learning communities with one another. But, if it is to help us engage in the difficult process of con-version and growth,, this spirituality of work needs to be incarnated in particular disciplines. The major spiritualities of the West have generally encouraged disciplines such as meditation, prayer, fast-ing, reading, and service as concrete means of achieving spiritual growth. There is no qu~sti6n that such disciplines will continue Review for Religious to have an important role in a fully developed spiritual life. But, since the spirituality of work attempts to engage us in a different and more specific kind of transformation than that of traditional spiritualities, it will need to encourage some additional, new dis-ciplines. The disciplines for a spirituality of work in the infor-mation age will be the disciplines for developing organizational learning. Organizational-learning researchers have over the past fifty years advanced our understanding of what those disciplines are. Peter Senge, for example, has organized them into five sets: per-sonal mastery, shared vision, mental models, team learning, and systems thinking. Each of these disci-plines has to do with helping us develop the skills to learn effectively as individ-uals and groups. There are three distinct levels to these disciplines: practices, principles, and essences. The practices are the specific activities which con-cretely express the discipline. They are the primary focus for those beginning to follow the discipline. The underlying principles are the theoretical bases for the practice of the disciplines. Progressing in the disciplines requires following the practices and understand-ing the principles. The essences are the state of being which comes to be experienced by individuals or groups that have mastered the discipline. At this level Senge's learning disciplines are united by a common sensibility: that we are learners in an intrinsically interdependent world.3° Personal mastery is the discipline of continually clarifying and deepening our personal vision, of focusing our energies, of developing patience, and of seeing reality objectively. It involves learning to expand our personal capacity to create the results we most desire and to create an organizational environment that encourages all its members to develop themselves toward the goals and purposes they choose. The practices of this discipline include various techniques for clarifying our personal vision and for holding a creative tension between the results we desire and our grasp of current reality. Senge sees the discipline of personal mastery as the spiritual foundation for a learning organization. The disciplines for a spirituality of work in the information age will be the disciplines for developing organizational learning. September-October 1998 Skelley ¯ Learning Communities The discipline of shared vision is the collective version of the discipline of personal mastery. The discipline of shared vision builds a sense of commitment in the groups we work with by developing shared .images of the future we seek to create and the principles and guiding practices by which we hope to get there. The practices of this discipline involve techniques for helping groups both acknowledge their current realities and develop a shared picture of their future that fosters sincere commitment. This discipline assumes that, when there is genuine shared vision, people excel and learn because they want to, not because they are told to. Like the discipline of personal mastery, the discipline of men-tal models is an individually oriented dis.cipline. Senge sees men~ tal models as the deeply ingrained assumptions and generalizations that influence how we understand the world and take action. The discipline of mental models helps us reflect upon, clarify, and improve these internal pictures of the world and see how they shape our actions and decisions. The practice of this discipline also helps us learn how to carry on "learningful" conversations that get us to expose our own thinking effectively and make that thinking open to the influence of others. The discipline of team learning is the collective counterpart of the discipline of mental models. This discipline transforms conversational and collective thinking skills so that a team of coworkers increases its collective intelligence and its ability to take coordinated action. The heart of this discipline is the theory and practice of dialogue. Dialogue challenges team members to suspend assumptions and enter into genuine thinking together. Team learning also involves recognizing the patterns of interac-tion in teams that undermine learning. The most critical learning discipline for Senge is the disci-pline of systems thinking. He sees it as the discipline that inte-grates the other disciplines into a coherent body of theory and practice. Systems thinking is a way of thinking about and a lan-guage for describing ~he forces and interrelationships that shape the behavior of systems. It makes the full patterns of a system clearer and helps us see how to change them effectively. Systems thinking helps us shift from seeing problems as caused by some-one or something external to seeing how our own actions create the problems we experience. Once we discover how we create our reality, we can then change it. Review for Religious When they are used together, the methods of organizational learning represented by these five disciplines have been proven to have great potential for transforming our workplaces into learn-ing communities. They provide us with the concrete theories and strategies we need so that together with our coworkers we can not only learn, but learn how to learn. By virtue of the fact that they expand our capacity to learn, these disciplines also foster our spiritual development. The disciplines of organizational learn-ing help us to learn in new ways and so broaden our opportuni-ties to experience the spiritual depths of learning. The most effective spirituality of work for the information age will focus on transforming our work organizations into learn-ing communities. It will do so by integrating disciplines of orga-nizational learning with insights from the spiritual traditions. This paper has contributed to this integration. New approaches to organizational learning such as the ones we have mentioned here provide the spirituality of work with the concrete disciplines it needs to develop learning communities. At the same time, the insights which our spiritual and religious traditions can provide deepen our understanding of what is at stake in the transforma-tion of work. We will be able to create meaning~l spiritualities of work in this new era only if we continue to engage in this process of integration. Notes ~ William E. May, "Work, Theology of," in The New Dictionary of Catholic Social Thought, ed. Judith A. Duryer (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1994), pp. 991-1002; Karen Ready, "Work," in The Encyclopedia of Religion, ed. Mircea Eliade (New York: Macmillan Publishing Co, 1987), vol. 15, pp. 441-444; Edward C. Sellner, "Work," in The New Dictionary of Catholic Spirituality, ed. Michael Downey (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1993), pp. 1044-1051; Francis Schiissler Fiorenza, "Religious Beliefs and Pr'axis: Reflections on Catholic Theological Views of Work," in Work and Religion, ed. Gregory Baum (New York: Seabury Press, 1980), pp. 92-102. 2 Marie-Dominique Chenu, "Work," in Sacramentum Mundi: An Encyclopedia of Theology, ed. Karl Rahner (New York: Herder and Herder, 1970), vol. 6. 3 Karl Rahner, "Concerning the Relationship between Nature and Grace," in Theological Investigations (Baltimore: Helicon, 1961), vol. 1, pp. 297-317; "Nature and Grace," in Theological Investigations (New York: Crossroad, 1982), vol. 4, pp. 165-188; Foundations of Christian Faith: An Introduction to the Idea of Chr#tianity (New York: Crossroad, 1978). 4Walter Principe, "Toward Defining Spirituality," Studies in Religion Septentber-October 1998 Skelley ¯ Learning Communities 12 (1983): 127-141; Sandra Schneiders, "Spirituality in the Academy," Theological Studies 50 (1989): 676-697. s Hans Kiing and Karl-Josef Kuschel, A Global Ethic: The Declaration of tbe Parliament of the World's Religions (New York: Continuum, 1993). 6 Joseph Holland. Creative Communion: Toward a Spirituality of Work (New York: Paulist Press, 1989), pp. 24-26. 7 Frederick W. Taylor, The Principles of Scientific Management (New York: Harper and Bros., 1911); Marvin R. Weisbord, Productive Workplaces: Organizing and Managing for Dignity~ Meaning, and Community (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1987), pp. 50-69, 8 Peter Drucker Post-Capitalist Society (New York: HarperBusiness, 1993), p. 5. 9 "John Paul II, On Human Work (Laborem Exercens) (Washington, D.C.: United States Catholic Conference, 1981); Dorothee Soelle with Shirley A. Cloyes, 7~ Work and to Love: A Theology of Creation (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1984); Joe Holland, Creative Communion; Lee Hardy, The Fabric of This World: Inquiries into .Calling, Career Choice, and the Design of Human Work (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1990); Miroslav Volf, Work in the Spirit: Toward a Theology of Work (New York: Oxford University, 1991); John C. Haughey, Converting 9 to Y: A Spirituality of Daily Work (New York, Crossroad, 1989). l0 Drucker, Post-Capitalist Society, p. 5; Charles Handy, The Age of Unreason (Boston: Harvard Business School, 1989), pp. 34-35, 50-51. *~ Drucker, "The Age of Social Transformation," Atlantic Monthly (November 1994): 53-80. ~2 Drucker, The New Realities (New York: Harper, 1989), p. 173. ,3 Drucker, Post-Capitalist Society, p. 49. 14 A large and important segment of experts in this field prefers to call.the discipline "organizational transformation." See John D. Adams, ed., Transforming Work: A Collection of Organizational Transformation Readings (Alexandria: Miles River Press, 1984). ,s Thomas G. Cummings and Christopher G. Worley, Organization Development and Change (Minneapolis: West Publishing, 1993), p. 2. ~6 Chris Argyris and Donald A. Sch6n, Organizational Learning II: Theory, Method, and Practice (Reading: Addison-Wesley Publishing, 1996), ~7 Peter Senge, The Fifth Discipline: The Art and Practice of Learning Organizations (New York: Doubleday, 1990), p. 3. 18 Peter Senge et al., eds., The Fij~h Discipline Fieldbook: Strategies and Tools for Building a Learning Organization (New York: Doubleday, 1994), pp. 9-12. 19Argyris and Sch6n, Organizational II, p. xvii. 20 Senge, "Communities of Commitment: The Heart of Learning Organizations," in The Learning Organization in Action: A Special Report from Organizational Dynamics (New 'York: American Management Association, 1994), pp. 9-15. Review for Religious 21 Holland, Creative Communion, pp. 18-42, and Matthew Fox, The Reinvention of Work: A New Vision of Livelihood for Our Time (HarperSanFrancisco, 1994). 22.Soelle, 7~ Work and to Love, p. 112. 23 Adams, Transforming Work; Peter Hawkins, "The Spiritual Dimension of the Learning Organization," Management Education and Development 22 (1991): 172-187; Peter Block, Stewardship: Choosing Service over Self-Interest (San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler, 1993); Alan Briskin, The Stirring of Soul in the Workplace (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1996); Harrison Owen, Spirit: Transformation and Development in Organizations (Potomac: Abbot, 1987); and Tony Smith, Parzival's Briefcase: Six Practices and a New Philosophy for Healthy Organizational Change (San Francisco: Chronicle Books, 1993). 24 Jean Leclercq, The Love of Learning and the Desire for God: A Study of Monastic Culture (New York: Fordham University Press, 1961). 2s Karl Rahner, Spirit in the World (Montreal: Palm Publishers, 1968), pp. 57-383; Hearer of the Word(New York: Continuum, 1994), pp. 1-54; and, Foundations of Christian Faith, pp. 14-23, 26-35. 26 Karl Rahner, "Theology of Freedom," Theological Investigations (New York: Crossroad, 1982), vol. 6, pp. 178-196; Foundations of Christian Faith, pp., 35-39; "The Dignity and Freedom of Man," Theological Investigations (Baltimore: Helicon, 1963), vol. 2, pp. 246-263. 27 Karl Rahner, "Concerning the Relationship between Nature and Grace," pp. 297-317; "Some Implications of the Scholastic Concept of Uncreated Grace," Theological Investigations (Baltimore: Helicon, 1961), vol. 1, pp. 319-346; "Nature and Grace," Theological Investigations (New York: Crossroad, 1982), vol. 4, pp. 165-188; Foundations of Christian Faith,. pp. 116-133. 28 Parker J. Palmer, 7b Know as We are Known: Education as a Spiritual Journey (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1993). 29 Karl Rahner, "The Experience of God Today," Theological Investigations (New York: Crossroad, 1982), vol. 11, pp. 149-165; "Experience of the Holy Spirit," Theological Investigations (New York: Crossroad, 1983), vol. 18, pp. 189-210; "Christian Living Formerly and Today," Theological Investigations (New York: Seabury, 1977), vol. 7, pp. 3- 24. 30 This and other ideas below are developed in Senge, The Fifth Discipline, and in Senge et al., The Fifth Discipline Fieldbook. Septe~nber-October 1998 gnatian spirituality JOHN J. BEGLEY The Parables of Jesus and the Ignatian Exercises This article~ proposes a contemporary understanding of Jesus' parables, and it shouts their importance for the dynamic of the Spiritual Exercises. Those familiar with St. Ignatius's book are aware that he does not propose the parables for prayer during the Exercises. Several reasons, however, prompt the exploration of this relationship. First, contemporary scripture studies stress the importance of the parables in the Jesus' teaching, and including them within the Exercises can enrich that experience. Second, we take the New Testament seriously as the starting point of our prayer, and we want that prayer grounded in the best understanding of the New Testament that solid con-temporary scholarship can provide; Third, the parables make up a full third of Jesus' teaching, and so any attempt to "put on the mind that was in Christ Jesus" (Ph 2:5) cannot afford to overlook them. Finally, for retreatants who are troubled by doubt concerning what Jesus really said, the parables deserve our close attention. As a pio-neer of modern parable study has said, "We are standing on a particularly firm historical foundation., part of the bedrock of tradition. We are standing right before Jesus when reading his parables" (Jeremias, p. 5). Later we will discuss the dynamic of the Exercises in some detail. For the moment it will be useful to recall John J. Begley SJ teaches in the Department of Theology and Religious Studies; University of Scranton; Scranton, Pennsylvania 18510. Revie~ for Religious both the purpose of the Exercises and the purpose of the parables. Their similar purposes will readily appear. The purpose of the Exercises is "the conquest of self and the regulation of one's life in such a way that no decision is made under the influence of any inordinate attachment" (§21). Behind the somewhat archaic phras-ing is the understanding that the Exercises have as their purpose to lead "a person to true spiritual freedom, so that we make no choice or decision because we have been influenced by some dis-ordered ,attachment" (Fleming, Spiritual Exercises, §21). Similarly, the. parables' "purpose is to effect a change in the hearer, to lead to decision or action" (Boucher, p. 16-17). We begin with the parables. As Raymond Brown has remarked, "The study of the parables has generated an immense literature and sharp debates" (p. 132). We' will try to make the most of recent scholarship and to avoid controverted issues. Given the literature and the debates, it is difficult to capture the mean-ingof the parables in a single definition. J.R. Donahue in his Gospelin Parable (p. 5) cites approvingly C.H. Dodd's inductively derived definition; it will serve our purpose well. "At its simplest the parable is a metaphor or simile drawn from nature or common life, arresting the hearer by its vividness or strangeness, and leav-ing the ,mind in sufficient doubt about its precise application to tease it into active thought." As metaphor, the familiar and better known--a mustard seed, for example--is compared to the less familiar kingdom of God. The kingdom is compared to and illuminated by something bet-ter known and more readily imagined. In the context of a retreat, the astonishing growth of a tiny mustard seed into a large bush illumines the growth of the retreatant's relationship with God, which is God's work in the retreatant. As a metaphor, it moves people, to greater participation in the more obscure retreat mate-rial being described or explained. Metaphor talks of the familiar so that one can participate in the less familiar (Crossan, p. 16 ). We may note that there are parables in the Hebrew Bible: the trees (Jg 9:7-15), for example, and the ewe lamb (2 K 12:1-4). The rabbis used parables for the normal pedagogical purposes of illustrating and illuminating their teaching. The listeners of Jesus were familiar with the genre. Jesus subordinated the familiar uses of the parable to his primary purpose of proclaiming the king-dom, of sounding the call and challenge to embrace the conditions of living in the kingdom. The parables of Jesus transcend any September-October 1998 Begley ¯ The Parables of Jesus and the Ignatian Exercises previous use, for he thereby expresses what cannot be expressed by any other means than symbol and metaphor: the kingdom of God. The parables, like other, symbolic expressions, are polyva-lent. No single meaning exhausts their content. Parables cannot be reduced to a proposition. Modern parable study begins with several commonly accepted suppositions. First, the early church supplied the context of the parables as they appear in the narratives of Jesus' ministry, and we must bracket off that context if we wish to hear the parable as Jesus spoke it. For example, the command "Go and do likewise" (Lk 10:37) presently concludes the parable of the Good Samaritan. The common judgment, however, is that it does not belong to the parable as Jesus taught it, and so we exclude it from consid-eration. As we will see, the bracketing changes the parable's mean-ing dramatically. Second, the tradition has at times changed a parable of Jesus into an allegory. For example, in Mark's Gospel the parable of the sower appears both as Jesus taught it (4:3-9) and as the early church preserved it as an allegory (4:13-20). This is not to say that allegory is improper. However, to recover the para-bles as Jesus taught them, we avoid the allegorical interpretation. Other parables, such as that of the Good Samaritan (Lk 10:29-37), have in their transmission become example stories. As the message about Jesus was proclaimed in a non-Jewish culture, its second generation non-Jewish listeners were unfamiliar with the mean-ing of Samaritan, priest, and Levite. The parable became an exam-ple story, lessening the challenge of the original parable. We are not suggesting a single interpretation to the exclu-sion of all others, whether that interpretation is traditional or contemporary. The parable of the prodigal, for example, is fre-quently understood as a parable of God's mercy. As the First Week progresses, a retreatant may suggest to her director, as the result of her own understanding and experience, that she would like to spend some time during the First Week praying over The Prodigal as a parable of God's merciful love. The director must respect the retreatant's freedom and the gift of her prayer. In days to come in the retreat, as discretion suggests, the director can pro-pose the parable once again with a different interpretation drawn from modern parable study. Both interpretations are valid. Retreatants find two contributions of J. Dominic Crossan particularly helpful. First is the manner in which he has located the parables in Jesus' own experience. To a previous observation Review for Religious that parables move people to greater participation in the matter a parable illustrates, it is important to add that "Jesus' parables are radically constitutive of his own distinctive historicity, and all else is located in them" (Crossan, p. 33). They proclaim and they establish the historicity of Jesus' response to the kingdom. There is an intrinsic bond between Jesus' experience and his expression of that experience in parables. Parables are cause and not effect of what Jesus said and did (Crossan, p. 32). Retreatants find it very attractive to pray over the parables and thereby to enter into the experience of Jesus. Second, Crossan's classification of the various parables as expressions of the kingdom's temporality (as advent, as reversal, and as action) is most help-ful. As we'will see, the parables of reversal in particular have an important role to play in the Exercises. One final observation is important. For some few commentators, Crossan among them, the urgency of the para-bles is related to the ever present now of the kingdom. While it would be interesting to consider the range of scholarly opinions on the relation of the kingdom to the end time, it seems better to avoid the confusion which could result. One scholar, Donald Senior, has preserved the urgency of the parables without enter-ing into the controverted question of eschatology. He writes, "The kingdom may be future but the choice is now" (Senior, p. 93). The temporality of the kingdom in terms of advent, reversal, and action appears in two paradigmatic parables which model all three modes of the kingdom. "The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field" (Mr 13:44). "The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; onfinding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it" (Mr 13:45-46). The parables are simi-lar in structure, as revealed by the three verbs common to both. To unpack but one, in the parable of the treasure hidden in a field, we hear of a man whose nor.mal past-present-future is rudely but happily shattered. The future, which he has presumably planned and projected for himself, is totally invalidated by the finding (advent) of the treasure, which opens up new worlds and There is an intrinsic bond between Jesus' experience and his expression of that experience in parables. September- October 1998 Begley ¯ The Parables of Jesus and the I~natian Exercises unforeseen possibilities. In the force of this advent, he willingly reverses his entire past and acts to sell all that he has. From this advent and this reversal, he obtains the treasure that now dictates his future history in a most concrete way. It gives him a new life that he could not have planned for~himself and a new world in which to live this life (Crossan, p. 34). Advent parables are fewer than parables of reversal, ~which in turn are fewer than those of action. The frequency distribution probably reflects later tradition's needs rather than the frequency with which Jesus spoke them. Later generations experienced the advent of God in the paschal mystery of the death and resurrection of Jesus and so felt less need to preserve the parables of advent. Advent parables stress one or another of three themes: hid-denness and mystery, gift and surprise, discovery and joy. For example, in the sower and mustard-seed parables, there are sharp juxtapositions of two states. In The, Sower, three instances of sow-ing loss are contrasted with three instances of harvest gain. In The Mustard Seed the contrast is between the small seed sown and the ample shade of the fully grown plant. The parables are not concerned with growth but with miracle, "not the organic and biological development but the gift-like nature, the graciousness and surprise of the ordinary, the advent of the bountiful harvest despite the losses of sowing, the large shade despite the small seed. In these ways the kingdom is advent. It is surprise and it is gift" (Crossan, pp. 37-51, emphasis added). To turn now to the First Week of the Spiritual Exercises, con-temporary experience of both directors and retreatants under-scores the advent character of the First Week. It would be impossible to number the retreatants who have summed up their First Week experience by saying, "It is all gift." In whatever man-ner the topics Ignatius proposes for prayer are treated--topics such as sin and punishment in the history of the world and in the self, past and present--the result is not a self broken by sorrow and remorse, but rather a self healed and given new life and freedom. It is an experience of one's own sinfulness, to be sure, but it is much more an experience of God's love embracing me with all of my sinfulness. The darkness of my sinfulness is shattered by the brilliance of God's reconciling, healing love. The modern mind reading the Exercises understands Ignatius's "cry of wonder" (§60) to rise from the felt awareness of God's love as experienced in the wonder of creation, in the wondei" of Review for Religious others who have been sources of life for me, in the wonder of myself as gifted, graced, and loved. The retreatant realizes, in the phrase that has become a familiar experiential reality for those who have made at least the First Week of the Exercises, that she is a "loved sinner." Mthough memories of the past, or feelings of inadequacy, fear, or self-rejection may have gripped the retreatant, now the redemptive love of God has set the exercitant free, desirous of reordering her life more effectively "to the end for which we are created" (§23). At this point the retreatant has experi-enced what in Crossan's language is called advent. To the retreatant have been revealed the hiddenness and the mystery, the gift and surprise, the discovery and joy of the king-dom. One or another of all these parable themes describes the retreatant's experience as she concludes the First Week. What had remained hidden, the mystery of the self as loved by God, has been discovered with joy as the surprising gift of God's love. In the manner of the discovery of a pearl of great price--which cannot be explained by either the skill of the direc-tor, the dispositions of the retreatant, or natural psychological development--the retreatant experiences the sheer joy of one who is loved and affirmed in the depths of the self, not despite who one is but precisely as one is. This is the important meaning of the advent parables of Jesus, and the retreatant can profitably pray over them during the First Week. From the first meditation of the First Week, the retreatant's attention has been focused on the crucified Lord, whose love for-gives and frees. In his presence the retreatant has asked, "What ought I to do for Christ?" (§53). Having experienced advent, the retreatant is now in a position to consider what return she shall make to the Lord whose love has opened for her a new way of life, more abundant than she ever thought possible. The loved sinner desires to be a loving servant. The retreatant is ready for the Second Week, in which parables of reversal and action have an important part to play. These parables have. as their purpose "to effect a change in the hearer, to lead to decision or action" (Boucher, pp. 16-17). More To the retreatant have been revealed the hiddenness and the mystery, the gift and surprise, the discovery and joy of the kingdom. Septentber-October 1998 Begley ¯ The Parables of Jesus and the Ignatian Exercises dramatically but not less surely, the parables of reversal look to the situation where "the last becomes first and the first becomes last, We have a polar reversal, When the north pole becomes the south pole and the south the north,, a world is reversed and overturned" (Crossan, p. 55) The world that is meant here is the inner world of values, priorities, and motives. It is the inner world of atti-tudes, dispositions, habitual judgments, This reversal is very much what Ignatius proposes to the retreatant at this point in the Exercises. The readiness to turn my familiar world upside down is the necessary predisposition for a good election. Ignatius underscores this in his singularly important consid-eration on the Two Standards. In an introduction to this medita-tion (§135). Ignatius reminds us that the following of Christ in loving service admits of various degrees; the sincere following of the commandments, which has been considered in meditating on Jesus' obedience to his parents, and the state of evangelical per-fection, which was considered in the youthful Jesus remaining behind in the temple. Now the retreatant, while continuing to investigate his life, is to begin to consider and to pray for a knowl-edge of the kind of life to which the Lord summons her. In the Two Standards Ignatius asks the retreatant to imagine Christ mak-ing an address "to all his servants and friends whom he sends on this enterprise." In his address he reverses the strategy of his adversary, "the chief of all the enemy," who stands beneath the first standard. As Ignatius sums up what the retreatant is, to con-sider, he says, "Hence there will be three steps: the first, poverty as opposed to riches; the second, insults or contempt ~as opposed to the honor of this world; the third, humility as opposed to pi'ide (§146, emphasis added). The .colloquy that concludes the Two Standards meditation is to be repeated at the end of each of the five periods of prayer every day until the election has been made. This threefold collo-quy addressed first to Mary, then to her 'Son, and finally to the Father is for the grace to be received under his standard, where the disciple of Christ can expect to bear poverty and humiliations in imitation of him. In a note to the subsequent Meditation on Three Classes of Men, Ignatius advises the retreatant: "It should be noted that when we feel an attachment opposed to actual poverty or a repugnance to it. it will be very helpful in order to :overcome the inordinate attachment, even though corrupt nature rebel against it, to beg our Lord in the Colloquies to choose Review for Religqous us to serve him in actual poverty" (§ 157). As Ignatius makes clear, such a disposition does not come easily: "We should insist that we desire it, beg for it, plead for it, provided of course that it be for the service and praise of the DiVine Goodness" (§157). At the critical time of making a decision that will define the self in relation to the Lord, to others, and to the contingencies of experience, the parables of reversal will serve the retreatant's need very well. It is helpful to recall that the parables represent a call which is absolute (the kingdom cannot be subordinated to any other concern) and that this absolute call is not specific (as the command to love is not specified for each particular circumstance of human life). Indeed, it is the absolute but nonspecific nature of the call of Christ to "follow me" (here and now, or later?) that requires discernment in order to come to a properly ordered deci-sion. The absolute but nonspecific call of the parables is empha-sized in the Exercises as well. The call of Christ in the Meditation on the Kingdom is abso-lute: "Whoever wishes to join me in this enterprise must be will-ing to labor with me, that by following me in suffering he may follow me in glory" (§95.). However, the manner in which one "labors with me" is not specified. Ignatius, in the oblation which concludes the Kingdom, speaks of poverty, humiliatiqns, and humility, but ~does not specify the manner in which "those who wish to give greater proof of their love, and to distinguish them-selves in whatever concerns theservice of:~the eternal King" (§97), will incarnate the proof of their love. The specification is the goal of the retreat and requires the prayer and discernment of the retreatant. Second, the change in the "world" of the retreatant, which the First Week begins and the Second Week develops, is precisely the retreatant's world of values and judgments, of desires and priorities, of hopes and dreams. The parables of reversal chal-lenge this world of the retreatant, who, through the reciprocal process of praying the parables and "reflecting on myself," begins to investigate and ask in what kind or state of life God wishes to make use of me (§135). The retreatant enters into "the mind of Christ" (Ph 2:5) and prays to make his mind her own. The parables, which communi-cate the experience of Jesus and not conclusions or admonitions, assist the retreatant to enter into her own experience of the Kingdom and to draw from that experience her own way of life. To accept the parables and the experience they offer is to take on September-October 1998 Begley ¯ The Parables of Jesus and the Ignatian Exercises a new personal perspective, a new way of interpreting and valu-ing, of deciding and acting. In a word, the retreatant develops a different and more refined set of principles, insights, and critical judgments which can be termed a personal hermeneutic. It is to grow in faith. It is worthwhile to note that the theme of reversal is an essen-tial theme of the teaching of Jesus and of the parables. The beloved Good Samaritan parable (Lk 10:25-37) has tradition-ally been heard as an example of neighborliness. In the wake of Jeremias's study, commentators today suggest that the parable has been reconstructed in the course of transmission. The con-text (Jesus' conversation with a lawyer) and his concluding com-mand ("Go and do likewise," §37) have been provided by the early church and have to be removed from consideration if we are to .come closer to the parable as Jesus spoke it. At a distance both geographical and temporal from the world of Samaritans, priests, and Levites, the story lacked the immediacy that it had for the first listeners of Jesus, and this parable of reversal has been changed by the second-generation of Christians into an example story. Once the parable is allowed to stand on its own, it is no longer simply a story of the neighborliness that fulfills the law, but becomes a parable of reversaL Crc;ssan has brilliantly noted that, if the parable is primar-ily to provide an illustration of neighbor love or an indictment of heartless religious leaders, then help offered by a Jewish layperson would have made the proper point. The shock is that it is the Samaritan who stops. At the remove of centuries, it is easy for us to overlook the hatred that existed between Jews and Samaritans. During the period of the Exile, the Samaritans had intermarried with non-Jews, had opposed the restoration of the Jewish temple, and in the 2nd century B.C. had actually helped the Syrians in their wars against the Jews. The Jewish high priest had burned the Samaritan temple on Mount Gerizim, and the Samaritans had scattered the bones of a corpse in. the Jerusalem temple, thereby defiling it and making it impossible to celebrate Passover. The Samaritans did not accept the whole of the canon-ical Jewish Scriptures. They refused hospitality to Jesus and his disciples because they were on their way to Jerusalem (Lk 9:52- 53). The Jews believed they had insulted Jesus by calling him a Samaritan (Jn 4:7-10), and Jesus himself warned his disciples to avoid the Samaritan territory (Mt 10:5). Review for Religious The shock of the parable, calling for a reversal of attitudes on the part of its hearers, is that the one who helps the Jewish victim and fulfills the law is the enemy and religious apostate. The parable reverses our understanding of who God is and whom God approves. It destroys a narrow, legalistic under-standing of the law and reveals the hatred and divisions which had become institutionalized. The world of the lawyer and his fellow listeners is turned upside down. They are to speak the unspeakable; they are to join the apparent contradictories "good" and "Samaritan." Another parable of reversal that can be useful during the Second Week is that of the Prodigal Son. It is lengthy (Luke 15:11-32) and so well .known that we need not retell it here. In Crossan's interpretation the reversal is located in the presence of the prodigal at the banquet while his dutiful older brother is out-side pouting (Crossan, p. 75). Merely to state the reversal in this way is to grip the imagination of the retreatant. It calls for a rever-sal of mind and heart that must be prayed over until it is interi-orized and can then move the retreatant toward her election/decision with gratitude and enthusiasm. Another approach to the Prodigal Son (Donahue, pp. 151- 157) may be even more helpful to the retreatant. Here the rever-sal is in our understanding, of what constitutes a relationship to God. Both sons define sonship in terms of servile obligation: "Treat me as one of your hired servants," says the younger son; "I have slaved for you," says his older brother. Each in his own way destroys the family. "As the younger son felt that the way~ to restore the severed relationship was to become a servant, the older brother maintained it by acting as a servant. Between the dutiful son and the prodigal is a bond much deeper than is visible on the surface . A relationship . . . worked out in terms of servility leads to destruction. The relationship as redefined by the father leads to joy" (Donahue, p. 157). Some women may find it difficult to pray with the images of "father" and "sons." Sandra Schneiders has captured the power of the parable from a feminist perspective: "Jesus' parable about the father actually constitutes a radical challenge to patriarchy. The divine father who has been understood as the ultimate justification of human patriarchy is revealed as the one who refuses to own us, demand our submission, or punish our rebellion. Rather, God is the one who respects our freedom, mourns our alienation, waits Septentber-October 1998 Begley * The Parables of yesus and the Ignatian Exercises patiently for our return, and accepts our love as pure gift" (cited by Donahue, pp. 161-162). The parable conveys the essential mindset for understanding discipleship and for making the decision that leads to more faith-ful discipleship. Crossan has expressed it perfectly in his discus-sion of the primary issue between Jesus and the Pharisees: "Obedience does not lead to God, God leads one to obedience" (Crossan, p. 80). The Two Standards! Ignatius focuses the retreatant's attention upon the activity of the poor and humble Christ, and so the prayerful consideration of the action parables may be somewhat less necessary than those of advent and reversal. The action parables, though, do portray cru-cial or critical situations that demand prompt and energetic deci-sion, firm and resolute action, that are very much in line with retreat purposes. They summon us to commit ourselves in response to the advent of the kingdom regardless of the reversal they demand, and so they, can prove helpful in the later days of the Second Week. They reflect the situation of the retreatant as she moves towards free self-disposition in response to her experience of the advent of the kingdom. Parables of action portray three different responses to the urgency of action (Crossan, pp. 84-85). As examples of one response (see the parable of the friend at mid-night [Lk 11:58] or the unjust judge [Lk 18:2-5]), we meet persons who accept the inevitability of what must be done and take action. In other parables (for example, the rich fool in Lk 13:16-20), the person fails to recognize the urgency of the situation and so fails to act. A third set of action parables (for example, the bridesmaids, Mt 25:1-13) describes those who respond adequately and those who do not. These parables of Jesus can effectively move the retreatant to overcome her natural hesitancy to choose what is beyond the strength of her own resources: to choose, with faith in the advent of the kingdom within her, what "would be more for his praise and glory" (§180). The explanation of the relationship between the parables of Jesus and the Ignatian Exercises has been long. A director may well question the advisability of proposing such an explanation when Ignatius expects the director to "adhere to the points, and add only.a short or summary explanation., for it is not much knowledge that fills and satisfies the soul, but the intimate under-standing and relish of the truth" (§2). Despite the length of this article's explanation, experience has shown that it is possible to l~eview for Religio~a give retreatants a "summary explanation." Retreatants easily grasp the primary idea of the different parables, are comfortable with the understanding proposed, and experience an unexpected delight in praying the parables of Jesus. A Selection of Parables Advent parables: The leaven, Mt 13:20-21; the sower, Mk 4:3- 8; the mustard seed, Mt 4:30-32; the lost sheep, Mt 18:12-13; the lost coin, Lk 15:8-9. Reversal parables: The Good Samaritan, Lk 10:30-37; The Prodigal Son, Lk 15:11-32; the rich man and Lazarus, Lk 16:19- 31; the Pharisee and the tax collector, Lk 18:9-14; the wedding guest, Lk 14:1-24; the great supper, Mt 22:1-14; the sheep and the goats, Mt 25:31-46. Action parables: the wicked husbandmen, Mk 12:1-,12); the doorkeeper, Mk 13:33-37; the talents, Mt 25:14-3 O; the unmerciful servant, Mt 18:23-38; the unjust steward, Lk 16:1-7; the workers in the vineyard, Mt 20:1-16. Bibliography Boucher, Madeleine I. The Parables. Wilmington: Michael Glazier, 1981. Brown, Raymond E. An Introduction to the New Testament. New York: Doubleday, 1997. Crossan, John Dominic. In Parables. New York: Harper and Row, 1970. Donahue, John R. The Gospel in Parable. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1988. Fleming, David L. The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius: A Literal Translation and a Contemporary Reading. St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1978. Henog, William R. Parables as Subversive Speech. Louisville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1994. Jeremias, Joachim. Rediscovering the Parables. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1989. Puhl, Louis J. (trans.). The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius. Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1951. Senior, Donald. Jesus: A Gospel Portrait, 2nd ed. Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1991. September-October 1998 ANITA J. BALY St. Ignatius and My Piano One of the best things I got out of making the thirty-day Spiritual Exercises was learning I could play the piano. That is not all that I experienced in the long retreat, by any means. And Idid not know I was taking away that particular fruit when the retreat ended. At a distance of two years, however, I sense that that.gift of musical empowerment is closely linked with my spiritual journey. What would St. Ignatius think of my response to his Exercises? Would palm slap forehead in pained frustration at my lack of com-prehension? Would he laugh--or cry? Would he sharply insist that I had trivialized the meaning of his work--and knew it? Would he smile ever so slightly and nod approval? I would not presume to read back into the saint's mind. I am even clueless as to how oth-ers who have completed the Exercises would react. In the silent and solitary conduct of the Exercises, it is impos-sible to know for sure what other retreatants derive. One can make some guesses based on body language and apparent changes, but there is no way to check out assumptions orhlly. At the con-clusion of my retreat, half a dozen of us retreatants sat and tried to share with one another what had occurred for us. What impressed me that evening was how different the perceived fruits seemed to be for each participant! It was also pleasing to see how diverse outcomes seemed to comport with the Exercises. Anita J. Baly JD, MDiv, PhD, is interim pastor of the Lutheran Church of Our Saviour and an adjunct faculty member in theology at Union Theological Seminary in Virginia and the Presbyterian School of Christian Education. Her address is 3001 Libby Terrace; Richmond, Virginia 23223. Review for Religious The Spiritual Exercises are not a map that points in only one direction via a single route. The end desired is surely the same for all Christians: that we grow continually in faithfulness to the Lord's person and work, approaching more and more the fullness of the fruits of the Spirit; that we grow in the capacity to attain, relish, and express the love of God. Or, as St. Paul says so suc-cinctly: the end (telos) the Christian seeks is "eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Rm 6:22-23).~ The means to achieving that end, however, clearly differ according to God-given differences in per-sonalities, capacities, and experiences. No means are excluded automatically since "all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose" (Rm 8:28). The Exercises affirm, support, and foster individual wrestling with God's individual graces, to attain the end that is at once universal and also particular. The Exercises, that is, attune to the fact that the Spirit blows how, as, and where it wills. Each exercitant's task is to meet that universal Spirit in the exact par-ticularity of who he or she really is. Were this not to occur, the positive effects of the Exercises in fostering "the salvation of souls and their spiritual profit" would likely be severely limited.2 Theologically this makes sense: incarnation is God's presence and manifestation only in what is really there. God does not meet us inthe past, in the future, or in the way we wish things were. Incarnation means that God meets us precisely here, immediately now. It is, I believe, out of respect for God's ways of working dif-ferendy with different individuals that St. Ignatius urges the direc-tor to be brief in explaining the meditations and contemplations (§2). The saint seems to find it acceptable that exercitants work out much of the matter of the Exercises alone, with God's help. In this way, inevitably, exercitants will surely miss some details and fine points. Ignatius's sense of the compensation for this loss is clear. He says: "It is not in knowing much, but realizing and rel-ishing things interiorly, that contents and satisfies the soul" (§2). My own journey with the Exercises involved the discovery that I could play the piano. As I see it, that was not just a nice My own journey with the Exercises involved the discovery that I could play the piano. September- October 1998 Baly ¯ St. Ignatius and My Piano thing--though it is wonderful! Studying piano has actually become a major support of my continuing spiritual journey. It was a dis-covery I in no way sought, envisioned, or wanted. It came about in response to the circumstances of my long retreat. I made the Exercises at one of the large houses that groups retreatants together with multiple outside directors for one or a few events each year) Our group of retreatants and directors numbered close to seventy people, with an overall director who is a musician. He wanted music provided for the daily liturgies and asked for vol-unteer music leaders. Although there were one or two profes-sional- quality musicians among the group, they, understandably, wanted to retreat from musical production. That left canvassing the rest of us for volunteers, and five or six of us agreed to "do something" according to our capacities. In my case that was to mean simply leading hymns and responses and functioning as a cantor. I could sing and read music, but I played no instruments. As the retreat went on, the strain of producing coordinated music in an atmosphere of total silence showed on some of the original musical volunteers, who quit. That left fewer of us respon-sible for more liturgies. So I was providing music leadership to liturgies every few days with nothing but voice--and boring myself. Besides that, the various celebrants wanted different set-tihgs of liturgical responses. In order to be able to lead those, I had to try to hear them. In the silence, no one could sing them to me beforehand. There was, however, a brief daily period when all retreatants had access to the lone piano. I managed to find the notes to plunk out the melody lines of responses. I knew where the notes were on the keyboard from years of finding singing melodies with a one-finger, hunt-and-peck .method. It was, however, a sort of desperation for variety and for beauty that prompted me to take the next step. I finally made a few attempts to play a melody line under a hymn or two and once even attempted to play something as postcommunion meditation music. Those attempts resulted in poor music that did not enhance the services, in my opinion, and embarrassed me. I suppose I would have quit trying and that would have been the end of it, were it not for the movements of a few people there. One of the directors saw my embarrassment at the poverty of my tries at accompaniment. He managed to honor that pain by helping me try again in a safer way. And, when the retreat ended and we could speak, I learned that a few of the retreatants actually assumed I was Review for Religious a professional music minister! I suppose it was that small amount of affirmation and the serendipitous discovery of pleasure in a new "skill" that prompted me to continue. Once home, I had access to a piano--through the grace of two other friends. For a year I tinkered with that piano on my own, trying to teach myself, sensing in some vague way that for me the piano was a way of continuing to connect with the graces of the retreat. A year after the retreat, I began taking formal lessons. Those have now con-tinued for over a year. The piano is one among those created things that Ignatius would urge using or discarding according to its effect--for the individual pianist--in fostering or detracting from the praise, rev-erence, and service of God (§23). Music can be perverted in var-ious ways. Of itself, though, it does seem to enjoy divine approbation. The Bible in many places, especially in the Psalms, enjoins us to sing to the Lord, to make a joyful noise, to praise our God with timbrel and trumpet, voice, dance--and strings.4 Why would music be so privileged? Maybe God just likes music. That is, the use of music for religious expressions may be linked to something in God's being. Maybe music is special because it is always a common expression, a community endeavor. Even solitary composers or musicians do not invent their instru-ments. Neither do they create the musical notes and their fun-damental relationships--though composers group in "new" ways and patterns the notes and chords they have .been given. The musical givens are built right into~the world. One who discovers them is in dialogue with God the Creator. Because I only play the piano, and do not compose music for it, I dialogue with the Creator about music at one remove. My communion with the composer provides a way for me to make my musical connection with the Directing Source. When I attend faithfully to playing that music as it is written down, I know something too of God's conducting. That faithful attempt to connect with the composer's aural "vision" helps me understand and even "hear" that my studying and playing piano is connected also with my spiritual journey. For me, both praying and piano playing seem more satisfying and closer to hitting the mark when I approach them with a certain kind of discipline. Ignatius illuminates the fact that successful meditation involves the integration of memory, reason, will, and feelings (§50). And the good progress of the Exercises seems to verify that pro- September-October 1998 Baly ¯ St. Ignatius and My Piano found insight. To me, it proves the saint was truly a spiritual genius, As one who .once scored a hundred percent on the feeling compo-nent of the Myers-Briggs Preference Test, my psyche is perpetually on the edge of drowning in emotion. Besides that, my imagination is so strong that I could almost live in it. Now, imagination and feeling are essential for getting through the Exercises. It is difficult to see how an Application of the Senses meditation, for example, could progress without them (§123). The same is true for music. Without feeling, it is lifeless and powerless. Imaginative hearing certainly helps in the process of learning music. Feeling and imagination are good things in moderation. As an extreme "feeler" and "imaginer," however, I cleave to the Ignatian system because of the constant pressure it exerts on me to think and to perceive what is actually there in the world. Overly enthu-siastic thinkers and sensers probably value the Ignatian system for the opposite reason: the pressure it exerts on them to feel and to imagine. One of the supreme marvels of Ignatius's method is the way it teaches, inculcates, presumes, and honors balance. Such balance and integration are often difficult, to keep up in daily life. They are particularly hard to sustain at times of stress when the temptation is to fall back into the ways of reacting that are most automatic and comfortable for us. Our customary responses may be too lopsided to be effective--or holy. It is aware-ness followed by practice, building habits of mind and heart, that can help us to redirect our responses away from the habitual and into more prudent directions. The practice of Ignatian prayer helps with this. In a very similar way, the study of piano also teaches me to strive for balanced, integrated responses. Playing piano, like praying in the lgnatian.mode, requires using memory to aid the intellect, engaging the will in the endeavor, and aligning feelings with the will. My teacher, thus, emphasizes for me the importance of learning chord relationships and learning and remembering proper fingering. In this way my memory assists my reasoning about how to play a new piece of music. And only when my will controls my~ feelings can I keep my enthusiasm from ruining the dynamics and phrasing of com-positions. For me it is truly useful discipline to have to count continuously, thereby exercising a form of reason. My teacher also patiently reminds me that I must play the piece as it is writ-ten-- not as I may prefer or wish it to be, nor as I would find it easier to play. Those reminders are echoes of incarnation! When Review for Religious I lose the balance and proper relationship of memory, reason, will, and feelings, the pieces do not sound right. They cease to please the ear. In a profound sense they are no longer "good." In turn, that reminds me that, when I lose the balance in my spiri-tual life, it too is swerving from the best direction. One particular place where Ignatius urges balance and indif-ference is in making an election (§179). The single criterion of election is that a given alternative seems to lead more to the glory and praise of God and to the salvation of one's soul. The ideal choice, thus, is very pure and very disciplined. In a similar way, the best choice in playing music will be to put aside any personal inclinations or biases or even technical insufficiencies. The goal is to play the piece as near as possible to the composer's intention. The search for that intention can be like discerning the will of God. Sometimes neither the one nor the other is apparent on the surface. It is in both cases openness, dialogue, respect, fidelity, and persistence that create the atmosphere in which disclosure becomes more likely. Within all the balance and indifference in prayerful elections, however, it does seem that reason takes primacy (§ 182). Ignatius seems almost to anticipate the Kantian ethical principle about acting in ways that would please you if they became universal law. The saint counsels us to imagine advising an unknown person whose sanctification we desire, within the context of our own sense of what best conduces to God's glory. Having determined that advice, we are ourselves to follow it (§185). So too in music, where it is hard to imagine advising anyone to play a work other than as it is written. Once reason has helped us to know the goal for living well or for playing music well, the honorable course is to set about engaging the other parts of the personality to col-laborate in moving to this end, and in practicing and honing needed skills for doing so. Relaxation and trust enhance both instrumental playing and prayer. At a recent lesson, my piano teacher watched and heard me struggle through a work white-knuckled, tight-shouldered, gri-macing, and gritting my teeth. She then inquired, sweedy, whether I found it easier to play tense or relaxed. That reminded me of the priest at my last directed retreat who kept urging me to pray in Imaginative hearing certainly helps in the process of learning music. Septentber-October 1998 Baly ¯ St. Ignatius and My Piano peace and serenity--until I finally did. Tension and trying to retain control do not facilitate progress in either prayer or piano. Humility certainly helps in both spheres. Ignatius specifically counsels cultivating the attitude of humility at those times we contemplate our sins. He says that we are then to "lessen" our-selves via various imaginative comparisons (§58). The whole envi-ronment of the Exercises, moreover, induces humility. Much in the system cooperates to encourage the exercitant to esteem God's control and another's direction over what comes from the self alone. For me the Exercises went best at those times when I was most teachable and directable. The same is true of piano study: I play better by attuning to what is there musically and to the teacher. Playing the piano and praying are complementary processes that call on remarkably similar skills. As I hone technique in one area, I also seem to position myself for advancement in the other activity. A kind of cross-leavening seems to occur. As I attend con-sciously to what happens, it seems as though piano learnings tend to foster px:ayer learnings, not vice versa. I think that is because progress in piano happens in an external realm where any who wish may hear, measure, compare, iudge, criticize, and so forth. The no-less-real results of prayer exist in' an internal sphere fully accessible neither to others nor even to myself. Whatever helps someone to understand more of what occurs in personal prayer and to be able to communicate that has to be a boon to progress in prayer. Piano does those things for me. Piano also intimates to me and gives me the hope that King Hezekiah expressed: "The Lord will save me, and we will sing to my stringed instruments all the days of our lives, at the house of the Lord" (Is 38:20). Notes 1 Scriptural citations are from the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible. 2 The quoted words are from the Papal Approbation of St. Ignatius' Spiritual Exercises in 1548, as given in David L. Fleming SJ, The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius: A Literal Translation and a Contemporary Reading (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1978), p. xxiii. Other citations (§) are standard paragraph numberings used in this and other modern trans-lations of the Exercises. 3 Jesuit Retreat House, Los Altos, California. 4 Psalms 33, 68, 81, 92,144, 149, and 150 all direct the use of musi-cal instruments in praising God. Review for Religious JOSEPH A. TETLOW The Experience of God in Consecrated Life during the 20th Century In this article I try to describe the experience of God, not to prescribe for it. I begin, first, with the meanings of the terms spirituality and religion and the content of the term experi-ence. Second, I characterize modern times just before Vatican Council II under three headings: aggressive realism, methodi-cal universalism, and rugged individualism. I do this because modernity has marked consecrated life deeply and in some mea-sure still marks it, and because, when conservatives talk about the past, this is the past they mean. Third, about the council, I note only that the reform of church structures and the renewal of consecrated life brought out deep problems with authority and with our concept of the self. Finally, coming to today, I urge that we can appreciate consecrated life well in terms of the postmodern understanding of experience as constructed, derivative, intentional, and dialogic. I hope these somewhat scattered theoretical points will deepen our reflection on what the experience of God has been in consecrated life during the cen-tury that is now ending. Spirituality. For us spirituality means the experience of God in Christ. For others it means other things. The Communist government of China, for instance, has begun Joseph A. Tetlow SJ makes available here a talk that he pre-sented in Rome at a workshop attended by members of the union of major superiors of men religious; it retains something of that provenance. No newcomer to these pages, he is director of the Secretariat for Ignatian Spirituality; C.P. 6139; 00195 Roma Prati; Italy. consecrated life September-October 1998 Tetlow ¯ The Experience o[ God in Consecrated Life promoting what it calls a "spiritual civilization." Alcoholics Anonymous acknowledges only a "Higher Power" but has a spir-ituality. So has the New Age pseudo-philosophy. In this article the word spirituality is used in none of those vague senses. Here it means the experience of God in Christ, always incarnated in a tradition of prayer and interior discipline.~ A spiritual life, consequently,is the ongoing, cherished, fos-tered experience of God in Christ in one of the great consecrated-life traditions.2 Shifting "from the former stress on the rational to the experiential," serious theologians now recount "the in-break-ing God of personal experience.''3 Karl Rahner, certainly a spec-ulative theologian, was deeply stirred by Ignatius's conviction "that he had in fact experienced God directly and that others may do so as well.''4 Rahner wrote many prayers like this one.- "Thanks to your mercy, O infinite God, I know somethingabout you not only through concepts and words, but through experience . Yes, really you yourself, not just a concept of you, not just the name which we ourselves have given you.''5 John of the Cross experienced God, not an idea or a poem, and so did Don Bosco, St. Benedict, the author of the Cloud. Each experienced God in the specific way God chose~ All those who follow each of them adopt the perspectives, perceptions, and values of their masters, desiring and determined to know God as their tradition knows God. This is what we mean by spirituality. It differs from religion. Religion. Religion is the experience of creed, code, cultus, and culture and, in and through these creatures, the experience of God. Hinduism; Buddhism, Islam, even animism yield the expe-rience of God in the experience of creed, code, cultus, and cul-ture. 6 Islam, for instance, holds faith in Allah and in the prophet Mohammed, follows a moralistic code, practices cultus six times a day and a month each year, and has spread into a vast poly-morphous culture. Each Muslim experiences these creatures directly and, in them, God. The "ordinary Christian" who spent three hours worshiping in St. Peter's Square on Palm Sunday felt the presence of God in the liturgy. True, many ordinary Christians may have momentary "mystical experiences"; Andrew Greeley reported in one survey that perhaps eight in ten American Catholics have had such experiences, and we have no reason to think Americans more mystical than any other people. But those "mystical experiences" come as a surprise, for religious people Review for Religious experience God indirectly, through the created creed, code, cul-tus, and culture in their everyday lives. Religious leaders need to note two points connected with this: first, about the apostolate. The people we serve, the "millions in the middle," in Cardinal Joseph Bernardin's phrase, experience God in and through their religion. When the powerful or the super-spiritual despise these people's religion, the people suffer; for their special experience of God seems despised and degraded. Perhaps the church harmed them inadver-tently when it swiftly and almost wordlessly dismantled the liturgi-cal use of Latin and quotidian laws about fasting and communion on the tongue, Yet for centuries the church had called the full, whole-hearted living of religion, just reli-gion, "spirituality." Only a few centuries ago did theologians begin using the word spirituality for the life lived by an active, dedicated, religious elite, and only in the last two centuries did theologians begin separating the experience we call spirituality from the experience we call religion. We who find ourselves in this "elite" run the risk of so raising up spirituality as to depreciate religion. This is wrongheaded. The second thing superiors might note here concerns our own congregational lives. Are there not men in every congrega-tion who live the charism in wholehearted ways and yet cannot say they know God? We all know men who have pictures of the Holy Father, of saints and holy places, all over their rooms and offices. Perhaps they are living religion--creed, code, cultus, and cul-ture- as religion is embodied in a congregation's way of life, with all its pious practices. (Somebne told about a man who was watch-ing television and reading his breviary during the commercial breaks. He explained that Jesus had instructed us to "watch and pray.") Above all, perhaps we should consider whether the strongly conservative among us may live their interior lives in this way of religion. How do they experience God? Experience. Our topic is experience. As everyone does today, I have been talking about experience as though we all mean the same thing. But we do not. Some say experience includes just what Only in the last two centuries did theologians begin separating the experience we call spirituality from the experience we call religion. September-October 1998 Tetlow ¯ The Experience of God in Consecrated Life happens; some, that experience includes only what I am conscious of happening; some tinsist that human experience always includes language. Every one of. us, also, varies what he includes in the term. What does our topic mean, "The experience of God in con-secrated life"? Obviously, we cannot work out a perfect descrip-tion of experience here and now. Also obviously, we are probably not going to talk about it the way "scientific" philosophers talk about it. We are going to talk about experience, most likely, as Vita consecrata does.7 Perhaps, though, we need to notice, on a slightly theoretica,1 plane, that today people regularly talk about experience by using seven categories. A sort of common philosophy holds that each and every experience unfolds in seven dialogically inter-related elements: context, perspective, perception, value, desire, decision, and habit. We tend to think that any and every experi-ence is adequately described when each of these elements is accounted fo~, both in itself and in its relationship with each of the other elements. So, biographers get the concrete details of their subjects' time and place and recount how their context shaped their perspectives, how their values shaped their perceptions, and so on. Scripture scholars try to recapture the context of Jesus' life and the perspectives, perceptions, and values with which his context would have imbued him. When we look at a man's expe-rience to see whether he has the capacity to govern, we weigh his decisions and hal6its, how he perceives, what he values. Things like these constitute our view of his experience. So, at least for now, let that stand for what experience is. The description is hardly .satisfactory, so why did I raise the question? For two reasons. Fil:st, we whose main task is listening to .others must keep in mind that there is no such thing as a naive appeal to experience. The man who says, "Well, my experience tells me such-and-such" has not ended discussion, but just begun it. As philosophical theologiaJ~ John Smith argues, every appeal "carries with it a theory of experience, some principle indicating what expe-rience is and how much it is supposed to contain.''8 Conflicts between superiors and consecrated men, between individuals and their communities, commonly grow from different appreciations of experience. The second reason we need to be aware of the con-tent of experience is that the teaching church is changing its approach to experience, but is no more consistent than any of us in what content it puts into the word. Review for Religious Now let me turn to the three topics I mean to open: the pre-conciliar and modern, the council, and the postconciliar or post-modern. Preconciliar and Modern Times I begin with a story. In 1947 a young man of sixteen boarded a train on his way to a novitiate. Answering the questions of the novice-master, his back straight and shoulders squared, he explained his call. He felt drawn to a military life (his father had sent him to a military school). But he thumped the oak arm of his chair--absolutely, God wanted him to be a religious and a priest. Fifty years later, he remains both. The year 1947 came in the evening of modern times. What is modernity? How had it affected our experience of God in Christ? Intellectual historians generally concur on certain qualifies. Albert Borgmann, for instance, identifies as marks of modernity an aggressive realism (we experiment to know and we intend to con-trol life and nature with our knowledge); methodical universalism (any empirically established truth is true in every realm and in any culture); and rugged individualism (the person comes to be over against the community). Aggressive Realism. In the 1950s we perceived the modern uni-verse, unlike the medieval Christian cosmos, as impersonal and governed by regular laws that had to be understood mathemati-cally. We felt free to tear out forests, dig up mountains, and blow a hole in the earth's atmosphere. As we grew absorbed in this aggressive realism, in Richard Tarnas's words, "God was now dis-tantly removed from the physical universe, as creator and archi-tect, and was now less a God of love, miracle, redemption, or historical intervention than a supreme intelligence and first cause.''9 1 have the clearest recollection from the early 1950s of being instructed by a spiritual book written by a Frenchman and translated by a North American to turn at the end of a period of prayer and with whole heart and great fervor pray to "my First Cause." 10 This kind of realism seriously trammeled our experience of God, in part because that realism was magnified by a centuries-long failure in the church to develop anything like an adequate theology of creation,~ as John Courtney Murray argued in his book, The Problem of God. In modern times we spoke about God's Septonber-October 1998 Tetlow ¯ The Experience of God in Consecrated Life providence or God's will, both exercised, in some measure, in dis-tans. But we had lost the strong sense of God continually, con-stantly creating us and personally calling us.~2 Most religious are still surprised and delighted to hear that we are in an intimate relationship with God the ongoing Creator. In truth, our God had some of the aspects of the rationalists' Great Watchmaker who created the earth and spun it off to do its own work. Notice that the experience of God in consecrated life in the West has been countercultural and is an important gift to the Western church, as Vita consecrata points OUt.13 It also has to be the source of a renewed theology of creation for the church (one thinks of Teilhard de Chardin). Rugged Individualism. Just a century ago the West gave scien-tific sanction to individualism in social Darwinism's "survival of the fittest." So the powerful grabbed oil, railroad lands, monopolies in finance, and so on; the less than powerful were taught to blame themselves. Between Vatican Councils I and II, between the first automobile and the first manned space vehicle, the socioeconomic program of the West, in Roberto Mangabeira Unger's words, was "to turn all society into a world of patrons and clients.''~4 Furthermore, this was certainly the methodical program of the Communist elites (only six percent of China's population) and arguably the established program of the rest of the world. Princes and rich landowners lavished patronage; their clients begged help. Colonial powers favored a native elite (that now rules seventy-five new nations); the natives depended on them. Bosses ruled "their" workers; bishops had "their" priests; religious superiors had "their" subjects. All these were "clients," including the reli-gious, who leaned on (the Indo-European root of "client" is klei, to incline to or lean on). their superiors. This patron/client relationship flourished in the church, which Catholics were taught to conceive of as a "perfect" society, that.is, a visible society fully equipped for its purposes with autonomous rights and resources, with powers of jurisdiction, legislation, and administration, and, in words of Pius XlI in Mystici Corporis, a society lifted "above the whole natural order [by] the Spirit of the Redeemer, who., penetrates every part of the church's being and is active within it.''~s We religious exhorted one another to dependence on our superiors. I do not speak critically here. We must empathize with this earlier perspective on authority. Authority was felt to be, in itself, profoundly benevolent to the Review for Religious subject, creative, and ultimately successful in making people what God wished them to be, Modern people simply did what they were told by superiors, and if some of them acted immorally-- remember Eichmann--many others flourished under good lead-ership. And tens of thousands of consecrated men lived holy and productive lives by doing what they were told. It was in this con-text that a young man (just like the one who took that train in 1947), when told .by his master of novices to tie his hands to his bedstead to avoid nocturnal pollution, at first obeyed confidently. I say "at first," for there was a shadow side to this embrace of authority. As Donald Gelpi has written, "submission of one's own will to a superior [was] subtly trans-formed from a means into an end in itself." 16 The religious subjects had an. easy way to personal holiness, and, superiors could ask them to be instruments of our congregations, instruments, we confidently believed, in God's hands. Very commonly it is this instrumentalism that conservatives yearn to recapture. One man said as much to me as he was planning a par-ticularly egregious action against some liberal Christians: "I just want to be a hammer in God's hands." What did he think he is? Who had responsibility for his harmful activities? Authority, and its instruments, were experienced as univer-sally valid until the very late stages of modernism. This century's experiences--the Holocaust, the Soviet Union's Gulag, Idi Amin, My Lai, terrorism, governmental lying, the totalitarian habit of "disappearing" people---have changed our appreciation of author-ity. In earlier modernity it was perceived as benevolent; at moder-nity's end, it has come to be perceived as malevolent or at best deeply ambiguous. Even consecrated men may nowadays won-der, at a letter from superiors, What do they want now? At the end of modernity, as Hannah Arendt argued, we have to study what authority once was to come to any realistic appreciation of it. This situation is, in part, the fruit of rugged individualism. Methodical Universalism. If the secular world gladly embraced empiricism as a universal method, the church embraced scholas- We had lost the strong sense of God continually, constantly creating us and persona, lly calling us. Septentber-October 1998 Tetlow ¯ The Experience of God in Consecrated Life ticism as gladly. Before Vatican II, the teaching church was insist-ing on a unique philosopbia perennis, a single intellectual approach to meaning in human life. This insistence expressed a methodical universalism; it belonged more to modernity than to revelation. Scientists rigidly adhered to what they considered induction; Catholics rigidly adhered to deduction. One reviewer in 1949 called a masterwork by Garrigou-Lagrange "an outstanding exam-ple of the ability of a master scientist to draw a whole system of practical conclusions from a single principle.''17 The book was The Three Ages of the Interior Life, and the reviewer resonated with the book's methodical universalism.18 Integral to that methodical universalism was the firm con-viction that nature had an intrinsic order, put there by God and functioning flawlessly. Unaided reason could perceive this order with certitude (one of my philosophy professors liked to cite the Letter to the Romans). This modern trust in reason unrelated to God'.s "ongoing revelation transmuted the church's philosophical commitment to a "natural law." The trust in reason and law affected consecrated life, too: "Keep the rule, and the rule will keep you." As the 20th century progressed, we learned that nature ordered itself by evolution--having been so created by God at the time of the Big Bang. Catholics were quicker than most to accept that scientific theory as fact. Then we learned also that each person evolves, comes to be, grows, from some interior prin-ciple. The combination, grew to an insistence on "authenticity." Hence, as one author summarized the development, "in contrast with the medieval Christian worldview, modern man's indepen-dence- intellectual, psychological, spiritual--was radically affirmed, with increasing depreciation of any religious belief or institutional structure that would inhibit man's natural right and potential for existential autonomy and individual self-expres-sion." 19 He has caught most of the shibboleths of the 1960s, the pseudo-ideas, the decaying core convictions of modernity: inde-pendence, radical, institutional, structures, natural right, auton-omy, self-expression. These are the "plastic words" that many of us used when pushing far in the conciliar reforms.2° Vatican II and the Return to Roots Here is another story. Around 1967 a man from a religious com-munity made a workshop-retreat. He had been busy running a college Review for Religious and raising funds; he had never made a directed retreat or listened to one of the well'known spiritual gums. About a month a#er his expe-rience, he told another man in his community that the retreat had been powerful. He had never known, really known, that God accepts him, that God loves him as he is. He wept as he recounted the experience. In complex and varying ways, modernity had shaped the con-secrated life before Vatican II. Now we were called by the great decree Petfectae caritatis to return to our roots, to leave nature alone for a w, hile and go back to history. We needed to re-create our communities, an immensely conse-quential effort, which meant recovering ¯ our history. Some of us found that our communities were hardly living our full histories. I was astonished, for instance, to find out that St. Ignatius Loyola did not found the Society of Jesus all alone, but led a committee of friends in the Lord. to found the Company. (I have never been sure what that committee tells us about Jesuits.) One of the great consequences was a deep shift in leadership style from hierar-chical power to discerning authority, a genuinely splendid achieve-ment. Superiors decided that they were called, in Ann Ida Gannon's bold phrase, "for the service of [their] fellow religious.''~ They learned to be servant-leaders, adopting a leadership style that rejects power and governs by authority. So we began to reha-bilitate authority, and to reconnect the modern individualist to the community. Authority, which humankind always needs, is the ability so to arrange a lifeworld that those served by authority desire in great freedom to follow its decisions. Fully exercised, leadership by authority elicits and empowers the authority of every individual. For in its roots--note the Latin nounauct0r (originator, doer, author) and verb augere (increase)~authority names a human per-son's self-actualization and growth, which cannot happen to a person except in connection with a community. We need to pur-sue a difficult notion here: the concept of the self. Under the weight of modern individualism, we came to think of the self as isolated, estranged--all those anguishes of existentialism. We came to appreciate the self as having no extension, independent Fully exercised, leadership by authority elicits and empowers the authority of every individual. Septentber-October 1998 Tetlow ¯ The Experience of God in Consecrated Life not only of our bodies but even of our experiences. We have all heard people say that they can "use their experience," as though it were a computer program. We have heard that a woman "has a right over her own body" as though it were something like a suit-case. Charles Taylor summarized all this as "the punctiliar self.''22 The self has become like a little point floating through our life-world, our own life history, our experiences, convictions, body parts. For our topic, the important thing to notice is that, when the conciliar renewal arrived, we were all thinking of the self detached from our own experience and over against the commu-nity. When one of us said "I personally think." he really meant "I individually think"--that is, over against the rest of society. For person had come to mean individual and had been cut off from society. Only during postmodernity, with its search for commu-nity, did we recover the truth that no human person can exist apart from the human community. We are not angels. We might note one final rather abstruse but intensely conse-quential point. The modern concept of self, split off in Catholic life from any adequate theology of ongoing creation, let us conceive of our autonomy as almost divine. That concept entailed both the "denial of death" that philosophers have noted in some cultures and also an attempt at repudiating creaturehood. Thus, many could retract their permanent commitments and their priestly vows: "It was not my true self." At the beginning of this century, theolo-gians wrote of a triad: God, man, and creatures. Listen to the incompleteness of the modernist expression in Canon Four of the Roman Missal: "You have created man and set him over all crea-tures." Not "over all other creatures"; just "over all creatures." After the council we in consecrated life once again began to hear all other creatures "speak to us in 'their own right," and it is not an accident that consecrated men and women have been leading the so-called "ecological spirituality" movement.23 Postmodernism and Expe~ience A thirdstory. In 1987 more thanfifty men from oneprovince made a retreat together. They listened to briefpresentations during the day and prayed in silence. In the evenings they sat around and talked about themselves: How did I get my vocation, what was the hardest obedience I ever faced, where has the cross been in my life? Each said what he wished to say, the young and the 6ld; no one answered another; no one Review for Religious was forced to speak. Ten years later the men still remember that expe-rience. It drew them into communion. They even found out that they liked one another. Describing postmodernity is like describing where you are in a vast desert. There are markers, of course; but they are very hard to discern. I particularly like a triad developed by philosopher Albert Borgmann, whom I have already cited: "For each of the modern principles a counter possibility is emerging: information processing in place of aggressive realism, flexible specialization instead of methodical universalism, and informed cooperation rather than rugged individualism.''24 This is a description of global culture, but perhaps you recognize these emerging experiences: Information processing: Once we worked by the rule; now we read the signs of the times and discern. Flexible specialization: Once we legislated apostolic work; now we inculturate, make the option for the poor, and try to keep faithful to our charism. Informed cooperation: Once our ideal of obedience was the blind man being led; now we dialogue, discern, and even as we are given a mandate we remember that we are, each of us, free men. This is conse-crated life in a postmodern world. We are not likely to comprehend the experience in any seri-ous way unless we accept that postmodernity sees experience as a construct of many elements. This construct is intentional (of and by and for and with other persons and things); derivative (from other experiences and other things); and dialogic (moving in and out, back and forth, between old self and new self). Let me take each of these marks of experience and suggest a thought or two about consecrated life. Constructed. Experience is constructed. It incorporates a past and moves into a future; it combines social, cultural, intellectual, emotive, aesthetic; it entails sensations, memories, desires, and perceptions. Thus, even Descartes's insight Cogito ergo sum--one of the deepest roots of modern individualism--was in a language (Latin) that many past and present spoke. He had the insight with a brain incorporating DNA from two other persons. He felt emo-tions and conviction. Every experience is thus constructed, so that George Schner can correctly claim, "There is a sense in which no experience is strictly 'mine.'''25 The experience of living a consecrated life is also, quite obvi-ously, a construct. Each of us had a unique experience when tak-ing vows, yet we used a formul~ used by thousands before us. And September-October 1998 Tetlow * The Experience of God in Consecrated Life we promised to live these vows accordi

Part three of an interview with George Antonioni. Topics include: The importance of education and the careers of George's children. What it means to be an Italian. George's family now. Visiting Norma's family in Boston. ; 1 INTERVIEWER: … Social Studies teacher today? GEORGE: Well, first of all, I would tell them not too much has changed in the world. If you look at history, it's always been a -- there's always been turmoil. Today it's becoming more -- in our country, heavily rights-oriented, and we have forgotten what the Founding Fathers said. You have rights, but whatever your right, there is a responsibility; and we haven't been enforcing the responsibility part. We are so busy giving you rights that we're not reinforcing the idea that you've got to be responsible for your acts, and that if you go to look around in the courts, courts have been very lenient. But now, we've got these problems. Are we going to continue to just stress rights, or are we going to start looking at responsibility? And I think that's what the crux of the problem is, how to get America back to being responsible for their actions. You've been through the airports, and over the years they don't pay any attention, because it's my right to take this on the plane, it's my right to do this, and it's my right, but no one ever mentions responsibility. Well. And then I would also stress a point that America and Americans don't like long, drawn-out problems. We're so interested in quick solutions, and I would draw it back on -- just on Modern History. We had World War II. At the end of World War II, we don't talk about it, but there were riots. The military was almost in a state of riot. They had these rallies—I guess that would be a better term—in Paris, in Germany, in Manila. I was in Manila when it happened, and I remember walking around, we want to go home. If the war was over, let's go home. But the problem wasn't over yet. You know, the Russians were still throwing their weight around. But, no, we go home.2 INTERVIEWER: Okay. GEORGE: Korean War, the same thing. Let's get out. Vietnam, get out, forget the problem. And now we're running into it again. Even the Persian Gulf War. Some of us we want it. How long was the soldiers there? Their lives and the American public are saying get them back home. But the problem wasn't solved. So if we want to get a better world, we've got to start to have staying power. But that's not Italian stuff I'm telling you now. INTERVIEWER: No, it's history, and it's important. Now, did you have the same… you had mentioned the one generation of Italians or any ethnic group always tries to push their children to do more, get a better education, a better job. GEORGE: Yeah. INTERVIEWER: Did you do that with your own children? GEORGE: Well, I was always a firm believer. I was kind of a woman's rights person. My wife can tell you that. But I always believe that they should have the same thing men could have. I'm an educator, and I always believed education was a great profession. And so when my daughter was growing up, I kind of guided her towards being a teacher, and she always wanted to be a teacher, and she's an excellent teacher. In fact, she goes to school singing, too, you know, she likes it. But I always felt it would be a great profession for -- because we didn't have women's lib like we have today, but I always felt that this was a good job because if your husband dies, you're set. You're home when your children are home, so you can have the best of both worlds. You can be with your children and still get out in the world. And so I always want to make sure she had an education. I didn't worry about the boys going to college, but I always worried about my daughter going to college. I did not want 3 her to have to stay in an unhappy marriage or anything like that so she could be independent. And she's very happy as a school teacher. My two boys, George, teaches at the prison. He went to school, but school was never his ballgame. While he didn't like school, he never missed a day. Now you figure that out. INTERVIEWER: Now he's the entertainer? GEORGE: He was good, yeah. He teaches reading to other prisoners up at Ghana. And Chris is a college graduate also. But Chris, just happy being Chris. I mean, he doesn't miss a day of work and he's been working for the Victory Markets and does not want a promotion, but he's happy and they say if anything happened to me does have his college degree back of him if he wants to use it. But now with the grandchildren, Erin graduated from Syracuse, and she's finishing up at BU, and she wants to be in television, commentating, news reporting, things of that type. Ryan is in Fitchburg High, and right now all he's interested in is preparing for whatever athletic event he has. But he talks in terms of being in the Olympics as a skier, and he does enter national championship events. So he's only 16, so he's got a chance, so. But we always think of school. INTERVIEWER: Are these the children of your daughter? What is your daughter's name? GEORGE: Tina. INTERVIEWER: Okay. Does she go by her…? GEORGE: Married name. INTERVIEWER: Which is? GEORGE: Logan. INTERVIEWER: Logan. Where does she live?4 GEORGE: Right down the street, Northwest. She lives right over there. INTERVIEWER: Okay. GEORGE: Two streets over. INTERVIEWER: Nice and convenient. Now before, when you -- and many people do this. They apparently [unintelligible - 00:06:51] designation? GEORGE: Not really. You do what you do, then do the best you can, and that's it. If you want to go into those things, then you could say, "Well, I was the first one on the conservation commission." But see, a lot of these things, being first is timing. You were there at the right time. I was there at the right time. So if I want to list all the firsts I had, it's not that important. INTERVIEWER: No, it isn't. But as Italian? GEORGE: Oh, yes. Yes, yes. Yes, it's a different type of person, an Italian. Well, I don't have the attributes of the [unintelligible - 00:07:52] and things of that type. I mean, when you start getting into that, if you've been to Italy you can see all these things. I don't care what they say; these others can't do it or couldn't do it. And they talk French pastry. French pastry was not French pastry, but the Medici family brought it there when one of the women married a French king, and all these things. But everybody wants to say it's theirs. But no, they were a unique people. And of course what is an Italian? An Italian is a mixture of about 14 different races. Now there's no such thing as pure Italian, nor is there such a thing as a pure Frenchman or a pure Irishman, either. You're a mixture, and [they all are in] the right location [unintelligible - 00:08:48] the crossroads, just like the Greeks were, and you picked all these things up. Every group that comes through leaves some talent or whatever you want to call it behind when they go on. INTERVIEWER: What does it mean for you to be Italian?5 GEORGE: Well, to be an Italian, it makes me feel that I am part of the history of the world; makes me proud that I have ideas of family, which are strong in the Italian group, stronger probably than almost any other group in the world, and the desire to see your family get ahead. And I think also being Italian makes you proud that you're an American. I think most Italians are proud that they are Americans. They're not in Italy anymore, but that they brought that culture to America. And I'm sure there's great pride that if you look at some of these statistics, there are more Italians in the Armed Forces percentage-wise than any other nationality in the United States. So we have great pride in the things we do. I think that sums it up. Love of family, love of country. INTERVIEWER: Americans who are from Italian [unintelligible - 00:10:26] Italian-American. GEORGE: Yeah, they do. When I applied to Holy Cross, I went down to see a pastor who was Irish, Father Gannon, and he was a Holy Cross graduate. So I went down to see him because I had to fill up the papers. So on your application always says nationality, so I said Italian-American. And he said, "No, you're an American." Oh, all right. I'm American. I didn't use it that often after that. My first lesson being an American, you file an American. INTERVIEWER: [The same]? GEORGE: Well, I don't think they… I think they just think of themselves as American. Although Erin, because her name is Erin, she likes to remember the Irish part of her. She knows she's Italian. She knows that fact. She'll wear a t-shirt once in awhile, "I'm an Italian princess," but she talks about the Irish things because that's strange to her anyway, because all her relatives are Italian. She has no Irish relatives. 6 INTERVIEWER: [Unintelligible - 00:11:43] about that? GEORGE: He was willing to call his son Rocco Logan. INTERVIEWER: I guess they accepted it. GEORGE: And I didn't bring that up, because I am not Rocco. INTERVIEWER: Where did Rocco come from? GEORGE: I don't know. He decided, he thought Rocco Logan would be a good first name for him; and my daughter said, "No, it's not going to be Rocco." So they decided he's Ryan Rocco Logan. So when he enters competition as a skier, everybody gets a great chuckle. And that's unusual when he plays football and things like that. When he goes to his national events, his name is always announced as Ryan Rocco Logan. And most everybody cracks up, Ryan Rocco Logan. INTERVIEWER: It's an interesting name, though. GEORGE: Yeah. INTERVIEWER: Well, I think this would conclude our interview, unless you have anything more to add? Anything that you want? GEORGE: No. Except that, you know, it's been good life in Leominster, although my wife could have preferred we had moved closer to Boston. But she's weathered the storm. NORMA: I'm the only Leominster girl now. GEORGE: Yeah, she's a Leominster girl. NORMA: [Unintelligible - 00:13:01] Leominster girl. INTERVIEWER: So what was the attraction to Boston? NORMA: We came from Boston. INTERVIEWER: Oh, that's right. Your mother. NORMA: [Unintelligible - 00:13:09] our restaurant in Baintree. INTERVIEWER: Baintree. NORMA: [Unintelligible - 00:13:12] Baintree. Personally, I came from Dochester though, and my mother had a heart attack. My mother 7 opened a restaurant in Baintree, and they loved it, but I was [unintelligible - 00:13:22] I was a young girl. INTERVIEWER: And the families would visit even though you were so far apart? NORMA: Oh, yes. We used to visit a lot. GEORGE: What, visit? I used to take her home at least every second week. INTERVIEWER: Every second week. GEORGE: I would go to Boston. NORMA: [Unintelligible - 00:13:38] GEORGE: Yeah. We'd go for the weekend, every second week, for I don't know how many years. Then it was every second week, but just for the day. We'll always go back all the time. I was a good son-in-law. INTERVIEWER: I guess. Would you like to add anything, Norma? NORMA: No, just I'm glad to be in Leominster and had a good life and a good husband. GEORGE: You heard her say that. INTERVIEWER: I know. GEORGE: You got it on tape? INTERVIEWER: We have it on tape. GEORGE: We got it on tape, Norma. NORMA: You know what? I tell everybody I thank God. GEORGE: Oh, that was one of the biggest jokes we had. NORMA: That I was married to him. INTERVIEWER: Really? GEORGE: We were at the Elks one night. All the guys, they go to the bar, joking about different things. And every time I saw someone complain [unintelligible - 00:14:32] tough luck with their life or something that day so that I'm [unintelligible - 00:14:36] -- and I looked at and I say, you guys got it all wrong. My wife thanks God every day that she married me. And they looked, "You are crazy." And one guy goes, "You're nuts." I said I bet you a round 8 for the table that you ask my wife what does she do every day that she'll say that. He says, "You're on." You go the table he says, "Norma, what do you do every day?" "I thank --" [unintelligible - 00:15:01] [laughter] never finished it, "I thank." [Laughter] Well, that's it. INTERVIEWER: Well, thank you very much. This concludes the interview with George./AT/jf/bf/es

Issue 58.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1999. ; Review for Religious is a forum for shared reflection on the lived experience of all who ~nd 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 theological or spiritual or sometimes canonical point of view. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: foppema@slu.edu Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP P.O. Box 29260; YVashington, D.C. 20017 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ° P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©1999 Review for Re!igious 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 ~nust bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Adviso.ry Board David L. Fleming sJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer sJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm James and Joan Felling Kathryn Richards FSP Joel Rippinger OSB Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla $3 David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JULY-AUGUST1999 ¯ VOLUME58 ¯ NUMBER4 contents 342 feature U.S. Catholic Re!igious and Slavery: A Seldom Told Story James Fitz SM examines the significant 19th-century issue of social justice and human transformation, the story of slavery, and how relig!ous in the United States were involved. 364 372 witness Edith Stein: St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross OCD Rita E. Goldman reviews the life of Edith Stein and points out ways she models a contemporary holy life. At Home by the S~a: ' Isabel Green SCN and the House of Prayer Experience C. Walker Golla~ PhD tells the story of Sister Isabel SCN and her influence in the development .of the Hou~se of Prayer movement for spiritual renewal. 384 393 consecrated life Vita Consecrata and the Anthropology of the Vows Dennis J. Billy CSSR develops five basic anthropological dimensions of human existence for a more thorough understanding of the vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience. Authority among Religious in South Asia Nihal Abeyasingha CSSR explores some of the issues dealing with the religious tradition of authority and obedience within different cultural contexts. 403 424 discerning Becoming a Nun: A General Model of Entering Religious Life Barbara Zajac proposes from her sociological research that personal contact and visibility are key elements in fostering vocations to consecrated life. Discerning Community Leadership Mary Benet McKinney OSB presents the advantages and the difficulties that are involved in a community's use of the discernment process. departments 340 Prisms 429 Canonical Counsel: Admission to an Institute of Consecrated Life 435 Book Reviews July-August 1999 prisms In this year dedicated to God the Father, we would do well to bring into sharper focus to whom we pray. For the sake of our prayer life, we might examine how our praying is shaped by Jesus' teaching the Our Father. What are the ordinary elements that we as Christ's disciples appropriately bring to our day-to-day way of l~raying? Our Father Our prayer begins with our, not my, "hello" to One who has loved us into life, the One we call upon as the "God of our life," "Giver of all good gifts," "Abba" (Jesus' love word). who art in heaven One so close, so totally present to us, and yet not in the world of our control--beyond the sphere of limitation and death. hallowed be thy name You are holy--totally other than us; you are God, and we are not. It is your world; we are your creation. Awe-filled, we say "Holy your name!" thy kingdom come For us and for the world, we want what you want. Why? because it is out of love you create and you act and you seek out. thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven May your desires become our desires and so let us act with you--as ones who love. give us this day our daily brei~d Daily let us be with you and work with you for all that sustains our life with Review for Religious and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us There are times we pay no heed to you; we become so caught up in our own way of finding life and in our own way of seeking love. Forgive us for receiving your love so awkwardly, sometimes so grudgingly. Help us to act like you in offering forgiveness to others who hurt us in any way. and lead us not into temptation You know our limits; please be gentle with us in your unquenchable love. Even more we ask you to be strong within us as together we face the things that might make us less than the human persons you call us to be. but deliver us from evil We know that you are always a saving God, and we stand always in your presence as ones who need saving--so we believe, so we trust, so we love. Moved by Christ's Spirit, our praying may take shape in any and all of these reflections of Jesus' way of teaching us to pray. So we pray in Jesus' name. There are some changes within the Review for Religious staffing that I would like all of you, our readers, to know about. Miss Jean Read is retiring after serving some twenty-three years after her first "retirement" from a variety of Jesuit works. Sister Regina Siegfried ASC is returning to full-time teaching and student counseling after six years on our editorial staff. We remain grate-ful for their lasting contributions. We welcome Sister Clare Boehmer ASC to the editorial staff, who assumes special care for the Reviews department. David L. Fleming sJ P.S. To honor Jean Read, who has shouldered a major respon-sibility for the publishing of all the books in the Best of the Review series, we are publishing a new book, Life through a Poet's Eyes, The Best of the Review - 6. See the insert page at the end of this issue. L___2,4.1__ JAMES FITZ U.S. Catholic Religious and Slavery: A Seldom Told Story feature For religious of the United States, actions for social jus-tice and human transformation have become a signifi-cant aspect of our mission since the promulgation of Gaudium et spes at the conclusion of the Second Vatican Council. "The joys and the hopes, the griefs and anxi-eties of the people of- this age, especially those who are poor or in any way afflicted, these are the joys and the hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the followers of Christ" (§1). The (all to social justice and human transforma-tion was notably addressed to religious in a 1981 docu-ment from the Sacred Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes (SCRIS) titled "Religious and Human Advancement" (Le scelte evangdiche). l This call was reaf-firmed most recently by the Synod on Consecrated Life in 1994 and the postsynodal apostolic exhortation Vita consecrata (see §82) in 1996. In June 1997 Representative Tony Hall, Democrat from Dayton, Ohio, and a bipartisan group of eleven members of the United States House of Representatives introduced a one-sentence resolution that the U.S. Congress apologize to African Americans, "whose ances-tors suffered as slaves under the Constitution and laws of the United States until 1865:."2 Thi~ resolution, a James Fitz SM returns to our pages after a busy twelve-year absence. His address is Office of Campus Ministry; University of Dayton; 300 College Park; Dayton, Ohio 45469. Review for Religious response to President Clinton's initiative to heal racial division in this country, began a national debate over whether a national ~apol-ogy for slavery is necessary or useful. The recent movie Amistad has heightened awareness of this issue. In this article I examine this significant 19th-century issue of social justice and human transformation, the story of slavery, and how religious in the U.S.A. were involved in and responded to this critical issue in our American social history. This story is sel-dom told. Hardly one of the glorious moments in the history of American religious life, this story can give us religious a perspec-tive and context for understanding present-day events and can teach us multiple ways of bringing our Christian commitment and tradition to contemporary issues. Also, as history has a way of doing, it witnesses to "development of doctrine," with implica-tions for new issues facing the church today. History challenges its students to remember so they will not repeat mistakes of the past. As Elie Wiesel (Jewish scholar, sur-vivor of the Holocaust, and Nobel Prize winner) has pointed out many times, remembering is important. From remembering and pondering the American practice and eventual proscription of slav-ery, what can we religious learn? In the history of the United States, the Civil War (1861-1865) was a profound trial and test of liberty and equality. As President Abraham Lincoln said at Gettysburg, the "nation was "engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so con-ceived and so dedicated, can long endure." This struggle split the country. Among the various causes of the war, the different approaches to slavery in the North and the South were clearly one, and the abolition of slavery was one of the social transfor-mations that resulted from the war. This article examines how religious in the United States responded to the "peculiar institution" of slavery and to its trans-formation. 3 First, how did the overall U.S. Catholic Church respond to slavery? Second, what was the involvement of religious with slaves and with ministry to slaves? Third, what was the atti-tude of religious toward slaves and the institution of slavery? Lastly, what tentative conclusions can be drawn fo~ religious living in today's world? Besides some primary ~ources, there are significant studies (by Jesuits and Vincentians, for example) on the involvement of their particular religious orders with slavery.4 Many religious commu- July-August 1999 Fitz ¯ U.S. Catholic Religious and Slavery nities either have not written or are in the process of writing or rewriting histories of their foundations in this country. Once com-pleted, these congregational histories will be valuable in nuanc-ing any conclusions drawn from the information now available. A thorough study of the archives of religious orders and congrega-tions throughout the country could reveal some significant details and interesting historical anecdotes to complete the picture. The information already available, however, is enough for an overview of the response of U.S. religious to slavery. Attitude toward Slavery in the Catholic Church of the United States I suspect that for most American religious of the 20th cen-tury, the ownership of sla~es by their forebears in religion is dis-turbing. For religious formed since Vatican Council II, this fact might seem incomprehensible. That council places slavery among the crimes against the dignity of the human person and calls the church to work to eliminate all forms of slavery: The varieties of crime are numerous:., all offenses against human dignity, such as subhuman living conditions, arbi-trary imprisonment, deportation, slavery, prostitution, the selling of women and children, degrading working condi-tions where people are treated as mere tools for profit rathe.r than free and responsible persons: all these and the like are criminal; they poison civilization; and they debase the per-petrators more than the victims and militate against the honor of the creator . Human institutions, both private and public, must labor to minister to the dignity and purpose of the human person. At the same time let them put up a stubborn fight against any kind of slavery, whether social or political, and safeguard the basic rights of the human person under every political system. (GS §§27, 29) In the Catholic Church of the early 19th century, no formal and absolute condemnation of slavery as an institution existed. Although recognizing abuses in the system, the ch~arch did not see slavery as a moral evil in itself, but as a result of original sin, Christians found no condemnation of slavery in the Scriptures or in the writings of early church theologians. "From Genesis to Philemon one could find no condemnation of the practice. Jesus did not utter one word of censure against slavery even though it was in full existence-in,his day. St. Paul, who claimed to have met Review for Religious the resurrected Christ, did nothing to abolish it--in fact, he did just the opposite when he said, 'Slaves, be obedient to your masters.'" Although slavery per se was not condemned, Pope Pius II in 1482 and Pope Urban viii in 1639 had condemned the slave trade. Pope Benedict XlV condemned the continued enslavement of native peoples in 1741.5 By the end of the 18th century, abolition movements began in various countries and in some of the states of the United States. In 1839 Pope Gregory Xvi issued an apostolic letter again calling for the elimination of the African slave trade.6 Voices opposing slavery began to arise among Catholics in European countries.7 Catholics in the United States, how-ever, did not take a lead in the aboli-tionist movement. Of the few significant Catholic voices, the most prominent came from outside the United States--the Irish leader Daniel O'Connell. His voice did not, however, receive a warm welcome in the United States) Catholic leaders consistently tended to identify the abolitionists with anti-Catholic and In the Catholic Church of the early 19th century, no formal and absolute condemnation of slavery as an institution existed. nativist sentiments. The Know-Nothing party platform of 1855, which combined anti-slavery, nativist, and anti-Catholic concerns, did nothing to win Catholic converts to the antislavery movement.9 Catholics leaders tended to avoid the slavery issue, which divided the nation. In their 1859 provincial council meeting in Baltimore, the bishops of the United States avoided taking a stand on the issues. Although Catholic leaders admitted that human bondage was not an ideal system, they differed on the gravity of the evil and the practicality of proposals to end the system. The only element upon which they agreed was that the principles and methods of the abolitionists were a threat to the safety of the country2° At time of the Civil War, northern church leaders generally supported the position of the union, and southern church leaders generally supported the confederacy. In 1862 Orestes Brownson, a prominent American Catholic layman and thinker, wrote that in the mind of Catholics the preservation of the union took prece-dence over the abolition of slavery. As a northerner he wrote that it was his impression that the majority of Catholics opposed the July-August 1999 Fit~ * U.S. C~tbolic Religious and Slavery abolitionists, but were neither in favor of slavery nor opposed to gradual emancipation. At the time he himself supported emanci-pation as a political and military necessity.1~ In his manual of moral theology written in the early 1840s, Francis Patrick Kenrick, bishop of Philadelphia and later archbishop of Baltimore, regretted the institution of slavery as it was practiced in the United States, but generally acquiesced in the prevailing conditions in the country. Although especially concerned about the restrictions on the edu-cation of slaves and on the slaves' freedom to practice religion, he nevertheless opposed violation of laws controlling slavery. He encouraged slaves to be obedient and masters to be just and kind. Though he considered the original seizure of slaves to be immoral, he argued that the descendants of those who originally purchased the slaves should not be held accountable.~2 Kenrick represented Catholic opinion in the United States, which generally supported the status quo. Those Catholics who saw slavery as an evil were generally for gradual, not forced, emancipation. Southern Catholic Church leaders defended slavery, although some, like Bishop Augustin Verot of St. Augustine, Florida, also pointed out that many southern masters had abused slaves, and that the war might be God's punishment for this. Among the abuses Verot listed were masters separating families, masters taking advan-tage of female slaves, and masters providing neither religious instruction nor proper clothing, food, and dwellings for slaves.~3 Like many of their fellow Americans, many Catholics also had racist attitudes toward the slaves. Although Catholics recognized slaves as human persons, they did not necessarily accept them as equals. Reflecting this belief, Orestes Brownson could write, "We recognize in the Negro a man, and assert for him in their plenitude the natural rights of man, but we do not believe him the equal of the white man, and we would not give him in society with white men equality of respect to those rights derived not immediately from manhood, but mediately from political and civil society, and in this we express, we apprehend, the general sentiment of the Catholic population of this country." 14 Religious Involvement with Slaves In his first report to the prefect of the Congregation de Propaganda Fide, Father John Carroll, superior of the priests in the missions of Maryland (and later the first American bishop), sent the Review for Religious statistics concerning Catholics in the United States. African slaves were a significant part of the Catholic Church in Maryland, about twenty percent of the Catholic population.~s Catholics owned most of these slaves. In the period before the Civil War, some American religious, like their American compatriots and fellow Catholics, owned slaves, Most early American Catholics lived in Maryland and Kentucky, states that permitted slavery. The owning of slaves was an adaptation religious made to living in America. Records document that both men and women religious owned slaves. The Jesuits were major slave owners. Lord Baltimore had granted them extensive lands. They owned four large estates in Maryland in Prince Georges, Charles, and St. Mary's counties and two smaller plan-tations on the Eastern Shore. They also had two farms in eastern Pennsylvania. At first they relied upon indentured servants, a practice they never completely aban-doned. "As this form of labor became increasingly difficult to secure and retain in Maryland, the Jesuit missionaries, like their secular fellow planters, turned to slave labor." The first explicit reference to slaves is from 1711, although they probably had slaves before then. By 1765 they had 192 slaves.~6 The Jesuits also owned slaves in the Louisiana Territory, in both St. Louis and New Orleans27 Two congregations of men came to America to establish sem-inaries: the Sulpicians and the Vincentians (Congregation of the Mission). Because the Sulpicians were not large landowners, they did not own 'a large number of slaves. Individual Sulpicians in Emmitsburg and Louisville (Bardstown) owned slaves28 At the invitation of William DuBourg, apostolic administrator of the Louisiana territory, the Vincentians staffed St. Mary's Seminary in Perry County, Missouri, beginning in 1818. DuBourg provided them slaves. The first Vincentian superior of the American mission, Father Felix DeAndreis, hesitated to accept them, but did so because there were no lay brothers who could do the manual labor. In fact, DeAndreis considered the possibility of.enlisting free blacks and mulattoes into the Vincentian community, but discarded the idea because he was convinced, probably rightly at the time, that no white men would enter the community. The introduction of slaves was considered a necessary adaptation to the American sit- The owning of slaves was an adaptation religious made to living in America. Jtdy-August 1999 Fitz ¯ U.S. Catholic Religious and Slavery uation. A'major concern of the Vincentian superiors in Rome was that a woman was admitted to the kitchen and thus within the com-munity living quarters. There was no comment about the fact that she was a slave. In 1830 the seminary had twenty-seven slaves; this appears to be the highest number at any one time.~9 Of the first eight permanent communities of women religious founded within the original boundaries of the United States, six had Slaves: three in Maryland (the Carmelites of Port Tobacco, the Visitation Sisters of Georgetown, the Sisters of Charity of Emmitsburg) and three in Kentucky (the Sisters of Loretto, the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth, and 'the Dominican Sisters of St. Catherine). The annals and traditions of these six communities refer to "Negro" or "colored" servants" brought by some women as part of their down. For example, at the Carmelite convent, where the slaves numbered thirty by 1829, they lived "comfort-ably" outside the cloister and did the farm work.2° Of the first eight congregations, the Oblate Sisters of Divine Providence (an order of African American religious in Baltimore) and the Sisters of Our Lady of Mercy (Charleston, South Carolina) were the two con-gregations that did not have slaves. The other major grouping of religious during the time of slav-ery were those who came to the Louisiana Territory, which became part of the United States in 1803. Most of these religious were French-speaking congregations, although Spanish religious served during the time of Spanish control. In the Louisiana Territory, the Capuchins owned slaves to work their plantations. Mready mentioned was the Jesuit ownership of slaves in the territory.2! Among the communities of women, French-speaking Ursulines were the first to come to New Orleans in 1727. They had slaves provided as part of their contract with the Company of the Indies.22 Although at first reluctant to purchase a slave, Mother Hyacinth, of the Daughters of the Cross (Cocoville, Louisiana), accepted the recommendation of the bishop and purchased a slave.23 The Madames (Religious) of the Sacred Heart had slaves at Grand Coteau, Louisiana, and in Missouri.24 There is correspondence from St. Philippine Duchesne requesting a slave from the Vincentians. The Sisters of Loretto of Bethlehem convent across the road from the Vincentians in Perry County, Missouri, also owned slaves.25 The owning of slaves led consequently to the involvement of religious in the purchase and sale of slaves. For the Sisters of Review for Religious Charity of Nazareth, the purchase of slaves in 1840 was an eco-nomic decision: "The Council decided it was better to buy ser-vants for the farm, and so forth, than pay so much for hire and then often get bad ones."26 When the Carmelites left Charles County for Baltimore in 1831, the disposal of their slaves was one of their difficulties. According to the Carmelite centennial histo-rian, the slaves became a source of anxiety because the sisters did not have the resources to grant them their freedom, so they gave them permission to seek their own masters. The sisters received whatever price the new master gave. Older slaves were left to the care of competent persons, and the sisters provided for their neces-sities until their deaths.27 The involvement in the sale of slaves by the Vincentians is documented in the previously mentioned study. The ownership of slaves led the Vincentians to become involved in the sale and purchase of slaves. There was an attempt t9 be faithful to church law. In a letter addressed to the Vincentian general in 1840, the American provincial, Father John Timon, explained that the"pur-pose of the increased buying of slaves was to bring families together. The Vincentians slowly phased out slaveholding during the 1850s and 1860s. Although personally opposed to slavery, Timon justified the decision to sell the slaves in terms of economic and political rather than moral factors. Freeing the slaves was not considered.28 The sale of the Jesuit slaves in Maryland caused great con-troversy. Some Jesuits sought to free the slaves and, in the pro-cess, change the labor force running their farms from slave to free. When the Jesuits were restored in 1814, the civil corpora-tion made a resolution to this effect in that same year; it was, however, never carried out. The Jesuits became embroiled in a dispute with Ambrose Marechal, the new archbishop of Baltimore, who had initiated claims against the Jesuit estates, arguing that they were meant to support the entire church in Maryland, not just the Jesuits.29 Any sales were delayed until the dispute could be settled. By the 1830s the new group of younger Jesuits was becoming uncomfortable with the estates and their status as slave owners. By this time, however, the climate in the country had changed and the policy of deferred emancipation became more difficult to fol-low. Older Jesuits, mostly Europeans, supported keeping the estates. Younger Jesuits, mostly Americans, wanted to sell them July-Augl~St 1999 Fitz ¯ U.S. Catholic Religious and Slavery and the slaves and concentrate on education. The older Jesuits argued that the slaves were a patrimony. Father Francis Dzierozynski wrote, "I consider the blacks under this respect only, that they are our sons, whose care and salvation have been entrusted to us by Divine Providence and who are always happy under our Fathers." For Dzierozynski and~others, the bond between the slaves and the Jesuits was not to be broken for finan-cial reasons. They argued that selling the slaves would lead to the slaves' physical and moral ruin and would give great scandal.3° In October 1836 the superior general approved the sale of the slaves with the condition that their religious needs must be met, families must not be separated (especially spouses), and the money must be invested for the support of Jesuits in training.31 In June, Father Thomas Mulledy, the provincial, sold the slaves to Henry Johnson of Louisiana. The main group of the slaves was sent to Louisiana in November 1838. Mulledy was denounced to the supe-rior general because some of the slave families were separated, and Mulledy was subsequently replaced. The change to tenant farming ended the Jesuit history as slaveholders. Clearly the young Jesuits who advocated sale of the slaves perceived correctly that owning slaves was scandalous. Their manner of handling the sale clearly violated the principles of the church concerning the sale and treatment of slaves, and they did not provide for their even-tual emancipation. This too wa~ a scandal. ~ In general, how did religious treat their slaves? In his study on American Catholics and slavery, Kenneth Zanca notes "that reli-gious orders treated their slaves more humanely than other slave holders and generally saw to their religious education--even in the defiance of state laws. To be a 'priest's slave' or a 'nun's slave' was considered a fortunate circumstance for a slave.''32 Although the slaves of religious may have been treated more humanely than other, slaves, problems persisted. Father Adam Marshall, the Jesuit charged with overseeing the plantations for the corporation, described the dwellings for the slaves as "almost universally unfit for human beings to live in." When possible, Jesuit brothers were given charge of the farms. Father .Peter Kenney, an Irish Jesuit, sent by the Jesuit superior general as a special visitor to evaluate the American mission in 1819, took exception to the arbitrary treatment of the slaves by the brothers. He found general disaffection among the slaves and particular abuses (for example, whipping pregnant women). He also found the Review for Religious behavior of the slaves scandalous and their practice of religion vir-tually nonexistent. Because of the poor financial condition of the Jesuits in general in the early 1820s, the living conditions of the slaves on most of the plantations were less than adequate. However, with new management the material conditions of the slaves seemed to improve by the 1830s. At St. Inigoes, the most thriving of the plantations, Father Joseph Carberry instituted a system of incentives for the slaves, which led to their economic improvement. Concerning their moral and spiritual condition, despite catech-esis and required attendance at Mass, Kenney found the slaves' lives to be a "moral wasteland and scandalous reproach to the Society" of Jesus. "Some Jesuits attributed the moral anarchy to the Society's own failure to discipline the slaves." 3 3 Some accounts about slaves owned by religious report a general affection by the slaves for their religious owners. At St. Catherine, Kentucky, this is how the ~rs~a~e laws. relationship between the Dominican sis-ters and their slaves is reported.34 When the sisters wanted to build a new chapel, some of the slaves who had come to the sisters as part of a dowry voluntarily offered to do without new clothes for a year so that the money might be donated to the chapel fund. Some slaves gave their earnings toward the project. Even after emancipation, some slaves remained with the sisters until their deaths.3s A report about the slaves owned by the Religious of the Sacred Heart indicates that they were "happy as possible in their snug little cabins" and were converted to the Catholic faith and the "love of the Sacred Heart that was the reason for Grand Coteau's existence.''36 An historian of the earlier Jesuit mission in the United States claims that dur-ing the Revolutionary War the slaves of the Jesuits could have abandoned the Jesuit plantations when British ships raided the plantations. The priests' slaves, unlike neighboring slaves, did not do so. The historian takes this as a sign of the slaves' devotion to their masters.37 There are, however, no accounts from the slaves themselves to confirm these impressions. Religious orders treated their slaves more humanely than other slave holders and generally saw to their religious education-- even in the defiance Ju~-dugltst 1999 Fitz * U.S. Catholic Religious and Slaver~ Ministry by Religious to Slaves Before the Civil War the Catholic Church in the South was small, poor, and understaffed. "Catholicism, in short, could not ade-quately minister to either the slave or the free blacks in the South ([whether] Catholic or non-Catholic), nor could Catholicism prac-tically enforce its own teaching on the proper treatment of slaves."3s The church was hesitant and ambivalent in most of its efforts to work among African Americans, whether slave or free.39 John Carroll was concerned about "a general lack of care in instructing their children and especially the Negro slaves in their religion.''4° Although local parish records indicate a high rate of baptisms among slaves throughout the antebellum period, "there is little evidence of high rates of slave identification with Catholicism in terms of attendance at Mass, marriage in the church, or other signs of Catholic activity and devotion.''4~ Despite this general lack of ade, quate ministry, religious provided some ministry to slaves. Most commonly, it was religious-order priests who provided for the slaves the celebration of the Sunday and holy day Eucharists and the celebration of baptism and marriage. The Vincentians and Capuchins ministered to slaves on the plantations in the Louisiana Territory.42 As noted earlier, the Jesuits provided sacramental min-istry for their slaves, both in Louisiana and Maryland, and for the slaves of Catholic masters in Maryland.43 A Jesuit mission band giving revivals on southern Maryland farms in the Jubilee Year 1851 also served slaves.44 Some religious priests tried to protect slaves from abuse. In 1791, for example, Capuchin Father Joaquin de Portillo ordered slaves to stop working on a holy day of obligation and reported the incident to the Louisiana Eovernor because work on a holy day was a violation of the slave code in the colony.~s In general, religious catechized their slaves and sometimes provided them basic education. As mentioned earlier, the Jesuits taught catechism to their slaves. Religious women catechized and educated black slaves, especially children.In a letter of 1856, Mother Hyacinth indicates that they educated their slave named Simon.46 There is evidence that the Visitation Sisters educated free black girls, and this tradition may have "its origins in the instruction given to their slaves.''47 Bishop England founded the Sisters of Our Lady of Mercy in Charleston, South Carolina, for the purpose of establishing a school for "free colored girls, and to give religious instruction to female slaves.''~s A letter of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton provides evidence of catechetical work among African American children.49 The Daughters of Charity organized classes to teach religion to their slaves,s° The Ursulines in New Orleans also catechized slaves,s| Two religious orders of African American women were founded to educate and catechize African American children. "To work for the Christian education of colored children," four Haitian refugees founded the Oblate Sisters of Divine Providence, "a Religious Society of virgins and widows of color." They provided education for African American children who had no other possi-bilities. Some children they educated may have been slave chil-dren, although that is not clear from the sources,s2 Supported at first by the Sulpicians in the person of Father James Joubert and later by the Redemptorists under the direction of Father Thaddeus Anwander, who was influenced by Father John Neumann, the sis-ters went about their mission under difficult circumstances includ-ing years of neglect and hardship. They continued a school in Baltimore that several of the sisters had started before ~their orga-nization as a religious congregation in 1829. The other religious community of African American sisters, the Sisters of the Holy Family, was founded in New Orleans for the purpose of serving and educating the poor. Before she founded the community, Henriette DeLille had entered into the work of teaching religion to slaves,s3 Although much of their educational work and service ministry was with poor free African Americans, they also did catechetical work among the slaves,s4 Care of slaves was also part of the outreach ministry of women religious. The Sisters of the Holy Family, prompted by the wretched condition of old, abandoned slaves; opened a home for the aged.ss The Hotel Dieu, run by the Daughters of Charity in New Orleans, had a slave department that had special rates and "superior advantages" for members of this class,s6 Attitude of Religious toward the Institution of Slavery and toward Slaves Slavery The attitude of religious in the United States toward slavery tended to mirror the attitude of United States Catholics in general. No religious and no Catholic occupied the' forefront of the aboli-tionist movement. ~uly-August 1999 Fitz ¯ U.S. Catholic Religious and Slavery There are, however, records of individual religious who were opposed to slavery. A Sulpician, Father Louis-Regis Deluol, and a Vincentian, Father John Timon, are two examples. In a letter to Charles Carroll's granddaughter, Deluol wrote that his feelings were most violently opposed to slavery. In the same letter, though, he indicated that he did not see slavery as opposed to divine or ecclesiastical law.57 Timon, the Vincentian superior of the American mission who was responsible for ending Vincentian involvement in slavery, accepted the bishopric of Buffalo, New York, because he feared he might be named coadjutor of Bardstown. Timon "would have intensely disliked that appointment because Negro slavery obtains in the state of Kentucky."58 Opposition to slavery did not, in general, lead religious to participate in the abolitionist move-ment or to the manumission of slaves. There were religious who supported slavery. Father John Ryder SJ, of Georgetown University, addressing an audience in Richmond in 183 5, defended slavery "as a positive benefit to the slav.e, while arguing that abolitionism was incompatible with Catholicism."59 One of the most prominent Catholic figures of the 19th cen-tury was Isaac Thomas Hecker, a convert to Roman Catholicism, a religious, and the founder of the Paulists. Oversimplifying, one can say that Hecker saw as his task the adaptation of the Roman Catholic Church to America, "proving to Catholics that their coun-try was not Protestant at its ideological roots, .and to Protestants that Catholics were not inherendy anti-democratic." Like his men-tor Orestes Brownson, Hecker saw Roman Catholic natural-law theory as a stronger grounding for democracy than Protestantism or Lockean liberalism. Hecker's dream of America's conversion to Catholicism never materialized.6° At the time of the Civil War, Hecker was laying the founda-tions of the Paulist community. In his writings and letters he hardly mentions the raging political issues of slavery and expansion.6~ In a sermon written in April 1861 b~t apparently never delivered, Hecker was convinced that the "root of the problem between the states was a lack of common religion.62 In a series of articles before the war, Hecker had written that the Catholic Church was friend of both master and slave. He had cohtrasted the Catholic Church, which supported union and reconciliation, with the fanatic and divisive Protestant abolitionists. I-Iecker saw the war as a perfect example of how the Catholic Church would have prevented hos- Review for Religious tility. "Slavery, under the benign influence of Catholic principles and legislation, voluntarily and insensibly disappears, just as serf-dom was made to give way to modern society without violence or bloodshed." Hecker hoped that the Civil War would lead the coun-try to see the value of Catholicism.63 On the issue of slavery itself, Hecker held views conventional for a Roman Catholic of his day. There is evidence of his views in correspondence with Jane Sedgwick, a convert and friend in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, in the spring of 1861. Hecker's letter to Sedgwick no longer exists, but her response indicates her dis-agreement with his defense of servitude under certain conditions. We have no record of Hecker's response to her questions and argu-ments. "Once the war came, Hecker told friends he had always been opposed to slavery; he even told Bishop Lynch of Charleston that he regarded the war as a punishment of the South for its evils.''64 One of his biographers, David O'Brien, quotes a passage from a letter of September 1861 : The sentiment of loyal Americans whether Catholic or not is getting always [more] and more strong and united every day against slavery and without any change of principle. We have always taken the ground that it is an evil and a disgrace which might be tolerated for a time, but ought to be grad-ually abolished. The Constitutional rights of the states for-bade, however, any direct meddling and made it our duty to protect the institution of slavery against unjust aggression. Now, however, since slavery is so destructive of national prosperity, and the South by its rebellion has forfeited all claim to the forbearance of the North, we think the time will soon come to expel slavery from our entire country.65 Slaves Attitudes toward slaves among religious are similar to those held by other white Catholic Americans. Although some English Protestants held the view that Negroes were incapable of baptism because they were not strictly human, Catholics did baptize slaves when the occasion presented itself, especially when the slaves were their own.6. Father George Hunter, a Jesuit, reminded masters of their duty to treat slaves with charity. "As they are members of Jesus Christ, redeemed by his precious blood, they are to be dealt with in a charitable, Christian, paternal manner; which is at the same time a great means to bring them to do their duty to God, and therefore to gain their souls.".7 Although seen as human, slaves were often treated and described in condescending and paternal- July-August 1999 Fitz * U.S. Catholic Religious and Slavery istic terms. The treatment of slaves as property (moving them from one place to another) manifests the failure of religious to treat slaves as fully human. The language of religious also por-trayed their condescending attitudes toward slaves. Father Joseph Mosley SJ, who came to Maryland at the time of the Jesuit sup-pression in 1773, wrote to his sister the following year: "They ['the Negroes'] are naturally inclined to thieving, lying, and much lechery. I believe want [poverty] makes them worse thieves and liars, and the innate heat .of the climate of Africa and their natu-ral temper of constitution gives them a bent to lechery.''6s Another Jesuit, Brother Mobberly, who managed St. Inigoes from 1806 to 1820, felt that a lack of discipline was the root of the slaves' prob-lems. He developed a racial theory of African subservience.69 Mobberly wrote in his diary: "The better a Negro is treated, the worse he becomes." With this attitude, there is little wonder that Mobberly was removed a month after the visit of Father Kenney in 1820.70 Against the background of slavery, Vincentian lay brothers felt and caused some difficulty within their congregation. "The broth-ers resented the implicit identification of their work with that of slaves and were increasingly reluctant to do certain types of labor, perhaps under the influence of American attitudes." Like many white laborers, the lay brothers disliked doing the kind of work slaves did, considering it degradation. Father Rosati, one of the Vincentian superiors, struggled with the duplicity he saw in the lay brothers: they did not want slaves, but refused to do the work that the slaves were hired or bought to do.71 Some religious felt compassion for the slaves, although this compassion did not always lead to action. Mother Theodore Guerin, who founded the Sisters of Providence of Saint Mary-of-the-Woods in Indiana, wrote the following in her journal about her trip to New Orleans: The most painful sight I saw in New Orleans was the selling of slaves. Every day in the streets at appointed places, Negroes and Negresses in holiday attire are exposed for this shameful traffic, like the meanest of animals at our fairs. This spectacle oppressed my heart. Lo! I said to myself, these Americans, so proud of their liberty, thus make game of the liberty of others. Poor Negroes! I would have wished to buy them all that I might say to them, "Go! Bless Providence. You are free." But such feelings must be concealed from the Louisianians, as this is a point on which they are very sensio tire.72 Review for Religious The Vincentian Father DeAndreis also felt compassion toward the slaves. In a letter of 1819 to the Vincentian community at Monte Citoria, he wrote: .With regard to the situation of the blacks and mulattoes, these are for the most part slaves, who are condemned to eat the bread of sorrow and to bear pondus diei et aestus [the burden of the day and the scorching heat (Mt 20:12)] and, what is worse, in their harsh condition to serve the passions of others and to be in the moral impossibility of knowing and practicing religion. They are commonly forbidden to contract marriage because of the loss that their masters would suffer as a result, something that exposes them to a thou-sand dangers. For the rest these natives of Africa are for the most part simple and disposed to profit by the labors that are undertaken for their salvation. They are moved at seeing a white priest interested in them since they are regarded as the offscouring and refuse of the human race. How many subjects of consolation do not these poor creatures offer me! They are instructed, they make their first communion, and then they frequent the sacraments.73 DeAndreis's writing flowed from personal experience. After arriving in St. Louis in 1818, he made the African Americans of the city an object of his special ministry. His friend Joseph Rosati, who became the first bishop of St. Louis, recollected that people were astonished at seeing a scholar applying himself to this min-istry with special ardor and dedication.74 Conclusion Several general trends can be drawn from this study of American religious and slavery. Like their fellow Catholics, some American religious owned and sold slaves and became entangled in the control and supervision of slaves. Although some commenta-tors indicate that, in general, religious treated their slaves better than .other slave masters, there are few slave witnesses to verify this perception. Religious provided sacramental ministry and edu-cation (mostly catechetical) to their slaves and to the slaves of other Catholic masters. Religious also provided limited social ser-vices to slaves. With regard to the institution of slavery, American religious mirrored American Catholics in general. They did not see slav-ery as intrinsically wrong. If they opposed slavery, they were for gradual emancipation. Although they saw slaves as human, slaves 3%dy-August 1999 Fitz ¯ U.S. Catholic Religious and Slavery were often described in condescending and racist terms. Some compassion was shown, but this did not often lead to action or a desire to eliminate the institution. As an historical account, this article could end at this point. But should more be said? Is there anything we, as religious living near the end of the 20th century, might learn from our forebears in the faith as we grapple with social-justice and social-transformation issues in the world today? There are several important lessons. A first lesson might be a challenge for us as religious to exam-ine more critically our relationship to culture. As religious, we are called to be prophetic. Hopefully, our words, actions, and lives will perform at least two prophetic functions: criticize the existing sinful and unjust social consciousness and energize the world by embodying an alternative way to live that brings hope.7s This prophetic witness can be greatly compromised if we live com-pletely apart from the culture. Conversely, if we are so immersed in the culture that we do not see injustices, and in fact participate in them, our actions become a source of scandal. American reli-gious quickly adapted to the American experience of slavery. Was this an example of being too immersed in the culture to be truly prophetic to it? Were some religious so much outsiders (for exam-ple, Catholic, French extraction, unmarried women) that criticism was muted in order not too offend? The experience of slavery of American religious in the 19th century can challenge religious today to look at our present culture. Are there structures in which we are so immersed that we fail to see injustice present? Are there unjust structures that we are afraid to challenge because the chal-lenge might cost us personally or communally? Are we alert and attentive to the structures of culture that may need prophetic chal-lenge and a witness to :an alternative way? For international institutes, these same questions may be asked concerning new implantations in other cultures. What aspects of the new culture should be accepted as compatible with and expres~ sive of gospel values? What aspects are unjust and need to be opposed? As the first religious in America quickly adapted to the institution of slavery, are there aspects of other cultures to which we are easily adapting without critical thought? These are not easy questions, but they are important if we are to be faithful to our prophetic witness. Second, the slavery issue can be a lesson in listening to and evaluating the message of another. Catholics, including religious, Review for Religqous did not listen to the abolitionists because a significant group of abolitionists was anti-Catholic as well (though this was not true of all of them). Although abolitionists may have been wrong in their anti,Catholicism, they were prophetic in their respect for the dignity of African Americans. In our own day the truth may be proclaimed by someone with whom we have little in common or with whom we disagree on significant issues. Truth can come from anywhere, and we need to hear the truth whether it comes from friend or foe, compan-ion or opponent. Are we today open to the truth, from whatever source? Have we stopped listening to some group where the truth may be present, even in the midst of error? A third lesson concerns the development of doctrine in the history of the Catholic Church. In the area of social justice and trans-formation, there are significant examples of this development. The institution of slavery, once considered a moral way to treat individuals, is now considered immoral. Reflection over the years has helped the church come to a new understanding of the implications of the reign of God as Jesus proclaimed it. As the early church struggled with the issue of accepting Gentiles into the church, so American Christians of the 19th century grappled with the implications of the gospel in terms of slavery. Statements made by bishops over a hun-dred and fifty years ago have been reversed by bishops in our own day. What was once considered not intrinsically wrong is now con-sidered a crime against human dignity. This development of doc-trine, therefore, can be a source of hope as we grapple with new justice issues today. As we deal with right-to-life issues (think of abortion and capital punishment), dignity-of-women issues, and other such issues, what appears as a small glimmer of light (even a light from outside the church) may be the source of new insight and a new living of the reign of God in future generations. A call for change, for which there may be little'support now, may gain considerable support as time passes. Religious in the United States have been called by the church to commit themselves to social justice and social transformation. We have chosen to commit ourselves to these values. Although the story of American religious involvement in and response to Are there structures in which we are so immersed that we fail to see injustice present ? ~uly-August 1999 Fitz * U.S. Catholic Religious and Slavery the institution of slavery in this country is not one of the glorious moments in our history, we can hope that the experience of our forebears in dealing with this issue may bring light and insight to our present-day struggle to discern the call of the Spirit in our world. Notes ~ I am using Austin Flannery's translation of the tide of this document, which has elsewhere been called "Religious and Human Promotion." The document was issued by the congregation in January 1981. See Origins 10, no. 34 (5 February 1981): 529-541. 2 House Concurrent Resolution 96, Congressional Record, 1997, H3890-3891. 3 A term I have borrowed from Kenneth M. Stamp, The Peculiar Institution: Slavery in the Ante-Bellum South (New York: Vintage Books, 1956). 4 R. Emmett Curran, "'Splendid Poverty': Jesuit Slaveholding in Maryland, 1805-1838," in Randall M. Miller and John L. Wakelyn, eds., Catholics in the Old South: Essays on Church and Culture (Macon, Georgia: Mercer University Press, 1983); Stafford Poole CM and Douglas J. Slawson CM, Church and Slave in Perry Country, Missouri, 1818-1865 (Lewistown, New York: Edwin Mellen Press, 1986). s Kenneth J. Zanca, ed., Amen'can Catholics and Slavery, 1789-1866: An Anthology of Primary Documents (Latham, Maryland: University Press of America, 1994), pp. xxxi and 37-39. 6 Madeleine Hooke Rice, American Catholic Opinion in the Slavery Controversy (Gloucester: Peter Smith, 1964), p. 21. 7 John Francis Maxwell, Slavery and the Catholic Church: The History of Catholic Teaching concerning the Moral Legitimacy of the Institution of Slavery (London: Barry Rose Publishers, 1975), pp. 101-110. 8 David J. O'Brien, Public Catholicism, 2nd ed. (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1996), p. 65. See also Rice, American Catholic Opinion, pp. 80-85. 90'Brien, Public Catholicism, p. 53. ,0 Rice, American Catholic Opinion, p. 85. ii Zanca, American Catholics, pp. 134-139. This is an article from Brownson 's Quarterly Review. 12 Zanca, American Catholics, p. 200. See also Joseph D. Brokhage, Francis Patrick Kenrick's Opinion on Slavery (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1955), pp. 122-124. 13 Zanca, American Catholics, pp. 201-209. This is a sermon preached by Verot in 1861. ~ Zanca, American Catholics, p. 136. ts Cyprian Davis, The History of Black Catholics in the United States (New York: Crossroad, 1990), p. 35. Review for Religious ,6 Curran, "Splendid Poverty," p. 126. 17 Poole and Slawson, Church and Slave, pp. 180-181. ~8 Christopher J. Kauffmar~, Tradition and Transformation in Catholic Culture: The Priests of Saint Sulpice in the United States from 1791 to the Present (New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1988), p. 146. See also Poole and Slawson, Church and Slave, p. 143. 19 Poole and Slawson, Church and Slave, pp. 144-158 and 162. 20 Barbara Misner, Highly Respectable and Accomplished Ladies: Catholic Women Religious in America, 1790-18~0, Vol. 22 of The Heritage of American Catholicism, ed. Timothy Walch (New York: Garland Publishing, 1988), pp. 75 and 76. See also Mary Ewens OP, "The Role of the Nun in Nineteenth-Century America: Variations on the International Theme" (Doctoral diss., University of Minnesota, 1971), p. 38. 2t Roger Baudier, The Catholic Church in Louisiana (New Orleans, 1939), pp. 89, 108-109, 115-116, 131-132,139, 202. 22 Sister Frances Jerome Woods, "Congregations of Religious Women in the Old South," in Catholics in the Old South: Essays on Church and Culture, ed. Randall M. Miller and Jon L. Wakelyn (Macon, Georgia: Mercer University Press, 1983), p. 112. 23 Woods, "Congregations,,' p. 113. See also Ewens, "Role of the Nun," p. 22. 24 Woods, "Congregations," p. 114. See also Ewens, p. 64, and Davis, History, p. 39. 2s Poole and Slawson, Church andSlave, pp. 171 and 172. 26Misner, Highly Respectable, p. 82, quoting from an archival record. 27Misner, Highly Respectable, p. 77. 28Poole and Slawson, Church and Slave, pp. 186-189. 29Curran, "Splendid Poverty," pp. 134-135. 30Curran, "Splendid Poverty," pp. 138, 140, 141. ~ Curran, "Splendid Poverty," p. 142. 32 Zanca, American Catholics, p. 111. ~3 Curran, "Splendid Poverty," pp. 129, 130, 132. 34 V~Zoods, "Congregations," p. 114. ~5 Misner, Highly Respectable, p. 84, and Woods, "Congregations," p. 114. The two authors seem to be using a common source, Commemorative booklet for American Bicentennial (St. Catherine, 1976). 36 Woods, "Congregations," p. 114, quoting from Margaret Williams, Second Sowing: The Life of Mary Aloysia Hardey (New York, 1942), p. 103. 37 Thomas Hughes SJ, History of the Society of ffesus in North America, Colonial and Federak Text, From 164Y till 1773, Vol. 2 (London: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1917), p. 565. ~8 Michael McNally, "A Minority of a Minority: The Witness of Black July-August 1999 Fitz ¯ U.S. Catholic Religious ~nd Slavery Women Religious in the Antebellum South," Review for Religious 40, no. 2 (March 1981): 261. 39 Margaret Susan Thompson, "Philemon's Dilemma: Nuns and the Black Community in Nineteenth-Century America: Some Findings," in The American Catholic Religious Life: Selected Historical Essays, ed. Joseph M. White (New York: Garland Publishing, 1988), p. 83. 40 John Carroll, "The First American Report to Propaganda on Catholicism in the United States, March 1, 1785," in Documents of American Catholic History, Vol. 1, 1493 to 186~, ed. John Tracy Ellis (Wilmington: Michael Glazier, 1987), p. 149. 4~ Randall M. Miller, "The Failed Mission: The Catholic Church and Black Catholics in the Old South," in Miller and Wakelyn, Catholics in the Old South, p. 152. 42 Baudier, Catholic Church, pp. 76-77. 43 Baudier, Catholic Church, pp. 139, 161. The Capuchins provided ministry to slaves in Louisiana. A dispute arouse between the Jesuits and the Capuchins over whether the Jesuits, who were assigned to the Indian missions, had jurisdiction and could minister to their own slaves (see Baudier, pp. 115-116). ~4 Edward E Beckett SJ, "Listening to Our History: Inculturation and Jesuit Slaveholding," Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits 28, no. 5 (November 1996): 15. 4s Baudier, p. 213. 4~ Woods, "Congregations," p. 113. 47 Misner, Highly Respectable, p. 203 48 Misner, Highly Respectable, pp. 204-205. 49 Zanca, American Catholics, p. 143. ' 50 Woods, "Congregations," p. 112. s~ Baudier, Catholic Church, p. 183. 52 Sister M. Reginald Gerdes OSP, "To Educate and Evangelize: Black Catholic Schools of the Oblate Sisters of Providence (1828-1880)," U.S. Catholic Historian 7, nos. 2 and 3 (Spring/Summer 1988): 183-199. s3 Woods, "Congregations," p. 115. 54 Davis, History, pp. 105-I10. See also Woods, "Congregations," p. 116, and Baudier, Catholic Church, p. 397. 55 McNally, "Minority," p. 264. ~6 Woods, "Congregations," p. 113, and Baudier, p. 396. Baudier is quoting from the silver-jubilee booklet of the Hotel Dieu School of Nursing in 1927. 57Kauffman, Tradition and Transfomnation, p. 146. 58 Poole and Slawson, Church and Slave, p. 179. 59 Beckett, "Listening to Our History," p. 45, fn. 186. 60 Edward J. Langlois, "Isaac Hecker's Political Thought," in Hecker Review for Religions Studies: Essays on the Thought of Isaac Hecker, ed. John Farina (New York: Paulist Press, 1983), pp. 51 and 66. 6, David J. O'Brien, Isaac Hecker: An American Catholic (New York: Paulist Press, 1992), p. 191. 62 Langlois, "Isaac Hecker's Political Thought," p. 68. See also p. 85, fn. 36. 63 Hecker's sermon, quoted in Langlois, p. 69. 64 O'Brien, lsaac Hecker, p. 192. 6s O'Brien, Isaac Hecko; p. 192. 66Zanca, American Catholics, p. 113 67Hughes,.History, Vol. 2, p. 559. 68Zanca, American Catholics, pp. 1 I3-114. 69Beckett, "Listening to Our History," p. 2 I. 70Curran, "Splendid Poverty," p. 133. 7~ Poole and Slawson, Church and Slave, pp. 156-157. 72 Zanca, American Catholics, p. 117. 73Poole and Slawson, Church and Slave, pp. 145-146. ~4 Poole and Slawson, Church and Slave, p. 147. 75 For further development of the concept of religious life as acted prophecy, see my article "Religious Life as~Acted Prophecy," Review for Religious 41, no. 6 (November-December 1982): 923-927. I Will I will survive even though I have doubts and fears, I will survive when my eyes are full of tears, I will go on with faith in God's hands I will trust my Jesus for I know he understands. Janice Barham July-August 1999 RITA E. GOLDMAN Edith Stein: St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross OCD witness We might begin by asking ourselves, who is Edith Stein? First and foremost, she is a woman, a Jewish woman, student, nurse, scholar/philosopher, teacher, Carmelite nun, and confessor/martyr saint. She was inscribed in the calendar of saints on 11 October 1998, having been beatified at Cologne, Germany, on 1 May 1987. On the last few pages of her work On the Problem of Empathy, she has left us a short biographic sketch. She writes: "I, Edith Stein, was born on 12 October 1891 in Breslau, the daughter of the deceased merchant Siegfried Stein and his wife, Auguste, n~e Courant. I am a Prussian citizen and Jewish." She tells us that, in the year she was born, 12 October was the greatest Jewish holy day, Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. Her mother, a devout Jew, always considered this a great blessing, having her last child on the Day of Atonement. Edith was the youngest of eleven children, of whom only seven sur-vived. Her mother was widowed twenty-one months after Edith was born. She tells of where she went to school and then of beginning the study of philosophy, to be interrupted in 1916 when she served with the Red Cross during the Rita E. Goldman wrote "Frances Cabrini: A Woman for Today" for our November-December 1996 issue, Her address is 3041 North Country Club Road, Apartment 220; Tucson, Arizona 85716. Revie~v for Religious First World War. After the war she became a teacher at a girls' secondary school in Breslau. Later she began work on her doc-torate in phenomenology, becoming an assistant to Edmund Husserl. In 1917 she was asked by the widow of her former teacher Adolf Reinach, who had died at the front, to help put her hus-band's papers in order. Frau Reinach was a devout Christian; and it was from her influence that Edith began to move toward the Christian faith. In the summer of 1921 she read the autobiography of St. Teresa of Avila, the great Carmelite mystic of the 16th cen-tury. "This," she concluded, "is the truth." She was baptized on New Year's Day 1922. After her baptism Edith spent the next eight years teaching German and literature at St. Magdalena's, a teacher training insti-tute run by the Dominican Sisters at Speyer. During this time she continued her philosophic interests, writing a two-volume study of the philosophy of St. Thomas Aquinas. She tried to obtain a pro-fessorship at Freiburg, but was refused because she was a woman. Though she was later to be barred from publishing and lecturing because of being Jewish, at this time she traveled extensively to give lectures in places as varied as Munich, Vienna, Prague, Juvisy (near Paris), and Zurich. In 1932 she accepted a teaching post at the German Institute for Scientific Pedagogy in MOnster. The following year she was denied her lectureship under a Nazi decree aimed at Jews. In October 1933, on the Feast of St. Teresa of Avila, Edith entered the Carmel at Cologne. When the situation in Germany became very bad for Jews, Edith was transferred to the Carmel at Echt, in Holland. But this move did not save her, and in August 1942 she and her sister Rosa were arrested and deported. She died at Auschwitz, on or near 9 August 1942. What I have said above is a general outline of Edith Stein's life, but I think we are more concerned with her thought, what led her to become a Catholic, what called her to become a Carmelite nun, than with the externals of her life. At the age of fifteen, Edith decided she did not believe in God. When she was twenty-four, during her study of phenomenology, a flicker of faith began to catch her ey.e. Then came her contact with Frau Reinach and her reading of the life of St. Teresa of Avila. In St. Teresa's response to Christ's love, Edith found the answer she had sought. She decided to follow Christ's invitation and enter July-Augtlst 1999 GoMman ¯ Edith Stein the Catholic Church. (Even at that time Edith was strongly aware that an attraction to live out her baptismal commitment as a mem-ber of the Discalced Carmelite Order and as a daughter of St. Teresa was inseparable from her resolve to enter the church.) Edith bought a catechism and a missal, studied them thor-oughly, then went to her first Mass in the parish church of Bergzabern, celebrated by the pastor, Monsignor Breitling. Finding that she had no difficulty in following the Mass, she approached Monsignor Breitling afterwards and asked for baptism. The sur-prised pastor told her that there is usually an extended period of preparation before someone is received into the church. But Edith would not relent and asked that he examine her right then on the truths of the faith. The "examination" went so well that her bap-tism was set for the coming New Year's Day. Edith began attend-ing Mass daily--it became the center of her spiritual life. During the years she taught at St. Magdalena's, she was remembered as a teacher who was "modest and unassuming., she went about her work pretty much unseen and unheard, always friendly and ready to be of help." As one student wrote of her rec-ollections of Edith Stein: "Actually, she gave us everything. Though we were all very young at the time, none of us has ever been able to forget the spell that her personality exerted. Her manner alone made her a model for us at that critical time. There's not a single remark of hers that I can repeat--and it isn't that her comments were not memorable, but that she was a quiet, untalkative person who could influence us simply by who she was." These words reflect what Edith herself said of her teaching. She regarded edu-cation as a form of apostolate and generously devoted herself to all the needs of her students. When in 1932-1933 Edith could no longer teach or publish because of the situation in Germany, she at last received permis-sion to enter the Cologne Carmel. This was something she had wanted to do since the day she was baptized, and now it was to be fulfilled. From 16 July to 15 August 1933, she lived in the extern guest quarters at the C.ologne convent while getting acquainted with the sisters. After" that she spent several months in Breslau doing all she could to make her leave-taking easier on her family before her entrance into Carmel on 15 October, the feast of St. Teresa. For six months she was a postulant, being admitted to the novitiate on 15 April 1934. At this time she received her name in religion, Sister Teresa .Benedicta of the Cross. She had taken the Review for Religious name of Teresa at the time of her baptism and took the name Benedicta of the Cross--blessed by the cross--which was her great devotion. She took the name Benedicta also in honor of St. Benedict, since she had been the spiritual child of Archabbot Walzer, who was the abbot at Beuron, the monastery where she had spent much time. In 1935 on Easter Sunday she pronounced her first vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience and three years later, on 21 April 1938, she made her final solemn profession. Life in the monastery was for Edith very different from what she had experienced in the world. She was forty-two years old, and the other novices were in their twenties. She was not accus-tomed to housework and made all kinds of mistakes. The novice mistress had been a bit worried at first when she heard she would have to teach a scholar, but Edith was so amiable and eager to learn that the novice mistress forgot her nervousness. Another thing, her time was not her own--and was very much regulated by bells. After the novitiate, however, much of her assigned work was of an intellectual nature. She revised some of the things she had written while at Speyer. Some of her writings during this period are published in The Hidden Life. At times she also served as receptionist (at the "turn" and on the telephone) and as infirmarian. On 31 December 1938 she was driven across the border to the Carmelite monastery at Echt in Holland. Since Kristallnacht (8 November 1938), Edith had thought it best not to endanger the Cologne Carmel any longer with her presence. Sister Teresa Benedicta spent only a little over three years in the Echt Carmel. During this time she suffered greatly, not know-ing what was happening to her family. Some of her brothers and sisters were able to emigrate to America, but several were not per-mitted to go. Her sister Rosa was with her, having become a Catholic after the death of their mother in 1936. Edith's letters at this time express a central theme: Do everything you can to give joy to others; let God guide you without resistance; fill up She had taken the name of Teresa at the time of her baptism and took the name Benedicta of the Cross-blessed by the cross - which was her great devotion. July-Augv~st 1999 Goldman ¯ Edith Stein the emptiness of your heart with love of God and neighbor. In 1939 she composed her final testament. It reveals more than anything else her conscious acceptance of her particular mis-sion. I quote from the concluding lines: I joyfully accept in advance the death God has appointed for me, in perfect submission to his most holy will. May the Lord accept my life and death for the honor and glory of his name, for the needs of his holy Church (especially the preservation, sanctification, and final perfecting, of our holy order, and in particular for the Carmels of Cologne and Echt), for the Jewish people, that the Lord may be received by his own and his kingdom come in glory, for the deliverance of Germany and peace throughout the world, and finally for all my relatives living and dead and all whom God has given me: may none of them be lost. In late July 1942 the Dutch bishops issued a pastoral letter that was read in all the Catholic parishes of the Netherlands con-demning the deportation of Jews. One week after the bishops' pas-toral letter, on 2 August 1942, the Nazis in a single sweeping operation rounded up all Jewish Catholics, among them Edith and Rosa Stein. On 6 August Edith and Rosa and many other Jewish Catholics were at Westerbork awaiting deportation to the "east." The destination was Auschwitz, where it is believed both Edith and Rosa were executed on 9 August. When the church canonizes someone, it is in essence saying that it is safe to imitate this person. In putting its final approval on Edith Stein by declaring her a saint, the church says to us that we cannot go wrong if we incorporate into our lives the ideals that she professed. Edith Stein gave much to our world by her life and death, and now that she is ranked among the saints in heaven, she is still able to give to us by her example and prayers. I think Edith Stein could easily be the patron saint of academics, school teach-ers, and certainly single people living in the world, since this was her life before she entered Carmel. We may not be called upon to give our lives for our faith, but there are endless possibilities of our practicing virtue as exemplified in Edith Stein's life. First of all, she was a modern woman, one who lived in the world, made her living, and when time permitted spent many hours at home with her family--remember she came from a large fam-ily and her mother died in her eighty-seventh year in 1936. She is a 20th-century woman, one who had a deep regard for the voca-tion of women in our world. I point out her book on woman, Review for Religions where she brings out the vocation of women, their education and professionalism, their life not only in the church, but in civic and national life as well. She had experienced exclusion from a pro-fessorship because she was a'woman--Edith Stein could easily be the patron saint of the feminist movement of our day. Edith Stein is a model for our prayer life. Even from the time before her baptism, daily Mass was on her agenda, and she was very familiar with the other official prayer of the church, the Divine Office, the Breviary, now called the Liturgy of the Hours. She often went to the Benedictine abbey at Beuron and participated in the choral praying of the Liturgy of the Hours. Being there for Holy Week services was something she anticipated yearly. Besides Mass and Office, she was accustomed to spending several hours daily in private prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. She had a great familiarity with Scripture and quotes it often in her letters. Before she entered Carmel, she would accompany her mother to the synagogue and pray the psalms in Latin that her mother was praying in Hebrew. Even in her busy life of teaching, writing, counseling students, giving lectures, and so forth~ she always found time for prayer. I hope that this brief sketch provides some insight into this new saint of ours, one who is very aware of our times. Edith Stein is being proclaimed a martyr and a confessor. At the homily of her beatification, Pope John Paul II declared: "In the extermina-tion camp She died as a daughter of Israel 'for the glory of the Most Holy Name' and, at the same time, as Sister Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, literally, 'blessed b~ the cross.'" The "cause" of her martyrdom, the pope said, was the Dutch bishops' letter of protest against the deportation 6f the Jews. But, he added, because of her great desire to unite with the sufferings of Christ on the cross, she "offered herself to God as a 'sacrifice for genuine peace' and above all for her threatened and humiliated Jewish people." Prudently he left unmentioned her desire to atone for Jewish "unbelief." To many Jewish people the canonization of Edith Stein is an affront. What about the six million Jews who were exterminated and are not saints in the Catholic sense? In my opinion Edith Stein is a Catholic saint who iust happened to have Jewish origins, some-thing she was especially proud of after she came into the church. Edith Stein is a model for our prayer life. July-August 1999 Goldman ¯ Edith Stein Perhaps it is also a mystery. In my own life, being Jewish and Catholic has been a great grace. I have always said that I did not really convert, but just kept going on. Judaism is the beginnings of Christianity, and my own beginnings have been fulfilled in my life. I am sure Edith Stein looked at this in the same way. I close this brief essay with the prayer from the Mass of St. Edith Stein, whose feast will be celebrated.on 9 August: Lord God of our ancestors, you brought St. Teresa Benedicta to the fullness of the science of the cro~s at the hour of her martyrdom. Fill us with that same knowledge; and, through her intercession, allow us always to seek after you, the supreme truth, and to remain faithftil until death to the covenant of love ratified in the blood of your Son for the salvation of all. Grant this through Christ our Lord. Amen. Select Bibliography Works by Edith Stein: Collected Works of Edith Stein. Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications¯ Vol. I: Life in a Jewish Family. Trans. Josephihe Koeppel OCD. Vol. 2: Essays on Woman. Trans. Freda M. Oben PhD. Vol. 3: The Problem of Empathy. Tians. Waltraut Stein PhD. Vol. 4: The Hidden Life. Trans. Waltraut Stein PhD Vol. 5: Self-Portrait in Letters 1916-1942. Trans. Josephine Koeppel OCD. Edith Stein: Selected Writings, ed. Susanne M. Batzdorff. Springfield, Illinois: Templegate Publishers, 1990. On the Problem of Empathy (Zum Problem der Einfiihlung). Trans¯ Waltraut Stein. The Hague: M. Nijhoff, 1964. The Science of the Cross (Kreuzewissenschaf~). Trans. Hilda Graef. Chicago: Regnery, 1960. "Ways to Know God" (Wege der Gotteserkenntnis). Trans. M. Rudolf Mlers. The Thomist, July 1946. Works about Edith Stein: Batzdorff, Susanne M. Aunt Edith: The Jewish Heritage of a Catholic Saint. ~Springfield, Illinois: Templegate Publishers, 1998. Graef, Hilda. Writings of Edith Stein. Westminster, Maryland: Newman Press, 1956. Herbstrith, Waltraud. Edith Stein: A Biography. San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1985¯ ¯ Never Forget¯ Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1998. Oben, Freda Mary, PhD. Edith Stein: Scholar, Feminist, Saint¯ Staten Island: Review for Religious Alba House, 1988). Oesterreicher, John M. Walls Are Crumbling. London: Hollis and Carter, 1953. Pp. 288-329. Woodward, Kenneth L. Making Saints: How the Catholic Church Determines Who Becomes a Saint, Who Doesn't, and Why. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1990. Pp. 135-144. Also articles in various periodicals such as America, London Tablet, Spiritual Life, and Carmelite Digest. In Passing In the morning when Jesus walked with the disciples by his side, he encountered the wildflowers, the grains of wheat caught by the breeze, and the songbirds that greeted him with their unending hosannas. Now as I stroll past the flowers , their colors brightening my path and the trees 'beckoning to me to partake of the lilting songs of birds hidden in their branches, I recall all Jesus said and did as he walked the roads of this life, and I try to keep his great love, compassion and zest for life in the tabernacle of my heart. Neil C. Fitzgerald ~dy-August 1999 C. WALKER GOLLAR At Home by the Sea: Isabel Green SCN and the House of Prayer Experience Teponymous hero of Richard Bach's 1970 book Jonathan ingston Seagull at one point employs a rare maneuver in order to test two other seagulls that caught his eye. Jonathan pre-viously has been obsessed with speed, but, upon seeing these two unusual birds, Jonathan "twisted his wings land] .slowed to a sin-gle mile per hour above stall, [but then, much to his surprise, the] two radiant birds slowed with him, smoothly, locked in position. They knew about slow flying.''1 Like Jonathan Livingston Seagull, the Catholic female reli-gious orders of the 1940s and '50s could demonstrate great skill along with an increasing level of professionalism. As institutions they flew at top speeds, even though their abundance of ritual, order, and bureaucracy often seemed to stray far from their sim-ple beginnings. In the 1960s the Second Vatican Council chal-lenged communities of religious not only to get in touch with their roots, but also to recultivate the equivalent of slow flying, that is, prayer and contemplation. One directive that accompanied this challenge called for the creation of houses of prayer. Several men, including Bernard H~iring, Thomas Merton, and David Steindl- Rast, promoted the idea, but religious women effectively saw to its realization. The House of Prayer Movement grew, not out of a set of theological concepts, but rather out of the very real efforts C. Walker Gollar, an assistant professor of church history, writes from the Department of Theology; Xavier University; 3800 Victory Parkway; Cincinnati, Ohio 45207. Review for Religious of women looking to be regrafted onto their ministry's spiritual roots. The progress made by one woman will illustrate how this prayer initiative enriched not only her life, but also the lives of thousands of other religious women heeding the call of the Second Vatican Council. Eleanor Isabel Green was born on 19 June 1921 in Lebanon, Kentucky, the third child and first daughter of Nell Churchill Putnam Green. Nell's husband, a local dentist named William Spalding Green, died in 1926 of a rare heart condition at the age of forty-three, when Isabel was only five. Isabel's mother never remarried; she raised her five children largely by herself. On Sunday evening, 3 November 1935, when only fourteen, Isabel was in a car accident that resulted in the amputation of her right leg below the knee. By all accounts she quickly accepted this hand-icap as part of God's plan and then got on with her life. She grad-uated from St. Augustine High School in Lebanon in June 1938 and then enrolled at Nazareth College, nineteen miles away, at the Motherhouse of the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth, Kentucky, just north of Bardstown. Sister Catherine Spalding After her second year, the school's chaplain, Father James McGee, persuaded Isabel to become a novice with the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth. She professed vows on 19 July 1941. Her ancestors included the Spalding family of old Kentucky. Archbishop Martin John Spalding of Baltimore and Bishop John Lancaster Spalding of Peoria, Illinois, were her uncles from two different generations. Because of these connections, Isabel was the first sister in the order allowed to assume the name of their foundress, Mother Catherine Spalding, a cousin of Archbishop Spalding. As Sister Catherine Spalding, Isabel immediately fell into the busyness of religious life. Heeding an older nun's advice that "it's better to wear out than to rust out," over the next quar-ter of a century Isabel served the college as registrar, treasurer, dean, financial-aid advisor, director of admissions, and alumnae and public-relations director.2 She recalled that all these skills, and many others as well, were learned "on the.job.''3 During these years, by her own account, she "worked with and dealt with all kinds of people in all kinds of situations--young and old, reli-gious and lay, foreigners and American, black, white, yellow, and July-August 1999 Gollar ¯ /It Home by the Sea red, rich and poor, socially elite and simple, professionals, etc.''4 Into the 1960s she served, in effect, as president of the college even though she did not hold the title. As tireless service to others began to take its toll on Isabel, she listened intently to the admonitions of her neighbor, the Trappist monk Thomas Merton of Gethsemani, which is located just a few miles from Nazareth. "We have to learn to commune with our-selves," he explained, "before we can communicate with other men [and women] and with God.''s At the same time, however, Merton insisted that we become our true selves only through identification with God as the reason and fulfillment of our exis-tence. This identification emerged out of what Merton called "active contemplation."6 Like countless other religious women at this time, Isabel had become highly professional; to use Merton's terminology, she gained her identity primarily through the actions of her external or false self. She soon came to realize, as Merton had written, that there are "times when in order to keep ourselves in existence at all we simply have to sit back for a while and do nothing.''7 As did many though certainly not all religious, Isabel wel-comed the directives of the Second Vatican Council (1961-1965), which called not only for adaptation to the times; but also for fundamental renewal in the religious life. The Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life (Perfectae caritatis) indi-cated that religious should be thoroughly prepared for their min-istry and also be afforded the opportunity and time for ongoing spiritual, doctrinal, and professional development. Such growth must include a "continuous return to the sources of all Christian life," including Scripture and the Eucharist. As Merton had already argued~ this decree likewise maintained that religious communi-ties should make a genuine commitment not only to apostolic love, but also to contemplation aimed at an "intimate union" with Jesus Christ.8 In response to this conciliar exhortation, theologian Bernard Hiiring CSSR suggested that female orders set aside specific places at each convent that would be devoted to prayer. He had been inspired by Isaiah 56:7: "I will make them joyful in my house of prayer." On 12 March 1967 Marie Goldstein RSHM and Ruth Caspar OP convened a spontaneous workshop at Notre Dame University in order to discuss the feasibility of establishing houses of prayer. Several other sisters, two priests, and one layman Review for Religious attended. The group suggested that these houses should seek to balance the pervasive "thrust towards hyperactivism" with "a cor-responding thrust towards radical prayer." Each house should become a center for the study of mysticism and ascetic theology, including the practice of Yoga and Zen. The spirit of poverty and simplicity should reign, with the houses providing a place for divine energy and peace as well as psychological serenity. With these aims, houses of prayer could constitute, the group said, "one of the greatest hopes for an authentic understanding of church renewal." In the September 1967 issue of Review for Religious, the group published under H~iring's name a report on their meet-ing. H~iring had not attended the gathering at Notre Dame, though he was supportive of the proceedings. His name certainly added weight to the report.9 A New Apostolate Thomas Merton's death at Bangkok on 10 December 1968 accelerated Isabel's own movement away from the convent into a house of prayer. Almost exactly one year earlier, Isabel's mother had passed away. With a heavy heart Isabel attended Merton's funeral in Kentucky, then~reevaluated the course of her own life. After twenty-three years of service to the college, Isabel concluded that she had given all she wan~ed to give to the field of'education. Following the directives of Merton, she asked her community for time to pray. In her late forties, she was overworked and, as she said, was "tired." She knew that the college was going to close anyway, but.also sensed a growing need to care for her own spirit. Completely of her own accord she resigned from the position at Nazareth College in Januai'y 1969. The school closed two years later. ~0 From January to June she lived with a group of Sisters of Charity of Nazareth at the Cardinal Cushing Hospital in Brockton, Massachusetts, where, besides praying, she studied what some were calling HOPE, which stood for House of Prayer Experience. At the end of this time she spent seven weeks in a House of Prayer program sponsored by the Sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary in Monroe, Michigan. Under the direction of Margaret Brennan and Ann Chester, the IHM sisters had taken the lead in this move-ment. The seven-week program, called HOPE '69, terminated with a retreat under Bernard H~iring. He considered his presence at July-Augv~st 1999 Gollar ¯ At Home by the Sea the end to be providential. After the 136 participants had been living in fourteen different locations for seven weeks, H~iring cel-ebrated the fact that these women had brought to life houses of prayer on their own. During the concluding retreat, one woman suggested that a priest should h'ave been part of each house. To this, H~iring emphatically answered: No-o-o. You are too prone to rely on a priest. This House of Prayer is your charism. Use your own ingenuity to develop it. The best way to produce something new is to trust the charism of those involved, as they are open to the Spirit and to one another. The Holy Spirit does not work through inflexible people.'ll Some men did get involved in the movement, certainly~contributed excellent work, and provided important insights. Ann Chester nonetheless contended "that the leadership in the movement and the main development have been the work of women religious."12 After the experience in Monroe, Isabel ct)nvinced the' Sisters of Charity of Nazareth to offer their support. The 1969 chapter commissioned her to introduce, over six months beginning in September, the House of Prayer Movement to all 110 communi-ties in the order. She stirred up great interest and then, from February to June 1970, while residing back at St. Joseph's Infirmary in Louisville, continued extensive planning. That sum-mer she coordinated the running of~ fourteen houses of. prayer open to various religious communities in the Archdiocese of Louisville. In September 1970 she accepted a two-year grant from the Center for Spiritual Studies at Mount Saviour Benedictine Monastery in Elmira, New York, to assist Brother David Steindl- Rast in the House of Prayer Movement. She lived at the monastery for three months. Gloucester During this time Isabel and Brother David searched for a suit-able place0.for another house of prayer that might s.erve a range of active orders beyond the Sisters of Charity. Since 1957 'the Jesuits had offered high school retreats for boys at Gonzaga, a revamped turn-of-the-century stone mansion that overlooked Brace Cove and the Atlantic Ocean at Eastern Point: in Gloucester, Massachusetts. Next to the retreat house Isabel and Brother David spied a five-bedroom servants' outbuilding that had stood virtually Review for Religious unused for many years. In December 1970 they secured permission from the Jesuits to rent this space for a house of prayer. Isabel and Brother David invited two religious women not of the Sisters of Charity, a Catholic layman, and a Jewish expert in Hatha Yoga, Ravi Baumann, to be a part of the first core group. Over the next few months this team gradually established prayerful routines, while they also cleaned and rearranged the house. Then in late May 1971 Isabel bade adieu to Brother David and the initial core team, which by this time not only had readied the place for its first real guests, but also had begun to discuss what the permanent thrust of the house should be. They had agreed that the door would be open to anyone who wished to come anytime throughout the year, though special emphasis would be placed on the summer, when presum-ably more people could get away from their jobs. Individuals who could stay for up to a year might be asked to become part of new core teams that would take special responsibility for run-ning the house. No 'set fees were charged, though guests would be invited to make donations to help cover operating expenses. In the summer of 1971, for the first time at Gloucester, Isabel sponsored two five-week summer experiences. Seven sisters from at least four different orders con-stituted the first group; several religious men joined other sisters during the second session. They came from all over North America. After this time Isabel decided upon the four essential aspects of her house: simplicity, silence, prayer, and hospitality. Isabel decided upon the four essential aspects of her house: simplicity, silence, prayer, and hospitality. Essential Aspects of the House of Prayer Simplicity was apparent in the furnishing and the free atmo-sphere. The house had no frills, no bedspreads, and no curtains other than fishnet draped across curtain rods. Lobster traps served as tables, while carpet samples donated by a local store decorated the floors of the upstairg hallway and chapel. Since many of the guests who would visit over the next fifteen years left incredibly busy schedules to come to Gloucester, Isabel tried her best to ~u~-August1999 Gollar * At Home by the Sea uncomplicate things for them. "Of intent purpose," she once explained, "not much 'busyness' or 'business' goes on here.''~3 Freed from their jobs and left without much to do, many guests eventually discovered new freedom. Sisters, brothers, priests, and an increasing number of laypersons often found their inner selves again at Gloucester. One woman wrote, "For the first time in my life, I feel free--free to be me.''~4 The simplicity of Gloucester encouraged persons to uncover their true selves in an environ-ment that sanctioned doing nothing. Beyond the simple environment, for Isabel the key to the House of Prayer was the pervasiveness of what she called "life-giv-ing silence." ~s This was not, as a core member once explained, a matter of waiting for what was going to happen next, but rather "a happening in itself."'6 Such silence was rarely found in bustling convents, even though in Isabel's mind silence constituted every-one's "birthright." Conversation at the House of Prayer was lim-ited to the noon meal, while TVs and typewriters were nowhere to be found. One telephone was available, though out of sight in a closet underneath the main stairwell. "If you're going to talk to God," Isabel insisted, "then it's easier when you're not talking to someone else at the same time." ~v The house provided quiet space and time for theological reflection and prayerful discernment, so that visitors might, in Isabel's words, "look at and attempt to answer the questions we all are asking ourselves.''~8 Silence at Gloucester effectively b~came a means to communication both with yourself and with others. One priest, for example, while at the House of Prayer faced for the first time what he called his "shat-tered self." Out on the rocks he discovered "that I was deeply afraid of death and very angry at a 'god' who took my parents in the prime of their lives." He voiced this anger, then in faith began to see that death was not the end he had so desperately feared?9 Other guests often emerged out of their silence, needing to talk to Isabel, and she gladly lent her ear. The group conversations at the noon meal were especially enriching. The Eastern Point House of Prayer never had a name, though, after reading Trina Paulus's Hope for the Flowers,. Isabel once considered calling the place the "Cocoon House.'! Many visitors left Gloucester like beautiful butterflies, reinvigorated and sometimes transformed. Temporary retreat from life's incessant demands encouraged more spirit-filled worldly work.2° In a simple and silent environment, the Eastern Point House Review for Religious of Prayer became, in Isabel's words, primarily "a community of praying people who live in praise of the Lord all day, every day.''2~ In contrast to the complicated, impersonal rote prayers of the con-vent, Isabel encouraged simple encounters with God. Brother David had helped her distinguish between the "prayers" that often get in the way of prayer, and "prayer" as the "total confrontation of the human heart with God.''22 During her months of prepara-tion, Isabel had searched the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures for every name that could be attributed to Jesus and then arranged these titles with a Hare Krishna chant used by Eastern yogis. At Gloucester, with the gong of a melodious bowl, Isabel called guests to gather in the chapel to greet the sunrise, bless the water, and invite God into their hearts with the chanting of this Jesus prayer. This ritual was repeated at noon and often at compline around the living-room fireplace. Each session of prayer ended with the chant "Om shanti," a cry for peace. One core member spoke for many others when she explained that, before her year at Gloucester, prayer "was something I had to do and did, but it seemed never to mean much." After her visit the Jesus prayer became a vital part of her life.23 Many religious traditions met at Gloucester. A small menorah burned in the chapel during Hanukkah, while yoga was adapted to Christianity in order to enrich experiences of prayer. Isabel explained that yoga could be practiced by anyone regardless of his or her faith, for yoga simply encourages relaxation and emotional integration. At this time a Congregational minister and frequent visitor to the House of Prayer, R. Cameron Borton from nearby Rockport, Massachusetts, was happy to note that, while many young persons were leaving Christianity in pursuit of Eastern reli-gions, the House of Prayer demonstrated a way in which both tra-ditions could be integrated. Catholic liturgies were celebrated on most afternoons; these liturgies were, in Isabel's words. "really different.''24 A small group of participants gathered on pillows around a squared piece of drift-wood used as the altar. Gifts from~the sea, as well as a portrait of Robert Kennedy, decorated the walls. The celebrant, wearing only minimal vestments, encouraged everyone to participate especially in the shared homilies. Openly expressing individual concerns kept participants in touch with the larger world community. During these services Reverend Borton witnessed what he called "the Catholic Church in a way free from the overpowering structures, July-August 1999 Gollar ¯ At Home by the Sea massive institudonalism, and impersonalism I had come to associate with the Catholic Church." He saw the House of Prayer as "a very crucial ecumenical bridge for these reasons.''2s To foster reconciliation within the Catholic community, Isabel still insisted that the Eucharist be available for perpetual adoration. For the alarming number of Catholics who had grown alienated from the church during or after the Second Vatican Council, the Eastern Point House of Prayer was a safe place to come. Broken individuals, as well as those simply searching for something more, came to Gloucester. Often, in the chapel before the Eucharist, new direction was found among sisters who might otherwise have lost their vocation, lay people whose only thread of contact with the church was provided at the House of Prayer, and priests in search of the contemplative roots of their ministry. Everyone was welcome at Gloucester. Rooted in Isaiah 55, -Ish_.bel extended her hospitality: "Oh, come to the water, all you who are thirsty; though you have no money, come!. Listen, lis-ten to me, and you will have good things to eat and rich food to enjoy. Pay attention, come to me; listen, and your soul will live." A wide range of persons visited the House of Prayer, including, according to Isabel's ~ecollection, "blacks, Jews, orientals, hus-bands and wives, [the divorced, widowed, and alcoholic], children, married deacons, ministers (both men and women), priests, reli-gious, [seminarians, Pax Christi groups, and Catholic Worker peo-ple].'' 26 As one outsider observed, coming to Eastern Point seemed easy--it was the leaving that was hard.27 Most visitors agreed with one woman who remarked that at Gloucester "I was home.''2~ Wider Significance , With this spirit of simplicity, silence, prayer, and hospitality, the Eastdrn Point House of Prayer quickly became known all .around the country. Brother David had gone on to inspire many other houses of prayer, yet still acclaimed Gloucester as "one of the most successful realizations of the House of Prayer idea.''29 Like most observers, Brother D~vid attributed much of the success of Eastern Point to Isabel's own unique gifts. She was able to inspire many persons who had ~received their "basic training" at Gloucester to start other houses of prayer across the United States and in Canada, Chile, and Ireland as well. Though the House of Prayer Movement lost some steam by the early 1980s, with many houses Review for Relig'ious closing or changing focus, Isabel reported to the Jesuits that over the years very little had changed at Gloucester. She had always been able to maintain the original purpose of the house. The House of Prayer breathed new life into the Jesuit Retreat House next door and also supported other communities like the Wellspring House, started in Gloucester in 1981 by several persons including lay theologian Rosemary Haughton. Occasionally Wellspring did not have enough room to put up some homeless men. Wellspring's director, Nancy Schworer, asked Isabel to help out; Despite her suspi-cion that the Jesuits would not approve, Isabel told Schworer to bring them over, but to cut her lights when she pulled up to the House of Prayer. "I did," Schworer said.3° The Jesuits still grew suspicious of Isabel. Over the years the Jesuits periodically challenged Isabel's use of the property, but despite some battles her days at Eastern Point remained vibrant until she was diag-nosed with terminal cancer in 1985. That summer her family brought her back to Kentucky, to the Nazareth Home in Louisville, where she spent her last days. Once the Jesuits realized she would never return to Gloucester, they began to reno-vate the House of Prayer, eventually mak-ing it an extension of the retreat house, which is what it remains to this day. The Jesuits defended this readaptation, explaining that no one could replace Isabel. Still, the decision to close the House of Prayer must have been linked to periodic suspicions regarding the creative community that existed on their property but was effectively out of their control. Because of its radical openness to God, the House of Prayer invited renewal in ways that undoubt-edly seemed threatening to certain entrenched church str~ctures. Isabel passed away on Wednesday, 15 January 1986. Order was restored at Gloucester, but a certain creativity was lost. In his 1977 novel, Illusions, Richard Bach tells of a creature that dared to let go of the twigs and rocks on the river bottom to which all other creatures previously had clung. The current lifted him free. Thomas Merton, Bernard H~ring, David Steindl-Rast, and the fathers of the Second Vatican Council called for change, To foster reconciliation within the Catholic community, Isabel insisted that the Eucharist be available for perpetual adoration. July-August 1999 Gollar ¯ At Home by the Sea but people in houses of prayer, especially women like Isabel Green, realized the anticipated renewal. Many guests let go of their busy-ness, put behind the patriarchal structures of the past, and tran-scended traditional Catholic boundaries in search of deeper knowledge of themselves. Visitors to houses of prayer replaced detached, regulated prayers with intimate encounters with God, and with all of creation too, especially those who were struggling for personal and social integrity. In. so doing these guests discov-ered new possibilities for their ministries. Like Richard, Bach's courageous river creature, Isabel Green sounded the good news of the Second Vatican Council when, in the silence of the. Eastern Point House of Prayer, she announced: "The [water] delights to lift us free, if only we dare let go.''3~ Notes ~ Richard Bach, Jonathan Livingston Seagull, A Story (New York: Macmillan, 1970), p. 46. 2 Isabel Green papers (hereafter IGP), Isabel Green to Katie Pumam, 10 February 1948, Nazareth, Kentucky. Isabel Green is the aunt of the author of this article; he inherited her papers. 3 IGP, Talk to Jesuits, 7 February 1983 (hereafter Talk), p. 1. 4 IGP, 1974 Resum~ for Brian Duffy SJ, p. 1. 5 Thomas Merton, No Man Is an Island (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World, 1955), p. 120. 6 Thomas Merton, Woods, Shore, Desert: A Notebook, May 1960 (Santa Fe: Museum of New Mexico Press, 1982), 6 May, p. 10. 7 Thomas Merton, No Man lsan Island, p. 122. 8 Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life (Perfectae caritatis), §§2 and 8. 9 Bernard H~iring, "A Contemplative House: Notes from a Discussion Held at Notre Dame," Review for Religious 26, no. 5 (September 1967): 772; and H~iring, Acting on the Word: The Challenge to Religious Communities in an Age of Renewal (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1968), p. 204. H~ring's book reprinted part of the article and added a few new insights. 10 IGP, Talk, p. 1. " Quoted in Ann Chester, My Journey in the House of Prayer (Monroe, Michigan: Pathways Press, 1991), p. 42. ~2 Chester, MyJourney~ p. 16. ~3 IGP, Open letter of solicitation for "testimonials," by Isabel Green SCN, November 1973, Gloucester, Massachusetts. Review for Religious ~4 IGP, Ann to Isabel Green SCN, 22 January 1975, no place. ~3 IGP, General Statement by Isabel Green SCN directed to Sisters of Charity of Nazareth, 26 February 1984 (hereafter General Statement). ~6 IGP, Michael van der Peer SCJ to Isabel Green SCN, 7 January 1975, Milwaukee, Wisconsin. ~7 Quoted in Gloucester Community News, "Nuns Rise at Dawn for Daily Yoga," 21 November 1975. ~8 IGP, General Statement. 19 IGP, Sister Darlene Kern to Isabel Green SCN, 3 January 1975, St. Pius X Convent, Billings, Montana. 20 IGP, Michael Guimon OSM to Isabel Green SCN, 20 January 1975, Detroit, Michigan. 2~ IGP, Janet L. SSJ to Isabel Green SCN, 11 January 1975, Providence, Rhode Island. 22 IGP, Janine to Isabel Green SCN, undated (c. 1 January 1975). 23 Isabel Green, "Eastern Shoreside House of Prayer," SCNews (April 1973), p. 4; Tina Paulus, Hope for the Flowers (New York: Paulist Press, 1972). 24 IGP, Talk, p. 4 zs Steindl-Rast, "Prayer in the Twenty-first Century," Audiotape by Credence Cassettes, AA2566, 1992. 26 IGP, Jean Kilvin to Isabel Green SCN, 2 February 1975, Halifax, Nova Scotia. 27 IGP, Talk, p. 8. 2.8 IGP, Reverend R. Camer~)n Borton to Isabel Green SCN, 20 January 1975, Rockport, Massachusetts. 29 IGP, Talk, p. 9. Some well-known theologians including Avery Dulles visited the Eastern Point House of Prayer. 30 "At Home by the Sea: Intercommunity Prayer, Often Interfaith Too," Crux of Prayer, February 1976. 3~ IGP, Sheila Ford SCN to Isabel GreenSCN, January 1975, Eastern Point House of Prayer, Gloucester. 32 IGP, David Steindl-Ra~t OSB to Isabel G~'een SCN, 5 January 1975, West Tremont, Maine. 33 Phone interview with Nancy Schworer, 3 March 1998. 34 Richard Bach, Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah (New York: Dell Publishing Co., 1977), p. 17. 57uly-August 1999 consecrated lile DENNIS J. BILLY Vita Consecrata and the Anthropology of the Vows In Vita consecrata (1996), his postsynodal apostolic exhor-tatioff on the consecrated life, Pope John Paul II writes of "the profound anthropological significance of the coun-sels" (§87). He does so while treating the prophetic stance of the consecrated life before some of the difficult chal-lenges facing the church today. This explicit statement of the intricate connection between the theology of the counsels and the character of human existence makes the phrase one of the most important in the entire docu-ment. In it the pope bids us to note not only how the vows relate to our self-understanding, but also how, through them, human understanding itself can be transz formed. My purpose in this essay is to draw out some of the implications of this key anthropological statement. The Right Question What we think about the vows and how we live them tells us something about how we view ourselves and the world we live in. This has always been the case, even long ago in the church's .past when philosophical and theological justifications of the counsels thrived that now seem somewhat dubious and even embarrassing. At one Dennis J. Billy CSSR, a frequent contributor, writes again from Rome, where his address is Accademia Alfonsiana; C.P. 2458; 00100 Roma, Italy. Review for Religio us time, for example, the counsels were seen as a way of rising above the material dimension of human existence and escaping the bonds that the physical world placed on us--including our own sexuality. Lives of perfect chastity, poverty, and obedience were thought to lead religious to a higher plane of existence where they could over-come'bodily passions and be free of attachments to family, pos-sessions, and self-will. Such a conception of the counsels was supported by an ethi-cal dualism in the church's understanding of human existence that manifested itself in a deep distrust of the body and bodily pas-sions. This deep-seated suspicion predated but was galvanized by Augustine's doctrine of original sin, which affirmed its orthodoxy, on the one hand, by condemning the Gnostic equation of matter with evil and Gnostic ascetic rigor and, on the other, by main-taining a close association between sin and sexual intercourse. Traces of this pessimistic estimation of the body and bodily passion (what Augustine called "concupiscence") have filtered through the church's historical memory and continue to exert a subtle influence on our reception and understanding of the counsels. This is so even though many of the anthropological assumptions that presently guide our theological understanding of the vows (and of the doctrine of original sin) are decidedly different. We lack the space to go into any of these assumptions in detail. My point, however, is very simple. In the church's past, every the-ology of the counsels has made certain anthropological assump-tions. The more we are aware of them, the better we can examine them and discern whether they are appropriate expressions of our own self-understanding. The counsels have had and will always have a deep anthropological significance. The question we need to pose is: Which anthropology and what significance? We need to ask these questions today. Vita Consecrata In his apostolic exhortation, the pope describes the anthro-pological significance of the vows in this way: The decision to follow the counsels, far from involving an impoverishment o~ truly human values, leads instead to their transformation. The evangelical counsels should not be considered as a denial of the values inherent in sexual° ity, in the legitimate desire to possess material goods or July-August 1999 Billy * Vita Consecrata and the Anthropology of the Vows to make decisions for oneself. Insofar as these inclinations are based on nature, they are good in themselves. Human beings, however, weakened as they are by original sin, run the risk of acting on them in a way which transgresses the moral norms. The profession of chastity, poverty, and obe-dience is a warning not to underestimate the wound of original sin and, while affirming the value of created goods, it relativizes them by pointing to God as the absolute good. Thus, while those who follow the evangelical counsels seek holiness for themselves, they propose, so to speak, a spir-itual "therapy" for humanity, because they reject the idol-atry of anything created and in a certain way they make visible the living God. The consecrated life, especially in difficult times, is a blessing for human life and for the life of the church. (§87) In this passage John Paul affirms the fundamental goodness of human sexuality, material possessions, and human freedom. At the same time he recognizes the capacity each of us has by reason of our weakened state to abuse these basic human goods and even to idolize them. VChat the evangelical counsels do.is "cut them down to size" by referring them to God, the absolute good of human life, and thus diminishing the exaggerated worth we may be tempted to place in them. This process offers humanity a "spiritual therapy" which, through the operation of grace, promises to heal its wounds and bring about the transformation of all human values. Unfortunately, the pope does not go into detail about how this treatment or ther-apy might function. Nor does he tell us the extent to which this rel-ativizing process takes place. By invoking God as the absolute good to which the counsels point, he simply reminds us that human existence is not an end in itself, but is actually oriented beyond itself. It is precisely by looking beyond itself that humanity is able to discover its truest, deepest meaning. In this presentation of the counsels, the pope affirms (1) the fundamental goodness of all creation, (2) the weakness (and not total corruption) of human nature due to original sin, (3) the abso-lute goodness of God, who alone is worthy of our praise and ado-ration, (4) the eschatological orientation of the vows, which relativize human existence by pointing beyond it and by empha-sizing its inherent creaturely status, and (5) the specific anthro-pological orientation of the vows by virtue of their therapeutic (that is, healing) and transformative (that is, elevating) effect on Review for Religious people's lives. Each of these affirmations is both theological and anthropological in orientation. Together they draw the parame-ters within which the counsels are to be understood and assimilated in our lives. Together they remind us that we are wounded crea-tures capable of being healed and elevated by the grace of a truly plentiful redemption. Within this context the pope speaks about three major chal-lenges facing the church today and how the consecrated life has a prophetic role to play in responding to each of them. The first challenge is "that of a hedonistic culture which separates sexuality from all objective norms, often treating it as a mere diversion and a consumer good and, with the complicity of the means of social communication, justifying a kind of idolatry of the sexual instinct" (§88). Consecrated persons, he states, respond to such values by showing through their lives of chastity that it is possible "to love God with all one's heart, putting him above every other love, and thus to love every creature with the freedom of God" (§88). The second challenge is "that of a materialism which cravespos-sessions, heedless of the needs and sufferings of the weakest, and lacking any concern for the balance of natural resources" (§89). Here again, consecrated persons respond by a life of evangelical poverty, which attests "that God is the true wealth of the human heart" and which "forcefully challenges the idolatry of money, making a prophetic appeal as it were to society, which in so many parts of the developed world risks losing the sense of proportion and the very meaning of things" (§90). The third challenge "comes from those notions of freedom which separate this fundamental human good from its essential relationship to the truth and to moral norms" (§91). To this, con-secrated persons respond th.rough a life which "reproposes the obedience of Christ to the Father and., testifies that there is no contradiction between obedience and freedom" (§91). Consecrated per-sons, in other words, respond to the challenges facing the church in today's world through lives dedicated to the evangelical coun-sels. They do so not alone, but through life in community. This is especially important, since community is "the particular sign, before church and society, of the bond which comes from the same call and the common desire--notwithstanding differences of race and origin, language and culture--to be obedient to that call" (§92). Life in community is nbt only an aid to living the counsels, but also a sign of that toward which both church and July-August 1999 Billy ¯ Vita Consecrata and the Anthropology of the Vows society are tending. It forges the vows into an eschatological sign of the kingdom that is, at one and the same time, already here and yet to come. Further Integration Although the pope provides many fine insights into the anthro-pological dimensions of the consecrated life and the prophetic response it makes to the challenges facing the church today, I can-not help feeling that even further development of his fundamen-tal insights is possible and even necessary for a more thorough understanding of the vows. I would see this development taking place in five basic anthropological dimensions of human existence: the physical, the emotional, the mental, the spiritual, and the social. The Physical. The counsels make sense only if they have a con-crete, physical expression in the world. If they do not, then con-secrated persons need to ask themselves if they are only pretending to lead lives of chastity, poverty, and obedience. It is very easy to talk about the counsels. It is much more difficult to live them and to insure that they have repercussions in the concrete circum-stances of one's life. I am not going into what these concrete expressions might be. They are probably clearer for some counsels (chastity) than others (poverty and obedience)--although not nec-essarily. My point is that we need to take the physical, bodily expressions of the vows seriously. Consecrated persons are called to be chaste, to be poor, to be obedient; and this should be obvi-ous to other people by the lives we lead. We need to be careful not to fall into the trap of self-deception. It is easy for us to ratio-nalize the compromises we make with the counsels. If we are not careful, we can end up being chaste, poor, and obedient in name only. We are called to much more than that. The Emotional. The physical expression of the counsels, how-ever, would be cold and void of meaning if our hearts were not in it. The emotional side of human existence is very complex and, to many, extremely threatening. It too needs to be integrated in a life dedicated to the counsels. If it is not, then there is a strong possibility that we will end up leading double lives, where our out-ward actions do not correspond with our deepest feelings and emo-tions. Integrating our emotions is a lifelong process. One of the mistakes that institutes of consecrated life have made in the past and which, sad to say, some continue to make is to repress or (per- Review for Religious haps worse) completely ignore this dimension of human existence. Like others, consecrated persons need to be taught how to deal with their emotions--those which help them deepen their com-mitment, as well as those which could weaken it--and integrate them into their life commitments. If they are not taught this, they run the risk of just going through the motions or perhaps not even bothering with them. Consecrated persons who have not learned how to integrate their emotions with the rest of their lives are usually very unhappy people who do a good job of making other people unhappy. They can be difficult to get along with in community. The Intellectual. It is important also that we reflect on the counsels regularly--both individually and as a group. Consecrated persons need to keep abreast of the latest developments in the psychological and social sciences with a view to understand-ing more profoundly their own charism within the church. The theology of the counsels has undergone a great deal of change down through the years, especially since the end of the Second Vatican Council. It shall continue to change. If we fail to reflect upon the meaning the counsels have for us, if we fail to read what theologians and spiritual writers are saying about them, if we fail to talk about them among ourselves, then we run the risk of isolating our vowed commitments from the rest of life. When this happens, we can easily get stuck in old patterns of expression that do not help us meet the challenges of the day. Consecrated persons need to be creative in the way they give witness in the world through the counsels. Theological reading, reflection, and conversation are ways of insuring that such ideas will come to us and find expression in our lives and ministry. It is a mistake to think, for example, that religious learn everything they need to know about the vows during the novitiate. In these matters there needs to be lifelong growth; the intellectual component of that growth should not be overlooked. The Spiritual. Consecrated persons also need to be still and let their spirits yearn for God. It is in the deepest dimension of the self that the Spirit of God communes with consecrated persons' own spirits; it is there that they can find strength for living their Consecrated persons need to be creative in the way they give witness in the world through the counsels. ~uly-August 1999 Billy ¯ Vita Consecrata and the Anthropology of the Vows We are social beings by nature. We become who we are called to be through our interaction with others. vowed life. By professing the evangelical counsels, consecrated per-sons seek to follow in the footsteps of Jesus. This life of imitation is not meant to be a cold, external effort.'We are much too weak for that. Rather, it involves an intimate relationship with the Spirit of Jesus, which propels us to live the way he did and to do so with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength. For this to happen, conse-crated people need to be men and women of contemplation. Surely there are many forms of prayer; both as individuals and as communities, we favor certain ones. Among these forms we should not forget the contemplative dimension of our lives. On the contrary, we should give it priority of place. If we do not allow ourselves to be still and to listen, if we do not know how to allow our spirits to yearn, to groan, to breathe, then we are overlooking in our prayer a tremendous help in living the counsels. It is through contemplation that we gradually tame, and integrate into the rest of our lives, the deep, inordi-nate passions that affect us by reason of our weakened state. Through contemplation our spirits gradually become chaste, poor, and obedient to the movements of the Holy Spirit in our lives. Without it, it will become all the more difficult for us to live "in the Spirit" and to see how our vows fit into such a life. The Social. We live the vows individually, but also in community. Consecrated persons cannot go it alone. They need the support of others to help them along. They should be encouraged to have close, intimate friends with whom they feel free and secure enough to share their problems and difficulties. They also need the support of a wider circle of friends and acquaintances. Most of all, they need community. We are social beings by nature. We learn about ourselves and we become who we are called to be through our interaction with others. It is through our interaction with others that we learn the meaning of the counsels and receive help to live them. Consecrated persons are oriented toward community life because the counsels themselves are rooted in a communal under-standing of human existence. If we overlook the social dimensions of our lives as consecrated persons, it is almost certain that we will be overlooking in our lives some aspect of what it means to be chaste, poor, and obedient. Living the counsels and living in com-munity are closely tied. This holds true even for the hermit, who Review for Religious lives alone, but whose life and actions lie hidden in the contem-plative heart of the church. These dimensions are important for living the counsels. That is not to say, however, that they will be understood and incorpo-rated in the same degree in every life dedicated to living them. Differences in personality, family background, and cultural prove-nance all come into play, as do such other factors as level of edu-cation, religious training, and long-standing community traditions. The goal for consecrated persons should be to try to integrate all of these elements into their lives, adverting to them and giving them appropriate expression. To overlook some of them or, worse, simply to refuse to take them into account reveals a severe defi-ciency in living the life of the counsels. Counsels and Challenges All of this helps us to view John Paul's emphasis on the anthro-pological dimensions of the counsels and the challenges facing the church today in a slightly different light. For one thing, it helps us to see the challenge beneath the challenges that face consecrated persons in the church today. The counsels must penetrate every part of our lives, not simply those we find most convenient or accommodating to our needs. We will not be able to give a true prophetic response to the hedonism, materialism, and individual-ism in the world today if we exclude the counsels from any of the dimensions I have mentioned--the physical, the emotional, the intellectual, the spiritual, and the social. If we do, we compart-mentalize the counsels, allowing them to take shape in one or more areas of our lives, but not in all of them. When this hap-pens, we wind up with only a halfhearted commitment to the life of chastity, poverty, and obedience. The result is a diminution of our prophetic call. People will refuse to take us seriously because we do not take ourselves seriously. They will only half-believe the words we say, because they will be convinced that we only half-believe them ourselves. John Paul's reflection on the anthropological significance of the counsels can be applied in a reflective and consistent manner to each of these five dimensions. When this is done, an even deeper sense of the anthropological (ignificance of the counsels results. The goodness of creation, foi" example, extends not only to our physical well-being but to the emotional, the intellectual, the spir- July-August 1999 Billy ¯ Vita Consecrata and the Anthropology of the Vows itual, and the social as well. All of these dimensions, though they are weakened by the results of humanity's primordial fall and seem insignificant in comparison with God the Absolute Good, never-theless have an eschatological significance and hold promise of being both healed and elevated by God's plentiful redeeming grace. It is in these contexts that the counsels deepen our understand-ing of human existence and help us see the whole of life as radically dependent on God. This is what consecrated persons give witness to, live their lives for, and die for. Tidal Wave - Papua New Guinea 7 July 1998 Deadly as a cobra, hooded wide The tidal wave lifts ten meters And sweeps across the Bay Swallowing tall pandanus palms, Crossed timbers of the villages, Once the necklace of the North. Midst the flotsam and jetsam A woman, one foot torn away, grasps a tree top And suddenly gives birth. A scream. And a small brown babe Is lifted above the swirl. "Oh God[ Where are You?" and the wood replies: "He has known the waves of sin His feet were spiked with pain And He, too, died upon a tree." Mary O'Neil RSM Review for Religious NIHAL ABEYASINGHA Authority among Religious in South Asia T[superior general of a male international religious con-gation, after visiting several units of the insftute in South Asia, said he found it difficult to understand the defiance of author-ity and the backbiting that go on in this area. He added that his lack of understanding of this phenomenon was perhaps due to his own foreign cultural perspective. Such an observation from a man of wide experience should at least pose a question to Asian religious. Every culture functions on certain assumptions. They are sel-dom clearly articulated, but they are real and they are operative. For example, in a culture that links equality with freedom, there is a growing awareness that men have, in fact, been afforded greater freedom than women. In order to repair the imbalance, people seek to equalize the position of the sexes by using equality as their criterion. It is not difficult to generate enthusiasm in the public forum for a movement towards equality. Another culture, however, could work from a different assumption. It could consider women to be worthy of much esteem as members of society because of their special role to give birth to and nurture new life in that society. This culture would express that esteem by providing the security of a stable mar-riage and home and by linking this to a limited set of achieve-ments expected of every woman. VChat we tend to forget is that Nihal Abeyasingha CSSR wrote about an approach to refounding in our July-August 1998 issue. Hi

Interview with Atillio and Robert Antonioni. Atillio is an attorney in Leominster, MA and Robert is a Massachusetts legislator. Topics include: The family restaurant business: Atillio's mother opened a pizza shop called Lazy A and then the Il Camino. Importance of education for the family. What the neighborhood was like when Atillio was a child. How the neighborhoods in Leominster have changed. Robert was elected to the Leominster city council in 1984 and then went on to become a state representative and senator. What it means to be Italian. Atillio's work as a lawyer in Leominster. ; 1 SPEAKER 1: [Unintelligible - 00:00:03] with the Center for Italian Culture at Fitchburg State College. It's Friday, January 25th, 2002. We're at the Offices of Atillio and Robert Antonioni, 42 Main Street in Leominster. So I'll ask both of you to um, just tell me your name just so I can… ATILLIO: Atillio Antionioni. ROBERT: I'm Robert – Robert A. Antonioni. SPEAKER 1: Okay, usually I interview people [unintelligible - 00:00:33] closer and then back to you. I was telling your father that I've interviewed a lot of people in your family, okay. So I got a lot of the history from your brother as far as your mother and the restaurant business and – and uh, I thought it would be interesting if you could just tell me your memories of that, um, not necessarily dates because I really have that but just your memory of uh, her opening the restaurants and – and cooking. I believe she began with pizza? ATILLIO: Yes. Yes, she did uh, prepare pizza for the various people at the uh, the Dupont Facility that is back of us down there on Lancaster Street and the business to get into. We used to drive through the center of Leominster at night and there was the – that was a line outside there and she always felt that if uh, they could do it, she could do it. And so uh, they did. They opened a restaurant down there on Lancaster Street, the Lazy A. It was lazy because they worked very long hours but uh, we did have the restaurant there. That was when I uh, back at college at Holy Cross. We, she commuted to school each day and then worked in the restaurant at night. My brother and I used to alternate nights there working in the restaurant, everything. We were chief-cooking, [bottle] washers. We would uh, help cook the food, prepare it, uh, uh, clean up. I mean if it's done in a restaurant, we did it. SPEAKER 1: I guess it's important to know there are reasons for that?2 ATILLIO: The long hours, it's enough to discourage anybody. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ATILLIO: Then we did that one 'bout a number of years there and uh, until my folks retired. But uh, they were out of the business for five years or so, and my mother was always itching to get back in. So they built the El Camino Restaurant down on Central Street – sold the Lazy A, which is now known as the Gondola, sold it to the same people the El Camino that we sold it to. SPEAKER 1: Oh. ATILLIO: So that was extremely important to my mother. Unfortunately, she had to leave school early and go to work. And she was just [unintelligible - 00:02:54] felt that education was extremely important so that she's determined that we were going to go to school. There was no question about that. SPEAKER 1: And idea of when you were in high school, what would a day be like if – well, actually she didn't open up the Lazy A until you were in college. Is that what you said? ATILLIO: Till I graduated from high school. And the Lazy A was opened, I think, in the spring of 1948. After that time, however, we – father used to work at the DuPont. And he would work the 4-12 shift, I mean, because that paid a little money. And at that time, we were – she was also cooking pizzas at home that we would deliver to the Foster, to the cafeteria at the Foster Grand company. And so before I went to school in the morning, we would deliver pizzas there at the Foster Grand and then go to school. So when I was… SPEAKER 1: And when did you study? ATILLIO: Oh, in the afternoon and evenings. Well, I worked in the afternoon. I worked at the A&P. So we worked every afternoon then, but at night, we would study. It was always important to my folks and we did it. SPEAKER 1: Now was it only you and your brother in the family?3 ATILLIO: No, I have two sisters. Margaret and Margaret's husband own the [Volero] Insurance Agency. He passed away several years ago, and she sold it after that. And my sister Janie is [unintelligible - 00:04:31] thirty years, doing accounting work for them. SPEAKER 1: What was life like as a child? Can you tell me about the neighborhood that you lived in? ATILLIO: It was a good neighborhood. Life, I think, was much better for us than for many other families. My mother was an extremely hard worker. She knew how to stretch things considerably so that – I recall going to school during the depression there. There were many other children that weren't well-dressed as well as they could be and so forth, but we always had decent clothes. My mother made a lot of them. We lived on [unintelligible - 00:05:16] Avenue at that time. We had a large yard there, and we had – always had a large vegetable garden. There were fruit trees there and my mother would can all types of vegetables and fruits and things of that nature. So actually, I always thought we lived very well as compared to a lot. SPEAKER 1: Now when you would work in the afternoon, were you expected to put, let's say, the money on the table? ATILLIO: Oh, yes. The money was turned over to my folks. We got spending money, of course, but we turn the money. It was saved and [unintelligible - 00:05:54] so forth. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ATILLIO: I mean they were never using it to – for daily expenses, I'm sure of that. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ATILLIO: I mean they didn't confide in us. That's just the way everything went, but they had to save money in order to send us to school. SPEAKER 1: What kinds of leisure activities were you involved in?4 ATILLIO: In those days, we did a lot of visiting, obviously, because you didn't have any television. It was visiting with relatives and friends and playing with other children and so forth. And my father's club had an outing every year at Sima Park at Fitchburg, which was a big event and so forth. We go on picnics. We went on many of picnic at the [unintelligible - 00:06:40] Park. It was very enjoyable. But mainly, it was visiting with relatives and friends. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm, were you living in a predominantly Italian neighborhood? ATILLIO: Oh, no. We used to call it the League of Nations that was – there were Italian people there, but there were Irish, German, French –there was everybody. SPEAKER 1: At Longwood Avenue? ATILLIO: Yes. SPEAKER 1: So is it safe to say that you had friends of all ethnic race? ATILLIO: Oh, yes, absolutely, absolutely. There's always somebody around there that, you know, different people, obviously most of the relatives, well, all the relatives, will tag in but friends and so forth with everyone. My mother worked at the DuPont previously, and there were a lot of French-speaking women there and so forth and she learned to speak French working in the factory, so that she could speak… SPEAKER 1: How did as children, how did you really identify your differences? ATILLIO: With regard to ethnic backgrounds or whatever? SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ATILLIO: Oh, we never even thought about it. As I say, there was everybody there. We went out in the street and played. SPEAKER 1: Uh-huh. ATILLIO: And everybody played, regardless of what your background was. And there weren't any problems.5 SPEAKER 1: Oh, there wasn't any tension? ATILLIO: No. SPEAKER 1: Or dissension? ATILLIO: No, no, no. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ATILLIO: No. SPEAKER 1: How about your decision to go to Holy Cross? ATILLIO: Well, my brother was going there and so, you know, little did I know about schools and so forth but he went there so I figured out it would be a good place to go also. There was a question about whether I was going to be able to afford it and so forth. But they made it. SPEAKER 1: Now were you commuting with him and others? ATILLIO: Yes. I had an uncle from Fitchburg, actually, yes, who was the – you indicated that you would interview my Aunt [Doras] and Aunt [Via]. There was my Uncle Charlie who could tell from Fitchburg, and he was going to Holy Cross also. And he had a car and we commuted. There were other people from Leominster that he would pick up in the morning also and, you know, drive to [unintelligible - 00:08:55] after we had the restaurant then there was a little more money around and I had a car to drive back and forth in my senior year. SPEAKER 1: Now were you working at this time also? ATILLIO: Oh, yes. In the restaurant, yes, every other night. SPEAKER 1: Every other night? ATILLIO: Every other night, we worked in the restaurant, yes. But you had the study done during the day at school, during off hours and so forth. SPEAKER 1: What was Sundays like? ATILLIO: Well, when I was small, it was very enjoyable. There was always the big Sunday meal. And, of course, everybody go to church in 6 the morning and come back and there was a big Sunday dinner. And usually in the afternoon, it was lying around, taking it easy, going to visit people, listening to the radio and so forth. In later years, of course, once we had the restaurant, there was work because the restaurant was so full on Sunday. SPEAKER 1: Now was religion important to your family, your parents? ATILLIO: Absolutely. My mother was an extremely religious woman and we were on a very short leash; we didn't stray very far. She was, as I say, she was watching us all the time and brought up in a very religious manner, yes. SPEAKER 1: Were there any gender differences in the family as far as what the boys were expected to do and girls? ATILLIO: Well, not really because there were almost two families there. My brother and I, the girls didn't come along until 15 years later or something like that. And so it's just my brother and I, and we grew up doing housework and everything else. Before we had the restaurant, Saturday was a house-cleaning day, and we did dusting and everything else. And we washed dishes like everybody else. The girls came along at a later time but by then we just couldn't – just dropped the so-called family life because we're working. The girls didn't grow up the same way that my brother and I did because of my visiting and so forth so. But the restaurant was closed on Mondays, and every Monday, I would take the girls – SPEAKER 1: Oh, is education important for the girls to have too? ATILLIO: Oh, yes, yes. My sister Margaret went to Rivier College in New Hampshire, and Janie went to [unintelligible - 00:11:32], did a very good job with the [unintelligible - 00:11:35]. She's been with them a long time, she's almost… SPEAKER 1: Bob, are you bored yet, just sitting there? ROBERT: I'm all right.7 SPEAKER 1: So I thought maybe I could ask you about your childhood. First of all, were your grandparents alive? ROBERT: Yes, they were, yeah. SPEAKER 1: Can you tell me what you remember? ROBERT: My dad's mother didn't pass away until 1997. SPEAKER 1: Don't know, for some reason. The only thing that's been put there – I'm not sure why this is happening. ROBERT: Usually on Sundays… SPEAKER 1: I'm fine, but I'm trying to get in, if you can tell, as close as possible to – so never? ROBERT: Never. SPEAKER 1: You have had something to do with that or…? ROBERT: No, but I, you know, I could see that the hours there were really long, were very long. But no, it's not something I ever thought about up here in town, in Leominster. There were quite a few of us kids there so it was a busy place – a lot of children in the neighborhood too, so it was – well, I'd say we were all pretty much, you know… so, that's what I remember about that. ATILLIO: Well, in a sense it was that because the Oliviers have a French heritage and the [unintelligible - 00:12:55] were Irish and… ROBERT: Right. ATILLIO: We were [turning] to 22 children in those four households or five households, I mean… ROBERT: Well, that's probably true, I think growing, we didn't think so much about our heritage. It wasn't something that really… you know, we go to different churches, I suppose you could say, but that was it. ATILLIO: Well, in my day, of course, you had mostly the first generation… the parents were all immigrants. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm.8 ATILLIO: And obviously they tended to live with other people of their own heritage as a street area. The French were all congregated in Plains. And then that was only because I think you tended to stay among the people that you know and you were comfortable with, so to speak, because you had – many parents spoke only their ethnic language. My grandmother could speak a little English, but not much. It was mainly Italian and she had been in this country for many years. She was 99 and a half and still speaking Italian. And if you go down to, down on the hill, there'll be older people that are still speaking French all the time. So it was just – it isn't like today where everybody's just spread out and has gone everywhere. You tended to stay among the people that you knew and have been and so forth. SPEAKER 1: Is there a – a still… ATILLIO: Some of the old timers, but some of the old ones, yes. And my wife delivers communion to elderly in [unintelligible - 00:14:37] so forth, and some of them only speak Italian – prays in Italian so that she could say the prayers with them. And that was so they knew what to [unintelligible - 00:14:46], not too much. SPEAKER 1: And did your parents –? ATILLIO: Yes, but not always no. No, no – mainly with them it was English. But obviously they knew Italian very well because they were born in Italy and came to this country. But in the home and most of the time, 90 percent of the time, they were speaking English. If they visited other people, they would speak Italian to them depending on, you know, who they were. Those days a lot of the people, the people are a lot more comfortable with their native language. So they – there's not too many of those. SPEAKER 1: Italians? ATILLIO: No, no, no. SPEAKER 1: English?9 ATILLIO: We spoke English all the time. But they never spoke Italian in the house to us. Well, they tried to teach us Italian, but Mother bought books and we took lessons and things of that nature but… ROBERT: Yes, I think we – I think my folks expressed that with us certainly and you know, we would watch very much of, a factor. Yes. ROBERT: Well, I'd set an example I suppose and just seemed more of a natural fit for me than any other … ATILLIO: Oh, there was really no good reason for it. After I graduated from Holy Cross, I went into the service. And when I get out of the service, I didn't really know what I wanted to do and law school. You know I said not like being [unintelligible - 00:16:21], so I went to law school. It was that simple. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ATILLIO: Oh. SPEAKER 1: Mentor? ATILLIO: No, because I didn't even know any lawyers in those days. I didn't know one, graduated from law school and started working. SPEAKER 1: That's pretty courageous, I think. ATILLIO: It's been a good life, I've enjoyed it. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ATILLIO: Yes. [Angst] instead of leaders, there's no question about that from the way I used to practice, but it's enjoyable. I think when he was in college, he indicated that he wanted to become a lawyer also and I do law schools. I have a daughter who's an attorney. She graduated from [unintelligible - 00:17:09] in nursing and she practiced nursing for several years, but then decided she wanted to go to Arlington and [unintelligible - 00:17:24] John was in Bentley and Christina's wished to stay. All gone to school, but so when you talk about education, yes, we felt it was an… SPEAKER 1: You're the first Italian in Leominster and Fitchburg to graduate from law school?10 ATILLIO: No, oh no. No, there was a – in Leominster there was a Gene Oliver, he was the – when I started he was helping [unintelligible - 00:17:53] and then he was probably in his sixties then. Johnsberg, Paul San Clementi, a number of different Italians as attorneys – many, many more so since then, but they're all over the place now. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ATILLIO: Hmm, you know… SPEAKER 1: What were Sundays like growing up? ROBERT: Some days, everyone was around. It was a family day, you know, we'd usually go to, have a big lunch at home. At times we'd have relatives that would visit or we would go there, maybe – I'm guessing maybe once a month or something. But it was a time that we'd spent at home really. That was my recollection. We could play outside, but it was more of a family day, to be honest. That's what I remember. SPEAKER 1: What are Sundays like? ROBERT: Sundays are a day to relax, you know. You go to church in the morning probably… Well, we don't do that as much. My wife Priscilla and I will spend the day together, because work's in Boston and we don't see each other until, you know, seven, eight o'clock at night usually. And Saturdays, I typically work for at least half the day. So, Sunday we'll probably spend some time together or maybe take a ride or… My Uncle Ed was a fellow who was married to my Aunt Margaret; he had been a city councilor. And I think I always knew growing up that politics would be an interesting thing, like the fun thing to do. I always thought that that would be something I would try, be something I could do on my own so, I decided to run for the Leominster city council. It was a [unintelligible - 00:19:47] after I got out of law school, I graduated in '83 and I, city council in I guess it was '84 because I was elected on the city council. It wasn't really after I got out of 11 law school that I ran for office. And then state representative in Leominster, Angelo [Pacuzzi] passed away. He had been there for, passed away. It was an election year and I decided to run with a number of other politicians, and I was lucky enough to – we have the senate seat opened up and I ran for that too, so that's how it… SPEAKER 1: Um… ROBERT: I think that when Angelo Pacuzzi passed away, my Uncle Ed might have said to me "Gee, you should think about that." And I had to do it, you know. And he was, he was very helpful to me, I couldn't have done it without him. He had been a reporter at Leominster years earlier and he always enjoyed politics too. And he actually helped Angelo Pacuzi when he ran for the seat, you know 15 or 17 years earlier. And there was another guy by the name of [Chockie Antonucci], who was a firefighter, retired firefighter in town. I mean, Chock and Ed, you know, they really helped me out a lot. I never raced – they were actually involved in both of them. They were involved in the city council race, the state representative race and then the senate race; they were great, you know. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ROBERT: I think so. I mean, I think that the ethnic factor certainly helped in Leominster, no question because, as my dad said there are it's a big [unintelligible - 00:21:22], and I think that that is a – from a politician's standpoint, the ethnic vote is still important and people, particularly those who are older, are certainly willing to consider someone of their heritage. Ethnic factor is a big thing, sure, even today. ATILLIO: I remember the incidents and so forth with all the happenings, yes. We were in Leominster at the time so, you know, we didn't take that much interest, as they would in Fitchburg. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm.12 ATILLIO: But in those days, he mentioned Chock Antonucci and Buck became a fireman. And a big party down there, because I am going on the, into the fire department; there weren't many around even beforehand or something like that, and so this department had a number of Italians. As I say it today, nobody looks at those things anymore. And I think it's for the better, obviously, because it shouldn't make any difference who you are; you know, as long as you are qualified, you should be in these positions. But again in those days, there were close-knit groups than there are today. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. What does it mean to you to be Italian? ROBERT: I had my identity. You know, it's a connection by, you know, cousins and, you know, part of your identity. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ROBERT: You know, special thing, it is. And it's something you can, well, like I think I would want my children to appreciate. Oh I think you, you learn as you get older that there are people that share a different background with you and you come to appreciate [unintelligible - 00:23:10] that too. And as a legislator, you travel around a bit, you meet a lot of different people from – that's a – so you begin to, I think you appreciate the differences in people, too, that you know otherwise; it gives you a lot of perspective. SPEAKER 1: Now… ROBERT: Actually my wife is half Italian. SPEAKER 1: Is she? ROBERT: Yes, her grandparent – Boston, believe it or not, they were protestants. Her grandparents were Protestants when they came over. I think, Boston – the community in Boston were very supportive of grandparents. I imagine at some point they were Catholic in Italy, but that's just the way it was. And her grandfather was an Italian lawyer in Boston, and she's very proud of that.13 SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ROBERT: And she's an attorney too. SPEAKER 1: Oh, not moving back to Leominster? ROBERT: Well, I think that being in politics – well, no really. Because when I graduated from law school, it was my intention to come back and work with my dad. So I intended on living here, but now being in politics and serving this area, Leominster, I expect that I'll continue to live in Leominster or the surrounding communities. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ROBERT: Or one of the surrounding communities, sure. SPEAKER 1: I'd like to continue with… ATILLIO: Leominster, of course, has grown considerably. When I was in high school, there were only about 17,000 people in town. I remember one brochure describing it as a semi-agrarian community. We still had a lot of farms though, yes. Entire outlying areas were all farms here. SPEAKER 1: Uh-huh. ATILLIO: But now 30,000 people now. So the city has grown tremendously; there's no question about that. And the law profession, when I – so 17 lawyers in town and it must be 50 now anyway, tremendous increase in the number of attorneys all over the place now. And the law profession itself has changed. In those days, [aces and] things of that nature, now the actual in case that we take up 10 percent of the law work. You have so many more fields that have opened up. Environmental issue… SPEAKER 1: How is Leominster changed in just the period of time that, you know, you've grown up here and now as far as ethnic composition or is it – does it still have a hometown feel to it? ROBERT: You know that depends on who you ask. If you ask my wife, she'd tell you that it looks like something out of the '50s, you know. But I think it's changed quite a bit. You know, as my dad said, it's 14 really grown. And that I've, you know, come back to practice in the last 17 years or so, it's grown dramatically. I think that you've got many, many people coming from outside the city to live here and work because of its location on route two. And you got many of the developments that were built up on the farms and the old ski area here in town. They tend to be high-priced homes, at least as this area had known the housing scale. And you've got many people coming who didn't grow up here, who really had no connection to Leominster. And that's true, in fact, of the whole area here, the system migration west and because people are looking for affordable housing. Leominster's changed considerably. You know, I still think of it obviously as home. But it's a much busier place. I mean, you can't drive downtown on Saturday without waiting in traffic 10, 15 minutes. Friday afternoons as well, it gets awfully busy – sign of the times. SPEAKER 1: Now I wish [unintelligible - 00:27:24], did you have Italians coming in to be serviced or was it about… ATILLIO: No, not here. I never – quite frankly, we relied on the Italian community for my livelihood. I'm more – Italians, I think the one reason for that might be that my mother and father came from Fitch – Leominster people. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ATILLIO: So and at the time that I was starting, Jimmy Oliver was representing all the Italian people in town and John [unintelligible - 00:28:05] was. And they got the bulk of the Italian trade, so to speak. So it was just regular people, all kinds coming in to different things. The last 25 years or so, I haven't been to court in 20 years now because all I do is mortgage work for banks and probate work for those in the States and things of that nature, so that that in itself is literally with me. Like I said before, he handles far more different things than I ever did. And obviously it won't, 15 well, because I'm reaching the end of the trail here; I've been around 45 years now. But as I say with my work, with doing just mortgage work for banks and things like that, I handled dozens of closings for residential houses and lawns, shopping malls, the whole [unintelligible - 00:29:10] people needed. SPEAKER 1: Oh and initially when you began – I guess this is progress, all that noise outside, right? Anyway, when you first began business, how did people pay for your services? ATILLIO: Well, I was never one to get paid up front, because I knew a lot of the people didn't have a lot of money. And I never lost a lot. I mean I – some bills have gone sour but I never regretted that – I never had a real problem with regard to it. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ATILLIO: But it's interesting, you've just indicated that, the noise of the traffic outside. Well, when I started, we didn't have I-190 or any other highways. And all the traffic used to come right through town here. Everybody going from Worcester up to New Hampshire or through this entire area, they all used Route 12. And Route 12 goes right through the center of town here. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ATILLIO: And you got the traffic light there and you got the traffic light there. And it was amazing, even in those days, the number of trucks that you had. And everyone of them was stopping here and I started out across the street there. And – well I had an office at [unintelligible - 00:30:37] at 39 Main Street. And [unintelligible - 00:30:42] time you have the window opened and it was just trucks, trucks, trucks. And they stop for the lights and they rev the motors and so forth, so you had to close the windows [unintelligible - 00:30:52] try and do anything. So this is nothing compared to what it used to be like. SPEAKER 1: Did you begin by yourself?16 ATILLIO: No, I started next door in this building over here with Isidore Sullivan. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ATILLIO: And I was with him for five years and then I went, branched off on my own. Went across… SPEAKER 1: What's it like working with your son? ATILLIO: It's good, it's very good. I've enjoyed it. I've enjoyed it. We don't have any problems. ROBERT: No. ATILLIO: We understand each other. We ask each other for advice and opinions and so forth. ROBERT: Mm-hmm. ATILLIO: And I think the main thing is that it's, you know, we trust each other. ROBERT: Mm-hmm. ATILLIO: So that when we ask a question, we're getting a truthful answer, you know for us, in our circumstances and so forth. So that…no, I've enjoyed having him with me tremendously. I don't know what I would have done if he hadn't come here, because I wouldn't have lasted this long, I'm sure of that. ROBERT: And it's been good, it's been very good. If my dad hadn't been an attorney, I don't know what I would have done too. But it's good, you know. I keep telling him that he can retire anytime he wants, although like I secretly don't want him to go. But no, it's been very good, you know. It's been a comfortable place to work. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ROBERT: You know, I've never really thought of not doing this. The political job has enabled me to do other things, but still allowed me to stay here. And you know, I never thought of going someplace else, you know. It's a very comfortable place and, you know, we know each other obviously and… good, it's been good; I'm glad.17 SPEAKER 1: What happens when he retires? ROBERT: I don't know. [Laughter] He promised me… ATILLIO: I won't be far away. ROBERT: He promised me he won't. So, I don't know. I don't know what I –honest to God, I really haven't thought about it. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ROBERT: And I keep telling him that, you know, whatever he wants, that's okay. He can do that. But I think my dad, this is like his, it's part of his work, but it's kind of his hobby too, I think really, you know. You know, I like to go fishing and stuff; he doesn't fish. So I think this is…I hope they say I'm honest, you know. I was sensitive to their situation. I guess that's what I would hope they would – I think education seems to have become the real big issue today, at least as I've been there. It's just really grown, you know, both in terms of prominence, in terms of the money that we've committed to it. It really is that the issue people seem to care most about fall pretty close to the other thing by healthcare. That's how it changed a lot. People tend to come to us for just about everything; you'd be surprised. The calls that we get from people that are having a problem with the Registry of Motor Vehicles or the Department of Social Services or traffic light or – you'd be amazed with some of the calls we get. And sometimes if they won't find me, they'll call my parent's house, you know, looking for me. They'd call like late, in the middle of the night sometimes, yes. ATILLIO: Yes, quarter to four the other day. ROBERT: Yes. SPEAKER 1: Quarter to four? AM? ROBERT: In the morning. ATILLIO: In the morning. ROBERT: Yes.18 SPEAKER 1: What happened? They can't wait or something? ATILLIO: We got to talk to the senator. [Laughter] SPEAKER 1: But not at that time. ROBERT: I think my mother hung up on them, which is pretty unusual for my mother to hang up on anybody but… ATILLIO: No, she said, "Call the office in the morning, not now." ROBERT: Ah, right. ATILLIO: You realize what time it is? My wife is a much nicer person than I am. [Laughter] ROBERT: I was friendly with Paul. I always liked him. He had been a legislator for a long time. We have a number of mutual friends, so I didn't endorse him when he ran as a Democrat. SPEAKER 1: Okay. ROBERT: He really – but I didn't endorse the Democrat either, who's running against him last time. You know, I think that on Beacon Hill, a lot of the partisan stuff is put aside most of the time. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ROBERT: When the governor takes a position, very often it's partisan with the speaker or the senate president, but for the average person out there, you know, I think that you've got to have your eyes open and just kind of do what you think is the right thing and not so much what the political thing is, or what the partisan thing to do is. I think people don't really care about that a lot. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ROBERT: So I didn't have a hard time working with Paul Cellucci or Bill Weld or James Swift. I got along well with Mike Dukakis too. It didn't really matter who the governor was, or the party so much, I don't think. Once they ran, you know. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ROBERT: I mean you got to work with people. SPEAKER 1: So do you ever reflect on…19 ROBERT: Oh yes. SPEAKER 1: Where you are now? ROBERT: Sure, yes. I'm sure for them it was a real – I'm very lucky, you know. I know that. We were brought up, you know, our parents were there and they gave us a great education. We had a great family life, there was a lot of love there and that made all the difference. We all went to good schools. We had advantages that my grandparents never had, you know, on either side of the family, in terms of education and the ability to provide for ourselves. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ROBERT: For most of us, I think it really hasn't been a struggle. And that's, you know, that's a credit to my parents and my grandparents, to set out and establish a home someplace we don't know anyone or maybe they don't even speak the language. People wouldn't think of doing that, but back then it was fairly commonplace with [unintelligible - 00:37:36]. SPEAKER 1: That… ATILLIO: No. SPEAKER 1: That – you know… ROBERT: No, I don't – you know – I don't know. I… ATILLIO: No, that's all right. Marie married… ROBERT: Right. ATILLIO: Someone with no faith. An extremely, extremely good man, don't misunderstand me. But I mean he's not – she's happy and she has beautiful children. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ATILLIO: So… in those days my parents were – well, probably would have been shocked by it, but I mean it's –we're not today. I think one of the big difference is that, is the outside the religious aspect of it, but my graduating class at Holy Cross in 1951, 90 percent of the fellows in that class went into the service – ninety percent. Now I 20 think that's an extremely high percentage. And also that you had handicapped people in the class that were physically unable to go into the service and things like that, or the number of fellows that went into the seminary and so forth. Today, I think you have some patriotism around because of that September 11 incident, but people just don't look at it the same way today as they did. [Unintelligible - 00:38:55] Canada to avoid going into the service, whereas at the draft, they're doing the Vietnam War where you have any number of people that were – there are a lot of changes in the world, there's no question about that. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm [unintelligible - 00:39:09] know? ROBERT: Fortunately I am. SPEAKER 1: And you? ROBERT: I think you've covered it pretty well. SPEAKER 1: [Continuation] of the interview, the senator had to leave and I have just one more question for Atillio and that is, what does it mean to be an Italian? ATILLIO: Oh gosh, what's it mean? When you talk about Italian people, the first thing that comes for me is the warmth. It comes from within the people, from within. I think they generally love other people – most definitely strong believers in the family. And Italian mothers, don't cross them or their children because no telling what would happen. There is a great love of the children in Italian families. There's strong family feelings; I grew up with strong family feelings. A week, it was – over any great period of time when we didn't see our grandparents. Fortunately that was just on my mother's side because my father – I'm just happy, I enjoy it. I [unintelligible - 00:40:31] for life, their little [unintelligible - 00:40:34] Italian wedding, you would have fun. There's no question about that. Like to party, they like to eat and drink. And they're the warm, warm people, and I've enjoyed it.21 SPEAKER 1: What for your children? ATILLIO: Well, I hope that my wife and I have gotten along extremely well. And we've lived our years together, now we'll be in July and we've had six children and happy. I would hope that they would have the same happiness that we had, but as I say, unfortunately it's a different world out there. We intended to have as many children as the good Lord sent us and he sent us six. And we've been very happy with that, but I think the – I have two daughters that have children, most of them today and been running around that everybody does today, just the frantic pace out there now, that fortunately most of us did – everybody wants and all the new cars and so, they're cheating themselves in some form, but that's their decision and they do what they have to do. My wife didn't work; when the children were older, she used to help me out in the office and so forth. But it was the same with my brother, his wife worked with the children at home. She took care of the home and – because when I was sick, my wife took care of me, and I… SPEAKER 1: To take care of each other? ATILLIO: Yes, yes. Take care of each other and take care of your family. And that was the important thing. That's about it. Oh yes, I think you've covered everything. I'm sure I'll think of a thousand things after you're gone, but… SPEAKER 1: You can certainly call. ATILLIO: But, no I'm a – as I say, as far as – I've been very happy being Italian. I've grown up with a lot of wonderful people and workers. Kevin, my cousins, they are the Ballerin sisters; they're both doctors so on, so forth. Their parents worked extremely hard [unintelligible - 00:42:49], and then she had the bakery there. They get up at [three] [unintelligible - 00:42:53], taken several trips to Italy now, and they've been friendly to us, always been warm and…22 SPEAKER 1: Your ancestral village? ATILLIO: Oh, yes, as a matter of fact last fall. SPEAKER 1: Last fall? ATILLIO: Last fall we were there. With the trip to the lakes where [unintelligible - 00:43:11] in Italy and then we went to the house of my wife, my mother was born in, in Revine Lago. And that's a swirl of mountains there. They lived in what they call 'the castle.' It was a castle [unintelligible - 00:43:29] in the center of the town – that lives there. Seventeen hundred years old. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. ATILLIO: You know, last fall. My wife and I have been there before, but this is with the rest of the family. SPEAKER 1: Did you ever meet any of your cousins? ATILLIO: Oh yes. SPEAKER 1: Yes? ATILLIO: Yes, I've met many of them. Very hospitable to us when we went there last fall and so forth, having the – and they've come here and they stayed at my mother's house and… SPEAKER 1: And [unintelligible - 00:44:04] speaking, how were they different as far as lifestyle? ATILLIO: Well, I think the only difference is they don't go to the malls like we do all the time, because it's not in the large cities. They're working, they have decent jobs – well, some of them have done very well for themselves and all well dressed and they all appear to eat well – even, I'm sure that if you go up to New Hampshire from here, the people in some of those small towns lived differently than we do here in Leominster. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm, interesting. ATILLIO: That's all. SPEAKER 1: Well, okay, well, I thank you very much./AT/ee

Part four of an interview with educators in the Leominster, Massachusetts area. Topics include: Joeseph DeCarolis, a school principal in Leominster and other locations, introduces himself. Vincent DiNino, a teacher in Leominster, introduces himself. Why their families settled in Leominster. How immigrants learned English. What Leominster was like. Memories of early education. Social clubs for Italian Americans. Bilingual education and preserving cultural heritage. ; 1 SPEAKER 1: Actually, I think he already gave that anyway, especially during – we'll get back to you… SPEAKER 2: Sure. SPEAKER 1: Because you were actually born in Italy. SPEAKER 2: Yes. SPEAKER 1: And that's important. JOE: I'm Joe DeCarolis. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. JOE: I was born in Pittsfield, Mass. All four of my grandparents came from Italy. Uh, my mother's folks came from Calabria and my grandparents in Leominster, I'm not quite sure. I should know that. Uh, principal in Leominster for 25 years, I was principal in other places, for a total of 31 years; uh, and in the local schools, Lincoln School, Leominster Junior High School, uh, Leominster High School, Fitchburg State College, University of Mass., University of New Hampshire. I was all over the place. Uh, I live in Leominster now. I did… uh, I traveled [a little] also with my family, came back to Leominster. I've four children living, grandchildren, out here in Leominster, attending Leominster schools. We have a business − an insurance business. My parents would have been very proud of their grandson, but unfortunately they're gone to the great beyond. But, uh, I look forward to the future of Leominster where our kids are in the public education right now. SPEAKER 2: He was also all over the football field. (FEMALE VOICE) GROUP: [Laughter] SPEAKER 2: He was a football player… SPEAKER 1: Were you ever a coach? JOE: Yes, I coached. I played and, uh, I help now with my grandson playing the [unintelligible - 00:01:24] and my son coaching the Leominster High School offensive line so we're still involved in it, in that activity. I belong to most clubs in town − the Sons of Italy, the Elks, the Knights of 2 Columbus, Board of Directors of the Leominster Credit Union and other activities. Leominster Country Club, where I play a lot of golf; and my sons and my grandson also do that. VINCENT: My name is Vincent DiNino, and I was born in Corfinio, Italy in 1940. I came to the United States when I was 16. I remember my boat's trip. The boats – the boat I came over was the uh, Christopher Columbus − and the sister ship of that boat was the Andrea Doria, which met, uh, an early uh, fate, sinking; and I always thought it could have been the, uh, Christopher Columbus that would be sunken instead of the Andrea Doria, and now where would I be? So I've always been thankful that I did reach the shores of the United States. And to give a brief perspective, I never really intended to come stateside because when I started schools in Italy, in the middle schools, they ask you what kind of career you intend to take and the choice was you could take foreign language to match the kind of career that you wanted. And for most intents and purposes, you cannot take German because Germany was defeated. Yes, you could take Italian. You should take Italian because that was your country. And French or English were the foreign languages that were recommended. Now, if you did not intend to go to Australia or Canada or the United States, you should take French, because French was the international language of trade and commerce, industry. And that's what I did. I took French in middle school, not knowing that later on, about three years later, we would be coming stateside and I would come to Leominster, Massachusetts, not knowing a word of English − but knowing French quite well, Italian, of course, and having some Latin. So when I started school at first at the junior high and then at the high school, I was fortunate enough to be able to take foreign languages − but not to learn the foreign languages, to do reverse engineering and learn English. So I took Italian. I took French. I took Latin. Of course, I already knew the languages insofar as they were being taught in those grades; but I would learn the vocabulary and the 3 structure that pertained to English. So that's how I got through high school and I was able to get to college. And I went to college in Worcester − first Assumption and then Clark. I did get a degree in Education. And I had a good background in Electronics. The Dean of Students at Clark was so impressed with my thesis that he said, "I've just been given a post to be President at Leicester Junior College. Would you join me and set up a language lab there?" "Oh," I said, "Fine." Beautiful first job − and it had some perks, like resident at a very subsidized rate, so it fit me perfectly. And I stayed with Leicester Junior College until Becker Junior College bought it out in1970. Then as I had been teaching foreign languages and one of those languages was Spanish, I saw that there was a need for bilingual education in the area and I applied to the Leominster public school system, which apparently saw me as a good candidate and I worked in the Leominster school system for 10 years, until my parents were both diagnosed with cancer. And I decided that at that time, since I was the only child stateside − I have two sisters in Italy, but far away when there is a sudden illness or a big problem. So I said, "Well, I'll take a couple of years leave of absence and see if I… if I can help." And of course, the school system was kind enough to allow me to do that. And while I took care of my parents, who were getting weaker and weaker, I also started to do a electronics repair business in my garage, a relatively large garage in which we didn't park cars anymore, but we had TVs and VCRs and all kinds of electronic stuff that I always liked to tinker with. So it seemed to be okay. And at this time too, one of my close relatives, my aunt, had a stroke and couldn't live by herself so we took her in. And I was also taking care of her while doing the electronics business. And when the time came to decide whether I should be back for the schools or continue with my business, I decided that probably at that time I wanted to see what's running your own business look like. And I started electronic equipment repair, which I'm still running, in spite of the 4 fact that the electronics business has met with great competition from overseas, especially Southeast Asia. And most consumer products are very inexpensive to purchase and are disposable. But we do some products which are not disposable, in the thousands of dollars cost area – like projection TV sets, which are still relatively good insofar as business profit. SPEAKER 1: Okay, thank you. I was wondering if each of you could tell me, why Leominster? Why did your family settle here? SPEAKER 2: Why did my family…? SPEAKER 1: [Unintelligible – 00:08:38]… settled here. First of all, I have to say, it's a lot of people to keep track of. So even though you may have said something at the beginning − for example, you may have said [unintelligible – 00:08:48] in Leominster, I just… sorry about that if I'm asking you a question that maybe you answered a little bit. SPEAKER 2: Okay. SPEAKER 1: But I really want to know, why is it that your particular family settled in Fitchburg or Leominster? Did they follow another relative or was it because of work or…? SPEAKER 2: I wish I knew all of that. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. SPEAKER 2: My paternal grandparents were in Leominster. And my maternal grandparents were in Boston. But when people were coming here from Italy, my grandmother… I don't know what you would call her in this day and age. But she was the one that people went to, for some reason. And I don't know whether she had been established, maybe, for a few years − and most of the people that came from a [unintelligible - 00:09:50] settled in Leominster, on Lincoln Terrace. And that's the first house that I remember my grandparents being in. When my parents were married, they moved to Leominster. I guess it was the woman's place to move to wherever her husband was. And both my grandfather and my dad were 5 employed at Dupont. And then my dad went on… I think in 1937, was the first detective police officer in Leominster, part-time for two years. And then in 1939 was promoted to a full-time position. They had to pass the Civil Service Test and all that went with it. SPEAKER 1: Italian Citizens Club helped him with that? SPEAKER 2: I remember him studying for it as a child, even – though I'm not certain of that. But I do know he belonged to Italian social clubs − the Salvini Club up on Lincoln Terrace; going to the Elks and the Knights, and all of those things. I really can't speak to that. I was too young; I was only maybe five years old. PELINO: Because my family was kind of mixed, in that my father's family were all in Corfinio, Italy. On my mother's side, her parents came to the United States in the early 1900s and settled around Everett, Massachusetts. And my grandmother had her six children all born in Everett. My mother was one of them. But then after the first World War, my grandmother went back to Italy, went back to Corfinio, with all of her children; taking all of them with her, primarily to take care of her father, who was alone at the time. He was… so she went back to the family homestead, so to speak, in Corfinio. And that's where my mother and her brother and sisters, you know, grew up. At the time that they went back to Italy, they were – some of them six years old, eight years old, in that range. And my mother grew up and got married. Met my father and got married in late 1930s in Corfinio. And then after the war, we came to the United States. That was in 1949. And we went to Cokeburg, Pennsylvania. My mother had a great uncle who lived in Cokeburg and he had a small business. He had a bar room and a restaurant, you know, combination. Coal mining was the way that people make their living in that area unless you own some small business or perhaps you own land and farmed. So my father went to work in a coal mine. At that time, the mines went on strike. They were out for three to six months. It was a very difficult time. And my great uncle suggested to my parents that we should come to Leominster. We had 6 other relatives here. My grandmother had a brother living here in Leominster. And one of my mother's sisters − my aunt, who came in 1949 − settled here in Leominster. So he suggested that for the betterment of the family, for greater opportunity, we should move to Leominster, which we did, in 1950; and the family's been here ever since. That's how we came in to settle in Leominster. That was all on my mother's side. My father's family is still all in Italy. SPEAKER 1: Now in 1950, how old were you? PELINO: At that time I was 11 years old. I came in 1949; I was nine. I came early; I believe it was February 1 when we landed. I can't remember the name of the ship, but they were sister ships, I remember that. One was the Vulcania, and the other was the Saturnia. And I believe I came on the Vulcania; that was quite a trip − have a lot of fond memories about it, my first cruise [laughter]. JOE: Was it in the winter or the summertime…? PELINO: It was winter. SPEAKER 2: Sure. I'm real curious to know where – which port you came in to. Was it Boston or was it…? PELINO: New York. SPEAKER 2: Okay. JOE: Oh, yeah. SPEAKER 2: See, that's the thing. I don't know where my grandparents came in… PELINO: Oh, I can remember the ship going to Canada and making a stop and letting some people off in Canada, because that was another, you know, port of entry. But then it did go down to New York and that's where we landed. JOE: Pelino went to Pennsylvania. They couldn't pronounce his name so they called him Paul [unintelligible - 00:15:04]. So when he came to Leominster, he said it was Paul [unintelligible - 00:15:07].7 PELINO: That's true. That's true. My uncle changed my name to Paul Marshall. I have report cards… I had report cards with that name. But coming to Leominster and registering here, I went back to my given name. SPEAKER 1: Now why did he suggest that? PELINO: That was a funny story. I never knew until in the mid-50s, he came to visit, you know, the family here. And particularly, his brother that I mentioned, lived in Leominster. And I asked him. I said, "Uncle Frank, how come you changed my name?" And he said, "Well, you know, this is, you know, the land of opportunity. You could be almost anything you want to be. And someday you could grow up and be a lawyer, or you could be a doctor or whatever, and you're going to have your name on the door. And people are going to come by and see that long name, they're going to be afraid to pronounce it and they're not going to come in." [Laughter] That was his answer. I said, "How come you never changed yours? And he wouldn't answer that question [laughter]. But he was a wonderful man. He married − around 1935 – he married a lady from Yugoslavia. And the small town of Cokeburg had a number of ethnic groups, Serbians, Croatians, all regions of what we know as Yugoslavia; Polish, Russian, Italians, of course. And they all had their social clubs, you know, just like we found here in Leominster. But they all congregated − and my uncle's one of them – in a bar room, particularly on Friday nights, which was payday. So you heard all kinds of… all kinds of languages. And my aunt, Pauline, actually spoke − not only English and Italian, which she spoke much better than I ever did − but also a little bit of Russian, Polish, you name it. And she picked it up, you know, from working in the restaurant, in the bar room. And one of my best friends was a Croatian. His name was Sam. And I don't think I ever had anybody in my life that I was closest to and who influenced me more as a friend than Sam. And I only knew him for about a year and a half. SPEAKER 1: The bar room was in Pennsylvania then, not Leominster.8 PELINO: Yes, right. He was in Pennsylvania. And like I said, it was one of, you know, a number of ethnic little clubs. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. JOE: [Unintelligible - 00:17:54]. My four grandparents came for family. They wanted a new life. My mother's family went to New York − to Rome, New York. Rome is a very highly populated Italian population. And then they migrated to Pittsfield, Mass.; GE was flourishing… Actually they were in the grocery business; Italian imported and [unintelligible - 00:18:23] goods. My father's family in Leominster migrated to Leominster because of family and got involved with plastics; DuPont's – my father later started his own factory. When I went in the Army and I came out thinking I was going to be a millionaire because I was going to take over this plastics factory, but he sold it to buy a bar. Then my grandfather was out of work and he wanted to put him to work, so he bought a bar and he worked the days and my father worked the nights. But we spent most of our lives in Leominster. I call Leominster home even though I was born in Pittsfield, grew up across [unintelligible - 00:19:10]. My father's a cop would watch over us at downtown and give me a good [unintelligible - 00:19:15] go home and [unintelligible - 00:19:17]. Because if he would have crossed the street and said [unintelligible - 00:19:19] and Dominic, I [unintelligible - 00:19:21] around downtown, they took care of that. Going to the public schools as a young Italian kid in the beginning was a little difficult, you know. And the good thing was that the area, Leominster in those days was set up in ethnic sections − the Italian section, the Irish section, the Protestant section. So you were comfortable in that way, okay. Eventually, we started to play ball against the other sections of town and that broke the ice, and you made friends with the kids from different sectors, the Irish section; and intermarriage started to happen. And all of my brothers and I married outside the Italian culture, maybe…9 SPEAKER 2: That was a no-no. That was a big no-no. JOE: It was a big no-no. You didn't marry outside your culture in those days. That just didn't happen. But as I say, as things went on and we played ball together. We went to school together. We went to college together. That kind of broke that ice and people intermarried. I say we had a bar – we were given the opportunity. We made the opportunity to start our own businesses, okay? My brother went into a very successful semiconductor business. Now the industry is on 128; it's huge… major, major. He retired young, okay. My son owns four agencies − insurance agencies − in town. He started one and bought three. So opportunity was there if you wanted to take it and there was a tremendous desire on the part of all the people that I knew − my best friends all wanted to either be in business, or be in education. We had some tremendous people who were Italian. I can think of Christine [unintelligible - 00:21:13] was my first Italian teacher that I had in Lincoln School. I had her for two years in a row. We went fourth and fifth grade in the same room and then we went… SPEAKER 2: She was the second Italian teacher in Leominster. There's Mary McCall and Christine [unintelligible - 00:21:27]. JOE: I didn't realize that. Then she became Mrs. Mcgrall; she married [unintelligible - 00:21:31]. JOE: That's right. JOE: And he had a business, Mr. Mcgrall. SPEAKER 2: Yes. JOE: But I became… and she took a liking to me and I would run all her errands, go down to the store, buy her lunch and that kind of stuff; but it got me kind of enthused towards education. And I liked the aspect of working with kids and doing things that I liked people doing for me. So while I got out – actually, when I got out… I went to school; all my friends were joining the Army. So I got out of school, went home, told my mother that, "Mom, I'm going into the Army." I was getting ready for the 10 football season. She almost passed out. But when I got out, I got married. And I had a new aspect, a new view on life; so I worked – I went to school 8:00 in the morning with Pelino. We went together and I would go to [unintelligible - 00:22:28] at 3:00 and work to 11:00. And I did this for four years; I had two children. And my wife is Irish and [Swedish] and she could cook good Italian [unintelligible - 00:22:40]. SPEAKER 2: Did you speak English when you started school? JOE: Yes, yes. I figure a little Italian… in fact, the good thing for the parents in those days, that they could speak Italian and say things and you didn't know, so that the – and that was common in all families. [Laughter] My friends, most of my friends, don't speak Italian, and that's sad. I did take Italian when we were [unintelligible - 00:22:59] high school, three years of Italian. I'm not sure I learned a lot for long. I did plenty to get by, got good marks and so forth, but don't think that I recall [unintelligible - 00:23:10] but I don't know [unintelligible - 00:23:11]. And I'm very sad about that. SPEAKER 3: It's a matter of not using it, you know. (FEMALE VOICE) JOE: Exactly. SPEAKER 3: And I went… I took lessons from Vinny. JOE: I'm very jealous of people who… You did, huh? SPEAKER 3: Yes, I did. JOE: [Unintelligible - 00:23:23] night school, right? SPEAKER 3: When my mother was here we get [unintelligible - 00:23:27]. Yeah, we had a great time. JOE: I'm very sad about that. I never used it and then never kept it, you know. It was like Geometry, if you didn't use it, you lost it. And that's true today. And I wish I could have passed it on to my four children and my grandchildren, you know, and I can't do that. SPEAKER 3: I agree. JOE: And none of them speak a second language, which just too bad.11 SPEAKER 4: It's amazing. Do you mind my breaking in? (FEMALE VOICE) JOE: No. SPEAKER 4: I knew you loved it. I hate [unintelligible - 00:23:52]. [Laughter] [PELINO]: You know her well, don't you? SPEAKER 4: Maybe 12 years difference in age, right, between Joe and me? And yet, when I went to school and all of my friends didn't speak English − so within 10 years, he's going to school now… JOE: That's true [unintelligible - 00:24:11]. That's true. But you know, I can remember − I think Jeannie talked about it [unintelligible - 00:24:17]. Leominster had about five, maybe more, Italian clubs. The Calabrese, the [unintelligible - 00:24:24] and my dad belonged to a couple, as you said yours did. And every Sunday, off we would go with my father to the club and they would play cards, and they would drink wine. And my father would come home with a homemade bottle of wine; it was like somebody gave him a thousand dollars. He had a homemade bottle of wine and it bought – that was his, okay. But that's – and the people that I met in those days, the kids are still my best friends today. It was ties; there were ties, neighborhood ties and club ties − and they never got broken. PELINO: No, I had Mrs. Mcgrall too. She was my first teacher when we moved to Leominster. And I got a little Mrs. Mcgrall story. First day, I got there, registered. He said to me now, "Now, Pelino, school starts at quarter past eight." I said, "Yes, Mrs. Mcgrall." And we don't live too far away, [unintelligible - 00:25:24] right around the corner from Lincoln School. And so that first morning, I showed up about 8:23 and she called me inside and said, "Pelino, you're late." I said, "Really?" She said, "Yes, school starts at quarter past eight." I said, "Okay, Mrs. Mcgrall, I'll be here." The next morning I showed up about 8:20. She pulled me aside again. "Pelino, you're late." "Mrs. Mcgrall, I promise, I'll be here on time." The third morning, I got there about 8:17 and she said, "Pelino, I 12 don't know what to do with you. I talked to you twice already. School starts at 8:15." And the minute she said 8:15, the light dawned on me. To me, quarter was 25, because I first learned 25 cents. You learn money first, right Vinny? [Laughter] So up until that moment, I didn't make the connection that quarter, you know, quarter of an hour was 15 minutes. I thought I was in plenty of time. I don't know why she's [unintelligible - 00:26:28] every morning. [Laughter] But it was a funny experience; but we're a Southeast school and we have the bilingual program. You know the—Vinny remembers—that was one of the things that I – having learned that. You're a little bit more sensitive to other ethnic groups, okay, and their particular cultural backgrounds, so that you're not quick to judge them based on your standards. That was a lesson for me; and another lesson was always talking to the kids and having them look at me. And if they didn't, you know, my finger would go under their chin, you know, I'm talking to you, you know, look at me. Until one of the bilingual teachers explained to me that in their culture, that's disrespectful to look at the adults' eyes when they're talking to you. And it – you know, something entirely different from what I was used to. I was looking for respect from the youngster by having the youngster look at me, and I was asking him to do something that was disrespectful to his culture. And it's one of the things that was not very helpful, you know, years later in helping the classroom teachers and others adjust to different ethnic groups. JOE: You asked a while ago if I spoke Italian or took Italian. I started the first bilingual program when [unintelligible - 00:27:57] down the Southeast school in 1972. PELINO: Seventy-two, 72. JOE: Okay. But when I was going to school, it was the desire of an Italian family to have their kids speak English; no bilingual education, okay? And it annoys me today that we are still having people fight to save their culture. Oh, I want to save the Italian culture. And I think the Irish people should have their culture. But I also feel that you've got to give in to the 13 flow of civilization and what's happening. And we had to speak English, okay? We had to go to school. Now, if I may put it crudely, if I felt lousy, you know, my mother would say, "Go to the bathroom and go to school." That was it. You went to school, okay? Today, if there is a little headache or a big test or something, the kids don't come to school. If it rains, lots of kids don't come to the school. That's the advantage I think we had over today's youth, okay? I have to tell my own children, you get those kids to school. That's your main job, you know. They cry about getting sick, you always can go get them out; you [unintelligible - 00:29:09]. SPEAKER 1: So what's the intent of bilingual education, initially? JOE: It's to teach kids English, but written in to the law was the fact that they had to have so many hours of their culture each day, okay? We didn't have that. The culture was… is the one that you decided to live in, okay? We decided to live in Leominster, in United States of America, who spoke English, okay, and you were going to speak English, okay. I said the only advantage of Italian in my family is my parents can speak and talk about us and we didn't know it. SPEAKER 3: They all do. JOE: I guess it's coming back now, because they're going to change that [battle] of the law but it took 28, 29 years, okay? SPEAKER 1: So was the intent to keep it for a short period of time? JOE: I think so. SPEAKER 1: And then to grow out of it, so to speak? [PELINO]: [Unintelligible - 00:30:05] maximum of three years. SPEAKER 3: Three years, I thought. JOE: Three years? VINCENT: The program was conditional… JOE: Right, right. VINCENT: Bilingual education, so I guess the first thing is that you have to allow for a transition. And sometimes in transition they take one, two, three years, 14 and sometimes it may take a lifetime. Of course, everything has got to be within certain limits, because money is involved, because people's feelings are involved. And you kind of strike a balance between what some people want and what the necessities of the system dictate, I think. SPEAKER 4: The other thing too is that I think it's shifted from being primarily Spanish-type bilingual education. And then we had this whole influx of Asians come in and how were we adapting to that − that was a big transition. And I don't know what role bilingual education played for them. JOE: But there wasn't such a thing, though, as bilingual education. SPEAKER 3: Not when we went to school. JOE: When the Italian who came from Italy… SPEAKER 4: That's right. JOE: Or the Italian kid grew up in an Italian household where the parents spoke Italian, there were no such thing as bilingual education. You go to school; you learn how to speak English. And that was it. SPEAKER 1: Is it possible that the other ethnic groups now coming in have assimilated more quickly because they don't have bilingual education [unintelligible - 00:31:36] Spanish? JOE: I hope so. The only answer I can give you is, I hope so; because they're going find out their success is going to come quicker. PELINO: Okay, I think that Vinny said it well, what he said [unintelligible - 00:31:48] was transitional bilingual education. And there is a transition that needs to take place. In my own experience, while I very quickly picked up, let's say, the street language, I was able to converse, you know, very quickly, inside of three, four months. Part of that was the fact that I spent my first summer with one of my great aunts in Michigan City, Indiana. And she had a nephew that came to visit that summer, who was also nine years old; you know, my age. She didn't speak any Italian. Her nephew did not. My uncle had his own business selling Italian grocery products and did a lot of traveling, so I spent the whole day with her and 15 her nephew Floyd; go to the beach every day, every couple of weeks. We saved up enough money from cashing in bottles and cans. She would take us to Chicago, and, you know, go to a museum. I remember the stockyards; huge, huge. I couldn't believe how big the stockyards were at the time. So I assimilated the English language quickly, but only in terms of being able to speak in everyday terms, okay. School was a different matter. And I think this is partly what, you know, Vinny is speaking about in that I had to − similar to what he… he used his other foreign languages to translate into English − okay, I was doing the same thing in Italian. It wasn't until the 7th Grade, in junior high school, that I was finally able to read a Science or Mathematics problem in English and think in English. Prior to that time, I read it in English. If Jean was my teacher, I could read that book, just like I can read Latin; doesn't mean I understand it but I can read it. I can pronounce, okay. The fact was that it wasn't until then that I was actually doing my thinking in English. Prior to that, my thought process was in Italian and it was slower; because I had to read it in English or hear what the person was saying in English, translate it internally into Italian, get the answer or get the understanding, and then send it back out in English. One of the differences, as Jean mentioned, some of the other ethnic groups is that they have an advantage in that they're smaller in numbers, okay. They also come with, perhaps, some different priorities. And the… most people in the area associate bilingual education with Hispanics. But that's only because that particular language group is here. If you go in to Boston, Vinny would tell you they probably have a couple dozen of bilingual programs in all kinds of languages, okay, because they have the population that required that and the program that was needed to support that population. There is a need for a transition. I know of family members, I know of others who came and, you know, you were drawn into school, sink or swim, immersion. That's the term they use, immersion, okay. And I was able to survive that; but there are others that did not. I 16 think if we think back into our own families and we go back and think long enough, we'll find a number of people who, because of that immersion − because perhaps the support wasn't there at home to say that education is a priority for you, I want you to succeed, that's your future.− it became easier sometimes because of family need or whatever, everybody else, they drop out of school and go to work to help support the family. And there was a lot of that that happened. If anything, the transitional bilingual education program helps to keep kids in school. We don't gain anything. The individual doesn't gain. The family doesn't gain. Society doesn't gain when anybody drops out of school. I mean we [unintelligible - 00:36:07] you that. Nobody gains by that experience. And I think that anything we can do to keep kids in school, you know, for the full term is going to pay dividends. And if bilingual education, you know, comes with a cost, − yes it does; and it should be transitional − but as Vinny said, you know, some people can do it in one year and we used to get kids out of the program in a year; some took two, most took three. We had very few that stayed beyond the four year – the three years. As a matter of fact, it was school committee policy; as Assistant Superintendent, I would have to present the case to the school committee and ask them to allow, upon recommendation of the Bilingual Director and the teachers and the principal, to allow youngsters to stay in their program for longer than three years. And I never made any request more than three or four or five in any given year, out of over a hundred, 120, 130 kids in the bilingual program. So you know there has to be a balance. Yes, I understand, you know… where Joe and others are coming from. I have the same feelings. You fear as an individual, you need to make an effort to assimilate into the society. I mean that's why you're here. SPEAKER 2: [Unintelligible - 00:37:20]. JOE: But you need to keep your own culture too. I'm sorry, the same way that you are that my kids don't speak Italian. That's my fault.17 SPEAKER 2: Yes, yes. They're with more pressure. VINCENT(?): [Unintelligible - 00:37:31] okay. JOE: Now my grandparents [unintelligible - 00:37:36]. Okay, because and you ask, why did they come to Leominster, why did they come to Pittsfield? Because family was there! There wasn't such a thing as aid welfare, okay. Families took care of families; so it was important that they learned quickly so they can go out and work, can make their money and get their own apartment. There were very few Italian people those days owned their own home, you know; families – if you lost your job, you moved in with a sister or brother, with your family, and you'd share. So the need to learn was much quicker then. Today, you sign up, you get welfare, you get relief. And for some that's very important, I understand that, okay? But we also have maybe taken away incentive for some of these people. We make it too easy for some. VINCENT: You know, it's very interesting to notice that these problems that the United States have been experiencing for maybe the past 20 or 30 years are now occurring all over the world. I mentioned that my niece was visiting from Italy just this summer and it was tied to all the terrorist happenings. So she was able to visit many areas in the United States very freely, without hindrance, which would probably not be the case now. But talking to her, she would mention that even in Italy, there are a lot of immigrants; Albania, for instance, from North Africa. And these are people that say we know our rights. They pitch their tent in the public square and they're expecting the municipal services to provide for them. And of course, one of the complaints was that you couldn't hear the church bells because they had their loudspeakers announcing the Muslim rituals of prayer every so many hours. And there too, you have a clash of cultures. Of course, they wouldn't come to Italy if they weren't looking for a little better life than what they had where they left. And what are you going to do with them? You have to take care of the children, make sure they go to school, make sure that you could teach them in whatever 18 language they're using. Now I'm sure that the resources are smaller in a country like Italy. They're not the same as the resources that are available in a country like United States − and yet the problem is there. And if you don't want to have problems like they have in the Balkan countries or in the Middle East, you have to try to accommodate these different cultures the best way you can. And I think education, although it will not solve all the problems, if you can keep the kids in school and if the kids can get along with other kids, Albanian, Italian, from Morocco, from Algeria, from Tunis, whatever, then maybe you wouldn't have a kind of topsy-turvy world that we're presented with or that we have to cope with. So this idea of education, in a narrow sense, yes, it's important to a certain ethnic cultural entity. But in a larger sense, the world is very small now. Email goes everywhere. CNN and all the public media present you with pictures that you can't turn off. And maybe we don't have the skills just yet to cope with this kind of change, but we have to use what we have and do the best we can. And I think that maybe education is the place to start. You got to figure out what do those people need. Well, they need a job and they need to make money. And they need to have a sense of self-worth. If you tell them that, you know, that in your country, new laws apply; they should go to church, not to a mosque. Well, then you start to challenge them at their very core and you started to develop resentment. And you can't do that anymore, because even though you may have the might, there are people that if you put them or their shoulder against the wall, just like an animal which can't escape, they'll do anything that may destroy themselves in the process but will harm you; and at all cost, you want to avoid that. So that's the way I see education as a central issue for the world. It may not solve all the problems, but it sure is a good start. SPEAKER 5: It's a common denominator. In the same way that Joe talked about breaking down some of the barriers between the state of French and the Italians. There were sports, okay. The minute they started to integrate to athletics and then you made friends, you know, from the different ethnic 19 groups and that started to break down the barriers. And in the larger sense, education I think, you know, serves in the same way. We have much more common in this world than we have differences. And maybe Vincent is right. We just don't have the skills yet, perhaps, and the knowledge not to recognize that or deal with it. SPEAKER 1: But it also seems to be a logistical nightmare and financially impossible to offer bilingual education to all ethnic groups, so where do we go from here? PELINO: Well, those are the limitations. SPEAKER 5: It boils down to people who are called legislators, telling us what to do because it is popular with some people, okay. Educators don't go into factories and tell people how to run the electronics factory, okay? Bilingual education and all the laws that are coming out now are made by people who really don't know about education. MCast, I don't think educators are quote against MCast as such but they're against the fact that people are making the rules for MCast and they really don't know what they're looking for, okay. And that's what's happening and that's what's turning people off about education. Educate – legislators, they've got their fingers into education, much too much, and should leave it to the people who are trained to do it. PELINO: But the legislators are the ones that provide the resources. VINCENT: Unfortunate. PELINO: You know I can think of so many things, I'm sure all of us, the hundred plus billion dollars, billion dollars that we spent fighting the Gulf War − and that was a very brief period of time − I don't know who's going to tally up how much you know disengagement is going to cost. But there's a cost. And what happens is that the need is felt to be so immediate, whether it's a threat or whatever, that all kinds of resources and money go into it without really balancing isn't worth it. And I'm not saying it's not, okay. But we seem to respond to those kinds of crisis in an immediate way with all kinds of resources and yet when you look at education, when 20 you look at some of the other health, you know, human needs that people have, we don't see those problems with the same kind of immediacy…/AT/jf/mjv/mm

Part one of an interview with George Antonioni. Topics include: Family history. How his mother started in the restaurant business and opened the Lazy A and then the Il Camino. What it was like making pizza and working in the Lazy A. How his parents came to the U.S. from Italy. His parents settled in Leominster. Italian clubs in the Fitchburg-Leominster area. George's childhood memories of food, reading, and travel. Speaking English at home. His mother's work history. Working in the family restaurant business. George's education and work as a principal and teacher in the Leominster school system. How he knew Norma, his wife. ; 1 WENDY: This is Wendy Rhodes online with the Center for Italian Culture at Fitchburg State College. It's Monday, September 24th, 10:20 AM, and we're here at the home of… GEORGE: George Antonioni, 24 Dillon Street, Leominster, Massachusetts. WENDY: Okay, and with us is… ANNE: Anne Masifero. WENDY: And… NORMA: With Norma. WENDY: Okay. So George, thank you for agreeing to do this, first of all, and maybe we should start with the restaurant business. Can you tell me about your parents? GEORGE: Yes. My parents came over as children; in fact, they came over the same year, 1916. My mother was 10 years old and my father was 12. And they grew up… my father at first was in Oakdale living with his uncle on a farm, and upon reaching 16, he moved back to the Leominster-Fitchburg area. My mother lived down on the Railroad Street with her parents until she, uh, married my father at which time they moved to Leominster because they both worked at DuPont. And over the years, my mother always had a yen to cook. WENDY: Could you just tell us your mother's name? Including… GEORGE: Ilda, Ilda Cattel. And, um, in fact they lived in Fitchburg. And as we grew up, my parents, of course, were not able to go to school too long. My mother stopped school at the age of 13, and my father at about 14 or 15. But my mother was tri-lingual; she could speak French, Italian, English and wrote as well as any high school student. And my father was a well-educated man for he always read, and they insisted on us studying at all times. We were at times a semi-Italian family and other times an American family. We did not speak Italian at home. But during the war, my mother finally convinced my father that perhaps she could have a restaurant.2 WENDY: And which for? Which restaurant? GEORGE: This was the Lazy A Restau-, at World War II. And upon coming home, my mother was cooking in the house and sending products out. She was making a lot of pizza and éclairs. And then, in 1948 they started The Lazy A Restaurant. It's not an Italian name, but that was the lazy Antonioni's. WENDY: [Unintelligible - 00:02:57] GEORGE: You could not be lazy there. WENDY: So where does the term "lazy" come from? GEORGE: My brother, I believe, thought of the name The Lazy A. And so we carried that restaurant for 10 years, I believe; and it probably was the third Italian restaurant that the city had had because Monti's was, I believe, the first and still in existence, and that was started way in the '30s. And then for a brief period there was another Italian restaurant, Concheto's. You probably remember that. That was very highly successful but did not stay in business for too long. And then The Lazy A came in. And The Lazy A is now called The Gondola and it's still in business. And then… WENDY: Where is The Lazy A? GEORGE: On Lancaster Street. WENDY: Now, is this close to where you lived? GEORGE: Yes, we lived on Longwood Avenue, so the house was on Longwood Avenue and the restaurant was on Lancaster Street. [We're home from three blocks] straight through, so there's no problem about having to travel; and I had married and my wife came to Leominster to live, and we stayed with my folks because I was still in college, and we're all working in the restaurant. And then we get out of the business, and my mother got anxious again and wanted to go back in business again, and so they started the Il Camino Restaurant, which is down on Central Street. And that too was a highly successful restaurant; but at this time they start and 3 get up in age, you know. My brother was not interested in taking it over; he was a lawyer and I had just been promoted to junior high school principalship, so I wasn't interested in taking the business over. Only my wife was, and we didn't do it. So it's a strange thing. We sold the Lazy A to Mary and Gus Lelli; and Gus is a partner in the business, and his wife is an Angelini. And then when we sold the Il Camino, that's Lelli's wife's sister is an Angelini also. Well, married and this [Chikielini], and her daughter bought the restaurant; so we actually sold it both times to Angelinis, but the Daigneault's on it 'cause the husband is a survivor. WENDY: Okay. The Angelini… GEORGE: Still a lot of Angelinis. WENDY: I haven't interviewed anyone yet by that name. But getting back to the restaurant business, can you explain a little bit more about your mother? You said that she started making éclairs and pizza? GEORGE: Yes. WENDY: So what does that mean? She made it for whom? GEORGE: Well, we lived at -- the Lancaster Street lots faced DuPont, and my mother was known as a very good cook. And she used to make pizza, and so they would order it from her. So when they left on Fridays especially, she would have a large number of pizzas and have it delivered at DuPont. And éclairs. Because of those, they didn't eat meat on Friday evening. So pizza was a big item. So we take over 30, 40, 50 pizzas; and so my father knew that the business would succeed. But just in case the business did not succeed, the original building was such that you could convert it easily into a four-room house. So the financial risk wasn't as great as it probably would have been if you built it as a restaurant per se. WENDY: Who made all of the bread dough or the pizza dough?4 GEORGE: We made it. What we would do on a Friday, my mother would be the cook and take care of all the restaurant part. My father and my brother would be making the pizzas, that is, putting the ingredients on; and we had another person who'd be rolling the dough. We didn't flip it like they do now; we bought a pie-making machine, okay, down in Boston, and my mother had bought some dough down there and she worked it around and they could get a nice round pizza right there, so. I think they bought it from Johnson and Johnson, and I think after that Johnson and Johnson's [unintelligible - 00:07:51] the pie-making machine is a pizza machine also, because it's… WENDY: Can you explain the workings of it? GEORGE: Well, I guess if you… all it was a set of rollers, and you would feed the dough through the roller and it'd shape it as you push the tube. And you get any size you want depending on how big the pizza dough you put through. And then you put it in the pan and you put all of them aside and let them raise. Because on those days, raised pizza dough was the rage. It wasn't like today where you have all the thin pizza crust. It was still thick dough on those days. WENDY: Now, is that called Sicilian? GEORGE: Now they call it Sicilian pizza, but everybody who made pizza in the old days was more of a half-inch thick. WENDY: And what kind of toppings? GEORGE: On the toppings, my brother and my father would put tomato, a little bit of oregano, grated cheese -- the mozzarella hadn't really come in yet because mozzarella's a later thing. But those days it was grated cheese, and we put on anchovies. Friday was popular. At the end of the week, you put peppers, onions and hamburg. We use to call that The Summer Special. And while they did all that work, I had the easy job; all I did was answer the telephone, wrap 5 it in, give the pizzas to the customers. For two hours that's all I did. WENDY: That's all you do? GEORGE: That's how big a business it was. WENDY: We can stop and take a break. GEORGE: Excuse me? WENDY: Would you like to stop? GEORGE: Yeah, I get a… WENDY: Okay. GEORGE: We had a very big business, very big business. And of course, Norma was out, blown all the way to sink. As I said, Norma would be there also and she'll be a waitress and take care of the dining room; and then when the other girls came in, Norma's day was not done. Now she became my mother's assistant and go on with cooking also. WENDY: So you must have liked it. NORMA: I did like it. WENDY: Sounds like a lot NORMA: [Unintelligible - 00:10:08] WENDY: You don't mind doing it. NORMA: I don't mind doing it. GEORGE: When I married Norma, she didn't know how to cook. WENDY: I guess that helps [laughter]. GEORGE: Norma was working… well, in the economy [unintelligible - 00:10:25] things like that. Actually she was down at the MIT Lincoln Lab a while also. So she had been around, but she didn't cook, assisted with the cooking at home. NORMA: I was the cleaner. WENDY: You were the cleaner? I could see why you'd want to learn how to cook then.6 GEORGE: But now she's an excellent cook. My brother said she's the best in the family on cooking. From a beginner to the top. And that's pretty how much we did it. WENDY: Let me clarify something. You said that your mother began with the pizzas and the éclairs because she was primarily catering to the DuPont crowd and you would bring them. Now, was the restaurant open? GEORGE: No, not at that time. And just before we opened, actually, she was delivering pizzas on Friday noontime to Foster [Grant], which was a big company in town on those days, and -- I still have one of the big pants that we used to use. And we'd take those up there and they would sell them in their lunchroom, because they had a lunchroom. It was such a big place and they'd buy four to six sheets of pizza every Friday. WENDY: And then they would reheat them, or…? GEORGE: Well, they come up hot and we'd give them right up there to them. And I don't think they had to reheat them, but they would sell them. And it's quite a thing. She had a going business before she was even opening the door. WENDY: Yeah, when did she begin making the pizzas to deliver on that Friday? GEORGE: The delivering of the pizzas started during the war after I had gone into the service. So by 1945 I'd say she started doing it regularly. WENDY: But as she began making the pizzas, you said that she would deliver them on Fridays but it must have been a process all week? Can you… GEORGE: No, no. WENDY: No? GEORGE: No, to make the pizza, you can make the dough couple hours ahead of time to get it raised, and then we'll start cooking them. Doesn't7 take long. Pizza's a quick item, actually, and it cooks in 15 minutes at the most. WENDY: So there wasn't a lot of preparation? NORMA: She got up early in the morning. GEORGE: On that day, yeah. WENDY: Preparing time. GEORGE: Because she did éclairs also, she'd make huge trays of éclairs. She used to make them with a custard filling, and people liked them. She'd been making those before. My mother was an excellent baker. She was very good at baking, and people knew it and they would call up and ask her to make éclairs. She wasn't a cookie person, you know. People think of Italians as cookie persons, but my mother was more cakes and éclairs, cream puffs. WENDY: Did she bring any of those recipes from the old country? GEORGE: No, I don't believe so, 'cause she came over as a -- as I say she was nine, ten years old depending on what part of the year she came over 'cause she was born on 1906 and she came over in 1916, so. WENDY: But her mother -- did she travel with her mother to this country? GEORGE: She came over with her mother. In fact, [pure witness of the game], she came over on the same trip. We have a picture of them in my daughter's house. My daughter's great aunt [unintelligible - 00:14:01] old family pictures, and she's got one on the wall there, my grandmother coming over with the girls. [Unintelligible - 00:14:10] four with my Ma on that picture? NORMA: Four of them at that time. GEORGE: See? That had to be quite a trip. Mother coming with four daughters. WENDY: Did you hear anything about the trip? GEORGE: My mother used to talk about it, yeah. They had a lot of trouble on that ship coming over. I think there was a murder. The ship had 8 been used when they came over to transport some beef, and all these people going back spat up and get rowdy and they had trouble amongst themselves, and there were submarines. It was not a pleasure cruise. So it was… I imagine it was a howling experience. WENDY: So she traveled here with her and mother and her sisters. GEORGE: Yeah, came directly to Fitchburg. WENDY: Did anyone else travel with them? GEORGE: Not to my knowledge. They came as a family unit, and that was it. WENDY: But you have an uncle or a brother. GEORGE: Well, my grandfather was already over here, and she had been over here before. WENDY: Your grandmother? GEORGE: Yeah. She had been over here before. My mother had never been here before. My grandmother had been here to visit my grandfather obviously; and same thing with my father, he came over with his father, though, and then his mother was supposed to come over with the sisters. So one of the sisters was [unintelligible - 00:15:47] and they had to wait 'til she got married, you know, before they could come over. And in the meantime, my grandfather on my father's side went back, but he left my father here with his brother down in Oakdale. And my father never saw his father again, actually, 'cause he didn't go back. WENDY: Okay. GEORGE: He was working on the railroad, the reservoir, one or the other. Because right there in Oakdale, we have a big sand area that they were using, and my uncle's farm was probably half a mile away to the woods, which I've traveled many times. So it wasn't too far to go to work, and he's kept working there, and then he'd go back to Italy. All these men in the old days used to leave home and go to 9 work, make some money and go back the other way. So they have made many trips. In fact, they have a watch. It's in the bank vault right now, but it was my grandfather's watch and it's 1885. So he had made trips over here previous of that trip. WENDY: Your grandfather was here and your father was here. GEORGE: Yeah, they stayed on the farm. WENDY: Okay, and how old was your father when he made the trip? GEORGE: He would be 12. WENDY: About 12. What part of Italy did they come from, your father? GEORGE: My father came from what you'd call Central Italy on the Adriatic side, and it is what they call them the Marque. And [unintelligible - 00:17:38] is the big city where he came from; they lived around the city. Then my mother came from up in Revine. That's not the one everybody thinks of. They always think of Ravena along Maine, this is only Revine, it's R-E-V-I-N-E, and it's way, way up in the mountains. The closest town you'd recognize would probably be Cortina. It was a mile away, up in the Dolomites. I was there, so. WENDY: Oh. GEORGE: I was there this past November. I've been there twice, actually. It's really out there, it's really out there. Oh yeah, one of the cousins. They're at Pieve di Cadore. We visit those places twice. I've been to my father's area once. We stayed there four days when I went to visit my uncles, you know. We took the children over one time to see the whole place. WENDY: When you say they're out there, what did you mean by that? GEORGE: You mean…? WENDY: You said the village with your uncle. GEORGE: Oh, it's really out there, way out in the boonies. It's really interesting. In fact, the village is practically dying, but now we went back this last time, this restaurant is building a huge 10 conference [sauna there]. So that might revive town. I think there was 60 to… like 60 children on the school system, so that tells you how the town was going down, down, down. But as I say, there's a hotel-restaurant that's building a -- 100 or 500 units they wanna build there. It's gonna be big. And you wonder how anybody's gonna get there, but they're gonna get there, you know. NORMA: I forgot to tell you that his mother lived in a castle. GEORGE: [Laughter] NORMA: They called it a castle, and it looks like a castle. GEORGE: But it's not really a castle, you know… NORMA: They called it's a castle, though. GEORGE: Yeah. That had to had been either some nobleman's home or a religious site at one time, but you still got the [slots] where they used to pick the gums on the arrow, so you know, it's interesting. WENDY: And they lived there just their family? GEORGE: That time it was just their family, yeah. But now, I think it's just their family again. But they have a system over in Italy that they sold parts of the houses. So… you own this section and you own that section and I own this section, but they bought the whole thing back now, so they own the whole thing. But [unintelligible - 00:20:24] of Pieve di Cadore, we three families that own parts of that house, it's almost like each one had own tenement; and we're not talking condos. These are old houses, and that's the way it was. WENDY: Do they all have a private bathroom? GEORGE: They have private bathrooms, but then there's a general bathroom on one floor that you can use. They're well-constructed houses, nice houses, and it's a nice area [unintelligible - 00:21:15] 'cause the air is clear as a bell, and… the scenery is magnificent. WENDY: Are there any tales about Ma leaving the village and going to the port city to come here?11 GEORGE: No, no. My mother didn't say too much about that. But once again, her family had been in the United States, aunts and uncles, what have you. They have been coming here since the 1800s at the Civil War. In fact, one part of the family had an open-air kitchen; they used to sell down in Pennsylvania down in the coal mine areas. But if you're familiar with the United States' history, the coalminers' staff had a lot of trouble unionizing and all that stuff, and things got very, very… bad. And fighting and things were going on, so they came back home. And they also had a catering business up in Pieve di Cadore. So they were hardworking people; they've been all over. My grandfather had been all over Europe and [unintelligible - 00:22:33] in Turkey as well as United States before he decided to settle here. WENDY: And why is it that they decided to… GEORGE: Well, it's like everybody else. They're looking for a good life and avoid turmoil. In Europe, there was always turmoil, or had always been, always building fortifications and things like that type of war, so they come over here. WENDY: And then specifically took the [unintelligible - 00:23:00]? GEORGE: Well, someone went to Fitchburg, maybe to work up in the quarry, because the Venetians, which my mother is, they're [unintelligible - 00:23:14] way up on top of the hill over towards the quarry. And that's where they lived, most of them. My grandfather lived down in the, what we call the patch area, but most of the Venetians didn't live there; they lived way up to what we call [unintelligible - 00:23:33]. And I don't know how many families there were about, but there weren't too many Venetians. They had their own club and everything; they tended to segregate just like all the Italians in -- you came from one section of Italy, you went to that club, you didn't go to any other clubs. Like in Leominster, there were six or seven Italian clubs. Can you imagine that? They 12 work, and all of those, I would say, work within a half-mile radius, seven clubs, six or seven clubs. WENDY: The club brings up an interesting question. Do people consider themselves Italian or do they consider themselves part of a particular region? GEORGE: I think when they talk amongst themselves, they were Veneziano, [unintelligible - 00:24:31], Sicilian or whatever. Of course the Sicilians tend to think of themselves as separate anyway. If you've ever been to Sicily, they don't call themselves Italians; they're Sicilians. But on Lancaster Street itself, there were one, two, three, four, five clubs within a quarter mile. We go from [unintelligible - 00:24:56], there were five clubs. And there was one on the back of [unintelligible - 00:25:01], I was a Saladini and then you had Colombo Hall on the [unintelligible - 00:25:06]. Can you imagine? What other nationality would do that? WENDY: Right. GEORGE: They did it, and Fitchburg -- or at least three, I think. That doesn't help you any, you know. In those days when you want them to do something, you need political power. You still do, and they were fragmented, you know. WENDY: Is there any attempt to unify? GEORGE: There was the Sons of Italy, but the Sons of Italy was never strong up in this area. In fact, even to this day it's basically a social club, I think, if anything. I think it exists, but that's what it is. They don't get that involved in politics, to my knowledge. But I don't know. WENDY: Why don't we talk about the particular club that your parents had joined? GEORGE: My father, even though we lived in Leominster, did not join one of the clubs in Leominster because he'd grown up in, you know, from 16 on or 17, he had lived in Fitchburg; so all his friends were up 13 there and he was one of the incorporators of the Marconi Club, [unintelligible - 00:26:23] founder of the club. And so he never left that club. And in fact I joined it for a while, but there was no call for me to go up to Fitchburg if I want to join the club, so I stayed there for two years. But I remember that club, they started up in, you know, room in a three-decker, and they move around, I guess to find the cheapest rent, and they finally decided to build the club that they had still in existence. They were hardworking people. I remember them working in the wintertime building that thing. And imagine, you'd get some man outside, [unintelligible - 00:27:09] out there, banging away on its soles and soils, trying to get the trench in so they could get the water. And [unintelligible - 00:27:19] was doing some of the brick masonry, and you know, lock in all that [unintelligible - 00:27:24] working away, donating their services for their club. WENDY: Why do you think they found it important to join? GEORGE: I think everybody has to belong to something, and that was their -- they're with a feeling they belong and they felt safe with these people. They grew up with them; a lot of them were childhood friends from the old country. It's like talking… well, if you went to the California and suddenly there's 10 Leominster people there, families, they'll just have to stick together. Especially in those days when language was a problem. WENDY: Do different regions of Italians have trouble talking to each other? GEORGE: It can happen. The language picks up certain sounds. For example, in the [uplands] who probably pick up a little of the French accent; and if you live up where my mother comes from, sometimes the words sound almost Germanic. I still maintain that when I sit there and listen to some of these people talk from that region, "strada" was almost like "strasa" at times, you know. And then if you go down to Sicily, I think the two regions are so far 14 apart that language is a part of the problem. They all had their own idiosyncrasies and what have you. See, in the United States, it isn't quite as bad, you know. We all understand each other. Some of those have their pronunciation, but it isn't that much different than the [unintelligible - 00:29:15], you know. WENDY: On Americanization classes, I realize that both of your parents came here at a young age, so they maybe learned in a public school. What about your grandparents? GEORGE: My grandparents, I'm not sure what they did. I think in those days, you could -- if my grandfather, which he must have done, gone to classes, I think you could get your whole family in under your citizenship. You didn't have to go yourself. The wife and children, I think, automatically could become citizens when you did. So, I'm sure when he was back in Italy, he'd be going to night school, because he was another person who loves to read. I still remember my grandfather reading all the time. He's like my father. The two men in my life were men who liked to read with an educating process on. My father still read the Italian newspaper almost 'til the day he died; and the only reason why he read it was so he wouldn't lose his language because there was no one to speak to anymore in Italian, a very few people. So he kept getting the Italian newspaper. WENDY: Now, is that something that the club perpetuated, with the Italian language? GEORGE: No, no. When I became a member of the club which was after the War of Ceylon, 1947, '48, a lot of the discussions were in English even though they're all old Italians, most of them. They all would speak in English at the meetings. Otherwise, the guys like myself who would be new members and young -- you know what happens to the young guy, he becomes the secretary. They were talking in 15 Italian, it wouldn't come out like so. They pretty well-learned how to speak English. The men did anyway. Some of the women… I won't say their station in life, but what they did, they didn't go anywhere in those days. You know, it's not like today; we all get in the car and take off. The women tended to stay home more. Now, the women do the driving half the time, so. But those days, women didn't go too far. WENDY: What kinds of things do they do at the club? GEORGE: Well, the men, if they went on their own, the Marconi Club was a little different. For a while they even had a [unintelligible - 00:32:06], but that didn't last too long because it's kinda noisy when they're busy playing cards. Most of the men would play a game they call three-seven, and they played for the beverages or candy bars or whatever you wanted. If you won the game, you either could have a glass of beer or candy bar or whatever. But big gambling games, I never witnessed any of them. They might have had some, but most of the men were there just for recreation; they weren't there to make a fortune. And actually, before I went to the service, there were a group of bakers. They would come in on Friday night at 11 o'clock, they're all done working for the weekend, and they started to bring in pizzas; they bring a tray of pizza, and they hand it out. After a while they began to smarten up, you know, but more and more people were coming, and now they bring two trays, three trays, so they start to sell the pizza. But I remember my father waiting for them to come in on a Friday night so we could have a slice of pizza, each of them. We'd take one home to my mother, maybe two slices probably 'cause my brother was old enough, so we have family pizza by the pan they were selling it, you know. And it became a big business up there. I think the Marconi Club kept 16 selling pizza, spaghetti, and cola very recently. It's quite a business. WENDY: Was the club open every day? GEORGE: The club used to open up generally at night because most of the days the men were working. But then later on the club opened up in the afternoon, and I don't know what it's doing now. I hadn't been there in many, many, many years. WENDY: So who would round the club? GEORGE: They would have the board of directors, so to speak; and then they would have a bartender, and then the treasurer acted like the steward. So that's how they ran it. And you had your monthly meetings, and the steward would get up and explain how much money came in, how much money went out, all that, you know. Every month was a big time financial statement. We got news of how little money came in or how much, it was always the important thing. WENDY: Were there dues? GEORGE: Yeah, we used to pay, I think $1 a month, and it was a… we'll get [in club] in that if you get sick, you would pay the sick benefit. It wasn't very much money, I mean, it could probably get $8, $10 a week, which was not big money, but it helped out with the fee, with the salaries were in those days. But if you were very, very careful, you just didn't get it for staying home. You had to be sick; and if you're sick, you get the benefit. 'Cause the sick committee was always checking, so it's quite a thing. You had to see it to believe it, because everybody want to take care of everybody but nobody wanted anybody checking what they were supposed to be doing, you know. So it's good, it was a nice club. Then they used to run some dances. Dances weren't too successful there for some reason, but they ran a few. In fact, and I played for 17 a couple of them with our sisters. Yeah, we talked about all-girl band [laughter]. NORMA: I can't believe I'm hearing those stuff. GEORGE: They were the originals. So that worked out. And one of the strange things was—I don't know if Anne remembers this—we even had Italian prisoners of war up there one time. Were you there? [Laughter] ANNE: [Unintelligible - 00:36:17] GEORGE: [Laughter] World War II. A lot of Italians were taken prisoner, so there are a lot of them down in Boston. And apparently Italian prisoners of war weren't considered dangerous, so on a Saturday night they would take them out or something and -- to different club and organizations. So we have a dance or something, they came up once or twice to my knowledge, and they circulated with the people, and they'll look at and then women talk to them because they see if they knew anybody from where they came from, you know, hope against hope, you know my family or something, you know. But down in Boston, they'd be there out all the time. In fact, some of them married Boston girls after the war. WENDY: Was there any marriage in here? GEORGE: Not to my knowledge, no. But down in Boston, there were. They used to have the fence and the girls would go over them and talk to them. In fact, I was just reading a book about the Italian prisoners of war down in Alabama and how friendly they became with the girls down there. They'd go up to work in the fields and what have you as prisoners of war. So everybody knew them. And I ran into one of them when I was in the army. I was going overseas in California, and the Italian prisoners of war were doing the cooking and I was with the KP to get that one out. When you stand there and you're cleaning out a soup tureen and the Italian isn't, you won the war. We're winning this war. And they used to say they 18 had, you know, an American soldier got this beer garden at the camp; they used to say the Italians and the wine garden—I don't know how true that was but that was one of the stories. That's when I was on camp Enza, guess that was outside of Riverside, California. But a lot of strange things in this world. WENDY: Let's get back to your childhood. You said that you grew up in a home that was half-American, half-Italian? GEORGE: Yeah. On a Wednesday night, you know, they say that's Italian spaghetti night, we might be having corned beef and cabbage. My father since he was alone used to eat in diners a lot, 'cause he lived in boarding houses 'til he get married. So he picked up all these habits of different food, and when he married my mother, my mother said, "What would you like to eat?" And he'd say, "I like those, I like that." So we used to eat a lot of those things, you know. WENDY: Now, how did she learn how to cook corned beef and cabbage? GEORGE: What? WENDY: How did she learn how to cook something like that? GEORGE: My mother was very clever when it came to cooking. She could make almost anything taste great. In fact, I used to go up to my mother's after I was married many, many years. We'd go up and have corned beef. I still like corned beef. So we just have all these -- lot of American food. We were not heavy on ravioli and things of that type 'cause my mother worked in the factory all the time, so those things took time to prepare. You gotta make the ravioli and things like that, you've got to… so we [unintelligible - 00:40:01] things like that, but not all the time. WENDY: But there must have been other differences besides the food. GEORGE: Well, we're only two boys in those days, so we traveled around a lot, and my father had a car, we always had a car. And most of the people stay pretty much in the neighborhood, so we would always 19 be going someplace. Like they had taken me to the World's Fair back in late '30s, things of that type. So we're going places. My father -- I still remember my father taking me to the library when I was -- my first trip to the library. When I took my daughter to the first trip to the library, things hadn't changed in the Leominster Library in those days, so we went there. It reminded me of when I went with my father. And they always let me read, you know. On those days, you weren't supposed to read comic books because they weren't good for you. My father let me read comic books, and that was very good because you picked up vocabulary. You learn a lot of vocabulary and you learn a lot of history. And so he constantly would buy me -- books were never a problem. WENDY: You said you went to the World's Fair. GEORGE: Yeah. WENDY: He drove to New York? GEORGE: We took the bus. WENDY: Okay. GEORGE: We took the bus. Of course that was quite an experience because, you know, the bus stops periodically for a rest stop and something to eat, so my brother and I thought it was the greatest thing ever because every time we stop, we get something to eat, you know, candy bars or something. I always had something. And we got to New York and we stayed at my aunt's. She was a nurse in New York, Mrs. Andriski, and she goes down in Oakdale actually, and she and her girlfriend who came from Fitchburg also were nurses. So they worked nights, so we were there and there was no [intrusion] upon them 'cause they weren't there anyway. And during the day we'd go to the fair. It's quite a thing. WENDY: World Fair in Italian Pavilion? GEORGE: Oh, yeah, we went to the Italian Pavilion. That was a one-week first stops, and then we went to the G Building and we did our 20 rounds. It was quite a thing. [Unintelligible - 00:42:35] obviously to see the Magna Carta, still remember that. And Crown Jewels. So it was interesting. My mother was -- I keep saying my father, but my mother was a real [unintelligible - 00:42:51] on this occasion. She made sure there was a Parent's Day; she made sure my father went because he would be working nights so he could go on the daytime. Those days, you'd want in the daytime for most of these things, so he would go. He'd be the only man on the room unless Mr. Anderson -- he was the only other man that'd be there. Usually all these Italian women are sitting there, listening, and there'd be my father and Mr. Anderson. At nighttime, it was a far from -- she'd be there. She'd always be there. School was important to her; and in fact, more important than my father. My father always believed that you could trade some things like that, and he was like trades can do the same thing for you that college can. But she was always, "You gotta go to school." WENDY: So there was never a question of you or your brother going to college. GEORGE: No. We'll always gonna go to school, that was a given. And make sure we got enough good grades to go [unintelligible - 00:44:07] hear about it when report card came. It worked out good. WENDY: So you never felt any influence to go into the restaurant business? GEORGE: No, no. They never tried to talk me into [unintelligible - 00:44:22] restaurant business. I have, when it comes to cooking and labor, I have two left hands, so it wouldn't work. Right, Norma? It would not work. NORMA: [Unintelligible - 00:44:37]. I couldn't tell. GEORGE: They used to put me out front. You're the maître d'. Get [unintelligible - 00:44:43] kitchen. It's dangerous. WENDY: Did you say that your mother was tri-lingual, or is that your grandmother?21 GEORGE: My mother. She would -- spoke French fluently, and she could speak Croatian French. WENDY: [Unintelligible - 00:45:00] she lived in the [unintelligible - 00:45:03] area? GEORGE: No, she lived down the patch, that's Italian. Italian and Sicilian. But when she worked in the factory as a little girl -- 'cause she was only 13 when she started, she started to pick up all these languages. All of that language -- as you well know; the younger you are on foreign languages, the better off you are. And she's being young like that, she paid attention, and she could talk French. WENDY: Did she ever try to teach you? GEORGE: Teach me French? No. Once I got into the… fourth, fifth grade, I think they decided that they might have made a mistake in not teaching us Italian. So they'd send me off to St. Anthony's for a couple of weeks in the summertime, and my mother got a whole set of Italian grammar books for kids, and she start to teach me some Italian. But by that time, it was too late. I did take Italian in high school, though. It was too late. I understood it and I could read it, but I couldn't speak it. WENDY: In the home, they always spoke English, too? GEORGE: No, they talk Italian when they didn't want us to understand, but they soon discovered that was a mistake, especially with me. They knew I could talk Italian, I could understand it. I wouldn't speak it, but -- in fact, my grandmother was very upset that they weren't teaching us to speak Italian when we were little kids, but I think my father wanted to make sure we were fluent in English, learn what would be our mother tongue, English, you know, and I was -- so that's what you had to do. WENDY: It's interesting that your grandmother felt differently. GEORGE: Yeah, yeah. WENDY: Can you remember any discussions or anything?22 GEORGE: No, I just… I know that she was upset that we didn't speak Italian. My grandfather didn't seem to bother at, all but he always talked English to me anyway so, you know, you'll never -- my grandmother would mix the two languages a lot but my grandfather was -- you'd think he came from America too. WENDY: Although she started working in a factory at 13? GEORGE: Thirteen. WENDY: [Unintelligible - 00:47:27] GEORGE: Had to be in Fitchburg, I don't know which factory. It was supposed to be 14, but she got in at 13. WENDY: She ever talked of those days? GEORGE: Not too much. The only thing she regretted was she had to leave school. She liked school, but… I don't know how many children were there, six or something like that in those days, and I guess times were tough. She was the last one they pulled out of school; she and her oldest sister did not go to school. From then on, my Aunt Toni who was next. She became a registered nurse and Ere, I think, went to business school; Doris didn't go to school beyond high school. Ellen got married, so she didn't go beyond high school; my Uncle became a dentist; and my other Uncle had a high position on industrial business down in Connecticut—he was a Holy Cross graduate. In fact, he and I graduated together… the same class. That was due to the war, yeah. WENDY: What year was that? GEORGE: '49. 1949. WENDY: [Unintelligible - 00:48:53] strongly about your education? GEORGE: I think she felt strongly because her home aren't going to school, my father not going to school. But those days, it was quite common. They didn't go to school. I still remember living on Longwood Avenue and boys becoming 16 or girls becoming 16, 23 that was beyond the school, get a job and they make $12 a week, something like that, if they went to work. WENDY: And you never felt that call to begin making money? GEORGE: No. Actually we were two boys. Most of the families had three, four, five kids, probably be a widow or a widower, you know. We lived well compared to a lot of them. So it never happened, you know. We had always had a small garden, we had chickens, we had some rabbits, and so it was always plenty of food; and my mother was an excellent person on canning. She could can almost anything. You'd talk about buying corn on the cob -- she didn't freeze it; she knew how to can it, corn on the cob. And it wouldn't be a lot of log. Remember that, Norma? She just had a lot of corn left over one time, hated to see it go to waste or fed to the chickens, so she just vacuum-packed it. That was good. She can do the same thing with -- I remember being in the service, I'd get a jar, and then it would be fried rabbit. Oh yeah, I like rabbit, I like rabbit. But she wouldn't waste anything, it was amazing. And she could sew, she make my trousers, shirts, and then my father bought her an ironing machine one time. I don't know if you remember those things, they used to call them a [mangle]. It's a circular item, and she had it, and my father bought an old electric sewing machine, and the man came to look at it and show how to run those sewing machine, they saw that and they [unintelligible - 00:51:23] "What can you do with that?" She says, "They can iron shirts," everything. I see her do something, so she'd get all this things and says, "I'll give you a job on Saturdays to demonstrate these ironing machines at Sears and Roebuck." So for a year or two, that's what she did. Every Saturday afternoon she'd go up there, take all our laundry, and iron it to people. She's a very clever woman, my mother. WENDY: So did she work while you were in school?24 GEORGE: When I came back from the service, she didn't work anymore in the factory, because now I had a sister and then a child after I came back, our second sister. We're two families; we got two younger sisters and my brother and I. I'm 20 years older than my younger sister, almost to the day. She's December what, Norma? Fifth? NORMA: December 2nd. GEORGE: Second, she's the 2nd and I'm 15th. 20 years difference. WENDY: Is she working prior to the… GEORGE: Yeah, she always worked in the factory. My mother always work. My mother couldn't sit still. She had to work all the time. My wife is like her; she can't sit down. WENDY: I'm always in awe of everything these people were able to get done, but they'd still work. It's amazing. GEORGE: She would can all of it. We had canned blueberries, canned raspberries, strawberries, all kinds of tomatoes, jelly. She used to make [unintelligible - 00:53:02] school when they used have what they used to call hospital days, and you would bring canned goods and things like that. And my mother gave me some apple jelly to bring, and the teacher looked at it and looked out to the window, it was clear as a bell. She went down and got another teacher, "Come over here, I wanna show you something." She's still [unintelligible - 00:53:22] she hold it and, "Look at that." WENDY: Without machine? GEORGE: Without machines. Norma could tell you stories about my mother. She knew my mother all her life, so… very clever. Her mother was an excellent cook, and mother was a real cook. WENDY: You wanna talk? You wanna say anything? NORMA: She looked tremendous, she knew everything and she could do anything. Anything you ask her do, she could do it. WENDY: How could she do all these work, working during the day? Was it weekends, or after…?25 GEORGE: When she came home at night. My father would start to prepare some of the things for her, you know, then he'd go to work and she'd come home and… and since he wasn't home, you know, he's at work and then were just two boys, so she'd get working on something, keep busy, and that was it. WENDY: So when you were [unintelligible - 00:54:17] passed away? GEORGE: No, my father died around, what, 86, Norma? NORMA: 80 when he died. GEORGE: He was 80 when he died. So, around 80, about 1984 when he died. Or no? NORMA: No, [unintelligible - 00:54:43]? WENDY: Okay. Maybe I just assumed, but you said there were two families. But I think what you said was you're… GEORGE: Oh, I'm different. WENDY: Okay. GEORGE: There was a girl who died in between, and she always wanted a daughter, so then they had the girl. Then they figured she's growing up alone, so they had a second one. WENDY: She wasn't busy enough? GEORGE: No, no, no. By the time the girls came, my brother and I were fairly grown up. I was 16, so I can help out with the little girl and keep her busy and things. And then when I went to service, my brother was old enough to help out. Like he'd deliver a lot of the stuff. He wasn't in school, so, you know, he was -- it's quite a thing. WENDY: So let's go back to the restaurant business. So after she became successful with these pizzas, can you fill in the blanks? They aren't, for example -- I get the impression that they had always thought they would open up a restaurant when these pizzas became popular.26 GEORGE: Yeah. My mother was really strong, and my father was conservative, you know. He had reached the point that DuPont were, you know, your job is secured for life now and do we really wanna get involved in this when they had two little children. And my mother kept insisting, so they get the building. We bought the land in the back there because my father want the [unintelligible - 00:56:28] to go to work. Those were on empty lots that DuPont owned then. The DuPont was selling all the lots they had, and the buildings. Because in the old days, the factory used to buy up a lot of land and houses, and then the people would then rent them from them. Well after the war—just prior to the war, rather—they started to sell some of the stuff up during the Depression. And there was this one lot sitting there which was directly in back of ours, so my father was able to buy it for a very ridiculously low price in those days, and just cut a hole in our fence and we had an entry to the Lancaster Street. And we put a little garden there, and… since the lot was there and the expense of buying land was no longer a problem, we'd put the building up. And as I say, it was not a huge building. I got a picture of this some place, the original building. So they started, and the business was so successful. It was so successful I think within six months they had to add to the back part of it for kitchen expansion. And then a year or two later, they added to the dining room section; they doubled that up in size. Then later they put an entrance on the side to get down into the basement area. We were there 10 years, that's all. By that time, everybody is getting tired; 'cause in a family business, everybody's gotta work. WENDY: So when did she expand the menu? Was that immediately? GEORGE: Immediately. We had a full menu right away. She didn't do just the pizza. She wanted a restaurant. And so we had all the different 27 types of spaghettis and manicottis and all that stuff. It was an Italian restaurant. WENDY: So you said she really didn't cook ravioli or manicotti at home? GEORGE: No. WENDY: So she determined… GEORGE: But she was an excellent cook. A successful restaurant is one that -- where there is no waste. So if you make something and it's not going to sell, you get two choices: you've got to find a way to use it or throw it away. My mother was so clever. We used to have veal, for example, and there'll be little pieces left over when they churn the cutlets from the bone, just little pieces, and what are you gonna do with it? So it's still on the menu, veal casserole. [Unintelligible - 00:59:24] wine and [unintelligible - 00:59:25], and all of a sudden something that was waste is a big seller. In fact, if I were to go to one of the restaurants now, that's what I would have. WENDY: Historically, I hear of something. I hope that hasn't been happening a lot in time. It's just suddenly, but suddenly [unintelligible - 00:59:47]. Okay. Thank you. So were these all her recipes that she used? GEORGE: Yeah. WENDY: Was she the only cook? GEORGE: She was always the lead cook. She had help, but she still made the determinations of what would go in and what wouldn't. Norma would work with her, and if my mother wasn't there and then Norma would be the lead cook. But it's always family. WENDY: How many [unintelligible - 01:00:21] was it open? GEORGE: Six. We had long hours in those days, not like today where the restaurant opens for six, eight hours. Those days it opened at 12 noon, it closed at 12 midnight. 28 WENDY: Incredible. [Unintelligible - 01:00:39] dad worked at the restaurant? GEORGE: My father would work there during the day, and then he would go to work at 4 o'clock at DuPont, then he gave that up once he got the -- after he got his 25-year pin, he left and stayed just at the restaurant. WENDY: And you said you and your brother also worked there? GEORGE: Yeah, we worked there. My brother was a good cook too. He's the one that can do many things. He takes after my mother on that respect. He can cook and he can do electrical work and do tile work. You name it, he can do it. WENDY: And what is his name? GEORGE: Attilo. WENDY: Attilo. Is he called [unintelligible - 01:01:28] GEORGE: Oh, Tony. WENDY: So can you tell us a little bit about what it was like working in a restaurant? NORMA: It was hectic. I have a little girl with me and she used to stay with me while I waitressed and worked in the kitchen. [Unintelligible - 01:01:43] my daughter, and then when the [unintelligible - 01:01:45] stay with me too and he'd hold on behind me while I was waitressing… with his finger, he used to -- he know how to play [unintelligible - 01:01:54] jukebox. He'd know every song that was there. And he used to dance, and army people used to come in and just watch him. And we really wanted him to be something, but [unintelligible - 01:02:08]. GEORGE: Wow. I didn't want… NORMA: He was good. He's staying and he danced, and he was about three or four years old when he was doing this. GEORGE: Younger than that when he started.29 NORMA: When he started. But somebody signed him somewhere, but I'm not [unintelligible - 01:02:23]. No? GEORGE: No. NORMA: No, he stopped her after that. And he was [unintelligible - 01:02:29]. Soldiers used to come just to see him. GEORGE: Yeah, with them [unintelligible - 01:02:35] big in those days and they -- we had a lot of army trade, and they'd come up and they look to him and give him a quarter, so he'd play five songs and … NORMA: And he knew every song there was, too. WENDY: So how did he learn to sing? [Unintelligible - 01:02:52] GEORGE: Just listening. We'd have a stack of records like that, 'cause we had a jukebox, people would come around and they changed them, and they'd give him a bunch of them, you know. And he'd pick one up and he was four years old and maybe at best pick the record up and say, "What's this one, Georgie?" "It's a concerto." WENDY: Wow. GEORGE: [Unintelligible - 01:03:20] concerto. He couldn't read. It was scary. That's why he could do it though, unbelievable. WENDY: Do you think your mother enjoyed the restaurant? GEORGE: Oh, she loved it. She loved it. She didn't wanna get out of it; but everybody was tired, everybody was tired. We reached a point that you don't wanna do it anymore, so we got out. But then they went back in again, and… WENDY: What year do you think that was? GEORGE: I think it was 1958, about 1958 they got out. Then by '62, something like that, they went back in again. When they get through, they went cross country with my two sisters. I think they went for about six weeks; they made this trip down to Mexico all around the United States and back to Leominster. And again, went back to Italy, you know. They wanna see America first. He liked the United States. He was always… he'd be what you call a 30 patriot. He was in the National Guard; he always loved to talk about his being in the National Guard, you know. He loved the United States. He went back when his sisters became ill, and after that he made several trips to Italy. WENDY: 1958, and they were back into it by '62? GEORGE: '62 or '63, they went back in. WENDY: So what happened? They got some left and… GEORGE: And my mother was ready to again. But they didn't stay that many years after that because [unintelligible - 01:05:10] going to sixties now. And my brother and I were not really that interested in doing it. In fact, I'd worked Friday night and he'd work Saturday night. And all I did was… I was the maître d', so I wasn't doing much of anything. But she wanted us there, my brother and I, and he was on Saturday and I was Friday nights. WENDY: Did you work there too? ANNA: I only worked there about a year and a half. WENDY: With the Il Camino? GEORGE: Yeah. WENDY: Can you tell me about the history of it? For example, did she purchase the restaurant from someone else? GEORGE: No. She wanted to go back in business, and so she had my brother start looking for land; and that's pretty much what he does, a lot of titles—he's a title man. And he found this piece of land that was just sitting there and was surrounded by, I think, the land owned by [Blocks] Incorporated, but there was one watch just sitting there. And so they bought it, and they started off with the original building. And this restaurant was not quite like the Lazy A; it was more of an -- I won't say it's upscale, but it was basically a restaurant, not a pizza combination. Times have changed and the pizza was no longer the big thing for a restaurant, we thought, and so they built this restaurant with the idea of [unintelligible -31 01:06:48]. And it took off right away. In fact, it's about so fast that they had to add a little room in front. They had to -- was it two rooms, Norma? NORMA: Two. GEORGE: Yeah, put two rooms in the front. One was a lounge and the other one was another restaurant, dining area. And then they added in the back so the place, just kept growing; but as I say, as a full restaurant, delay gets even more intense than a… I was not going stay that much more, and my brother as I say, was -- his practice was starting to pick up, so. And the girls were too young. Well, Jeannie was in college and Margaret was at the restaurant, but she had got married, so. WENDY: Mother is still doing most of the cooking at the time? GEORGE: All 'til the last day, 'til the last day. She loved it. Her mother was the same way. When they had their restaurant, I think they were happiest when they were in the kitchens. Wouldn't you say, Norma? NORMA: Oh, yeah. She loved to cook. [Unintelligible - 01:07:59] and my mother did all the cooking. WENDY: That's a good trainer. Was there a push for education for your sisters? GEORGE: Yes. Margaret went to Rivier for one semester. She did not like college, and she came back and went to work with my mother; and she married and had three children. She's a widow now. And my sister Jeanie went to -- up in -- what is it? NORMA: Merrimack. GEORGE: Merrimack, Merrimack College. And she [unintelligible - 01:08:39] she has a good job. She's been there for many, many years. In fact, starting next year she can even retire. When you're 55, you can do that nowadays. And she's the boss; she has no children. But she takes after us, and that she's a reader too. She 32 loves to read, read, read, read. In fact, she just came back from China with my sister Margaret. They both went and Margaret said -- Norma asked her, she's too much talking, so the first two days, she didn't said anything, she just read. [Laughter] WENDY: [Laughter] So tell us a little bit about your schooling. I know you're a graduate of Holy Cross? GEORGE: Yeah. WENDY: Prior to that? GEORGE: I went to Leominster High School and graduated in '44. I started college in July because it was wartime, and I figured I could get some time in before I went to the service. It would also guarantee me a place when I came back. So I finished my freshman year in February of '45, and I was in the army in March of '45. I came back and went back to school, and I've taken some extra courses, somewhere by accident, and so I found out if I went to summer school I wouldn't have to do my second semester junior year, and I graduated in '49 instead of '50. Then I went to [unintelligible - 01:10:24] and I stayed up there for a few months teaching elementary school, but I didn't like it. And so I came back to Leominster in 1952; I was in the Leominster school system. I became a principal of junior high school. I was the first Italian secondary principal. Christine McDowell was the first elementary one; her name was [unintelligible - 01:10:52]. She was the first, I believe, elementary school principal of Italian descent. WENDY: But you were the first secondary? GEORGE: Yeah, and I became the high school principal, and I was the first one there full-time. Dr. [Anthony] did it temporarily while they found a principal. And then I succeeded the man that they had found, [unintelligible - 01:11:20] two and a half came in. And he was not the first curriculum coordinator of Italian decent, Robert 33 Duppal would come to Leominster and worked for a couple of years, but Robert Anthony, Dr. Anthony, he became the first assistant superintendent of curriculum. He was a native son also. And Dr. Amadeo became the first Italian superintendent in Leominster. But after I became junior high school principal, a whole wave of Italian descent children of Leominster became elementary school principals. Salvatalis and Negliosis and Sardeli, Bacani, they all came in after. And then Chino Salvatori became a junior high school principal. There was a whole wave of us, but that's the way of America anyway. If you've studied history, whatever wave comes, through they take those jobs and their children will want different types of jobs. Just like the old story of the Irish cop, they had their wave and they moved on, their children did not become policemen, they took better jobs. And same thing with the Italians, they moved up, [unintelligible - 01:02:46] loaded with doctors and lawyers and everything now are of Italian descent. WENDY: Did you ever considered going anywhere else to teach? GEORGE: I had taught as I say in [unintelligible - 01:12:58] for a short time, but I didn't like elementary. So I came back to Leominster and waited for a slot opened. And as I say, did that until 1988, and when I was 62 and I retired. But I went down at St. Andrews, and I did the five-year short-term—it was supposed to be shot-term, but it was five years before I left as elementary school principal down there. So I taught everything from pre-K to high school. WENDY: And how did you meet Norma? GEORGE: I've known Norma all my life. NORMA: His father and my father lived in a duplex house in Italy. And my mother and his father used to go to school, elementary school in Italy with each other, and we were friends… GEORGE: Yeah. I've known her from day one.34 WENDY: Wow. Did anyone suggest that you get married? NORMA: No. WENDY: No. NORMA: I asked him to go to my high school prom, but he had to go into service so that was the end of that. But while he was in the service he used to write to me, and when he got home, started going together, and that was it. GEORGE: Fifty-three years later. WENDY: Fifty-three [unintelligible - 01:14:20] and 54 in February? GEORGE: Yeah, it'll be 54 years in February. WENDY: I have a friend who's talking to her the other day, and she said that a lot of marriage nowadays is anything over seven years. GEORGE: My daughter was 25 last week. Twenty-five years of marriage. WENDY: So the parents feel when you came to Leominster to teach? GEORGE: Oh, they were happy 'cause I was gonna stay. Nobody wants their children to move, you know that. So they're happy that I got a job in Leominster. WENDY: But it wasn't just a job. You became a teacher. GEORGE: But I never left the community, [laughter] actually. I mean, when I went to Holy Cross, I was a base student. I didn't live there. And they always knew I was gonna be a teacher 'cause I always said I was gonna be a teacher. That was always… I'd made up my mind. By the time I'm in seventh grade, I knew I want to be a schoolteacher, so that was it. So there was no big surprise, and they accepted it. I don't know if they wanted me to be a lawyer or something else. My brother became a lawyer but I didn't, I just wanted to be a schoolteacher. I was happy. I used to be a very happy schoolteacher. WENDY: What made you become a… GEORGE: Combination of things. Like my wife said, "Before you take the job, are you sure you wanna be one? Don't do it for the money." 35 And I said, "No, I won't do it for the money." But the money was good compared to teaching, and it was a new challenge. But if I didn't become a principal, I'd have been happy anyway. Like my wife said, I always used to sing going to school in the morning, so I was happy. I had a happy life. I was also the audio-visual director, so I had a couple periods off every day to do that. So it was a combination that you didn't get bored, you know, you taught your classes and then you went into these audio-visual materials. And I always kept busy and never had any big problems with children, so that's fine. In fact, I still run into students who remember our days in class and the punishments, which are big jokes, you know, and it was fun. And even when I was looking for better jobs, I'd go to the school boards; some of them were my pupils, and they would joke with me what we used to do in class and all. I actually get people coming up—Norma can tell you that—they still come up and say, "Remember when…" NORMA: [Unintelligible - 01:17:23] write papers, that's what I always hear. WENDY: Write papers. What subject did you teach? GEORGE: I was a Social Studies teacher. I had taught a little bit of English in junior high when I was a long-term sub there, but basically a Social Studies teacher. I teach world history and geography and economics, current events, government, depending upon what they needed in that particular year. I always used to like to teach three subjects. I didn't like teaching one subject all day, so I teach three. And every year I get a new set of textbooks so I wouldn't bog down, repeating the same things all the time. This year I'd get a new history book and next year I'd get a new geography book, the next year I'd get a new economics book or government book. So it's always something different, and it was a lot of fun.36 WENDY: How did you see education change from the time that you were at Leominster High School? GEORGE: Well, of course, there's more technology involved now, but they haven't changed that much, you know. They're not as reluctant to speak as they were in the old days, but you can still control them, you can still -- they still can be reasonable. They have to know why more now than they did in the old days. For example, I would punish children as a principal, then I would say, "What did you do? Did you egg the teacher on?" And most of them would say, "Yeah." So, "Then what do you want me to do about it? [Unintelligible - 01:19:13] punishment coming?" But he said this, "Did you egg him on?" "Yeah, I did." "I'll speak to him, but I also have to punish you too because you egged him on." And he was, "Okay." That's that. They wanna be treated fairly. The old days, you know, they're the boss and we're not. But today, you let them know the ground rules and it works out pretty well. At least I think it that. I haven't taught for a few years now, but when I was at the end of my career, they would come in and see me and they'd sit and talk. And I always had a jar of candy, you know./AT/jf/rs/es

Part one of an interview with Settimio "Babe" Pellechia. Part of this interview has been redacted as per Mr. Pellechia's wishes. Topics include: Family history. How his parents came to the United States from Italy and settled in Leominster, MA. His father's work at the Leominster Button Company and then as an ash collector. Babe's memories of growing up in Leominster during the Depression. His father's construction work. The work his siblings did. What it was like for Babe working with his father on construction jobs. How his brothers turned the construction business into a concrete block manufacturing business. The different businesses Babe started and worked in. What the Lincoln Terrace neighborhood was like when Babe was growing up. His mother mainly spoke Italian and knew very little English. Speaking Italian in the home. What his mother was like. The types of food his mother would prepare. Babe's work in the motel business. What life was like when Babe was running an ice cream shop and a motel. His children's education. ; 1 BABE: And [DeMazzio]… [Icelano], and then after would actually be Joseph… Enrico. LINDA: Enrico? BABE: Enrico. LINDA: Enrico. BABE: Uh oh, we got caught. Enrico, and then myself, and then Olga. LINDA: Hi, I'm Linda. SPEAKER 3: Hi nice to meet you. BABE: Now there wasn't -- of course Dave passed four years ago. There was another DeMazzio [unintelligible - 00:00:53] Icelano. LINDA: Oh, there were two others that died? BABE: Well, they died at the age of three and one in the same weekend. LINDA: Okay. BABE: Before the others. That's why they renamed the others. LINDA: They renamed -- so. I'll put that in here there were two others. You want that in there? There was another one DeMazzio that died and they named it the next one DeMazzio. And Icelano was one that died, and they named the next one Icelano. SPEAKER 3: I would like that in there. LINDA: Okay. SPEAKER 3: [Unintelligible - 00:01:21] you should have hired her. LINDA: How are you, Tina? TINA: Oh good. I'm… LINDA: Now, your marriage. BABE: Now, there's a bad part. You had to spoil it. October 5, 1945. I'm sorry, October 6, 1945. LINDA: Uh-oh. SPEAKER 3: I was just waiting. I didn't want to say anything. LINDA: October 6, 1945 and you married Augustina, what? SPEAKER 3: Traini. BABE: T-R-A-I-N-I. 2 LINDA: Augustina Traini. BABE: This comes out of that because [unintelligible - 00:02:01] that's part of the book [unintelligible - 00:02:05]. SPEAKER 3: Babe, you're going to have to do this because -- I'm sorry, I have a class. I'm teaching down the college, so… BABE: What was that last one? LINDA: Your children, the names of your children. BABE: Okay, Linda… LINDA: Another Linda. BABE: And Barry David. LINDA: And Barry David. Residential history. Now, you lived on Grove Avenue. BABE: The different places we lived? Well, we started in Lincoln Terrace where I was born, and Miller Street, [Union] Street. After Union Street we went to Sterling, Westminster, to Grove Avenue, and then over here. LINDA: Norfolk, okay. BABE: I missed one, Litchfield Street. LINDA: Where was that at? BABE: That would before Union. LINDA: Litchfield? BABE: Litchfield. Is it recording now? LINDA: Yes. BABE: Then I can't joke as I go on. LINDA: Oh, you can joke. I just wanted to make sure that… BABE: Had I graduated it would've been the class of '40. LINDA: Okay. Work history. What did you do? Your father? BABE: What did I do? I started with contracting with my father. My father was a contractor, so I fit in that very good. And then I was self-employed in the following businesses: Babe's Ice Cream, Dennison Motel, West [unintelligible - 00:04:06] Motel, and Babe's Miniature Golf, subdivision of the real estate [unintelligible - 00:04:07] houses. LINDA: Subdivision of real estate? For housing? 3 BABE: Mm-hmm. That's all I did. LINDA: What about Blocks? BABE: Yes, true. That was another corporation. These were all my own. Blocks was a corporate… LINDA: That was with your father? SPEAKER 3: At least she remembered. LINDA: Contracting with father, Blocks -- was that the name of it? BABE: Well, Blocks was the name of the four brothers. SPEAKER 3: It's a great thing you guys are doing, you know. I'm so glad you got that older woman, that 100 year old lady, 106. Thank God you got her before she went. LINDA: We got a little bit. You didn't get to see her [unintelligible - 00:05:09]. SPEAKER 3: Not me. It was someone who was working before. BABE: To show that we're not always hiding. That first sheet down there, what's that say? SPEAKER 3: This one? BABE: Yeah. SPEAKER 3: The Joy of Growing Up Italian? BABE: No, no, the one above it. SPEAKER 3: American? BABE: No, what's the next one you have there? SPEAKER 3: This one, the Americans? BABE: Oh, that's what you had. [Unintelligible - 00:05:26] LINDA: Babe, my next question here is St. Anne the Church, and that's St. Anna. You always belonged to St. Anna Church? BABE: Off and on. LINDA: Off and on. SPEAKER 3: Yeah. BABE: And now it's off. SPEAKER 3: I'm just going to say bye. And I'll see you. LINDA: Good luck. Nice meeting you. [Unintelligible - 00:05:58] 4 BABE: It was a pleasure. SPEAKER 3: I got pineapples for my still life. LINDA: You're going to paint still life? SPEAKER 3: No, they're drawing. It's a drawing class that I'm taking [unintelligible - 00:06:05]. BABE: Before -- do you want to shut it for just a minute? SPEAKER 3: Not on there, so… LINDA: Thank you, Ann. I would have checked. Okay, we have to start again. I'm Linda Rosenblum with the Center for Italian Culture. It's Tuesday, October 30th at 1:20 p.m. We're with Babe Pellechia, and Rosa Farrell is with me, and we're at his home at 27 North Fourth Drive in Leominster. Hi, Babe. Thanks for letting us come and interview you. I thought that you could tell me a little bit about your parents first. Are they the ones that came to Leominster? BABE: Yes. My father came to Leominster in 1906, and… how far do you want me to expand on that? What he did? LINDA: Sure. Well, first of all, where did he immigrate from? BABE: From Rome. LINDA: Rome? Did he travel with your mother? BABE: No, she came in 1909. LINDA: Okay. Who did he travel with? BABE: He just came on his own, I believe, at that time or whatever, people were coming. He left from Roma and landed in New York then came to Leominster. LINDA: Do you know why he came to Leominster? BABE: You know, that's one of the questions we never asked him, and I'm still trying to find out why he came to Leominster. It must be because of friends; that's where most of them was. You know, there was quite a colony of the Santa Maria Del Combo, and that's from the section of Italy where they came from. So it could have been from other friends where he… 5 LINDA: What do you call that, Santa Maria? ROSA: Del Campo. Santa Maria Del Campo. BABE: It's an Italian organization. ROSA: The particular region in Italy. LINDA: So, close to Rome? BABE: It's south of Rome. It's actually -- El Vita, and [unintelligible - 00:08:00]… which is part of -- give me a minute. My notes over there, please, these little papers here. It's [unintelligible - 00:08:17] Costa Lata. C-O-S-T-A, L-A-T-A, I believe it is. And that's where most of them came from. LINDA: And I had just read in some of the papers over here that he studied industrial agriculture when he was in Rome? Did you know that? BABE: He was a farmer, whatever that may mean. You know, like I say, [unintelligible - 00:08:41]… authority, and that sometimes these things happen like a good friend of ours that was a garbage collector, and he did wonderful things. The city of New York gave him an award, and they said he is a sanitation engineer. And the guy got up and says I am a garbage collector. So I don't think he did much studying at that age because there was -- things were pretty rough there in Italy. LINDA: Did he ever tell you any stories of Italy? BABE: Oh yes. LINDA: Would you like to share some? BABE: Well, he would say the way they used to work and so forth, and their living conditions, which was pretty rough at that time. That was the reason why they came here. Of course, supposedly our roads were paved with gold, and that's out there. But he was always a very hard worker and always wanted to do more, learn more, do more, which he did do in his life. Like the first thing he did when he came in to Leominster was he headed down to Leominster Button Company, which is near, 305 Whitney Street, and they're called [unintelligible - 00:10:01] now. And he was a rubber of buttons and combs. They used ashes, and it's surprising that 6 they [unintelligible - 00:10:11] health in that year one of the filthiest jobs that -- the men worked, and this is outlined -- let's see, this is put out by the Board of Health of Massachusetts. LINDA: So he was called a rubber? BABE: Mm-hmm. LINDA: Did you remember him explaining what he did? BABE: Well, what it is, you take the buttons or the combs or whatever they're working on [unintelligible - 00:10:37] was turtle, made from turtle then [unintelligible - 00:10:39], and what the ashes and what the wheels going at the RPMs that it does go, and the water, that polishes up, really polish it. But of course if you got water and ashes and a wheel going you know what that does to the person, and that's what he did for a few years. Surprisingly though in 1914 he sold that fine ashes -- this was a business for him. LINDA: So he realized that there was a use for that ash. BABE: Mm-hmm, and they got him out of that filthy working conditions. LINDA: I'm wondering what does an ash dealer mean? What would he do with the ashes? BABE: You go around and pick up the ashes from people's home, 10 cents a barrel, bring them down and screen it through a screen that water won't go through, and that's what they used for rubbing. That's the compound that they used for rubbing these plastic -- not plastic but the horns or hooks or whatever they were doing. LINDA: Did he get that idea from someone else, to go and collect the ash? BABE: Well, he got the idea from being in business. He got some wagons to collect the ashes, which were -- and the rubber district was a good business at the time, and then he felt that he had that, why not screen the ashes and sell it to the industries, which he did. Another byproduct of that too that the -- when you screen the ashes you always get the coal that never burnt, and half of Lincoln Terrace was the Italian Colony. He used to go down and pick up the coal, and it kept a lot of people warm up there 7 at that time, so that they would go down -- it was on Middle Street where they did that. So [unintelligible - 00:12:33] he helped out a lot of people by letting them go and they go through these screenings and pick out all the little black diamond gold that heats the house, and that was it. LINDA: So this 75 Lincoln Terrace, was that where you lived, or … BABE: That's where I was born, and that's where we lived at the time. LINDA: So he actually -- I just want to make sure that we get this on tape, so sorry to keep asking you… BABE: That's all right. LINDA: It's an old art, and it's not easily explainable. So he would go around to people's homes, or… BABE: Yes. Because everybody burnt coal in those days. You'd call up and you'd go there and then take the barrels out where -- which as he said was very, very heavy, because you'd either have to go up the stairs if they didn't have an outside door or to the bulkhead or something like that, and he aggravated at some people to get more ashes in the barrel [unintelligible - 00:13:26]. And so that's more weight, and then you couldn't screen it. Other than that he had the horse and wagons, put them on, bring them down -- the screening plant was on Millet Street, which is just off of Lincoln Terrace, and there he would screen what he picked up from the people's homes and separate it and sell the extra fine screened ashes to industry. And he shipped it to a few places all over the United States at the time. LINDA: Where did he get the money to begin this type of a business? BABE: By what most foreigners other than Puerto Ricans, saved their money [unintelligible - 00:14:09] saved their money and do it that way. LINDA: So at this time was he married? BABE: Probably should strike that out. That isn't too nice to say, but it's already on tape. 8 LINDA: Well, it's going to be edited. BABE: Okay. LINDA: What did I ask -- was he married to your mother by this time? BABE: Oh yes, he married my mother in 19… I'll put my glasses on. It would help, wouldn't it? LINDA: Okay, but we can figure out the dates later. BABE: Hmm? LINDA: We can figure out the dates later. BABE: Okay. LINDA: So we'll figure it out. So can you tell me a little bit about growing up on Lincoln Terrace? BABE: It's a good thing that we didn't know better. We enjoyed ourselves. It was a happy life and so forth, but I just wonder what would happen today if children had to go through what we did. Our fun would be getting in a sandbank and digging holes and whatever we could find, cups and make objects out of it. We'd play baseball. Whoever had the baseball and the bat would be the one that would pick the teams and when we'd play and how we'd play. And it was -- on today's standard it was really very, very rough living at the time. We had no entertainment to speak of. We hardly go to movies only it was only a nickel to go to the Gem Theater; we didn't get there too often. And the main highlight, or one of them, was at Christmastime at the -- one thing my father would do, he did everything for Christmas. You know, for food and things like that. And one of the big games as I remember would be getting the table like this and putting sawdust on it, and he'd hide coins in the sawdust, and you each had a shape to pick out a shape where you'd want hoping to get more coins than your brothers and sisters and so forth. So that was one of the fun things that we did. 9 But myself as I grew up I always had a tendency to follow him and get involved with his work. By that time [unintelligible - 00:16:36] he was in the contracting. He was more doing contracting at that time, became a contractor. So I always followed him around on jobs and things like that. So I learned more. I think even for myself I think I grew up real fast as far as a youngster. LINDA: Is that partly because you were the seventh son? BABE: No, because that's what I wanted to do. LINDA: Explain to me though what your name means again. BABE: Settmio is seven in Italian, and that's what it means. It's just that the Sette is seven, and that's where the name comes from. LINDA: So I forgot now. You're the seventh son or seventh child? BABE: Seventh son in rotation. LINDA: And how many sisters? BABE: Out of eleven. There was three girls in the family. LINDA: So by the time you came around your family already had six boys? BABE: Yes. I was the seventh and the last boy in the family. LINDA: So how were your brothers' lives different than yours? Were they harder? Were they… BABE: Oh yes. Well, my oldest brother was quite active in the business and so forth. He did all that. But then my next brother was a -- he worked very, very hard, and entertainment was out as far as that got. No vacations and things like that. It was strictly, as I remember it, when -- don't forget I'm entering about the time, well, 8 years old and that was the beginning of the Great Depression. I remember that quite well. The families were living on $12 a week, quite a few of them, which is what the welfare would give you. LINDA: So during the Depression your father was working? BABE: Whenever [unintelligible - 00:18:44] work. Yeah, he was doing contracting, whatever work he could get. On one job he was a supervisor for doing some work at city hall, and this is choosy but you have to do it 10 by the WPA program at the time. And to do a [unintelligible - 00:19:02] for city hall you did it at the time but they send them 30 men. You know, other people that were on the WPA, and they were on top of one another so my father had to let them be -- he had them closing doors, open doors and sweeping, everything but working because they were all in one another's way. But he was a supervisor at that time. But he did work like that there and then we plowed snow in the wintertime—there was income from plowing the snow, keeping the truck busy. Then he did odd jobs as they came up, but nothing -- it was a tough time. To backtrack, my father was very, very successful up until 1929. He owned 33 houses, and one by one he lost them all because people didn't have money to pay the rent and the banks wanted their money and they would just keep taking the house. You know, the foreclosing, keep doing that. LINDA: So he owned 33 homes and he lost every single one? BABE: All but the one we were living in. LINDA: Oh. BABE: Yeah. LINDA: How did he afford to buy 33 houses? BABE: Because he got to be a good-sized contractor. Like he built – he had the contract for all the concrete work in the Leominster post office, which was quite a job in those days. In 1926 he built the Main Street garage down on -- he did the fence around St. [Lido's] cemetery, which is quite a sizeable job, and he built numerous homes. In those days the first homes he built, regular homes like on Lincoln Terrace, there's probably eight homes up there that he built and was sold for the big sum of $2,800. LINDA: Wow. BABE: That's what they were at that time. In fact, numerous times, her dad would work for my father on his trade. You know, blocks and bricks, plastering 11 so that he and [unintelligible - 00:21:22], whenever they had a job that required brickwork and plaster and so forth, they were the first two that he called to do the work. So you see we would all get things first class with first-class people. But he couldn't -- the Depression was too much for everybody at that time, not only him. LINDA: Before we go on, let's back up a little bit. He came to this country, he started -- he used ash to rub buttons et cetera, then he opened his own business selling ash. BABE: He started that, yeah. LINDA: Right. So what kind of time frame are we talking about? BABE: I beg your pardon? LINDA: What's the time frame that we're talking about? BABE: [Unintelligible - 00:22:05] LINDA: Where was it, 1914? BABE: Yeah. LINDA: So he was selling ash in 1914, and then he went into the construction business? BABE: I can give you year by year. Let me show you. See, this is the -- you know, all the concrete work on this job there's his -- do you see that there on the box [unintelligible - 00:22:27] and Company? LINDA: Mm-hmm. Oh that's interesting. That's in '29, so this was a bad time. BABE: No, that was the good time; the beginning of the bad started right after that. So that the -- well, he worked the button shop, at Leominster Button… then he -- let's see as we go along here. Okay, now in 1913 he put a grocery store in the house. LINDA: He put a grocery store in your house? BABE: Well, [unintelligible - 00:23:14] to sell groceries, yeah. LINDA: So at 75 Lincoln Terrace? BABE: Yeah, that's still 75 Lincoln Terrace. And then of course he got both here the ashes and the grocery that he did. LINDA: So who's running the grocery store? 12 BABE: My mother. LINDA: Oh, was it your mother? BABE: Yeah. It's just on Lincoln Terrace a small street though, there wasn't -- no store, like you think of stores today. And it keeps on changing. Now right now, then in 1916, he added trucking to that too. LINDA: Trucking? So that's when he's an ash dealer though? BABE: No, he started with regular trucking after that. Sand and gravel and so forth at that time. LINDA: So again, he'd buy the sand and gravel, and then… BABE: No, we had our own pit. LINDA: You had your own pit? BABE: Yeah. He owned the land down on Miller Street, which was back in there. LINDA: So at least we understand the chronological. BABE: Hmm? LINDA: At least we understand it a little bit more, I think. I was going from the ash business right to building. BABE: [Unintelligible - 00:24:43]. LINDA: That makes more sense. We get into trucking, gravel and sand, and then construction. And he would build these buildings himself? BABE: He did all kinds of construction work. He even built the 38 -- he had the contract for the bridge on [unintelligible - 00:25:05] Street in Pittsburgh, which was Route 2A at the time. ROSA: He put the sand and the gravel and the ashes. Didn't he make his own blocks, make blocks for construction? BABE: Started making blocks around 1920. That was part of the… LINDA: So he would use the materials that he was gathering or buying and selling? So who would he sell the blocks to? Or would he use the blocks for his own building? BABE: He would use the blocks or sell them to whoever needed them. LINDA: And how would he make the blocks? 13 BABE: From our own pit, with the sand and gravel we had there on North Smith. He would make the blocks at that time. LINDA: Was it a mold, or did people do them… BABE: It's a machine, the machine that the mold would take care of it. LINDA: What was the name of the construction company? BABE: Pellechia and Company. LINDA: Pellechia? Did they have many people working? BABE: At some times he had quite a few people. LINDA: You don't have to worry so much about those dates, because I can look through that after. I'm just trying to understand how someone comes here from nothing and owns 33 homes. BABE: It was 1925. LINDA: Sand and gravel, ashes and store. So he goes from his buggy to his truck. Now, who's Charles? BABE: That's my oldest brother. LINDA: Your oldest brother. Okay, so your brothers went into business with him? BABE: Yep. LINDA: All six of them? BABE: We all worked for him. We all worked for him. We built a lot of gas stations, too. We had quite a team. Because amongst the team there was my father, who strictly did supervisory work, figured the job and things like that. And then we had Charlie, who was [unintelligible - 00:27:09] equipment as well as piping and so forth; Red was a great laborer; Rico was a carpenter first class; I was a mason, but what I picked -- I went to trade school to be a mason, you know. So when we would get on a job we were pretty much able to do quite a bit of it ourselves. LINDA: Now, who's Red and Rico? Are those brothers? Red and Rico? BABE: Brothers. LINDA: So those are nicknames? BABE: Mm-hmm. LINDA: For who? 14 BABE: Well, DeMazzio and Enrico. LINDA: And where did you get your nickname? BABE: Babe? After 11 kids it's time to call somebody Babe. No, my sister Lena gave it to me as she said when I was a baby at that time. LINDA: So how did your brother Red learn how to build pipe for -- what did you say that he did? BABE: When you run a gas station there's a lot of pipings involved. You know, water and gasoline and so forth. That was how he -- my brother Red was a hard worker and the one that never asked for too much and always -- education-wise Red was very, very limited. In fact, one of the side stories on that is he couldn't learn his general orders in the Army, and as a result of it, on his record, they said he would never be anything other than a private, and he couldn't get any Class A pass. So they went overseas, and he had two companies that he was in that were completely all injured or so forth, and he became the top sergeant of the whole group. So he knew what to do when it was important. He had the smarts for that, but as far as the learning he just didn't have the ability to learn. LINDA: So, how did you all learn and know -- was it, were you apprenticed? Did you have any kind of… BABE: No, no you just learned from one another. That's how [unintelligible - 00:29:19] families just keep going, and it was just, you know, you started off -- and our father knew what was what and we picked it up real fast and just kept going on it. LINDA: Can you tell me or share with me an early experience of working with your father? BABE: Well, I just started, just jumped and started doing it. In fact, I was 15 years old and I built the gas station on the corner of Walnut and Main Street in Leominster. I was supervisor and so forth because they had other jobs, but it all came natural. I just enjoyed it and I just did it. In fact, 15 when I was with the trade school, at the end of the school year I was in the brick mason department, and the instructor told me, "Don't come back; you're wasting your time." LINDA: Wow. And is that why you didn't go back? BABE: Well, I had to go to work. LINDA: Well, bring me back though to a day when you're working with your father. What was it like? Did you all kind of disperse and go to different jobs? BABE: Go to different jobs. He never drove, so one of us had to drive him. One thing about him he was very honest, and he was very thorough. In fact whether we were doing a job contractor or day work he would even tell us, you do the same thing whether it's day work or contract, even if you lose money. So you know, with a bringing up like that, you can't go wrong. So of course when I was very young and we were doing a lawn on Berne Avenue, and we had the big roll that you use to roll with, and I was very young and the roll was banking, and I'll never forget I came close to the bank and I couldn't hold the roll, and it went down and right through a flower garden. That was one of the unpleasant days. [Unintelligible - 00:31:33] let me know that I did wrong. He never hit us or anything like that. But I was worried for a while on that score. But then I'd go figure jobs and then he'd take me with him, because I'm the one that probably liked it the most and did it the most. That was good days. I enjoyed it. I never resented -- I think he taught us an awful lot, so we couldn't lose with that combination. And with a mother that would watch us like we're all just a baby -- whether you're six years old or 40 years old, she wouldn't go to sleep until you were in the house. It was good times under the conditions. As I said though, we didn't know better. If I did that like -- I know that many a times on the job when things 16 were that the -- come time to eat and all we had the money for was probably a cheese sandwich or something like, that you know, just limited, which is -- my son now later on was putting in overhead doors, he had a business he did that, and he was developing by the South Shore there and he came home and he said, "Dad, you know I forgot my money today," he says, "I didn't eat." "What do you mean you didn't have no money at all?" He said "Well, I only had a dollar." I said, "You know, you still could have had a cheese sandwich." He said, "Dad, those days are gone." So that's the difference. LINDA: So, when you'd go with your father to figure jobs you said, did someone call him? Not call him probably, but contact him to build something? BABE: Yeah, people would call from his advertisement. He did advertise, and they'd call him too. You know, a lot of people wanted bids; you have to bid it. So I'd go with him a lot of times and do the bidding and help him do the bidding and so forth. As I grew older. LINDA: So would he write a contract out and then have a company sign it, or…? BABE: Most of the time you just did it with the individual, it was all by -- in those days everything was with a good shake hand, which they meant. Very rarely was there a contract drawn up. Unless it was a big job, and then they'd have that. LINDA: And who was his competitor? BABE: A lot of competitors. There was a lot of competitors. Must have been -- Leominster probably had about 15 to 20 contractors at the time when it got to contracting. LINDA: Were there any other Italians? BABE: Oh yeah. There was probably half a dozen or so I think Italians. LINDA: Did your father apprentice anyone? Did anyone begin working with him and then venture out on their own? BABE: Well, we wouldn't call it apprentice. They just did that, which is the American way to do things. You never met anybody better than 17 themselves, so that -- yeah, we had somebody. I mean, that never bothered him. LINDA: How long did your father do this kind of work? BABE: Until he retired at about age -- he stopped working I think at about age 60. LINDA: And did the company survive? Did the sons take it over? BABE: Well, what happened, we kept the thing going quite a while. Even by that time, the brothers, we went into the manufacturing of concrete blocks on a real production method. We used to manufacture quite a few a day, and that became our sole business then. LINDA: So tell me about that then. BABE: Well, we came back from the Army, and with the -- three of us were veterans, and we got a loan from the government on the G.I. Bill, and we bought this production machinery and put up a whole plant and went into manufacturing of concrete blocks all type on full production. We used to make at that time about 4,000 blocks a day and get out -- plus the building supplies that went with it. And my father first saw [unintelligible - 00:36:15] he gave us the land and he also would watch the building of it when we did that. That was in 1945. In 1946 we started selling the blocks from our new plant. LINDA: And what was the name of the company? BABE: Blocks Incorporated. LINDA: Blocks Incorporated. And you and your three brothers started… BABE: And myself yeah. [Unintelligible - 00:36:42] Well, there were three veterans, but then one wasn't there. One didn't go into the Army and he was part of the corporation. LINDA: So four brothers plus yourself? BABE: No, four brothers. LINDA: Oh, four brothers. Three [unintelligible - 00:36:55]. So you would make these blocks and then sell them to… BABE: To whoever wanted to buy them. LINDA: Do you have advertisement for that company too? 18 BABE: Yeah. LINDA: Good. And how long did you do this? BABE: We did it up until 1979. LINDA: Oh, so what happened to the business? BABE: Well, at the age of all of us at that time it was time to liquidate it, and we did. We just sold off the -- we had an auction for the equipment, we sold the real estate, and by that time we were all -- other than myself all my brothers were ready to retire. Well, one other brother, the one next older to me, he had passed away. So it was just the two oldest brothers, and it was too much at that time to run the business of that, because we built another plant after that. The original plant was at -- our second plant we were doing 8,000 a day, so -- but it's, it was competitive, and getting out to sell them and everything else, it was quite a job. So I decided -- well, what happened was actually while I was out doing all my things at the time, I left. I was still part owner, but I left to do my motels and everything else with it, and they did get in trouble financially. And I went in and helped them straighten it out again, and when we straightened it out. That's when I told them we're selling the business, and so that's what we did. So we sold it in good graces [unintelligible - 00:38:47]. LINDA: So did any of your sons -- well, you have one son, but you must have some nephews. They didn't want to take over the business? BABE: We tried and it didn't work out. My son actually went to college and so forth, so he didn't fit into that. Then my -- there weren't too many boys in the family [unintelligible - 00:39:12], and Red had two boys, and one didn't want nothing to do with it all, and the other tried and he didn't like it. So it really was limited as to who could run it after that. LINDA: Now, did you sell the blocks locally or out of state, too? BABE: Well, out of state, New Hampshire, we sell New Hampshire. And we made a special block that we did one delivery in New York City with a special block, but we also had -- my brother had invented a new face for the blocks, and the -- it was a glazed block, and we did manufacture them, 19 and there are three school in Leominster have them. The Army has it in Leominster, and we sold a school in Gill, Mass. and [unintelligible - 00:40:07] and in Worcester, so that we did do quite well with that glazed block, which did very, very good. But like I say, age probably got that business why we finally sold it. LINDA: So the blocks though were they pretty standard size? BABE: They were all standard. LINDA: And then it only changed when your brother invented the glaze? BABE: Well, they were a standard block; it was just something added to it. LINDA: Added. Did he patent that invention? BABE: We worked on patenting it, but surprisingly when you patent something, there's always something close to it. In other words they did a whole lot of research on it and we didn't think it was patentable at the end, because the concrete goes way back year and years and years, and there's always somebody that did something close to it that you -- it just wasn't patentable. LINDA: So how did he develop the glaze? Do you know? BABE: Just working at it. In other words he just -- that was Joe, and Joe was the one in the family that was probably ahead on thinking of doing things and so forth. He was the one that always experimented, in other words, come up with ideas of doing special things. LINDA: So during the time as you're part owner of this company, you did other things. Can you explain? BABE: Did he do other things? LINDA: Yes. BABE: Yes, I did all those things that you wrote down in the book there. There were a few of them. LINDA: Yeah, I know. But could you explain some of them? BABE: Okay. What do you want me to start off? Which one, the first one, the ice cream place? 20 LINDA: Is that the first one that you started? BABE: Maybe I had a little of father in me that you do different things, you know. I went to an auction, and they had an ice cream machine, a brand new one, at the auction for sale, and I bought it for $1,000. And before I left, the salesman that sold it from the Mills Company came there and he found out that I bought it, and he offered me $1,500 for it. The minute he said that I immediately said if this thing is worth $1,500 to the salesman, I'm going to see what this machine will do. And I built an ice cream place around it. That was the beginning of Babe's Ice Cream at the time. LINDA: And where was that located? BABE: On Route 12. LINDA: Route 12. BABE: [Unintelligible - 00:42:44] started that, which is very interesting. We were going to open up on July 4th, and this was in 1950. On July 2nd it was one of those hot, miserable days, miserable, real miserable, [unintelligible - 00:42:56]. And this busload pulls in. There was 38 people on the bus, and one came out. They were monks from Rhode Island of the Vow of Silence, and one came in and he said could he please have 38 glasses of water. So my wife and I packed up 38 sandwiches, 38 ice creams, 38 cold drinks, and the bus leaves. And as the bus is going out of the circular driveway, there's a bus leaving, people just funneled in. And of course I knew most of them, and they said, "Babe, how can you be so lucky that you aren't even open and you get them by the busload?" not knowing what happened. And I said I hope I don't get too many busloads, I don't want to close before I get -- so that's how we started that there. But it growed real fast after that, just kept on growing and growing and growing. It meant nothing to sell a thousand ice cream cones on a Sunday afternoon. LINDA: So you knew nothing about ice cream? 21 BABE: I knew nothing about ice cream. I knew nothing about motels, and I built a motel and ran that. I bought another motel and ran that. But the -- I didn't know anything about subdivisions, but I did that. I think a lot of my father's in me. In other words, you just keep going. As long as you do what's right, work hard, you accomplish it. In other words I won't take no for an answer when it comes to trying to do business. Because I've had people, when I went into the [unintelligible - 00:44:41] and doing hardware, I didn't mention that one. When we were doing hardware, in other words it was on the wholesale level to sell to contractors. I did that, and that was very, very difficult because they felt that I should have went to school, you know, because you got to know what hardware's proper for certain jobs. You've got to know your fire codes and so forth. And a lot of people in the beginning wouldn't sell me. They said in other words we don't want to sell to you, you do things wrong and it could come back to us. So I made it clear to them if I got to go from here to California I'm going into the business and I'm going to buy the stuff. You're either going to sell it to me or somebody else is going to sell it to me. And what that did, I got them, built up that business, which was real good. So I just did it. I think maybe I was just blind. I just went into some of these things. We got kind of carried away. We're supposed to be talking on the Italian Colony, aren't we? ROSA: This is all part of that. LINDA: This is all part of it. But as far as getting the ice cream machine and maybe the motel, were you just in the right place at the right time? Just kind of… BABE: That's probably the story of my life, yeah. I think that -- I really believe the gift of the seventh son really played a part on me. Because everything always works out. 22 LINDA: So would you like to tell us a little more about Lincoln Terrace? You're the first person I've interviewed, I'm thinking, isn't it true that grew up on Lincoln Terrace? BABE: You read this book? LINDA: I've looked at it. I haven't finished it. BABE: You haven't finished it? LINDA: No. BABE: Our family's mentioned in that quite a few times. But first of all he just about hit it on the way it was, you know. It was close-knit, Lincoln Terrace, and it was different than what today is. If you did something wrong and somebody scolded you and you went back and told your parents that the neighbor or whoever it was did this to you, you would get a call down again from him. It isn't that knock at the door saying what -- like today, you got assault and battery like that. In other words, they all watched one another. It was really a family unit up there. So you couldn't do anything wrong, and if anybody came on the street that wasn't part of the street, everybody knew about it and they watched them. So it was quite a neighborhood, it really was. And like I say, we enjoyed the -- now, the early part of it is I can look the -- they all had gardens the way they all had pigs in the back of the house, and when the fall of the year come they would all slaughter and they'd all help one another. I got that on film by the way, 8 mm. LINDA: What, the slaughtering the pigs? BABE: Yeah. LINDA: Oh, that's interesting. Now, was there a smokehouse? BABE: No. They did things themselves. They take the hams and they make the prosciutto out of those. You know how they do that? LINDA: Nuh-uh. BABE: Actually, they take the hind of the pig, and they really salt it and pepper it, all that it will take, and then they put it in most cases in the cellar up 23 against some beam or another beam, and then with a hydraulic jack or whatever kind of a jack, they keep squeezing it until the ham starts this big until it [unintelligible - 00:48:37] that big, but the salt and the pepper is actually curing it out. You heard of that, did you? No? So they did that. They made the meat, they made the sausages. Very few people used to cook the blood. We never did that, but a few of them did and make the… use that. But the whole pork chops, the whole thing, they saved every bit of it. LINDA: Now, did most people have a pig? BABE: In Lincoln Terrace they did. LINDA: They did. BABE: Yep, in those days. LINDA: So they'd all get together on one day and … BABE: They always worked together. Helped one another do things. LINDA: Was that day called something in particular? BABE: No. LINDA: No. BABE: No, and then like the -- I got a large grapevine. See, the whole hill did [unintelligible - 00:49:37] grape used to make his own wine. Then they all had big gardens. And another thing the Italian women up on Lincoln Terrace, on tomato time they would actually make tomato paste. I don't know if you ever saw that. They would have all these boards of pine nice and clean, they spread all the tomato on it, and then put one of those nets on it that they used to cover babies in a carriage to keep the flies out and so forth. And just by working that they made their own tomato paste. And they'd do all different things like that, you know, which they don't do today. It's easier to go to the store today and buy it. 24 LINDA: So when they slaughtered the pig and they made the prosciutto and et cetera… BABE: [Unintelligible - 00:50:24]. LINDA: When they slaughtered the pig, how did they store the -- how did they store what they had made? BABE: Mostly in the cellar. The meats [unintelligible - 00:50:34] like they'd make the sausage and they'd hang them up to dry. They had them covered and they'd hang them up to dry, and they would dry until they dried out with the [unintelligible - 00:50:45] it was all ice boxes what they had then, you know. But they'd have a place in the cellar which was damp enough or so forth that would last -- none of it wasted; they certainly ate it all before anything got to be wasted. LINDA: Was there any trading between families? BABE: I wouldn't say so, no. They had it all. They would give it to somebody like that, but there wouldn't be any trading. If somebody needed something, they would give it to them. LINDA: For some reason I can't remember what you call this, but when you dig out, let's say, a little hill when you keep food in it, what is that called? BABE: They didn't do that. They had it all in the cellar. ROSA: They just used the cellar cold. They can't do it today -- you can't do it today with the heat in the houses, but in those days the cellars were damp and cold sausages could be strung up in the rafters. And prosciutto. They made their sausages with the tubing, I remember seeing them. LINDA: Was that a long process, making the sausage? BABE: Well you got a 300-pound pig; you got a little work to do. You've got quite a bit of meat there to… ROSA: They'd grind it … LINDA: Now, was that woman's work, men's work? BABE: Oh, they all worked. The women did the cooking. They did a lot of that there, and the women probably -- some of the women would put the 25 [rosin] in the hot water to clean the hair of the animals. Hot water and rosin [unintelligible - 00:52:29] take the hair all off. LINDA: Was the skin used for anything? BABE: Yeah, they cooked that up. ROSA: Salt pork. BABE: Yeah. LINDA: So that's really what salt pork is? BABE: There was no waste. Probably threw the hoof away, didn't use that. ROSA: The head. LINDA: Did they throw the head away, or did they use part of it? BABE: Some people ate the head. Yeah some did. We didn't. ROSA: The ears, too. BABE: They all had chickens. LINDA: [Unintelligible - 00:53:05] throw the head away! BABE: And they all had chickens. In fact, my mother had her own little hobby [unintelligible - 00:53:11] times she had chickens and the eggs, and you know, feed the family, and if there's any eggs over she would sell them to the neighbor. So she would do that. My mother never learned to speak English too well even though she did the answering for my father, but it was -- my father could interpret what she would say even though she was saying it wrong. Like there was a company called Bowen and Fuller in Leominster, and my father always said this to people that they called my mother and have your husband come, we've got some deliveries to make, and she asked what company they said Bowen and Fuller. She said "Damn Fool?" He said no, Bowen and Fuller. She asked two or three times and yes. So my father came home, and she said, "Damn Fool wants you to pick up." So he knew them when he went there. The guy says, [unintelligible - 00:54:09] your message and the guy says yes. But they did understand one another. Of course the guy knew that she wasn't doing it to insult him 26 or anything. She didn't know any different on that. But she never learned the -- very, very little English. My father, working with the French people, he learned to speak French, and he learned the English right away, and of course he had the Italian. LINDA: Well, what about you and your brothers and sisters? Did you speak Italian? BABE: We understood it and so forth. They can speak it, but very [unintelligible - 00:54:50], and I can understand quite a bit what happens. Incidentally the three oldest children went to a French school at that time, and they learned French also. LINDA: What school? St. Cecelia's? BABE: St. Cecelia's, yeah. They went three years and then the French people needed a school for themselves and they transferred to St. [unintelligible - 00:55:14] school. LINDA: Now, I heard some people tell me that they weren't allowed to speak Italian in their homes after they learned English at school. Was that true for your family? BABE: Nope. No, we always spoke it. But my wife now, when she came over -- she came from Italy, and I didn't -- and when she came home with the school -- she's not from here, she's from Pennsylvania. But she refused to learn English until the teachers got -- one friendly teacher, "But why don't you want to learn?" She says, "I won't be able to speak to my mother and father then." She thought she'd lose the English. And after that day she made all kinds of honors in school. So she -- but in our house, now, my children, two of them they didn't speak -- we never spoke in Italian, but -- so we [unintelligible - 00:56:12] secret family thing when you're in front of the children, we'd speak Italian, my wife and I, not to be heard, but that's all done now because my daughter went out and became a professor of Italian history, so that brought us out. We can't even… 27 LINDA: So was it important for your family, your father and mother, for their children to assimilate, to become more American? BABE: We never discussed that. I don't think that ever came a thing -- you do the best you can do. That was about the biggest teaching that my father ever gave. Do the best you can do, stay out of trouble. And the other thing he always was a stickler for was he said you always respect authority. He said if someone does something wrong you respect it, you do it when you come home, you tell me about it, and I will take care of it. Of course it was just [unintelligible - 00:57:06] he never did anything everything after it, but meanwhile he kept peace in the family. LINDA: So he didn't want you to confront an adult; he would. BABE: Nope, and you know, in most cases you don't win with authority. You listen to it, and that's it. LINDA: So tell me about your mother. What was she like? BABE: My mother was strictly a loving for her children. She'd do anything for us. To quote my wife, which we shouldn't put on tape… LINDA: You don't want to? BABE: No, I'll tell you what my wife says about my mother. If it's not on tape. LINDA: If it's not on tape, okay. BABE: One of the things that happened though before [unintelligible - 00:57:56] we got married, my wife would go with my sister shopping and so forth. And in our house everybody -- they're all married now, but everybody would end up at the kitchen table at nighttime after the day's work, and my mother would -- you know, there was just the two of them, my mother and father at home, but there was always two or three pounds of spaghetti made, and we'd all eat there and then go home and say we're not hungry. But there was this one day we're there and my wife and my sister went shopping. They were late when they came in, so my brother-in-law and I said so let's have some fun. So the minute they came in, I says "Tina, where have you been? You know I worked all hard all day. I come home 28 and I want to eat." And so she says, "Well, we shopped." And my mother spoke up, she says, "That's not right. You got to feed your husband when he comes…" Well, then my brother-in-law to my sister says the same thing, you know. And my mother spoke up, and maybe she had something important to do. Same conversation. So -– but she was [unintelligible - 00:59:07] she was sick for a while. She had lost one eye too, and so for a while she was a -- but she could find -- after that she could find things that we couldn't, with that one eye. We would lose something and she would find it, even a pin or something like that, but… LINDA: Did she come from -- she came from Italy but differently than your father? I mean … BABE: Three years later. 1909 she came. LINDA: Did she come directly to Leominster? BABE: Well, she landed in Boston. Now, how she got there from Italy I don't have any information on that. LINDA: Do you know how your parents met each other? BABE: Probably out in the farm someplace, I would guess, because that's all they did; they were farmers. Even the woman worked the farms out there and so forth. So, a lot of them out there worked in [unintelligible - 01:00:03] actually who worked for the people that owned the land. LINDA: Where? BABE: In Italy. LINDA: Oh, they knew each other in Italy? BABE: Oh yeah. LINDA: Oh. 29 BABE: When she came here she -- well, that picture there shows her when she came in 19 -- with her children there, that's the picture when she came in 1909. LINDA: Okay. BABE: One of those. LINDA: Okay, so they knew each other in Italy? BABE: Yeah, they got married in Italy. They got married in Italy. LINDA: Then came here separately. BABE: Yes. LINDA: Not at the same time? BABE: No. LINDA: Okay, I didn't understand that. Did they have children [unintelligible - 01:00:45]? BABE: Yeah, yeah. This one here it was 1910 when she came. There was three of them. There was the three. They would be 1, 2, 3 that she came back with. Of course she came here in 1909, 1910 there was another one added at that time. LINDA: So your father came without the family first and then brought them over? BABE: They all did that. They all boarded. If you will look at the directory, they all, the Italians all boarded someplace. They -- none of them had their own home or anything like that in the beginning, so their wives came over and then they would find a place. LINDA: So growing up and you're working with your father, did you work six days a week? BABE: Sometimes seven. Not too often, but sometimes we'd have things to do and we'd do it. So in other words you have to realize when I got to the working age, I was in the Depression, actually. So you took it as you could get it as far as work is concerned. LINDA: Did you work out during the daylight hours? 30 BABE: Oh yeah. We generally got home [unintelligible - 01:02:06] unless there was an emergency job you stayed later. We'd get home about five, five thirty from a job, start at eight o'clock in the morning. LINDA: And then you would eat dinner with your parents? BABE: Mm-hmm. LINDA: And who made the dinner? BABE: My mother. LINDA: What about your sisters? BABE: They were married by that time. Don't forget, they were completely -- they were much older than I was, so they were -- by the time that I started eating, you know, they were married. LINDA: So tell me what kind of things you ate. The types of things your mother made. BABE: All the good things that I like. LINDA: Which is what? BABE: She made spaghetti, pasta [la jour], even polenta. I know you know what that is. LINDA: Mm-hmm. BABE: In those days that was a poor man's meal. Today you go in restaurants you pay a fancy price for it. LINDA: I should have said no, I don't know what it is so you can explain to us on tape. I'll have to get that sometime. So what's polenta? BABE: Lentils, I like lentils. She used to make that, different soups. I'm sorry, what did you say? LINDA: What's polenta? What is it? BABE: Corn -- mush is what it is, actually. LINDA: How would she serve that? BABE: We'd put it on the board, on the table, you spread it all over a board, and then what we'd do, the fun we'd have is try to decide what we're going to carve, and everybody would just carve whatever shape we wanted. And another thing she'd do too at times would be so we would eat all of it, 31 she'd put meat in the middle, and you had to work your way. If you didn't work your way you wouldn't get to the meat. You know, whether it was a meatball a piece of pork chop something like that. LINDA: So it was kind of polite eating. You eat from the outside in? You don't just dig in. BABE: No, no you have to work your way in, clean the road as you go. But on holidays, surprisingly, my father would do the cooking. I know on Easter especially he would make the ham and fix it all up and put the garlic in it and so forth. He always did that. LINDA: Now, during the Depression, did you eat meat at all, or was that really a luxury? BABE: It was a luxury. LINDA: Were different foods prepared on a Sunday compared to the rest of the week? BABE: Yes, Sunday you would have a bigger meal. And during the height of the Depression, we'd probably get oranges at Christmastime, maybe a banana at Christmastime. The rest of the year you didn't need it, so you didn't get it. LINDA: Do you want to go back to your jobs then? BABE: My jobs? LINDA: Yeah, jobs. BABE: Such as? LINDA: Or your companies or your interests. Like the motels. How did you get involved in the motels? BABE: Well, we went out to get some materials. It was in New Jersey, picking up some pallets for the block plant at that time, and it was next door to a motel, the pallets and so forth, and I started talking to the fellow and so forth. And [unintelligible - 01:05:44] the business, and now I had the ice cream place, I had the tourist stopping, so the brain just clicked in it would be nice to have a motel in Leominster. We had none. That was the first one. So that's what I did. I built a motel. 32 LINDA: Where did you build it? BABE: On Route 12 right next to my ice cream place. So that -- I didn't have any money at that time, so that was a problem. I went to the bank, it was the first bank I went to, told them I wanted $25,000, to borrow $25,000, said what are you going to do and I explained. They said you can't do that for that price. I said oh yes, I can I buy all my materials wholesale, and I do all the work myself. And he said well, in that case you have to give me a list of what it's going to cost you because I can only loan you 80 percent of what you're going to pay. So my answer to him was you really don't want me to build the motel, do you? But I fought it. Like I say, I made up my mind I was going to fight it and I did, so I just kept going and we built it. LINDA: So did you end up borrowing the money from a bank? BABE: Oh yeah, I got money from a bank—not that bank though, another bank. But then I started with eight rooms and built another eight and built another eight, and then four more on that same site, and so that worked out good. That was a good business. LINDA: And you kept the ice cream business in addition? BABE: Yeah. LINDA: So who ran the motel? BABE: Hmm? LINDA: Who ran the motel? BABE: I did. There was nobody else to run it. My wife was busy with the children at that time. LINDA: I thought there were only 24 hours in a day! That's why I'm asking. BABE: Well, I still slept three hours. You get up in the morning at eight o'clock. About eight we'd go have some breakfast and then close about two o'clock. Three nights a week I'd make ice cream until about three or four o'clock in the morning. Then with the motel beside it, you get -- break up during the night, people checking in late, so that was the schedule for a number of years. 33 LINDA: Where were you living at this time? BABE: We built a house in back of the motel and ice cream place. LINDA: Okay. So did you advertise for the motel? BABE: Yeah, we did advertise on that. LINDA: So who was staying in the motel, people visiting? BABE: We had -- mostly it was a commercial motel and we had mostly salesmen, engineers, buyers. It was all very good class of business that we had, and tourists and so forth, but we had quite a reputation that we even had quite a few of the national companies that if they were within 50 miles of our place such as Gates Rubber from Colorado, Singer Sewing Machine, if any of their people were within 50 miles of our motel, we had direct billing with them, they'd stop with us. But we made it very, very comfortable for them, because we learned very early that a salesman or an engineer or anybody that's traveling alone is the most lonesome guy in the world. So the thing that we would do is if a guy comes in and he could be with the plastic industry, he's alone, somebody else we know is in the motel in the plastic business he's alone, we have them meet one another. They'd go out and from then on they'd come back, because they knew that it was always -- they were going to meet somebody there instead of just sitting in a room all night long. And we built up a wonderful business that way. In fact, even -- we had a regular customer of ours once got in an automobile accident, and he couldn't go back home and we were full, and we asked [unintelligible - 01:09:51] two people of other customers that one of our customers was in an accident and can't go home, would you mind packing up and leaving? They did. LINDA: Wow. BABE: You know, which is so unusual. We explained what it was, but even that was a family affair that they would. It was a lot of fun. We had a lot of 34 fun doing that. One of the regulars that came in would we would always be pulling jokes, stuff like -- one time he brought somebody in and my wife was in Florida with her mother at the time, so I don't know what made me do it, but this guy was saying I've got to meet your wife, I hear so much about it from the other guys. So I said, yeah, but you know, when you talk to her she's hard of hearing, so then I pick up my wife and I said this wonderful guy from Chicago is in room 9. Wonderful guy. He was doing management surveys for the [unintelligible - 01:10:58] on Adams Street. So I told Tina he's hard of hearing. So now when they come in, they're all there, because they always -- we had a lawn area that we sit at, and so I said, Tina there's the guy, so, "How are you," and they're hollering like two idiots back and forth, and everybody starts laughing. But it was good for a joke. But they all accepted it as such, and that's it. Now, the one I got to say on the ice cream place now, I'm going to take a [unintelligible - 01:11:30] had his favorite place. I gave ice cream to every church in Leominster but my own. We'll have to continue. LINDA: We were talking about you had a story about churches and giving ice cream. BABE: Yes, I gave ice cream to every church in Leominster but St. Anne's, my church. Because what would happen, even the synagogues, the Jewish would call up and they want ice cream, how much is it. And I'd say $5 a tub. When I'd bring it up I'd give them a receipted bill. My own people, when they'd call, they'd say, "Oh, we can buy it for $4.50," so I never had the opportunity to give it to them, right? LINDA: Really? BABE: That was in six years I think I gave to every church in Leominster but my own. Now, I never told them I was going to give it to them for nothing. They asked me what the price was. The price was $5 a tub. So I guess that's all right. We all still made it. 35 LINDA: How long did you keep the ice cream? BABE: From 1950 to 1958. LINDA: And what about the motel? BABE: Motel, sold that in '64. LINDA: You had two didn't you? BABE: Yep, sold the other one about the same time. The other one I bought. I didn't build the other one. LINDA: And what was that, West… BABE: West [unintelligible - 01:12:59] Motel. LINDA: Is that the one that's across from -- well, it's Sam's now -- I mean, not Sam's, Walmart. Is that the one? BABE: No, it's up further. It's at the junction of 110 and 12. LINDA: All right. So again, give me an idea of what a day was like for you when you owned both the ice cream shop and the motel. BABE: Hectic. Get up in the morning, help out at the place… you know, noon time was busy there and so forth. And then at night start checking in people at the motel, then come back and make the ice cream. Like I said, I did all my building in the wintertime, too. [Unintelligible - 01:13:48] like I built the motel myself, I did that all. And the other thing we did during that time again was one summer, which was really -- my wife got me involved, and we built -- with the people of Leominster now, they're very generous; we built a swimming pool for the Nazareth Home for Boys. So I'm the owner, I'm doing the blocks, and I'm doing all the rebuilding of it. And people always like to have fun, and I had fellows working for me, a police officer mowing my lawn at the motel and stuff. And I know that the day I laid blocks I was just about dead, and I come home and [unintelligible - 01:14:35] is really doing good you hired people to do work for you, you're getting lazy. 36 But that was all, it was a lot of work, just busy, busy. But I enjoyed it. I think someone said one time that work won't kill you, and it didn't. LINDA: It sounds like your wife was supportive. Very supportive. BABE: Yeah, she is. She did. She had to take care of the children, and she also, at the same time, she was taking care of her sister's. She was one of the waitress I had. She had to waitress, she took care of their two children too, then at night she would come up and help with serving customers. Although she was a troublemaker. She's the one that liked to joke with the customers. For example, we used to have -- a new product came out, the ketchup that you squeeze it, the pump it, they called it. On Saturday night we'd get those big gang of dancers come in, dress suits, ties. So this one guy was trying to get the ketchup on and it wouldn't work on a hamburger. We said, "Tina, why don't you throw these away? They don't work." So she says, "You don't mind if I squeeze it at you?" "Go ahead," he says, so of course, ketchup all the way down his face. She never worked on Saturdays, but one Saturday she's working and one of our good customers from Connecticut would come by every Saturday with his wife and family going to New Hampshire camping. I'm outside talking to the guys and he came out and said, "You know, I don't know who that new waitress you got, but you better fire her or you won't have no customers left." I said, "Which one?" I said, "I can't fire her, she owns it!" But it was always funny, and I think that's what kept it going. It wasn't -- we enjoyed it, and that's probably what kept us going. We didn't look at it as a job or as work. We looked at it as something to do, and we were happy while we did it. LINDA: Did you have many employees? 37 BABE: Well, probably on the weekends was the most. It was probably about eight or nine of us on a weekend working. LINDA: Working at the ice cream shop, or… BABE: As far as the motel, it only required -- two girls would work just in the morning. That was separate girls, you know. A few hours they would have the rooms all ready. Then my children, we had the miniature golf. LINDA: Oh, that's right did. You built the miniature golf next to the ice cream shop? BABE: Yeah. LINDA: Now, where did you get that idea? BABE: I saw one, and I thought it would be nice to have, so I built one. LINDA: So, again, would that be the first miniature golf place in Leominster? BABE: No, there had been one for years and years up on North Main Street behind the bowling alleys. The motel was the first one in Leominster. LINDA: Well, then tell me about building the miniature golf. You actually designed it and built it? BABE: No, I didn't design it. The people I bought the equipment from did the designing of it. But I built it, I put it in there. Everything was designed by them, and I bought all the fixtures and so forth from them. LINDA: And then your children worked there? BABE: Yeah. LINDA: So how did you and your wife feel about education for your children? BABE: We felt tops for education. We probably made a couple of mistakes educating our children. To be very honest, I think St. Ann's, my son went there, and I think that was a mistake because there was [unintelligible - 01:18:44] 60 kids in the first grade. And had he went to where I went to school, they had 11 children. It would have been almost like a private tutoring. So what we did with him to pick up, we sent him to Julie Country Day afterwards, which is a private school, and from there he went to Worcester Academy. LINDA: I guess I'm interested to know how something like that happens. 38 BABE: Like what? LINDA: Like that you went to the 9th grade, you said, and your father is an immigrant who came over here to work so hard, and you know, he may not have had much schooling, and then all of a sudden your son is going to Worcester Academy. BABE: Because I wanted him to go there. LINDA: Because you wanted him… BABE: Oh yeah. LINDA: And why did you want him… BABE: In fact, [unintelligible - 01:19:34] when people ask me what I did I say I'm a bum. And of course my son must have heard me two or three times and, I know when he was ready to go to college, he said, "Dad, I don't want to go to college. I want to be a bum." I said, "You're going to be an educated bum." And he went to college, which he did very, very good [unintelligible - 01:19:51]. But no, we felt that the he lacked the basic knowledge at the very beginning. /AT/pa/mlb/es

Issue 57.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1998. ; lived experience of all who find that the church's rich heritages of spirituality support their personal and apostolic Cbristian lives. The articles in the jou.rnal are meant to be ~nformative, practical, bistorical, or inspirational,°written from a tbeologi.cal o.r 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 correspondence 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 creatio.n of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer sJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read James and Joan Felling Kathryn Richards FSP Joe~ Rippinger OSB Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ David Werthmann CSSR Pa~icia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JULY-AUGUST 1998 ¯ VOLUME 57 ¯ NUMBER 4 contents 342 looking forward Encountering Hinduism: Being Stretched by God Elizabeth Hillis OCD presents her own experience of encountering another religion as a valuable gift and a new way of deepening our faith in God, who is always greater' than our understanding. 354 Towards the Millennium Donald Macdonald SMM ponders the different a'pproaches to the millennium--through our focus on circumstance or our focus on Christ. 368 pioneers Two 17th-Century Women of Wisdom: Mary Ward and Marguerite Bourgeoys Marion Norman IBVM presents, from the changing world of three and four centuries ago, two venturesome women as models of lived wisdom for the church and world of today. 387 A Path Traced Out: Providence in Mother Theodore Guerin's Life Mary Roger Madden SP draws a picture of Mother Theodore Guerin, a pioneer for the missions of the Sisters of Providence in the United States, who will be beatified on 25 October 1998. 33-8J Review for Religious 394 consecrated life Merger Issues and Ways to Address Them Beatrice M. Eichten OSF describes core issues involved when religious congregations seek some sort of merger and offers practical reflections on how to go about it. 4O7 Refounding by Honing the Purpose Concept Nihal Abeyasingha CSSR distinguishes two pursuits, purpose and values, and shows how such careful thinking can help religious in the renewal of their lives together. 419 living together Community: Intentional or. ? Catherine Harmer MMS clarifies the meaning of Christian community, with its four elements of support, challenge, accountability, and discernment. 429 Community Living: A Question of Balance Melannie Svoboda SND, on two continuums, sketches expectations and caring within religious communities and then offers individuals and communities some reflection questions. departments 340 Prisms 435 Canonical Counsel: The Evangelical Counsel of Obedience: Background and Development 441 Book Reviews ~dy-August 1998 Receive the Holy Spirit. Whose sins you shall forgive. prisms One of the most moving moments for me during a meeting with women and men religious in Johannesburg, South Africa, had to do with forgiveness and reconciliation. One of the participants, an Augustinian novice director, observed that, just as the government had set up a Truth and Reconciliation Commission to bring a certain peaceful closure to the painful memories of the apartheid era, so it might be help-ful in the church and in our various religious congrega-tions to establish a similar kind of commission. He noted: "The differences in policies and practices among whites, coloreds, and blacks--in our memberships and in our min-istries, not just between parish congregations but even within a single province of women or men religious---have caused pain and left scars that a church or religious-life truth and reconciliation commission might go a long way to healing." A deeply reflective silence followed, and then a chorus of voices began to express a universal agreement among the white, colored, and black religious present that this agenda needed to be pursued in future meetings among the conference members. Our life experience tells us that we human beings do not easily come to forgiveness and reconciliation. We even find the gift of forgiveness by God the most difficult of God's many gifts for us to accept. Commonly we try to earn forgiveness; we attempt to "make up" for whatever we have done badly or left undone. Our behavior is just as consistent in our relations with one another as it is with God. It is often evident in the way we offer forgiveness: on Review for Religious the condition that the person--whether it is my brother or sister, my son or daughter, my friend or fellow worker--performs in a way to deserve it. And yet forgiveness is just that: a gift "given for" someone. Jesus made it clear through his parables and his example that forgiveness is first a gift from God--given for us--and then God invites us into sharing the gift by the way we live. God so much wanted us to share in the divine way of acting that in the prayer that Jesus taught, it is the only petition to which our personal actions are connected: "Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us." Forgiveness is so far beyond our ordinary human capacities, Jesus seems to indicate, that, we need to pray for the gift in every "Our Father" we say. On that first Easter Sunday evening, Jesus appears to his dis-ciples-- all locked up in fear--and offers first for their peace the gift of his Spirit. With the permanent gifting of the Holy Spirit comes the power for us to forgive. The church for centuries has seen in these very words the foundation of the sacrament of rec-onciliation. But, long before the sacramental system was clearly delineated, the church understood the gifting of the Spirit and the power to forgive as an essential part of our Christian living in peace. Like Jesus, we are meant to stand ready always to forgive. The old saw "to err is human, to forgive divine" is very true. Even with the baptismal and confirmation gift of the Spirit, we more often feel weighted by our human meanness than moved by divine forgiveness. At first we might be inclined to think of forgiveness as being about the past. But, just as the Truth and Reconciliation Commission may be recalling past happenings only to look towards the future of South African society, so God's forgiveness of us and our forgiveness of one another always look toward the future--the way we will relate and the way we will act. That is why, as we prepare to enter into the third millennium, we need to invoke the Spirit. For our wbrld of age-old hatreds and fresh hurts cries out for us Christians to give witness to the precious gift of forgiveness. Giving witness to forgiveness--that will be our new evangelization. David L. Fleming SJ ~ly-August 1998 ELIZABETH HILLIS Encountering Hinduism: Being Stretched by God looking forward I am a Christian, a contemplative religious, yet for sev-eral years I have been learning about my God and about my faith from Hinduism. Is this a contradiction? Is it unusual? I do not think so. Religious pluralism surrounds us and allows us to cross boundaries that once set us apart from those who believe differently. Theologians study and write about how other religions experience God and the world; East-West dialogues have been set up between Christian and Buddhist monastic communities; in secu-lar and professional life we frequently encounter Hindus and Muslims, take classes in yoga, read about kundalini awakening, practice Zen sitting. How is the Catholic to grapple with the challenge to faith presented by such encounters? There is no easy answer, but from prayer-fully reflecting on my own experience I have gained some insights into this important adventure. First, I would like to make clear my belief that encountering.another religion is a valuable gift, that it is actually a divine call to open ourselves to a new way of finding ourselves in a world that is growing smaller, a new way of deepening our faith in God., who is always greater than our understanding. This gift may noF be for everyone, and it is seldom something we choose for ourselves. It just happens. Then we have to make room for it in our lives, room which may reorganize everything else. That is how Elizabeth Hillis OCD writes from Carmel of the Holy Family; 3176 Fairmount Boulevard; Cleveland Heights, Ohio 44118. Review for Religious it was for me, and this article presents some aspects of what I have learned in the process. My first direct contact with Hinduism was through a medical professional whom I met in 1989. From my first meeting with her, I was impressed with something that I felt instinctively had to do with her Indian origin and her Hindu beliefs. What drew me to her seems to have been related to the quality of her silence and serenity. Though busy with her medical practice and busy with being a wife and the mother of teenage children, she seemed to. possess a poise and centeredness, an evenness of mind and judgment, a detached yet focused compassion for her patients and colleagues that was unlike anything I had ever witnessed. She seemed to have a secret source of strength. She once gave this state of centeredness a Sanskrit name, sthita-prajna, and spoke of how she had seen this quality in her own mother the last time she saw her before she died. With her husband and children, she had returned to India to visit her parental home. Her mother had welcomed them joyously, but,. when it came time for them to leave, the mother was equally able to let them go. Her outward serenity seemed clearly to come from serenity within. It was the same quality that I had noticed in this woman. Stbita-prajna, written on a small piece of Post-it paper (that I still have!), was the beginning of my study of Hindu religious texts. My first reading was of the Bhagavad-Gita, probably the most pop-ular and widely read of all the Hindu scriptures, and that which is dearest to many Hindus. There, in the second chapter, I met stbita-prajna again, where K_rishna explains to Arjuna the qualities of an integrated person who can regard all things, persons, and experi-ences equally with detached interest. The Gita states: When a man puts from him all desires that prey upon the mind, himself contented in self alone, then is he called a man of steady wisdom. Whose mind is undismayed though beset by many a sor-row, who for pleasures has rio further.longing, from whom all passion, fear, and wrath have fled, such a man is called a man of steadied thought, a silent sage. Who l~as no love for any thing, who rejoices not at whatever good befalls him nor hates the bad that comes his way-- firm-stablished is the wisdom of such a man. And when he draws in on every side his senses from their proper objects as a tortoise might draw in its limbs--firm-stablished is the wisdom of such a man.~ ~uly-August 1998 Hillis ¯ Encountering Hinduism While this text does not represent the whole of Hindu thought, it does touch on an important element, the yoga (or practice) of renunciation. What is renounced here is not human activity or experience, but the tendency to attach oneself to human experi-ences in such a way that they destabilize the self. These are the "desires that prey upon the mind." Pleasures and sorrows, good and bad experiences, still come and go, but they no longer disturb the person who is established in the truth of the self (atman). Such a person lives in a state of equanimity, stbita-prajna, "steady wisdom" or stable consciousness. My friend had seen this in her mother, and I had seen it in her. In ~ubsequent conversations she explained her understand-ing of a related discipline, what the Gita calls karma yoga or the "yoga of detached action." All work is to be done with detach-ment because it is our duty. Attachment to the reward of our works ties us to what we do; nonattachment frees us from such bondage to deeds (karma). Therefore, detached, perform unceasingly the works that must be done, for the man detached who labors on to the highest must win through. (BG 3.19, p, 55) Furthermore, offering the work to God is a spiritual sacrifice that brings freedom. Content to take whatever chance may bring his way, sur-mounting all dualities, knowing no envy, the same in success and failure, though working still he is not bound. Attachment gone, deliverance won, his thoughts are fixed on wisdom: he works for sacrifice alone, and all the work he ever did entirely melts away. (BG 4.22-23, p. 59) The Gita goes on to teach that the person who is stabilized in self, sthita-prajna, and who engages in d~tached action, karma yoga, has yet another step to take toward complete integration and freedom: devotion or bhakti. This is to make all existence, all action, a means of loving God. The god referred to in the Gita is Krishna, an incarnation of Vishnu, and it is he who instructs Arjuna: "Let him sit, his self all stilled . . . his thoughts on Me, integrated, yet intent on Me" (BG 6.14, p. 66). Thus the stabi-lization of self and the yoga of detached action are not enough by themselves to bring liberation: one needs to focus the mind and heart entirely on a personal god. Bhakti (loving devotion) is nec-essary; a surrender to the divine being both completes the task of personal integration and makes it possible. Review for Religious The source of all am I; from Me all things proceed: this knowing, wise men commune with Me in love, full filled with warm affection . To these men who are ever inte-grated and commune with Me in love I give that integration of the soul by which they may draw nigh to Me. (BG 10.8,10, p. 78) Steady consciousness, detached action, and loving devotion to a personal god, such are a few basic teachings of the Gita which might be an interesting parallel to the Christian path toward union with God. But I am not sure that the study of Hindu texts alone would have held my interest if it had not been for the liv-ing example and friendship of a contemporary Indian woman who was willing to share with me her own experience of her religion. In addition to our infrequent conversations, I had the witness of her own life, which concretely modeled what I~read. She partic-ularly exemplified the path of karma yoga by making offerings to God of her everyday actions: her medical practice, her care of husband and children, driving a car, shopping. I am not speak-ing here of a woman who was externally "religious" in an obvious way. She was far from any Hindu community where she might visit a temple or gather with others in .devotional rituals. Her home, her clothing, her habits were fully American. Her children attended the local public high school. Yet she was attempting to conform her life to the wisdom of the Gita, to live an integrated life as best she could, to work with detachment, to teach her chil-dren the values and beliefs she had internalized. Did she succeed? It seems to me that she did in a way she never planned. In November 1991 she was diagnosed as having a brain tumor, which in spite of all treatment slowly took every-thing away from her: her medical practice, her power of thought and judgme.nt, and even life itself. In this situation of tragedy, she asked, not (as we all might) "Why me?" but "Why now?" She regretted more than anything that she would not see her chil-dren grow up. Yet at the same time she struggled to live in a spirit of self-surrender, one day at a time, sometimes feeling better, often feeling worse. I saw in her a growing search for a hope that could take her beyond the limitations of her physical weakness. From time to time she asked her husband to bring her to our monastery chapel, where she spent time in silent meditation, sit-ting beside him or with one of her sisters who had come from India to care for her. She brought all of her family to meet me, to Hillis ¯ Encountering Hinduism talk about meditation, or to share her questions on whether to seek further treatment. She asked for the address of a place of prayer where she could make a retreat, though she was never well enough to carry out this i~lan. . For me it is significant that this Hindu woman found in a Christian monastic setting a place where she could experience peace and gain insight again into how to live her life fully to the end. We had never spoken of religious questions with a view to converting one another, and yet, with each other's help, both of us had grown in following our own path to God. I like to think that, just as her %lues and beliefs had deepened mine, the witness of a contemplative religious had helped develop in her the "devo-tion" to a personal god that she knew from the Gita: Whoso at the hour of death, abandoning his mortal frame, bears Me in mind and passes on, acdedes to my own mode of being; there is no doubt of this . Then muse upon Me.always. for, if you fix your mind and soul on Me, you will, nothing doubting, come to Me. (BG 8.5,7, p. 72) I have no evidence that my friend found consolation in this text of the Gita as I do now when I think back to her last months. There comes a time when we cannot accompany those we love in their final journey. But knowing that these scriptures were part of the fabric of her life makes me sure that their content and mean-ing had been internalizeddn the way that we Christians have sim-ilar texts engraved in our memory and our heart: "Come to me, all you who labor and are heavily burdened, and I will give you rest" (Mr 11:28). In~ the end the truths that we live by, and die by, are very simple. I miss Shobha. I know that in some mysterious way my life was changed by our friendship. But it was also changed by the religious encounter that was the context of our relationship. Since her death I have studied Hinduism patiently and perseveringly from many different perspectives, and I know that I shall con-tinue to. do so because, just as it did in the beginning through her, this encounter with another religion still constantly reveals God to me. I have taken some time to detail what "happened" to me. Now I need to question how I have (or have not) integrated it into my life. How do I remain a Christian and deepen my Christian under-standing and commitments by learning from Hinduism? How Revlew for Religious does anyone stay balanced when crossing the boundary that nor-mally sets Christian experience apart from the non-Christian? I have formulated four guidelines for my own use, which could be applied to any situation of interreligious exploration, but which here I apply to my study of Hinduism. They are, briefly: (1) Take seriously the differences between my own tradition and that of another religion. (2) Pay attention to the details that I notice. (3) Follow the questions that naturally arise. And (4) keep looking back at my own tradition. First, I need to take seriously the differences between my Catholic beliefs, theology, and practices and those I see in a Hindu friend or read about in a Hindu text. Great injustice can be done both to my own self-understanding and to my real appreciation of the "other" if I look only for similarity of shared views or experience. We may have much in common, but there is probably a much greater area of difference. To over-look this, or to settle for a vague intuition of universal connectedness, is not helpful. It may even be harmful, and it is certainly not respectful of the other. It is usually not true that we are all saying the same things in dif-ferent words. Very often we are saying quite different things about the divine, about human life, and about the nature of human/divine interaction. I had to keep this realization in mind during my conversations with Shobha. It was necessary for me continually to ask myself what she meant by a certain explanation of her beliefs. I had to go to the texts she quoted and try to understand them as she did rather than separate out inspiring' thoughts that fit comfortably into my Catholic framework. An example is found in the texts quoted above from the Bhagavad-Gita and the Gospel of Matthew. In both places the words "come to me" are used, by Jesus and by Krishna. Yet the context shows that Matthew's Jesus is inviting his hearers to human discipleship in the present life, a discipleship which involves a specific sort of following, a willingness to learn of Christ, humility of heart, and the patient carrying of the burdens of life. On the other hand, the Krishna of the Gita calls the devo- How does anyone s tay balanced when crossing the boundary that normally sets Christian experience apart from the non-Christian? Hillis ¯ Encountering Hinduism tee to an inner concentration on his divine being, leaving behind any attachment to human life which could tie the soul to earthly existence and necessitate further cycles of rebirth. In both situa-tions divine comfort is offered to the person who approaches God in loving trust, but in one case the fulfillment given by Jesus is incarnational while, in the other case, material exis(ence must be transcended for the sake of merging with Krishna in his univer-sal form. On the surface it is natural that the words of Krishna would call to mind those of Jesus, but it must always be kept in mind that Krishna is not Christ, nor is his relationship to the devotee the same as that of Christ to the Christian disciple. It seems best to let the differences simply stand as they are. We can learn from the tension of holding these texts side by side and see-ing both what they are saying and what they are not saying. We also learn the detachment of letting others come to Krishna dif-ferently than we come to Christ. This recognition of difference leads into the second guide-line, to pay attention to the details we notice. It is in the details that we most frequently confront the differences that exist between religions. Although it may seem helpful to generalize about another religion in order to have a coherent way to grasp its tenets and the interrelationship of belief and practice, such generaliza, tion gives a false sense of mastery. It glosses over unwieldy facts which do not fit the pattern that a predetermined theology assigns to "non-Christian" experience. If we really want to take another religion seriously, it is worthwhile to read its sacred writings and hear what its followers have to say about themselves. This means attentive listening and openness to a diversity we might not expect. Unfamiliar mythology will frequently perplex us; moving rituals or insightful texts will possibly attract us; exotic practices may repel us. In one way or another, a good many unmanageable details will keep us aware that Hinduism is vast, complex, and varied in its expressions. It takes time and serious application on our part to identify and unlock the meaning of certain key con-cepts. Patient attention to the details we do not understand keeps us in a position of humility. There is much we may have to leave unexplored and unexplained. This is in itself a most respectful way of approaching the "other"--to acknowledge the mystery and to let it stand as it is. It is God we are meeting in this mys-tery of the other, God who acts in the lives .and values of real people who do not believe or think or Worship as we do, God Review for Religious whose grace is far more extensive than our theological constructs might have us realize. Details lead us to question what we are learning. It is impor-tant at this point to follow the questions that arise and to allow them to open new questions, new vistas of understanding, and new mys-teries of God that we cannot begin to penetrate. When the details make me aware that Krishna cannot really be considered a Christ-figure, that he teaches a very different sort of doctrine than Jesus, then I naturally begin to ask: Who is this Krishna? What is his origin? How is he human, how divine? What sort of deity is he? How do people relate to him, worship him, love him, serve him? Such questions are the heart of interreligious experience, but they probably cannot be asked until we have gone through the pre-liminary steps of taking seriously the other religion. As long as I do not consider Krishna to be an authentic deity for a con-siderable number of real people, there is a danger that I will consider him to be only a fable, a religious fiction that need not be reckoned with in a serious way. The situation becomes even more complex if I .begin to follow these initial questions and find that there is not only the Krishna of the Gita, but also the Krishna of north-Indian mythology and the Krishna of south-Indian devotional poetry. How are they the same deity and how different and how do the various strands of the Krishna tradition combine and intermingle? To find out who Krishna is will lead me to question what a deity is, how mythology is part of every religious figure, how story and experience and ritual play a part in the development of belief. These vast questions have opened up for me simply because I paid attention to details about a god who is foreign to my religious tradition. It soon becomes obvious that, to pursue these questions, one must study seriously. This is an important point because encoun-tering another religion has to engage more than my feelings of attraction or repulsion or my intuition of realities beyond words. I need to use my mind in a careful and persevering way in order to enter into the world of the Hindu, who may seem to have Encountering another religion has to engage more than my feelings of attraction or repulsion or my intuition of realities beyond words. ff~dy-August 1998 Hillis ¯ Encounte~ing Hinduism human feelings of devotion similar to mine, but whose way of thinking about religious truths may be unlike any systematic approach familiar to me. Unless thought is explored by thought, there can be no real understanding of the other. To set ourselves to this task is, in one sense, to pursue an unrealistic goal, because the scope of another religion is so vast and the context so for-eign. Yet the very impossibility of the endeavor to think beyond our categories is what calls us to begin, in whatever small ways we can. To try to think with a Hindu about her beliefs, even by read-ing a sacred text she treasures, to set aside prejudgments that would restructure her beliefs in a Christian framework, to thoughtfully pursue questions about the differences we see, but without ever coming to the end of those questions, is to stumble into the vastness of God with a new appreciation of how very limited is the human grasp of Divine Reality. Vv'hen it is so difficult and time consuming to learn about another religion, why would anyone bother? The reason may be that there is an Other whom we do not know and curiosity leads us to investigate beyond what is familiar and comfortable. The exploration of cosmic space is an example of the insatiable need we have to go where we have never been, to understand what we do not yet know. In the experience of going beyond our bound-aries, an incredible miracle can happen. Our astronauts experi-enced it the first time they walked on the moon. It was the miracle of looking back and seeing the planet Earth as one single unit, not a globe divided into nations and territories. It so changed their view of life that, when they returned home, they were impelled to do all they could for unity among the peoples who inhabit the planet, to share their vision of the whole with as many as could receive it. A similar paradigm shift occurs when we try to step into the world of another religion: we see the human quest for God in a different way than before. It becomes necessary to work for a more reverent view of the religious "other." It is no longer possible to criticize or to compete or even to compare; in whatever limited way we can, we must seek to understand. Boundaries between countries and differences between religions will continue to exist, and such differentiation is healthy. But the boundaries can become permeable; the differences can contribute to increased self, understanding. The last step in the process of learning from another religion seems to be that it leads us to keep looking back at our own tradi- Review for Religious tion. Whether we start our investigation because we are curious, or because it seems a good thing to pursue, or simply because it "happens" to us, we will always find it necessary to look back. We need to be firmly grounded in our own tradition and to be deepening our roots continuously as we look outward. In my case, many years of pondering the Scriptures, the Carmelite mystical tradition, and other Christian mystical writings--and some famil-iarity with theology--give me a stable position for looking into Hinduism. I am spontaneously attracted to the writings of Hindu mystics, and these, in turn, call me back to well-known Christian texts that seem almost parallel in their expression of the search for God. Let us put the above-quoted text from the Gita on detached work alongside a maxim of John of the Cross: Therefore, detached, perform unceasingly the works that must be done, for the man detached who labors on to the highest must win through. Content to take whatever chance may bring his way, surmounting all dualities, knowing no envy, the same in ~uccess and failure, though working still he is not bound. Attachment gone, deliverance won, his thoughts are fixed on wis-dom: he works for sacrifice alone, and all the work he ever did entirely melts away. (Bhagavad-Gita 3.19, 4.22-23, pp. 55 and 59) God is more pleased by one work however small, done secretly, without desire that it be known, than a thousand done with the desire that people know of them. Those who work for God with purest love not only care nothing about whether others see their works, but do not even seek that God himself know of them. Such persons would riot cease to render God the same services, with the same joy and purity of love, even if God were never to know of these. (St. John of the Cross, Sayings of Light and Love, 20)2 When texts are paired in this way, we can look back and forth between one tradition and another and gain from the light each one reflects upon the other. We see the obvious and important dif-ferences and the questions which these raise, but this need not prevent us from letting the two texts illumine one another. Francis X. Clooney SJ, to whom I am indebted for this insightful model of comparison, makes this comment about parallel texts: "As I read back and forth., each keeps showing me a way to the other, ~uly-August 1998 Hillis ¯ Encountering Hinduism and I end up with a doubled insight, a spiritual 'sense that goes beyond either text by itself. Pairing texts such as these creates a visual tension and emphasizes the enhancement of meaning occurring when we take our own tradition and another seriously and reverently, at the same time, together.''3 Such a bringing together of texts provides a way of integrat-ing our previous Christian commitment with any experiences that cross religious boundaries. Each encounter with the "Other" echoes back to something familiar even as it draws us beyond. We learn to look alternately in both directions without criticism or superiority, but in humble and careful appreciation. Actually what seems to take place when we look into another religion and then back at our own over a period of time is a weaving back and forth between the two in such a way that the ideas, texts, or expe-riences complement each other and intermingle fruitfully without distortion of their origin.al identity. We do not try to force par-allels, but merely look back and forth from one text to another where different traditions are attempting to grapple with com-mon questions about human experience of the divine. What I learned from Hinduism about sthita-prajna, about karma yoga, and about bhakti enable me to take a new look at detachment, duty, and devotion and at the freedom I have in sur-render to Christ. My frame of reference is not the same as that of the Gita; I am not a devotee of Krishna, but a disciple of Christ. Yet I believe I am a better follower of the gospel and a better reli-gious because of my contact with the Gita and with a woman whose life exemplified for me her Hindu beliefs. My questions about Krishna and what sort of deity he is lead me to look at what sort of God I worship and love and serve in Jesus. Without the vantage point of Hinduism, without (as it were) standing on the moon, I might not have had the perspective to look back and see in simpler terms the unity of my own Catholic faith and the rad-icality of my contemplative quest. I am certain that, without step-ping outside my own Catholic worldview, I would not have been grasped and changed by the vastness of God, who is very present in Hinduism in a way that will always be a mystery to me. The gift of encountering another religion is well worth the demands it makes on us in time, openness, vulnerability, or patient study. There is risk, but if we look back as well as forward, if we stay poised in the tension created by who we are as Catholic and how we are discovering God in non-Christian experiences, if we Review for Religious pay attention to differences, details, and questions, it is very pos-sible that we will be overtaken by the miracle of finding ourselves anew in a world of faith, where we learn from our non-Christian neighbor how very big God is. Notes ~ The Bhagavad-Gita 2.55-58, trans. R.C. Zaehner (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969), p. 52. The Zaehner translation of the Gita is the most tex-tually accurate, but I quote with apology for the lack of inclusive lan-guage. The Sanskrit text meant "he" because it was primarily addressed to higher-caste males. 2 The Collected Vdorks of St. John of the Cross, trans. Kieran Kavanaugh OCD and Otilio Rodriguez OCD (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1991), pp. 86-87. 3 Francis X. Clooney SJ, "In Ten Thousand Places, in Every Blade of Grass: Uneventful but True Confessions about Finding God in India, and Here Too," Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits 28, no. 3 (May 1996), pp. 1-42, esp. pp. 2-3. See also his "Praying through the Non-Christian," Review for Religious 49, no. 3 (May-June 1990), pp. 434-444, and his Seeing Through Texts (New York: SUNY Press, 1996). In chapter 5 of this work, Clooney gives many illuminating examples of parallel Hindu and Christian texts. Many foreign missionaries depend upon people like you who donate subscriptions for them to Review for Religious. To start a subscription for a deserving missionary, please send $24 to: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Blvd. ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108 To pay by credit card, phone: 314-977-7363 or fax: 314-977-7362 L353.-- July-August 1998 DONALD MACDONALD Towards the Millennium Ibrecall a series of magazine articles on foreign travel written y people who had never been to the countries they described--this approach would be objective! The magazine was, of course, being humorous. But, in fast-moving times such as ours, we perhaps speak too glibly of the years ahead. Wisely, then, does Tertio millennio adveniente emphasize "preparation for." with a view to being ready for the psychological dynamism of a new beginning should it come. For it is better to examine the present moment with a view to the future than to just dream of what may or may not be. From the Christian perspective, we have the choice of cen-tering either on circumstance or on Christ. I shall sketch briefly what each of these choices means, and then examine them both at greater length. The center of gravity of mature individuals, it has been said, is always to be found where they actually are. Such people accept responsibility for and from the situation in which they now find themselves, even when it is a difficult one. While all of us grow older, not all of us grow up, and so not everyone manages to retain this center of gravity, this poise. We do not automatically mature. People try to avoid responsibility and look for the gap in the hedge. By profession, by publicly giving our word, we religious are considered to have invested ourselves in a group of people who have the intention of identifying with the will of God. Here we are Donald Macdonald S!VIM writes for us the first time eve~ from his native Scodand: Montfort House; Darnley Road; Barrhead; G78 1TA; Scotland, U.K. Review for Religious meant to strike root, and growing maturity should help us exam-ine the present and future landscape from that perspective. In practice, then, our center of gravity is either in circum-stance or in Christ. Present circumstances, like the electricity bill, seem so real as to define reality; they appear so immediate that response to them seems inescapable. Yet, if we are always latch-ing on to current circumstance, reacting to what we think is hap-pening, we should not be surprised to find ourselves with the patchwork personality of a rag doll. It is almost impossible to have a center of gravity in forever changing circumstance. To drive a particular car, the advertiser tells us, means "You know you are a success." Equally the ecology lobby may suggest an indifference to our present environment. Fashions change even in church and religious life. Wise are the religious who never iden-tify wholly with what they are doing at the expense of who they are. To have even a toehold in the present, it helps to have a foothold in the past; "real development is not leaving things behind as on a road, but drawing life from them as from a root.''~ Taking our identity and sense of worth chiefly from present cir-cumstance can never give us such a root; hence, as the millen-nium approaches, there is a sense of rootlessness among many people, people who are subject to the tyranny of the contempo-rary. On the other hand, what is our perspective on life when our center of gravity is in Christ? The ministry [of Christ] has gone on for nineteen centuries and more, and it still goes on. What is the secret of its stay-ing power? The answer of the whole New Testament is that it is the risen Christ himself who is carrying it out. It is very easy for us, who have been brought up in a scientific age, to think of Jesus bequeathing his principles and ideals to his followers and leaving it to them to take up and carry on the task he is presumed to have laid down somewhere about A.D. 30. That is not the New Testament picture at all. There can be little doubt that, if it had been left to the disciples to take up tasks, their choice would have fallen elsewhere . No: the secret of the matter is that it is Christ who picks up the threads, Christ who takes the lead, Christ whose presence and power are one constant inspiration and strength. The resurrection means above all just this, that Christians do not inherit their task from Christ, they share it with him. We are not the successors of Jesus but his com- ~dy-August 1998 MacdonaM ¯ Towards the Millennium panions. That is the measure both of our privilege and our personality.2 Insofar as this insight of faith matures and truly becomes our own, we are taken out of ourselves into a growing realization of the gift of God in Christ in the present moment. This should be an endless source of wonder. We mature as Christians precisely insofar as we realize the wonder of the companionship offered through our baptism into Christ--that we are in the church and with him in the church. Transfiguration into Christ should be seen as a real option. Generations of saints and the genuinely good prove it. There is a world of difference between "succes-sor" and "companion." If we have not matured in Christ, as the New Testament understands it, we shall never understand this, and that perspective will not be ours. We are then unable to see what is there in the present moment in Christ. We are left to look for meaning and purpose in life elsewhere, not least in response to circumstances over which we have little control. A Prey to Circumstance The first thing to be said about approaching the millennium under the tutelage of circumstance is that we may not see it. We may have died. We may, too, be ill or incapacitated. Our limited circumstances will be world enough for us then. Some of us may decide to jump ship to look for a safer berth outside of our order or congregation. This is understandable as a response to circum-stance. Circumstances change and we fear the changes. What will happen to us in the millennium? The thought of sitting among strangers all day in a home for the elderly run by the town coun-cil, with little status and less independence, can really frighten us. Seen as changing circumstances, the millennium means inse-curry. That then, for the first time since our prot~ession, we might find ourselves genuinely "poor in fact and spirit" (Perfectae cari-tatis §13) might weigh little against our fear of radically changing circumstances. We will likely feel bullied and frightened as the coming millennium takes us into an unfamiliar world that we can-not control. We may also be afraid of the changing culture, particularly in the West. The values which to some extent have formed us and to which we have tried to give our lives may increasingly be pushed to the edge. The sales person with a product nobody wants is in Review for Religious a frightening position. Contemporary movers and shakers who set the pace and seem to write the agenda for living may marginal-ize us. The millennium may see us, then, washed further up onto the shore of utter irrelevance. Who are we then? From a Christian standpoint, there is a progressive coarsen-ing of life generally. The positive values of our culture--built on our Judeo-Christian ethic, however imperfectly practiced--have hitherto managed to order relationships between individuals, neighborhoods, bureaucracy, law, and society. Shared assumptions mapped out life around us. This is now changing. The unborn, children, and the elderly are particu-larly vulnerable. The intrinsic dignity of individuals as created by God and redeemed by Christ, along with that dignity's call for respect, is under increasing pressure as the gospel light which illumined human reality is dimmed. Tabloid newspapers and media culture generally appear to be governed by "the bottom line." People are treated cruelly and privacy is invaded as the poor and immature are exploited to make a dead-line. The worldwide picture seems even worse. Power, money, and sex have always been dominant in human behavior, but the pounds, francs, and dollars purchased in that world are often at the expense of the basic currency used there--people. Inevitably, reli-gious whose identity is primarily from circumstance will be influ-enced when not overwhelmed by this. They may approach the coming millennium in a state of free-fall, with numbing fear rather than challenging expectation. Contemporary culture is not wholly negative. The concern for our global environment is a positive value without being made an ersatz religion as well. There is, too, an active social concern to better the lives of people worldwide. But even here, with icons like Francis of Assisi, Mother Teresa, and many a selfless Christian neighbor, the picture painted is often of the church scrambling to catch up with something contemporary and worthwhile whose impetus comes from elsewhere. Whether this is true or not is beside the poin.t to people who take their cue. mainly from the present situation. We mature as Christians precisely insofar as we realize the wonder of the companionship offered through our baptism into Christ. y~uly-dug'ust 1998 Macdonald ¯ Towards the Millennium A further positive value is a growing awareness of transcen-dence and the spiritual. The church, which religious represent and which, one might think, could offer so much here, is again dis-advantaged. A common perception is that the Christian religion emphasizes morality at the expense of spirituality whereas Buddhism, for example, gives primacy to spirituality. It is sad to see this, but in practice it is often the gospel as lived and preached even by committed believers. The Pauline way of centering first on Christ, and then from within that companionship being open to life regardless of circumstance, is far from universal in Christianity as commonly experienced. There is often no real understanding of the motivation for Christian behavior. Religious marked with that lack are handicapped in approaching the mil-lennium. We cannot bring to the millennium values we do not yet have. An increasing desire for the spiritual cannot be met by religious who do not know how to mine that seam from within the past aiad present of their church. Whoever thinks of the future must be concerned with the worrying question of vocations to religious life. In much of the world, families are becoming smaller. The two-child family is not especially suited to being the home of vocations to religious life. And, with family relationships frequently breaking up, the home is not often a likely place for the nurture and support of religious vocations. Against this background the'shortage of candidates cannot just be put down to "bad" men and women religious not living up to the evangelical life to which they are committed. Young people growing up in a sometimes decadent media/pop culture readily get used to being fed on a diet of having rather than giving. "What's in it for me? It does nothing for me! The magic's gone! I'm too young for responsibility!"--such words, all turning on the idea of self-fulfillment, do not create a seedbed for future vocations to any form of adult Christian life. Long-term, open-ended, lifelong commitment is increasingly rare in contemporary culture. Nothing lasts. You are always let down. In nominally Christian communities, many adults do not mea-sure up and do not take responsibility for where they are. The increasing spread of what is held to be politically cor-rect can suffocate an authentic gospel life. The young, especially, need vision and courage if they are not to succumb, in an endless succession, to one or another flavor of the month. Often what is politically correct may not be evangelically right. A newspaper Review for Religious" cartoon, for example, shows a schoolboy buying cigarettes and asking the shopkeeper to wrap them in a copy of Gay News--an acerbic comment on a government policy advocating sixteen as the minimum legal age for homosexual relations while holding to the age of eighteen for buying cigarettes. In webs of circumstance like this, many young people may not be able to hear a call to religious life that is otherwise clear and inviting. Another problem today is that for many young persons the test of reality is how they themselves experience life. No one, particularly no authority figure, is going to tell them how to live their life! They are free! Vv'hat counts is what is trueJbr them. Reality is what they feel it is. Drawing upon a wealth of 20th-century experience, they are chary of giving ourselves to a guru, whether secu-lar or Christian. From the infamous results of "only obeying orders" to the pain caused by religious guides with feet of clay, the path is littered with casualties, and the hurts go deep. What people do not so well defend themselves against--and it can be just as damaging--is losing, unawares, their freedom regarding some contemporary matters, matters about which they adopt unthink-ingly the politically correct answer. The fetters here can hold as firmly as any medieval mindset is alleged to have done, and the damage may be terminal. To vow ourselves to God in religious life means that, to a greater or lesser extent, we commit ourselves to an overarching tradition and to a particular superior. Few people like constraint, and today God, parents, teachers, and other authority figures are often treated with pointed disrespect. There seems to be a com-pulsion for people to assert themselves in opposition to them, whereas nonauthority figures are often worshiped and can take us where they will. If the surface aggression is paramount, there is litde place for trust, and so a genuinely gospel community can-not be built. If this immaturity is carried to the approaching mil-lennium, there will be an inbuilt fault in the foundations of whatever we attempt to create. In the church, superiors are sometimes seen as the unaccept-able face of religion. Yet someone has to be willing to take the The increasing spread of what is held to be politically correct can suffocate an authentic gospel life. J~dy-August 1998 Macdonald * Towards the Millennium responsibility, especially in our unsetded times. It may cost much. The superior, in thrall to circumstance, will suffer particularly, always presupposing his or her own integrity while in office. A for-mer provincial superior, reflecting on his time in office, said; "One loses one's innocence when one is in a position of author-ity. Would it were otherwise"--but he notes that the great major-ity are not the cause of his hurt.3 Cardinal Basil Hume OSB, archbishop of Westminster, spoke of being misunderstood, misrepresented, disliked, criticized, and written off as a disaster.4 (Of course, this kind of thing, in today's jargon, "goes with the territory," but also is not always unde-served.) Yet now he has come to see such suffering as really a blessing. The disguise may seem impenetrable, but the blessing is there. When circumstances chastened and hurt him despite his best endeavors, he found it a marvelous way to grow in the Spirit. In the situation he came to see that only the gospel lasts. Everything else falls away, and ultimately he is graced with the realization that there is only the fidelity of God in Christ to be relied on. St. Paul, writing from prison, would agree: "God. has gra-ciously granted you the privilege (charis) not only of believing in Christ, but of suffering for him as well" (Ph 1:29). When we feel hemmed in and hurt by circumstance as we approach the millen-nium, it would help immeasurably if we were at home with the small print of the gospel. It really does translate experience for us--provided that we focus in any and every situation not on cir-cumstance, no matter how immediate, but on our risen Lord. The Company of Christ and Each Other As the basic guide for religious "is a following of Christ as proposed by the gospel" (Perfectae caritatis §2), it follows that to attempt this we need to know how to approach the New Testament, where the authentic portrait of Christ is to be found. We should test the assumption that, come the millennium, we will really know how to do this. It is the claim of Pope John Paul II that, given "the prayerful and meditated reading of the word . . . a humble and loving lis-tening to him who speaks., one's own vocation can be discov-ered and understood, loved and followed, and one's own mission carried out.''s This is a major claim, but the Holy Father rein- Review for Religious forces it when he says "the person's entire existence finds its uni-fying, radical, meaning in being the terminus of God's word." That is to say, if we mature into habitually, instinctively being a terminus of the gospel, all the threads of a situation and the capac-ity of life to shock or puzzle us will be brought together; whatever lies deepest in us will be reached; and we will be given to see pur-pose in life. For many this is but a worthy platitude, notionally true but factually unreal. Yet the claim stands. If we can find our way to becoming a terminus of the word of God, we will not nec-essarily have a trouble-free life, but we will be given a security which jostling circumstance cannot unsettle. We are, as has been well said, then in touch with the Pilot. Imagine if we approached the millennium from within that perspective, knowing it to be true! A cameo, chiefly from a few verses of Philippians 3, gives us a glimpse of how this might be done and of the dividends to be gained from doing it. From prison St. Paul wrote to his people in Philippi to thank them for remembering him there and for gen-erously sending one of their number to help and encourage him. The backdrop to the letter (and, in truth, the foreground to Paul's understanding of community) is soon stated: "I thank my God . ¯. for your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now" (1:3,5). Invariably it is "us" with St. Paul, never "me and you" unless he is forced to "speak like a fool" in defense of his stand-ing as a genuine apostle. This fellowship (koinonia) between Paul and his people, which stems from the realization of their oneness in Christ through baptism, is the overall context in which the interchange of the letter takes place. When, as here, it is under-stood and reciprocated, it both thrills and puts new heart into him. He writes from within the strength of that relationship to encourage it and further it. That insight of responsibility for each other in Christ is as valid today as then. If we approach the millennium determined to make our baptismal fellowship real by investing ourselves in the c.ommunity, we will communicate, at a deep level. It should be a priority and is well within the competence of most of us if, for example, it is expressed in a word of appreciation, a word of sym-pathy, a word of encouragement, a word of thanks. These are the building blocks, and the present moment is the time and place to lay them. As we know from experience, a word "in season," when genuinely meant, does really help and might encourage us and ~tly-Augttst 1998 Macdonald ¯ Towards the Millennium those around us to reach and welcome the millennium. "Friends are facts, and the good things you have done to them are facts," said G.K. Chesterton. This is time usefully and evangelically spent. Only insofar as we mature in Christian life will we do this and be able to sense how shoes pinch other people's feet. St. Paul writes of his present situation: "I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things" (3:8). The verb suggests total loss as in shipwreck or business failure. Everything has gone--family, status, career, security, good name. He writes from prison now. Initially he was compelled to leave Philippi after being given the standard flogging for a trouble-maker. His present situation follows the same pattern. Then, as now, circumstances are none of his choosing, but in the situation, as Cardinal Hume and many others found when similarly placed, he finds God in Christ: "for his sake I have suffered the loss of all things., in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him" (3:8-9). He is in fact in prison, but Paul knows that he is in Christ! There is his center of gravity. From the viewpoint of circumstance, his fidelity to the call of God's providence in Christ has wrapped him in rags and insecurity. The same situation, seen from the insight of faith, is altogether worthwhile, for it enables him to "gain Christ and be found in him." This is a superb place to be, with an enviable grasp of reality. What a center to move out from! Religious approaching the millennium would do well to try to make that perspective theirs. Whatever the circumstance, our risen Lord is there. We date the present from the moment of Christ's birth. He is our companion now. Each moment of each day as well as the millennium finds us wanting "to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his suffering by becoming like him in his death" (3:10). The verb implies close identity, and again transfiguration is offered as a real possibility. Paul discovered this not by whisding in a cemetery or in a library, but by applying the insight of faith to the circumstances of every-day life, good days and bad. Attempting in such company to become a terminus of the word of God offers us virtually unquan-tifiable dividends. Finally, for our purposes, Paul says, "I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own" (3:12). Again the situation is prison. Paul writes of racing to the finish of a race Review for Religious when in fact he is not going anywhere without his jailers' per-mission. The marathon of the Christian life which he entered at baptism is not particularly concerned with going from A to B to C, Rather, it means interpreting the present situation through a progressive deepening of understanding of what it means to be in Christ, There is never a situation or circumstance where our risen Lord is not there. Even in the isolation of crucifixion, if life is so cruel, even there we are nailed to the cross with Christ. Paul says that he has not yet fully matured in Christ. There is always more to be sounded in those unfathomable depths. The dynamic here is the wonderful realization that "Christ Jesus has made me his own." He wants to hold as he is now being held. Held within the security of his Lord who rose from a grave to make him "his own," Paul is a driven man. He is aware that his present situation may cost him his life--"I am being poured out as a libation" (2:17)--but it can never separate him from Christ. From this unchanging center, there is much more to be received and, within himself, much still to be surrendered. So, from within the security of his risen Lord whatever the circumstance, Paul is "still running, trying to capture the prize for which Christ Jesus captured me" (3:14). The imaginative appeal Of the imagery comes from an imprisoned Christian individual writing a letter of thanks and encouragement to his no doubt frightened people. So much seems to go so wrong so often. Yet he would have them think as he does: "Let those of us then who are mature be of the same mind" (3:15). Just what does he see? Religious who would be more mature as they approach the millennium could usefully examine their situation from that perspective. Does that insight interpret life for us at any level? Baptism into Christ means an invitation to a present relationship with God through the Spirit, not just loose membership in a particular group. Religious life has no other purpose than to invite us to enflesh that in ourselves by attempting to live for God alone at one with his will. The experience of St. Paul in times past is not without value, but what if it could be mine now? Understood from within a Spirit-graced Christian community, it pays altogether richer div-idends. It is not just an example of what someone did then, but an There is never a situation or circumstance where our risen Lord is not there. Macdonald ¯ Towards the Millennium invitation to consider what we can do now. This is interpreting life in the light of the gospel. Unifying, radical meaning is on offer here to those who try to be habitually open to receive. In Christ ours is a present reality. We are his companions, not his succes-sors trying to make what we can of a long-dead tradition. Accordingly, "to mature" means here that we have Someone to give and someone to be. This is not the least of what we can bring to the millennium. If we stay rooted in Christ, into whom we have been bap-tized, we can come to know that immediate circumstance is not all there is in defining present reality. There is no need to approach the millennium like stunned rabbits caught in the headlights. In Christ there is a vast arc of gospel fellowship among the living and the dead, all held in the present moment. We are one in Christ with so very many; and, if we can mature in their faith, we shall be given to see meaning in life. Rather than consider the millen-nium a milestone to be reached at a future date, a milestone that is being surrounded more and more by the massed choirs of the advertising media, why not stay where we are now in Christ and let the millennium (as indeed any circumstance) come to us? Always to be in the one place in Christ!--our center of gravity, our spiritual focal point, can only become more secure as we more and more see God giving himself to us there in Christ. This is where we are. We can then try to interpret circumstance through our risen Lord, knowing that, whether life is good or ill, we are never without the power of his resurrection or the fellowship of his suffering. Travel Light This is not to ~dvocate the passivity of a cow in the field. How could it when the reality of our life comes from our risen Lord who has made us his own? This is energizing, delightful presence, compelling us to be enlivened by it. Whatever a future calendar date brings, it cannot break that firm bond. Ultimately, it is all there is. We then want to make Christ really our own as he has made us truly his. For religious this should mean a hard look at our rule or founder's insight in the light of the gospel. We may have accumulated much. A mere middle-class lifestyle-- without the potentially maturing presence of husband, wife, or child--will not attract or challenge others. Should we not travel Review for Religious light to the millennium? Circumstances may be stripping us of much that we are attached to and find hard to give up, but we can nonetheless choose to drop even more. More has to be done to make our fellowship in the gospel a practical, reality. Arguably, the word community is heard now more than ever before, although there seems to be less of it. Religious profess to find God's will among a particular group of people. But only insofar as the risen Christ is real to them do imperfect individuals, living among others also imperfect and even dys-functional, have the courage to attempt this. If anything is to come of it, then, Christian maturity is essential. Without it we have nowhere to come home to--and indeed no one to be. It is no small achievement to welcome the millennium in the company of Christ and in full awareness that this company is all we have. How best to have this awareness in changing circumstances and amid lessening numbers is a problem. It is for different people to find various solutions in view of their temperaments and God-given gifts. No one can read the future, but, as T.W. Manson pointed out earlier, we are Christ's companions and the initiative of the entire gospel enterprise lies with him. There is no future for the maverick away from Christ. Inspirational individuals will always be found among those who habitually listen to the gospel, wishing to follow wher-ever it leads. Risk, challenge, and retrenching may be factors in an apostolate for the millennium. Community, it has been said, should be more like a hive than a nest. Ultimately, if the millennium finds us in Christ as the gospel understands this, we shall reflect his presence there. The pres-ence of Christ is the one ageless gift we have to offer. Circumstances change and situations sometimes frighten and even crucify, but the underlying reality for those who see with eyes of faith is the presence and power of our risen Lord. Here is where we live and move and have our being. We let life come and find us here. But we cannot do this complacently. We must foster a growing sense of awe and of our good fortune. The more real this awareness of presence is, the keener are we to share it with others. The sacraments (not least the Blessed Sacrament) are realities of presence, and we should try to share The presence of Christ is the one ageless gift we have to offer. d~lly-Augvtst 1998 Macdonald ¯ Towards the Millennium what we find there. They feed us as our life progresses. They are glimpses of life at the heart of our community, and they reflect mystery at the heart of reality. There is much more here than we can see, even graced by the insight of faith. As companions of Jesus, one with him and each other through baptism, we need to try to bring gospel fellowship to people in ways they can understand. Circumstances had Paul in prison miles away from his anxious people. To encourage him they sent one of their number. To thank them he wrote them a letter. They did what they could in less-than-ideal circumstances. Although cir-cumstances do not allow us to do all that we would like, we should not be discouraged from trying to do what we can with what falls into our hands. Remember, the initiative is from the presence and Spirit of our risen Lord. When we are open to his presence, we find we have a community; we have Someone to share. The millennium offers a challenge, and one of the best ways to meet it is for ourselves, our individual selves, to really make Christ our own and so try to be found always in him--and then to give from that center and invite others to meet Christ there. Our Lady and a cloud of saints once lived this life of faith, and, whatever the reasons for moving their statues from our churches and communities, we should again savor their company now in Christ. In the fellowship of the gospel, they can be real and not static presences. Many a secular idol will be worshiped as we approach the millennium. The Christian community can offer more than that. It was individuals sharing with others what they themselves had been inspired to see of the gospel who thereby inspired oth-ers so that even more followed and formed our various religious orders and congregations. We present-day members, perhaps feel-ing our lack of inspiration or vision, would do well to recognize our situation for what it is. If we are afraid, let us admit it, but let us not focus on fears without bringing to them the faith vision that so helped Paul and his people. For them this was no theo-retical exercise. It. could be equally real for us. "A loving knowl-edge of the word of God and a prayerful familiarity with it are specifically important for the prophetic ministry," says Pope John Paul. This echoes the conviction of the best in the church over centuries. This insight had and has now the power both to form an elite and encourage the frail. Review for Religious i G.K. Chesterton, The I~ctorian Age in Literature (London, no date), p. 12. 2 T.W. Manson, The Servant Messiah (Cambridge University Press, 1953), p. 98. 3 R. Rolheiser OMI, "The Last Word," The Catholic Herald (London), 4 July 1997. 4 Cardinal Basil Hume OSB, "Reflections on Leadership" (keynote address at Conference of Religious, 1997), Signum, 20 February 1997, p. 10. s John Paul II, Pastores dabo vobis, 1992. This and the next two quo-tations are from §47. Spirit Prayer Spiritt. Holy! Stirring birds and buds and Buddhists, Moving mothers, monks and Muslims, Turning wheels and churning waters, Shifting rocks and shaking ridges, Sweeping fields and forests, Raising bread and bodies, Spinning dreams and dancers, Whirling clouds and clowns, Filling sails and souls, sifting, Sounding, Singing, Sighing, Spirit, oht. Do what you do, Dance where you dance, Blow when you blow, Move us to move, To break from the laze of our days At the Word we have heard, With the Breath that will lift us from death. Mary Alban Bouchard CSJ j~dy~August 1998 MARION NORMAN Two 17th-Century Women of Wisdom: Mary Ward and Marguerite Bourgeoys pioneers Wisdom, which in biblical literature is usually personi-fied as a woman, is described in Proverbs 8:12-14 as "mis-tress of the art of thought" who shares house with Discretion; hates pride and arrogance, wicked behavior, and a lying mouth; and is a source of good advice, pru-dence, and perception. The Hebrew words for wisdom and wise man (hokhmah, Ex 36:2, and hokham, Jr 9:23) are used in various ways throughout the Old Testament to connote the skills needed to carry out tasks successfully. Hokhmah implies a deeper quality than cleverness, and hokham means not a clever know-it-all but a sage, one who, having acquired knowledge of the world and human nature, can penetrate to the depths of the human situa-tion, seeing it as a whole and then sharing that vision by giving prudent advice or immortalizing it in the form of proverbs or aphorisms. The prophet Jeremiah declares, "Let not the wise man (hokham) glory in his wisdom; neither let the mighty man glory in his might." In rabbinic literature, however, the wisdom of Proverbs has come to refer to the "wisdom of the Torah,". and the wise man now becomes the scholar Marion Norman IBVM (Loretto Sisters) presented this paper, here slightly revised, at the International Mediaeval and Renaissance Conference in Banff in May 1997. Her address is Loretto College; 70 St. Mary Street; Toronto, Ontario MSS 1J3; Canada. Review for Religious well versed in the Torah. The identification of Torah with wisdom dates from Deuteronomy (4:4-6): See I have imparted to you laws and rules, as the Lord my God has commanded me, for you to abide by in the land which you are about to invade and occupy. Observe them faithfully, for that will be proof of your wisdom and dis-cernment to other people, who on hearing all these laws will say, "Surely that great nation is a wise and discerning people." Thus, from originally implying little more than technical abil-ity, wisdom took on moral and religious connotations. In time it became synonymous with reverence for the Lord, as expressed in the Book of Proverbs: "Reverence for the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction" and "Let your trust be in the Lord. to show what is right and true" (Pr 24:7, 22). Hebrew wisdom was not alone in leaving its indelible mark on Western culture. Greek and Roman wisdom (usually referred to as philosophy) played a significant role as well, as did the leading Hellenistic philosophers, who claimed to teach their disciples how to live by providing moral instruction about what was right and wrong and how best to carry out their duties as individuals and in social relationships. Early Christianity perceived a certain affinity between its own aims, as expressed in the Sermon on the Mount, and those of Judaism and the best Greco-Roman philosophies. All three strains had a great influence on Western culture and, at the time of the Renaissance, came together to provide the intellectual, social, and religious context for the kinds of wisdom exemplified by the two 17th-century women of wisdom who are the subjects of this study. My selection of them has not been arbitrary. That the Bible even more than the Greco-Roman classics has' been the principal source of inspiration for both readers and writers of English lit-erature has long been recognized. Little wonder, then, that the biblical ideal of wisdom was carried over into the conduct of peo-ple's daily lives. This was particularly true of women, who, deprived of formal education in the s~ven liberal arts (reserved almost exclusively for males), relied on biblical primers and the Bible itself as their sole textbooks. We read, for instance, of female servants, shopkeepers, and housewives, especially among the Puritans, painfully acquiring a knowledge of the original biblical July-Aug'ust 1998 Norman ¯ Two 17th-Century Women of Wisdom languages for better access to the scriptural message. And, with the greater availability of biblical texts since the invention of printing and the Reformers' stress on the Bible as the "sole rule of faith," reliance on individual inspiration assumed central sig-nificance. The biblical concept of wisdom saw God as the source of wisdom for individuals seeking humbly to discover and imple-ment it as it was spelled out in the Torah. Each of these two 17th-century women received intimations of the direction in which the Lord was leading her, and, responding with docility and trust, received further clarification about God's plan for her in her own daily living. The response of Mary Ward (1585-1645) and Marguerite Bourgeoys (1620-1700) to God's invitation had implications both negative and positive. It meant, first of all, rejecting the usual pattern of marriage and family in favor of an exclusive conse-crated discipleship, freeing them for the service of the entire Christian community. This, in turn, involved a readiness to leave home and country if God asked it of them. Mary Ward For Mary Ward, at a moment in English history when adher-ence to the traditional religion was proscribed by the state and its preservation imperiled, the immediate need, as revealed to her by God and further discerned by experience, was for a total and free commitment to God that would flow out into love for oth-ers. She felt empowered to reach out to new needs and to devise whatever might be required to meet those needs. Inevitably, how-ever, the wisdom imparted in her close union with God in prayer entailed "the rejection, in whole or in part, of older, conventional patterns and methods that were no longer meeting new needs and situations. The clash between fidelity to divine guidance and official representatives of authority, as in the case of earlier bib-lical prophets like Isaiah and Jeremiah, was inevitable. Mary Ward's own response, which she constantly urged on her com-panions as well, was single-minded and unequivocal: "After busi-nesses I go to find myself in God, without any will or private interest and with a will only to have his will, which I cease not till I find."1 Mary understood this open and faithful orientation to God's will--desiring solely to love God and refer all actions to Review for Religious him--as adapting to the lives of consecrated women the lifestyle the church had already approved for Jesuits in their Formula insti-tuti. Precisely what this would entail was not revealed to her at once. In the first half of the 17th century, the cultural climate cre-ated by the Puritan and Parliamentary ascendancy brought forth a highly vocal group of educational reformers such as John Milton, John Dury, Marchmount Nedham, Samuel Hartlib, and Jan Comenius. At the same time the new scientific movement-- inspired by Francis Bacon as spokesman and promoted, under royal sponsorship, by the Royal Society of London--put Britain in touch with parallel interna-tional movements in France, Italy, and elsewhere. Voices of dissent were not failing, moreover, to speak out coura-geously on behalf of neglected groups of people--especially children of the poor and girls and women. These asserted, by their writings and actions, the rights of the counterculture against the prevailing climate of opinion, including the tendency to denigrate women. It is in the light of such conflicting views on the aims, con-tent, and methods of instruction that the enlightened and coura-geous leadership of women of wisdom like Mary Ward and Marguerite Bourgeoys should be seen. Although 17th-century politicians, theologians, and educational theorists were united in seeing the inadequacy of the current educational system to meet changing needs and priorities, they could agree on little else. Neither Francis Bacon nor John Milton apparently perceived women's education as necessary or even desirable. None seemed to see the value of preparing future mothers who would be responsible for the basic training of the young as future morally responsible and loyal citizens. For English Catholics the educational situation was particularly critical. Harassed politically, sodally, and economically and denied access to such employment as their rank and abilities deserved, they were crippled by taxes for nonattendance at Anglican services and threatened with imprisonment or death for possessing Catholic The biblical concept of wisdom saw God as the source of wisdom for individuals seeking humbly to discover and implement it. July-Aug~tst 1998 Norman ¯ Two 17tb-Century Women of V~dom books or providing accommodation to priests or Catholic instruc-tors. At an early age their children were forced to seek schooling on the continent, facing for up to nine years the loneliness, the foreign customs, languages, and climate, and the other handicaps of exile. Those without the necessary means were denied even basic instruction, while the care of the needy, the sick, the dis-abled, the aged, and the prisoners was entirely dependent on what-ever could be provided by families or individuals. Little wonder that the principal responsibility for transmission of and instruc-tion in the faith heritage devolved on the womenfolk and that, in the face of growing apostasy and indifference, a sound education for women as well as males came to be of crucial importance. Mary Ward, called by a recent historian "the greatest Englishwoman of the 17th century," was born at Mulwith near Ripon, Yorkshire, on 23 January 1585 (shortly before the defeat of the Spanish Armada) and died 30 January 1645 (shortly before the beheading of Charles I at the height of the Civil War). She came from a family noted for its staunch loyalty to the old reli-gion, which had been proscribed in England for more than sixty years. Failure to swear to the Acts of Supremacy and Succession and to attend services weekly in the local Anglican parish church made heads of families liable to imprisonment or even death. Mary's own parents and grandparents and she herself experienced such imprisonment, and several relatives were executed for their faith. The year before her birth, her fellow countrywoman, Margaret Clitherow, had been martyred at York. Like most children in such devout Catholic families, Mary received her early schooling and religious instruction in her own home and in homes of relatives and family friends. During those years she first felt the call to follow Christ in a life consecrated by vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. Since the time of Christ and the Apostles (as can be seen in the New Testament), women as well as men had chosen such a way of loving discipleship. From the Middle Ages, too, despite the weight of authority against women's right to education or the exercise of leadership outside their own homes, a surprising quantity of writ-ings by women has survived. Exceptional women like Hildegard of Bingen and Catherine of Siena played prominent roles that changed the course of history, notwithstanding the patriarchalism of church and state. Until the early 17th century, however, women's accepted' mode of service of Christ, apart from that of "helpmeet" Review for Religiotts in marriage, was a lifetime spent in contemplation within monas-teries such as those of Poor Clares and Carmelites. After the dis-solution of religious houses in England, that meant for Englishwomen a lifetime of exile in some foreign climate. Prayerful discernment, as well as natural prudence and obser-vation, convinced Mary that the best way for her to give her life to the service of her "Friend of friends" would be, not marriage, but "some other thing., without all comparison more to the glory of God.-2 Further light came in November 1615 regarding the kind of holi-ness which that "other thing" would require. Rejecting the commonly held view that "women could not do good except to themselves," Mary envisioned a different kind of women's vocation, one engaged in education and other works "congruent to the times." Her institute would be one marked by "a singular freedom from all that could make one adhere to earthly things, with an entire application and apt disposition to all good works." Members would "refer all to God," doing "works of justice. [We would] be such as we appear and appear such as we are . Grounded in this, we should gain at God's hands true wisdom."3 Mary defined what came to be called her concept of "the Just Soul" in terms of three kinds of freedom: freedom from attach-ment to worldly values, freedom for all works of justice necessary in this world, and freedom to "refer all to God." Her words for this special kind of holiness ~'evealed to her were "freedom," "justice," and "sincerity" (or "verity"), the qualifies by which we as human beings participate in God's own life of goodness and wisdom, and which, she insisted, we have the right to ask and expect of God. What seems clear is that Mary, considering these three free-doms of "the Just Soul" to be the qualities essential for living out the ideal of Christian holiness as envisioned by Ignatius Loyola, could see nothing to prevent their application to women as well Mary defined "the Just Soul" in terms of three kinds of freedom: freedom from attachment to worldly values, freedom for all works of justice necessary in this world, and freedom to "refer all to God." ff'uly-Aug'ust 1998 Norman ¯ Two 17th-Century Women of V~sdom as men. This became even more explicit in Mary's speech to her companions (1617) describing the virtues required for their way of life, of which a cleric had disparagingly said, "When all is done, they are but women." Mary's speech, because its depth of insight and vision for the future transcend her own institute and pertain to the whole concept of women's discipleship, deserves to be quoted: I would know what you think he meant by this speech . Fervor is a will to do good, that is, a preventing [preve-nient] grace of G~)d and a gift given gratis by God, which we could not merit. It is true [that] fervor doth many times grow cold, but what is the cause? Is it because we are women? No, but because we are imperfect women. There is no such difference between men and women. Therefore, it is not because we are women, but, as I have said before, because we are imperfect women and love not verity. It is not veritas hominum, verity of men nor verity of women, but veritas Domini, and this verity women may have, as well as men.4 Such was the vision that drove Mary Ward (after her two tri-als of the strictest form of women's contemplative life then known, the Poor Clares, both Flemish and English) and her five like-minded companions to cross the English Channel again in 1609. But Mary was a woman not only of vision but of practical common sense and ingenuity as well. Because at-the time both faith and morals were daily being eroded by ignorance and lack of access to the sacraments, the most pressing need seemed to be the provision of instruction for both children and adults. So, at St. Omer in the Catholic Netherlands, where there was a large English refugee population, they began educating, in secular and religious subjects, children of English refugees and the local poor. Their freedom from enclosure and from distinctive religious costume allowed them a helpful flexibility in their min-istry. They would sometimes wear fashionable dress when calling on gentlefolk (such as the archbishop of Canterbury, who had been desirous of meeting these ladies who had done "more harm than six Jesuits"), and sometimes "mean clothing" when visiting the prisoners or the sick (Mary Ward once disguising herself as a maid to gain access to a lady and bring her back to the practice of her faith),s Because adults, too, lacked instruction and often were destitute as well, the sisters extended their ministry to these further needs of those critical times.6 Review for Religious This new concept of religious life, freed of the restrictions of cloister, of government by male superiors, and of older male-inspired Rules, was so revolutionary that it proved both incomprehensible and unacceptable to ecclesiastical authorities steeped in the patriarchal assumptions of centuries. Today, when church and society are still trying to come to terms on the role of women, Mary Ward seems indeed a prophetic woman of wisdom in the Old Testament tradition. Unlike many visionaries, however, this woman had a vigorous practicality about her. What others said, Mary Ward did. Erasmus and Ftnelon said girls should be educated and, if they were above average intelligence, even taught some Latin as the key to all learning (though under male, direction, of course). Mary Ward opened schools in St. Omer, in Rome, and (under the very noses of pursuivants) even in London to provide education for all who desired it and, as far as they could, regardless of social distinctions. Guided but not bound by the Jesuit Ratio studiorum (1599), Mary believed that, since education is for life and a woman's life is not the same as a man's, the content should differ, though a woman's intellectual powers were by no means to be underrated. "God can use only good ones," she said of both teachers and pupils. So, in addition to the liberal arts and, of course, religion, her curriculum included painting, dancing, music (both vocal and instrumental), handwriting, speech training, drama, and modern languages. Language teaching was always a specialty in her schools, and for this no mere smattering would do, but only suf-ficient mastery to read the best authors of each language and to write it well.7 Originally most pupils were English refugees, but, as the schools spread throughout Europe, though English continued to be taught as a second language, the local vernaculars--French, Flemish, German, and Italian--were added. The nuns, who, as Mary Ward's Memorial of 1629 says, included '"Italians, Spanish, French, Germans, Netherlanders, Bohemians, Hungarians, English, and Irish," usually wrote to one another in Latin, Italian, or French (to make things harder for the English government's paid interceptors of mail). Another evidence of the foundress's farsightedness was that the syllabus included, besides the usual subjects, simple mathematics or "accounts." When one recalls that Samuel Pepys, secretary of the royal navy and a university graduate, required special tutoring to master the multiplication Norman ¯ Two 17th-Century Women of VV'tsdom table, this was very avant garde indeed, as was the inclusion of "globes," a combination of geography and astronomy. As her contemporary Richard Mulcaster had urged better training for teachers, so Mary trained hers so well as to attract the favorable notice of civil authorities (according to documents in the Brussels royal archives) and to elicit a request that she set up a training school for others. As prescribed in the Jesuit Ratio stu-diorum, Mary gave high priority to the teaching and supervision of educators. Writing to their novice mistress about two of her young sisters, Catherine and Cecilia, Mary insisted that their Latin studies should have precedence over everything except prayer and, as to fears that such studies would undermine humil-ity, she sensibly added: "This must and will be so common to all that there will be no cause of complaining." As an early memo in the archives expresses it, "The design of gur school being the sanctification of the mistresses who are members of it for the children of their care, they must be. proficient in writing and reading Latin and English."s The consequences of these high standards soon became so widely recognized that, as one Bavarian ecclesiastic expressed it, "The English Ladies. instill into both aristocratic and ordinary children a noble and well-mannered mode of living., so that they are kept with a loving restraint within the limits of good manners and propriety.''9 And, while the harsh treatment of chil-dren in English boarding schools was notorious even down to the 20th century, Mary advised: "In our calling, a cheerful mind, a good understanding, and a great desire after virtue are neces-sary, but of all these a cheerful mind is the most so.''1° Whenever a foundation was made, two schools were opened simultaneously: a boarding school, mainly for English refugee girls, and a free day school, the criteria for both being tractabil-ity, good manners, and the ability to profit from study rather than wealth or social position. In fact, because of the penury of many English refugees, fees were low and often totally remitted; in any case, they seldom kept up with inflation, especially in the countries affected by the Thirty Years' War. For the poorer chil-dren, especially those in the Italian slums, she provided training in skills that would enable them to earn an honest living, so much so that complaints arose that soon there would be none left to run the houses of ill fame. In imitation of what had been done ear-lier by St. Charles Borromeo, her sisters also ran Sunday schools, Review for Religious providing young servants with religious instruction, basic lan-guage skills, and preparation for the sacraments. And in England, where the priests had a price on their heads, both children and adults were made ready to receive the sacraments and opportu-nities were provided for them to do so. For the sake of mission, one member known only to the oth-ers as Sister Dorothea, living like members of modern secular institutes such as the Grail and Focolare, served as maid-com-panion in the home of the wealthy Suffolk gentlewoman Lady Timperley. Her own description of this ministry has a singularly modern ring: "I dare not keep schools publicly, as we do beyond the seas, . . . but I teach and instruct children in the houses of par-ents . Besides teaching of children, I endeavor to instruct the simple and vul-gar sort. I teach them their. Pater, Ave, Creed, Commandments, etc . I tend and serve poor people in their sickness., make salves., endeavor to make peace among those at variance."11 For the apostolate to spread, it soon became apparent that it needed to be put on a permanent basis and also needed official approbation beyond what it had already received from the local church and civil officials. Despite the often vituperative opposi-tion already encountered (especially from certain members of the Society of Jesus and the English secular clergy, who saw in her work a challenge to their authority), Mary set out with some con-fidence to win formal approval for her institute from three suc-cessive popes: Paul v, Gregory xv, and Urban VIII. Despite ill health, poverty, dangers, and cold, she made three trips on foot over the Alps to Rome to plead her cause in person before the committee appointed to examine her Formula instituti (virtually identical with that approved for the Jesuits).~2 But, though she explained at some length her primary purpose ("striving for the defense and propagation of the faith and progress of souls in Christian life and doctrine"), the means (a new kind of women's order without walls or distinctive clothing, engaged in education and other works congruous with the times), and the instruments (women, distinguished by their well-ordered interior disposition and the virtues of freedom, justice, and verity that characterize the "estate of justice"), these were considered dangerously novel ideas Mary gave high priority to the teaching and supervision of educators. ~7~nly-Aug~st 1998 Norman ¯ Two 17tb-Century Women of Wisdom bordering on heresy with which the good but somewhat obtuse legalists of the time felt unable tO cope except by denial.~3 The foundress was imprisoned by order of the Inquisition, and the institute's way of life was declared contrary to the nature of women and a danger to morals.~4 The savagely worded bull of suppression of 1631 destroyed her first institute, and its members' vows were declared null and void. They were offered the alternatives of marriage, joining some other established order, or living as individual laywomen under private vows. When Mary pointed out the state of these young women, homeless, penniless, and in times of persecution unable to return to their own country, the pope offered them a house in Rome and, under his personal protection, allowed them to resume teaching in Rome, Naples, Munich, and even London and York.~s Mary herself, exonerated of all heresy, was allowed to return to her native country, where, in the midst of the Civil War, she spent the last six years of her life. She and her com-panions remained true to the institute and loyal in obedience to the church, and they continued to be highly commended by those for whom they worked.16 After her death at just over sixty, her tombstone in the Anglican churchyard at Osbaldwick bore this touching tribute: "To love the poore, persevere in the same, live, die, and,rise again with them, was all the aim of Mary Ward.''~7 How is the wisdom revealed by God to individuals to be rec-ognized when, as happened in the case of the Old Testament prophets and Mary Ward, it runs counter to legitimate authority by anticipating the future? Diversity, according to R.B.Y. Scott in his comprehensive study of biblical wisdom, has always attended this concept's evolution and its exemplars, the prophets, as well.~8 Inevitably, however, there is conflict when the fulfillment of the vision comes up against more limited goals and values and older ways of achieving them. Such was the case in the 17th century when it became increas-ingly apparent that the well-worn structures and familiar modes of acting were insufficient to meet the sudden and unexpected challenges in the church and in the world around it. Many were unable or unwilling to accept the fact that new kinds of service were needed to meet these new challenges. In particular, the attempt of the Council of Trent to turn the clock backward, in the case of women, by insisting on enclosure, distinctive clothing, and subjection to male authority severely hampered efforts to Review for Religious envision new forms of discipleship that would free women for more effective service of the church. Instead, they were con-demned as "pernicious growths" needing to be eradicated. Their apostolate, however, continued to grow fruitfully and to encour-age imitators. When official recognition finally came at the begin-ning of the 20th century, Mary Ward's institute had spread round the world to six continents. That Mary Ward was truly a "woman of wisdom," discerning, from her intimacy with God in prayer, the practical needs of her time and place and addressing herself to meet them with pru-dence and courage, was belatedly affirmed in Vatican II's docu-ment on the appropriate renewal of religious life, Pe~fectae caritatis, which reads in part: All those who are called by God to practice the evangelical counsels., devote themse!ves in a special way to the Lord. ¯ . . The religious life is intended above all else to lead . . . to union with God. [but] the manner of living, praying, and working should be suitably adapted to the physical and psychological conditions of today's religious and also . . . to the needs of the apostolate, the requirements of a given culture, the social and economic circumstances anywhere, but especially in missionary territories." (§§ 1-3 passim) Marguerite Bourgeoys Marguerite Bourgeoys was born at Troyes in the province of Champagne in 1620, her youth overlapping the latter years of Mary Ward. At an early age she had a similar experience of God's intervention in her life and felt God's gradual imparting of the gift of wisdom. In 1626, to meet the critical need in that war-torn province for religious instruction and care ofthe needy, a saintly priest, Peter Fourier, organized four hundred volunteer laywomen to go out in pairs among the poor. Attached as externs to the cloistered Congregation de Notre Dame de Troyes, they lived lives of prayer as far as their other duties permitted. Under the supervision of Mme. Louise de Chomedey, a sister of Paul de Chomedey, Sieur de Maisonneuve, the founder and governor of Montreal, Marguerite became one of three prefects in charge of the group. When her desire for the life of a consecrated religious seemed doomed to frustration (both the Carmelites and another cloistered congregation having rejected her application), she pru-dently sought an experienced guide, M. Gendret, chaplain of the J~dy-August 1998 Norman ¯ Two 17tb-Century Women of Wisdom Carmelites. He advised her, while awaiting further light on God's will for her, to consecrate her life by private vows of poverty and chastity.~9 In the spirit of the much-needed religious renewal initiated in the early 17th century by st. Vincent de Paul, M. Gendret had for some time envisaged a form of consecrated life for women adapted to the needs of the time, with a mobility that existing rules of enclosure did not allow. In Marguerite Bourgeoys he now recognized the spiritual and intellectual qualities that would be necessary to lead such an undertaking. A further providential intervention in her life came with her meeting Sieur de Maisonneuve in the home of his sister Mme. de Chevilly. He was visiting France to gather a hundred recruits to work in Montreal. Explaining the need for one teacher to supply the need of reli-gious instruction for his "foolish adventure," he invited Marguerite's help. Realizing partly what it might involve for her as the only woman among male recruits, Marguerite, after prayer and after consulting her spiritual director and the vicar general of the diocese (who gave the plan their blessing), perceived it to be God's will that she should go. Arriving at Quebec on 22 September 1653 and at Ville Marie (Montreal) on 16 November, she began at once a thorough assess-ment of the needs of her new mission, the (pitifully inadequate) resources to meet them, and the obstacles to be faced (such as inclement weather and threats from hostile Indians). Some notion of the risks may be gathered from the warning sent by the French-born mystic Marie of the Incarnation, of the cloistered Ursulines, who had been teaching both native and French children in Quebec since 1639. Writing to the sisters back in Troyes, she said: "If you knew what Montreal actually is like, you would be very careful about sending religious there . . . because of the harsh conditions of the country.''2° Marguerite and her compan-ions not only endured the cold, hunger, and dangers, but also shared their scanty living quarters with the poor, even giving up their own mattresses and blankets. In early-17th-century France, the notion of women religious engaging in apostolic work was only beginning to emerge. To meet the pressing needs of the spiritually illiterate general pop-ulation and the inadequately trained clergy, St. Francis de Sales and St. Vincent de Paul had enlisted generous, skilled women to serve in education, health care, and social work. At the price of Review for Reh~ious their obtaining ecclesiastical recognition, they had had to com-promise: the Visitandines accepting the restrictions of enclo-sure (and thereby qualifying as a religious order) and the Daughters of Charity becoming a society of apostolic life, a group of pious laywomen living in common under simple vows renewed annually. It was immediately evident to the prophetic insight of Marguerite Bourgeoys that neither alternative was desirable or suitable to meet the needs and living conditions of Montreal. Apart from teaching language skills and religion free of charge to both boys and girls of the French set-tlers and military people, there were native children to be edu-cated; adults to be instructed, counseled, prepared for the sacra-ments; and health needs cared for--along with the constant threat from hostile Indian raiders and rival English colonists to the south. The sisters supported themselves by doing laundry, sewing, and mending for families after the day's teaching in school.21 Declaring their readiness to undertake just about anything required to meet the social needs of frontier life, Marguerite and her companions (their number augmented by recruitment on subsequent trips back to France) determined with prudence and divine guidance to take steps to ensure the permanence of their work. The first step, dictated by Marguerite's solid bourgeois back-ground, was to obtain from the king a civil charter permanently entitling them to their place of residence, the abandoned stone stable given them by the governor to serve as their school and as the teachers' living quarters.22 Next they applied to and eventu-ally obtained from Bishop Laval ecclesiastical approval "to teach anywhere in his diocese." In both of these ventures, they received ample support from the laity, whose openhearted response to Marguerite Bourgeoys and her companions' concern for their family life and educational needs was generous and continuous. Evidence of this trust is seen in the young bride on the morn-ing after her wedding coming to weep on Marguerite's shoulder upon finding what was expected of her in marriage, and also in the The sisters supported themselves by doing laundry, sewing, and mending for families after the day's teaching in school. ~dy-Augwst 1998 Norman * Two 17th-Century Women of Wisdom adoption of a nine-month-old native baby who had been aban-doned by her mother and whom Marguerite cared for till she died at the age of six.23 In their practical attention to every aspect of the life of the church in Montreal, the tiny Congregation de Notre Dame, as they came to be called, was ready to meet needs as they presented themselves: premarriage counseling, witnessing of marriages, vocational training, adult education, home eco-nomics, visiting the sick, and preparing the dead for burial. Though they were intent upon living as religious so far as spirit, purpose, and prayer were concerned, it became increas-ingly apparent that their manner of observing common life and serving as disciples would have to be adapted to frontier condi-tions and to "the strengths and talents of each" rather than to preconceived ecclesial rules of enclosure. "If it is the will of God that I go to Montreal," Marguerite had said in response to Maisonneuve's invitation, "I shall want for nothing.''24 Marguerite's wisdom continued to be manifested in her response to divine guidance and providential care in each new enterprise. Her trust in God's will was, however, severely tested on more than one occasion as the years went on. Though provi-sionally approved by Bishop Laval in May 1669, their lifestyle received his official written approval only as "a community in the state of secular women, that is, not bound by enclosure."~s Their Rule, inspired by M. Gendret, which they had been liv-ing, had still to receive formal approval by the church, and for this Bishop Laval, because of the enclosure problem, was unwilling to apply. As Marguerite's biographer wryly ?emarks, the bishop had difficulty distinguishing between the will of God and that of Francois de Montmorency Laval.26 When, upon her return from France with six new recruits, Marguerite was greeted with the news that her community had disintegrated, she replied with calm confidence in God: "He who brings about its fall can very well raise it up again whenever he pleases.''27 When further contro-versy arose over the admission of new members (born in Canada, not France, and two of them aborigines), she felt no longer trusted and offered to resign. The result was an overwhelming reaffir-mation by the entire community of her leadership and special charism.2s Another aspect of Marguerite Bourgeoys's wisdom is reflected in her response to Laval's criticisms of her choice of new candi-dates and her recourse to experienced persons other than himself Review for Religious regarding the community's Rule. Though submitting with humil-ity, she prudently continued to consult the Sulpician directors of the Grande S~minaire, who fully endorsed her wise decision--a visionary missionary thrust far ahead of her time--not to impose a strange civilization on native converts. Her two guideposts, to imitate our Lady and live in the presence of God, fitted admirably into the concept of discipleship she bequeathed to her sisters as that of following la vie voyagOre of the Blessed Virgin. From M. Gendret's explanations long ago, she recalled the distinctions between the three states in which women could follow Christ and serve the church in these words: that of St. Mary Magdalen. observed by the Carmelites and other recluses and that of St. Martha by the cloistered religious who serve their neighbor; but that the outgoing life of the Blessed Virgin was not honored as it should be, and ¯. even without veil and wimple she could be a true reli-giousfl9 The term vie voyagOre (the equivalent of the modern English phrase "to be a pilgrim") seemed to imply, as Marguerite used it, a certain flexibility and adaptability in the service of others and going out into the world wherever there was need. If the first mark of the truly wise person is charity that reflects her close union with God, then it is especially in time of trial that it can best be judged. Such testing was Marguerite's. First came the disastrous fire of 6-7 December 1683, after which the community was reduced to literal destitution. But, when Bishop Laval seized the occasion to urge them to merge with the clois-tered Ursulines, Marguerite firmly defended the identity of her "journeying sisters," modeled on our Lady, Christ's first disci-ple. 3° When an impasse over business matters occurred, she sim-ply turned the whole matter over in prayer to her patroness with the words "Blessed Virgin, I can do no more.''3~ Again, when a visionary in her own community denounced her publicly as in "a state of damnation" and proposed founding a new institute with herself as head, Marguerite, although ready to acknowledge the possibility of having lost God's friendship, persisted in abandoning herself to his divine justice and charity. Her resignation and her replacement as chief superior by the first Montreal-born member, Marie Barbier, reflected both her humil-ity and her openness of spirit.32 At the same time, in trusting Canadian-born candidates and leadership instead of continuing to July-August 1998 Norman ¯ Two 17tb-Century Women of Wisdom depend on reinforcements from France, she was wisely investing in the permanence of her community in New France. The final ecclesiastical approval of the Rule was again to be made contingent on accepting enclosure, vowing obedience to the bishop, and requiring dowries. Though remaining obedient to the new bishop, Jean Baptiste de Saint-Vallier, Marguerite firmly and prudendy defended her original vision of the congre-gation's members as "daughters of the parish" and of the Blessed Virgin herself as their only superior.33 For the sake of survival, she had for the moment to submit to the bishop, and on 24 June 1698 the sisters finally accepted the approved Rules and next day solemnly pronounced their vows. But before her death (12 January 1700) she took care to record in her spiritual autobiography her original divinely inspired intuitions, 'with shrewd observations based on her lived experience and her hopes and fears for the continued existence of her congregation. Like the Ursulines and many other women's congregations of the Counter-Reformation peribd, this uncloistered community of Montreal agreed to modifications in their original Rule on condition that its underlying principles and, above all, their "out-going life" were not sacrificed. Their charism was summed up in the words of the foundress herself: When he ascended into heaven, our Lord left on earth a type of congregation of women which included all the states. Mary was its first superior . The Blessed Virgin, who was a teacher, included all the other things in her own per-son in an eminent degree. She was mother and teacher to the newborn church, which she formed and instructed in all kinds of good, by her words and by her example. Instruction and edification were her principal characteris-tics., particularly to teach in a way that was all the more profitable for everyone [and] within the reach of all.34 Models for Today What did these 17th-century women of wisdom have in com-mon, and of what relevance are their lives to ours on the eve of the 21st century? For answers we need to look at the very human and very universal situation underlying their lives. Each might be described (in terms applied to Joan of Arc by Joan Chittister, an eloquent defender of Christian feminism) as "a model of con-science development, a monument to the feminine relationship to Review for Religious God, and a breaker of the stereotypes that block the will of God."35 In every age, authority figures (usually male) have busied themselves with telling people what they should do, usually cloak-ing their goals in moral terms. Suddenly appears someone-- indeed, a woman!--who has a mission, someone who is bold enough to claim that God has revealed plans to her that may seem outrageous, someone who confronts them with a question greater than they are able or willing to handle and who is pre-pared to fight and even die for it if necessary so that truth may prevail and others may benefit. Mary Ward and Marguerite Bourgeoys were such women, role models for all who have heard the voice of God calling them to transcend the limitations of the present and enable freedom, justice, and sincerity (verity) to triumph everywhere and for all time. Notes a Mary Ward's Retreat Notes, 1619, unpublished collection. 2 Cited by Catherine Elizabeth Chambers, Life of Mary Ward, 2 vols. (London, 1882 and 1885), vol. 1, p. 227. 3 Letter to Roger Lee SJ, 1 November 1615, cited by Chambers, vol. 1, pp. 346-347. 4 Cited by Chambers, vol. 1, pp. 407-408. 5 Chambers, vol. 1, p. 407 and 217-224. 6 Letter of Bishop Blaise, cited by Chambers, vol. 1, pp. 319-320. 7 Chambers, vol. 2, p. 531. s Chambers, vol. 2, p. 249. 9Winkler MS, p. 20. ~°Cited by Chambers, vol. 1, p. 468. ~a Chambers vol. 2, p. 27. Chambers vol. Chambers vol. Chambers vol. Chambers vol. Chambers vol. 2, p. 387. 2, pp. 289-290. 2, p. 325. 2, p. 325. 2, p. 331. a7 Chambers vol. 2, p. 504. as R.B.Y. Scott, Relevance of the Prophets, rev. ed. (Toronto: Collier Macmillan, 1969), p. 13. 19 Patricia Simpson, Marguerite Bourgeoys and Montreal, 1640-166~ (Montreal: McGil!-Queen'~ University Press, 1997), p. 46. ~3~nly~Aug~tst 1998 Norman * Two 17tb-Century Women of l~tsdom 20 Cited by Simone Pgissant CND, Marguer~e Bourgeoys, trans. Frances Kirwan (Montreal: Les Editions Bellarmin, 1982), p. 34. 2~ Simpson, p. 160. z2 Simpson, pp. 117-118, 164-165. 23 Simpson, pp. 109, 126. 24 Poissant, pp. 23-24. 2s Poissant, p. 35. 26 Simpson, p. 175. 27 Poissant, p. 36 . 28 Poissant, p. 43. 29 Letter of Marguerite Bourgeoys to Louis Tronson, September 1693, "Ecrits de M~re Bourgeoys," p. 20, quoted by Elizabeth Rapley, The Dgvotes (McGill: Queen's Press, 1990), p. 101. 30 Poissant, p. 51. 3~ Poissant, p. 52. 32Poissant, pp. 53-55. 33 Poissant, p. 57. 34 Poissant, pp. 49-50. 3s Joan Chittister, A Passion for Life (New York: Orbis Books, 1996), pp. 127-129. Review for Religious MARY ROGER MADDEN A Path Traced Out: Providence in Mother Theodore Guerin's Life M~ther Theodore Guerin founded the Sisters of rovidence at Saint Mary-of-the-Woods, Indiana, on 22 October 1840 and left her mark not only: on an extensive reli-gious congregation, but also--through the schools she established and the philosophy of education she fostered--on tens of thou-sands of lay men and women. Born 2 October 1798 in the village of Etables-sur-Mer, in the diocese of Saint-Brieuc, Anne-Th4r~se Gu4rin was the daugh-ter of Laurent Gu~rin, a naval officer in the service of Napoleon, and Isabelle Lefevre Gu~rin. She had two younger brothers, both of whom died in early childhood, and one younger sister, Marie Jeanne. Her mother taught her to read and write and instructed her in the basics of religion. When she was nine years of age, she attended a small school run by a pious laywoman of Etables. Anne- TMr~se learned quickly and was bored by the basic nature of the instruction. She would often slip away to the seashore, hiding herself among the rocks and cliffs. There, contemplating the vast-ness of the sea, she early learned to pray. A distant relative, a young seminarian forced to postpone his education because of the religious upheaval following the Revolution, came to live with the Gu~rin family. He served as Anne-TMr~se's tutor, calling her his "little theologian." Perhaps because of this advanced religious instruction, she was able to receive her first Holy Communion at the early age of Mary Roger Madden SP writes from Christina Hall; Saint Mary-of-the- Woods, Indiana 47876. 3~:uly-August 1998 Madden ¯ A Path Traced Out ten. At that time she confided to her confessor that she wished to devote her life to God. The kindly priest told her to pray and to be a good, obedient child and wait for God to open the way for her. The even tenor of the Gu~rin family life was disrupted when Laurent Gu~rin, on his way home to rejoin his family after being demobilized, was attacked by brigands, robbed, and killed. Isabelle, who had already suffered the loss of her father and one brother at sea and of her two infant sons by fire, was traumatized by this latest tragedy. She went into a complete physical and mental decline, leaving Anne-Th~r~se, then sixteen years of age, as the main support of the family. Anne-Th~r~se cared for her younger sister and nursed her mother back to health while supporting the little family with her sewing. She never abandoned her desire to devote her life to God. In 1823, when the younger sister had reached an age when she could be expected to take Anne-Th~r~se's place, Isabelle Gu~rin gave reluctant permission for her elder daughter to enter the Sisters of Providence of Ruill~-sur-Loir. This congregation, dedicated to the education of youth and the care of the sick. poor in their homes, had been founded in 1806 by Jacques-FranFois Dujari~, founder also of the Brothers of Saint Joseph, known today as the Brothers of the Holy Cross. A small and relatively obscure congregation, the Sisters of Providence were struggling to establish themselves in a country still reeling from the aftershocks of the Revolution. Anne-Th~r~se, who was given the name Sister Saint- Theodore, soon became a valued member of the family of Providence. Her novitiate had to be prolonged because she con-tracted typhoid fever as a postulant. When she appeared to be on the verge of death, the physician, frantic to save her, adminis-tered such severe remedies as to leave her with impaired health. Never again was she able to digest solid food. Because of her illness, her reception of the habit had been postponed until 5 September 1826; three days later she was per-mitted to take her first vows. She was sent at once to administer one of the most challenging of their missions in the city of Rennes. In 1828 the sisters elected her a member of the first general coun-cil to Mother Mary Lecor, the superior general, During the years at Rennes and later at Soulaines, her exper-tise as an administrator and a teacher was recognized by the Academy of Angers (Universit~ de France), which awarded her Review for Religious an honorary medallion in recognition of her excellence as an educator. In the summer of 1839, the sisters were gathered at the moth-erhouse for their annual retreat when they received a distinguished visitor. Celestine de la Hailandi~re, bishop of Vincennes in Indiana, came requesting sisters to teach the children of the pio-neers in his diocese. The superiors asked for volunteers from among the mem-bership. Although many sisters volunteered, Mother Mary found no one among them with the qualities nec-essary for the leader of such an expedition. She favored Sister Saint-Theodore, who, fearing that her chronic poor health would hinder the work of the mission, had not volunteered. On being told that the supe-riors would accept the mission only if she would lead it, she agreed to go to Indiana. After a turbulent journey of three months by sailing vessel, river boat, canal boat, and stagecoach, the sisters arrived on 22 October 1840 in a dense forest of Indiana. Located five miles from the fron-tier river town of Terre Haute, the little settlement had been named Saint Mary-of- the-Woods by Simon Brut4~ first bishop of Vincennes. Oral tradition has it that he remarked at the time to one of his com-panions, "You will see what great things will be done here." Arriving that dark, damp October evening, Sister Saint- Theodore and her five companions proceeded at once to the small log cabin that was both the dwelling place of the missionary priest and the temporary church. A partially completed building was intended by the bishop as a convent, but no school had yet been started. Waiting for them at the farmhouse belonging to the Joseph Thralls family were four young women who had come to join them. ~.~ The Thralls family turned over to the ten women one of the two rooms which constituted their home, along with half the loft. There they spent the first winter learning English, preparing classes for the opening of the school, and instructing the new members in the principles of the religious life. In November, Mother Theodore, as she was now known, with Sister Saint-Theodore, fearing that her chronic poor health would hinder the work of the mission, had not volunteered. Madden ¯ A Path Traced Out the help of the bishop and some of the money obtained from friends in France, was able to purchase the Thralls farmhouse for a Convent. She found the building planned for them by the bishop "too grand" for a convent and decided instead to open there a boarding school and academy to be called Saint Mary's Female Institute. In July 1841 classes began with five students, three of whom were not Catholic. Indiana's. educational system was in its infancy in the 1840s. Good education, especially for girls, was at a premium. Mother Theodore set about filling this need by establishing free schools side by side. with the popular female academies which were open to Catholic and non-Catholic alike. Despite her wretched health, she visited the schools regu-larly, traveling in the uncomfortable conditions of the day, in order to encourage and support the sisters. Their educational endeavors were conducted in the primitive one- or two-room buildings that often served as both school and convent. In order to compensate for the harshness of their living conditions, she brought them every summer to Saint Mary-of-the-Woods for rest, relaxation, study, and spiritual retreat. In the midst of her exhausting labors, Mother Theodore. suf-fered from constant humiliations and misunderstanding from her superiors both in France and in North America. At Ruill~ the superiors, who were never able to visit the mission in Indiana, had no concept of what the sisters suffered from the intemperate cli-mate, the bigoted populace, and the poor living conditions. Mother Theodore's frequent letters, though strictly factual, were dis-counted as "romances." It would be years before the superiors rec-ognized all that she had suffered. She, on the other hand, never faltered in her love and devotion to the French congregation and its superiors. In the United States, Hailandi~re was provoked by her resis-tance to his interference with the internal government of the con-gregation. He had told Mother Mary that he wanted the sisters in order that they might establish in his diocese the French reli-gious spirit. He praised their constitutions when he read them in France, but, when Mother Theodore attempted to put them into practice, he seemed to have forgotten his former approval. He wished to ,be the one to decide on the acceptance of postulants and the profession of novices; to move the sisters from mission to mission; to open and close missions (without consulting the sis- Review for Religious ters); and, in general, to act as the major superior of the congre-gation. Most disturbing to Mother Theodore was his desire to conduct all visitations of the missions, confining Mother Theodore to Saint Mary-of-the-Woods. His efforts to remove her from office by holding elections, even in her absence, failed; for the sisters simply united in unan-imously reelecting Mother Theodore. The climax came when, frustrated by her gentle but firm resistance, he went so far as to expel her from the diocese, threatening with excommunication any sister who harbored her or attempted to follow her.- This unjust treatment she bore with remarkable patience. In 1847, at the very hour when she was being expelled, an announcement from Rome arrived, accepting Hailandi~re's resigna-tion as bishop of Vincennes and appoint-ing Bishop Jean Bazin as his replacement. Bazin exonerated her and restored her to her congregatiom Mother Theodore's greatest legacy was the example of her love of God and neighbor, a dynamic self-giving that never flagged or slackened, from her girlhood on Brittany's shores to her death in the midst of the Indiana forest. Only a year before that death, she would write to Sister Saint-Athanase, one of the French sisters who had been a companion of hers in the novi-tiate: "How fortunate we are to have given the days of our youth to that God of love who gives us so much affection, and even more when we are old, infirm, and crippled than when we were young and robust." All her other virtues flowed from this ,one deeply held con-viction-- that God's love for her was unconditional. Her humility makes sense in light of her understanding of the mystery of the incarnation, by which the Second Person of the Trinity, for love of us, came to share our lowly estate. Her confidence in the provi-dence of God was nourished by that love. For her part, she saw the cross that marked her life for over fifty years as the mystic sign by which she rejoiced to return some part of that infinite love. In her concern for the p~oor and the ignorant, in her devo-tion to all her sisters, we see the authentic expression of love of neighbor. The love of God which welled up in her spilled over All her other virtues flowed from this one deeply held conviction-- that God's love for her was unconditional. 1998 Madden ¯ A Path Traced Out into the lives of everyone she met. She quickly forgave frailties of human nature that caused her suffering and endeavored to avoid inflicting similar sufferings on others. The last nine years of her life proceeded in relative peace and prosperity. By 1854 the congregation had grown to almost one hundred sisters, who were instructing over one thousand chil-dren in parish schools, academies, and orphanages in Jasper, Vincennes, Madison, Terre Haute, Fort Wayne, Columbus, and Evansville. At the motherhouse she built a four-story brick con-vent to replace the farmhouse in which they had lived since 1840. The heritage of devotion to the education of women contin-ues to be cherished by the Sisters of Providence down to the pres-ent day, when Saint Mary-of-the-Woods College, the oldest Catholic liberal arts college for women in the United States, stands on the site of that first small academy. Physically debilitated by her trials and the hardships of a pio-neer life, Mother Theodore died on 14 May 1856. Reports of her holiness of life spread both during her life and after her death. In December 1908 Francis Silas Chatard, bishop of Indianapolis, instituted proceedings for her canonization. On 11 July 1992 Pope John Paul II, in the name of the church, proclaimed the heroic virtue exhibited by the Servant of God, according her the title Venerable. On 7 July 1997 he formally accepted the first-class miracle needed for the process of beatification to go for-ward. The date of her arrival at Saint Mary-of-the-Woods, 22 October, will be celebrated as the feast of Blessed Mother Theodore Guerin, who said of her own life: "This is the path traced out by the providence of God. I follow it." According to Jean-Baptiste Caussade, "The life of each saint is the life of Jesus Christ. It is a new gospel." As we study the gospel God has written in the life of this valiant woman, we are confirmed in our confidence in the mysterious ways of God, which continue to instruct and enlighten us. Bibliography Belsen, Sister Anita Cotter, SP. Soitvenir of the Fiftieth Anniversary or Golden Jubilee of Saint Mary's Academic Institute. New York: Benziger Brothers, 1891. Brown, Sister Mary Borromeo, SP. History of the Sisters of Providence, Vol. I. New York: Benziger Brothers, 1949. Burton, Katherine. Faith Is the Substance. New York: Herder, 1959. Review for Religious Gonner, Sister Laurence, SP. "A History of the First Fifty Years of the Sisters of Providence in America." Master's thesis, Loyola University, Chicago, 1933. Guerin, Mother Theodore. Journals and Letters of Mother Theodore Gudrin. ed. S. Mary Theodosi

Issue 61.6 of the Review for Religious, 2002. ; DECEMBER 2002 VO~,UME 61 'NUMBER 6~ Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bimonthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP Mount St. Mary's Seminary; Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2002 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. view for religious LIVING OUR CATHOLIC LEGACIES Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer sJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp James and Joan Felling Adrian Gaudin SC Sr. Raymond Marie Gerard FSP Eugene Hensell OSB Ernest E. Larkin OCarm Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ NOVEMBER DECEMBER 2002 VOLUME 61 NUMBER 6 contents 566 579 ignatian spirituality Ignatian Invitation: Remember and Imagine David L. Fleming SJ sums up the contemporary relevance of Ignatian spirituality in the dynamic movements of remembering and imagining. Ignatian Indifference and Structural Constraints Ignatius Jesudasan SJ enters us into the contemporary struggle to apply indifference as understood in spirituality to the various structural situations of authority and obedience. 585 594 ministry formation The Emergence of the Contemporary Traditionalists David M. Whalen OSFS presents certain "verbal snapshots" of young people identified as contemporary traditionalists whose interim theology includes an exemption or "notwithstanding" clause. A Collaborative Model of Missionary Formation Guy B. Wilson ST explains a model of formation for the men candidates of the Missionary Servants of the Most Holy Trinity, which involves the collaboration of the Trinitarian family of men and women religious and lay persons, following the inspiration of their founder, Father Thomas Augustine Judge. 602 sisters and brothers Mary Magdalene: An Icon for Women Religious Mary Kay Dobrovolny RSM, by using the resurrection story found in John 20:11 o 18, presents Mary Magdalene as an icon for celibate loving and apostolic mission for women religious. Review for Religious 615 Lonely and Small: Religious Brothers' Situation Philip Armstrong CSC makes a case for religious life, the vowed commitment to a life of service to the church and to the world through the public profession of the evangelical counsels, to be raised to the status of a sacrament in the Roman Catholic Church. 624 God and us The Birth of Christ in the Human Person Janet Sullivan OSF brings home the faith reality that God asks of us what he asked of Mary: to allow his Son to come to birth in us. 631 Reading/Reciting the Psalms: Some Reflections Roland E. Murphy OCarm offers, from his lifetime of study and prayer, a bright sprinkling of information and intuition about the psalms. 64O Eucharistic Faith: Jesus' Bread-.of-Life Discourse Dennis J. Billy CSSR reflects upon Jesus' Discourse on the Bread of Life On 6:22-71) to emphasize the call to faith which every Eucharist celebrates~ departments 564 Prisms 649 Canonical Counsel: 656 Book Reviews 666 Indexes Mandatory Dismissal November-Decentber 2002 prisms After sixty-one years of publish-ing on a bimonthly schedule Review for Religious begins a quarterly schedule of publication beginning in the year 2003. As our readers may well surmise, rising costs of publishing and mailing have played a signifi-cant role in leading to this decision. As editor, I have explored, with the help of my Board members and staff, various options. We could raise the subsdription price and still be competitively equal to other jo.urnals ~nd magazines. But since women and men religious with their religious vow of poverty make up the larger part of our readership, I want to keep the cost as low as possible. Perhaps even more importantly, fi large number of foreign sub-scribers, especially in India and in the countries of Africa, would find any increase in price unbearable in terms of currency exchange rates. We thought of reducing the size of the journal from 112 pages to 64 or 72 pages, a common pagina-tion for journals of our kind. A cheaper production and a lighter weight for mailing would save some expense, while at the same time allowing us to main-tain a bimonthy schedule. After serious discussion among Board members and staff, we decided that the continuity of appearance and quality of material should not be sacrificed for the sake of economy. As we considered the quarterly schedule, the Board encouraged us as an editorial staff to try to Review for Religious engage our readers in a more interactive way with follow-up questions or reflection/prayer helps and, perhaps, with some sort of readers' forum or letters-to-the-editor column. As we reduce the number of regular issues of Review for Religious from six to four times a year, we intend to provide a 32-page supplement issue for the seasons of Lent and Advent which will allow us to experiment. These supplements will be included in the regular subscription price that remains the same as it has been. Since we are an international journal, we will not try to des-ignate our quarterly issues by seasons since they vary with our readers' northern or southern climates. Instead we will identify the volume number and then each issue as "Quarterly" num-bered from one to four in every year. The two supplements will be identified by the church seasons of Lent and Advent. We are grateful to you, our subscribers and readers, for your loyal support. We intend that you will find the same con-sistent high-quality articles in every issue. We also will be look-ing forward to your response to our interactive supplements, whether for possible publication or not. In fact, we welcome comments from our readers even now. We are always seeking to increase our readership and so we continue to encourage you to give a gift subscription or sug-gest that a friend or colleague subscribe. If you or your com-munity could provide a gift subscription for those financially limited communities or individuals, usually in countries other than the United States, your charity would be much appreci-ated. Either designate the gift-recipient or allow us to fund the many requests that we receiveand do not have the resources with which to respond. You then extend your own mission in wonderful ways through the mission of Review for Religious. The editors and staff of Review for Religious wish you the richest blessings of the Advent and Christmas seasons. David L. Fleming SJ November-December 2002 DAVID L. FLEMING Ignatian Invitation: Remember and Imagine ignatian spirituality Pope John Paul II issued a call to all Christians as we entered this new millennium. It is a call that he has repeated i~a many talks since he wrote his challenging letter about the new millennium back in January 2001. The Latin phrase Duc in altum expresses his challenge succinctly. We translate it as "Put out into the deep." It is, of course, Jesus' command to Peter and Andrew, James and John, and their fishing companions after they have just spent a fruitless night at their fishing occupation. As we faced a new millennium, with its unfulfilled promise and its potential disasters, John Paul said that as Christians, full of faith, we should lead the way: Duc in altum, put out into the deep. Little did we think that in the year 2001 we would experience, especially in the United States, a "deep" defined by the effect of the September 11 terrorist attack on a whole way of living. Little did we think that in 2002 we would have our economy shaken by major company fraud, abetted by accounting firms that paradoxically were not accountable. Little did we think that we would find David L. Fleming SJ, editor of this journai, presented this material as a talk at the Ignatian Spirituality Conference in St. Louis, Missouri, in July 2002. Review for Religious ourselves in a church under scrutiny for its own internal terror by a few of its priests, but a few too many, and by the lack of accountability in some of its own hierarchical leaders. Duc in altum. Yes, we feel that we are somewhere out in the deep. What are the resources that we Christians now draw on? What are the strengths of the spirituality that we try to live? I would like to share with you the strengths that I experience in Ignatian spirituality. Back in the last century--in the 1940s and '50s--part of growing up in St. Louis in the summer months was a day-long trip on the Mississippi River on the excursion boat called the Admiral. The boat left at ten o'clock in the morning from the downtown riverfront (the area where now the Arch stands), usually went south down the river just beyond the Jesuit White House Retreat, which sits on the bluffs overlooking the river, some fifteen or twenty miles down river. The boat would then circle around and buck the river currents, chugging slowly back up the river and mooring at about four o'clock in the afternoon. Being a five-deck boat, it offered a lot of room for people to meander, between air-conditioned decks and open-air decks, between a ballroom dance-floor deck and a deck for games, between restaurant areas and "bring-your-own-picnic" areas. What always made a big impression upon me were the two massive pistons, the major attraction of a noisy and hot first-deck area. These two massive arms kneading up and down were our visible representation of what moved the boat forward. To make a turn, one arm obviously would do most of the work. But the two working in unison pushed this big boat securely against the strongest of river currents. I experience Ignatian spirituality much as I experienced the Admiral excursion boat. Ignatian spirituality is something in movement. Ignatian spirituality has a lot of room within it--a lot of different decks, as it were, where we live out an Ignatian spirituality in a variety of contexts. But what intrigues me the most are the two massive pistons that allow for the movement or dynamism of Iguatian spirituality. The words with which I will identify these two pistons will surprise no one. Those of us familiar with Ignatian spirituality talk about them with ease. But what I hope to share with you is the often overlooked importance of each of these arms and, perhaps even more so, the necessity of November-December 2002 Fleming ¯ Ignatian lnvitation their working in unison if we, seeking our life's direction within an Ignatian spirituality, are to continue to move forward even amid strong and deep currents. I will use the word remembering for one arm of movement and imagining for the other. Remembering I deliberately have chosen these active verbal terms remembering and imagining rather than the more stolid noun-forms mentor)/and imagination. Ignatius is a man-in-motion, and he relates to God, to his fellow men and women, and to his world in a dynamic fashion. In his mystical intuition at the river Cardoner in Manresa, he sees God as a God who labors, an active God, a busy God. He understands that busyness, laboring, working does not take us away from a laboring God, a busy God. And so Ignatius writes with verbs and participles, a motion-oriented, vigorous style, especially in the Spiritual Exercises. We need always to keep reminding ourselves that the Exercises book, by its very title, speaks of movement, of interactivity--the activity within a person (in the retreat first of all, but in daily life as well) and the activity without, that is, all that happens outside us in the world all around us, in the circumstances of the people and things of our everyday life. Ignatian spirituality is an active spirituality, or, rather, an interactive spirituality. Noticing One of the first actions of Ignatius in developing his relationship with God is caught in the word noticing, taking note of, noting. Ignatian spirituality begins to thrive where Ignatius himself began--paying attention to various experiences, noting what is going on. In his Autobiography, Ignatius particularly emphasizes his noting of his own reactions to his daydreams about serving his king or a noble lady and his d~ydreams about doing as St. Dominic or St. Francis did. He notes what is going on inside (within) himself---the effects both short-range and longer lasting. Just as for all of us, Ignatius does not claim that he never had these kinds of experiences previously. It is just that now he notes or notices them. He also takes note of what is going on around Review for Religious him (the without). He is very observant of his world, the people in it, their various customs. Perhaps out of his piety and certainly out of his courtly training, he adopts an attitude of reverence to God, to God's people, and to God's world. Noting or noticing is all part of our attitude of reverence as we live in God's world, our home. Noting or noticing is a first and essential part of remembering, one of the two piston arms of Ignatian spirituality. Examining Another part of remembering in Ignatian spirituality is something that has received much emphasis in our day. The examen or examination of conscience has had a revitalization over the past thirty years that has put it at the forefront of, made it the signature exercise of, Ignatian spirituality. For us in North America, Jesuit George Aschenbrenner's article "Consciousness Examen" in the January-February 1972 issue of Review for Religious marked the beginning of this renaissance. Since then, the writings of John English, Joseph Tetlow, John Veltri, Dennis Hamm, and many others, Jesuits and others, have given new life to and sharp insight into the practice of the daily examen. From the Exercises book we are aware that Ignatius identifies a number of examinations. In fact, because these constitute the first material under the title First Week, we cannot miss the implication that examining is an important ingredient of making the Exercises. Obviously, our process of examining works better as we get more accustomed to noting or noticing as we move through a day. But examining remains its own special exercise, beyond noting, and remains an essential part of the piston arm we call remembering. Recalling the Story A third aspect of remembering is to be found in the Ignatian first preludes from the contemplations of the Second Week on, the preludes that recall the history of an event. "History" for Ignatius does not refer to facts of a past event. His Spanish expression, ~aer la historia (§§102, 191), emphasizes "making present the story." Ignatius does not say "bring to memory" or November-December 2002 Fle~ning ¯ Ignatian Invitation Remembering plays such an important role in Ignatian spirituality that this spirituality is clearly a reflective spirituality. "remember" the relevant ~cts. He says "recall the history bow" (the Spanish como). For Ignatius, facts are not enough. He wants us to enter into the how and why of events. The first and second preludes for a gospel contemplation are interlocked. The second prelude is a composition, sometimes erroneously identified as a "composition of place." Among more recent authors, the Jesuit William A.M. Peters brought the significance of this Ignatian usage to our attention, showing that Ignatius stresses rather the composition of ourselves within the history. We place ourselves by noting how we see the Trinity looking down upon our world; we place ourselves by noting bow the pregnant Mary, Joseph, and a little servant girl wend their way towards Bethlehem. So history and composition are tightly interlocked-- not as preliminary to prayer, but as an integral part of our prayer, which has its various focal points. Just as noting and examining are integral to the Ignatian remembering, so, I believe, the Ignatian "history," this recalling of the story, is an integral part as well. Remembering, then, plays such an important role in Ignatian spirituality that this spirituality is clearly a reflective spirituality. It is reflective in the way that scholars suggest the Hebrew Scriptures were formed--by people noting, recalling, exa.mining, reflecting on the story. Ignatian spirituality is in sync with the providential process whereby people's remembering contributed to the forming of our Scriptures. We have described one arm of Ignatius's dynamic spirituality. It is time to express a qualification, beginning with the word but. But this arm I have just described has, I believe, received overemphasis through the centuries and perhaps also in our own time. This emphasis was so great that often the second arm was practically ignored. I would like to focus now on the second piston arm of Ignatian spirituality, which I will describe by the word imagining. Review for Religious Imagining Over the past thirty years, I think that the battle about whether Ignatian spirituality predominantly makes use of an intel-lectu~ il and meditative form of prayer or a contemplative one has been won. The centuries-long controversy, in fact, may have been not so much about a way of praying as about how important imagination is in Ignatian spirituality. Even now, in the current renewal of Ignatian spirituality, I think that people do not give imagining the pride of place that Ignatian spirituality requires. Jesuits themselves are partly responsible for the lack of emphasis on this second arm of Ignatian spirituality. In most traditions, secular or ecclesial, there seems to be a continuing fear of imagination. After their forty-year suppression, I think that Jesuits in their 1814 refounding took their cue from the church climate and parroted the text of the Exercises and their own Ignatian constitutions just as American Catholics parroted the Baltimore Catechism in the 19th and 20th centuries before Vatican Council II. I believe that many of the retreats Jesuits gave to religious women in their motherhouses and to lay men and women in Jesuit retreat houses suffered from a deficient understanding of the importance of imagination in Ignatian spirituality. St. Ignatius implicitly but clearly calls for imagination when he insists on adapting the Exercises to specific retreatants, but this was often ignored. Even now, in the current renewal of Ignatian spirituality, Jesuits and others often set little store by imagination. You may be getting the picture that I think that imagining is all too scarce in people's understanding and living of Ignatian spirituality today. And, in looking to the future, I think that imagining is altogether essential. Just as I discussed three integral parts of remembering-~- noting, examining, and recalling the story--now I want to discuss three integral parts of imagining in Ignatian spirituality. I begin with contemplating, for this is again where Ignatius has left his mark on Christian spirituality. Contemplating Ignatian contemplation is focused, not on losing oneself in God, but on finding oneself with God. Contemplating is ordinarily understood as "gazing upon" the divine. In this gazing, November-December 2002 Fleming ¯ lgnatian lnvitation We tell stories not just to remember the past, but to learn for the future. the emphasis is not on the relationship between oneself and God, but rather is on being absorbed in God, lost in God, taken up into God. An example of this kind of contemplation is centering prayer. For Ignatius, however, the focus is always on relationship. Because Ignatian contemplation is ordinarily focused on gospel mysteries (that is, gospel events), we as contemplatives may, of course, get absorbed in the gospel story, but we are always consciously in relationship. For Ignatius, contemplating the gospel mysteries is the privileged way to come to know Jesus more clearly so as to love him more dearly and follow him more nearly, as the popular song from Godspell would impress upon us. A number of people today, in our media-saturated climate, claim difficulty with Ignatian contemplation for the very reason that it calls us to use our imagination. Having been spoon-fed by movies, television, and now computers and handheld Palms, we may have had our imaginations dulled. But, regardless of the cause, how do we help ourselves and others to do the imagining that Ignatius calls for? Ignatius was a romantic man, and he made active use of his imagination, as we know from his Autobiography. We ourselves may or may not be romantically inclined, but I think that most of us have told a story or two in our small world of everyday interaction with others. We tell stories about what happened to us or to others at the store, at work, at school, or on the way home. Most of us tell stories frequently. Ignatian contemplation can be understood as "telling a story." Remember what we said about the Ignatian "history": making something present to ourselves, recalling how. Contemplating for us is meant to be as involving as our own telling of a story. We have had the experience of telling the story of being at the bedside of dying Aunt Martha, and in the telling the lump in the throat and the tears come just as if we were once again in the midst of the very event. We have had some ridiculous interchange between a fellow worker and ourselves, and the event is so real that, in the retelling, tears of laughter roll down Review for Religious our own cheeks and down our listeners' cheeks as well. That kind of involvement is Ignatian contemplation. Perhaps we are not very imaginative, and the Ignatian directive of seeing the people, listening to what they say, and then watching their actions may seem very stilted and even cause us to feel frozen in our response. But I repeat that almost everyone can tell a story (and usually does in day-to-day life). And I think that, for Ignatius, contemplating and telling the story are one and the same activity. When we tell a story, we not only provide details; we also communicate meaning. Beyond that, we intimate the story's significance for ourselves and for the future. Telling the story may give us insight into our own behavior, other people's perceptions and moods, and God's ways of acting. We tell stories not just to remember the past, but to learn for the future. Telling stories is our way of imbibing wisdom. Contemplating, telling stories, looks to the future, and is an integral part of imagining. Dreaming A second aspect of imagining for Ignatius is dreaming--not nighttime dreams, but the daydreaming that is a part of youth, no matter the age. When we looked at the importance of noting for Ignatius, we observed that he had daydreams about serving the king of Spain and winning a great lady's hand; and then alternately he dreamed of serving Christ his King with great deeds like the saints of old, such as Dominic and Francis. After his wounding at Pamplona and his conversion, Ignatius never lost his ability to dream. I think we gain insight when we look upon the Call of the King meditation at the beginning of the Second Week as Ignatius's attempt to bring us into Christ's dream. Whether we take the parable king, so winning and inspiring, proposing his dream of conquering his enemies and achieving a victorious peace, or whether we consider the risen Christ calling each of us to let ourselves be caught up into his dream of the kingdom of heaven, God's reign, we are entering into a dream of future happenings. For the human king, such dreams might never be realized; for Christ, the victory of the dream is already realized in his resurrection, as we know by faith. In the Exercises, whether we consider the Three Degrees of Humility (§§165ff) or the situations described in the Second Way November-December 2002 Fleming ¯ Ignatian lnvitation to Make a Good and Sound Election (§§184ff), Ignatius presumes that most of us dream about our futures. He takes a common human experience and uses it for God. Dreaming, which is about a future still unrealized, is a use of imagination. Dreaming is an integral part of imagining in Ignatian spirituality. Visioning Similar to dreaming in Ignatian spirituality, but fixed more in the reality of what is already present, is visioning. Ignatius presents us with three vision exercises. He begins with a vision exercise known as the Principle and Foundation. He closes with an exercise tided "Contemplation on the Love of God," a vision exercise. The third vision exercise is tided the Call of the King (sometimes understood as the Second Principle and Foundation opening the Second Week and the Weeks thereafter). We have already considered it primarily under the idea of Christ presenting his dream to us, but Ignatius is careful to point out that this is more than just a dream, for the victory is assured. It is also a vision. The Principle and Foundation expresses succincdy Ignatius's way of seeing God, himself, his neighbor, and his world--in all their relations--and seeing, too, the choices to be made in living out the truth of the vision. The Contemplation on the Love of God expresses the ways of God's loving that we have reflected on and experienced through the course of the Exercises. In it we pray to be empowered to go forth and love with something of the fullness and breadth of God's loving. For Ignatius, visions present reality to us. Our effort to bring our own way of living into the vision gives us our direction into the future. Visioning, then, lik~ dreaming and contemplating, is an integral part of imagining--all three elements looking towards the future. I believe that the emphasis on imagining inherent in Ignatian spirituality is what allows it to be open, adaptable, and applicable to the future. Imagining is akin to the "blue-skying" that is so much a part of the planning process in organizational psychology. "Blue-skying" breaks us out of our usual restraints just as the image suggests. For Ignatius, imagining allows God to break into our lives because we have given up our own control, our own setting of limits. Imagining allows us to be open and Review for Religious available, to be vulnerable, to let a divine break-in help us to break out. Such imagining, then, as Ignatius discovered, becomes a way of working with God in the direction that God calls us. Recall that it is two piston arms that give Ignatian spirituality its dynamism: remembering and imagining. These terms mean more than a casual "look back" and then a "look forward," and neither one is to be chosen over the other. The genius of Ignatius was to see how only both working together would provide the forward dynamism that is summed up in the often misunderstood phrase "spiritual freedom." Being Free We are free only if we know, acknowledge, and work with our own personal history. But we need something more. We are free only if we are not limited or shackled by our past or present so that we can imagine the fi~ture that we are invited to by God. In Ignatius's experience, human freedom is a gift of God, but only a potential one. Actual freedom requires us to join together our remembering and our imagining. To be more exact, for us people of faith the gift of freedom is realized only in its relationship with the gift of God's grace. Then human freedom is experienced--Ignatius would say, using the Spanish word liberalidad--as generosity. I think, indeed, that liberalidad is better translated self-giving. Liberalidad well describes God's way of loving, a loving without limits, and yet always a discreet love. For Ignatius, a love without limits is a love of discretion because of reverence. The reverence that God shows to each of us, his children, is meant to be the pattern of our own way of loving. As the Third and Fourth Weeks show, God's love, incarnate in Jesus, will not be limited even by threat of death or death itself. And, in his risen life, Jesus lives the discreet love of never forcing but eliciting our response. Jesus' interaction with Thomas a week after the resurrection shows Love eliciting love. There are no limits to God's love, but, his reverence for us being so great, God always loves us with discretion. Human freedom, what we sometimes call spiritual freedom, is about giving oneself, sharing who we are. Freedom in its essence is not focused on one's independence or on concern about one's rights. For Ignatius, as we are reminded in his November-December 2002 Fleming ¯ Ignatian Invitation prenote to the Contemplation on the Love of God, lovers want to express their love in deeds more than words, and lovers want to communicate (the Ignatian word communicar) or share what they have with the one they love. It is in self-giving, in mutual sharing, mutual surrender, that human freedom is most strongly experienced. It is in this experience of generosity that true love is experienced between God and us and between wife and husband and between all who love. Ignatian generosity is not just a giving as in giving away; it is a sharing, a communication back and forth between two parties. "More !" The dynamism of Ignatian spirituality is sometimes identified with the Latin word magis, "More!" Looking for more seems to indicate a discontent with what is. Wanting more--for example, more food, more money, more successmcan be a devil-driven quality that makes us desire to be our own gods. To put magis in focus, we need to recognize that Ignatius's meaning of the word is in relation to love that has no limits, but nevertheless is always discreet. In ottier words, magis for Ignatius is a relationship word, a word having meaning in terms of personal relationships, in terms of love, reverential love. For Ignatius, God-given love is the only thing, the only giving, that gives proper meaning to "More!"--the love given freely, in generosity and always in reverence, just as God loves. Into the Deep In the same apostolic letter that Pope John Paul told us Christians to "set out into the deep" in this new millennium, he also gave a name to the spirituality that was to empower us in this endeavor. He called all Christians to live a "spirituality of communion." The pope made little attempt to define it and certainly did not identify this spirituality of communion with any one school or tradition of spirituality. The word communion, we note, does not come from the Latin unio and cure, meaning "union with." Rather, with its two re's, communio (from the Latin munus and cure) expresses a "functioning or working with." The usual English meaning of Review for Religious "communion"--that is, "union with"--will result from our "working together," but there seems to be an emphasis on activity, a real working at something together. The pope has called us all to live a spirituality of communion--to live a working-together spirituality--in a world in which divorce and family divisions are rampant, a world in which the meanness and divisiveness of racial, cultural, and economic differences have turned various cities and countries into war zones, a world in which our churches are divided between conservative (or traditional) factions and liberal (or progressive) ones, and a world in which religious faith itself is used as the excuse for the hatred, violence, and death visible in Europe, visible in the Middle East, visible in Africa, visible in India, and there are always more. The spirituality that is needed for us to face this world, the pope says, is above all a spirituality of communion. It is a provocative expression for a spirituality that looks to the future--"working together at bringing together." What is Ignatius's invitation to us today? It really does not differ from his invitation to the men and women of his own time in the 16th century. Perhaps we see the makeup of his spirituality more clearly today, finding it attractive in the face of the demands of our times. Perhaps we are more needy today, more in need of what this spirituality offers. Perhaps Ignatian spirituality shows the way to a reverence for all relationships in our world, so missing in secular culture and perhaps obscured in our church too. Whatever the appeal of Ignatian spirituality, I know that it concretizes for us a spirituality of communion--a "working together at bringing together." We need to be fed by God's word, by "every utterance that comes from the mouth of God," if we are to live and actively minister in our church today. For this, it can help to hold on to the word remembering, noting, examining, and recalling the story of events that have gone into the making of who we are--but not letting the past encapsulate us or drive us. We need to allow our creator God to break into our lives with creativity, and so it can help to hold on to the word imagining, contemplating, dreaming, and visioning activities that allow God to enter our life and accompany us into a world of generosity that only a truly'free person can know. When we remember God's love from past events and when we imagine God's call to greater love, more generosity, in the November-December 2002 Fleming ¯ Ignatian Invitation future, we are able to experience the magis (the "More!"), a love that is free and discreet, not driven, because of God's reverence for us and our reverent response. With a discreet love that knows no limits, we enter into Jesus' way of loving, into all the activity of God's way of loving. We are free to share our gifts, to be present, to give of ourselves, to labor and struggle and not count the cost. Whatever our situation, we may hear St. Ignatius echoing Pope John Paul: Yes, put out into the deep, be empowered with a spirituality of communion, look beyond patriarchy, foster mutuality, look towards solidarity, "work together at bringing together." Father Pedro Arrupe, the former superior general of the Jesuits, often used to ask challengingly, "Como?" or, in English, "How to do?" I can see Ignatius responding: "Remember and imagine." I can see Ignatius softly reminding us that there is a magis because there is Love. More softly still he adds, "Remember, imagine. See Jesus, our crucified Love." Adirondack Dawn Such intense stillness - no birdsong greets my ears, but only the whisper of lake water lapping the shore and birch leaves rustling ever so slightly. A faint cloud of incense rises from the misty waters, perfumed by the aroma of fragrant pine forests. Nature and I stand mute, awed by the miracle of this new day being birthed in such splendor. Christine Diensberg OSF Review for Religious IGNATIUS JESUDASAN Ignatian Indifference and Structural Constraints ~sehraneet lSy tu. nIgcnhaaltlieunsg reedfe cros ntcoe apst Gino odu'rs pwluilrla ilsis htiacr tdilmy eas. For him and his contemporaries, God was the indubitably trustworthy and unshakable rock on which to secure one's choice and commitment. Our age and culture do not believe in and recognize God as patently as previous ones did. Ours is a secular era, which understands and is at home with only secular language and thought. As contemporaries of this era, we cannot use any other language if we seriously want to address people of our era and be understood by them. In the context of seeking and finding God's will with regard to important decisions at the crossroads of one's life, St. Ignatius is, in effect, speaking of "affective indifference." In common parlance, this is a state of peace unruffled by the emotions of joy, hope, fear, and anxiety about actual or possible happenings. Anxiety is an indicator of attachment to something or someone and of the consequent fear of losing or becoming distanced from that object or person. Attachment can also be to one's own will, interests, or powers. Regarding decisions to be made by individuals and groups, we can use this language to approximate what Ignatius calls God's Ignatius Jesudasan SJ, new to our pages, writes from Loyola School; Uthiramerur 603 406; India. November-December 2002 Jesudasan ¯ Ignatian Indifference and Structural Constraints Images can be obstacles to affective indifference. A will. He desires to help people find as complete a freedom and objectivity as is obtainable or realizable on earth, so that they may be peacefully sure of making the right decision in current circumstances and the prevailing state of knowledge, avoiding needless errors of judgment and resulting difficulties, regrets, and recriminations. Affective indifference means freedom from emotional attachment or aversion to someone or something that a decision concerns or affects. Attachment and aversion are prejudices for or against someone or something. When one makes a decision on the basis of a prejudice, one is far from being fair to all involved in or affected by the decision. This unfairness comes ultimately from one or another prejudicial structure. Ignatius's stress on emotional or affective indifference can be seen as stemming from his concern about social structures with their social prejudices. Within those structures he sees the obviously unstable and changing nature of the emotions of both liking and disliking. His wish and desire is to help people achieve a stable social structure wherein all can be at peace together. This means that personal decisions people make need to be firm, steady, and. dependable. Affective indifference or lack of it has a bearing on social structures, and vice versa. People's most common difficulty in achieving and retaining affective indifference arises from the way their likes and dislikes make relationships unstable, opportunistic, exploitive, and irresponsible instead of stable, edifying, principled, virtuous, and responsible. People get stuck in webs of negative relationships from which only great effort, suffering, and sacrifice could extricate them--things they are not likely to desire. Often the very positions people occupy in an institution are obstacles to affective indifference, especially positions of great power, wealth, esteem, and influence. This can be true in the church and in institutions of religious congregations. Images can be obstficles to affective indifference. The image that people have or might get of you, or the image that you want to project of yourself, say of clarity and firmness, can make you Review for Religious inflexible. But you flatter yourself---and, when you are in power, there are also others to flatter you--with having that clarity and firmness. Such inflexible consistency is likely to be the very opposite of affective indifference and of psychological and spiritual freedom. It is perhaps a sign of the times and a clue to what they are reading that major superiors call for feedback on their governance. One hopes that they do this in openness and Ignatian indifference to the diverse opinions expressed. Needless to say, the teaching of St. Ignatius on indifference applies no less to superiors and their attitudes and decisions than to the ordinary members of his Society. Superiors have a duty to ask it of their subjects, and subjects have the reciprocal right to expect it from their superiors. Without it, religious governance would be no different from that of any secular, efficient, and exploitive military organization. The very call for feedback is a sign of a personal government, one that respects every member and takes the whole of his personality into account in decisions that affect him. This implies that the superior follows up, observes carefully, and, from what he sees and hears, learns how the subject has responded and how effectively he is accomplishing the assignment. Subjects might, of course, deliberately give false impressions. The superior might not interpret the information objectively, might bring prejudice to it, a lack of affective indifference. Depending on the patterns overall, the decision, its result, and the reading of the resulting situation will qualify as just clever and efficient, or else as also holy. An order made or given in affective indifference (and thus without prejudice) can be expected to be received with affective indifference by the subject. When there is resistance or reservation on the part of subjects who are usually affectively indifferent, there may be an absence of indifference on the part of the superior. The indicator of affective indifference is readiness to listen to the reasons and feelings of people on the other side. Indifference is total presence, availability, and attention to the other. It presupposes a measure of leisure and empathy to move with the other's flow of feeling, understanding, motivation, decision, commitment, and action. It is identification with the November-December 2002 ~esudasan ¯ I~natian Indifference and Structural Constraints other; it is objectivity with and transparency to the other. It is a state of perfect understanding, with a naturally contagious mutuality. The above is a description of a desirable ideal. The reality is very different on both sides. For we are all "busy" and in a hurry to achieve: make a name, prove a point, or teach a lesson--all in a short time. The result is that we do not achieve a solid objectivity, but make a show of power or of ourselves and our self-will, unaware of what we project and the violence we inflict on others because we do not see ourselves with their eyes: because in fact we are not indifferent. There are other structural hindrances to affective indifference. Being conditioned to structures can be the first. Some structures are inevitable and therefore function as criteria of indifference. Other structures, like tight schedules and strict procedures, militate against indifference. The greater the work, haste, power, prestige, or public image in one's life, the less time and likelihood there is for self-questioning. Thus one becomes extrovert and self-justifying, revealing the absence of detachment and indifference. When one is vested with much power or authority, one seems threatening to others, and the perceived threat erodes their indifference too. Another hindrance is that structures themselves, the very forms and formalities of objectivity, may have lacunae. That is, they may be objective only on the dubious assumption of perfect indifference on the part of decision makers and consultors. In decisions about a subject's psychological illness or resistance to change, the person involved may be physically absent from the scene of decision, and there may be a real possibility of his being prejudicially misrepresented because someone at the meeting likes or dislikes him. This writer became aware of one such misrepresentation and pointed it out. The superior, when informed, was apparently honest and humble enough to accept the correction, but the decision had already-been made in the absence of the subject and on the basis of a misunderstanding of a text. How sure is one that the information supplied to the consultors at the decision-making session is correct? When the basis of the decision is incomplete or incorrect, how complete and correct can the decision be? The probability is that this was not a unique occurrence. But Review for Religious how and why do such instances occur? They occur from the ex-parte nature of the decision or proceedings in the absence of the concerned person. The system does not have a built-in transparency for all concerned. Between the superior and the consultors, there may be some transparency. But, if the superior had the right to decide the matter after his face-to-face discussion with the concerned person but chooses, permissibly but without necessity, to bring the matter before his consultors, the subject's trust in the proceedings tends to be shaken. When the subject's personal indifference is not great, accepting the communicated decision is difficult, and the subject is left with the impression that the decision makers are no more indifferent than he himself is. It is likely that bias affects the decision precisely because the proceedings go on without the concerned person. In a personal government, transparency to the persons concerned is more important than transparency to a mechanism of decision making. Personal transparency is more likely to induce or educe a subject's indifference than an authoritarian structural mechanism like an official meeting of consultors. Besides, transparency to a mechanism risks betraying information that is passed on to a superior in confidence, and will only serve to make people opaque and nontransparent. If both trust and transparency are to be preserved along with the existing mechanisms and ways of proceeding,' the persons whom decisions concern will have to be asked to be present when the decisions are made. Otherwise, decisions are perceived as unfair and confidence is further eroded. A bigger structural constraint is the centralization of power and portfolios in the hands of one major superior. I am not advocating the appointment of more major superiors, but a suggesting that there may need to be decentralization and How sure is one that the information supplied to the consultors at the decision-making session is correct? November-December 2002 z~esudasan * Ignatian Indifference and Structural Constraints democratization of power at all levels, with the right to appeal to a higher superior when there is disagreement or conflict at any level. Democratization can be ensured by dialogue and wider consultation and by opening the local consultors' meetings to any and all members of the local community who are interested. The content or agenda of every such meeting should be announced beforehand. When a member and his works are discussed, he should have to be present. Entrusting more powers to local superiors in dialogue with their consultors and their community could ensure decentralization, but there should also be appeal to the higher superior in case of conflict or disagreements. Only that which cannot be resolved or decided upon by the local superior and community should be referred to the higher superior and his consult. When individual members feel that their voice is heard at the appropriate and necessary levels, the level of their confidence and indifference will increase. 5-841 Walking with Jesus I stroll along the water's edge tiny shorebirds my companions scurrying for morsels of food God provides in the receding tide. And I think of Jesus by the sea of Galilee, the apostles his companions listening to every word from his gentle heart. Now I too reach out to Jesus midst the sunrises and sunsets cognizant of the food of life bestowed on me, a loving son. Neil C. Fitzgerald Review for Religious DAVID M. WHALEN The Emergence of the Contemporary Traditionalists If indeed a picture is worth a thousand words, let me begin with a few verbal snapshots. The first is of a meeting of the liturgy/chaplaincy committee at a prominent Catholic university. Seated around the table are the priest chaplain, a full-time lay chaplain, and a half dozen or so students. The topic for discussion is what chaplaincy might offer by way of special services during Lent. Several suggestions generate little response. Then a student proposes an all-night Eucharistic vigil before the exposed Blessed Sacrament. The priest chaplain is amazed, and highly skeptical of its success, but feels he must go along with the suggestion if only to prove to the committee that such practices no longer attract the young. On the evening selected a brief exposition service is held with a surprising number of students present. The priest chaplain retires, setting his clock to wake him in the middle of the night so that there is sure to be someone present especially in case of an emergency. ministry formation David M. Whalen OSFS, an Oblate of St. Francis de Sales, teaches in the University of St. Michael's College. His address is Faculty of Theology/USMC; 81 St. Mary Street; Toronto, Ontario M5S 1J4; Canada. November-December 2002 Wbalen ¯ Contemporary Traditionalists As he enters the chapel, he is astonished by what he sees. There are young people everywhere. Some are on their knees. Others are sitting on the floor against the wall. Some have a Bible in one hand and a water' bottle in the other. There are even a few young students who have fallen asleep right at the foot of the altar. A second visit several hours later shows a scene almost identical to the first. The second snapshot is of a recent ~rdination. Only one man is being ordained. The concelebrating clergy section is comfortably filled with an assortment of "fifty-something" priests in albs and stoles of various design. Seated in the congregation are two additional priests, men in their mid sixties. Neither is in clerical attire. They have concerns about the overly clerical nature of the ordination ceremony and what they consider clericalism in general. For most of their priestly life, they have been in the vanguard of theological and liturgical change. Right in front of them are seated two seminarians, each in black suit and Roman collar. One sports a bright silver earring in each ear. The final snapshot is taken on the streets of Toronto, Canada, at the outset 'of World Youth Day. Walking down the street past the university are four or five religious sisters in full habit. By full habit I mean ankle-length dress, scapular, rosary hanging alongside, and a full back veil. One concession to modernity is evident. Since they do not wear a forehead cover, glimpses of black hair can be seen. Their progression down the street is continually interrupted by groups of young people who stop and talk with them, and, while I am not privy to the conversation, it appears friendly and positive. Whoever these sisters are and wherever they are from, it is clear that they are welcome in the eyes of the youth gathering in the city. These, of course, are only three snapshots. Though I could offer many more, they seem to capture bits and pieces of what I am calling contemporary traditionalism. I am a priest and religious in my late fifties. I grew up in a traditional Roman Catholic family, attended the local parish elementary school and the local Catholic high school. I entered my religious community right out of high school. My postulancy, novitiate, and first two years of professed life preceded Vatican Council 1I. The remainder of my formation took place right in Review for Religious the midst of the council. My priestly ministry began and continues in the post-Vatican lI era. My ministry has been chiefly in education, first as a high school teacher and administrator and now for twenty years at the university level. I teach in a faculty of theology attached to a university. I have also been a member of my congregation's formation team for close to twenty years. On weekends I assist in parishes. I refer to myself as part of the "bridge" generation, that is, the generation that lived before and after Vatican My doctoral work dealt with ministerial identity. Using qualitative or thick research, I studied a group of theology students, mostly lay, for one year, looking for indications of whether, when, where, and how they appropriated a ministerial identity. Religious/ministerial identity still intrigues me. What follows in this article is some informal qualitative research, that is, an attempt to look in some depth and over an extended period of time at a particular issue. Qualitative research does not permit long-range projections, and both the writer and reader need to be aware of that limitation. On the other hand, qualitative research, even of the informal variety, may suggest that the issue under scrutiny deserves some serious investigation. For several years now I have been fascinated by the growing number of people who seem to be forging a new religious identity. Many of these people have been students in my classes. Others have been a part of our formation program at one point or another. Some come from my parish experience. I refer to these people as the contemporary traditionalists. They are men and women in their twenties and thirties. Most of them are university educated, and many are now pursuing graduate studies. Theirs is the world of cyberspace and technology. Just as I would be reluctant to leave the house in the morning without my wristwatch, they do not think of leaving their residence without cell phone and PalmPilot in hand. They are much more likely to get their daily news from I have been fascinated by the growing number of people who seem to be forging a new religio ts identity. November-December 2002 VVbalen ¯ Contem~orar[ Traditionalists the Internet than from the printed newspaper. They are educated, although their educational resources are very different from mine. While I still like to hold a book and have no difficulty roaming through the stacks in a library to find the book I want, they are much more likely to use the Internet and its resources than library stacks. I continue to be amazed as the bibliography of student essays indicates more downloaded articles than traditional "hard" text references. They have only known one pope, John Paul II. They have known the liturgy only in the vernacular. Events like Vatican II, the Vietnam war, and indeed the Persian Gulf war are all historical events for them, just as Vatican Council I and Trent were for my generation. Although their Internet abilities give them a global access, they are surprisingly apolitical. They find pictures of campus disruptions in the 1960s and 1970s mildly amusing. They are generous in volunteering for local efforts to help the poor or marginalized, but not much interested in what seem the deeper structural issues that cause such poverty. It is in the broad area of theology and religious practice, though, that their contemporary traditionalism is most evident. In moral theology, for example, specifically regarding divorce and remarriage, homosexuality, and abortion and contraception, they seem at first glance totally supportive of the church's current teaching, but as conversation continues one notices the contemporary side of their traditionalism in what I call their "exemption" or "notwithstanding" clause. They believe that marriage is for life, they do not believe in divorce or remarriage of the divorced, and yet they not only are not condemnatory of divorced and remarried people they know, but often express the conviction that such people ought to be admitted to the sacraments under certain nonspecified conditions. They see no difficulty in holding a traditional position about marriage and sometimes granting exemptions to church restrictions by way of a "notwithstanding" clause. They take a similar stand regarding homosexuality. While terms such as "intrinsic disorder" are not part of their vocabulary, they seem to believe that homosexuality ought not enjoy the same status as heterosexuality. But, expressin, g such concern about the issue, in the abstract, they are quick to cite the Review for Religious gays and lesbians they know firsthand, particularly those in generous committed relationships, as persons who should be granted an exemption to the church prohibitions. They are strongly opposed to abortions. In fact, an antiabortion protest is one of the few protests in which they will participate. They do not believe in free or recreational sex, but they seem much less concerned about artificial contraception whether used in or out of marriage. They have this relative unconcern particularly in the case of young people who they think have not yet reached a certain level of moral development. People call this theological approach cafeteria theology, a pick-and-choose theological stance, or a revival of situational ethics, but the contemporary traditionalists do not seem to see it that way at all. They seem to see it as an interim theology. I have had occasion to speak with a young man who acknowledges privately that he is gay. lie does not consider himself intrinsically disordered--in fact, the term means little to him--and yet he is willing to live by the church's current expec-tations. He supports neither the "queer culture" nor the church-sanctioned support group for homosexuals called Courage. He does not think either of these groups contributes much to the cause. He is convinced that the church's teaching will change in time and seems willing to wait for it to change. He has friends who are less patient than he is, and, while he does not agree with them, at least in some instances he seems willing to grant them an "exemption" or "notwithstanding" clause. In other areas of theology, many of these young people appear to be theologically illiterate. My generation grew up with a question-and-answer form of religious education that provided a certain primitive theological literacy along with some problematic side effects, but the contemporary traditionalists do not seem to have even a primitive theological literacy. This is true even of students who are studying theology. But the contemporary traditionalists do not seem to have even a primitive theological literacy. November-December 2002 Wbalen ¯ Contemporary Traditionalists --5.90 In one of the classes I teach, I invite students at a certain point in the course to go to their "theological treasury" and find elements that they can place in conversation with their contemporary experience. A student responded by saying, "My theological treasury is bare. Someone got in before me and robbed me of everything." His opinion seemed to be that of many in the class. While many of my generation have bemoaned the style, language, and structure of the new Catechism of the Catholic Church, I am amazed at how many students consider it one of the most valuable documents in their possession. They are more likely to have this on their bookshelf than the documents of Vatican II. It is in the broad area .of liturgy/spirituality/piety, though, that the contemporary traditionalists seem most clearly identifiable. These contemporary traditionalists are searching desperately for a genuine Christian and Catholic spirituality. Last year, for example, my introductory course in spiritual direction had the highest enrollment of any course in our faculty of theology. Class evaluations were overwhelmingly positive. While in moments of pride I am quick to think that the positive response centered on me as teacher, comments suggest that their enthusiasm was for the content, not the professor. My generation was delighted when the first home Masses began to be celebrated. Gone were the long rows of pews. Instead, friends sat around a coffee table with a relaxed and much more informal ritual. The priest, if he wore any liturgical garb at all, probably wore only a .simple stole. There was always a "shared" homily and a very warm exchange of peace before the Eucharist itself was shared. The contemporary traditionalists are clearly not excited by the casual liturgy of the 1970s. They are tired of "sharing" their feelings about the readings. One student said to me, "From grade one on, all anyone ever asked me was what I felt about this or that. What I feel now is that I need a litde more information rather than another round of everyone's feelings on the topic." Almost universally, the contemporary traditionalists are critical of the way liturgy is celebrated today. They seem to find many parish liturgies and many of the clergy incapable of creating the sacred moment for them. As for p.reaching, they Review for Religious would much rather read a passage from one of the church fathers than listen to a homily. One student said to me: "Look, I already have a degree in psychology, and frankly my parish priest's attempt to speak psychologically falls flat. If he has nothing theological to say, I wish he would just sit down and shut up!" The traditional part of the student keeps him going to church while the contemporary part is constantly searching for another option. Some contemporary traditionalists are rediscovering various pious practices in the church. One student told me that from childhood on she had wondered what the various pictures were that graced the walls of her parish church. What she was referring to are the Stations of the Cross. While surfing the net, she came upon a copy of prayers and reflections designed to accompany the Stations. Waiting for a time when she felt "safe" in walking the Stations, she came to the church and walked them and prayed them. Her comment and question to me was "Why are these such a bigsecret tooay." ~" In addition to the retrieval of many traditional devotions from the past, the more contemporary practice known as Taiz4 Prayer appears very common among the contemporary traditionalists. Taiz4 Prayer, modeled on that used by the monks of Taiz~ in France, combines simple chanted scriptural phrases, mostly in Latin, with periods of silent prayer and usually concludes with a veneration of the cross. As the snapshots I gave you at the beginning of this essay hinted, the contemporary traditionalists have no difficulty with visible manifestations of their religious beliefs. They seem somewhat intrigued by the fact that so many religious and priests have abandoned religious clothing and other religious symbols. At the same time they know very few religious. Although many of them have attended Catholic elementary and secondary schools and in some cases Catholic universities, few if any of them were The contemporary traditionalists have no difficulty with visible manifestations of their religious beliefs. November-December 2002 Whalen ¯ Contemporary Traditionalists ever taught by priests, brothers, or sisters. They are much more likely to identify sisters with the late Mother Teresa or with Whoopi Goldberg in Sister Act than with an actual still-living religious woman. And, while there is a world of difference between the late Mother Teresa and the Whoopi Goldberg version of a sister, the contemporary.traditionalists find both very enticing. One young male religious in a religious community that has a visibly distinct religious habit told me that the "habit" issue is not his issue; it is an issue for the "older" members, who still seem to be fighting for something that his generation has little time or sympathy for. This gap between many of the contemporary traditionalists and many of the current generation of religious was brought home to me vividly by a simple line from a young woman beginning consecrated life. The Canadian Film Board spent a year following this young woman through the process of applying to and eventually entering a religious community. One scene in particular drew nay attention. It shows her filling out the questionnaire sent by the community as part of the admission process. One question asks, "Have you ever dated?" The young woman turns and faces the camera with a bit of a grin, rolls her eyes upward, and says "How fifties-ish!" In many ways that comment seems to represent the attitude of the contemporary traditionalists as they confront the church and ministry and religious life today. Their issues, their lifestyle, their questions and concerns are simply different from those of stereotypical conservatives or liberals. Those ideas, those agendas, are so "fifties-ish" or so "sixties-ish"! Another difference between the contemporary traditionalists and the usual conservative or liberal "suspects" and representativFs is on the matters of married clergy and women priests. The traditional side of these young contemporaries supports an all-male celibate clergy, but for many of them what is important is not the clergy's gender or marital status, but rather its authenticity. Given the option between a celibate but incompetent male priest and a liturgy presided over by someone of the caliber of Mother Teresa, they are prepared to use their "notwithstanding" clause in favor of the woman. In their eyes, this is not inconsistency; it is yet another example of different concerns and their use of the "exception" or "notwithstanding" theology option. Review for Religious Whether these contemporary traditionalists are merely a passing blip on the great Jumbo-Tron of religion today or are a whole new picture slowly replacing an older picture it is probably too early to tell. Still, it seem to me that such contemporary traditionalists are the ones most likely to investigate consecrated life or the priesthood today. Whether the religious communities and dioceses that have assumed--by deliberate choice or simply by default--a standard conservative or liberal posture will be welcoming of them and their way of life remains to be seen. Epiphany Like one of the magi, you journey toward the Light. There's more wilderness than you would have thought, uncharted plains stretching from yesterday to remote Decembers. You could lose your courage or your way and scan the sky for twinkling clues. But it requires no gift of gold or frankincense for God to grant epiphanies. Unexpected stars have risen in your darkest nights, and always just in time. So you were not surprised at what you heard today. The magi's star, absent for a while, would of course shine forth again, be fair oasis brightening the desert of vast sky and luring, as stars do, curious travelers to the very feet of new-begotten God. Patricia Schnapp RSM November-December 2002 GUY B. WILSON A Collaborative Model of Missionary Formation Imn the past four years we have developed in Costa Pica a odel of formation for our new members. The model is based on religious and lay people working together. This article is an attempt to articulate the philosophy, theology, spirituality, and practice of our experience with this model. The model is inspired by the vision and pioneering work of our founder, Father Thomas Augustine Judge. He began an apostolic organization of laypersons, the Missionary Cenacle Apostolate,and then founded two religious congregations, one for women, the Missionary Servants of Most Blessed Trinity, and one for men, the Missionary Servants of the Most Holy Trinity. He encouraged us all to collaborate as a missionary community or family. Our Rule, constitution, and documents promote this interdependence and cooperation. The new Manual of Forma-tion for the men religious emphasizes the common history and the shared vocation we have with the other branches and takes our collaboration with them for granted. Our religious have been working in teams with laypersons, sharing gifts, ministries, and faith. We are doing so more and Guy B. Wilson ST, a member of the Missionary Servants of the Most Holy Trinity, first published this description of formation principle and practice in his congregation's newsletter, Tri-Com. He can be addressed at Cenficulo Misionero San Jos~; Apartado Postal 191-3100; Santo Domingo de Heredia; Costa Rica. Review for Religious more in our promotion of parish life and the life of pastoral centers. In these places the three groups share responsibilities, power, and decisions to enrich the ministry of evangelization and to strengthen the missionary vocation of all. In Costa Rica we have applied this pastoral model of collaboration to the formation of our men religious. In this model, the laypersons are key. They form an integral part of the formation team with the director. They share responsibilities and decisions. As they do in pastoral ministry, they gready enrich the ministry of formation. Religious and laypersons, by forming community and working together as teams, model for the seminarians the reality of the church. They form a microcosm of the church, men and women, lay and religious, married and celibate, all united in their faith and promoting the mission of Jesus. This collaboration reflects the church as the people of God, an important image articulated in the documents of the Second Vatican Council. All the baptized are called to participate, with their gifts and faith, in the mission of Jesus. Laypersons, with their practical experience of day-to-day struggles and successes and with their varied professional backgrounds, have much to offer to formation ministry. Our young men have benefited from being accompanied in their religious vocation by a psychologist and father of a family, by a mother of adolescents who is also a financial administrator, by a grandmother and pastoral coordinator, and by an experienced lay missionary. Our candidates and newly professed are in an intensive process directed towards serving the people of God. It is crucial that the people of God are intimately present in their formation. This model shows laypersons and religiou~ united through their baptismal commission in promoting the mission of Jesus. It is an important change from priestly and religious vocations being enthroned above the lay vocation. The participation of women is essential not only in the ministry of the church but also in the formation of our men religious. Their perspective on life, the gospel, faith, and motherhood enriches the formation of our men in their otherwise male-dominated world. The women who have worked on this team have helped to create an environment of trust and accessibility. The seminarians feel at home in November-December 2002 Wilson ¯ A Collaborative Model of Missionary Formation approaching them to talk and seek counsel. At the same time, because of this relationship, the women have been able to challenge our young men to mature personally and grow in their religious identity. We want our future religious to reflect, in their relationships with all and especially with women, the harmony, intimacy, love, and collaboration promoted in our devotion to the Holy Trinity. Spiritual and Theological Bases This model of collaboration is based on the vision and charism of our founder. Father Judge referred to the lay apostolic organization and the men's and women's religious congregations he founded as the Missionary Cenacle. He emphasized that we work and share together the spirit of the first Christian community, the cenacle. The cenacle (the upper room where the Jesus' followers were gathered at Pentecost) is the image and model for this formation program. The formation community comprises men and women, laypersons and religious, and people from different cultures, all guided in faith and mission by the Holy Spirit. In the interaction of the cenacle, the members of the formation community are helped to develop their various gifts for use in their mission ministry. "It is the same and only Spirit who gives all these gifts and powers, deciding which each one of us should have" (1 Co 12:11). It is the Holy Spirit who prepares us for mission. This ministry calls us to adopt a prophetic stance that flows from the spirituality and ecclesiology of our founder. He selected the cenacle as the model of the interdependence of his missionary family of religious and lay people. The renewal promoted by the Second Vatican Council also suggests a formation style of collaboration. The Triniw is the main image for the church's community and mission. The Trinity, as a model of collaboration, encourages dialogue and shared ministry in our formation endeavors. Our efforts to glorify the triune God have brought us to a commitment of collaboration in community and mission with the branches of the Missionary Cenacle, lay and religious. As the Father collaborates with the Son and Holy Spirit in distinct and specific ways to actualize the saving mission, we as a formation Review for Religious team intend to collaborate in the ministry of formation of our candidates and newly professed. We form not only a team with specific duties but also a formation community in which our faith and shared ministries testify to the life and mission of Jesus. Jesus, sent by the Father, sends his missionaries or apostles to realize his mission. As people sent by Jesus, we are designated to cooperate in the labor of the Holy Spirit in the vocational development and the missioning of our brothers. Jesus is our key and door to the mystery of the Trinity. Our devotional knowledge of the incarnation brings us to a greater intimacy with Jesus. This devotion teaches us that, with all our graces and all our defects, we are sent. As humble and grateful members of the Body of Christ, we understand that our collaboration with Jesus' mission involves using the variety of our gifts. These gifts enrich the formation ministry as we accompany the candidates and newly professed in their spiritual, human, communal, and apostolic development. This model of interdependence and collaboration has several aspects. First, the religious life and its formation are not isolated from the world. The previous model of priestly and religious formation separated seminarians from the people of God in their daily life. The seminarians lived, prayed, studied, and socialized amid priestly formators and other seminarians. Only priests, normally with an academic emphasis, were chosen to direct the seminarians. The role of the laity in their formation, if it existed, was limited to classroom teaching or to consulting on specific matters. Often this environment produced elitist attitudes. The present model of formation emphasizes helping seminarians develop their capacity to live relationally with other seminarians, lay people and religious, men and women. The Formation Team The formation team of the Missionary Servants in Costa Rica comprises a religious priest as director, a layman as associate director, and a laywoman as the pastoral supervisor. This team accompanies the propaedeutic, prenovitiate, and postnovitiate formation programs. The cooperation of laypersons increases the pool of those who can dedicate themselves to formation. In our situation this is a great advantage, for we have few religious November-December 2002 Wilson ¯ A Collaborative Model of Missionary Formation available for this ministry. Also, the laypersons, through their professional training and experience, have improved the quality of formation. Our associate director, for example, a professional psychologist, has strengthened our efforts to foster the seminarians' personal growth. He has implemented extensive workshops on personal growth, sexuality, maturity, and group dynamics. Using his professional vision and understanding of the expectations of our congregation and the needs of the church, he has selected various other professionals to accompany our young men towards maturity. Likewise, the pastoral supervisor has arranged to have our seminarians trained and evaluated in their apostolic endeavors along with our lay missionaries. The apostolates have improved significandy. Our students and the lay apostles cooperatively help one another. The participation of women in the formation program has strengthened the seminarians' ability to relate to and work with both men and women. The model produces a healthy environment for our young men and for the director. Exchange and dialogue help the seminarians and also help the director in making decisions for their sake. Likewise, open sharing with lay formators is a blessing for the personal and spiritual life of the director. By challenging me daily to become a better director and religious, the lay members of the team strengthen my vocation. On the other hand, the laypersons who participate or have participated speak of the profound spiritual, apostolic, and faith growth they experience in this exchange with religious and seminarians. They are grateful for what God is doing in their lives through this relationship. The Formation Programs The formation team is responsible for three programs: propaedeutic, prenovitiate, and postnovitiate. The programs are distinct, but are located on the same property. Each program has its own living and recreational areas. I have observed certain advantages to the proximity of the programs. First, it helps economically. One team serves the three programs, and the expenses of domestic employees, property taxes, financial administration, and so forth are reduced. Second, there is good Revie~v for Religious communal interaction. The young men in the three programs share the same Eucharistic table and the common table. This has helped to build community in number, participation, and spirit. They share sports activities and work in teams. The participants of the three programs form apostolic teams with the members of our lay branch, many of whom celebrate the daily liturgies with us. All the programs study at ITAC (Instituto Teol6gico de Am4rica Central), which was formed to educate religious. The international environment has greatly enriched the formation programs in Costa Rica. The formation team consists of members from the United States, Costa Rica, Puerto Rico, and Mexico. The candidates and newly professed are from nine different nations of Central America, the Caribbean, Colombia, Venezuela, and Mexico. At the theological institute, there are students from sixteen countries and a number of religious congregations. The cultural exchange broadens everyone's worldview and promotes the vision of one America among the Americas. The formation community includes a retired religious, another religious priest (vocation director), two members of our lay organization who work in the seminary (financial administrator and academic advisor), and lay apostles from the Missionary Cenacle Apostolate who gather in our center for formation and apostolates, sharing prayer and training with our seminarians. All the members of the team have participated in programs designated for formators. The Formation of the Team All the members of the team have participated in programs designated for formators. The programs emphasize personal and spiritual development as well as methods of sharing ministries. Most of these people have attended pr.ograms of the Instituto Central de Espiritualidad in Guatemala under the leadership of Father Carlos Cabarrus SJ. They also attend theology classes at L-Y99-- November-December 2002 Wilson ¯ A Collaborative Model of Missionary Formation ITAC. They gather in retreat once a year and pray together frequently. All members of the team participate in spiritual direction. Concerns have been voiced in regard to the role of laypersons in the formation of our religious. There is a concern that, in this collaborative model of formation, our professed will not develop a clear identity as religious. From my observation over these years, our young men's religious identity is actually reinforced. In particular, the laity demand and challenge our candidates and professed to be faithful to their vocation and religious way of life. They likewise encourage our young professed to share the richness of their studies and spiritual and apostolic training with them for the benefit of the mission. It is quite evident that lay participation in their formation reinforces the vocation of our religious. A clear indicator of this is that religious priests formed in this model and now serving in our missions show a clear and strong identity in their vocation as religious. They are forming good community with their confreres on mission, and they work well with the laity. Specific Abilities This model comes with risks and challenges. Although it is based on the experience of pastoral teams functioning in our missions, the formation ministry requires specific abilities to accompany our young men in their development as persons, Christians, and religious. There are few books or guidelines to follow. The formation team has to dedicate itself to dialogue and communication. It must make a deliberate decision to form a community that shares faith, life, and vision. The heart of the work of the formation team is to model a communal spirit that collaborates on many levels. The team has to adapt continually to the new realities of this generation of young men. This is a new model, and in many respects it is prophetic. It is important that team members dialogue with other formators, with council members, and with spiritual directors to ensure the effectiveness and health of the formation. And, of course, the team must be united and convinced of the model even though people criticize it. Many will not understand it, including at ti~nes our own seminarians. Review for Religious All in all, the model is developing positively and serving well the needs of the congregation. It is producing a healthy environment for the seminarians' formation, a healthiness that includes taking some prudent risks. Bees Canning bees and picking bees, long skirts pinned up front and back, gingham aprons - blue, green, yellow-checked (diversity skirting uniformity). Noon hours in sweaty kitchen or out in sunbaked yard snipping beans, podding peas, peeling scalded tomatoes - coming and going like flocks of sparrows alighting in waves, laughing, pecking at bits of news, filling tubs of ready-to-can. Sticky evenings in berry patch or orchard, filling buckets with raspberries, blueberries, currants, climbing trees for cherries, red and black - a thousand locusts chattering between the rows, whisking clean every bush and branch. Chapel bell intoning silence. Then instant stillness - hundreds of nuns processing quietly along dusty lane toward stately motherhouse. Mary Joseph Maher IHM November-December 2002 MARY KAY DOBROVOLNY Mary Magdalene: An Icon for Women Religious sisters and brothers About six years ago I fell in love for the first time. The experience opened entire new worlds to me and taught me a great deal about honesty, integrity, inti-macy, and myself in relationship with others. It also brought tremendous conflict and turmoil. I was inex-perienced in matters of the heart, and I had made a public commitment to live vowed religious life, includ-ing celibacy, for at least three years. Being in my sec-ond year of this three-year commitment, I prayed daily for the grace to live my life with faithfulness and integrity as I discerned whether to leave my religious ¯ community or stay as a vowed member. Today I am very happily a perpetually professed Sister of Mercy, having made final vows in July 1998. But I remember clearly those days of my first love and the struggle in the months thereafter to freely choose vowed religious life. Beyond the intense grief for the path not chosen, there was the great void of role mod-els for how to negotiate a love relationship while choosing to remain a vowed member of a religious community. Loud in my consciousness were the myr- Mary Kay Dobrovolny RSM is pursing a doctorate in New Testament studies at Vanderbilt University. Her address is 3335 Acklen Avenue; Nashville, Tennessee 37212. Review for Religious iad stories of women who left in the 1960s and 1970s to marry or pursue a committed relationship with another. Deafening by its silence was the reluctance of current members to speak of their own experiences of falling in love and being in love. As a new member I began to wonder if it was possible to fall in love and choose to remain part of vowed religious life. To help fill the void of role models, this paper will present Mary Magdalene as an icon for celibate loving and apostolic mission, using the resurrection story found in the Gospel of John. This passage speaks of a love and intimacy between Mary Magdalene and Jesus. In addition, as the first to encounter the resurrected Jesus and receive the commission to "go and tell," Mary Magdalene becomes the "apostle to the apostles." This paper will (1) explore who Mary Magdalene is, sorting through the myths in the tradition; (2) examine the portrayal of Mary Magdalene in chapter 20 of John's Gospel; and (3) note some insights suggested by this examination regarding celibate loving and apostolic mission for vowed women religious. Sorting through the Myths of the Tradition When I began working on this paper, a theologically edu-cated friend of mine gave me an article on Luke 7:36-50, a pas-sage the New American Bible calls "The Pardon of the Sinful Woman.''1 I looked at my friend, smiled, thanked her for the article, and then said, "You do know that the woman in this pas-sage is not Mary Magdalene, don't you?" Gasping slightly, she said, "I can never keep those Marys straight." My friend is not alone in this, and she has had much help combining the women of Scripture. In the tradition of the West, the unnamed woman in Luke 7, Mary Magdalene, Mary of Bethany, and sometimes even the woman who was caught in adultery ~ln 8) have all been interwoven and confused. The confusion can be traced as far back as the 6th century. Pope Gregory the Great (ca. 540-604) merged the identities of these women into one woman in sev-eral homilies. Since that time, veneration of Mary Magdalene in the West has diverged from the Gospels' portrayal of her. While none of the biblical women is called "a prostitute," Mary Magdalene's most frequent portrayal in stories, legends, art, and worship has been as a prostitute and repentant sinner. November-December 2002 Dobrovolny ¯ Mary Magdalene The East has looked at Mary Magdalene as equal to the apostles. The combination of these women's identities was not shared by the Eastern churches, which have treated the women as sep-arate individuals. The East has looked at Mary Magdalene as equal to the apostles. Shortly after the time of Pope Gregory the Great, Modestus, patriarch of Jerusalem, said that Mary Magdalene, the myrrh-bearer, was "chief among the women disciples," a teacher of other holy women, a lifelong virgin, and a martyr.2 While the popular mind continues to think of Mary Magdalene as a repentant prostitute, recent scholarship is replac-ing this image with a view of her as faithful disciple, witness to the resurrection, and apostle to and with the twelve. This is a retrieval in the West of a previously held image, not a new creation. Each of the Gospels portrays Mary Magdalene as a follower of Jesus through his Galilean ministry, a wit-ness and mourner of his crucifixion and death, a witness of the empty tomb, the first to whom the risen Jesus appears, and the first to proclaim his resurrection. Accordingly, Hippolytus (ca. 170-235), bishop of Rome, named her apostola apostolorum, apostle to the apostles. This title, revived by recent scholars, was repeated as late as Thomas Aquinas. Narrative Analysis of John 20 John 20:1-18 is a single narrative unit divided into three scenes. Verses 1-2 depict Mary Magdalene's discovery of the empty tomb, verses 3-10 describe the race between Peter and the beloved disciple to the tomb, and verses 11-18 find Mary Magdalene alone, weeping outside the tomb. She went to the tomb of the crucified Jesus "early. while it was still dark." hnmediately after discovering that the stone had been removed from the tomb, she ran to tell Peter and the beloved disciple that "they have taken the Lord from the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him." This is the first of three times that she announces that the body of Jesus has been removed from the tomb (see also 20:13 and 15). This announcement to Review for Religious Peter and the beloved disciple is the catalyst for the second scene, in which these two characters race to the tomb to dis-cover it empty, albeit for linen wrappings. After these two have returned home (20:10), Mary Magdalene stands weeping beside the tomb. Still weeping, she stoops and looks inside, continuing her search for Jesus' body. Her weeping is mentioned twice in one verse, suggesting both intense frustration and intense grief. She stays in this place of grief and pain rather than return home like the other disciples. She turns toward suffering, pain, and death.3 The setting for Mary Magdalene's search for the body of Jesus is both a graveyard and a garden. Her weeping in the graveyard is reminiscent of the grief of Mary of Bethany upon the death of her brother Lazarus, and the garden On 19:41) brings to mind both the primeval male-female intimacy of Adam and Eve in Genesis and the passionate love in the Song of Songs (4:12-5:1; 6:2-3; 8:13).4 Mary looks into the tomb and sees "two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying" (20:12). Rather than deliver a message of hope, comfort, or resurrection, these angels question her: "Woman, why are you weeping?" This question calls attention to her tears for a third time. Mary reit-erates the cause of her pain: "They have taken my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him" (20:2 and 13). Apparently not awed by the angels, Mary turns from the tomb to see the unrecognized Jesus. A conversation with this "gar-dener" takes place, three exchanges between them. Jesus asks the reason for her weeping--tears mentioned now a fourth and final time. The intensity of Mary's grief and worry and serves to fulfill the prediction Jesus made earlier in the Gospel: "Amen, Amen, I say you, you will weep and mourn, but the world will rejoice" (16:20). In this Gospel, Mary Magdalene is the only character who weeps and mourns when she can "no longer see [Jesus]" (16:19).s Soon the rest of Jesus' prediction will be fulfilled: "You will have pain, but your pain will turn into joy" (16:20 and 22). Jesus asks not only the reason for her weeping, but also "Whom are you seeking?" (20:15). She reiterates for the third time her search for the crucified Jesus, asking the "gardener" to help her find him. The focus on Mary's unrelenting search for . November-December 2002 Dobrovolny ¯ Mary Magdalene the crucified Jesus echoes the lover's intense search for her beloved in the Song of Songs: Upon my bed at night I sought him whom my soul loves; I sought .him, but found him not; I called him, but he gave no answer. "1 will rise now and go about the city, in the street~ and-ih the squares; I will seek him whom my soul loves." I sought him, but found him not. The sentinels found me, as they went about in the city. "Have you seen him whom my soul loves?" Scarcely had I passed them when I found him whom my soul loves. I held him and would not let him go until I brought him into my mother's house, and into the chamber of her that conceived me. (Sg 3:1-4, NRSV) In this passage and in the narrative about Mary at Jesus' tomb, the women are seeking and failing to find their beloved. The searches occur in a garden (Sg 4:12-5:1; 6:2-3; 8:13; Jn 19:41-42). The women inquire where their beloved might be. And, as we will see shortly, neither woman wants to release her beloved once he has been found. This is stated strongly in the Song of Songs 3:4: "I held him, and.would not let him go until I brought him into my mother's house, and into the chamber of her that conceived me." The second exchange is marked by recognition. Mary Magdalene has not recognized the resurrected Jesus by sight, but now, his voice sounding her name, she recognizes him. This recognition reminds us of the shepherd who "calls his own by name" and they "follow him because they know his voice" (10:3- 4). Mary exclaims, "Rabbouni!" (meaning Teacher). This title and "Lord," the title she has used before (20:2, 13, and also 15), are titles Jesus has mentioned as fitting ones: "You call me Teacher and Lord--and you speak correctly, for indeed I am" (13:13). Before Mary's "Rabbouni!" the Greek text says of her (using a participle) strapbeisa. This can simply mean baying turned, but it can also mean baying changed inwardly, baying been converted.6 The New Revised Standard Version uses the former meaning of physical motion, saying "she turned." But she has already turned from the tomb toward this "gardener" (20:14); turning physically again does not make narrative sense. It s~iems instead that, hear- Review for Religious ing her name spoken by that beloved voice, she is inwardly changed by that recognition. Most likely the transformation of her weeping and mourning into the joy described in John 16:20 and 22 is at the heart of that change. In the third exchange, Jesus presents Mary Magdalene with two commands: "Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father" and "Go to my brothers and sisters and say to them . " In read-ing between the lines, it can be difficult to get the tone of Jesus' commands and their impact on Mary, whose weep-ing has just been transformed into joy. Some commentators try to find a fault in her or her belief, which does not permit her to touch Jesus as Thomas is later invited to do (20:27).7 Others have written about a "decided brutality" in Jesus' rebuke and rejection of her.8 Both of these interpretations miss textual clues. Far from being found at fault, Mary is given, a privileged position within the Gospel of John as the first to see the risen Jesus and the first to be commissioned to proclaim the resurrection. Jesus does not find fault with her--which suggests that the Gospel's author does not intend the reader to do so either. As for the idea of "brutality," Mary does not respond as one who has been rebuked or rej.ected by her beloved Jesus. There is no more weeping. Instead, with jubilation Mary proclaims, "I have seen the Lord!" (20:18). Still, inasmuch as Mary's inclination to hold on to her beloved after seeking him unrelentingly with intense longing is quite understandable (as in Sg 3:4), Jesus' command is per-plexing. It can only be understood in light of his explanation: "for I have not yet ascended to the Father." Later in this same verse, Jesus tells Mary to announce "I am ascending . " The text seems to indicate that Jesus is in a transitional phase in which he is in the process of ascending.9 The appearance of Jesus at this threshold moment between his resurrection from the dead and his ascension to the Father is unique, and it Hearing her name spoken by that beloved voice, she is inwardly changed by that recognition. November-December 2002 Dobrovolny * Mary Magdalene involves only Mary Magdalene. By the time Jesus appears and invites Thomas to touch him (20:27), he has already ascended to the Father and returned, bringing and bestowing the Advocate upon the disciples (20:22). Mary's encounter with Jesus is recognizable as a uniquely privileged one. After telling Mary not to hold on to him, Jesus commis-sions her to "go to my brothers and sisters and tell them, 'I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God'" (20:17). There are three noteworthy pieces of this com-mission: (1) the phrase tous adelphous mou, translated above as "my brothers and sisters"; (2) the phrase "to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God"; and (3) the verb tense used in the commission to "go and tell." The phrase "my brothers and sisters" denotes a new rela-tionship between Jesus and his followers and among his fol-lowers. 1° Previously, in his final discourse to the disciples, Jesus has called his disciples friends rather than slaves (15:15), and, while hanging on the cross, he has created a new relationship between his mother and the beloved disciple (19:26-27). Now (20:17) he proclaims that all members of the believing com-munity are his brothers and sisters and, by implication, broth-ers and sisters to each other. This new relationship recalls and fulfills the imagery in the Johannine Prologue: "But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God" (1:12). The fulfillment of the words of the Prologue is made more explicit in what follows: "I am ascending to my Father andyour Father, to my God and your God" (20:17). The rhythm of these words recalls the covenant Ruth made with her mother-in-law Naomi: "Your people shall be my people and your God my God" (Ruth 1:16). Despite the differences in race, Ruth, a Moabite, casts her lot with her Hebrew mother-in-law, mak-ing their futures forever intertwined. In the same way, Jesus proclaims that, despite the differences (see 14:6: "I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father except through me"), a new covenantal family relationship has been established. This new covenantal family relationship encompasses all of the believing community in the postresurrection community. Mary Magdalene is commissioned to "go to my brothers and Review for Religious sisters and tell them . " The imperative verb poreuou (go) is in the present tense. A present imperative "generally denotes a command to continue to do an action or to do it repeatedly.''11 Thus, Mary Magdalene is commissioned, not for a one-time telling of her revelation of the risen Jesus (such as that recorded to the disciples in 20:18), but to go repeatedly to the commu-nity, continuing to tell the story of her encounter with the risen Jesus.2 The Gospel of John does not narrate any additional con-versation between the risen Jesus and Mary Magdalene. Instead, Mary is presented as going immediately to the disciples to pro-claim: "I have seen the Lord!" Her weeping and mourning have been transformed into joy. Her intense search-ing for her beloved has been transformed into assured confidence of continuing in her rela-tionship with Jesus. Her encounter with the risen Jesus establishes her authority among the disciples. And, through her conveying the mes-sage of the risen Jesus, a new relationship among the community of believers is estab-lished, enabling them to be "brothers and sisters" in the one God and Father of them all. It is on the authority of her witness and the new relationship that she is given to proclaim that the tradition correctly bestows upon her the identity of apostola apostolorum, "apostle to the apostles." Through her conveying the message of the risen Jesus, a new relationship among the community of believers is established, enabling them to be "brothers and sisters" in the one God. Iconic Insights for Celibate Love and Apostolic Mission The command in the Gospel of john is clear: "Love one another" (13:34, 15:12). The Gospel further indicates that it is through our love for one another that we will be recognized as Nove~nber-Decenlber 2002 Dobrovolny ¯ Mary Magdalene disciples of Jesus--that Jesus will be made known in our world. As apostolic women religious, we do love deeply. We are drawn by Love and called by Love. We express our love in prayer, in community, in ministry. Sometimes we eveh fall in love. I used to fear falling in love and being in love. I thought it would jeopardize my identity as a Sister of Mercy. I thought it would place my ability and my commitment to live the vow of celibacy at too great ~ risk. I was wrong. Through experiences of falling in love and being in love, I have been drawn deeper into the mystery of Love. Through my love experiences, I have been taught how to love, and I have been taught what it means to be another person's "beloved." With my own longing for the touch of another, I discovered the depth of my longing for God. Through the words of another person's longing for me, I have heard God's longing for me. These love experiences have drawn me deeper into the mysterious and mystical love of God. I am not saying that as apostolic women religious we need to have one or more experiences of falling in love and being in love to be drawn deeply into the mystical love of God. I am simply saying that it can happen through these love experiences because it has happened. I would venture to guess that many of us have been taught how to love God as God's own beloved through experiences of loving another and being loved. That is part of the mystery of the incarnation, the revelation of God in human form. As one who has dared to love deeply, I resonate with Mary Magdalene, who dared to love Jesus deeply. Through my expe-rience of choosing not to follow my beloved and commit myself to that love relationship, I identify with her intense longing, her intense searching, her utter grief. There is a point in which it seems that tears will never end. In the midst of risking to love deeply as vowed religious, we risk being led to the depths of our pain, our longing, our search-ing. But a wise woman once taught me that, if I am unwilling or unable to feel the depth of my own pain, or longing, or grief, then I am also not able to journey with another person to the depths of her or his pain.~3 Our choices do impact our ministry. By feeling the depths of our pain and our grief, our hearts are opened to feel the pain of others around us and of our world. As apostolic women religious, we are called to feel that pain, to Review for Religious name that pain, to witness to the suffering of those around us. We are called to stand with those who are marginalized, to mourn and weep with them for all that is not right in our world. We are called to name destructive violence for what it is, to name the things that rob individuals, communities, and coun-tries of fullness of life. Tears can seem unending. Mary Magdalene chose to stay at the tomb; she chose to stand in the emptiness, in the void, in the confusion, in the pain. She chose to weep and mourn. She continued her search for her beloved Jesus. She sought him out, persisting in the search even when others did not. Her actions are characterized by initiative, persistence, and determination. Her search betrays an intense longing and yearning. As apostolic women religious, we too are called to stand in the emptiness of a broken world. We are called to search for our beloved God in the midst of this brokenness. We are called to long and yearn for a world that is imbued with the presence and love of God in every cor-ner, in every action between individual persons, and in all diplo-macy and business between countries. We are called to work for such a world with our own efforts, our own initiative, per-sistence, and determination. Mary Magdalene searched for what she knew was possible to find--the body of her crucified Jesus, her beloved. Ultimately, instead of finding what it seemed humanly possible to find, she was found by a divine reality beyond her fondest hope; she was found by the risen Jesus. In turning toward Jesug, in hearing her name called by her beloved, she was transformed. She was able to turn to a new.reality and allow her life and the world she knew to be transformed. As apostolic women religious, we are called to model Mary Magdalene. We are called to seek out and work toward what we know is realistically possible. In our ministerial commit-ments, we are called to set attainable goals and strive to meet them. We are called not to be overwhelmed by the extent of brokenness in our world, not to let ourselves be paralyzed by grief and despair. In our searching and striving, we are called to have an open heart that is ready to be transformed, a heart ready to be found by a divine reality beyond our imagination. The words of the risen Jesus are again perplexing: "Do not hold on to me." After such intense searching and longing, it is Noventber-December 2002 Dobrovolny * Mary Magdalene Like Mary Magdalene, we are commissioned to proclaim the living God here in our midst. completely understandable to want to hold on to whatever sign of life and love, whatever divine revelation, we see in the midst of a broken and pain-filled world. Yet love and the things of this world are not ours to hold on to. With open hands and open hearts, we instead hear Jesus' words: "Go to my brothers and sisters." Like Mary Magdalene, we are commissioned to proclaim the living God here in our midst. Mary Magdalene was in a privileged place with a unique encounter with the risen but not-yet-ascended Jesus. Her encounter cannot be replicated. Yet, as apostolic women reli-gious, we sometimes do not rec-ognize our own privileged place. We belong to religious commu-nities that nurture and support our spiritual journey, that help us integrate contemplation into our lives of ministry. Time and money are provided for ongoing spiritual direction and annual retreats. We are joined by others who are on this same jour-ney; together we have companionship and a common language to name our experiences. Many days I take all of this for granted. But, like Mary Magdalene, we women religious are in a privileged place in our world. In our lives, contemplation opens us to divine revelafons that may be unique to our world-- and maybe our world desperately needs to hear them from us. Through Mary Magdalene's encounter with him, the risen Jesus instituted a new relationship among his followers. He called his followers his "brothers and sisters" and said that his Father is their Father, and his God their God (20:17). We live in a fractured and broken world and a fractured and broken church. Like Mary Magdalene, we are called to give witness to a vision of unity. We are called to be sisters to each other in our communities so that we can be, beyond our communities, sisters to our world. Like Ruth's covenantal relationship with her mother-in-law Naomi, we are called to unity with others, no matter how different from us. This is the vision Mary Magdalene was given by the risen Jesus, and it is offered to us as well. Review for Religious As apostolic women religious, not only are we called to weep and mourn with those at the margins of our society and with the victims of the violence in our world. We are also called to proclaim the power of the resurrection. We are Galled to pro-claim a God who loves us deeply and calls each of us by name. We are called to proclaim a God who transforms lives, filling the empty tombs of our lives with life unimaginable. We are called to proclaim a God who raises the dead to life and offers life eternal. Like Mary Magdalene, the premibre apostola apostolo-rum, "apostle to the apostles," we are called to proclaim an Easter faith to a world that is ravenously hungry for God. May God find us willing. Notes ' The story in Luke 7:36-50 is of an unnamed woman who bathes the feet of Jesus with her tears, kissing them and anointing them with ointment. The setting is the home of a Pharisee who neglected the customary act of hospitality of washing his guest Jesus' feet upon his arrival in his home. 2 Modestus of Jerusalem, PG 86, cols. 3273-3276, as quoted in Susan Haskins, Mary Magdalen, Myth and Metaphor (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1993), p. 107. 3 This is emphasized by Dorothy A. Lee, "Turning from Death to Life: A Biblical Reflection on Mary Magdalene (John 20:1-18)," Ecumenical Review 50 (1998): 112-120. 4 See E Scott Spencer, "'You Just Don't Understand' (or Do You?): Jesus, Women, and Conversation in the Fourth Gospel," in A Feminist Companion to John, ed. Amy-Jill Levine and Marianne Blickenstaff, Vol. 4 of Feminist Companion to the New Testament and Early Christian Writings (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002, antic-ipated). 5 Colleen M. Conway, Men and Women in the Fourth Gospek Gender and Johannine Characterization (SBLDS 167; Atlanta: SBL, 1999), p. 193. 6 See John 12:40; BAGD, 2nd ed., p. 771. 7 Interpretations that place a fault on Mary Magdalene have been found as early in the tradition as Ambrose and Jerome. For the history of interpretation of this verse, see Harold W. Attridge, "Don't Be Touching Me: Recent Feminist Scholarship on Mary Magdalene," in A Feminist Companion to John. 8 See especially Alison Jasper, "Interpretative Approaches to John 20:1-18: Mary at the Tomb of Jesus," ST 47 (1993): 107-118. November-December 2002 Dobrovolny ¯ Mary Magdalene 9 This interpretation has been in the tradition as early as Origen. See Attridge, "Don't Be Touching Me," pp. 3-4. 10 While many translations, including N'JB, NAB, and NRSV, trans-late adelphous simply as "brothers," there is no good reason not to use the inclusive translation "brothers and sisters." There are a substan-tial number of places in both Koine and Attic Greek in which the plural adelphoi refers to both brothers and sisters, not just brothers. See BAGD, pp. 15-16. 11 David Alan Black, Learn to Read New Testament Greek, rev. ed. (Nashville: Broadman and Holman, 1994), p. 168. ,2 This provides further evidence for the appropriateness of the inclusive translation of tous adelphous mou as "my brothers and sis-ters." 13 My thanks to my former CPE supervisor Rosemary Ferguson OP for teaching me this lesson. Child of Mary The presbytery garden, after Mass, is busy with departing worshipers, mostly taking the shortcut to their cars; only Patrick, pauper of the parish and carless, solitary wanderer-about- town, seems unready to be gone. A single point of stillness in our midst, he lingers by the weathered blue and white of o~r Lady, in her privet bower, hands in his pockets and a cigarette - unlit and apparently forgotten - casually tilted between his lips. It's not the first time that I've seen him there, at Mary's shrine under the conker-trees, in that same relaxed, attentive posture, head bent in unobtrusive reverence and his eyes, as now, remotely focused on something only he is privy to. Ian A.T. White Review for Religious PHILIP ARMSTRONG Lonely and Small: Religious Brothers' Situation Z ose with long memories may recall a novelty song the rics of which ran, "I'm a lonely little petunia in an onion patch . . . all I do is cry all day." The catchy melody and much repetition were probably more responsible for the song's burning itself into the memory than any depth of meaning, but the plaintive cry of a single common flower that finds itself surrounded by a crop of onions tugs at least minimally at our heartstrings. The poor litde petunia, no matter how attractive, cannot help feeling overwhelmed. It grieves in its isolation. Latter-Day Petunias I suggest that religious brothers are experiencing something of the lonely petunia's plight in today's church and world. The brothers' existence, let alone their impact, is nearly impercep-tible. They are much less noticeable than the clergy, who, like onions, are rather conspicuous. Metaphorically speaking, the church cultivates onions assiduously, and in more than one way people keep being reminded of their existence. Few take notice of a few petunias scattered here and there among them, eager to have a beneficial impact on the church. No wonder the brother is sometimes tempted to cry all day about being practically invis-ible and irrelevant. Philip Armstrong CSC last wrote for us in September-October 2001. His address is P.O. Box 460; Notre Dame, Indiana 46556. November-December 2002 Armstrong ¯ Lonely and Small But that would be surrendering to self-pity, and there is really no reason for it. Brothers, however hidden, do in fact accomplish enormous amounts of good through multiple forms of ministry. Brothers by all means must reflect regularly on the relevance of their vocation. Doing so can increase their capac-ity and determination to continue serving God's people in prac-tical and concrete ways. It is not my intent to prove the situation of the brother, for it should be self-evident to anyone closely and objectively observing the working of the church's hierarchical structure thirty-eight years after the Second Vatican Council's dogmatic constitution on the church, Lumen gentium. There, in chapter 2, the council fathers remind the faithful that all the people of God constitute the church, but make it clear in chapter 3 that "the church is hierarchical," with positions of higher and lower authority in it. By implication, then, the concept of horizontal authority, lending itself more to equality than to degree of dis-tinction, is set aside. A wisp of cynicism might drift in here, in language reminiscent of George Orwell's Animal Farm: All God's people are equal, but some are more equal than others. True, at times the roles of these leaders have been circum-scribed by expectations of the faithful. Clerics of whatever rank have always been somewhat limited in their practice of min-istry by various expectations that church members have, some-times by reason of their limited education, sometimes because they make rarely make use of their membership, sometimes for other reasons. The laity were able to se~ this plainly enough. They have been able to see, too, that religious sisters, despite their goodwill, talents, and sacrificial dedication, often had their activities arbitrarily limited. But still, in the case of both clerics and nuns, the laity have long had a clear, consistent image of them in the scheme of things. Not so in the case of religious brothers. In the small world of parochial or diocesan secondary education during the first two-thirds of the 20th century, brothers indeed were visible, for they figured prominently in the plans of bishops and pastors as the logical educators of adolescent boys. Outside that world, however, brothers' visibility ceased. There were almost no brothers in ministry outside their own institutions. So, if you were not the parent of a boy in a brothers' school, you just did Review for Religiotts not know any brothers. If you were such a parent, you probably knew them only in their professional and institutional capacity. Visible or Not Yet conciliar, synodal, and papal statements continue to remind us that the brothers' life is a needed, purposeful, valid, blessed state of life among the people of God. The brothers' life has been an enduring part of the church and has been affirmed and approved repeatedly over the ages, both by the hierarchy and by those benefiting from the brothers' ministries. The vowed life has demanded and permitted adaptations befit-ting the "signs of the times" regarding current needs of church and society. None of these factors, as we look into the stark reality of membership trends today, changes the perilous situ-ation in which vowed commitment finds itself as a way of life in the church. Who could blame today's brothers, lonely little petunias, for crying, if they avoided sobs of self-pity and merely shed a few silent tears of loneliness amid feelings of irrelevance? A Proposal Allow me make a proposal here that is simple, radical, and perhaps revolutionary. Recent research and writing on forward-looking ecclesiology and theology has been done by such authors as Cletus Wessels OP, Sandra Schneiders IHM, Kenan Osborne OFM, Joan Chittister OSB, and Ronald Rolheiser OMI.~ It would be helpful if they supported the concept behind nay proposal. Except for Osborne in a very general way, they do not, so far as I know. Nor are there incontrovertible scriptural or patristic citations I can lean upon. Yet in experience, common sense, and urgent pastoral need, there seems to be adequate foundation for this proposal: I believe religious life, that is, vowed commitment to a life of service to the church and world through the public profes-sion of the evangelical counsels, should be raised to the status of a sacrament in the Roman Catholic Church. I ~nake this proposal for two reasons. First, both matrimony and orders are recognized by the people of God as sacramental moments in which God's providential presence is at work in a special way and as symbols of God's continuing activity among November-December 2002 Armstron~ ¯ Lonel.~ and Small us. These sacraments touch the lives of those receiving the sacra-ments, those who witness their reception, and those who receive the ministrations of parents and priests. Currently, vowed com-mitment is recognized as only a "sacramental" (Catechism of the Catholic Church, §1667), that is, "a sacred sign which bears a resemblance to the sacraments." Sacramentals are meant to dispose individuals to receive the sacraments. Yet religious life, in its purpose and its demands, ranks logically with the sacra-ments of matrimony and orders as equally exacting, equally needed, equally exemplary, and equally rewarding. Second, the raison d'etre of religious life goes far beyond individual commitment and participation in the common life of an approved congregation. Pronouncing the vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience demands of the those making this pub-lic commitment the express intention of reaching out in gener-ous, loving service to others and also of being a visible witness to the gospel values that run counter to pleasure, wealth, and power. In short, vowed commitment constitutes a way of life modeled perfectly by Jesus in the gospels. Besides the individ-ual and congregational covenants, there are perceptible public consequences of religious profession from which the whole of society benefits. Who can ignore the symbolic impact and value vowed com-mitment could have as a sacrament? If the church, as we are informed, periodically evaluates the sacramental system with a view to keeping it optimally relevant for the people of God, now is the time to exercise that prerogative once again and bring commitment by the vows of religion to the level of recognition and acceptance it deserves. If the dearth of vocations to lay religious life is to be effec-tively addressed from within the church, if those who have supervisory and teaching authority in the church are to heighten the awareness of the people of God to this form of life and ser-vice in yhe church, then I suggest that no better way exists than to bestow the character of sacrament on vowed commitment in the religious life. What would that entail? Sacraments Then and Now The church gives as its traditional definition of sacrament: Reviev) for Religious "an outward sign instituted by Christ to give grace" (Baltimore Catechism). The Catechism of the Catholic Church (§1131) supplies the same definition, slightly elaborated. With all due respect, I suggest this description is neither adequate nor entirely appropriate today. Acknowledging that the present sacramental system was developed over the course of centuries, that only since 1150 have we specified seven, and that the system remains open to review and revision in the light of new insights and the needs of the times (Sacrosanctum concilium, §62), I propose the following definition: "A sacrament is a meaningful symbol first exemplified in the life of Jesus and today incarnated through him in key human moments or events publicly celebrated by the worshiping community as a sign and promise of life in the Spirit and of bonding among the people of God." Here I suggest less emphasis on exegetical proof of a sacra-ment's being "instituted by Christ" and on its "giving grace" ex opere operato. I would rather the focus be put on the gospel rev-elation of Jesus' participation in significant events in the spiri-tual development of individuals and groups and on how those events enrich their personal relationship with God, invite them to ongoing conversion, and give promise of growth arising out of continuously augmented relationships. From this perspec-tive I believe Jesus' conversation at the well with the Samaritan woman and later with her fellow townspeople (Jn 4:1-42) illus-trates a sacramental moment, as does the cure of the demoniac in the country of the Gerasenes (Mk 5:1-20). In both cases sig-nificant individual impact opens the door to community con-version and further orientation toward God. Other examples could be the wedding at Cana (Jn 2:1-11), the multiplication of the loaves and fishes (Lk 12:9-17), Lazarus (Jn 11:1-44), the man born blind (Jn 9:1-41), and Zacchaeus (Lk 19:1-10). According to the current definition, a sacrament stresses the individual's readiness and participation; that is, each sacra-ment's salvific effects relate primarily to the recipient. The ben-efit is bestowed directly on the person(s) being baptized, confirmed, ordained, anointed, forgiven, married, or nourished by Christ's Body and Blood. On the other hand, in the light of recent research leading to a more profound understanding of the human person, the focus seems to be moving toward a com-munity- centered interpretation. November-December 2002 Armstrong ¯ Lonely and Small Such a sacramental system is perceived as productive of new, restored, or improved relationships and a wider, more knowl-edgeable and conscious participation in the administration of each sacrament; it presumes that a communal enrichment is more desirable than a benefit chiefly or only for an individual. The emphasis switches from ex opere operato (individual benefit from grace already won by Christ) to ex opere operantis (individual and community intention to receive and benefit from grace con-stantly available through Christ). The latter effect is "from the recipient's own activity" (ex opere operantis) and can be under-stood as applying not only to an individual recipient but also to the witnessing, supportive community of worshipers. The indi-vidual's participation in the reception of a sacrament draws in, involves, and impacts the entire worshiping community. Playing It Out So considered, baptism can more readily be seen as the com-munity's welcoming another member into God's family, a fam-ily that seeks to extend God's reign on earth. Confirmation marks a communal response of support for the individual's maturing affirmation of fundamental faith. The Eucharist-- both as celebration and as nourishment--is the perfect bond uniting God's people. Holy orders and matrimony are the com-munity's affirmation of and blessing on individuals' vocational and lifestyle choices in their seeking of God. The community's example helps the individuals to do the same. Reconciliation is clearly community-oriented because the individuals' failings impact the entire assembly, and so the community's forgiveness, encouragement, and support are essential in the individuals' battle with human weakness and willfulness. The anointing of the sick is the worshiping community's laying on of hands, even if figuratively, to show oneness with, care of, and support for an ailing member; it is a reminder of how interdependent we are as the people of God. Why Not? It is from this view of the sacramental system that I pro-pose raising religious life to the level of formal sacrament, I see Review for Religious no more effective way to reestablish the ecclesial significance of vowed commitment. I will not elaborate here on the appro-priateness of including other forms of commitment to the ser-vice of the people of God (for example, appointments or elections to church office, including the permanent diaconate and most other offices, even temporary ones, oriented toward the pastoral care of the community). Vghat more fitting way to welcome a pastor into the midst of the flock than by a commu-nal sacramental celebration of the significance and symbolism of that pastoral office? These and even more possibilities would, I believe, inaugurate anaong the people of God a better under-standing of how communal (in and through the church) the relationship between an individual and God is. In the process, knowledge of and respect for the religious life would be aug-mented, along with encouragement to join its ranks. Juridic Implications Were vowed commitment to become a sacrament, would that not, as some suggest, expose this way of life, even in exempt congregations (those approved by and directly responsible to the Holy Father and exempt from overall juridic control by the local ordinary), to greater control by local ordinaries? I believe the answer contains two components. First, the church already has the authority to interpret the evangelical counsels, to regulate them in practice, and to establish lifeforms that implement them (LG §43). The church's authority over religious life is acknowledged further, for example, in the Catechism of the Catholic Church (§§919, 927,944) and in the Vatican II document Ad genres (§~18, 40). Thus, the question is not whether the church would assume an authority it did not have before, but whether local ordinaries would get some juris-diction over exempt communities that they did not have before. As the above citations indicate, even exempt religious commu-nities must work with and by the authority of the local ordi-nary, in accord with his overall pastoral plan. With the revised understanding of "sacrament" proposed above, I contend that there would be no more control than before. Second, emphasis would be placed, not on consecrated life as sign, but on vowed commitment as promise; that is, not on November-December 2002 Armstron~ " Lonel~ and Small the already but on the notyet. It is the latter that witnesses to the religious life's prophetic mission. A supervisory role, even though indirect and informal, would then seem to fall to the worship-ing community at large. Vowed religious would be accountable to the whole body for living up to the promises they made and thereby helping the entir

Part one of an interview with Joseph Addante. Topics include: Joseph's family history. His parents were separated during WWI and reunited in Fitchburg, MA. The birth of Joseph's siblings and Joseph (he was the youngest). Catholic education. Americanization classes taught by Margaret Kelty. Speaking English and Italian. His father's experience trying to bring his mother (Joseph's grandmother) to the United States. Visiting relatives in Italy. How his father came to the United States. Family political differences in Italy. The villages in Italy where his parents grew up. The work his father did as a shoemaker in Italy and in Fitchburg. ; 1 SPEAKER 1: The Center for Italian Culture at Fitchburg State College, the [unintelligible - 00:00:06] project. It's Tuesday September 4th 9:30, 9:45 am. Our first interviewee is Joe Addante at his home at 535 South Street Number 22-2. Thanks Joe for taking time again to talk with me. I was hoping that you could give me some biographical information, specifically when you were born. What your birth name is. I was wondering is it Joseph or is it Giuseppe? JOE ADDANTE: I was born on the 25th of August in 1926 at 2:00 a.m. in the morning, by my father's little log that I found. They named me Joseph Bartholomew Addante; Bartholomew because the 24th of August is the big feast day in my father's village. There's a church that was built in 1100 or 1200 and it's a historical site in that area. And that's how I got the name: Joseph from my father, and Bartholomew from the feast day. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. JOE ADDANTE: Uh, I was born in Fitchburg. I was the fourth child that my parents had. They had one in Italy that my father never saw again, that died when he was three or four years old. My mother and father were separated for 10 years because of World War I. My mother rejoined my father in 1920 in Fitchburg, and in 1922 my sister Mary was born, '23 my sister Rose was born. And three years later a son was born, which was a source of joy to my dad. And we grew up together. Uh, also living with us were my two uncles for a number of years, because they had come also from Italy. And I jokingly say I grew up with three fathers, my uncle Rocco and my uncle Dominic. Rocco has a son Rocco Jr., and Uncle Dominic remained a bachelor and was never married. Um, from there we lived on the Water Street lane, which was part of what was called "The Patch" in those days. I attended St. Bernard Grammar school, which was a Catholic parochial school for St. Bernard Parish. However, since my father's brother was a Franciscan priest, he was anxious for us to have a Roman 2 Catholic education. And being acquainted with Monsignor Donnelly, who was pastor of St. Bernard at that time, we were given the privilege of attending the quote unquote Irish parochial school. I graduated grammar school there, then I attended St. Bernard, which then became the Central Catholic High School, graduating in 1944. SPEAKER 1: Okay. I was hoping that you could go back a little bit. Last week when I was here… JOE ADDANTE: Yes. SPEAKER 1: You mentioned something about your mom and dad; your father had to wait nearly 10 years to bring your mother over. Is… did I hear that correctly? JOE ADDANTE: Yes, well, when my mother arrived of course the family started. And as I said, my sisters were born and so was I. My recollection of my early childhood goes back to about 1931 or '30 when I was probably five or six years old. My recollection is going to Americanization classes with my mother. Uh, these were held at what was the Registry of Motor Vehicles building, and the upstairs was sort of a classroom hall kind of arrangement where classes were given in English for immigrants, and also Americanization, which in today's terminology would be called Instructions for Assimilation. Very interesting, because the woman that taught this was Margaret [Kelty]. Margaret [Kelty] was a legend in her own time. Probably one of the most foremost people in adult education in the United States by the time she died. I remember fondly her talking about the 500 Basic English words – which I wonder why they can't be used today – done by some professor from England that came over here. She adopted that technique, and with the use of these 500 words apparently one could communicate and get along. 3 But above and beyond that, Margaret was a genuinely helpful person. She was the daughter of a pharmacist who had a drugstore in the area and in his time had learned to speak Italian to better serve his Italian-American clientele. Margaret has sort of been a legend in the memory of most of us in that particular period of history. She and her sister were always a helpful part of the community and probably helped bridge the differences between the Italian community, if you will, and the Irish community at a time when some saw the Italian movement as a quote unquote Latin invasion. Also at that time there were other people who were quite helpful to the Italian community. Miss [Courtney] and her sister, they were schoolteachers, and of course in those days they were unmarried. And also there was a Mary [Bartley] who was the principal of the Nolan School. These people all had a meaningful role and a large role in helping the Italo-Americans, or the newly arrived Italian immigrants, to get adjusted to the American way of life, learning the language and the expressions, and also sort of acted as a bridge in many cases between them and their Irish neighbors. SPEAKER 1: So how old were you when you remember going to these Americanization classes? JOE ADDANTE: Probably between five years old, six years old. Just prior to the first grade, and then also sometimes even after the first grade because some of them were conducted in the evening. SPEAKER 1: Was that your introduction to English, or did you hear it from friends? JOE ADDANTE: Well, we grew up speaking both languages without actually recognizing there was a difference. We spoke Italian at home; spoke English with our friends without even giving it a thought, frankly. Some of our friends who were attending the Immaculate Conception School had to learn French because the classes were conducted in French in those days. And some of 4 them grew up speaking English, Italian from home, and French from school, which became an advantage to them. SPEAKER 1: But prior to school you were probably living in an Italian neighborhood where there was… JOE ADDANTE: There was English spoken. My father, bear in mind my father had been 10 years before my mother had arrived. He had already become, I believe, a citizen. And he ran a checkbook, ran a business and spoke English in a very passable way, so that he did speak quite a bit of English at home in addition to Italian, hopefully encouraging my mother in her English, which she picked up very readily and read almost all the novels of those days, the classics. I remember her reading to me from Les Misérables in English, which I had forgotten until I saw the play in London and it all came back to me. Yeah. So my father was a very – and mother both, they were very literate people and they loved…they had read many of the classics in Italian and were sort of rediscovering them in English. SPEAKER 1: So tell me more. I tried to ask you this just a few minutes ago but your father, how he tried to get your mother to America and he had some sort of resistance or some… JOE ADDANTE: No. No. That was his mother. My father had no problem in those days getting his wife over here. But at the end of World War II my father had a love for bringing back his mother to this country, because he and both my uncles could have taken care of her very easily. But in going through the immigration papers it became complicated, and it dragged out. And my grandmother died in Italy without ever having seen her son again, and I never got to know her. And my father lost interest and decided never to return to Italy. It was a sad thing, because I had kind of hoped to go with him. In fact the first thing I did, meaningful thing, after his death was to go to Italy and to find out where his sister was, and my uncles, and the village and the home where he, the house where 5 he was born. And I have visited several times since. And I managed to bring my Franciscan uncle to this country for two visits, and so I began to bridge the communications between the cousins and uncles and aunts and that sort of thing. SPEAKER 1: So did Dominic or Rocco ever go back to Italy? JOE ADDANTE: Yes, my uncle Rocco went back in 1937, was married, and he had the same sad experience my father had. He was separated from his wife for 10 years until the end of World War II. When she came here then his son was born, Rocco. My uncle Dominic managed to go back a couple of times because he wanted to visit his sister, who was alive then, and his brother, which he did; then that was his last visit. SPEAKER 1: Okay. Now your father, how may siblings did he have? He had three brothers and… JOE ADDANTE: My father was from a family of 10 children. I think there were seven survivors: my father and his sister and three brothers that I knew, and another sister that I never knew but I met her children, and another sister that I never knew that survived to adulthood, if you will, you know. SPEAKER 1: And their names? JOE ADDANTE: Oh. SPEAKER 1 Do you remember them? JOE ADDANTE: My father's name was Joseph, his sister's name was Agatha, who was an extremely lucky woman in the very early days survived a double mastectomy and lived to be 85 or 86 years of age. SPEAKER 1: In the old country? JOE ADDANTE: In the old country, so it was done back in the days when surgery was primitive by today's standards. Then there was my uncle Rocco, was next. And I think there are a couple of sisters in between. One was [Anina]. To go down the list there was my father, Agatha, I think [Anina], Rocco, and then there was another sister whose name I don't remember, then my uncle 6 Dominic, and then my uncle Francesco who became the Franciscan. That I recall in the names and a couple others. SPEAKER 1: So I read somewhere that in the old days that a lot of marriages were arranged, but your father wished to choose his own wife? JOE ADDANTE: My father was a very independent person. He chose his own wife in a very romantic way and courted her with poetry. My father had a poetic flair. And I think he passed it on to his children, because we all love poetry. But the one problem was that they were of opposite political parties in their families. And my father's main reason for leaving Italy was not so much the opportunity, because he was a craftsman. He made handmade shoes and there was always a lot of work for him. So rather than stay home and get involved in squabbles, he left. He wrote to a friend of his who was in Maine. And the friend never answered but just sent him a ticket. I think it was a $35 steerage ticket in those days. My dad arrived in this country in 1910 and never went back. He landed in Boston, not Ellis Island. And then from there he went to Connecticut and got work with the railroad, because there were some Italian men that would take care of him as far as the language was concerned, while he was trying to learn English. And he stayed there for about three months. And they had an Italian daily newspaper in those days published in Italian for the immigrants. There were many such newspapers just like the Finnish [Raivaaja Press] here. There was an ad in the paper by a shoemaker in Fitchburg by the name of [Sisino], who was looking for a shoemaker. So my dad came to Fitchburg and he was here till he died. He worked for about four months with this man and because he could not arrange to have his evenings off to go to night school to learn English, he quit the job because his primary interest was in learning English. He got another job working at one of the 7 mills; I think the [Beuline] Mill was the name of it. And he worked there for a short period of time, finally saved enough to get a little shop started. And by 1912 he was able to send for his brother to help him in the business. And by 1915 he had bought a building of his own. Tried to send for my mother, World War I broke out and that became an impossibility until the 1920s when my mother and my other Uncle Dominic came together from Italy. SPEAKER 1: Mm-hmm. Now, what about the political party? Can you tell me more about – he didn't want to become involved in any squabbles in Italy and that his wife… JOE ADDANTE: Yeah, my father was not much of a political animal. He saw politics for what it was, in many ways, but not a very… in his mind a very constructive thing anyway. More than that I never heard. I guess he did like my uncle. My mother's brother was a very political person and very active. And I think the… if there was any antagonism it was between my mother's brother and my father's family, if you will, being opposing political persuasions. Whether it was conservative or liberal in those days I don't know. I never really got a handle on it. But my uncle Luigi, my mother's brother, was mayor of three villages at the same time. Because, you know, you had to be a property owner in order to run for political office and you had to be a property owner before you could vote. It was a democracy, but it was a selective democracy in those days. But he was very active, and his wife had died with only one surviving child after having gone through many pregnancies. So it was he and his daughter who actually grew up with my mother as a sister, although she was a niece, because my uncle was the oldest and my mother was the youngest of a large family; but they were the only two survivors. In those day that was not uncommon. And Giovannina, who was my mother's cousin, was almost like her sister and they grew up together 8 and they used to communicate a lot. But then my mother joined my dad here in 1920. But the political thing was not something that my father was interested in and he just got away from it. I think that is the best thing he did because he thoroughly enjoyed this country. SPEAKER 1: Now his wife, your mother, was from the same small village? JOE ADDANTE: Oh yes, they were practically across-the-street neighbors. I mean, the village today has only a population of about 1000. And in those days it was probably a little bigger because they had larger families, and it was mainly an agricultural village to begin with. It is now still slightly agricultural but more on a hobby basis and it has become the weekend place for those that grew up in the village and sought work in the cities nearby. And they go back there on weekends and they fixed up the maternal and paternal homes into the weekend places to rest and enjoy. It's very interesting what they've done with the village, because it has become a very pretty, enjoyable place, because there is very little work being done there except a few tomato plants here and there, and olive trees and that sort of thing. SPEAKER 1: Tell us the name of the village. JOE ADDANTE: The name of the village is [Carpineto Sulla Nora] because it's on the [Nora] River and it's in the province of [Piscada], which is on the Adriatic side of Italy and it is basically central Italy; almost directly East of Rome. SPEAKER 1: Okay. And what region would that be? JOE ADDANTE: That would be [Abruzzi], is the province. The [regione] is province. It is [Piscada]. They refer to their states as regions and then what we call counties they call provinces. SPEAKER 1: Right, so the region is… JOE ADDANTE: And what we call counties they call parishes. [La Paroche de]… SPEAKER 1: Okay.9 JOE ADDANTE: Yeah. SPEAKER 1: So your father, he learned the craft from his father? JOE ADDANTE: From his father, who had learned it from his father. No, but my father was actually apprenticed out, and he had to serve a three-year apprentice in order to be a master craftsman in those days. And he had to live and became almost like an indentured servant when you were an apprentice. You lived away from home, you lived with the master, and after the three years you came back home and you were considered a guild member kind of thing. SPEAKER 1: Where was he sent? Do you know? JOE ADDANTE: Probably 20 miles away. And I never got the name of the town. The only thing I ever heard was he did not enjoy the meals because they weren't like his mothers. [Laughter] SPEAKER 1: They never are. Now, why would your father not have learned from his father? JOE ADDANTE: It just wasn't done. It wasn't done in terms of you wouldn't be recognized as a true craftsman if you learned from your father. Although my father did teach his brothers, but that's the way it was done, and it cost money. He had to pay for it, and it was sort of a tuition, if you will. And that was done mainly for shoemakers, tailors, cabinetmakers, bearing in mind in those days you could not go out and buy finished furniture that easily, or even caskets for the dead. You know, these people had the cabinetmakers. My mother would tell me that they would have coffins half finished and they would just finish them for the day of the funeral. SPEAKER 1: Okay. JOE ADDANTE: Shoes had to be made, my father would actually go out to these large estates where they had tenant farmers and that sort of thing and they would make shoes for everybody there. They would stay probably a week. They would make 10 or 15 pairs of shoes and repair their saddles and all leatherwork. It was a whole kind of activity. And they would do that for 50 or 60 10 miles around. Very interesting kind of… they would go, they'd pack their tools, pack a mule, go off and get this work done and come back. SPEAKER 1: Did they work on the leather itself? JOE ADDANTE: Oh yes. They didn't tan it; they bought tanned leather. But then they would start from scratch. They made their own patterns, their own lasts, they did their own measurements. It was incredible. My father could look at a foot and with a piece of tape he would make a last to make a shoe. But that's the way they were trained, you know. SPEAKER 1: Now, did he continue doing that when he came here? Did it change much? JOE ADDANTE: When he came here the polio was a very prevalent problem, and he made a lot of shoes for polio victims, or he modified a lot of shoes. Then he got into the actual shoe repairing. In fact I, much of that influence rubbed off of me and I got interested in being a podiatrist because of that. I could see him put lifts on shoes. I remember I made my first pair of shoes with my dad when I was about nine or 10 years old, helping him out and learning how to do it. I sort of grew up with it. And my uncles worked with him and then we had three shoe repair shops going at one time. My dad also wholesaled leather and heels, and nails, and stitching material for the shoes. He became a finder. So he covered the whole gamut of the shoe thing. SPEAKER 1: Just so we can record this, tell me what the process was that you remember. For example, when someone wanted a pair of shoes they would come and see your father or his brothers and…? JOE ADDANTE: The first thing they would do is have them stand up on a piece of paper and they would outline the foot. And then – and my dad did this without half the education I had in terms of this. But he says, "You know, when you put the weight on the foot that is the real size." And he would measure this out. Then he would measure the girth of the foot, just like the waist of a11 body, around the foot. Then he'd also measure around the ankle and he got these measurements. Then if he had a ready-made last, he could use that. If he didn't he'd have to make one or modify one, because he had certain basic ones that had been pre-made, because manufactured lasts began to come out. They were made in [Lynn], Mass. In fact [Lynn] was apparently the foundation of the shoe trade in the United States. Then he would modify that. Then he would proceed to make a pattern of the leather and the lining. Now this was done in our living room, if you called it that. My father had this sewing machine, and this is where we could cut the patterns out and then assemble the upper of the shoe, and then he'd put it on the last. Now, putting that on the last, you cut off an insole that you put on the bottom of the last which would be the sole, the bottom of the foot. Then the leather was drawn over that. Then it was stitched and a welt was put on, called a Goodyear welt because that was an American process. And it was stitched by hand, and then to that was fastened the sole. And that was the intriguing part, because when you had a polio victim one foot usually was, or one leg would be shorter than the other, or sometimes you had to put a weight because as a shriveled-up limb, as a result of the polio, would not grow unless it was pulled on. So by adding weight to the shoe, as the youngsters would try to run it would pull on that leg and encourage a little extra growth. And I remember weighing those things and they were half a pound, or a pound or three pounds, whatever it was, to try to bring that leg to its fullest capacity, even though it had been affected by the polio.12 So there were a lot of interesting little details involved, but that is basically it. And then though we put the eyelets on, there was a machine that put the eyelets and laces and sometimes we had to cut laces and cut a special tip on, because on some of these patients they had a higher type of shoe: sort of a semi-boot like a trucker boot effect to hold it on a shriveled limb. SPEAKER 1: Were there different styles that people could choose from? JOE ADDANTE: Not as it is today. Far from it. Far from it. In fact, I remember the transitional period when shoes went from being nailed to being stitched. Because they would use little tacks, the old tacking shoemaker. When the machines came in, I think my dad was one of the first ones to have an electric stitching machine in New England. And other people who did shoes in the area would bring them to him. They'd do everything else but stitch them, and he would stitch them on the machine and he got a fee for stitching these shoes for them. SPEAKER 1: Where did he buy that machine? JOE ADDANTE: He couldn't buy it. SPEAKER 1: Oh, he had to… JOE ADDANTE: He couldn't buy it. He had to get it from the Goodyear stitching company and there was a royalty, there was actually a stitch meter. And you paid by the stitch. They would come and read the meter. And in fact his company, the Goodyear stitching company, not the rubber company, they actually were sued after World War II. It went that long before people were allowed to buy them because it was considered a monopoly and they were cracked. But the insidious part of it all, which was very unfair, following World War I they started making these machines. They were on royalty in this country, but they were being sold overseas, so that the overseas shoemakers began to compete with ours in a very unfair way, because the foreign laws did not protect the copyright, the patent laws that we have here. That was an interesting… SPEAKER 1: Must be. So how was it that your father was given this? 13 JOE ADDANTE: Well, he read about it and decided he needed one. He was sort of an avant-garde kind of person anyway. He got it. He had to pay for it. He couldn't own it outright. You had to buy it but then you have to pay the royalty on it, so it was a two-way hook-up, you know [laughter]. SPEAKER 1: So was he…did he follow…did he do each step of the shoe or did he do some of it and then handed it over to his brothers, or…? JOE ADDANTE: Well, they all did. They worked together. SPEAKER 1: They worked together? JOE ADDANTE: They worked independently, and they worked together. And sometimes it would be like a little mass production line on a small scale. One would do one and one would do the other, depending what they were doing that day. And of course to run these machines, you had to heat them up. They were gas fired because rosin was in there and rosin had to be… you had to melt the rosin till it was soft, because when the thread went through there to give it strength, it was dipped in and out of the rosin. So they didn't run that stitcher every day. They would run it like three times a week. So the other days would be in preparation for that. Much like the old tailors did when they had the steam presses. They would get all their work done, and they would press on Tuesdays and Thursdays, or Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I used to see that in the neighboring tailor's shop. That was an interesting experience, too./AT/ca/sg

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

Interview with Mary Anne Taylor and Rosemary Mazzaferro Pepin. Topics include: Memories of their grandmothers. Their parents spoke Italian. The difference between children in Italy today and children in the United States. Living close to family. The work Mary Anne and Rosemary do. What their mother is like. Italian food and cooking. Faith and going to church with their families. The importance of education, getting good grades, and going to college. Mary Ann and Rosemary went to Holy Cross. The differences in how Mary Ann and Rosemary were raised compared to their brothers. The support of their parents. Memories from living on Central Street. Growing up with their cousins nearby. What their Italian heritage means to them. The immediate impact of September 11th. Mary Anne's hair accessory business. Their parents' strong work ethic. ; 1 INTERVIEWER: …with the Center for Italian Culture at 12:55. And [unintelligible - 00:00:10] at their parents' house at 575 West Street. If you could just tell me your names, just so I can make sure this is being recorded. ROSE MARY: Rose Mary Peppin. MARYANNE: Maryanne Taylor. INTERVIEWER: Okay, now it's working. I'll be asking questions. MARYANNE: 'Cause I don't know what this is about… INTERVIEWER: Now, I'd like to -- I'll go out with, first of all, tell me a little about you grandparents if you remember them at all. MARYANNE: The only ones we could remember is our grandmothers. Both are grandfathers were passed on before we were born. Our grandmothers were elderly when we were small, right. So as far as I remember, my grandmother, my father's mother, [unintelligible - 00:00:57], she stayed at home and she cooked and took care of her family, and it was the same with my mother's mother, Carmela Guglielmi. She did pretty much the same thing. INTERVIEWER: Yeah. Were they living close by to each other? Or… ROSE MARY: My dad's mother, [unintelligible - 00:01:18], she lived not far from Saint Andrew's Church. And [unintelligible - 00:01:24] about her because she passed on when I was… MARYANNE: I was eight. ROSE MARY: So I was like six. I just remember her being in the kitchen and just kind of stirring things around. I don't really have a great recollection… MARYANNE: She used to make Italian cookies. That's the one thing I remember about her. She always made the best. And she always had [unintelligible - 00:01:49] or very often when we came to visit. INTERVIEWER: Do you remember [unintelligible - 00:01:53]?2 ROSE MARY: They spoke English, but they spoke Italian with their children. They spoke English to use, but they didn't speak it very well. A bit of a broken English. Not extremely, but -- and Italian accent. MARYANNE: Broken English for sure with dad's mother is what I would always remember, and pretty good [unintelligible - 00:02:15]. ROSE MARY: Right. They would always speak Italian to each other when they didn't want us to know what they were talking about. We remember that. Do you remember that? MARYANNE: I remember that. INTERVIEWER: Your parents would speak Italian, in the house with the kids? MARYANNE: I don't remember that. But I remember with their friends that were Italian, and again, if they were explaining something that was not for the kids' ears, they would get into Italian. ROSE MARY: They would speak Italian with their parents but not with us. And not with each other, I don't think. Not with their brothers and sisters. They spoke English. INTERVIEWER: Do you ever wish that you had learned? ROSE MARY: Definitely. I have learned a little bit of Italian myself. MARYANNE: I did learn a little bit myself also. ROSE MARY: I spent a couple of years living in Italy. And so -- and at that time I could speak Italian. Not fluently, but enough to get by. But that was in the early '80s, and because nobody speaks Italian, I have forgotten just about everything. But I do very much wish that I had Italian. I'm in touch with my Italian relatives in Italy. A lot of them speak English because they learned it in school, but it would be nice to be able to speak Italian to them also. It would be easier to communicate. INTERVIEWER: Why did you live in Italy? ROSE MARY: Well, my ex-husband was in the military. He was in the Navy, and we were stationed there for two and a half years. So we were stationed in Naples, Italy. So at that time I spent a lot of time 3 visiting relatives. And I got to know them and maintain those friendships right up to today. Last summer, my son and I—my son just turned 14—we went to visit with them. And the neat thing about it is that it is hard to keep in touch with people that live in Italy because the long distance phone calls and everything. But now because of email, my son, who is 14, has a teenage cousin over there that they can email each other back and forth, and it's no more expensive than talking with your friends through email. And they can communicate on all different levels. Some of them are very good with English. Some of them are really struggling, but they all study it in school. So they are able to communicate. It's a little strained with some of them because they really have to think about what they want… INTERVIEWER: What were the years that you lived in Italy? ROSE MARY: It was 1982 to 1985. INTERVIEWER: Getting back to your son, and we will get back to the other things, I'm sorry but, your 14-year-old son. Do you see any differences between him and… ROSE MARY: The ones that live in Italy? Yes, I do. Maybe actually I don't. In some ways I think that their families are a lot closer there. I mean, we have a close family, but I think that -- for example all the cousins in Rome, they all live very close to each other, and they want to be that way. None of them want to leave Rome. They all want to be with their family and live near the family. Whereas I think these kids, they want to go off to college, they want to go live somewhere else, they want to experience things that are away. Other than that they seem very similar in a lot of ways in that they love the same things. They love rock music, they love going to the beach, they love going to the clubs, you know. 4 A lot of the Italian kids listen to American music. So they have that in common. Video games, they play video games. They have a lot of things in common. There is not drinking age in Italy. And according to all my Italian relatives there is no problem with alcohol. Alcoholism is rare in Italy. And kids wanting to drink, they are able to drink. They are able to go to bars from their early teens, pre-teens, and they aren't that interested in drinking. But they may order a drink at the age of 14 or 15 but they don't get drunk. And we did go to bars when we were visiting them last summer. They were all about the same age 14, 15, 16 to 18, and they would order a drink or two drinks at a bar, but they would never get drunk. INTERVIEWER: What about your son? ROSE MARY: My son isn't really interested in drinking. He's, you know, like I said, he just turned 14, so he was actually only 13 last summer. He would try them, just take a taste, to have the taste of the Italian liquor that, you know, we can't get here, but that's all. He wasn't really interested in drinking. He is still very young for that. MARYANNE: Something that you mentioned about the kids now, with your son and the numerous [unintelligible - 00:07:17] to my parents. I think what you said about them wanting to go experience new things, I think college and then, you know, look for different jobs than we are, I didn't have any interest in being back in Leominster. I wanted to, you know, live elsewhere and just from where college took me to different jobs. And then just 10 years later, I am back in Leominster, and you know, just the way things happened. And then, and you look at and you value the families more, I think when you do have kids. And I think with my mother and father it was just totally different world then, but they -- just the way things happened, Leominster boy meets Fitchburg girl, and they marry, 5 and everyone is from the same area. So I think that's just the change… INTERVIEWER: What do you think is the stimulus for that? MARYANNE: Education. I think the opportunity you can do whatever… ROSE MARY: And also, I think that the generation that is growing up right now [unintelligible - 00:08:22] our generation is more like my parents' generation. For example, my mother's family, my mother has three sisters and herself. She's the one that moved farthest away, moving from Fitchburg to Leominster. But her sister, one of her sisters never got married and stayed right in the house and still lives there today. You know, she has been living in the same house for 70 something years. Her other sister moved next door, built a house next door. Her other sister moved just up the street. My father's side the same way. His father and mother had a house. One of his brothers moved next door. One of his brothers moved behind the house, and the others were all kind of in the area. And the people seem to be like that still. They get married but they just move very close by. In fact, my cousins in Italy -- I don't work, we have a big family business with the plastic factory. I don't work in the family business. And my cousins in Italy had a hard time understanding that. Why, because when there is a family business in Italy, the whole family works in the family business, and it doesn't make sense to work somewhere else. They couldn't, you know -- it's a different kind of thinking. They couldn't understand that oh, well I want to do something different. INTERVIEWER: Did your parents? ROSE MARY: Oh, yes. They don't have any problem with it. Like my sister just said, she never even thought that she would come back and work in the family business. And it wasn't really a thought that we had to work in the family business growing up. We could do whatever 6 we wanted. But in Italy it's just more expected that you work in the family business. They still have that kind of thinking, I think, that, you know, they're all tied up with their families and all working together, all living close by each other. INTERVIEWER: How is it that you both ended up back in Leominster even though you didn't foresee that? MARYANNE: I went out to college and then got a journalism degree in Chicago. And then from that I was looking for jobs in the newspaper industry, and the job I got took me to Florida. So I lived in Florida for about three years and got a little discouraged with that just because of the -- it just wasn't a great fit for what I wanted to do, and the pay was not very good in Florida and also in the newspaper industry. So I started doing different sales jobs. And so I did that for a while, and then my mother was calling and saying come back, come back, and I just was -- I was happy there; I just wanted to experience life outside of the area. But then my brother, who was actually working in the family business, he was saying we really need some help in the family business doing sales. And so I thought about it and thought about the climate, because also the Florida heat was not grand. I did like the skiing and all that, so I just, I came back at that point and lived in different, lived in the area, and then lived in the Boston area for a little bit. And that's how I came back. INTERVIEWER: So then you ended up marrying someone? MARYANNE: Actually, I married someone from, who grew up in Westborough, Mass. We just met at a local health club. And we just were friends and then we got married and ended up finding a house in Leominster. And now, I actually -- well, now I don't really work in the family business, but I used to be part of it, and I bought part of the business, and it's a hair accessory business. And then -- so 7 that's still based in Leominster and is -- because it's tied into plastics, and I used [unintelligible - 00:12:12] some of the products so it just made sense that I'm here and being now 40. But even at 30 I could just see the benefit of Leominster, the town of Leominster, versus living in Boston with the traffic and all that. And it's a nice place to raise kids. So that's why I'm back here. That's the long story. INTERVIEWER: Does your husband work in the business? MARYANNE: Right before the birth of my second child he left his job to work with me, which -- it would have been a hell of a business because I couldn't do it with two kids and using daycare as we wanted, limited daycare. So he did join the business, and now the two of us are together. It's called Good Hair Days, Incorporated. INTERVIEWER: I love that name. Who thought up that name? Did you think of that name? MARYANNE: Yes. It's six years old now, and it started in 1996. INTERVIEWER: How did you end up back in Leominster? ROSE MARY: It was really just kind of by chance. I did want to come back to New England because I live in different places that didn't have any seasons. I loved the change of seasons in New England. And I just wanted to come back to New England, and it just turned out that it was convenient to live in Leominster. You know, the housing market at that time was good for me. One I got settled in, I just didn't move. INTERVIEWER: Were you still married at that time? ROSE MARY: At that time I was still married. Yes. But not now. Though it kind of worked out for me to stay in Leominster. I mean, I had a very small child, a one-year-old, on my own, so it did help to be around family. INTERVIEWER: And what business are you in? You're in real estate?8 ROSE MARY: I'm in real estate. Real estate broker, and -- no, I don't. I work at the Boss realty group in Leominster. INTERVIEWER: What's the name of it? ROSE MARY: Boss, B-O-S-S. That's my life in English, certified to be a high school, English teacher. But I haven't done it. I've actually done teaching when I was in Italy. In fact I taught English as a second language at the adult night school, which is a very fun job. When I came back here I was actually going to go into teaching, but at that time I was starting to go on my own at that time, so I went into something else where I could make a little more money. INTERVIEWER: Thought of the plastics industry? ROSE MARY: Yeah, I thought of it. I did work for a little while in it, when my son was young, but it's just not something I wanted to stay with. And I do like what I do. And it's working out well for me. INTERVIEWER: In fact, you invest in real estate property. ROSE MARY: Right. Mainly I do real estate investments. I do brokerage also but mainly I do investing. And it's been working out very well, so. I'm my own boss, which I really like. You know, I do work for a company, but as a broker you're an independent contractor, so you do your own thing pretty much, your own hours, things like that. INTERVIEWER: Your family rarely spoke about your father's mother. What can you remember about your mother's mother? ROSE MARY: Mother's mother was living until we were well into our twenties, probably mid or late twenties. 1983 is when she passed away. [Unintelligible - 00:15:32] MARYANNE: We visited, and she used to come around. She had a lot of energy, like my mother, is what I remember. Going to the Cape house, a weekend on the Cape. And I can remember going shopping. We were teenagers or adults or something, and it would be my mother, my mother's mother, and, you know, several kids. And I can 9 remember my grandmother just wearing everybody out shopping. She kept going and going. ROSE MARY: She loved to shop. MARYANNE: Picking out for her, however many grandkids she had. She just, would keep shopping. ROSE MARY: Going and going. MARYANNE: [Unintelligible - 00:16:15] Christmas tree shops and wherever else and just shop. And also she would always, whenever we visited, she would have Stella Doro cookies, and we had to take them home. No matter if we were on diets. ROSE MARY: She loved us like that. MARYANNE: You gotta eat. You gotta eat, and that's the way my mother is, too, with us, I can remember. And now with our kids, trying to eat lunch, early supper. ROSE MARY: Very religious, she went to mass every day, which my mother does now too, every morning. She would walk to church all the way up until she was well into her mid to late eighties. She would walk to church. INTERVIEWER: And what street was that that they lived on? ROSE MARY: She lived on Belmont Street, and she would walk down to Saint Anthony's Church. Actually, one year she did fall and break her hip on it. But she -- we used to visit her every Sunday. It was a regular routine every Sunday. We would go to church and then we would visit the grandmothers. One or the other or both. INTERVIEWER: Would she have a big dinner for all of you? ROSE MARY: There would be a lot of food and she would love to feed us. She would just keep offering food. And I remember one occasion when my brothers decided they wouldn't say no, they would just keep eating everything that was offered. MARYANNE: I think I remember that.10 ROSE MARY: And she never stopped offering and they just kept eating. I don't know how it finally stopped. They just couldn't do it anymore or something, but she was like that. INTERVIEWER: What was the relationship like between your mother and your grandmother? MARYANNE: They visit each other like once a week. I don't remember if they did talk every day. ROSE MARY: Yeah, they would. You know, that's what I recall, my mother calling at least every day on the phone. INTERVIEWER: Do you have any similarities between the relationship with your mother that she had with hers? ROSE MARY: Yes. Yeah. I say I see a lot of similarities between the way my mother is and her mother is. They both go to church every day, every morning. My mother, you know, they like to tell you how to raise the kids and that kind of thing. And her mother would do that to her. And Ma will do that to us, shoes and those kinds of thing. And my diet and the children's bedtime. All those things, you know. Not in a bad way. Same kind of thing. I think the grandmothers, they like to tell their daughters how to, the best way to raise their kids. MARYANNE: I've had -- you've had 14 years with it. My kids are young, 18 months and three, so. ROSE MARY: Oh, when they're little, I guess. Not as much now. And my [unintelligible - 00:19:07] loves to cook. Every time the kids come in she cooks. It doesn't matter what time it is. She gives them food, she feeds them. You know, feeding them all the time is a really important thing. Especially when they were little. She always had food for them, made a lot of pasta for them. There was always a lot of pasta when we were visiting our grandmother's. And there's a lot for our kids. 11 INTERVIEWER: [Unintelligible - 00:19:35] have you tried to keep up that tradition? ROSE MARY: A little bit. Not like my mother. My mother does cook Italian food. And her mother cooked Italian food… MARYANNE: I know my mother has a meatball recipe that was given to me, and I made it. ROSE MARY: And lasagna recipes. MARYANNE: I know that Nana Mazzaferro had some kind of Italian soup that is a combination of everything [unintelligible - 00:20:02]. My father's sister has that recipe, and she makes it now and then. ROSE MARY: [Unintelligible - 00:20:10] we've taken, and [unintelligible - 00:20:12]. And I love Italian. A lot of the foods that I -- I've actually learned to cook some Italian food when I was in Italy, from my cousins, actually, or just from people that I knew. And I do have those recipes at home. And a lot of the Italian food that you can get in Italy are ingredients, you can't find them here. So, I do try to carry on, I mean, just because I enjoy it. Not really for the sake of the tradition, but I do enjoy the food. You can't, you have to go to the north end, in Boston, to find them, some of the ingredients. [Unintelligible - 00:20:51] I don't know if you ever heard of that. But that's hard to find. INTERVIEWER: What other kinds of traditions to do you try to carry on? What about church? ROSE MARY: I'm not really a regular, but you know, we do try. MARYANNE: [Unintelligible - 00:21:12] about getting there. But you know, we talk about God and Jesus. But they're only… she's only three and one and a half. So one and a half. INTERVIEWER: Whether or not you go to church, that's kind of irrelevant? ROSE MARY: Oh yes, yes. Faith is important. MARYANNE: I believe in God and I believe in teaching them about that.12 ROSE MARY: We would say our prayers every night before going to bed, and I carry that on with my son. Even at 14 he says his prayers every night. You know, we do have faith. A lot of activities. MARYANNE: I remember as a kid growing up that whenever we had -- our cousins would attend, I'd say, my mother -- when we were little I see movies. They were big movie takers, my parents, it seems. The birthday parties were celebrated. And I think we try to do that now with the grandkids. But as they get older they don't want a birthday party, so that's understandable. But for the young ones we still do get together. MARYANNE: As they get older they just want to have birthday parties with their friends. When they were little they all, we all, had birthday parties and we'd all attend. All the aunts, uncles, cousins, so. INTERVIEWER: While you were in school did she work outside of the home? ROSE MARY: Probably when we all reached about junior high school level, and not when we were in elementary school. But she worked with my father in the family business, the plastics business. That's mainly what she did. MARYANNE: I think when I was around 14 or so I think is when she went to college for the first time. So she started studying. Even as we were young kids, babies and all, she would help my dad with any of the accounting business, and just doing some paperwork after the kids were in bed. ROSE MARY: She helped my father all along. She would do paperwork and things on a fulltime basis. Once we got to the junior high school level, and then like you said, when we even got just a little bit older she went back to college. INTERVIEWER: Tell me about that, her going back to college. MARYANNE: I thought it was great. It was something that she wanted to do, and I thought it was great.13 ROSE MARY: Yeah, we thought it was something she always wanted was a college degree, and she was finally able to do it. We were all old enough to take care of us once in a while. We were all in high school. I was in high school at the time. My older brothers were in college. It certainly wasn't a burden on us, not that we couldn't get our own meal or do things like that, so. It was her first opportunity to do it. She would fall asleep at the kitchen table, I remember that, studying. MARYANNE: She'd have her book in front of her and be asleep at the kitchen table. She was doing school plus taking care of the household and the kids and all. She knew it was important, so. INTERVIEWER: What kinds of things can you -- college, was it an option? MARYANNA: Good grades or that sort of thing. ROSE MARY: If we fell below As and Bs, if we got Cs, we were, you know, we had to bring them up. We had to bring our grades up. As and Bs were fine, Cs weren't. They didn't make us crazy about it or anything, but you know, we might have to go and go for some extra help to get that C to a B at least, you know. So yeah, it was always very important that we did very well. She would look at our homework. We were all good students on our own pretty much. On our own we did it, I think. But if we were struggling at any subject she would make sure that we would get extra help and get the grade up. But for the most part we were pretty good on our own. College, yeah, college was just kind of automatically we knew we were going. MARYANNE: As long as we tried, and [unintelligible - 00:25:23] remember getting Bs and Cs, but when you are in grammar school, it's no big deal. But we would try and, like she said, we did pretty well. What I remember though, I guess when I became a teenager, I wanted to earn money and was able to work in the family business, and they sent me to work summers in packaging. And when I 14 experienced working in the packaging department it would be assembly line work, doing the same thing eight hours a day, five days a week, all summer long. I was like, "I'm not gonna do this, I'm going to college." That was my understanding. I wasn't going to stop at high school because I didn't want to work in a factory for the rest of my life. That's kind of what stuck in my mind. And then being the fifth, follow the leader kind of, it just was assumed and I wanted to go. But in retrospect I think if I had waited a year that probably would have been real good, try out different jobs and get direction, but then… INTERVIEWER: Did all of you go to Holy Cross. Did I already ask that question? ROSE MARY: Yes, we all did. INTERVIEWER: How did that… ROSE MARY: That's where they really wanted us to go, and we all just went. INTERVIEWER: Oh, because your father went there, right? ROSE MARY: Right. INTERVIEWER: Because I forgot about that. ROSE MARY: Yeah, he went there. And he's still involved in the college, so. I don't exactly know what he is on, but he's on something. MARYANNE: I think just an alumni; I don't know, like, club or something. ROSE MARY: Right, so. That's where they wanted us to go and… MARYANNE: I think it was just always a backup. I think, you know, they really wanted us to go there, but we had other choices. I don't know if in your situation, but when you got into maybe one or two schools… ROSE MARY: I think that my mother probably didn't want us to go to school in Boston. I think that would have been my choice, but she was a little was a little nervous about Boston. So we ended up at Holy Cross in Worcester, so. It really [unintelligible - 00:27:36] old-fashioned Italian. Right, right. They don't want their daughter going off to the big city. But… INTERVIEWER: Were that many other Italians there?15 ROSE MARY: Actually, no. There weren't. It was mainly Irish Catholics. But all Catholic, but Irish. I think I probably was one of the few 100 percent Italian. MARYANNE: I think I generally -- except maybe this area, that there's not a lot of Italians. ROSE MARY: By the time you get to this generation it is kind of unusual to meet someone all Italian. MARYANNE: There are a lot of French Italians in this area. But, college I don't recall anything unique about being Italian in college. There were not Italian clubs or anything like that. ROSE MARY: There were a few Italians there, but I think the majority weren't. But it really didn't matter, you know. It wasn't a problem. INTERVIEWER: So by that generation… ROSE MARY: I don't think so, no. MARYANNE: It is just having a little bit of Italian in you. ROSE MARY: [Unintelligible - 00:28:40] read the Italian menu in the Italian restaurant a little better, but no, I really -- there was really no difference. INTERVIEWER: Was it important to you? ROSE MARY: Yes, that was probably part of the reason we ended up going there. Religion has always been important. My mother's always wanted us to go to Catholic schools. You know, we started out at Catholic elementary school. Couple years there before we went to public junior high school, just because there was no Catholic junior high school. Otherwise we probably would have ended up in a Catholic junior high at that time. Then we went to a Catholic high school and a Catholic college. My mother's the one that had more to do with our education. Definitely, you know, roles, my mother, the kids in the house, my father's role was earning the money. So yes, [unintelligible - 00:29:28] she wanted… MARYANNE: My mother.16 ROSE MARY: My mother, yeah. Probably not because of Italian, just their personalities. You know… MARYANNE: And then just being home, my dad, I just remember him working all the time. ROSE MARY: Right, dad worked a lot. He was always working. So, mom was home. So mom was the one that took care of the kids. You know, made sure the homework was done. Mom was always involved with educations, whereas dad was busy working. Not that education wasn't important to him… it was, but you know, working full time doesn't leave helping kids with their homework and making sure everything gets done. INTERVIEWER: Oh, why? SPEAKER 1: Maybe it was my. INTERVIEWER: Maybe your parents had different goals. Did the children also -- were there big gender differences growing up? ROSE MARY: I think when we were younger I would feel that -- I have three brothers, and I think the girls always have to do the housework. MARYANNE: Setting the table, clearing the table… ROSE MARY: Setting the table, clearing the table, Saturday morning vacuuming, dusting, and my brothers basically didn't have to do any of that. It was just the way it was with my parents. My mother took care of the house. My father took care the outdoors. My brothers had to take the trash out and mow the lawn. But… MARYANNE: Snow blow. ROSE MARY: Snow blow the drive way. They never really did any work indoors. And yeah, I remember I used to feel that it was unfair because we seemed like we had more work to do than they did. But, I mean, they got -- they were raised that way but now that they're older and they're -- they're not that way at all. They do, you know, housework and everything else, but they were raised 17 definitely for the girls to be trained in doing this and the boys to be doing that. INTERVIEWER: [Unintelligible - 00:31:14]. ROSE MARY: No. I only have one son, and I do have him do some cooking so he learns how to cook and he does some housework so he learns how to do housework. He doesn't do a lot. I mean, typical 14-year-old, right? But I do have him do some things so he'll know how to do things when he has to do them on his own. INTERVIEWER: Were their expectations different? ROSE MARY: No, I don't think so. I think we were all expected to get educated, and it just was around the house, I would say that we were definitely doing the housework. The girls, yeah. MARYANNE: Yeah, I agree with that. INTERVIEWER: What about socializing? Could you go out as much or date as much, or…? ROSE MARY: And my brothers, I think there was a lot more protection for us. We weren't allowed to do as much. MARYANNE: You're older and you remember… ROSE MARY: I was the icebreaker… ROSE MARY My older brothers Abel and Tony doing things and probably, you know, wearing down our parents a little bit, and then, you know, the first son does something and the second son wants to do this. But then when the first daughter comes along, she had [unintelligible - 00:32:29], and then by the time I came along it was like, oh okay, you know, it's okay, Maryanne did that and I can do that. But there weren't as many battles for independence. ROSE MARY: But I think when it was my turn I wasn't allowed to do things my brothers got to do at the same age, so. INTERVIEWER: Then to college. Were you expected to do certain things on the weekend? Did you -- were you expected to come home on weekends?18 MARYANNE: No. No. They never expected us to come home on weekends unless we wanted -- stay there and do whatever we want. Go to the sports events. Go to the parties. Socialize. Be involved in whatever. No, there was no pressure to come home. No, there was no pressure to marry an Italian. But I heard my father say once, "It would be nice to have one of my kids marry an Italian." But there was never any pressure. INTERVIEWER: Did that happen? Are there any Italian spouses? No. ROSE MARY: No. No. Not one. Not even part Italian, I don't think. INTERVIEWER: But did you marry in the same religion? MARYANNE: I think yes. For my mother, especially. Yeah. ROSE MARY: That didn't happen either. Not with everybody. Ed's married to a Catholic. Abel's married to a Catholic. I wasn't married to a Catholic. Three out of five. Not bad. INTERVIEWER: Do you find that important to your children to marry the same faith? ROSE MARY: No. I don't think so. I think what's more important to me is that, you know, something that's extremely different would probably be a little difficult for me just because we didn't -- take Christmas. If my son were to marry somebody that, for example, was Jewish, and didn't celebrate Christmas, and you had [unintelligible - 00:34:27] because a lot of people do. They marry somebody who's Jewish, and then he didn't celebrate Christmas anymore. It would be a little difficult, because you know, we enjoy celebrating [unintelligible - 00:34:37] holidays together, and a lot of them are based on the religion—Christmas, Easter and -- so that would be that be a little hard not to be able to celebrate those things with him anymore. But I would accept it, totally accept it if that's what he wanted, if that's what made him happy. 19 MARYANNE: Yeah. I think the person that they marry and the relationship that they have, you know, [unintelligible - 00:34:59] would react today. [Unintelligible - 00:35:03] family together. ROSE MARY: You know, my [unintelligible - 00:35:09] both my parents, you know, it's important. MARYANNE: I think that they supported us a lot. I know just like we supported each other. My brothers were active in sports, and they, you know, basketball. My brothers were in high school, the whole family would go and watch the games and that would happen frequently. They just did that. So we knew that we were important to them. In college they would drive out to the games and try to go watch the games or the games so they could watch their son or daughter. Family just was normal. INTERVIEWER: Because it didn't all get picked up. Just about your parents going to see the games. MARYANNE: With my brothers, and they would just follow the family. If it was a sporting basketball games or football games, they would drive wherever if it was going to Worcester, they would just go and watch, and they did that in college, junior high school, and grammar school and when the kids were young, the kids would go right along. So we were just together as a family. And it was just -- that was normal life for us was to go and watch the brothers and sisters play basketball. ROSE MARY: Plus they treated us all family, so there wasn't -- the family relations were always important, and we were raised and taught that from a very early age: be good to your brother, be good to your sister. Watch out for your sister, you know, watch out for your little brother, whatever, kind of thing, so. INTERVIEWER: Do you feel that's an Italian-related trait? ROSE MARY: Yes, I think so. I mean, not just Italians. I'm sure there's probably lots of groups that, you know, the family is very important. But 20 yeah, I think there are a lot of families that the family is not important at all. But I don't see that that much in Italian families. I see that the family is there. When someone has a problem everybody supports them and helps them out or whatever. And probably when we were growing up, when we were little, you know, Sundays. Sundays, it was the same routine every Sunday. Get up. Go to church. Go out to lunch after church or go to the grandmothers. And that would be the Sunday. But that's when we were little. Then when we get older, everybody's got their own activities, sports events, whatever. So everybody, once we get older, we didn't really have a special family… MARYANNE: While everyone else in was the country, we used to watch Walt Disney. I remember playing cribbage. I'd learned how to play cribbage with my dad and used to on occasion play blackjack with pennies at the kitchen table and the whole family would do that. It all kind of goes by. I mean, it just goes by in a blur. INTERVIEWER: [Unintelligible - 00:38:07] important to your family? ROSE MARY: Yes. My mother wanted us all to learn to play the piano, right? So it was important that we could read music and play an instrument. INTERVIEWER: I got the impression that you quit, maybe? ROSE MARY: Oh, sure. Like every other kid. Actually, I was [unintelligible - 00:38:27] but that's how you feel when you get older, right? MARYANNE: I taught my daughter that. ROSE MARY: I know. Yeah, you can tell your daughter that. MARYANNE: Yeah, and expose her. She wanted to expose us to different things, and my dad also would as we got older, he'd want to take us to a different restaurant, and [unintelligible - 00:38:42] something unusual. Just -- and have a well-rounded background. And always the one thing and then Maryanne and I, we just left them. But we continued with it to the point where we wanted to. It wasn't like they expected us to perform or the same thing with piano. If we 21 had natural ability, great. But there was some exposure. And, you know, I'm glad about that. INTERVIEWER: How did they make each of you feel special? [Unintelligible - 00:39:19] But, I mean, think of it, five kids. ROSE MARY: We used to all feel special. Gee, how did that happen? Well, I think that if we did something that deserved a compliment, we would get a compliment. I don't think that they ever praised us when we didn't deserve any praise, but they would, you know, say things like better, or I would expect something better from you or something like that. MARYANNE: I can just think of some specifics. Just little compliments that when you get to the age that -- and this would be probably in the mid to late ' 60 where my mother had [unintelligible - 00:40:08] home from school and then I could go run to the post office and then she could just drop me off and I'd run do that and say, "Oh, good little helper." INTERVIEWER: But just like little things like that? ROSE MARY: Right. Yeah, little compliments here and there, you know. I always made my bed in the morning and put all my things away. I'd hear, you know, that you're always as neat as a pin, you know, or things like that, just little -- on everyday kind of activities, every day, everyday things. MARYANNE: Didn't realize when it was happening, but now you think back… ROSE MARY: Right. Right. Exactly. You just have to think about what did they do to make me feel special. INTERVIEWER: Can you think of anything. a big event that stands out in your mind? Just little everyday things that add up over time. What's your hardest experience growing up? ROSE MARY: I'm trying to think, my hardest experience. MARYANNE: I have to get going in a short while because I'm away from work.22 INTERVIEWER: Okay. MARYANNE: Is there something that you wanted to ask specifically? INTERVIEWER: I want to ask about Central Street. How long did you live there? ROSE MARY: I was eight when we moved out. MARYANNE: So that was 1960… ROSE MARY: Seven. August of '67 is when we moved here. I remember we had not moved in. I had my 6th birthday party here before we moved in because we moved in, in August, so. MARYANNE: I remember running around in the backyard at Central Street and my aunt lived over the hill in the backyard, and running over there. I don't remember a whole lot being that age. INTERVIEWER: Italians living around here? ROSE MARY: Yeah. I think at that time there were a lot of Italians in that area. And our aunt, again, lived right behind us. And I had a uncle that lived just a little ways across the street, down the street a little bit. I remember a lot about living on Central Street because I was a little bit older. It wasn't like a heart-wrenching thing to move or anything, it was actually a very tiny little house, and my parents [unintelligible - 00:42:17] one child. When they moved out they had five children. INTERVIEWER: So a small… ROSE MARY: It was a very small ranch, and we were very crowded in there. And I can remember my mother just constantly arranging the furniture. Everything was like it happened all the time to me, but it probably didn't happen that often. Just trying to fit things in, you know, having to move the boys to another bedroom, because now there's three boys, and that's what I remember. So it wasn't -- we really needed a bigger house. So when we moved here, it was amazing. This house is three times bigger than the other one, and we had just one bathroom at that house. And there was five children and two adults living there. 23 So we have four bathrooms here. And I remember the first time I went to the bathroom, I had a hard time deciding where to go, which one to use. It was like I never had a choice before. But it wasn't an upsetting event or anything. It wasn't hard. It was really exciting. It was really exciting to move into a bigger house. Maybe I was nine years old when we moved. But I do remember being very crowded at that house. It was a three-bedroom ranch. One bedroom was used as an office for my father because at that time he was doing a lot of CPA work, so it was really just two bedrooms. MARYANNE: And my parent's bedroom was the living room. You walk in the front door and that was their bedroom. ROSE MARY: And my parents used the living room as their bedroom. And my brothers, for a while, they were out on this addition, which was like a porch but it was like a three-season porch. It was heated, but it was my brother's bedroom for a while and then we rearranged the whole house again, and you know… INTERVIEWER: Maybe we don't remember just the feeling that you had living in that neighborhood compared to this. ROSE MARY: Right. MARYANNE: Maybe that house wasn't even built before. I don't know. ROSE MARY: Yeah. I guess I remember that neighborhood really knowing everybody—mom, the kids. I could go door to door there. In this neighborhood, it took a while for meet people, and I didn't know, I don't even know the young people next door, but I might know the people two doors down or three doors down because they had kids. But in that neighborhood, I can remember back to when she was very little and she started to walk, now she must have been one. I can remember taking her for a walk around the whole 24 neighborhood, going from door to door to door, because I knew all the neighbors and showing them her. MARYANNE: I was her baby. ROSE MARY: She was my baby, right, and she was walking. You probably were a year old because it was summertime, and you were born in August. You were probably just a year because I was probably like three and a half, so. And that's the kind of neighborhood it was. I mean, I knew all the mothers. I knew all the kids. It was very safe. Can you imagine letting a three-and-a-half-year-old take a one-year-old for a walk now? But I did. . MARYANNE: There weren't a lot of houses though, I mean, it was… ROSE MARY: No. MARYANNE: It was Basset Street, which was just Aunt Eva's house. ROSE MARY: Right. MARYANNE: I don't know if you know that area, but with the [unintelligible - 00:45:19] is. INTERVIEWER: Your mother took me a long time ago. MARYANNE: It's a very short street, and then there's Christie Street, which probably at the time there was only about six houses on there. MARYANNE: Yeah, most of the houses are [unintelligible - 00:45:30]. ROSE MARY: Now, it's much further developed. MARYANNE: But still, I would never allow my three-year old out of sight… ROSE MARY: Right. And I was completely out of sight from the house. I mean, you couldn't see where I was from our house was. Yeah, [unintelligible - 00:45:47] in those days, or in that neighborhood. INTERVIEWER: You must have cousins, right? ROSE MARY: Yeah. INTERVIEWER: That are living, that grew up in Leominster in that small neighborhood… ROSE MARY: There's no differences between myself and my cousins and my father, probably the only one in his family that went to college, 25 right, I think? No. There's a big difference in the way, you know, his brothers lived compared to him. But I think their kids, for the most part, have gotten, you know, my cousins have gotten education and jobs, and you know, we're all living about the same. I mean, some people have more, some people have less. There isn't a big difference between myself and my cousins, but there is a difference my parents and their siblings and cousins. INTERVIEWER: How about growing up? MARYANNE: Every kid growing up, we just were playing with our cousins ,and what my dad did and their dad did didn't really -- we used to be able to play hide and seek a lot more, run around in the yard. ROSE MARY: Right. There was no judgment at all. And I don't think we really noticed a difference when we were growing up. It's true that we did, we probably the biggest house, but I don't think we had more than my cousins. We probably had the same amount. We didn't have better clothes or better toys or anything. We had about the same. You know, the kids all had about the same. We didn't have more clothes and more toys because my parents had more, but we probably did live in a bigger house. But kids I don't think noticed that as much. I don't remember noticing any difference. I think that actually my parents are very successful, but when we were growing up, they were building their business and they were building up their [unintelligible - 00:47:30], you know, so I think that a lot of money they had was really tied up in the business. So it never felt like we had a lot of money. I mean, it felt like we had everything we needed. We were perfectly comfortable. We had some luxury items, you know, my family had some luxury items, but I never really felt like we were rich or anything like that. I mean, I don't [unintelligible - 00:47:50]. But I never really felt 26 that, I mean, but the house, yeah, you might say that, you know, we would know that. But I think that a lot of money was always tied up. And probably when we got into our 20s, it seemed like suddenly that they had more money, because I think at that time, the businesses really just boomed, and that's like 20 years ago. But by that time we were already grown, you know, and on our own. Half of us were on our own, at least. Other than we had the big house where we usually the holiday parties were here and everything. Yeah, there was a tennis court. I guess that would make us seem like we had a lot. But it was different in those days, too. I mean, it was just a hard top, but it wasn't -- it wasn't beautifully sealed and painted and striped and fenced in. It wasn't. It was just like a black top. Really, it had a tennis net going across it, but it wasn't as nice then as it is now. We would just ride our bikes on it. We would play chicken. MARYANNE: Chicken, four square. ROSE MARY: Yeah. You had -- we didn't use it for tennis that much. I mean, a little bit but… MARYANNE: When we got older we did. ROSE MARY: Yeah. And then we'd just ride our bikes out there. Yeah. INTERVIEWER: So [unintelligible - 00:49:13] a hard question? MARYANNE: It's really not something that I think about. You know what, I'm just who I am, and I have to think family is important to me. But my husband, who's French, and his family is very close too. So I don't see a difference… SPEAKER 5: Only your kids are too young. They wouldn't even know. ROSE MARY: My son, you know, probably considers himself Italian. He's half Italian, because I'm 100 percent Italian, but the other half is a lot of 27 different things. He says he's half Italian, you know. Plus that we've been to Italy and he has formed a bond with his cousins in Italy. Been there twice, so. He likes his Italian heritage. MARYANNE: I could see that, but first I have my own business and I have friends, so I scramble every day for time. So I would want to take care of both of those things first and as they grow, I can see myself doing some of that, but not to the extent that she does. Traveling -- she's what, 79? But to see them and be part of their lives. ROSE MARY: For me, I probably just see myself, I'd say, would have more time on my hands and do some volunteer work. Probably not to that same extent, 'cause my mother has a lot of energy. But I do see myself doing some things, yeah, definitely. When I have more time. I think that Leominster's very worthwhile. I don't have time to enjoy it, you know. I like the open land that we're trying to preserve through the Open Land of Leominster. I think that's really being developed, and we've really wiped out all our open space. So we're down to our last apple orchard, which at least we've saved. You probably know about Sowan Farms? I'm very glad that we saved that. It was one apple orchard, one apple farm. So I can see myself getting involved in things like that, plus the Historical Society of Leominster does a lot to teach people about Leominster's past, which I guess the city's changing a lot, it's really developing. Something like that. Right now, like I said, I'm totally consumed with work and being a single parent and not just having much time for anything, but as things get easier, my son gets older, I have more time, maybe I can be involved with the Center for Italian Culture. Actually, I love Italy. I've spent some time there and I've traveled back a couple of times. I do speak some Italian, but like I said, I've lost it over 28 the years, but I would love to get it back so that when I go to Italy and visit I can have a little… INTERVIEWER: To have a Center for Italian Culture? ROSE MARY: No, it's preserve history for the future generation. INTERVIEWER: Do you feel that way? MARYANNE: Yeah, I think so. I think it's good. I don't know a whole lot about what's being done, but I think it's good that people will have questions. The next generation, a terrible tragic thing that happened for the whole country. I think there's [unintelligible - 00:52:52] in the paper last night about dollars this anti-terrorism campaign is costing. I have a lot of customers in New York, and they were greatly affected. And everywhere, it touched everyone in the world, something like that happening. ROSE MARY: That thing, I feel, is very heartbreaking to imagine happening. It has changed, probably, my activities a little bit as far as going on vacation this year and getting on a plane. I don't feel it's a very good job of wiping out terrorism. We haven't done it yet completely. MARYANNE: It did make me think about family quite a bit more because I've passed on two opportunities to fly since then, and I weigh what to do, and one would be -- oh, and they were both for business -- but if it was just a decision about going on vacation somewhere, then I look at what my first job is, and it's to stay alive and raise my kids. The business, I'm going to do all that I can by phone and email and websites, and I'm going to avoid traveling until things are better. But then it can change at any time. They might change later, but I don't have a desire to getting in an airplane. ROSE MARY: Plus, actually, my oldest brother lives in New York City and when we first heard the news, of course we didn't know, and it was a while before we could get through on the phone because all of the 29 phone lines were jammed up to find out that he was actually traveling on business that day. MARYANNE: Actually, he traveled the day before, flew To California on the Monday. ROSE MARY: Right. He was nowhere around. He doesn't work in the building, but he does go by that train station, right? He gets off the train there every day. So I mean, the first initial reaction to hear that was, "Is he okay?" And the panic, you know, and then to find out that he's okay, but then to think about all the people that found out that their family members were gone, too. INTERVIEWER: How did you get the idea for the hair accessories? I realize the family owned the plastics business, so… MARYANNE: Well, I worked at Cardinal Comb & Brush, and they made combs, a couple of brushes, and they had some hair accessories. I did a lot of different things there, but I worked in sales and I created a hair accessory product that did quite well, and it sort of opened my eyes, because the hair accessory portion of Cardinal Comb was very small. And after that product did real well, I started thinking, "Oh, I should create other products," and this and that, but the products that I was creating were of a better quality, more upscale, and the combs that Cardinal were making were more -- good-quality but much lower in cost. It just was something -- I didn't think about having my own business, but it just kind of happened. My brother had said, "Oh, why don't you take a hair accessory business and do this and that," and it just worked out. So we talked about it, we figured out what to do and we made the deal. They continued to manufacture the plastic for me, and probably 1994 that the product got started, and at the time there was a product called Topsy-Tail, which was that you make a 30 ponytail and you put this little plastic needle with a loop. That just opened my eyes more. INTERVIEWER: So that wasn't your product… MARYANNE: That wasn't my product, no, but suddenly the whole marketplace was looking at hair accessories as something. So after the product I created did well in '94, we just started talking, and by '95 we had decided to split that portion of the business, and that's when the hair things got started in January of '96. It was called the French Twist kit, and what it did was it combined some really handmade side combs with hairpins in one package, and then on the back gave very detailed instructions and illustrations of how to put your hair into a French Twist. That's really the product that sold in many different markets, and from that I said, "Oh wow. You should keep doing more." INTERVIEWER: About the products, called, are they Good Hair Days? MARYANNE: The name Good Hair Days is on all the packaging, and there's another brand called Grip-Tuth, which are these handmade combs I'm talking about. So there's always Good Hair Days on the card, but in some products there's Grip-Tuth as well. Some of the products are sold without the name; they're just plastic parts that are sold in the bridal industry or the craft industry by the designers. They're taking the combs and putting them… INTERVIEWER: Right now, who owns the company? MARYANNE: Well, I'm the President of the company. I do the sales and marketing of our new products. Whatever it takes. Production -- my husband now is doing production, shipping, all the day-to-day paperwork you know. Payables, receivables. And we have someone who works part-time for us. I know, we have a running joke. It's like, "So, good morning! How was your weekend?" But we get along. We're probably -- few. We get along, we laugh with each other. 31 We actually value the time with our kids. I was lucky I was able to bring my daughter into the office and take care of her, and she didn't start daycare until she was 15 months. I would take care of her, work the phones. I had a playpen set up in the office. She'd fall asleep, take a nap, I'd run out and do shipping or whatever needed doing. So that's very fortunate; may people have to put their kids in daycare. I kind of set up home, also, to work, so I was able to put time in the office and time at home. Technology today is great because you get messages, you get paged; you can take care of business on your own hours and in between diaper changes. INTERVIEWER: You both live in Leominster? ROSE MARY: I live on the other side, right neat Lancaster. MARYANNE: I live probably, like, a mile, two miles, a mile and a half or so down this way. I think what I've gotten from him, if that answers the question, is they both have a very strong work ethic. What I remember about my dad is that he was always leaving, going to work on Saturday mornings. It was like a, "Where are you going?" kind of thing, and just doing what it takes. And Mom would do everything it took in the house so they wouldn't need to do anything, and they worked and take care of -- hardworking, and that would be one thing I want to carry on. ROSE MARY: Both had a lot of integrity. Honesty, integrity. MARYANNE: And work integrity. Honesty. That sort of thing. INTERVIEWER: Tell me about… MARYANNE: I couldn't even think of what you asked to begin with. INTERVIEWER: Well, thank you very much. ROSE MARY: Okay, you're more than welcome. INTERVIEWER: It's hard to do./AT/pa/cs/mfb/es

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

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